Community Organization, Theory and Principles

Community organization, theory and principles Page 1 of 291
Community organization,
theory and principles
Ross, Murray G
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To Jan, Susan, and Rob
7. Some Principles Relating to Organization (continued) 178
8. The Role of the Professional Worker 200
BibHography 229
Index 237
Introduction
Theory underlying community planning services for human welfare

and the principles involved in the understanding and use of the
community organization process have been relatively neglected in
professional literature. Practitioners in social work, as in other
related human service fields, have been too much preoccupied with
urgent action to devote themselves seriously to systematic
analysis. Here, happily, at long last, is a competent and
comprehensive contribution, solidly constructed and built upon
substantial philosophical and social scientific foundations. It
displays the further advantage of being comparative, thereby
avoiding the provincialism of a particular geography, the
parochialism of a particular history, and the professionalism of a
particular profession.
Twice now, in preparation for this Introduction, I have read the

manuscript of this penetrating, mature, and provocative volume.
Twdce also, during its reading, there has echoed and reechoed in
my mind a single line contained in T. S. Eliot's Two Choruses from
"The Rock": "Where is the Wisdom we have lost in knowledge?" If
wisdom means unity of knowledge, a discriminating selection and
integration of relevant scientific findings, and the organization of

such knowledge in relation to clearly delineated values that place

human dignity and destiny central in the life process, then without
question the author of this book has escaped the limitations of mere
erudition.
Those persons who were privileged to hear or to read the paper
given by Dr. Ross at the Seventh International Congress of Schools

of Social Work in Toronto, Canada, in July, 1954, have heard the
main theme of this book. The development of the theme and its
disciplined variations now constitute an impressive creation. The
result is at once challenging and rewarding.
Ambiguity and ambivalence have no place in these pages.

Language is employed to illuminate, not to obscure the writer's
thought. The precision of the author's analysis is matched by the
clarity and vitality of his enunciation and exposition of ideas. The
very ordering and organization of the book provide evidence of a
quality of tough thinking, thinking with a sharp cutting edge, severe,
sensitive, and sustained. There is a kind of rhythm here: big ideas
compressed into capsule proportions balanced by vivid example
and elaboration; the sweep of scholarly background and
concentration on the particular and the practical; the objective
curiosity of the social scientist harmonized with the professional
motivation of a social work educator; a capacity to relate and
reconcile enduring life values and the transient requirements of
given settings in time and space.
The total approach is essentially quite original. The author

conceives of community organization as a process basic to a wide
range of functional fields and social settings. Community
organization is seen to be as relevant in confronting human needs
in the areas of health, agriculture, industry, and education, for
example, as in the area of social welfare. Similarly, community

organization is regarded as basic to community planning for human

services in any and all regions, cultures, and sub-cultures of the
world. Whatever the level of physical and social technology, the
community organization process must be utilized appropriately if
community planning and community integration are to be effectively
developed.
Of outstanding quality is the rigorous examination of assumptions

found in conventional discussions of community organization. One
whole chapter is devoted to a critical evaluation of these
assumptions relating to goal values, problem orientation, and
technical method. One emerges from this vigorous encounter with a
healthy
respect for the subtlety and complexity of the central questions and
issues involved.
While drawing upon relevant experience, knowledge, and theory

from other professional disciplines, the author frankly
acknowledges that the tap roots of community organization are
deeply embedded in social work practice. Two significant
consequences flow from this recognition. One is a most rewarding
attempt to identify similarities and differences as between case
work, group work, and community organization. The other is an
equally illuminating delineation of similarities and differences as
between "community organization," "community development," and
"community relations." In both instances the author succeeds in
breaking through much of the arbitrary and artificial insulation that
makes communication and collaboration so difficult and so rare in
interdisciplinary relations. The end result is substantial movement in
the direction of a generic and universal definition of the community
organization process.
In the closing chapters of the book, when basic principles are set

forth and their application illustrated along with the several roles of
the professional worker—guide, enabler, expert, and therapist-one
begins to grasp the operational validity of all that has gone before
by way of basic interrogation and analysis. One senses afresh the
profound meaning of a frequent saying of the late Kurt Lewin,
"Nothing is more practical than a good theory."
A student in community organization said to me one day after class:

"It seems to me that what we are driving at in community
organization is to add to political and economic democracy what
might be called 'psychological democracy.'" Possibly this is what
Lester B. Pearson had in mind recently when he observed: "I am
not sure which is the more serious, the under-developed areas of
the world or the under-developed areas of the mind." In any case
here is an important book that contains dynamics and direction to
guide us in opening up new frontiers of human fulfilment.
Charles E. Hendry Toronto, Canada August, 1955
Preface
There has been a tendency in community work to group, under

some convenient heading, methods of work which are quite
different in nature, and a disposition to differentiate among methods
which resemble one another to a remarkable degree.
Thus there has been a tendency to assume or claim that all welfare
councils use a "community organization" process, even though
more careful study indicates that different councils use radically
different methods, and any one welfare council uses a wide variety
of methods depending upon a number of factors in the situation
with which it is dealing. On the other hand, somewhat artificial
distinctions have been made between essentially similar methods.
For example, the term "community development" has been used to
describe efforts to help communities in less-developed countries;

the term "community organization," to label attempts to plan welfare

services in North American communities; and some such term as
"community relations," to identify efforts of an organization, agency,
or industry, to participate in the Hfe of the community in which it is
located. But careful analysis suggests that a similar, if not identical,
approach is frequently found in these three rather different settings.
This tendency is not only confusing, but it may actually go some

way to prevent development of a consistent and meaningful theory
of community organization. It is surely not the setting (India or
America) or the content (agriculture or welfare) that determines
the nature of the community organization process; this process

exists as a distinctive pattern of work which can be utilized in a
wide variety of settings to deal wdth any one of a number of
problems.
I have therefore attempted in this book to set forth a conception of

the community organization process, to describe its nature, and to
outline principles which facilitate its development. I am not
suggesting that this is the only approach to deahng with problems
in a village, a welfare federation, or a national association of
agencies. Obviously, there are many diJfferent approaches. Nor do
I wish to imply that this particular conception of community work is
the most useful in all situations. There will be problems which, in
light of a number of variables, will require a different approach or
method of attack than that outlined here. But these approaches
should be studied as separate and distinct operations, so that the
particular uses, values, and results of each can be clearly identified
and appraised. I have merely attempted here to identify one
process, which I call the community organization process, in the
hope that its place in any community program may be adequately
evaluated.

Blummer makes an interesting distinction between "sensitizing

concepts"—ideas which, while not validated in a given field, yet
provide clues for its work—and "definitive concepts"—ideas which,
because they have been carefully tested, provide clear direction for
work in a particular situation. At this stage, most of what is
suggested in this book with respect to principles and methods of
work must be referred to as "sensitizing concepts." We have some
useful clues for community organization work, but our principles are
little more than that. Extensive and intensive research in this area
has yet to be undertaken, and we are forced to depend upon such
clues as are provided by research in other areas, experience, and
common sense. The methods suggested here must therefore be
considered highly tentative, to be tested and tried, and to be
modified as experience and research proceed.
For this reason, I have hesitated to formalize these ideas in a
book. But I have yielded to the persuasion of colleagues who argue

that since we are seeking to develop disciphned understanding in
this field, we desperately need at this time any contribution which
will encourage debate and discussion, if not ferment, in respect to
methods of work in the community. I can only hope that this book
may play a constructive role in this respect.
I am deeply indebted to many organizations and individuals for

encouragement and help in the preparation of this book. I wish to
thank the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization for a Fellowship which permitted study in England,
Israel, and the United States; the Harry M. Cassidy Research Fund
for sustained interest and support; and the University of Toronto for
providing the opportunity to pursue the study represented by this
book. I am appreciative of many helpful suggestions of my
colleagues in the School of Social Work, of the many questions and
comments of my students at this University, and of the studied

reaction of Mrs. Mildred Barry, Professors Gordon Hamilton,

Charles E. Hendry, and Nicolaas Pansegrouw who read some, or
all, of the chapters in draft form. I am particularly grateful to John R.
Seely whose detailed and penetrating analysis of my first draft of
this book made the task of rewriting an extremely diflBcult but a
challenging and rewarding one.
Mrs. Florence Strakhovsky, research secretary of the Harry M.

Cassidy Research Fund, supervised the typing and preparation of
my manuscript and I am appreciative of her superior and devoted
work.
Murray G, Ross Toronto, Canada August, 1955
Part One
The Nature of Community Organization
Some Conceptions of Community Work
INTRODUCTION
In recent years there has been a fresh concern with Hfe at the local
community level. This concern has arisen as a result of the
expression of social forces in the lives of groups of people
throughout the world. But because of the rather diflFerent stages of
development, or diverse ways of life, in many countries, these
social forces manifest themselves in various ways and create what
appear to be quite different sets of problems.
In those countries in which industrialization and urbanization are

relatively well advanced, the focus of concern is the loss of
community as a meaningful form of social and moral association. In

fact, as Nisbet points out, the current popularity of such words as

disorganization, disintegration, decline, insecurity, breakdown,
instability, and the like has relevance to trends in community life in
industrialized countries.^ The urban center is impersonal, lacking in
cohesion, an ineflFective political or social unit, which provides in-
1 R. A. Nisbet, The Quest for Community, Oxford University Press,

1953, p. 7.
adequate soil for full personality development. In metropolitan

centers, there is little sense of belonging, or feeling of identification,
or intimate association with others because these
... are not communities in any real sense of the word, but
unplanned monstrosities in which as men and women we are
segregated into narrowed routines and milieux. We do not meet
one another as persons in the several aspects of our total Hfe, but
know one another only fractionally; as the man who fixes the car, or
as that girl who serves our lunch, or as the woman who takes care
of our child at school. Pre-judgment-prejudice-flourishes when
people meet people only in this segmental manner. The humanist
reahty of others does not, cannot, come through.
In this metropolitan society, we develop, in our defence, a blase

manner that reaches deeper than a manner. We do not,
accordingly, experience genuine clash of viewpoint. And when we
do, we tend to consider it merely rude. We are sunk in our routines,
we do not transcend them, even in discussion, much less by action.
We do not gain a view of the structure of our society as a whole
and of our role within it. Our cities are composed of narrow slots,
and we, as the people in these slots, are more and more confined

to our own rather narrow ranges. As we reach for each other, we do

so only by stereotype. Each is trapped by his confining circle; each
is spht from easily identifiable groups . . ?
Some appraisal of the eflFect of urban life on the individual is seen

in Lawrence K. Frank's Society as the Patient, and in the writings of
Karen Homey, Erich Fromm, and Harry Stack SulHvan, all of whom
see the impersonality and remoteness of relationships in the city as
contributing factors to man's inability to find security in the western
world. Loneliness, anxiety, depression, neurosis are prevalent and
strike deeply at man's effort to attain dignity, stability, and
happiness.
For tiiese reasons, therefore, there has been, as indicated, fresh

concern with the community in industrialized societies. This
concern has manifested itself in a great variety of ways.
Withdrawal, restructuring or decentralization of the city, creation of
meaningful forms of primary association to replace old forms of
group life, and
2C. Wright Mills, "Are We Losing Our Sense of Belonging?" paper

delivered at Couchiching Conference, August 10, 1954, pp. 8-9.
other programs all have their advocates. In the field of community

organization, the main foci of attention have been attempts to
develop (1) meaningful functional communities as members of
which individual citizens may have some sense of belonging and
control over their environment, and (2) a new sense of
neighborhood in the large metropolitan area through creation of
citizens' councils and other forms of neighborhood organization.
In the less-developed countries, the problem has had a rather

different focus. In these countries one finds, on the whole, relatively

cohesive communities, closely knit kinship systems, and intimate

interpersonal relations. But powerful pohtical, economic, and
humanitarian forces are at work, stimulating these countries to
change, to "develop," to adopt modern techniques of work and
living. While these forces have been at work over the last century or
longer, they have been accelerated by substantial aid programs of
some of the major industrialized countries and by the United
Nations Technical Assistance program. Some of these assistance
programs have been developed with more good will than skill, but it
has been increasingly recognized that imposition of modern
techniques on ancient cultures may destroy old values, create
disruption, and lead to the problems which exist in all large urban
centers. Ralph Linton emphasized this when he said:
Modernization of the unmechanized cultures, with their unexampled

opportunities for individuals with intelligence and initiative, cannot
fail to weaken or even destroy joint family patterns. This in turn will
entail a whole series of problems for the societies in question. They
must develop new mechanisms to provide for the economic and
psychological needs now taken care of by family organization.^
There is, therefore, a growing concern as to how whole

communities in less-developed countries may be stimulated or
helped to adapt new techniques that will lead to greater economic
productivity and will provide them with better food, shelter, health,
education,
3 Ralph Linton, "Cultural and Personality Factors Affecting

Economic Growth," The Progress of Underdeveloped Areas (B. F.
Hoselitz, ed.), University of Chicago Press, 1952, p. 84.
etc. without disrupting or destroying the more valuable of their

traditional ways of life. If such movement is to take place, it is

recognized, the community as a whole must make the adaptation.
Throughout the world there is, then, new interest in the

development of "community." The community unit is, in some
instances, a geographical area; in other cases it is a community of
interests or association of interests. In either case, the problem of
concern is how the members of these communities may come to be
identified with, and share responsibility for, development of a
community life which is alert and active in solving some of the
problems which prevent it, and the larger society of which it is a
part, from utilizing the riches which the humanities and sciences
have made available to modern man.
There is a variety of ways in which experts and professional people

work in the community. In this chapter we wish to identify three
major divisions of community work, namely, community
development, community organization, and community relations.
While these areas represent different situations or "settings" for
work, it will be readily seen that there are fundamental similarities in
what is being attempted. Within each of the three areas various
approaches are described. Again, it will be seen that in spite of the
sharp differentiation we make in these approaches, they differ in
degree rather than in absolute terms. While each approach
described has distinctive characteristics, some elements of a
particular approach may be similar, if not identical, to some other
approach we describe.
COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT
In less-developed countries, or in 'Tjackward" parts of developed

countries, the phrase used most frequently to designate efforts to
provide for the advancement of communities is "community
development." Perhaps the definition that is most widely accepted
is set forth in a United Nations document as follows:

The term "community development" designates the utilization under

one single programme of approaches and techniques which rely
upon local communities as units of action and which attempt to
combine outside assistance with organized local self-determination
and eflFort, and which correspondingly seek to stimulate local
initiative and leadership as the primary instrument of change. ... In
agricultural countries in the economically under-developed areas,
major emphasis is placed upon those activities which aim at
promoting the improvement of the basic living conditions of the
community, including the satisfaction of some of its non-material
needs.*
Such a definition as this, concise and useful as it is, leaves some

issues unresolved. What is the primary goal of community
development? Is it, as may be implied, "promoting the improvement
of the basic living conditions"? Or is the primary goal cooperative
work of local leaders and outside experts? Or is it the development
of self-determination and eflFort in the local communities? Are all
these objectives of equal importance? What is to be done if "self-
determination" conflicts with "improving basic living conditions"?
When one views the work going on in the less-developed countries

or in backward parts of developed countries, it is obvious that
difiFerent persons answer these questions in quite different ways.
There is, in fact, a wide variety of objectives and of methods in use,
of which we will identify but three.
PROGRAMS IMPLANTED BY EXTERNAL AGENTS
The first approach represents the disposition of external agents to

implant a specific technique or program in a community. The
program or technique may relate to a new method of farming, an
industry of some kind, a new school, a medical program, or a

housing project, which the external agent (or the organization he

represents) thinks will benefit this community. The external agent
may appear at the request of the national government in which the
community is located, but seldom at the request of the people most
4 United Nations Document E/CN 5/291, Programme of ConceHed

Action in the Social Field of the United Nations and Specialized
Agencies.
directly affected, namely, the people of the community. But,

regardless of the source of the external agent's directive, he enters
a community as an expert in some area (e.g., agriculture,
education, medicine, etc.) and his task is to implant a project or
develop a program associated with his special area of competence,
in the community to which he is assigned.
The methods by which he implants and secures acceptance for his

project or program vary with the agent and the situation. Among the
prevailing methods evidenced in some of the experiences in less-
developed countries are: (1) the agent diagnoses the community's
need for his services, prescribes a program, and seeks to establish
this program, which he leaves for the community to use as it sees
fit; (2) the agent seeks not only to prescribe but to persuade, and by
a variety of "sales methods" he convinces the people of the
community to use the facihty or service provided; (3) the agent
discusses with the people the need for such a project or program
as he has in mind, he passes out literature, shows movies,
organizes committees, and seeks to win the cooperation of the
people of the community in establishing the new project or
program. In general, it may be said that the trend is away from
crude methods of imposition of a project, which neglect the
attitudes of residents to the innovation, and toward winning the

support of the community for the project. However, the element of

time and the nature of the need are influential here: a medical team
sent to a community in which a contagious disease rages does not
pause to discuss treatment with the local residents. But, regardless
of the methods used, the basic objective of this approach is to
introduce and implant a particular project or plan, the general
nature of which is determined by the external agent. The criterion
for the success of the work of the latter is the degree to which he
can establish this project in the life of the community. He is
concerned about the feelings of the people in the community in
respect to the innovation only to the degree that they support, and
do not oppose, introduction and use of the technique or service.
One of the more sophisticated (yet in the long run unsuccessful)
SOME CONCEPTIONS OF COMMUNITY WORK U
projects in this area is illustrated in the following account of an

agriculture agent's attempt to introduce hybrid seed corn in a small
farm community:
The county agent's relations with the farmers were good. He spoke
Spanish in the same manner, was familiar with their background
and agricultural practices, and had served as agent for several
years im-mediatelv preceding this venture. The seed corn, he felt,
had degenerated and he suspected that this was an important
factor in keeping production low. He decided to introduce a hybrid
seed that was known for high yield, and proceeded carefuUv,
consulting with the college agronomist, who selected a variety . . .
that had been tested in the immediate area. It was considered
disease-resistant and capable of producing a good growth. . . .
Then the agent discussed the problem of low corn yields with the

leaders of the village, having chosen this particular community as a

hkely place for a good response. The men readily recognized the
need for better production and were wilhng to tliink that, perhaps,
their seed strain was weakening after long continuous propagation.
The soils of the fields used by this village were tested and found to
be of good fertihty. . . . After discussion with the leaders of the
various problems involved, a meeting was called in order to present
the county agent's plan.
Everyone in the village was invited to the meeting. The agent

showed movies of the hybrid corn, and cartoons to enliven the
demonstration. Then the leaders took over the meeting and
explained in their own words the plan for introducing hybrid corn. All
those present seemed to agree that the new seed was the answer
to many of their problems and that they would be well able to afford
the price of the seed, once it was available locally.
By special arrangement with a grower of seed, the new hybrid was

furnished in exchange for the old seed. A demonstration plot which
clearly showed a tripled crop was set up near the village, with the
result that 40 farmers planted hybrid and each doubled his
production the first year.^
5 Edward H. Spicer (ed.), Human Problems in Technological

Change, Russell Sage Foundation, New York, 1952, pp. 36-37.
10
10 community organization: theory and principles "multiple"

approach
The second approach to be discussed here is distinguished by its

concern with the effect of the introduction of a new technique on
many aspects of community life. Thus HoseHtz says:

Industrialization . . . and the accompanying process of urbanization,

may mean an increase in physical and mental ill-health, an
increase in crime and other forms of conflict, the development of
ethnic discrimination, and often the growth of those aspects of
personal and group disorganization resulting from an increase in
anomie. It calls for the estab-hshment of new social services, new
public utilities, and the vast enlargement of an administrative
apparatus. Not all these social costs can be foreseen or estimated
correctly, but the very recognition of these problems and their
inclusion in some form in developmental plans means that such
planning ceases to have a purely economic dimension.^
There is recognition here, then, of the indivisibility of community life

and the need to provide for "the social consequences of technical
change" in the whole community. This leads to what is often called
the "multiple" approach in which a team of experts seeks to provide
a variety of services, such as education, recreation, medical, to
deal with some of the problems which emerge, or may emerge, as
alterations are made in the economic system of the community.
Thus, in introducing a new industry in a community, the economists
or industrialists may be accompanied by a group of experts in other
areas, who seek to help people use constructively their increased
earnings, to learn to read and write, to take advantage of modem
medical knowledge and skill, to build better houses, etc. In other
words, an effort is made to move the whole community in a
direction which will permit the use of modern tools, techniques, and
methods of living. "To move a century in a decade" is a slogan
frequently heard among such planners. The pressure "to adapt or
die" is, of course, prevalent, and without evidence to the contrary,
^ B. F. Hoselitz (ed.), The Progress of Underdeveloped Areas,

University of Chicago Press, 1952, p. vli.
11

one cannot readily suggest that such radical readjustment is not

necessary at many points in the world today.
It is of interest to note, however, that while the "multiple" approach

considers the impact of certain changes on the culture as a whole,
it deals with the whole through quite distinctive parts (such as
education, industry, health) as if the sum of these parts represented
the whole. There are, of course, many aspects of life in the
community which relate to customs, beliefs, ceremonies, and
rituals, which may be affected in a fundamental way by technical
changes. The units of services provided in the multiple approach
seldom provide a program to facilitate adaptation or adjustment in
these areas.
But a second interesting idea is apparent in this approach.

Frequently it is said that it seeks to take account of the "social
consequences of technical change." It is not concerned merely with
technical change, but seeks to provide for the impact of these
changes—usually by education, health, and welfare programs. A
profound difference exists, as will be shown later, between those
who are concerned with the "social consequences of technical
change" and those who are concerned with "technical change as a
consequence of social action." The former assumes that a technical
change can be imposed or induced, and that plans can be made to
care for the community's reaction to this change. The latter
assumes that the community must make its own adaptation, and
that this can be done only if the community itself initiates, works
through, and makes its own changes. These are obviously quite
different points of view in respect to the ways a community may
adjust and develop.
Often in developing a "multiple" approach program, social scientists

are used "to identify the particular traits of the particular groups of
people who would be affected by these proposed changes; to

advise about the resistances to, or support for, these changes likely
to be found in the local culture and society; and to recommend
modifications in the proposed program of development
12
or in the proposed methods of introducing changes." ^ It is

interesting that social scientists, most of whom have been reluctant
to become part of "value-laden undertakings," become involved in
these community development projects and lend their knowledge
and insight to these programs, without serious questioning of the
ends for which they are being used. But many seem ready to be so
used, and to advise on how the program may be adapted to the
culture, or, vice versa, how the culture must be changed if the
program is to be implemented. An anthropologist will see, for
example, that introduction of a public health clinic may sever old
relationships with midwife and medicine man and priest, will predict
resistances, and may recommend ways in which these latter may
be cared for. The usefulness of social scientists has been amply
demonstrated in this way, for they see the underlying and
fundamental web of a culture not apparent to the untrained
observer.
For example, the illustration provided of the county agent's work in

the preceding section might suggest marked success in introducing
hybrid corn. Actually the project was a dismal failure, for three
years after the hybrid com was first planted, all but three farmers
had given up raising it and had gone back to raising the old corn.
The reason was relatively simple, although not one the agriculture
expert might have anticipated.
As one farmer said, "My wife doesn't like that hybrid, that's all." He
and others explained that the new corn had not been popular from
the first harvest. All the wives had complained. Some did not like its

texture; it did not hang together well for tortillas; the tortillas were
not the color of nixtamal (the corn flour dough to which they were
accustomed).^
In commenting on this experience the social scientist is able to

point out the limits of the average technical expert and the special
role of the social scientist:
It cannot be said that he (the agent) ignored any of the well-tried,

and
7 Samuel B. Hayes, Jr., "Personality and Culture Problems of Point

IV," The Progress of Underdeveloped Areas, University of Chicago
Press, 1952, p. 209.
8 Spicer, op. ait., pp. 38-39.
13
often reiterated, rules of extension procedure. Nevertheless the

agent's exploration of the context of the change sought did not go
quite far enough. He had paid attention to the relations between the
agriculture technology and the environmental conditions, and to
those betwêen farming practices and the social organization of the
community. He failed, however, to inquire into the food habits and
their influence on the selection of crops. . . . He learned that the
interests and wishes of the village women had to be taken into
account as an important factor in the agricultural economy. Finally,
he found that in the system of values of the community, com quality
was more important than corn quantity.^
While it may be questioned whether the agent took adequate

account of the social organization of the community when he
neglected the involvement of women in his plans, certainly this
illustration demonstrates that which the social scientist is skilled in

identifying and analyzing, namely, the systems of values of a

community and the behavior patterns which stem from these
values. His knowledge at such points makes the introduction of
changed techniques more palatable and realistic.
But it must be noted that in this approach, as in the first mentioned,

the primary source of direction for change comes from a small
group of experts, planners, or leaders. The people of the
community may be involved, may have a share in shaping the
nature of the change, and may participate in the actual operations
of change, but the initial impetus for change, the general area
marked out for change, and to a considerable degree the character
of the change, are external to the majority of the people in the
community. The area of concern is wider, the introduction of
change more "scientific," but the direction and nature of the change
is externally, rather than internally, imposed.
"inner resources" approach
In contrast, out of the third position stems what is sometimes

designated as "the inner resources" approach. Here stress is laid
on
9 Ibid., p. 39.
14
the need to encourage communities of people to identify their own

wants and needs and to work cooperatively at satisfying them.
Projects are not predetermined but develop as discussion in
communities is encouraged, proceeds, and focuses the real
concerns of the people. As wants and needs are defined and
solutions sought, aid may be provided by national governments or
international organizations. But the emphasis is on communities of
people working at their own problems. In such an approach,

technical change follows social movement and not vice versa.

Change comes as a community sees the need for change and as it
develops the will and capacity to make changes it feels desirable.
Direction is established internally, rather than externally.
Development of a specific project (such as an industry or school) is
less important than development of the capacity of a people to
establish that project.
Such an approach has, in the minds of many technicians, a number

of disadvantages: action is slow; the action taken is not subject to
control by the technician; the program that develops may not be the
action which the government or the expert feels is really required;
and even the action taken may move in unsophisticated fashion,
oblivious to many more effective ways of carrying on the program.
On the other hand, those who advocate such an approach
emphasize the importance of the people learning to work together
at the problems they conceive to be important, and the probabihty
that such projects as the community does undertake in this fashion
will have a meaning and a permanence which imposed projects, no
matter how subtly introduced, will not have.
The classic example of this approach, which in its simphcity is both

revealing and instructive, is that of one of the first community
developmental projects in Egypt:
Mohamad S was different from any other government ojBBcial the
fellaheen had ever known. He didn't collect taxes. He was not

interested in catching criminals. He just walked around the village,
talking to people and helping them with whatever task they
happened to be doing.
At first, the fellaheen were suspicious, but as time went on, they
began

15
to take him for granted and no longer fell silent when he joined a
group of them.
One day, he came upon three fellaheen angrily discussing their

school fines. It was bad enough that the children must go to school
in another village three miles away, but it was worse that the
fathers must pay when the children failed to arrive. The fines were
large. It would take three days' work to pay them oflF.
"Why don't you build a school here?" asked Mohamed. "Then you
could see that the children arrived."
The fellaheen shook their heads. They had thought of that, but
every inch of ground was under cultivation and could not be spared.
"Build it over there," said Mohamed, pointing to a strip of useless

swampland.
Everyone laughed, but Mohamed persisted. The land could be filled

with rubbish and dirt from the streets. Level off the hills and the
bumps in the roads and there would be plenty of earth to add to it.
The government might loan them a truck.
The men shook their heads, but they began talking about it and
soon everyone in the village was talking. Some old men, no longer
able to go to the fields, began collecting the rubbish into heaps.
Soon almost everyone was picking up rubbish as he walked along
and the rubbish heaps grew bigger and bigger, the streets cleaner
and cleaner. The truck came. The swamp disappeared.
By the time the school was built, the village was almost convinced
that the government really had sent Mohamed there for no other
reason than to help them. They talked to him about many other

problems.
"Is the rich water of the Nile unhealthy as some have tried to
claim?"
When Mohamed showed them what the water looked like under a
microscope, the fellaheen began to talk about a well. But, again,
there was the problem of finding land on which to place the central
tank, and again, it was the old swampland that held the answer.
Deep underground water, entirely suitable for drinking, was found
beneath the fiUed-in land.io
Here it can be seen that the worker was not seeking a specific
reform such as change in agriculture methods or housing
arrangements. Rather he was seeking a means of initiating a
process. This latter could be achieved only by finding an issue
about which there
1° U.S. Federal Security Agency, An Approach to Community

Development (International Unit, Social Security Administration),
Washington, D.C., 1952.
16
was a good deal of feeling. The problem happened to be the matter

of schools—and later of water supply. But the issue which provided
the opportunity to initiate the process might have been the price of
figs, the spread of a contagious disease, or the lack of radios. The
worker was less concerned about the precise nature of the problem
than he was of using it as an opportunity to get the villagers
working together to solve the problem. The conviction of the
worker, which was later validated in this case, was that if he could
get the villagers actively engaged in dealing with one problem
about which they were concerned, they could continue to work
cooperatively as they identified other community problems.

COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION
In North America the phrase most commonly used to designate

community planning and action is "community organization." The
major effort in this respect has been in the welfare field, and usually
community organization is considered to be a social work
responsibility. While there are many definitions of community
organization, one which has considerable acceptance is the
following:
/K Community organization . , . has been defined as the process of

bringing about and maintaining a progressively more effective
adjustment between social welfare resources and social welfare
needs within a geographic area or functional field. Its goals are
consistent with all social work goals in that its primary focus is upon
needs of people and provision of means of meeting these needs in
a manner consistent with the precepts Nôf democratic living.^^
The tendency to restrict community organization to welfare needs is

objected to by many who see the potential needs of a community
as being far broader than the current concept of welfare. One finds
on this continent an increase in both the quantity and quality of
efforts, outside the welfare field, by persons in adult education,
11 C. F. McNeil, "Community Organization for Social Welfare,"

Social Work Year Book, Margaret B. Hodges (ed.), American
Association of Social Workers, Inc., 1951, p. 123.
17
agriculture, and religion, to initiate and carry on community

organization projects.
Here, as in community development, however, one finds the same

differences in practice which suggest fundamental differences both

in objectives and method. There are, again, many fine shades of

diflFerence and we indicate below what seem to us to be the major
ones.
"specific content" objective
The first of these approaches we term the "specific content"

approach. Here an individual, an agency, or an organization
becomes concerned about some needed reform in the community
and launches a program to secure this reform. A comparable
situation is a Community Chest or agency financial campaign
whose concern is to secure its goal of X dollars. The primary, if not
exclusive, focus of the group is a specific reform or objective.
Usually time is an important element, for the group seeks to secure
this goal as quickly and simply as possible. The methods used to
secure the objective will depend to a considerable degree,
however, upon the situation. In some instances, a straight line to
the goal is possible: the need or objective is placed before the
proper authorities or the public, and a satisfactory response follows.
In otlier situations, consultation and conferences are necessary,
and selected individuals and groups are involved in exploration of
the problem before action is taken. In still other circumstances,
publicity in respect to the problem or need is undertaken; pressure
is put on parties resisting the reform or goal; and open or "behind
the scenes" lobbying and manipulation of ideas and people are
attempted. One or some combination of these methods may be
used. But whatever the method or group of methods, it is directed
at tlie single goal of securing the reform or objective which the
original individual, agency, or organization had in mind. Because
this approach has a single and specific objective, the methods used
are conditioned only by the conscience and morality of the
promoting group.
18

The success of this process tends to be measured, primarily, in

terms of the degree to which the reform, goal, or objective is
secured. This is the principal criterion for the initiators of the
process. If the objective was reached, the process was a useful and
profitable one; if not, the experience was hardly successful. There
are, of course, likely to be concomitant results of any process such
as this. The group initiating the project may develop cohesion or
may disintegrate, the community may develop great pride in the
result of the project or be chagrined by failure, community
identification may increase or decrease, attitudes of mutual trust or
of suspicion and hostility may ensue. But since the objective is
focused exclusively on securing a specific reform or goal, these
concomitant results are incidental, and whether they are good or
bad, positive or negative, is often a matter of chance. Consideration
of these by-products of the process is placed far behind the content
objective and is usually, in this approach, given little (if any)
conscious attention.
A brief example of this approach is evident in the following report of

a worker in a small Canadian city:
We (four social workers) decided that P was in need of a mental
health clinic. But it was not an easy idea to seU, for laymen in this
city knew little of what such a clinic does or how it would help us in
our work. We did a careful study of the influential people in town
and selected sixteen without whose support it would be difficult to
move. We each canvassed four of these people personally and
received a warm, if not enthusiastic, reception. They agreed to
come to one meeting. Twelve
came to the meeting to which we had invited Dr. S. T. of T Mental
Health Clinic. He did a wonderful job and the community leaders

were clearly impressed. They agreed to call a larger meeting

inviting leaders from all the service clubs, the mayor, the librarian,
and several church leaders. This meeting also went well and Dr. S.
T. again did a fine job of interpretation. At this meeting an ad hoc
committee was set up, and we were well on our way.
Preliminary to a mass meeting, each of us (the four originals) spoke

at a service club meeting, announcements were made in several
pulpits, notices were posted throughout the city and interest spread
rapidly. Prior to the meeting the committee worked out a plan,
talked with city
19
officials, and were ready with a concrete proposal when the pubhc
meeting was held. Over five hundred people came. The need was
interpreted, the way the clinic would operate described, and the
plan for getting the project started outlined. There were many
questions from the floor but the plan was approved, a permanent
committee set up, and canvass for money begun. Twelve months
after we four began, the money for the clinic was in the bank and
the committee were looking for a staflF.
Here it can be seen that the primary goal of securing a mental

health clinic was reached. The other results in terms of community
involvement, effort, and sense of achievement are also probably
positive. But that these latter are so is purely by chance, for the
effort of the group of four was exclusively on securing the mental
health clinic as quickly and effectively as possible.
There are some who are critical of such an approach as has been
described here. But surely this is fundamental method in a
democracy—in which the minority seeks to win the support of the
majority for its program, or, to put it another way, in which the
minority seeks to become the majority. It may not be, for some,
consistent with the best social work or educational practices, yet it

must be considered valid procedure in a social system in which

ideas compete for existence and support.
"general content" objective
The second general approach we call the "general content"

objective. Here, there is a group, association, or council, such as an
Adult Education Council or a Welfare Council, whose objective is
the coordinated and orderly development of services in a particular
area of interest. Thus the welfare council may seek to coordinate
existing services (i.e., relate present services and prevent
overlapping), to extend present services, and to initiate new
services to meet welfare needs in the community. The objective is
not a single reform but a more general objective of effective
planning and operation of a special group of services in the
community.
The methods used in this approach are related to the objective.
20
Coordination of the services of autonomous agencies or

associations cannot be forced. Therefore these groups (by
representation) must be involved, to some degree, in the planning
and decision-making process in respect to coordination. Further,
since extension of services and initiation of new services are
matters of prime interest to groups operating in this field,
involvement of these groups is again a necessity. And since action
in the community may require the support of influential citizens, it is
often considered desirable to secure the participation of "power
figures" in the planning process. Thus the objective here requires
(at least in practice) involvement of a considerable group of
interested and influential people in planning ways and means of
coordinating and expanding services in a particular area.^^

This process therefore requires a relatively large group—usually an

elite—participating in consultations and conferences to secure
agreement on plans and to exert consistent pressure to secure
action on these plans. The ways that action in the community is
secured are similar to the methods suggested in the "specific
content" objective described above. In the "general content"
objective, of course, formulation of the plan for action is the work of
a considerable group. Time cannot be permitted to be dominant in
this approach, since consultation and planning in a group
representative of numerous interests can hardly be rapid.
Nonetheless, there tends to be an expectation for action and the
need to "get things done" is hkely to be consistently felt.
The result of this approach is steady pressure for reform and

development in a particular area of community life, such as the
welfare field. This is the primary goal. A secondary goal is
development of an interested and informed group of citizens with
conviction of the need for community movement in the welfare field.
There may be concomitant results here as well, but the primary and
12 One welfare leader in the field told the writer, "Of course you
have to realize that planning is a sophisticated process and is one
in which we can engage only the better people in the community."
While there is a large group involved, in most cases it is an eUte
who are engaged in such planning.
21
secondary objectives are as stated. But in the particular approach

described here, movement in respect to content (actual services) is
primary and the development of a cohesive group of interested
planners is secondary and, indeed, included only because the
primary goal could not readily be secured without such
participation.

One professional worker, in an interview with the author, described

this approach thus:
We recognize that if we are going to get the new services we need,

and the money required for these services, we have to have a
strong council. And if you are at all sensitive to the structure of our
society, you will recognize that businessmen are the group that can
provide that strength. We try, therefore, to enlist the outstanding
business executives in our council. Many of them have proven to
be excellent committeemen who understand, support, and secure
our objectives in this community. Take the matter of increasing
allowances for the aged. It is not something that one would expect
conservative businessmen to support, yet it passed with unanimous
support in our council.
It will be seen that this approach is concerned both with planning in

respect to a general interest or field (such as welfare) and with
development of power to implement the plans made. Thus this
approach diflFers from the first mentioned under the heading of
community organization by the more general nature of the field in
which it desires change and reform; by its consistent involvement of
agency, group, and "elite" representatives; and by its conscious
effort to develop a continuing power group or association that can
exert constant pressure on individuals, agencies, and the public to
accept its recommendations.
PROCESS OBJECTIVE
The third approach here we term "process" objective. Here the

objective is not content, i.e., facilities or services of some kind, but
initiation and nourishment of a process in which all the people of a
community are involved, through their representatives, in identify-
22

ing and taking action in respect to their own problems. The

emphasis is on cooperative and collaborative work among the
various groups in the community (be it functional or geographic) to
the end that they may develop capacity to work together in dealing
with problems which arise in their community. What is sought is
increased motivation, responsibility, and skill in recognizing and
securing reforms the community considers desirable. The objective
is less that of some specific reform than it is development of
community integration and capacity to function as a unit in respect
to common problems.
Thus the methods utilized in this approach place great stress on

involvement of the major subgroups of the conmiunity through the
accepted leaders of these groups, careful exploration of the
common problems which the community faces, and development of
a program in which all share. Time cannot be allowed to become a
factor of first importance, for development of working relations
among diverse groups is not, it is felt, a matter that can be hurried,
but is one that must proceed at a pace which the group leaders find
acceptable and comfortable.
The result sought in this process is primarily greater capacity on the

part of the community to function cooperatively in respect to
common problems. A secondary aim is action on certain common
problems and gradual elimination of these problems. But this latter
is clearly a secondary goal, the primary goal resting on the
assumption that if this collaborative and cooperative process is
active, the community itself will gradually find the strength and
resources to deal v^th needed reforms in the community.
Such a process as described here could be illustrated only by

lengthy documentation, but the following, from a private document,
may suggest some aspects of the process:

The neighborhood council began because the people in this
neighborhood were up-in-arms about the lack of police protection in

this area. There had been several acts of violence, the saloons
were breaking the law right and left, kids were getting liquor and
dope, and the situation was pretty bad. Some folks got together and
called a public meeting,
23
at which block captains were appointed. A petition from each block

was prepared, a delegation was sent to city hall, and the group put
forward its views in no uncertain terms. They did faiily well, several
saloons were closed and they got regular police patrols.
The neighborhood was so enthusiastic about their success that

they wanted to continue. At this point they asked for our help and
we assigned a professional worker to serve as their consultant.
They carried on with a club in every block in the neighborhood,
each club sending two representatives to the council. Over the
years they've worked on rat elimination, clean-up campaigns, T.B.
detection campaigns, housing and redevelopment, expansion of
play areas and recreational programs, and many other matters.
They worked on things that were important to everyone in the
neighborhood. They've learned to work together and they've gained
recognition everywhere in the city. In spite of a lot of moving in and
out of the neighborhood, it has developed a real spirit of unity and
the feeUng that there aren't many problems that it can't handle
itself.
Advocates of this "process" objective do not feel that this approach

need be confined to small towns or villages or to urban
neighborhoods, but that it is equally applicable in functional
communities. They suggest, with some conviction, that if adult
education or welfare councils would be less concerned initially with

action in the geographic community and more concerned with

involving all parts of the adult education or welfare community in
the identification of their common aspirations and problems and in
developing a program to meet them, these functional communities
would gradually develop cohesion, strength, and a program which
would be far more vital than that found in most such (functional)
communities today.
COMMUNITY RELATIONS
"Community relations" implies the methods or ways by whic h an.

agency, association, or council relates itself to the geographic com-
munityTSuch approaches are" relevant here, because they are
often referred to as the "community organization component" in the
operation of a club, welfare agency, or educational institution. They
24
are important, too, because many functional communities (such as

the welfare council, the recreation council, the adult education
cotmcil) must relate their activities to those in the wider geographic
community, and are in such circumstances involved in a program of
community relations, a procedure which they often fail to distinguish
(as we will later show) from the procedure within the functional
community. Again there are a variety of approaches in the field of
community relations. We will identify three such approaches.
PUBLIC RELATIONS
The first approach, pu blic relations, is simplv the attempt o f an

organization or agency to enhance its prestio;e, pos ition, or
product in th e commun ity at large. As the public relations field has
grown m sophistication, Ihis no" longer means simply advertising
and news reports, nor even highly polished receptionists and
telephone-answering service, but careful study (again often using

social scientists) of employees, consumers, and the community at

large, so that there is awareness within the organization of the
strengths and weaknesses of its own position in the community. For
example, a businessman told the writer recently: "One of the
surveys we did showed some resentment that our top executives
were from the head oflBce (in another country). We hadn't worried,
or even thought about this before, but now we have six young
(native-bom) men at the head office for training. In three years we
think all our executives here will be home-bred."
COMMUNITY SERVICES
A second method of improving the position of an organization in the

community and/or helping the community to develop is the
provision of services to (or for) groups in the community, or to the
community as a whole. This trend has become quite general as
business subsidizes and sponsors playgrounds, research, scholar-
25
ships, conferences on national affairs, and welfare agencies extend

the scope of their services to provide special projects, such as free
learn-to-swim classes, cooperate with labor unions in providing
counseHng services, loan professional workers to special projects,
open free clinics, prepare special educational publications. Some of
these activities are oflFered purely as "public relations" in the sense
that they are provided as a means of enhancing the status of the
agency or institution in the community. But many, obviously, are
motivated by a desire to render what is considered to be a much
needed service in the community. The nature and extent of such
service, of course, is invariably determined by the organization or
agency, and is not often a project which the people of the
community themselves decide is required.
COMMUNITY PARTICIPATION

Another approach is that of participation on the part of the group,

agency, or council in the life of the community. Thus industries and
agencies of all kinds may send representatives to the city planning
commission or to a special meeting to study delinquency, or to a
meeting to discuss the need for a new hospital. Or functional
communities like the welfare council or the adult education council
may send representatives to sit on a civic committee studying
transportation, or city planning, or housing. Such participation may
stem from a variety of motives, such as (1) keeping the agency or
association or council related to other important groups in the
community, (2) maintaining contact with new developments, (3)
keeping some control over plans for future developments in the
community, (4) coordinating services with those of other agencies,
(5) supporting cooperative planning and development of new
services in the community. For whatever reason, or combination of
reasons, there appears increasingly to be a consciousness on the
part of formal organizations of the importance of community
participation, and a disposition among these organizations to play
an active and responsible role in the life of the community. Almost
26
any community project likely to be considered "respectable" can, in

North American society, count on support (of varying degrees) from
the multipHcity of formal organizations (i.e., the leading industries,
the welfare agencies, the educational associations, the churches,
etc.) in the community. So pronounced has this trend become that
one finds frequently at community meetings, which may be held
under a variety of auspices, representatives from precisely the
same organizations, and often exactly the same people.
FACTORS IN COMMUNITY WORK
It is obvious from the above descriptions that these approaches to

the community vary greatly in a number of respects. Among these

variables one may readily distinguish the factors of tim e, objective ,
and method. These three items, in fact, constitute appropriate
concepts m re'spect to each of which a scale may be drawn, on
which may be plotted the approaches described, and many others
as weU.
The time scale extends from one polar position, at which

emergency action is necessary and time is, in consequence, of the
essence. The task must be completed in the shortest time possible.
This would be the case in a flood or disaster situation
in a community in which rapid action to alleviate suEFering is

required. At the other end of the scale there is adequate time to do
the job that has to be done. As with Abraham Lincoln's dictum that
a man's legs should be long enough to reach the ground, so here
there is enough time (no more, no less) to complete the required
task. The process may not be extended unnaturally or artificially,
but moves at a pace which is indigenously comfortable and is not
subject to time pressures. This is the situa
27
tion at, for example, the Quaker Meeting where the group is
prepared to delay action indefinitely if consensus is not forthcoming
on the issue under discussion. Full agreement, not time or action, is
the important consideration. Between these extremes are many
positions at which time is of more or less importance, in which time
limits of various proportions exist in the operation. Often, of course,
restrictions of time are self-imposed (and frequently are imposed
subconsciously) but this makes them no less real and no less
subject to plotting (probably) on the left side of the time scale.
A second factor about which there are a variety of views is that of

the objective of the approach or operation in the community. Thus

we have an objective scale at one end of which is a quite specific

plan or reform. The goal may be a home for retarded children, a
correctional institution for girls, a new sewage system, a junior
college, a housing project, election of the liberal candidate for
mayor. This is a "contenf[^ oaL is quite specific in natu reând is
notsubje ct^ to modifi cation. The content—a s^cific project or
program—is the goal, and consideration of method is limited to
ways by whicH this Specific goal can be achieved. At the other end
of the
specific social therapy
reform or plan (process ^
(content)
OBJECTIVE SCALE
scale is social therapy, the objective of which is initiation of that

process through which the community strives for greater self-
understanding and achieves greater cohesion and capacity to act in
respect to its problems.^^ The goal here is not related directly to
achievement of any specific content objective, such as a junior
13 For a full description of this process see pp. 221-228; also,

Elliott Jaques, M.D., The Changing Culture of a Factory, Tavistock
Publications, Ltd., London, 1951.
28
college or a correctional institution; it is focused, as in individual

therapy, on a process by which self-understanding and integration
can be achieved. Again, there are many points on the scale
between these polar positions. There is the point at which the
specific reform is less rigidly conceived than at the left end of the

scale, at which a content goal is modified by concern with process,

at which a process goal is modified with some concern for content,
etc. But that many of the approaches described in the earlier part of
this chapter fall at various points on this scale is quite evident.
A third factor is that of method. On the method scale one extreme

position is that of imposition. Here an individual or group by
propaganda, sales methods, political pressure, etc. persuades,
coerces, or cajoles a community to adopt a given idea, plan,
service or technique.^* Thus a technical expert persuades a
community in
imposition self-determination
METHOD SCALE
a less-developed country to use a new seed about which the

residents are suspicious, or a welfare council worker lobbies to
have his idea adopted at an approaching meeting. At the other end
of the scale, the method is one by which the people of a given
community are encouraged to decide for themselves what they
consider to be important and what action is appropriate. Here a
worker encourages the villagers in a less-developed country to
identify and act on their own conception of their needs, or a welfare
council worker seeks to involve all members of the welfare
community in a process of seeking out the common areas of
concern on which they wish to act together. Obviously, again, there
are many positions between these two extreme points. An
individual or group may be quite flexible about the nature of the
reform he (or it) wishes to initiate, and will modify it in consultation
with members of the community; the
1* A plan may be imposed by force, of course, but this is an

extreme that we do not include in our analysis.

29
plan or reform may be quite general in nature, and its precise

character may be determined by the community; or the general
proposal developed by a small group for action may be quite
tentative in nature and may be submitted with some expectation
that it will be rejected by the community, which in turn may propose
an entirely different project which is approved by all.
When these three scales are considered, it is apparent that current

practices in the community vary greatly in philosophy, objective,
method, and the results they obtain. No logical design is achieved
by grouping all these approaches under one title or phrase, such as
community organization. To do so merely confuses the distinctive
nature of many approaches to work in the community. Each of
these approaches, as already implied, has its justification in
particular situations and may be introduced with merit in
circumstances appropriate to its use. But if community organization
is to be a meaningful discipHne, it must be clearly defined and
differentiated from other approaches in community work.
TRENDS
Before attempting such a definition, however, it may be useful to

identify some trends which seem to support the particular process
we will define as community organization.
SELF-DETERMINATION
The policy of imposed projects, even in emergency situations, is

coming into sharp question. While it is true that it may appear to
outsiders that emergency action is required and that administration
of that action by external agents is completely justified, it is
increasingly recognized that people in a local community may not
always recognize "the emergency" or the nature of the problem

seen by the expert or "outsider," and may deeply resent action

taken in respect to it. As Professor Margaret Read suggests on this
point:
30
The trained scientist, whether his branch of study and work is

medicine, agriculture, forestry or similar fields, is at an initial
disadvantage when he tries to put over to the local people new
methods of cultivating, new precautions against the spread of
disease, new ways of preserving forests on hillsides or of breeding
better animals. This disadvantage is based on the fact that he does
not know how the local people regard their ti-aditional practices, nor
what they think of his new ones. He is sure that he is right in what
he is advocating, and he cannot see why, in view of their sickness,
or hunger, or lack of water, they do not see his point of view and at
least give it a trial. We who in our modern age have been brought
up with an almost blind faith in anything labelled scientific do not
easily realize that the peasant has a sense of security in his very
insecurity. We think he must want to know how to avoid the hungry
months, how to reduce the death rate among his children. But that
insecurity is the thing he knows, and he understands it in so far as
he has always hved with it and adjusted his practices and his ideas
in relation to it.^^
Whether it is adjustment to insecurity or simply adjustment to

certain ways of life which seem proper and inevitable, most
communities of people, be they in African villages or New York
slums, will change their ways only if forced to change or if highly
motivated to do so. As to being forced, the experience is that while
acceptance of the change may ensue, reactions of suspicion,
hostiHty, or increased insecurity and apathy may also be expected.
Thus many of those who are looking toward meaningful change
and more capable communities are resisting trying to press or "sell"

people techniques, services, or projects which are conceived and

developed by experts or small planning groups.
A striking demonstration of this is the procedure of a medical team

working under the direction of a South African, Dr. Sidney Kark, in a
small village in Israel:
Two elements combine to make this work of special interest: (1)

The composition of the population of the village. This community
has about 800 inhabitants. They come from many parts of the
world, have a great
^5 Margaret Read, "Common Ground in Community Development

Experiments," Community Development Bulletin, Vol. II, No, 3
(June 1951), University of London Institute of Education, p. 45.
31
variety of ideas about health and physical care, and have a

multitude of diet and health practices, many of them unknown in the
Western world. Their attitude to modern medicine and its
practitioners also varies greatly, many groups being quite
superstitious and regarding doctors and nurses with a good deal of
suspicion. Some groups have deep-rooted traditions which make
no provision for modern medicine and its directives. (2) Kark's
philosophy of work is similar to Rene Sand's dictum, "Health cannot
be given to people, it demands their participation." Thus the
purpose is not to impose a health scheme on the community but to
attempt to have the community participate in developing its own
health program.
The interesting problem which Kark faces is how to implement such

a philosophy in a setting as unfavorable as this appears to be.
To begin with, an attempt is made to clarify philosophy so that all

the staflF are agreed on fundamental objectives and methods. For

those on the staff who had no more than orthodox medical training,
this is often a difficult learning process. Kark does not du'ect,
impose, or lead his staff in the traditional sense. There are frequent
staff meetings in which village practices are discussed and in which
Kark questions many of the assumptions and value-judgments of
staff members. This, as suggested, is difficult for some staff
persons—all their lives they have been taught what was "right" and
what was "wrong." They see many "wrong" practices in the village
and feel that their duty is to correct them. This is their job as they
conceive it. To have a director who not only does not support their
efforts at reform but questions their authority for judging "right" and
"wrong" makes for a difficult period of adjustment. But Kark's
philosophy with staff is approximately the same as with the
villagers. Roughly it might be summarized thus: "As a rule of thumb,
one should never attack the fundamental types of belief directly. If
erroneous and incompatible with reality, the fundamental beliefs will
themselves dissolve in the course of time, but nothing gives them
life like a direct attack upon them. Their untruth has to be
discovered slowly by the people, and at the same rate at which the
people are finding new sources of security. A belief upon which a
person's security depends cannot simply be wiped out. Disillusion
from the belief has to be accompanied by a shift to dependence
upon a new kind of support."
Kark's work begins, then, not with lectures, moving pictures or

distribution of literature on how to be healthy (the Western way) but
with an attempt to understand the health practices of various
national groups in the community and how these practices fit in with
their whole culture. This is done with considerable objectivity, with a
recognition that these
32

practices have meaning for these people, and may in fact have
absolute value which has not hitherto been recognized in Western
society.
Secondly, there is no attempt to impose new standards on these

people —to challenge existing beliefs and practices. Rather an
attempt is made to create a situation (or a social chmate) in which
free interaction of medical staflF and villagers will take place. This
interaction will lead to exchange of ideas and it is hoped to a
feehng of need on the part of the villagers for change in some
practices. Here again it is recognized that people Will change only
when they feel ready for change. The objective, therefore, is to
create readiness for movement.^^
While such approaches as this are far from prevalent, experience is

suggesting the validity of the expert wôrking with the people,
learning their culture, sharing his own ideas with humility, and
encouraging experimentation rather than pressing for acceptance
of his program.
While this may seem obvious in less-developed countries, it is

probably equally true for advanced countries as well. Consistent
use of highly specialized planning bodies to deal with problems of
the community moves the citizen farther and farther away from the
point where he can have anything effective to say about the
conditions under which he is to live and work. The result of this
process is, of course, disintegration of the community as an
association to which one belongs in a meaningful way and for
which one feels responsible. While planning by experts is essential
in a complex civilization, and while all people cannot be consulted
on all details of new developments, it is being suggested that ways
and means must be found to provide the average citizen with some
sense of participation in, and control over, his changing
environment.

The same argument may apply to a functional community. A

welfare council worker may be concerned with the "emergency"
situation which exists in respect to recording, or personnel
practices, or in-take procedures in the welfare agencies in the
commimity and be able to win the support of a few influential
citizens in pressing for reform and action in one or all of these
areas. But the
16 Murray G. Ross, "The Theory and Principles of Community

Development," Report of a UNESCO Fellowship experience,
January 1954, pp. 22-24.
33
result of such procedure is probably to encourage resistance,

negative attitudes to the council, withdrawal or overt hostility. The
capacity of the agencies to work eflFectively at identifying and
coping with their own problems is not increased, but probably
diminished, by such an approach.
COMMUNITY PACE
There is growing recognition that most communities of people have

their own techniques and pace for carrying on the business of life,
and while these may be altered, they cannot be changed radically
without disrupting the life of the people. Professor S. Herbert
Frankel of Oxford University makes this point with clarity when he
says:
... to suggest that rapid structural changes are what is most

required overlooks the fundamental question whether the real
problem is not to avoid, as far as possible, all types of
"catastrophic" action so as to give time for slower—more organic—
and less unstable changes. ... In my view a whole people can no
more be given rapid economic development by investment in mass

education, than it can be given "democracy" by "investment" in

mass political training. For, quite apart from the time all this takes,
what is involved is neither just another ready-to-hand goal of action,
nor the transfer of a new set of techniques, but the necessarily slow
growth of new aptitudes, and of new ways of doing, living, and
thinking. We should do everything possible to make the life-giving
waters of international culture flow to the uttermost ends of the
earth . . . but let us beware lest pride in our ways of life blind us to
the social heritage of others. The problem is not to wipe the slate
clean in the underdeveloped countries, and to write our economic
and technical equations on it, but to recognize that different peoples
have a different language of social action, and possess, and,
indeed, have long exercised, peculiar aptitudes for solving the
problems of their own time and place; aptitudes which must be
further developed in the historic setting of their own past to meet
the exigencies of the present and the future.^^
The pace developed by any community of people may seem
^'^ S. Herbert Frankel, The Economic Impact on Under-Developed

Societies, Harvard University Press, 1953, pp. 94, 96.
34
extremely slow to the outsider, yet this deliberate pace permits

adaptation both to the change introduced and to the many-sided
effects arising from this change.
One of the serious diflficulties experienced by human beings who

attempt to change the culture within which they hve is that the very
fact of planning itself makes it possible to force through a single line
change in disregard of the hundreds of side eflFects which are
taken care of in unplanned change, which occurs within a society
unsupported by disproportionate governmental or industrial
pressure. Where a system of piped-on water is gradually spread

through a country, with each village taking responsibility for its own
water supply, the changes may be very slow, but problems of land
ownership, of where the clothes are to be washed, of combining
watering cattle and arranging business transactions, etc., will be
thrashed out slowly, and the disruption of old ways of hfe will be
less serious. When a new impulse towards better water, or better
roads, or better land use sweeps the country, implemented by
funds and personnel from outside the community, its eflFective
progress is rapid, but fewer such adjustments can take place. ... It
is possible to say that in all old and habitual enterprises, with slow
and traditional introduction of small changes, the side effects of a
change can be felt and responded to by the members of that
society. When change is introduced by external forces, however
beneficent in intent, these protective behaviours cannot operate,
and changes may go much too far in some given direction before
compensatory measures can be taken.^^
Some vÛ maintain, of course, that while pace is an observable

aspect of village or town life, there is no consistent and all-
pervading sense of pace in the large urban center. Here all is
sporadic and uneven. But this is not to suggest that groups of
people in neighborhoods or in functional communities cannot and
do not develop traditional ways of carrying on their activities in the
city. And what is being implied here is that planning and activity
which persistently disregard traditional methods, or which do not
permit these communities to grapple at first hand with the
possibilities and realities of change, vdll encourage apathy or
disruption that is unhealthy and dangerous.
1* Margaret Mead (ed.), Cultural Patterns and Technical Change,

UNESCO, Paris, 1953, pp. 315-316.
35

INDIGENOUS PLANS
There is increased appreciation of the value of indigenous plans as

opposed to externally imposed ideas. As Alexander Leighton has
suggested, "No matter how good a plan is, if the people for whom it
is made fail to feel it belongs to them, it will not work successfully."
^^ The validity of this has been amply demonstrated in assistance
programs in less-developed countries, where vast amounts of
money have been spent to launch projects, some of which have
been little appreciated, a few of which have been thoroughly
disliked, and many of which have not enjoyed cooperation from the
local people. There are many stories similar to that of the erection
of a factory in which natives will work only a few days a week
because this much work will provide sufficient pay to maintain the
standard of living to which they are accustomed. But this is equally
true in North American cities where, for example, the settlement
house is placed in a slum area, or an industry builds a huge
recreation plant for its employees. In either of these latter situations
one will find counterattractions (less pretentious it is true) organized
by the people themselves. They may use the settlement house and
the recreation hall, but it is quite clear that these "are not theirs" and
that it is in their own setting, where they "feel at home," that
spontaneous fun and enjoyment and meaningful experiences are
found. These "outside" resources (like the settlement house or
industrial recreation hall) are often not quite accepted, and certainly
lack the effectiveness of projects developed by the people
themselves. Increasingly, it is being assumed that a project or
change to be meaningful, and fully used and valued, must be an
object of identification for the people who are to use and value it.
The methods by which this may be achieved are many and varied,
and as we have implied, secure varying degrees of identification,
use, and value.
^9 Alexander H. Leighton, The Governing of Men, Princeton

University Press, 1945.
36
GROWTH IN COMMUNITY CAPACITY
There is recognition that successfully working through one problem

will increase a community's capacity to deal with other problems
with which it may later have to cope. This implies that a community
may develop problem-solving techniques and capacities in dealing
with one problem which may stand it in good stead when it
confronts new problems in the community. This has been found
true for the individual, who achieves greater self-understanding and
integration as he works through his problem with the aid of a
therapist. It has been reported that families who have successfully
worked through problems of family life develop greater cohesion
and increased resistance to forces disruptive to family life than do
families that have not dealt with such problems.^° It has been
shown, also, that a whole industry develops greater flexibihty and
capacity by dealing in a comprehensive way with a few problems
than if it were to ignore these problems or attempt to deal with all
the problems of the industry at the one time.^^ Similarly, we are
coming to recognize that the community that can be involved in a
process by which it deals with one of its common problems may be
involved in a process of self-understanding and integration that will
make it possible for this community to extend the range and scope
of the problems with which it can deal successfully. This hypothesis
has not been documented for the community, as yet, but it is a firm
conviction of many workers who have watched individuals and
groups grow in their capacity to function in community projects.
TEDE WILL TO CHANGE
There is recognition that the will and desire of people for a given
change should precede initiation of any program leading to this

20 Lawrence K. Frank, in a lecture delivered at the University of

Toronto, March, 1954.
21 Jaques, op. cit., p. 306.
37
change. There has long been recognition, of course, that if will and
desire were present, change would be greatly facilitated. But what
does one do when no such will or desire exists? The tendency in
many community situations has been to push ahead with change
without such support. The results have not always been so
pleasant or fruitful as one might wish.
One often finds the novelist catching the spirit and nature of a
technical point far more effectively than the experts who seek to
expound the theory. Thus one finds Robert Lund's hero reflecting
on his failure to bring progress to a small island of people to whom
he has served as governor. His friend raises a fundamental
question when he says:
"Petro," Manuel said thoughtfully, "here is the way it seems to me.

People do not like change. They live in a certain way, and they are
used to that way. Sometimes they are hungry, they are abused,
they are poor where there is plenty, and yet they do not like to be
disturbed. Look at those five families at Umitac which you
punished. They were sick and poor. You gave them ten hectares of
land each. You gave them ten chickens and a cock each. You gave
them a sow and a carabao each, and they refused it all. Remember
what the one man said? 'We did not ask for these things. They
belong to our Church and we have no right to them. Why can you
not leave us alone? Why do you force trouble and worry on us?'
That man and the others were bewildered by these things. It gave
them responsibility. They had property to worry about. They were
forced to think where they had never thought before. Petro, you

want to bring freedom to Guam, and I would like to see it as much

as you, but there must be a desire for it. Freedom is a spirit inside
of a man. When he has it you can show him the road and he will
follow close behind you, but you cannot carry him. Freedom is a
hard thing to win whether it is a man who wins his freedom from a
nagging wife, and says, 'I am going to the cafe to drink and talk,'
and goes, or whether it is freedom from religion, or a bad
government, a man must have the desire for it. Do not blame these
people, Petro. They have lived in the same way for three hundred
years. They were free before that, but you cannot bring back their
freedom in a day or a year. You can force it, but then it is not
freedom. Perhaps in twenty years, when these children grow up."
He stopped and looked at Peter. "But you do not have twenty
years."
38
"No," Peter said, "but my government has, that and longer, and
they will bring freedom to the Chamorros." ^^
To seek to impose ideas or techniques or projects in the community

when there is no desire for these may not always lead to failure as
in the above illustration. The idea, technique, or service may be
accepted. But a community does not grow under such
circumstances. It grows and develops capacity only as it develops
will and desire to grow, only as it struggles and strives to overcome
its difficulties, only as it achieves strength in the conquest of its own
problems.
We have seen in this chapter the variety of approaches to work in

the community and their differences in terms of objective, method,
and pace. The question of which is better is largely irrelevant, since
this depends on what goals are being sought in a particular and
unique situation. However, the trends we had identified, as arising

from field experience, suggest at least the value of a particular type

of approach. This latter involves a process in which the community
itself is involved in determining the nature, method, and pace of
change or innovation or reform. This process we call the community
organization process and we will seek to define and describe it in
the chapter which follows.
22 Robert Lund, Hour of Glory, George G. Harrap & Co., Ltd.,

1951, p. 275.
39
The Meaning of Community Organization
DEFINITION
c.
/OMMUNITY organization, as the term is to be used in this book, is

to mean a process by which a community identifies its needs or
objecBveSj^Îorders (or ranksj^these needs or
objectivesTHevelops the confidence and will to work at these needs
or objecti ves, finds the resources (internal and/or^xternar)_toêal
with these needs or objectives, takes action in respec t to them,
and in so doing extends ~and develops" cooperative and
collaborative attitudes and practices in the community. Let us
expand this defini-tiofi somewhat, ^^ T
By "process" we mean simply the conscious or unconscious,

voluntary or involuntary, movement from identification of a problem
(or objective) to solution of the problem or attainment of the
objective in the community. There are other processes for dealing
with community problems, but here we call the community
organization process that by which the capacity of the community to
function as an integrated unit grows as it deals with one or more

community problems. Sometimes it may be a deliberative process,

at other
40
times it may simply be the way people choose (because of tradition,

because it is comfortable, because this is "the way it happens") to
work together. The process may therefore evolve without the
assistance of the professional worker—it (the process) is something
apart from him.^ But the task of the professional worker in
community organization is to help initiate, nourish, and develop this
process. To do this he uses certain methods (on which we will
elaborate later). But it must be emphasized here, because of the
tendency to confuse process and method, that we are suggesting
that the professional community worker uses certain methods to
facilitate the community organization process, but that this latter
may emerge and be active in the community without the
professional worker's presence or without those involved being
conscious of the precise nature of the process or the steps in the
process. Part of the task of the worker in this field is to make the
process conscious, deliberative, and understood.
"Community," in the sense in which it is used here, refers to two

major groupings of people. (1) It may be all the people in a specific
geographic area, i.e., a village, a town, a city, a neighborhood, or a
district in a city. In the same manner it could refer also to all the
people in a province or a state, a nation, or in the world. For
instance, the task of the United Nations can be considered a
community organization project, in part at least, for what is being
attempted is development of cooperative working relations among
nations around common problems and objectives, the most
important of which is abolition of war and establishment of peace.
While, therefore, community organization is usually carried on in
small geographic areas, the process may be in operation in a

much, wider area. (2) But "community" is used here also to include
groups
^ In the Kibbutz (pi. Kibbutzim) described on pages 221-228, this

process is prevalent in the community, and deviation from it is
unusual. Similarly, in the Friends Society such a process is the
usual means of operating. There are other geographic or functional
communities in which this process occasionally or frequently
evolves. Often the process is followed without consciousness of
this as a unique or distinctive approach. And in many of these
cases, no< professional worker is present to stimulate or nourish
the process.
41
of people who share some common interest or function, such as

welfare, agriculture, education, religion. These interests do not
include everyone in the geographic community but only those
individuals and groups who have a particular interest or function in
common. Community organization may be involved (indeed it
regularly is) in bringing these persons together to develop some
awareness of, and feeling for, their "community" and to work at
common problems arising out of the interest or function they have
in common.
Some of these functional communities, it should be said, fail to

identify their true nature, and confuse themselves with the
geographic community. Thus many welfare or recreation or adult
education councils think of themselves as councils of the
geographic community, and fail to distinguish their functions clearly.
The welfare council and similar agencies have multiple and
somewhat different objectives. These are (1) to create the "welfare
community," i.e., bring into significant association those persons
who are part of the social organization of the welfare community;

(2) to make plans to meet the general needs of the welfare

community and the welfare needs of the geographic community;
and (3) to win support of the geographic community for its welfare
plans. These objectives tend to be confused and often remain
undifferentiated. But the difference is fundamental. The welfare
council has one kind of task within the welfare community—
coordination, identification of common needs, acting together in
respect to common needs, setting standards and targets for welfare
work, etc. There is a rather different task that the council performs
relative to the whole geographic community (of which, of course,
the welfare community is a part), i.e., identification of the "welfare
needs" of this total community, development of plans to meet these
needs, and enlisting support in the geographic community for
implem.enta-tion of these plans. Thus the objectives of the welfare
council require it to utilize the "inner resources" approach (basic
community organization process) within the "welfare community,"
but
42
to utilize something like the approach we have described under the

term "community relations" in the geographic community.^
There has been a tendency in welfare councils, as indeed in other

highly specialized councils (such as adult education, housing,
recreation, library, civil liberties, etc.) to confuse "functional
community" and "geographic community." Failure to differentiate
the two, and the diflFerent objective a council ought to have in
each, has led to considerable confusion. Within the "functional
community" the task is full development of the community organiza-
tio n process: in the "geographic commun ity^^ ttie task
is""advance-ment of a specialized program which the
''functlonaTcommuhity" (a minority group j feels is usetul and
desira15te~fDr-thj^^*geugraphic community." These different tasks

imply different objectives and different methods.
Those whose primary concern is that the geographic community

develop sufficient cohesion and capacity to deal with its own
problems have a focus for their work in the geographic community
which is distinct from the work of the adult education or welfare
council in the same geographic community. These latter councils
may wish to see greater community integration and may cooperate
to that end, but their primary effort is directed at advancement of
their own program of welfare or adult education in the geographic
community. This leads to quite different methods of work in the
geographic community. The welfare council by a variety of methods
sells, or gathers support for, or induces the acceptance of, a
welfare program in the geographic community.
On the other hand, t hose who seek to use the community organ-
ization process in th e geographic communit}^ (the "generalists" we
will call them here) assume that conceptions of need and programs
to meet these needs must be identifieHTTormulated, and acted
upon by the people in the geographic community. Therefore the
methods
2 A welfare council may, of course, take the initiative in stimulating

the community organization process in the geographic community.
See the illustration on pages 57-59 which describe the use of this
process within both the welfare community and the geographic
community.
43
developed to facilitate community development are focused on

nourishing people's desire and will to act in respect to their own
conception of need. Emphasis is placed wholly on the process, the
outcome having two facets: the need in respect to which the
community decides to act (a health center, a library, a playground)

and the objective, which is concerned with increasing capacity of

the community to act as a unit on such matters.
Special-interest councils, like the welfare council, thus have the

same objective in their "functional community" as the generalists
have in the geographic community. That is, the welfare council is
concerned about development of the capacity of the welfare
community to act cooperatively in respect to its common needs and
objectives. It recognizes that this requires that the welfare
community define its common problems and learn to function as a
unit in respect to these problems. Therefore it uses methods similar
to those whose objective is community integration or development
of community capacity. But what must be recognized (and what is
consistently ignored) is the fact that the field to which these
objectives and methods apply is an entirely different field for
specialized councils from that for the generalist in the geographic
community. The field of the former is the "welfare" or the
"recreation" or "civil liberties" community; for the generalist it is a
whole geographic area. In the geographic community, the objective
of the special council and the objective of the general council or
generalist are quite different.
The process and principles in community organization are almost

precisely the same in a geographic community and in a functional
community, but confusion as to the community in which one is
working can lead only to chaos. It is, for example, impossible to
work with all the people in either community, and it is therefore
essential to identify the major subgroups or subcultures in the
community in which one is working. A welfare council confused
about whether it is engaged in community organization in a
geographic community or in a functional community will have no
way of identifying clearly its subgroups, and the cooperative welfare
or-

44
ganization it should be building will be handicapped by seeking

(often in vain) to involve many subgroups from the geographic
community who have little interest, desire, or need to be intimately
involved in the welfare community.
The process of "identifying its needs or objectives" means simply

the way the community locates or focuses upon the problems in the
community about which it is disturbed, establishes goals for
community achievement, or both. This requires some amplification.
As implied above, there is no expectation that all the people in the
community will come together to establish goals, although
subgroup meetings, house-to-house canvass, opinion polls,
referendum votes, etc. may all make it possible for a large majority
of people to express opinions. But the group that meets to "identify"
the problems consists usually of the leaders of the various
subgroups in the community. A good deal more will be said later in
this book about the way subgroups and their leaders are located.
Sufiice here to say, that the representative leaders, in consultation
with members of their groups, identify a problem or problems about
which they wish something might be done. It is simply a process of
becoming conscious of "things we don't like," "things we need
here," "things we wish we could do," etc. Elementary as this may
sound, it is of great importance in community organization, for it is
from the feelings which surround these expressions of opinion that
will come the motivation for action. Many workers in the field take
too much for granted that consciousness of these problems or
needs on the part of people in the community already exists.
Actually many people live with their problems for such a long period
that they adjust to them, build defences to protect themselves from
consciousness of them, or learn to accept them to such a degree
that their feelings about them lie deeply buried. In community
organization the problems, needs, concerns, and hopes of the

community come to consciousness, feeling about them is

expressed, emotion is discharged and harnessed. A canvass of any
street in any neighborhood can elicit quick replies to "what are the
problems of this neighborhood?" These quick and often superficial
replies may indicate
45
precisely what the people really feel needs attention; often,

however, it is only in a less formal atmosphere that people will
reveal long-buried feelings about their neighbors, their city
government, their schools, their houses, their jobs, which constitute
problems or goals which are probably the matters of fundamental
importance to the people concerned.
To say that the community "orders (or ranks) these needs or

objectives" is simply to indicate the necessity of establishing some
order of priority. Among the host of problems or objectives, some
will represent ideas about which there is much feeling, great
conviction, and unanimity of opinion. These are the things for first
attention. At this point the worker can assist greatly in processing
the expressions of desire or need. But he does not determine
content. This latter is dependent upon the community. It is a need
because they feel it is a need, not because it is reasonable, logical,
or scientific. The "feeling about" is a prime determinant of the
importance of a problem for community action. Now every
professional worker will have his own conception of the
community's need and problems. He will have inevitable biases.
Some feel he should be completely objective (which is impossible)
or that he should not reveal his own conception of the problem
(which is hardly honest). Our own conviction here is that the
professional worker has a right, if not a responsibility, to reveal his
own appraisal of the community and its needs. This responsibility is
not unlike that of the psychiatrist who does analysis and

interpretation at appropriate times but does not claim infallibility and

does not insist on acceptance of his ideas. Similarly, the community
organization worker has the privilege of contributing his conception
of needs. But rather than press for acceptance of his formulation,
his emphasis is on having the people rank his objectives along with
the many others which may be suggested. If, therefore, the
emphasis is on "how will we rank these various needs?" rather than
on "this is the problem as I see it," we will have the kind of process
we are seeking; to detail here.
Many communities, like individuals, identify problems with
46
which they feel incompetent to deal or objectives they feel they

cannot reach. This is particularly true of those communities in which
apathy, indifference, and the conditions of anomie have set in.
Hope for any improvement in life seems long ago to have been lost.
In such circumstances identifying and focusing upon needs is of
little use if the community, through its leaders, does not find both
the will to attempt movement and the confidence that such
movement can be successful. In some communities, of course,
there is an abundance of such confidence; in others there are
individuals whose sense of security and confidence is contagious
and provides support for others. Communities lacking these
circumstances find difficulty in mobilizing for action—the desire, will,
hope seem to be lacking. Sometimes a crisis shakes people from
their lethargy, and new movement is possible. Often the support
must come from an external agent, such as the community
organization worker, whose stimulation, encouragement, and
support make possible development of a conviction that "something
can be done here" and "we can do it."
Finding the resources (internal and/or external) to deal with these

problems involves (beyond the will and confidence necessary)

discovery of the other tools, instruments, persons, techniques,
materials, etc. necessary to do that which is felt to be important to
do. It involves not merely the resources of the people within the
community but, where necessary, drawing upon resources outside
the community. Here is a little village in India which decides it must
develop a more effective water supply. Part of the task is finding the
source for the supply, securing and laying pipe lines, providing for
distribution within the community, and regulating the use of water in
the village to maintain a consistent supply. Another part of the task
is securing permission to use water from this source, discovering
the technique of using the supply economically, and laying the
pipes properly. Most of the first group of tasks, the villagers can and
will do, but the second group may require outside advice and
assistance. Similarly, a neighborhood council in the United States
may decide that its major problem is housing and that it wishes to
47
do something about this. The complexities of the housing problem

in most large urban centers would make this seem an insoluble
problem for a small neighborhood. Certainly it would be without
outside resources—resources which help the group to understand
the nature of the problem, the sources of aid available (private and
governmental), the other agencies and groups with the same
interests and concerns as the council, the points at which the
housing problem can be most eflFectively tackled, and ways in
which short-term plans for conservation and neighborhood
improvement may be developed along with long-term plans for
slum clearance. What is required in most community problems is an
awareness of "what we can do for ourselves," "where we need
outside help," and a knowledge of resources available. To attempt
to deal with problems for which local resources are inadequate may
simply cause frustration and a sense of failure—and create or

recreate a state of apathy in respect to all other problems. A wise

group will be able to utilize fully its own resources and at the same
time recognize the points at which outside help, or a different kind
of action, is required.
It should be added parenthetically that communities, like

individuals, seldom use their own resources to the full. In
communities in which a process of community organization has
been initiated and continued, people are often surprised at their
own capacities, and those of their fellows, to take part in community
endeavors. Almost every professional worker, whether in slum,
suburban, or primitive communities, has testified to the wide variety
of capacities found among the peoples of these communities.
The proposition "takes action in respect to these" is perhaps self-

explanatory. It may be added, however, that this is a vital aspect of
the process. To neglect it is to encourage the feeling, probably
prevalent in many North American communities, of "another
organization that never gets anything done." Now, many
organizations that do little more than encourage people to sit
around and talk are valuable and useful, and we should have the
maturity to understand and support such a process. But because of
the predisposition in
48
North America to want to see obvious results, and because the

community organization process identifies a problem about which
something "needs doing," action needs to be taken in respect to the
problem and reported back to those who marked the problem out
for action. In some cases "simply talking" is the only action feasible;
in most cases there can be tangible, "practical" action. But what is
important is that the process leads to some achievement, partial
though it may be. For it is this achievement that for many persons,

certainly in the first projects attempted, tests the validity of the

process. If something is accomplished, the difficulties will be
suffered gladly, a glow of satisfaction will emerge, new confidence
and a strengthened resolve will develop.
While all stages in the process are important and in fact

inseparable, certainly none is more important than the final
qualifying phrase in our definition that "in so doing (it) extends and
develops cooperative and collaborative attitudes and practices in
the community." What is implied here, in the simplest terms, is that
as the process evolves and progresses, people in the community
will come to understand, accept, and work with one another; that in
the process of identifying and dealing with a common problem,
subgroups and their leaders will become disposed to cooperate
with other subgroups in common endeavors, and will develop skills
in overcoming the inevitable conflicts and difficulties which emerge
in such collective tasks. Without this qualification, and indeed
essential element, a community may achieve a specific goal with no
more skill and capacity at the conclusion of its task than it had
when it began—in fact, there may be less disposition and capacity
to work together. What community organization as a conscious
process is directed at achieving is not simply a new nursery, water
system, or housing project, but more important, an increased
capacity to undertake other cooperative projects in the community.
As Elliott Jaques suggests of the workers in a factory who initiated
such a process: ". . . they have set in motion a process and an
institution which will ensure for them that, however the new
methods work out, it is likely that they will be able to deal more
49
readily with similar problems in the future by being able to

recognize them earlier, and by being better equipped to cope with
them as they arise." ^' The result of the community organization

process, at any stage, is that the community should be better

equipped than at some previous stage, or before the process
began, to identify and deal cooperatively and skillfully with its
common problems.
This emphasis on collaborative and cooperative attitudes and

practices does not imply elimination of differences, of tension, of
conflict. Indeed, these latter are the forces which give life and
vitality to a movement. It must be recognized, however, that such
conflict can be disruptive and destructive, or it can be positive and
creative. It can move through a community leaving bitterness,
distrust, and hatred. Or conflict can lead to increased
understanding, tolerance, and community strength. The difference
in the effects of conflict in particular situations is undoubtedly the
result of many factors, but we suggest that none is more important
than the attitude of the people involved toward, and their skill in
dealing with, conflict. Tension and conflict can be used for
constructive ends by people with understanding of community
processes; with a devotion to community goals; with skill in
committee and community participation; with a disposition to find a
modus operandi. Cooperative and collaborative work requires
people who can endure, welcome, and move comfortably with
diversity and tension. The problem of initiating and sustaining the
community organization process in such a way that it will acquire
increasing strength and power in any setting is precisely that of
finding or developing enough people of this kind. In most situations
it is a slow process and one which wiU become dynamic only as
the area of shared concern, and the capacity for cooperative work,
are spread throughout the community. This is the "added
dimension" in the community organization process. It is not simply
getting a particular task accomplished: it is the achievement of such
insights and skills by members of the
3 Elliott Jaques, M.D., The Changing Culture of a Factory,

Tavistock Publications, Ltd., 1951, p. 105.
50
community as will permit a creative use of tension and conflict in

the community.
Many persons participating in community organization will see the

practical steps to action as the essence of the process, and for the
professional worker this will also be important, but for him (the
worker) the fundamental and dominant long-term goal is
development in the community of the capacity to function as a unit
with respect to its needs, problems, and common objectives. This
goal may gradually be understood by the participants, but it is not
unusual for the community, like the patient in therapy, to be
primarily concerned with the immediate problem, and for the
professional worker, like the therapist, to be primarily concerned
with long-term objectives of adjustment and integration.
PLANNING AND COMMUNITY INTEGRATION
It will be seen from the above that there are essentially two aspects
to the community organization process: one having to do with
planning, and the second with community integration. In our view
these two essential aspects of community organization, each
important in its own right, are inseparable parts of the one process-
in fact, one can state that only when these two aspects are
interlocked and merged into one process is community
organization, as we used the term here, present.
"Planning" we use here as an inclusive term to take in all aspects of

the act, from identification of a problem to action in respect to it.
Some may prefer a phrase such as "task orientation," or "project,"
or "action process." The choice of terms is a matter of preference.
But what is involved is the process of locating and defining a

problem (or set of problems), exploring the nature and scope of the
problem, considering various solutions to it, selecting what appears
to be a feasible solution, and taking action in respect to the solution
chosen. This is obviously a complex process in itself, and as
suggested, constitutes for some professional community workers,
and for many people in the community, the whole of community
51
organization. If the planning process (as defined here) is carried

through effectively and efficiently, they feel community organization
has been successfully undertaken. In the view taken in this book,
tliese are necessary, but not sufficient, steps.
The second aspect of community organization we term "community

integration." Some would prefer to call this development of
"community morale" or "community capacity" or "the spiritual
community." Again this is simply a matter of terminology
preference. In the sense in which it is used here, community
integration is a process in which the exercise of cooperative and
collaborative attitudes and practices leads to greater (1)
identification with the community, (2) interest and participation in
the affairs of the community, and (3) sharing of common values and
means for expressing these values. This implies a process at work
in the community which facilitates the growth of awareness of, and
loyalty to, the larger community of which the individual is a part;
development of a sense of responsibility for the condition and
status of the community; emergence of attitudes which permit
cooperation with people who are "different"; and growth of common
values, symbols, and rituals in the community as a whole.
This does not mean a community in which all norms, beliefs,

values, and ways of life are standardized. But it does suggest that
community means a "common life" of some kind, and that there is

value in identifying oneself with, and sharing in, this common life.
Implicit in much that has been said is the assumption that
association with, and feeling "part of," this common life not only is
an experience which provides the individual with certain
psychological security, and his life with certain meaning it might not
otherwise have, but that it builds a community capable of dealing
with common problems which, if they were not solved, would lead
to deterioration of the physical or social communit)^, or both. These
assumptions will be discussed in greater detail in the next chapter,
but it may be well to state here that belief in a process of
community organization is based on certain value-preferences
which all do not share. It may be well also to stress that this
process should not
52
lead to eradication of differences among subgroups and

subcultures in the community. A welfare council composed of sixty
welfare agencies is not seeking to make all the agencies alike or to
standardize all procedures within them. What it is seeking is
identification of common problems with which all are concerned and
with promotion of capacity of these sixty agencies to work
cooperatively in solving these problems. Similarly the neighborhood
council is not devoted to having the Polish group and the Mexican
group, for example, eat and dress alike and observe identical
festive days. Nor does it seek eradication of differences among
church groups. What is sought is an understanding of these
differences, acceptance of them by all in the community, but at the
same time, development of a common frame of reference within
which all can work together for common ends. "Diversity within
unity" is a popular slogan, but in many North American communities
"diversity" is more readily apparent than "unity."
While there are therefore two dominant tasks in, or aspects of,

community organization (planning and community integration), it is

essential that these two be considered integral aspects of the same
process. For the writer, by far the more important objective is
community integration. But community integration is not something
that is developed by itself, or by good-will meetings, or by wishing
and talking about it. It is a quality of community life that emerges in
action, as people rub shoulders in common tasks, as people share
consciously in common projects, as they seek common goals. And
it appears that the more important these latter tasks and goals are
to the people concerned, the more intensely they share in the
project, the more significant the process of sharing becomes, and
the deeper the "feeling" for community that results.^ For this
reason, planning in respect to problems that the people of the
community feel to be of the greatest importance is an essential
element of the community
* Something like this has been suggested by several studies of

morale in which a prime condition is said to be the sharing of
common goals considered to be of tlie greatest importance (see
Goodwin Watson, Civilian Morale, Reynal & Hitchcock, Inc., 1942).
53
organization process. There has been a tendency among social

workers to deprecate the methods and efforts of some urban
neighborhood councils that deal with such matters as rat control,
traffic safety, housing, child-rearing, and liquor-law enforcement in
their neighborhoods. Yet here we see concern with issues which
are of supreme importance to the residents of these
neighborhoods. One can almost say that the degree of relevance of
the projects chosen to the primary concerns of the people in the
community determines the significance of the process for the
community and the possibilities for developing a common life that
has meaning and importance to the people in the community.

Thus the view here is that planning and community integration are
inseparable parts of the community organization process and that
both constitute elements which must be carefully cultivated and
nourished in every step of the process. We intend later to detail the
way in which this may be achieved, but at this point we may
illustrate briefly how these two parts of the process affect work in
the field of community organization.
Example A is a small neighborhood council in a city in the United

States that has been considering opening a community nursery
school for children of working mothers. At a previous meeting there
was general approval of the plan, and the only question raised was
by a Roman Catholic member, Mr. M, who reported he believed his
church had been considering opening such a nursery for members
of the church. He was asked to investigate, consult with officials of
the church, and if possible bring Father R to the next meeting. At
this meeting the plan was ready for implementation, all present
favored immediate action, but neither Father R nor the man who
raised the original question was present. The question raised by the
chairman was, "Should we go ahead in view of their absence?"
Now, simple as this question appears, the answer may have
profound significance for the community. As far as carrying out the
plan is concerned, there was no obvious reason for delaying
action—the funds, location, and leadership were all ready. But in
terms of developing community integration, it was of vast im-
54
portaiice for future cooperative work that the plan be one that all are
agreed was right and proper. In this case, the council decided to
ask a subcommittee to meet with Father R, Mr. M, and other church
oflBcials to discuss the matter; if they approved, the plan would be
put into immediate action; if not, it would be referred back to a
special meeting of the council. It so happened that the Catholics did

want to open their own school, but when the subcommittee met
with Father R and Mr, M, the discussions were friendly, and the
Catholic leaders agreed to come to the special meeting of the
council. At this meeting Father R explained the position of his
church and its desire to assume responsibility for its own children.
The matter had been discussed in the parish, however, and it was
felt that one nursery school was sujBficient for this particular
neighborhood. Therefore he wished to support, and cooperate with,
the council school, but requested that Catholic children be
permitted to come to his church for half an hour on two mornings
each week. The reason for this request was explained, the matter
discussed at length, and the new cooperative plan was agreed
upon. The nursery school was opened with the support of all major
groups in the community.
It cannot be claimed, from this brief report, that community

integration was increased by this project. Nonetheless, one may
speculate that the course taken by the council tended to make for
greater understanding in the community of diverse points of view,
for greater unity of feeling around the plan developed, and for
greater community integration than would be the case if the council
had moved without consulting leaders of the Roman Catholic
church. Elementary as this illustration may seem, it suggests that
consciousness of the need for community integration in the
community organization process may lead to increased good wiU
in, and capacity on the part of, the community.
Example B is a small village of recent settlers in Israel, a village in

which there was a fairly rigid power structure with three families
serving as the traditional leaders of the sixty families who
constituted the village. The government social worker assigned to
work
55

with these people (and several other villages) moved slow^ly and
carefully. It was soon apparent to her that the leaders of the village
were more concerned with their own gain than with the welfare of
their people; that while their leadership was tolerated and accepted
as inevitable, they were neither liked nor trusted by the people; and
that much of tlie apathy which characterized the life of the village
could be attributed to these facts. Nevertheless, the tradi-tional way
of getting action in the village was through these leaders, and if the
government was to secure cooperation from the village in raising
certain crops and getting the village established on a self-
supporting basis, it seemed apparent that they would have to work
with and through these leaders. The worker, herself, felt she could
not be part of this inequitable power structure. Gradually as she
became acquainted with the people she was able to discover
persons who were liked, respected, and trusted by the villagers.
Without neglecting the formal leaders, she gradually spread her
area of consultation on welfare needs to include the informal
leaders, and she eventually held several meetings at which both
formal and informal leaders were present. These latter, silent at
first, soon learned with the support of the social worker to speak at
meetings. A much more realistic picture of village needs and
resources was developed. The formal leaders, feeling their power
slipping, fought the movement that included consultation with
informal leaders. This the worker tried to handle in long private
discussions with the formal leaders, but as power moved more and
more into the hands of the villagers, two of the formal leaders left
the village, while the third formal leader adjusted to the situation
and became an accepted leader in the new village organization.
This latter took the form of a council elected by all the villagers
each year; three years after its initiation, it was making a good deal
of progress both in terms of developing commvmity life and in terms
of material (mainly agricultural) gain.
Now, it is conceivable (especially if the formal leaders had been

more responsible people) that agriculture and welfare problems

could have been handled with greater dispatch and with as much
56
eflBciency if there had simply been acceptance of the existing

power structure and a disposition to work through the traditional
leaders. But, again, if community integration—development of the
capacity of a community of people to function in respect to their
problems-is a goal of the worker, then some such steps as reported
above are essential. The result in this case was completely
satisfactory; in other cases it might be far less so. Nonetheless, the
objectives implicit in community organization require an attempt to
release the potentialities of the community, and this cannot be
achieved, it is submitted here, by acceptance of a dictatorship,
however benevolent.^ Thus the planning goal must be considered
along with the goal of community integration, and this latter requires
conscious development of cooperative and collaborative attitudes
and practices throughout the community.
A third example is the consideration given by the board of directors

of a large Community Chest to the recommendation of its budget
committee. The latter had recommended that the Chest terminate
its grant to Agency C, a home for unmarried mothers. The reason
for the budget committee's action stemmed from an agreement
reached by all agencies serving unmarried mothers that they would
serve only women who had been resident in the city six months
prior to their request for service or help. The representative of
Agency C had agreed to this policy, but since that time its board
had discussed the matter further and had decided they could not
follow such a regulation and would continue to accept unmarried
mothers from out of the city. Actually Agency C was a small
organization; they received only partial support from the Community
Chest. The budget committee's recommendation was based on the

views expressed by such statements as, "If we agree on policy, we

have to stand back of that policy," and "What is the use of planning
if we don't implement our plans?"
Such action must be evaluated in the light of the actors' objectives:

if planning and uniform action are the paramount objective,
5 See Leonard Woolf, Principia Politica, Hogarth Press, 1953, pp.

28&-314.
57
the recommendation of the budget committee is probably sound.

But if the objective is to develop the capacity of the community to
work together on matters of common concern, then surely such
action as was proposed by the budget committee is destructive and
arbitrary. In this situation, the board of the Chest delayed action,
investigated the situation by meeting with the board of Agency C,
and found that this agency, which was an agency of a religious
sect, felt an obligation to provide services to girls sent to them by
their members in nearby small towns where no such services were
offered. In view of this, an agreement was reached with all
concerned, whereby the Chest would continue its grant, but Agency
C would provide special funds (on a per diem basis) to care for out-
of-town clients.
Again, obvious and sensible as such action appears, it underlines

the primary function of a community organization agency, which is
to facilitate mutual understandings, identify common areas for work,
and nourish cooperative work in these areas. It is not simply to
develop efficient planning, and not at all to eradicate differences,
nor to set up a superstructure to which all other parts of the
community are lesser in importance; it is to draw together
subgroups of the community in cooperative enterprises which the
subgroups feel are important, to the end that there is good will,

understanding, and capacity for united action when necessary.
The final illustration is that of a welfare council in which two

members of the board of the council became interested in the
treatment of juvenile offenders in the city. This interest was
expressed at a board meeting, with the suggestion that civic
officials be approached to remedy present practices. The matter,
which was presented in the dying moments of the board meeting,
was approved with but cursory consideration, and a committee
composed of the two interested members and the council secretary
was appointed and given power to act. The small committee was
free to approach civic officials, and might well have done so with
modest success. The committee felt, however, that (1) they were
hardly competent themselves to decide the precise nature of the
remedy
58
to be proposed, (2) changes would come only as a result of

vigorous community protest, and (3) this was an opportunity for
collaboration on the part of all member agencies of the council. The
committee therefore increased its membership to include several
experts in the field, began intensive study of treatment of juvenile
law oflFenders, and developed a full report with appropriate
recommendations for improving practices in the local community. At
the same time, the committee sent two letters to the member
agencies of the council. The first letter outlined the nature of the
problem and urged agency interest and support; the second letter,
written as the committee's report reached its final stage of drafting,
asked agencies to send representatives to a meeting to consider
the committee's report. It was hoped a large and enthusiastic
meeting would endorse and support the report and join in sending a
delegation to the city hall to urge acceptance of the committee's
recommendations. Unfortunately less than half of the agencies

responded, the meeting was small and apathetic, and although the
committee's report was approved, there appeared little enthusiasm
for the report. The committee could now go directly to city hall with
what they were certain was a valuable plan for changed practices.
But they felt tliey had failed to arouse the agencies to the
seriousness of the problem, and had therefore failed to provide
opportunity for cooperative work on an issue of great importance.
After some exploration, the committee decided on a new approach
to agencies: a series of six case histories of juvenile oflFenders
was prepared; these were rewritten and illustrated by a public
relations firm. Each case described simply the experience of one
child, his appearance in an adult court, his stay in the city jail with
adult oflFenders, his exposure to indifiFerent oflficials and
hardened criminals. There was no evaluation of the experience
(although tlie lesson was obvious) but each case concluded with
the question: "Are you proud of tlie way
cares for its children?" These case histories were sent to
the agencies, one each week for six weeks. Copies were sent to
the local newspapers, all of which treated the matter in their
editorial columns, and one of which ran several articles with
photographs
59
of a small boy in court, in the city jail, being led to a car by burly
policemen. The effect was dramatic. Before the end of the six-week
period the council was being urged by the agencies to call a
meeting on this matter. When the meeting was held, every member
agency was strongly represented. The problem was discussed, the
committee's report was considered and slightly modified, and a plan
for implementation was developed. This latter recognized that the
welfare community was united in its desire for change, but called

for cooperation with other organizations and groups in the

geographic community in securing the desired change. A
conference was called, therefore, of representatives of all churches,
service clubs, and ethnic groups to consider the issue. This
conference called quickly was nevertheless well attended. Again
the problem was outlined, the proposals for change submitted, and
a plan for action was discussed. There was unanimous agreement
on the plan, and a delegation was appointed to appear before the
municipal council. This latter meeting resulted in full acceptance by
the city of the proposals of the conference, and rapid action on
these proposals followed.
It may be claimed that the two original members might have taken
direct action and secured results with an expenditure of a good deal
less time and energy than in this lengthy process. Or it may be
suggested that the committee simply used agency representatives
to secure support for the committee's proposals. But one may also
propose the hypothesis that this committee was concerned with
stimulating first the welfare community, and later the geographic
community, to act in respect to a common problem. True, the plan
was developed by experts, but the plan was modified and accepted
by the welfare community as a sensible way of dealing with an
issue about which all were concerned. And it may likewise be
claimed that the procedure followed took adequate account of the
need to nourish the dual processes of planning and community
integration, and that this approach led to the development of
capacity of both the welfare and the geographical communities to
function in respect to their common problems.
60
COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION AS A SOCIAL WORK PROCESS
Community organization, as it is defined and described here, is one

of the basic social work processes, being used to attain the same
basic objectives, and using many of the same methods, as case
work and group work. It has in fact moved through some of the
same stages as case work and has only recently (and in a limited
way) been able to identify itself with these other processes.
A number of years ago, there was what was sometimes called the
"religious counselor," a person who certainly knew the answer to, if
not the nature of, the problem even before he saw the client; in
community organization we have had the worker who knew the
problem and the solution to the problem before he arrived in the
community, and who proceeded to organize the community around
his conception of the need and the goal. Later, in counseling we
had a phase of "scientific psychological tests" on the basis of which
the counselor could tell the client not only what his problems were
but what he should do about them; in community organization we
have used some of the insights and tools of social science to show
where and how changes could be made with the least social
dislocation and with the greatest support in the community. Now, in
case work there is recognition that the client himself must be
involved in identifying his problem and mastering it, and that if the
process is successful, the client will be better equipped to deal, not
only with his original conscious problem, but with many other life
situations. Similarly, in community organization we are coming to
realize that the community itself must struggle and strive to deal
with its own conception of its needs, and that in doing this the
community can increase its capacity to deal not only with these
problems but with many other problems as they arise.
Thus, while the context in which the case worker, group worker, or
the worker in community organization operates is quite different,
fundamentally the objectives they seek and the means they use to
achieve these ends have a good deal in common. If we were to

61
adapt to case work our statement defining community organization,

it would read: "The case worker seeks to help the individual
identify^ his problems, develop "the confidence i^nd w ill to deal
vJith t hesa-problems, find the resources (internal and external) to
deal with
these problems, take action in respect to these problems, and in so

doing mcrease'Tiis understandiil^^nDf him lel f and his capacity for
integration." We should then be defining approximately what the
"case^'WOrker Oi" psychotherapist attempts with an individual
client.
Such an analogy must not, of course, be carried to extremes, for

the case worker deals with an individual, operates from a basis of
psychodynamic theory, seeks to relate diverse threads of individual
behavior. The community organization worker deals with a whole
community and its major subcultures, operates from a basis of
sociocultural theory, deals with such accounts of need as people
can express in meetings, seeks to relate diverse groups to one
another. One could therefore easily overemphasize the similar
nature of these processes. With this caution, it may be useful,
nonetheless, to explore briefly some of the fundamental similarities.
The objectives of all social work methods, for example, are similar.
All are concerned with removal of blocks to growth, release of
potentialities, full use of inner resources, development of capacity
to manage one's own (the individual, group, or community) life,
ability to function as an integrated unit. As already implied, these
have somewhat different application in the face-to-face, group, and
community situation. But essentially what is sought by all social
workers is this same general end. In community organization, what
is desired is initiation of that process which will enable a community

to overcome those blocks (apathy, vested interests, discrimination)

which prevent the community from working together; release of
potentialities and use of indigenous resources (which emerge as
the communitv' struggles and strives to deal with its needs or goals)
and growth of those cooperative attitudes and skills which make
possible achievement of increasingly difficult ends. This, as implied,
is merely application to the community situation of objectives
analogous to those of case and group work.
62
It is natural, also, that these processes should rest on similar

assumptions, namely, the inherent dignity and worth of the
individual, the resources possessed by each to deal with his own
problems, the inherent capacity for growth, the ability of the
individual (or group or community) to choose wisely in the
management of his own affairs. In addition there is the assumption
that people overwhelmed by the complexities of life often become
psychologically paralyzed, but with help this stage can be
overcome and normal processes of growth resumed. Some
extension of these assumptions is required for community
organization, and these will be detailed in the chapter that follows. It
may be stated here, however, that the above apply, with some
adaptation, for community organization. For example, communities
are also subjected to great forces which paralyze their capacity for
action and in some cases self-preservation. The condition of
anomie is not unknown in our society, but it is assumed that even
here with help a community can emerge from this situation and
develop capacity for cooperative action.
Further, somewhat similar methods are used to facilitate case work,

group work, and community organization processes. In case work
there is the need to accept the client, to develop a professional
relationship with the client, to start at the point where the client now

is, to provide him with understanding and support, to help him make
decisions and to take action, to help him struggle to overcome his
problems, to interpret the nature of the process in which he is
involved, to help him achieve independence, etc. If the community
is considered as the chent, these identical concepts are all
applicable. For the worker in community organization (as will be
pointed out in detail in Chapter 8) has the same general orientation
and approach, i.e., accepting the community as it is, helping it
move in the direction and at a pace which it finds both comfortable
and challenging, encouraging it to struggle, supporting it in times of
stress and discouragement, interpreting the short- and long-term
goals of the community organization process, etc. There are
common
63
methods, as there are common objectives and assumptions, for all

social workers.
But while there is this common base and a common core of

philosophy and method, there are significant differences in case
work, group work, and community organization. For example, how
does each deal with such a problem as hostility? In all situations
the worker must be prepared to accept the expression of hostility
with calmness and objectivity and to understand its meaning. But
the case worker deals with it in a face-to-face situation, the group
worker in a small-group setting, and the community organization
worker in the context of a whole community. The case worker asks
herself such questions as: To what degree is this expression of
hostility relevant to the problem on which we are working? Is this a
matter which should be explored with the client now or at another
time? Should it be ignored? To what extent is the client ready and
able to explore the cause and meaning of his hostility? The group
worker is also, of course, concerned about the cause of the

hostility, but he asks himself: Does this hostility represent a reaction

to group structure, group process, or group program? To what
extent is such hostility damaging to the group as a whole? Can the
group handle such hostility or does the hostile individual require
special treatment? Can the situation be altered in such a way as to
help the hostile person find greater satisfaction in the group? The
worker in community organization is similarly interested in the
causes of hostility, but he asks himself such questions as: Does
this represent a reaction to a threatening situation or process?
Does it reflect deep-seated feeling of one group toward another?
Does it relate to particular group values or orientation? Is this
hostility merely the expression of the individual or is it
representative of the group of which he is a member? What effect
has this on the community organization process? Can it be handled
by people in the community or is it likely to destroy the process in
which we are engaged? How may this be best handled?
In terms of treatment, the case worker is most likely to work out this
problem in face-to-face contacts. She may refer the client to a
64
psychiatrist if the problem is severe, she may attempt to adjust a

home situation if the root of the problem lies there, but in most
cases the hostility, if it requires exploration, will be examined by the
client and worker in a regularly scheduled face-to-face interview.
The group worker may see the problem of the hostile individual as
one which requires personal help and refer the individual to a case
worker or psychiatrist, he may, if he feels the continued expression
of hostility is destructive to the group, either move the hostile
person to another group or insist that the hostility be contained,*'
but probably he will seek to adjust the situation so that the need
which the hostility expresses (e.g., for affection, recognition, status,
etc.) is met in, and by, the group. The worker in community

organization does not make referrals or shift a member out of the

group or organization. He must deal with the hostility through the
people who lead and operate the organization. He may help the
group to accept calmly such expressions of hostility; he may help
the group or community to work its way through such expressions
of hostility but at the same time move consistently toward the real
issues. The worker's effort is directed at helping the community
develop the elementary insights necessary to face, accept, and
work through deep expressions of feeling in meetings and
conferences; he helps the community to recognize that in the
process of working together there will be inevitable conflicts and
expressions of hostility, and that the essence of the process is
development of capacity to work these through in meetings and
conferences. Occasionally there will be the severe neurotic who
consistently blocks progress, but even here the group must learn to
deal with this, even though the action taken must be consultation
with the neurotic's subgroup so that another person will represent
them, or promotion of the neurotic to some position where his
talents are used and his weaknesses are not accentuated.
The differences in diagnosis and treatment suggested above are

stated in general terms and could be greatly amplified. Enough
s Grace Coyle, Group Work with American Youth, Harper &

Brothers, 1948,
pp. 12,5-128; 232-247.
65
has been said, perhaps, to indicate certain fundamental differences

not merely in context but in method of dealing with the problem.
Primarily, the case worker works the problem out with the
individual; primarily, the group worker seeks to have the problem
handled, with his help, in the regular program of the group;

primarily, the worker in community organization attempts to help the

community understand and work through the problem itself. This, of
course, is subject to modification in many specific situations, but in
general it defines some major differences.
It is sometimes suggested that the real difference in case work,

group work, and community organization is the level at which the
worker in each specialization functions. Some feel the case worker
carries diagnosis to deeper levels, often probes the unconscious,
and provides therapeutic treatment, whereas the group worker or
community organization worker deals at a relatively superficial
level. In the writer's view this is a fallacious argument. Advanced
workers in all three specializations approach at times the
therapeutic level of work (although some question their right or
competence to work at this level) and there are not only individual
therapists but group therapists (who bring to light factors and forces
in the group situation of which members of the group are unaware),
and as we will show later, social therapists. The distinction
betMêen case work, group work, and community organization is
not the level at which the worker functions, but certain fundamental
distinctions in context, objective, and method.
It may be evident from the above that while all social workers must
learn to accept and deal with hostility, the way this is done varies as
between case workers, group workers, and workers in community
organization. What is true of dealing with the problem of hostility is
true of many other similar problems. There is a common objective;
there are common assumptions and certain common methods in
social work; but there are also significant differences in objectives
and methods in case work, group work, and community'
organization. All three processes move from the same general field
and have a similar orientation; but when they move from the
66

general into a specific field, they each develop distinctive ways of

dealing with problems of the individual, the group, the community.
In addition to the fact that some of the same insights and methods
develop differently in a specific setting (e.g., case work, group work,
etc.), each process has distinctive insights and methods of its own.
While increasingly, for example, the psychology of individual
behavior has moved to a consideration of group and cultural
factors, and case workers recognize the need to be aware of such
matters in dealing with a client, these factors are matters of
dominant concern for the worker in community organization. But
further, his interest in these matters is of a quite different nature. He
is interested in the various subgroupings and subcultures in the
community; the value systems, behavior patterns, and social
organization in each; tlie formal and informal leaders in each group;
the interests, problems, or concerns these groups have in common;
the degree of cooperation and competition between the groups; the
conception of status each group has of itself and of others; the
kinds of frames of reference within which all might work
comfortably; the values, symbols, and rituals which all share or
might share. The worker in community organization is interested in
the social forces playing on tlie community which facilitate or block
community integration, and which help or prevent individuals from
identifying themselves with the community as a whole, which
facilitate or handicap cooperative work, which create or ease social
tension. His is a large canvas and he is concerned with the
relationships of the major parts of the picture. His methods of
diagnosis are therefore different; his methods of operation are also
distinctive. These latter will be outlined in detail in Chapter 8 and
need not be expanded here. But sufficient has been said, perhaps,
to suggest that while all social work has a common philosophy and
methods, there are distinctive refinements of methods in the
specific settings of case work, group work, and community
organization, and each of these processes has unique features

which are not shared by the others.
There remains one other relationship between case work, group

v/ork, and community organization which requires identification. It
67
is frequently said that all case workers and group workers are
involved in community organization. What is often implied here is
that all should be involved, for it can hardly be claimed that they all
are. A case worker may, for example, perform adequately with
clients and neglect, or even resist, participating in cooperative work
of any other kind.
But what is often meant by community organization is what we

have described under community relations, and in this sense it is
probably true that all agency workers presumably have some
responsibilities for public relations, community services, and
community participation. Certainly these are important and
responsible activities, but they do not necessarily involve the
worker in community organization as it has been defined here. 1 In
an important sense all social workers should be involved in
community organization, for all are members of the welfare
community, all are members of a geographic community, and all
are probably members of several other "interest communities," such
as professional societies. It would seem important, therefore, that
all social workers understand the nature of the community
organization process and be capable of playing a constructive role
in this process.
One might expect the case worker and group worker to understand
something of the forces which make cooperative work difficult, to be
able to support a community as it strives to solve a problem with
which it is confronted, to be able to recognize the long-term goals of
developing responsibility and cooperation in the community, and to

facilitate this process. Many social workers, unfortunately, are not

able to perform in this way, and their failure to do so should be
instructive to social work educators. Apparently, for example, while
case workers have been trained to accept hostility in a case work
situation, many find this difficult to do in a group or community
situation; while they are conscious of process and of long-term
goals in dealing with a client, many become absorbed in the
content of a meeting and fail to recognize (or ignore) the process in
which they are involved in a group meeting; while able to see the
need to support the client in a face-to-face
68
situation, many are unable to provide similar support for individuals

or groups in the community setting. What this suggests is that there
has not been transference from one area, such as case work, to
another area, such as community organization; or that the generic
aspects of social work have not been sufficiently well taught. In any
case, many social workers are inept in a community organization
setting. As suggested, this poses a problem of considerable
importance for social work education—a problem which fortunately
we do not have to consider here.
A legitimate question to be asked here, however, is what may be

expected of a case worker or group worker participating in a
community organization project (but not as a professional
community organization worker)? We should expect that they
would:
1. Understand the objectives of community organization—i.e., not

simply the planning objectives for a nursery school, or a public
assistance program, or slum clearance program, but the community
integration objective which seeks to develop in the community
attitudes and practices of social responsibiHty and cooperative

work. It is so easy to see the obvious planning objectives and be

hypnotized by these, as opposed to seeing the long-range
objectives.
2. Be in sympathy with and support these objectives. Often

discerning and skillful people in case work or group work see the
community organization process as unrealistic or idealistic—"if you
need something in this kind of society, you have to fight for it."
These persons fail to recognize a rather different approach to social
action, one which is more concerned with long-term results than
with immediate gains; one which, in the interests of solving the
whole or ultimate problem, is content to delay the solution of the
immediate problem. This difference must be clear, and the long-
term objective must be supported. This does not mean, of course,
that the social worker does not take part in minority group action in
the community. The worker may join with others for higher wages,
may be part of a church group which fights against a city ordinance,
may be a member of a minority political party. And as a member of
69
the "welfare community," itself a minority group in the larger

geographic community, he may press for vigorous social action. But
within a given community structure, be it geographic or functional,
the worker should understand and support those processes which
make for mutual understanding, appreciation, willingness and ability
to work with others, capacity to function as a cohesive unit.
3. Be able objectively to regard behavior in the community setting.

Just as social workers learn to be objective in the case work or
group work situation, so they should learn to play the participant-
observer role in the community organization setting. This means
the capacity to understand the behavior of certain group
representatives; the sudden rise of tempers in a meeting; the

reason for apathy at points in the process; the rise and fall in
enthusiasm in the community organization process; the reason why
strong feelings arise in respect to certain issues; the way people,
unconsciously but with reason, move away from the subject and
pursue "rabbit trails"; the needs which are seeking satisfaction in
the behavior of the domineering, the overly active, the passive
participant; the historic, cultural, and status factors which make it
difficult for certain groups and their representatives to work
together; etc. These requirements of objectivity make it possible for
the worker to understand some of the forces operating in the
community setting and to lay the groundwork for more effective
participation.
4. Be skillful in associating himself with the community organization

process. This does not mean playing the role of the communit)^
organization worker (as will be defined in Chapter 8) but it does
mean ability to play a constructive part in the process, that is, ability
to help the group to define and clarify goals; to encourage the
group (as a group) to rank these goals and view them realistically;
to encourage frank exchange of views and full participation by all
present; to understand, accept, and identify oneself with diverse
subcultures in which the worker may not share; to support and help
to clarify the expression of opinion of the inarticulate or insecure; to
secure, and help others secure, satisfaction in the
70
achievement of consensus and community goals; to endure, and

help others endure, the painful occasions when agreement seems
impossible; to regard calmly, and help others accept, the inevitable
conflicts which occur in this process; etc. All these skills and many
others, it seems not unreasonable to suppose, all social workers
might display in a community organization setting.

5. Be able to contribute effectively in respect to content. In many

cases the social worker will have a specialized knowledge far
beyond that of many others in the community with regard to certain
issues about which there is concern. This makes it possible for him
to become the "main figure" in the situation, and perhaps to secure
the kind of recognition that he may wish or need. Needless to say
the role of a social worker, unless he is invited in as an expert
adviser, is hardly that of "explaining" or "lecturing." His role as a
participant is that of helping to clarify the problem, of contributing
factual information, of reporting experiences in other centers, etc.
Essential in such a contribution—and it can be one of great
importance—is ability to communicate with people in the
community. The "jargon" or technical language social workers have
developed is useful and time-saving to them, but it is a block to
communication with those not acquainted with it. Therefore, ability
to state simply and clearly the issues, the facts, the experience, is
especially important in the community field. A second aspect of this
communication is a degree of humility—many of the assumptions
upon which social work rests are still assumptions; they are not yet
unassailable facts and hardly provide a foundation for dogmatism. It
would be useful for social workers to make their contribution, then,
not only clearly but in such a way that people are less encouraged
to feel they are receiving a divine message than that they are being
stimulated to think, to strive, and to find for themselves what they
believe to be the best possible answers to their problems. The
effort is always directed at helping the community find its way,
ratlier than showing it the way.
As implied several times, most of these objectives and skills are
71
common to all fields of social work, but apparently the differences in

the setting lead some social workers to feel they apply in one

situation but not in another. These professional insights and skills

must be mastered, it is true, in one setting, but their application in a
variety of fields and situations would greatly facilitate work in
community organization.
72
Basic Assumptions in Community Organization
CRITICAL VIEWS
It cannot be said that the conception of community organization as

outhned in the last chapter is widely accepted. The assumption that
somehow life will be better if this process is activated in the
community is questioned by many. "Better for whom?" they ask.
"Are the people of a village or urban neighborhood happier, more
content, or more secure because some technician or professional
worker persuades them that they should organize to change their
way of life?" "Are welfare agencies likely to show more initiative,
offer better and more humane services, have more freedom
because they are induced to join a welfare council or community
chest?" Or, to shift the argument, "Even if one were able to initiate
such a process, does it deal with the problems of a society in which
technological development moves far faster than people can be
organized to meet and adapt to changing conditions?" In light of
these and other such questions, it seems necessary to attempt to
clarify our position further and to deal as adequately as possible
with these issues.
73
THREE CONTRARY VIEWS
Roughly, there are three main strands in these criticisms. The first
is concerned with the emphasis placed on cooperation in our

conception of community organization. There would be some who

would suggest that there is little evidence to indicate that
cooperative work brings the kind of results we imply in all, or even a
majority of, situations. Further, it could be argued that the emphasis
on cooperation as a primary good, which seems implicit in our
thesis, is hardly justifiable in light of competing goods (e.g., the
value of the individual personality). Therefore, some would suggest
that our interpretation of community organization overvalues and
overstresses cooperation. A friend writes, for example,
I have no desire to be deeply involved in the community in the way

you suggest but would prefer to be left alone to do the things I do
well and in the area where I can make a special contribution.
Further, to impute progress solely or primarily to cooperative work
is a fallacy. Many of the great ideas and discoveries in the past
were the product of individuals. Who has shaped our thinking in the
past century—Marx, Freud, Darwin, Edison, Ford? Why, so,
emphasize cooperation?
A second critical view is that community organization interferes with

the way people choose, desire, or want to live, and that in many
situations it tends to manipulate ideas and people to secure the
ends of a professional elite. Further, this is all done in the name of
democracy, when it is quite clear that a movement that is
"democratic" and "manipulative" is highly self-contradictory. Thus, a
minister, obviously disturbed by the work of a neighborhood
council, says:
That man came in here (a neighborhood) and got all the people
stirred up about their problems—real and imagined. Before long he
was using the organization to do the things he wanted, raise money
for the Chest, oppose the churches on Sunday sports, etc., and to
make a reputation for himself. The people never wanted this
organization and would be better off without it.

A third strand of criticism implies that however justifiable the
74
community organization process may be in philosophical terms, it is

not practical in a society in which "cultural lag" becomes more
pronounced every day. Change in our way of living must come
quickly, it can be imposed, and people will adjust to the new
objective situation.
Carl Becker in his Progress and Power writes:
Never before have men made relatively greater progress in the

rational control of physical force or relatively less in rational control
of social relations. The fundamental reason for this discrepancy is
clear: it is that forces of nature have been discovered and apphed
by a few exceptional individuals, whereas every effort to ameliorate
human relations has been frustrated by the fact that society cannot
be transformed without the comphance of the untutored masses. ...
It is therefore not enough that a few individuals should have
discovered the advantages to be derived from rational social
arrangements; in addition the masses who compose society must
he persuaded or compelled to adapt their activities to the proposed
changes, and the means of persuasion or compulsion must be
suited to the apprehension of common men.^
In other words, the means for a better social organization are at

hand; to await for their acceptance by "the masses" would be to
wait in vain, for by the time adjustment was made, a whole new set
of problems would confront us. Therefore forceful, if not
compulsory, action must be taken.
Robert Lynd makes a similar point (if we interpret community

organization to be a process of learning or education) when he
says:

There is a widespread tendency to steady ourselves in the face of

the functional inadequacies of our culture by a comforting rehance
upon education. "What we need," we are prone to say, "is to
intensify education; and, as education makes people better-
informed, many of the problems that now beset us will disappear." .
. . But this great faith in gradualness impHes a largely static view of
culture; it assumes what may be called the haystack theory of
social problems, that is, that our culture confronts a fixed quantum
of problems which are being slowly carted away by "progress,"
each load reducing the total awaiting removal.
^ Carl Becker, Progress and Power, Stanford UniversHy Press,

1936, pp. 91-92 (italics supplied).
75
Actually, however, the culture appears to be pihng up problems

faster than the slow horse-and-haywagon process of liberal change
through education and reform is able to dispose of them. . . .
. . . one cannot get an operation performed by setting out to teach

the masses about appendicitis. The same point applies to teaching
ethics and citizenship, and organizing businessmen in clubs
devoted to "service," while the institutional straitjacket is left
essentially unaltered. While all possible improvements in education
and personnel must be pushed for all they are worth, the basic
responsibility remains squarely upon the shoulders of social
science to discover where fundamental changes in the cultiu-al
structure are needed and to blueprint the ways of achieving them.2
This implies that mass man cannot expect to keep up with the
problems with which he is confronted in the modem world, and
must therefore increasingly expect direction from the social scientist
or an elite who acts on the advice of the social scientist.

Further support for the practicality of planned, induced, and forced

change comes from some social psychologists who sharply
question the assumption that social change may be brought about
only through prior changes in the attitudes of individuals. The study
of Desegregation suggests quite a contrary position, and the author
says:
The data reveal that desired changes in the behavior of individuals

and groups can be brought about by a change in the social
situation in which they are required to function. Changes in the
social situation are effected and reinforced by individuals with
authority, prestige, power, and the control over the media of
communication and important areas of life. . . . Lewin, Festinger,
and others have contributed to a newer theoretical understanding of
the nature of social change by emphasizing that there are objective
as well as subjective determinants of such change and by pointing
out that changes in behavior might produce compatible subjective
changes.^
Thus, psychologically speaking, if it appears to the planners, or
2 Robert S. Lynd, Knowledge for What? Princeton University Press,

1948, pp. 23&-237.
■* Kenneth B. Clark, "Some Implications for a Theory of Social

Change," The Journal of Social Issues, Vol. IX, No. 4 (1953), pp.
72-73.
76
scientists, or technicians that certain rapid changes in the

customary ways of Hving are required, that such changes could be
made with some expectation that the changes would be accepted,
and even that appropriate changes in attitude might follow the
objective change. The argument here is directed less at

deprecating the importance of subjective change than at raising

questions of those who tend to rely exclusively on gradualism,
education, and the people themselves developing a movement for
change.
VALXJE ASSUMPTIONS
A simple response to these counterviews would be that community

organization, as it is defined here, does not make cooperation an
ultimate good, does not deny the value of individual effort, does not
insist that all goals can be achieved only in cooperative work.
Similarly, it could be said that the particular conception of
community organization outlined here has no tolerance for
manipulation but is disposed towards "open covenants openly
arrived at." Nor does this interpretation of community organization
imply denial of the validity and value of other approaches to the
solution of the problems of community life (e.g., the need for
planning by social scientists, housing, traflBc, zoning, and other
types of experts) but asserts that the development of
"community" (both geographic and functional), as interpreted here,
is essential if the values implicit in the concept of democracy are to
be maintained. This, however, is not an adequate reply to those
who hold contrary views, and it is necessary therefore to restate
and amplify the basic assumptions on which our conception of
community organization rests and to define that which it specifically
seeks to do.
First, however, we should seek to avoid the confusion of what Max

Weber distinguishes as "preference statements" and "fact
statements." This is the distinction between "what we prefer to see"
and "what is"; between the way "we want to move" and "the only
possible ways to move." Now, it is quite clear that community
organization, as indeed all social work, rests on preferences (as
well as

77
facts). We seek a position or objective we prefer; we value what we

think enhances human dignity. There are no data to prove that this
is "right," "better," "an ultimate good." It is largely a matter of choice
based upon preference for a particular configuration of "goods."
Similarly, many of those who choose other positions or objectives
rest their choice on their own conception of "value" or of "good." In
each case, of course, there is a combination of wisdom,
experiences, and facts, which to the advocates seem to support
their position, but the ultimate position or objective selected is a
matter of choice.
Community organization derives from a unique frame of reference,

the nature of which may now be examined. The framework takes its
special form as a result of (1) a particular value orienta-tation which
stems from traditional religious values which have been expanded
to form the basis of social work philosophy, (2) a particular
conception of the problems confronting modem man in his
community and social life, and (3) certain assumptions that
influence method, which derive in part from the value orientation of,
and in part from experience in, social work. This frame of reference
limits, conditions, and provides the focus for workers in community
organization. What is attempted, what is done, what is valued has
its source in this framework. The adequacy of the community
organization process as a means of dealing with problems of the
modern community, in light of counterviews and criticisms, can
most conveniently be evaluated as one investigates in detail the
nature of its frame of reference. This we now propose to do by
examining the value system, the conception of the problem, and the
broad assumptions about method which constitute this frame of
reference.
The value orientation of community organization (and, indeed, of all

social work) derives from acceptance of certain concepts and facts

as a foundation for work with people. Among these articles of faith
are: the essential dignity and ethical worth of the individual, the
possession by each individual of potentialities and resources for
managing his own life, the importance of freedom
78
to express one's individuality, the great capacity for growth within all
social beings, the right of the individual to those basic physical
necessities (food, shelter, and clothing) witliout which fulfillment of
life is often blocked, the need for the individual to struggle and
strive to improve his own life and environment, the right of the
individual to help in time of need and crisis, the importance of a
social organization for which the individual feels responsible and
which is responsive to individual feeling, the need of a social
climate which encourages individual growth and development, the
right and responsibility of the individual to participate in the affairs
of his community, the practicability of discussion, conference, and
consultation as methods for the solution of individual and social
problems, "self-help" as the essential base of any program of aid,
etc.
These and other similar orientations constitute the "bias" of social

work, condition its goals, and preclude certain types of action felt to
be more useful by its critics. There are some who think of social
work as a science, but it is necessarily value-oriented and is
dedicated to implementation of those goals implicit in the outline
above. Quite definitely and clearly it is a program which seeks to
"influence" and to secure certain "value-laden" ends. It uses the
knowledge and insights provided by social science, but it is not a
social science.
THE COMMUNITY PROBLEM

Given this value orientation, the next step is a general appraisal or

diagnosis of community life to ascertain to what extent these goals
are being secured in the community and what might be done by
social work to further their attainment. Without giving a complete
analysis, the following points may be said to be relevant.
(1) The dominant impetus for change today is technological,*
■* It can be argued that tliis impetus for change is ideological and

that technological development is merely the manifestation of a
particular ideology. We can accept this point of view without
yielding to the temptation of entering into a discussion which would
lead us far from the purpose of this brief summary of some of the
obvious symptoms of our disordered society.
79
is pressing towards increased industrialization and urbanization,

with little consideration of the effects of such movement on social
relations. Technological development is, of course, well advanced
in many of the western countries, but its influence continues in a
dominant position. In less well-developed countries the pressure is
"to catch up," to "move a century in ten years," and one finds, as a
result of both external and internal pressures, acceleration of
movement toward industrialization and use of modem machines
and methods. Behind this movement, of course, is the tense
international situation, the need for the most effective means of
destruction, the need for strong allies, etc., but this merely gives
further stimulation to forces already in operation. The result,
throughout the world, is movement away from traditional patterns of
earning a living, from the traditional farm, village or small-town
community, from a pattern of relatively simple social relationships,
to a situation in which, as the old patterns disappear, there is
confusion, uncertainty, and loss of identity. While the effects of

these trends are more obvious in the United States, the same
picture is to be seen, or is likely to be seen, in other countries
throughout the world. As T. N. Whitehead of the Harvard School of
Business Administration puts it:
Every advance of industry has so far been accompanied by a

corresponding impoverishment in social living. The rise of
organized industry has reduced the importance of other institutions
as integrators of society, without shouldering these functions itself.
And the resulting social instability is so great as to threaten the
industries themselves.^
To which Lynd adds:
It is this structural distortion, with the elements so unequal and out

of balance that the sheer preservation of the going system
becomes a monopolizing preoccupation, that presents one of the
most striking aspects of our culture. To the resulting general sense
of strain may be traced the compulsive overemphasis upon
aggression rather than affectionate mutuality, upon action rather
than upon repose, and upon doing rather than feeling.^
5 Quoted in Lynd, op. cit., p. 70.
6 Ibid.
80
(2) The processes of urbanization have almost destroyed man's

"feehng of belonging" to a community. To Tolstoi's phrase "the
political nonexistent" we might add "social" and say that cities are
heavily populated with "the politically and socially nonexistent." For
here people reside, temporarily, with but sHght acquaintance with
their neighbors, with no knowledge of their community, and with no
sense of participation in its aflFairs. High mobility rates, which seem

to be characteristic of industrial and urban societies, prevent the

"sinking of roots," the establishment of neighborly contacts, the
feeling of belonging. In the year 1950 in the United States it is
reported that 31 million persons moved their places of residence—
that is, one out of every five persons changed his place of
residence in this one year.'^
The past fifty years has seen a rapid increase in urbanization

throughout the world.
The rough generalization may be made that, as the size of a

community grows arithmetically, the need for deliberate (as over
against unplanned, casual) organization that weaves the individual
into the group life increases in something like a geometrical
progression. . . . Citizenship ties are weakening in our urban world
to the point that they are largely neglected by large masses of
people. Neighborhood and community ties are not only optional but
generally growing less strong; and along with them is disappearing
the important network of intimate, informal social controls
traditionally associated with living closely with others.^
(3) The problem of developing and maintaining common or shared

values (the basic ingredient for cohesion) is made vastly more
difficult by industrialization and urbanization. Society, as Maclver
indicates, does not need common rules for everything; and the
limits of incompatibifity of beliefs and values that can exist in
cultures short of disappearance of a meaningful system are, as we
know, rather wide ones. But we also know that without "a set of
■^ Don J. Hager, "Problem of Changing Neighborhoods," Congress

Weekly, Vol. 21, No. 5, p. 5. (February 1, 1954.) sLynd, op. cit., pp.
82-83.
81

common understandings" among the members of society there

would be chaos. As Lindeman indicates, "diversity 'gone wild,'
uncoordinated and divisive, leads to chaos. Difference carries value
only when viewed in the light of probable unity. Where there is no
prospect of functional unity, diversity becomes a liability, not an
asset." ^ The question is how wide and deep do these
understandings need to be? In a useful analysis of the sociology of
Louis Wirth, Richard Bendix points out that Wirth,^° while desiring
to enlarge the sphere of individual freedom, saw the central focus
of sociology as the analysis of consensus. This latter he conceived
as perhaps the central problem of our society, since its attainment
is made increasingly difficult by the forces unleashed in urban
society. In one of his last addresses Wirth referred to the condition
of mass society which militates against that consensus reached by
continued negotiation, persuasion, and compromised^ At another
point Wirth suggested that in modem society "agreement is neither
imposed by coercion nor fixed by custom so as no longer to be
subject to discussion. It is always partial and developing and has
constantly to be won. It results from tlie interpenetration of views
based upon mutual consent and upon feeling as well as thinking
together." ^^ What is being suggested here is that while we have no
answer for the question of how much diversity or how miuch unity
there is to be in the ideal community, forces at present are
dissipating "common values" or "common understandings"; that
persistence of such a trend would lead to a chaotic community; and
that emphasis today, as Wirth implies, can weU be placed on
means of obtaining consensus, for this latter is "always partial and
developing and has constantly to be won." Or as another writer has
said, "Both normative consensus and individual conformity can be
maintained only by incessant effort and active social evaluation." ^'
9 T. V. Smith and Eduard C. Lindeman, TJie Democratic Way of

Life, Mentor Books, 1951, p. 144.

10 Richard Bendix, "Social Theory and Social Action in the

Sociology of Louis Wirth," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. LIX,
No. 6, p. 526 (May, 1954).
" Ibid., p. 529.
12 Ibid., p. 527.
13 Robin M. Williams, Jr., American Society, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.,

1952, p. 353.
82
(4) The tendency for large subgroups to develop cohesion as

separate entities in the community produces social tension,
potentially dangerous in any community. When one finds ethnic or
cultural groups constituting themselves psychological and
sociological islands in the community, one finds not a static
situation but one which inevitably must lead to increased tension
between these groups or a serious attempt at organizing their
interdependence. Robin Williams makes this point when he writes
with characteristic caution:
The possibilities for the smooth functioning of such a "mosaic"

society are not, to say the least, very great in the modem world.
Diverse subcultures have been hnked together through the
extraordinary development of transportation and communication,
occasioning widespread mutual awareness of other groups and
their cultures, as weU as much direct personal contact. This
awareness of differing or similar values and specific patterns of
conduct is rarely a matter of emoUonal neutrality; the presence of
conflicting normative standards is typically not taken in a purely
"factual" way, but on the contrary produces some degree of social
tension. When originally segmental groups interact with others and
begin to lose their closed, quasi-autonomous character, what were

at first conflicts between the standards of different groups tend to

become intrapersonality conflicts for the individual.^*
Increasingly groups will find it diflBcult to live apart, they must by

the force of circumstances interact, and the problem is whether
they can organize this interaction in such a way as will minimize
tension (both group and individual) and increase capacity to
function with some degree of unity in respect to common concerns.
(5) Democracy will weaken, if not perish, unless supporting

institutions are supported and new institutions (to meet new ways of
living) are developed. Democracy implies decentralization and
distribution of power; the kind of unity which supports diversity;
participation in conference and discussion to produce genuine
consensus; the right to be a part, and influence the direction, of the
social life of the community. Sir Oliver Frank suggests that
1-Îbid., pp. 350-351 (italics supplied).
83
democracy is derived from three basic ideas: "the value of the

individual human personality, a real sense of belonging, and the
basic like-mindedness of society which is the root of democratic
life." ^^ As already implied, forces in mass society are tending to
weaken this idea in practice—"the political nonexistent" has no vital
share in the conduct of public affairs. Participation in municipal
affairs in the large cities of North America is consistently meager,
and the separation of the average man from the larger issues of
national and world affairs seems to increase daily. The movement
in almost all major forms of association (e.g., industry, labor unions,
etc.) is toward centralization and amalgamation, and this tends to
decrease the significance of the role of the individual in these
associations. The huge metropolitan centers grow and the
individual continues to shrink. The question of whether such trends

are inevitable, or whether new forms that will provide opportunity for
the practice of democracy will arise, is surely a crucial one for our
day. (6) The barriers that prevent active participation in the direction
of social change inhibit personal development. While there exist in
most urban communities a host of reform agencies and
associations, the fact remains, as many studies have shown, that
only a small percentage of the people in any community participate
in these. These associations have not been able to develop a
structure and frame of reference which is hospitable to large
numbers of the "political nonexistent." And yet to be denied such
opportunities shrinks and limits the horizon of the individual. In
suggesting criteria for mental health, one writer has stated as the
first criterion "active adjustment or attempts at mastering of his
environment, as distinct both from his inability to adjust and from
his indiscriminate adjustment through passive acceptance of
environmental conditions." ^^ Masses of people are frustrated at
this point because they
^5 Quoted in "Management and Human Relations," address by

William Blackie to 9th Annual Congress on Industrial Health,
American Medical Association, Chicago, January 8, 1949.
1*5 Marie Johoda, "Towards a Social Psychology of Mental Health,"

Research Clinic for Human Problems, New York University, 1950,
p. 12.
84
have failed to find an adequate means (method or association)

through which they can express their views with security. And
consistent blocking at this point has resulted, not just in frustration,
but in an apathetic acceptance of this situation as inevitable.
Now the above points constitute facets of a central problem in our

society and in rapidly changing cultures in less-developed

countries. This is the problem of man's loss of his essential human

dignity. For surely man is being overwhelmed by forces of which he
is only dimly aware, which subjugate him to a role of decreasing
importance and present him with problems with which he has no
means to cope. Aspects of this central problem are the difficulty of
full expression of a democratic philosophy and the threats to the
mental health of individual members of societies such as we have
described.
Given the particular value-orientation of social work and the

situation in the community as interpreted here, use of the process
of community organization follows as an inevitable attempt to apply
social work objectives in the community. Were the social miHeu
entirely different, a rather different expression of social work would
undoubtedly appear in the community. But the present conception
of community organization clearly emerges from these two factors,
namely, the values sought and the context in which they are
sought. An interesting question, which we will have to leave to the
student of the sociology of social work, is whether if the social
situation were quite different, the values or the objectives of social
work would not be quite different. Society and the objectives of any
group in society unquestionably interact and influence one another.
And the dominant values sought by social work may arise simply
from a temporary tendency in society to neglect these values. This
may be. It does not detract, however, from our main thesis, which is
that community organization is an attempt to develop and expand
practices which seem to nourish a particular conception of life in a
society all too prone to ignore these values.
85
ASSUMPTIONS REGABDING METHOD
We have attempted to identify values and problems, and have now

to examine the third aspect of our frame of reference, namely, the

assumptions which condition method. Methods may stem from
what is scientifically valid, from what is feasible, from what "one can
get away with," from what one can make work. But if means are to
be consistent with ends, methods must arise from a par-
ticularization of objectives in any setting. Thus case work, group
work, and community organization may have common and basic
objectives, but as problems in a particular setting (with an individual
or with a group or in a community) are dealt with, these objectives
have to be focused, and appropriate means of achieving them have
to be developed. In other words, a particular frame of reference
must be developed for each setting. This frame of reference brings
together certain assumptions that stem from one's general
conception of values and one's analysis of the problem. In the
community setting tlie assumptions which influence method may be
stated as follows:
(1) We assume communities of people can develop capacity to deal

with their own problems. This implies that communities of people,
even those in situations which many people feel hopeless, can
develop attitudes and skills which permit them to work effectively at
the task of shaping their community more adequately to meet their
needs. Angell's study of integration in American cities ^^ suggests
marked differences in the manner in which communities have been
able to mobilize their resources to deal with problems in the
community. This difference is sometimes a matter of chance, but
we assume here that deliberate effort by the lower-ranking cities
could gradually eradicate many of these differences. The progress
made by many neighborhood councils suggests how a whole
neighborhood of depressed people have been able to come to grips
with many of its problems. Many of the councils have
^"^ Robert C. Angell, "The Moral Integration of American Cities,"

American Journal of Sociology, Vol. LVII, No. 1, Part 2 (July 1951),

86
suflFered from lack of skill and capacity to organize, yet a British

observer studying such councils recently in the United States said:
Even where actual local participation by membership in the Council

is at its lowest, pubHc meetings have been held for the discussion
of such topics as housing, sanitation, health, and recreation, and
some degree of interest has been aroused. ... It becomes a factor
in the common daily Hfe of the area. ... (It) may render a very
important service by creating in a depressed minority group in a
"less-chance area" a sense of power and worthwhileness.^^
Even in depressed neighborhoods, people have shown capacity to

function as a unit. In functional communities, such as welfare
communities, the record is quite clear, and where consideration has
been given to development of skill in cooperative work, the
achievements over a period of time have been considerable.
Perhaps a notable example of people's capacity to function e£Fec-

tively as a community comes from Africa, where a British Colonial
oflBcer describes the change in the way of life of one tribe there.
He describes their way of life as he first knew them in the following
way:
Their towns and villages are httle more than fishing setdements
along the sides of the creeks. From May to October, the season of
the rains, the htde dry land there is is almost submerged and aU
the houses there are depressing and dark and squalid, a state of
affairs which has, over a period of years, engendered in the Ilajes a
state of complete lethargy and apathy, so that now the average Ilaji
is interested in doing httle beyond the minimum of work and in
sitting and drinking palm wine and fihcit gin, and in making an
occasional expedition to catch a few fish when he is himgry.

Later this tribe had difficulty with the administrative officer, and was
forced to move to a much less suitable site, but the change-plus a
religious conversion—set them to work at building their new village.
The new life is described by the same, but somewhat surprised.
Colonial officer thus:
18 Elizabeth Handasyde, City or Community, The National Council

of Social Service, Inc., 1949, pp. 48-49.
87
They have organized themselves for working and everyone has his
or her job; one party of women may be trading at a certain market,
where they will go by canoe, taking fish and selling it and buying
other types of food, cloth, salt, or kerosene; others will be cutting
wood for the fish-drying sheds; some are washing clothes, weaving
cloth or dyeing it; some are preparing fish for drying and some are
working in the drying sheds. The men are mostly engaged in fishing
in the sea, for which they have some twenty large canoes. The
children are taken in a hall by one or two of the more educated
Apostles and are taught to read and write and to sing hymns. They
also get their daily task of mending nets or some other petty job. . .
. All the village organization is communal, and is run by a
committee of about ten senior men, who are the trustees of the
church. Those who are married live in their own houses and draw
their food from the central ration store daily and cook it at home; for
the others there is a central cookhouse and the food is drawn
cooked according to the messes of workers. There is a tailors' shop
with some ten Singer treadle-type sewing machines, and anyone
whose clothes are a little worn gets' sent for a new lot. There is also
a separate washing and ironing house, run like a laundry; there is,
too, a carpenter's shop and net-making parties. The really
astonishing thing about all this is the ready and willing manner in
which everyone goes about doing his or her job, which is a

complete antithesis to the other Ilajes. As far as one can see there
is no question of compulsion, merely the fact that they have found
that by hard work they can find satisfaction and a better way of hfe.
Everyone who has gone with me to this village has been
incredulous of the whole thing, thinking that Africans could never
develop on these lines unaided, but it is indubitably a fact that this
has been organized all by themselves, even despite the fact of
there being only some half-dozen who have gone to school, and
none of these has read above Standard V, and, moreover, the
organization is something of which no eflBciency expert should be
ashamed.^^
(2) We assume people want change and can change. The

tendency is to assume that all people are contented with the status
quo, do not want change, and will resist change. But surely the
evidence is not only that communities of people constantly change
their ways of life but are rather consistently interested in "making
^9 C. E. E. B. Simpson, "An African Village Undertakes Community

Development on its Own," Mass Education Bulletin, University of
London Institute of Education, Vol. II, No. 1, pp. 7-9 (December
1950).
88
things a little better." This will to change is often paralyzed by those

social forces which, as Toynbee suggests, present a challenge
which is so overwhelming that retreat is the only possible response.
In such circumstances apathy, indifference, and reliance on the
security of the status quo are inevitable. But our assumption here is
that if such blocks to free thinking and feeling are removed, all
people everywhere will participate in changes which promise to
meet their communal needs more adequately.
This is supported in part by Spicer when he says:

It has become something of a commonplace to say, "People resist

change," but a generalization that has many more facts to support it
is the opposite: "People accept change." The notion that people
tend to resist rather than accept change may be a special idea of
our era, formulated by those who are especially conscious of
cultural differences or by those who are engaged in trying to bring
about change. To the latter, certainly, the fact of resistance is more
striking than acceptance. The truth is, however, that people
everywhere constantly change their ways. Language, domestic
animal breeds, tools, ways of growing crops, methods of curing,
and forms of political organization have changed steadily through
the centuries, not only among Europeans but also among the
Congolese, the Japanese, the Chinese, and all the other peoples of
the earth. No generation seems to behave precisely like a former
generation. Rates of change, comparing one people with another or
one aspect of culture with another, show great differences, but the
outstanding fact of constant change nevertheless remains. ... It
seems possible, for instance, despite our ignorance, to support the
following generalizations: people resist changes that appear to
threaten basic securities; they resist proposed changes they do not
understand; they resist being forced to change.^^
(3) We assume that people should participate in making, adjusting,

or controlling the major changes taking place in their communities.
This is not to suggest that changes cannot take place without
voluntary participation of people. Clearly the opposite is true. Nor is
it assumed that any neighborhood group or welfare council can
control all the forces that impinge on the collective
2" Edward H. Spicer (ed.), Human Problems in Technological

Change, Russell Sage Foundation, New York, 1952, pp. 17-18.
89

lives of these people. Rather it is that people should have an

opportunity to organize to secure their own communal goals and to
plan the adjustments which must be made to changes over which
they have no control, and to regulate as far as possible their own
communities, be they geographic or functional. The need and right
to participate in this way is based on the subassumptions that (1)
man grows and fulfills himself as he participates in the regulation of
his own life, (2) unless man so participates, he becomes entirely
subjected to the whim of forces which leave liim socially and
politically isolated and his life meaningless, and (3) without such
participation, democracy has no life or vitality.
(4) We assume that changes in community living that are self-

imposed or self-developed have a meaning and a permanence that
imposed changes do not have. "Man, in so far as he acts on nature
to change it, changes his own nature," said Hegel. In the
community, people as they define and work towards their goals,
modify and develop attitudes and capacities consistent with these
goals, so that the culture as a whole adjusts to the changes that are
taking place. The dangers of adjustment to rapid and imposed
changes have been persistently emphasized, especially by
anthropologists, who see the intricate web of social organization the
whole of which is affected by change in any part. It is not that such
changes cannot be imposed and made permanent; it is that a
community without any sense of participating in, or conscious
planning of adjusting to, imposed changes, may become
completely disoriented. Margaret Mead writes on this point:
If, in order to use a certain type of machine, it is necessary to adopt

all the attitudes towards punctuality of Western factories and school
systems, absorbing this alien type of education may act selectively
within the new culture, so that only the deviant or only the obedient
and frightened learn, and the gifted and creative may turn away. An
alien technology, supported by forms of education and

interpersonal relations which are also alien, is likely to separate the

practitioner of the new skill from his cultural roots, prevent the new
practice from becoming integrated in the living habits of the mass of
the people, and produce populations who are confused and
disoriented because they do not participate
90
meaningfully in the new forms of their society. We see this

happening every day in workers who emigrate from country to city,
from a peasant to an industrial country, who learn to comply with
the ahen ritual of factory or clinic, but who are themselves lost and
disoriented.^^
(5) We assume that a "holistic approach" can deal successfully

wîth problems with v^hich a "fragmented approach" cannot cope.
This implies that a neighborhood council in changing the character
of its neighborhood can do more to combat delinquency than any
specific program such as recreation; or that a wêlfare council can
do more to solve social problems by developing a coordinated
attack on these than can separate social agencies working apart
from each other. Most of the problems of the community have
multiple roots. A single specialized approach to the problem is often
of limited value. The community's effort to cope with the problem
and/or its roots often creates those changes in attitude necessary
to any successful approach to the problem. Thus the effort to work
cooperatively at the problem in its total setting may be the most
significant step in the solution of the problem.
(6) We assume that democracy requires cooperative participation

and action in the affairs of the community, and that people must
learn the skills which make this possible. Between individuals in the
community there must be active participation in a communication
process which makes possible the identification of common goals

and areas for collective action. Without this, democracy is

threatened.
Since consensus conditions and is the product of the participation

of persons in a common fife, the Hmits of consensus are marked by
the range of effective communication. Consensus may disintegrate
because communication between the individuals and the groups
who are expected to act collectively is reduced to a minimum. As
John Dewey has pointed out, "Everything which bars freedom and
fullness of communication sets up barriers which divide human
beings into sects and cliques, into
21 Margaret Mead (ed.), Cultural Patterns and Technical Change,

UNESCO, Paris, 1953, p. 309.
91
antagonistic sects and factions, and the democratic way of life is

undermined." 22
But such communication is seldom a matter of chance, it requires

motivation and skill to initiate and sustain. Therefore people need
practice and expert help in establishing and maintaining democratic
institutions in the community.
(7) We assume that frequently communities of people need help in

organizing to deal with their needs, just as many individuals require
help in coping with their individual problems. The help required by
communities, as with individuals, may be of many different kinds. It
may be need for refinancing, for advice on road construction, a
program for the school system, recreational program, etc. While all
these may be necessary and desirable, our assumption is that most
communities need help in organizing themselves to cope with the
problems in their midst, so that not all decisions are made by a
small group at city hall or by the representatives of a few agencies

but represent the real desires of the people. Some communities

have been fairly effective in operating without help, but most
communities need help in this respect, and many would function
better if such help were available. In essence, the assumption here
is that while people have resources and capacities, they may often
need professional help in finding ways to mobilize these effectively
in the modern world.
This brief outline of assumptions that impinge on method will

probably suffice to emphasize and supplement other statements of
assumptions throughout the book. And it may suggest the
foundation from which community organization develops its unique
character. Based on values common to social work, it sees these
values thwarted in modem community developments, and seeks
therefore to develop an approach that is as realistic and consistent
as possible with its objectives. It posits, therefore, certain
assumptions which seem to emerge from analysis of its values and
the problems in the community. These assumptions condition the
nature
22 Bendix, loc. cit., p. 526.
92
of community organization, the methods used by the worker in the

field, and the principles applicable in the process. Every step in
procedure—identification of goals, diagnosis of the problem
present, and assumptions regarding what are the resources and
needs available for dealing with this problem in light of goals—must
be constantly reexamined in view of fresh knowledge and new
insights. For all three are interrelated aspects of the foundation
from which community organization emerges. It has a certain value
preference for dealing with the problems of the community. This
preference and the problem it seeks to solve lead to a set of

assumptions aflFect-ing method (which we have attempted to

identify) which constitute a framework or a frame of reference for
community organization and determine its nature and method.
Community organization is, then, a process by which a community
identifies its needs or objectives, orders (or ranks) these needs or
objectives, develops the confidence and will to work at these needs
or objectives, finds the resources (internal and/or external) to deal
with these needs or objectives, takes action in respect to these, and
in so doing extends and develops cooperative and collaborative
attitudes and practices in the community.
LIMITATIONS
We should now be able to return briefly, but with profit, to deal with
some of the contrary views expressed at the beginning of this
chapter. Some of these latter views have already been dealt with,
by implication at least, for it should be apparent that this conception
of community organization is not designed as a cure-all for the
problems of our day, but is an experimental approach, resting on
quite tentative foundations, to deal with special aspects of the
problem of social organization; that it is not a substitute for a
political system, but a supplement to it; that it does not deny the
need for individual differences, for conflicting ideas, for tension with
respect to competing proposals, but claims that without an arena
for the development of some common understandings and agree-
93
ments, individualism and conflict may run wild and social disruption
may ensue. This may be made clearer as we deal briefly with the
critical views more directly.
With respect to the first criticism, it is claimed that too great

emphasis is placed on cooperation, on the gentler values of the
middle class with its desire that "things run smoothly and

peacefully," and the value of group, as against individual, thought

and effort. Such a view ignores the point that on his own, mass
man stands to be completely submerged by complex forces which
he does not understand and over which he has no control. If he is
to have anything to say about his future, he must join with others to
gather the strength necessary to influence in any significant way
the conditions under which he will live now and in the future. In this
very effort he may not only achieve such an influence, but may as
an individual acquire the sense of worthwhileness and develop the
capacities that make him a mature citizen with dignity, rights, and
responsibilities. Without deprecating the value of individuahsm, we
can say with Murphy:
Individualism is so ingrained in our own society that it is impossible

for us to imagine that personality might be at its richest where
group identification is strongly accented, and where people stress
the things they have in common, not their distinctive differences. . .
. There is a place for individuafity even in the sharing of a
homogeneous task.^^
The values of freedom and consensus, of individualism and

community are neither contrary nor separate. But it is easy to stress
freedom of enterprise, freedom to hold property, freedom of
religion, and to forget these are sometimes accompanied with the
isolation, loneliness, squalor, and a sense of ineffectiveness, in
which matters the individual may have little choice. It is widely
recognized that, as Maclver said years ago.
Community is simply common life, and that common life is more or

less adequate as it more or less completely fulfills in a social
harmony the
23 Gardner Murphy, Personality, A Biosocial Approach to Origins

and Structure, Harper & Brothers, 1947, p. 909.

94
needs and personalities of its members, according as it more or

less completely takes up into itself the necessary differences which
individuality implies, so that they become differences within a unity
and not contradictions of that unity . . . socialization and
individuaHsm are two sides of a single process.^^
If our analysis of current social forces is even partially correct, it

permits error, when action is contemplated, in the direction of
communal thinking, for many industrial societies are so highly in-
dividuaHstic that the philosophy "if each before his own door
sweeps, the village will be clean" is dominant. In such a society
freedom runs riot, and the devil takes the hindmost. Again, as Louis
Wirth said: "Without some measure of agreement among the
members of a society, there would be chaos. But without the
freedom of the individual to enter into agreement with other
members of his community, there would be tyranny." ^^ It is our
view that individual freedom is possible only in a community in
which there is also some unity, some consensus, some conception
of common values. These latter are missing in many communities,
and as we have implied, development of common values is an
achievement which has constantly to be won. Therefore, when we
assume that communities must be constantly seeking and
sharpening the area of "common understandings," we are not
assuming diminution of individual freedom, but rather pressing for
one of the conditions which make freedom possible, realistic, and
meaningful.
Further, to stress cooperation does not mean elimination of tension

and conflict, both of which are essential aspects of a dynamic
society. Within the neighborhood council, the welfare council, the
council of churches, the council of manufacturers, there will be the
constant struggle of ideas, of competing programs, of individuals for

recognition. But this struggle will go on within a framework of

common agreement and common purpose. In the larger
community, the struggle between different functional com-
24 R. M. Maclver, Society—Its Structure and Changes, R. Long &

R. R. Smith, Inc., 1933, pp. 167, 214.
25 Bendix, loc. cit., p. 526.
95
munities will be carried on, but as skills in conference and

collaborative work increase, this struggle will be less irrational and
explosive and more considerate of conflicting points of view, more
disposed to seek consensus, and where this latter is not possible,
more tolerant of the rights of both majorities and minorities. As
small towns and urban neighborhood communities learn to work
together in their councils and community associations, and as
functional communities in urban areas learn to collaborate, there
may develop that basic like-mindedness that makes diversity within
unity a reality.
The second strand of criticism is that workers in this field interfere

with communities and their affairs when their help has not been
requested and further, that they manipulate people and events to
secure their own private ends. Now in social case work it is
generally assumed that help cannot profitably be given until the
client is ready and willing to use and accept help. This applies to
community organization with one important modification. To wait
until a highly disorganized neighborhood or a number of
competitive welfare agencies asks for help in developing a
cooperative organization would be to wait in vain. Therefore
community organization seeks to create the awareness of need—of
need, not for external help, but for self-movement. In some cases,
as with individuals, such awareness may not develop in the

community or neighborhood, and there is no possibility of initiating

community organization at the level at which it is being described in
this book. When the sense of need does not arise, the worker in
this field does not press further. But community organization clearly
implies the effort to have people look searchingly at their
communities for common needs and objectives. This may be called
"interference" as long as the term does not imply imposition of
ideas. It is an attempt to motivate people to act if certain conditions
are present—if the people feel no such conditions exist, there is no
basis for action. The disposition of the worker in community
organization is to stimulate people to think and become aware of
their common life.
As to manipulation, it is quite clear that the worker who manipu-
96
lates ideas, people, and events secretly and maliciously does not
operate within the framework outlined in the main body of this
chapter. What the worker seeks to do is to awaken and encourage
local initiative, feelings of responsibility, skill in participation, self-
development, and growth. Interference, beyond that described
above, or manipulation in the sense of secret covenants and use of
others for one's own purpose, is quite contrary to the goals implicit
in the conception of community organization as we have defined it
here.
The third level of criticism is that community organization involves a

slow process, the results of which can be felt only in long terms.
The critics argue tliat problems of "cultural lag" are tumbling over
our heads and smothering us, and that some quicker method is
required. Here we must emphasize again that social work (or one of
its specializations, community organization) is not to be considered
a panacea or a cure-all, or the only way to deal with problems of

the community. It may well be that groups of scientists and/or

groups of expert planners are required to deal with immediate and
long-term problems of restructuring required in mass society. But it
is submitted that this procedure, without such participation as
community organization implies, may speed the loss of values of
belonging. But with such participation, the work of scientists and
experts can be greatly facilitated. That is to say, permitting
imposition of plans by small groups may provide for alleviation of
some problems but increase the tendency toward centralization,
which already endangers individual freedom and moves man even
further away from a sense of control over his own destiny. If,
however, we have a society in which there are large citizens'
groups planning in respect to their community needs (either in
geographic or functional communities), we have a network of
democratic institutions which may be used by the planners for
consultation. Even if they are not so used, these citizen groups may
still constitute a potential force to criticize the work of planners, to
adapt the results of planning to their own circumstances, to
integrate it into their own planning. In England the
97
National Council of Social Service, and in Canada the Canadian

Welfare Council, constitute such communities (in these cases the
welfare communities) which are often consulted by government
planners in respect to welfare measures but which reserve the right
to criticize and mobilize opinion for or against the measures
prepared by the planners. Such procedures seem essential for
preservation of democracy. And while there will undoubtedly need
to be large-scale and technical planning, such planning without the
checks implied by the community organization process may in the
long run prove disastrous.
Actually, it is premature to advocate any one method of work in the

community to the exclusion of all others. There are those who see
the need for revitalization of the political system, or decentralization
of industry, or restructuring of urban life, or development of primary
group life, etc. All these may make a contribution, and each has
specific objectives in mind. A good deal of experimentation is
required before we can state with certainty what methods and
instruments will nourish and sustain those values which a
community of people believe important. But community
organization is a process which, however slow, deserves to be
thoroughly tried and evaluated.
We have already indicated that community organization is not a

science; presumably it is an art—the art of building consensus
within a democratic framework. But this art, if such it can be called,
can utilize many of the contributions of the social sciences, and can
benefit greatly by the kind of disciplined study social sciences can
make of community organization projects. These latter, indeed,
provide a common ground for social workers and social scientists.
As Robert Lynd states:
The central assumption becomes that men want to do, to be, to feel
certain identifiable things ... as they live along together; and the
derivative assumption regarding the role of social science is that its
task is to find out ever more clearly what these things are that
human beings persist in wanting, and how these things can be built
into culture. If man's cravings are ambivalent, if he is but
sporadically rational and
98
intelligent, the task of social science becomes the discovery of what

forms of cultm-ally-structm-ed learned behavior can maximize
opportunities for rational behavior where it appears to be essential
for human well-being, and at the same time provide opportunity for

expression of his deep emotional spontaneities where those, too,

are important.^^
Thus it may be that the social workers and social scientists may
find an area of mutual interest. The former may concentrate on the
practical problem of initiating the community organization process,
the latter in developing instruments for measuring the effect of
social work processes and undertaking such measurements. But
both may cooperate in developing theory, in establishing
experimental and research designs, and in the refinement of
techniques and procedures.
26 Lynd, op. cit., p. 200.
99
Part Two
Factors Impinging on Community Organization Methods
100
101
Some Hypotheses About Community Life
B;
lEFORE we proceed to identification of principles of community

organization and the role of the professional worker in this field, we
shall summarize some hypotheses about community life and about
the process of planning which will help us to establish the
principles. As we have indicated in the previous chapter, we begin
with a frame of reference which provides a guide for community
organization effort. But within this framework, that which is feasible

is determined in considerable degree by the nature of the situation,

the worker's understanding of it, and his skill in working in this
situation. Just as the case worker must know a good deal about
individual psychodynamics and the process of interviewing, so the
worker in community organization must know a good deal about the
forces in the community which make for or hinder community
integration, and about the techniques of planning.
It is at this point that the social sciences could contribute a good

deal to the social worker, for the former provide tested hypotheses
which suggest to the social worker insights and clues which
102
102 COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION: THEORY AND PRINCIPLES
influence the steps he may take in seeking to reach his objectives.

Social science theories are not, of course, the sole determinant of
method, this latter being dependent on the values and assumptions
mentioned in previous chapters. But these two—social science
theory and social work values—serve as the codeterminants of
method. Indeed, the constant modification of social work method is
partly (if not largely) the result of social science research. The
influence is consistent and significant, but the changes are made
within the framework social work has established for itself. In other
words, social workers, like other professionals, are constantly
seeking more effective ways of performing their task, and draw
heavily upon the social sciences for help in this respect.
What we are concerned about in this chapter, then, is an

understanding of some aspects of community life which will help us
in shaping principles and methods of work in community
organization. There are innumerable textbooks on the community,
and it is not our purpose to summarize these here. What we will do
is to indicate briefly some aspects of community life which have

implications for community integration, as we have previously

defined that term. We wish here to provide at least a partial answer
to the question: What do we need to know about the community
which will help those who are concerned about developing a kind of
community life in which people feel a sense of belonging,
participate in the life of the community, achieve a set of common
understandings, and work cooperatively at their common
problems? Again, of necessity the factors we identify will have to be
more in the nature of an illustrative sample than a complete listing,
but they should serve to suggest the variety of factors about which
there must be awareness. While we will deal primarily with
geographic communities, those readers interested primarily in
functional communities will recognize many points which have
significance for their work. Almost everything that is said about
subgroups, leadership, symbols and rituals, apathy, etc. has
relevance not just for the community council or the neighborhood
council but for the
103
recreation council, the adult education council, or the welfare

council.
THE MULTIPLE-FACTOR THEORY
There is no single factor which, by itself, makes for community

integration. The community is a complex whole, all parts of which
are related, interact, and influence one another. To select one part
of this whole and identify it as the primary cause of integration or
disintegration is not possible. Just as we have come to recognize
the fact that there are multiple causes of discrimination,
delinquency, crime, or economic progress, we are led by the weight
of logic and evidence to recognize that we cannot pluck out a single
force or circumstance and attribute the attainment of "maturity" in

the individual or community to that single factor.
Even accepting the "multiple theory" of causation, it is diflBcult to

identify the group of forces which produces community integration.
In his study of "The Moral Integration of American Cities," Angell
writes:
It is one thing to demonstrate that cities are diflFerent with respect

to moral integration; it is quite another to determine what the causal
factors are . . . for cities differ in size, in age, in background of their
population, in the natiiral resources they have available, in mobility,
in history and tradition, in leadership, and in many other respects.
But even if some of these could be identified as significant, . . .
there is the problem of whether a particular feature, even if shown
to be related to moral integration, is cause or effect of that
integration. For instance, it can be argued that the organizations
possessed by a city are influenced by the degree of solidarity of the
community as well as being a cause of that solidarity.^
Thus, in perhaps the most complete study of this matter to date,

there is evidence to suggest both the complexity of causal factors
and the difficulty of identifying them as cause rather than efiFect.
1 Robert C. Angell, "The Moral Integration of American Cities,"

American Journal of Sociologtj, Vol. LVII, No. 1, Part 2 (July 1951).
104
Angell does indicate relationships between "moral integration" and

certain factors tested in the communities in which he carried on his
studies. He does not, as pointed out, suggest these to be cause-
and-effect relationships, but their association or lack of association
may be significant. For example, high mobility rates, a

heterogeneous population, a high crime index, a low welfare index,

a large population, tend to be present in the cities of low moral
integration. On the other hand, economic development, absentee
ownership, church membership, the percentage of Roman
CathoHcs in the total population, and other factors were found not
to be significant factors. The result is, therefore, a few modest
generalizations such as the following: the greater the mixture of
races and nationalities, the more difficult is moral integration; the
economic factor is unimportant for moral integration; mobility scores
increase as the integration scores fall; social problems tend to
multiply, not only absolutely but relatively, with increase in
community size.^
Such generalizations are hardly unexpected and suggest that we

are far from identifying all, or even the major, factors of importance
here. Some of these will emerge as individual studies proceed, and
will later require collating and testing. For example, is physical
distance between neighbors important? To what extent? In what
kinds of communities? A report of one such study indicates:
Perhaps most striking is the way in which friendships and group-

formation within this homogeneous community were determined by
physical distance and functional distance, i.e., positional
relationships and features of design that determine which people
will meet by chance. The units of physical distance which showed
up in the study as important were incredibly small, for example, the
difference between houses 22 feet and 44 feet apart; such physical
and functional distances are shown to play a significant part in the
creation of social isolates.^
It is likely that the many on-going studies in the social sciences will
2 Ibid., pp. 15-21.
3 Isabel Menzies, review of Social Processes in Informal Groups,

by Leon Festinger, Stanley Schachter, and Kurt Black, in Human

Relations, Vol. IV, No. 1, p. 104 (1951).
105
eventually permit testing of hypotheses about community

integration in a variety of communities.
For the moment, however, we have to recognize that while there

are many factors which make for, or prevent, community
integration, we can only generalize loosely about these, and can
say only in specific situations, and after careful study, which forces
are of major importance in a given situation. It seems not
unreasonable to suggest the hypothesis that instead of single
factors, there are clusters of factors that interlock and reinforce one
another and influence the degree of community integration.
Thus an economic system may stimulate great differences in

economic power, competitiveness, special symbols by which status
is recognized, rigid class and caste structure, a particular kind of
educational system, etc. But the economic system is in turn
influenced by these same factors; indeed, it is difficult to separate
these from the economic system. All these aspects of community
life are inextricably linked together, and while a change in one
aspect will affect other aspects, the reaction to change in one area
may well be resistance, rather than adaptation, in other areas. The
assumption of the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, for example, that ff
collective farms were enforced, people would soon adapt their
customs and habits to the collective Me, has proved quite
unfounded, and in both countries participation in collective farms is
now largely voluntary.*
The problem of identifying forces which make for community

integration is one of considerable complexity. While we will in the
pages to follow suggest certain factors which appear to be

significant, it must not be forgotten that we cannot with assurance

state that these factors are fundamental in all situations. Nor should
it be forgotten that these factors have only partial significance when
taken singly: it is this group of factors, together with others, that
influences community integration.
*Jack Raymond, "Tito's Peasants Signal a Right Turn," 'New York

Times Magazine, August 15, 1954, p. 15; Harry Schwartz, "Soviet
Heeds Malthus as well as Karl Marx," New York Times, Sunday,
September 20, 1953, p. 4E.
106
SOCIAL STRUCTURE
The social structure of a community is undoubtedly positively

related to the degree of integration existing or possible in the
community. It is easy to see the marked differences in the social
structure of the small cooperative village in Israel and that of an
American industrial city, and the differences in attitude and
behavior which seem to stem from the differences in organization
and orientation of these two communities. Similarly, obvious
differences can be seen between the "company town" in which
almost all the employment, housing, and work are provided by one
industry and the cooperative fishing village where each owns a
share of the fishing ship and the cannery, or the highly competitive
industrial town, and the old New England town in which kinship
relations predominate. Each of these is structured differentiy with
somewhat different value systems, customs and mores, and degree
of integration.
But even in towns and cities that appear similar, as Angell has
shown, there are significant differences in integration, and some of

these differences may well stem from unique (but hardly

distinguishable) social structures. An interesting example of the
different effects produced by social structure (in community
response to identical stimuli) is given in an analysis of activity in two
towns of about the same size, and within fifty miles of each other, in
southwestern United States. The study reported a number of similar
projects initiated in these two towns, and a description is given of
the development in each town. The consistency of the action within
each of the two towns is high, and the following description of a
street-paving project may be considered typical:
The streets of Rimrock were in bad repair in the faU of 1950. That
summer a construction company had brought much large
equipment into the area to build and gravel a section of a state
highway which runs through the village. Before this company left,
taking its equipment with it, villagers, again acting through the
Church organization, decided that the village shoiild avail itself of
the opportunity and have the town's
107
Streets graveled. This was discussed in the Sunday priesthood

meeting and announced at the Sunday sacrament meeting. A
meeting was called for Monday evening, and each household was
asked to send a representative. The meeting was well attended,
and although not every family had a member present, practically all
were represented at least by proxy. There was considerable
discussion, and it was finally decided to pay 800 dollars for the job,
which meant a 20-dollar donation from each family. The local trader
paid a larger amount, and, within a few days after the meeting, the
total amount was collected. Only one villager raised objections to
the proceedings. Although he was a man of importance locally, he
was soon silenced by a much poorer man who invoked Mormon
values of progress and cooperation and pledged to give 25 dollars,

which was 5 dollars above the norm.^
The report of action in the adjoining tow^n of Homestead reads as

follow^s:
During the winter of 1949-50 the construction company which was

building the highway through Rimrock was also building a small
section of highway north of Homestead. The construction company
offered to gravel the streets of Homestead center if the residents
who lived in the village would cooperatively contribute enough
funds for the purpose. This community plan was rejected by the
homesteaders, and an alternative plan was followed. Each of the
operators of several of the service institutions—including the two
stores, the bar, and the post office— independently hired the
construction company truck drivers to haul a few loads of gravel to
be placed in front of his own place of business, which still left the
rest of the village streets a sea of mud in rainy weather.*'
In a number of other problems reported, the reaction is similar: the

town of Rimrock meeting to discuss the matter finds in conference
a method of cooperatively dealing with the problem, while the town
of Homestead, a few miles distant, finds cooperative decision, let
alone cooperative action, extremely difficult to secure. Why do such
profound differences exist between two adjoining towns which, on
the surface, appear similar?
5 Evon Z. Vogt and Thomas F. O'Dea, "A Comparative Study of the

Role of Values in Social Action in Two Southwestern Communities,"
American Sociological Review, Vol. 18, No. 6, p. 649 (December,
1953).
6 Ibid., p. 650.
108

What is important is the causes of this marked difference in

community action in Rimrock and Homestead. The authors
describe it thus:
The stress upon community cooperation in Rimrock contrasts

markedly with the stress upon individual independence found in
Homestead. This contrast is one of emphasis, for individual
initiative is important in Rimrock, especially in family farming and
cattle raising, whereas cooperative activity does occur in
Homestead. In Rimrock, however, the expectations are such that
one must show his fellows or at least convince himself that he has
good cause for not committing his time and resources to community
efforts, while in Homestead cooperative action takes place only
after certainty has been reached that the claims of other individuals
upon one's time and resources are legitimate. Rimrock was a
cooperative venture from the start, and very early the irrigation
company, a mutual nonprofit corporation chartered under state law,
emerged from the early water association informally developed
around—and in a sense within— the Church. In all situations which
transcend the capacities of individual famihes or family
combinations, Rimrock Mormons have recourse to cooperative
techniques. . , .
The value-stress upon individual independence of action has deep

roots in the history of the homesteader group. The homesteaders
were part of the westward migration from the hill country of the
Southern Appalachians to the Panhandle country of Texas and
Oklahoma and from there to the Southwest and CaHfomia.
Throughout their historical experience there has been an emphasis
upon a rough and ready self-rehance and individuahsm, the
Jacksonianism of the frontier West. The move to western New
Mexico from the South Plains was made predominantly by isolated

nuclear famihes, and Homestead became a community of

scattered, individually owned farmsteads—a geographical situation
and a settlement pattern which reinforced the stress upon
individuahsm.''
The differences in the patterns of behavior and the social

organization in these two communities derive from quite different
systems of beliefs and values, and these differences have been
structured in such a way that the character of each is quite distinct
from the other.
What is important for us here is not simply the idea that com-
109
munities are structured differently. For the practitioner in community

organization it must also be recognized that this difference in social
structure conditions to some extent the degree of social integration,
the nature of the response of the community to any community
problem, and the manner and pace it will deal with such a problem.
Like the educator who adapts himself to the need, level, and
capacity of a student, the worker in the community must not only
recognize differences in social structure but must adapt his
methods to these differences.
It may be pointed out here, also, that the social structure of a

community constitutes a whole, and that change in any one part of
the structure reacts on all other parts. The writer recalls, for
example, the efforts toward church union in his home town. The
attempt was made to bring two relatively similar Protestant groups
into one church. These seemingly like-minded. God-fearing, and
friendly people fought with great heat and bitterness over this issue.
What was not recognized was that these separate churches
supported a good many other aspects of the social structure, such
as class structure, historical and national associations, clerical

interests, certain "in-group" traditions, etc. The issue was fought on

purely theological grounds, but it was quite clear that the churches
as separate entities were such, not simply for theological reasons,
but also because the separate bodies incorporated many other
facets of life about which the members were largely unaware but
which were as important as the differences in theology, if not more
important. Wilson makes this point when he suggests that
integrative processes in the community may be immobilized or
blocked because "unrecognized mechanisms in group life . . . resist
change. Such resistance may be strong, persistent, and completely
inconsistent with the manifest goals and striving of groups." * This
suggests the intricacies of the social structure and the difficulty of
analyzing all the parts, and relationships between parts, which may
facilitate or block any proposed change in the community. It
^ A. T. M. Wilson, "Some Aspects of Social Process," The Journal

of Social Jssues, Supplement Series No. 5, p. 22 (November,
1951).
110
implies also the importance of the people of the community being

involved in planning major changes, for they will feel, even though
they may not be able to verbalize it well, what changes are
desirable, feasible, and at what cost they may be secured. And if
the community itself is thoroughly involved in a process of change,
the change will take place in the whole community and not just in
one part.
Margaret Mead emphasizes the complexity of the problem in the

following:
... as an individual's behaviour, belief, and attitudes are shared with

members of his cultural group, it may be necessary to eflFect a

change in the goals or systems of behaviour of the whole group
before any given individual's behaviour will change in some
particular respect. . . . No knowledge of the way an individual of a
given constitution and capacity may be able to accept or reject
change can ever be used alone, without giving due weight to the
nature of the culture of which he is a part, and his position in the
particular social group within which he lives.^
All this is to emphasize the fact that all communities are structured
uniquely, although the differences may be small in some instances;
that the parts of these structures are closely related, and change in
one part affects other parts; that the relationship between parts of a
culture is often difficult to recognize and identify; and that planning
in respect to change in any part of the community must consider its
effect on the whole community.
SOCIOCULTURAL PATTERNS
In every community, certain traditional ways of behaving develop

which determine to some extent whether the people will participate
actively and cooperatively in community affairs, and determine
almost competely the manner in which they will cooperate or resist.
This has been implied above but requires some amplification.
9 Margaret Mead (ed.), Cultural Patterns and Technical Change,

111
A recent report on Greece points out that Greeks are "bom into a
group," to which group they are tremendously loyal. Further, they
are used to cooperating with members of this group and, at great
personal sacrifice, will carry out group projects that have meaning
for the group. But the government seeking cooperation for large

impersonal objectives finds resistance to its ideas.
It (the government) tries to put this cooperation on a par with war,

both in the title of its bi-weekly publication, and in the phrasing of its
admonition. But the disrupting centralization, the hated interference,
remains. "Compulsory free labour" is demanded of the farmers, and
there is a whole class of compulsory cooperatives for the
betterment of the villages. These are circumvented with the
ingenuity born of long experience. However, we also have a recent
report of a village where everyone gets up when the church bell
rings at four in the morning, to work, without compulsion, on some
village project, with pride and enthusiasm. The work is done under
the leadership of a villager respected for his ability and
disinterestedness. It appears that when the cooperative pattern
which is already present is utilized, the villagers will work together
for the common welfare.^°
Most communities have practices which determine which groups

will cooperate with certain other groups, on what kind of project,
and in what particular way. The writer recalls one community in
which almost every project initiated by a community council
received full support from every church but the Anglican. At first
glance it appeared to be merely the resistance of the Anglican
clergyman, but on closer study it was evident that the Anglicans
were an exclusive upper-class group who traditionally remained
aloof and were particularly suspicious of the Roman Catholic
church. In fact, the wise men of the community would say, "This is
the way it has always been; if the Roman Catholics come in, the
Anglicans stay out." In other communities it will be other churches,
other classes, and other groups who will be disposed to stay apart.
But most communities have their own peculiar ways of operating,
their own conception of what is a "right and proper" method of
10 Ibid., pp. 111-114.

112
procedure, and their own feelings as to what is a proper pace for

movement,
A recent analysis of committee behavior in four cultiu-es is

instructive at this point." This study shows quite different
responsibilities assumed by the chairmen and by committee
members and rather different ways of conducting business in
committee in China, the United States, the Near East, and South
America. What is less easy to recognize is that some differences
also exist within the United States and Canada among different
groups of people. There is a general impression among progressive
educators, for example, that the permissive chairman is the most
acceptable chairman. Actually some recent studies have shown
that some groups expect more direction from the chairman and are
uncomfortable with a permissive leader.^^
An interesting illustration of cultural influences on behavior in

community projects is the degree to which people in most large
North American cities act "the congenial, good-hearted guy" on
community committees. Often, even on matters on which they have
strong contrary feeling, they will support a motion or action simply
because "I can't afford not to," "It doesn't look good," "It's going to
pass anyway and why should I stick my neck out." One realizes that
for many such men this is part of a larger game of getting on in the
community, making a good impression, offending no one, building
up one's personal reputation. This is consistent with Ries-man's
observation that business and professional Iffe and play have
become extensively fused in American society.^^ Activities formerly
sharply isolated from work, such as entertainment, have become
part of business relations. Aspects of the personality, such as

pleas-ingness or likability, formerly regarded as irrelevant to work

efficiency, have been increasingly called into play in working life.
11 John Gyr, "Analysis of Committee Member Behavior in Four

Cultures," Human Relations, Vol. IV, No. 2, pp. 194-195 (1951).
12 Leonard Berkowitz, "Sharing Leadership in Small Decision-

Making Groups," The Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology,
Vol. 48, No. 2 (April 1953).
113
The tendency in this culture is to ask in all situations: Did they like
me? Did I make a good impression? Am I doing as well as I
should?
Another tendency, pointed out in Wolfenstein's article on "The

Emergence of Fun Morality," is the current American conviction that
life ought to be fun and the resulting efforts that are made to make
it so.
Not having fun is not merely an occasion for regret but involves a
loss of self-esteem. I ask myself: What is wrong with me that I am
not having fun? To admit that one did not have fun when one was
expected to, arouses feeUngs of shame. Where formerly it might
have been thought that a young woman who went out a great deal
might be doing wrong, currentiy we would wonder what is wrong
with a girl who is not going out. Fun and play have assumed a new
obligatory aspect. While gratification of forbidden impulses
traditionally aroused guilt, failure to have fun currendy occasions
lowered self-esteem. One is apt to feel inadequate, impotent, and
also unwanted. One fears the pity of one's contemporaries rather
than, as formerly, possible condemnation by moral authorities.^^
These are, of course, merely illustrative of the multipHcity of forces

which emerge from, and play upon, the community, influencing the
behavior of individuals, relations between individuals, relations
between groups, and patterns of behavior in committee,
conference, and community life. All these condition a process such
as community organization, and constitute social facts which the
professional worker must understand and be prepared to cope with.
SUBGROUP RELATIONSHIPS
Subgroups, and the relationship between subgroups, are probably

factors which strongly influence community integration. If, for
example, one finds in a community a Protestant group whose
marked cohesiveness is primarily an aspect of their opposition and
hostility to the Roman Catholic group in the same community, there
i-* Martha Wolfenstein, "The Emergence of Fun Morality," The

Journal of Social Issues, Vol. VII, No. 4, p. 22 (1951).
114
is a subgroup configuration which makes community integration

very difficult, as does also a subcultural pattern which supports
"di£Ferences" at the expense of "similarities" or which accentuates
competitiveness as opposed to cooperation.
It seems likely that physical proximity or coexistence does not, in

itself, determine integration or the lack of it. One finds a Polish
group in one community isolated and separate from much of the life
in the larger community, while in another city the Pohsh group may
live in a particular area, have their own churches and clubs, yet are
identified and associated with the life and social organization of the
city. If one may assume that coexistence does not in itself make for
greater mutual acceptability of subgroups, is it possible to identify

factors which do make for greater acceptance, for greater

cooperation, for a social climate which supports cooperative
attitudes? There is some evidence here to suggest tentative
hypotheses at this point.
Eisenstadt's work on immigrant groups in Israel ^^ is useful here.

His study sought to identify the conditions required to be present if
a new immigrant group is to adjust to, and identify with, the larger
community of which it is now a part. There are three major factors,
apparently, diat influence such adjustment. One is internal —within
the subgroup. Immigrants who were members of highly cohesive
groups (kinship, ethnic, neighborhood, etc.) tended to be more
flexible, more disposed to identify with the whole community, more
likely to participate in community affairs. This is quite contrary to the
usual assumption that strong subgroups make for "in-groups" which
develop and maintain their solidarity in opposition to other
community groups. Rather, it suggests a theory (plausible from the
theory of individual psychology) that the secure and well integrated
may have less fear of the "outside world" and more freedom to
venture into it than the insecure. If this were so, it would, of course,
suggest that the community organization process
^5 S. N. Eisenstadt, "The Process of Absorption of New Immigrants

in Israel," Human Relations, Vol. V, No. 3, pp. 223-245 (1952).
115
would flourish best in communities in which there were few weak

and many strong subgroups.
A second factor, which will not be reported at length here, relates to

the attitudes and practices of government administrative officers
who deal with the new groups. Consistency of explanation, of
promise, of discipHne are factors of importance. Close personal
relations, such as the ability and willingness of the oflBcer to

identify with the group, to share their problems and their conditions
of living, to provide friendliness, are characteristic of government
personnel who seemed to facilitate adjustment to, and identification
with, the new community.
The third condition of adjustment of the part to the whole—the

subgroup to the community—is a group of factors which may be
met in varying degrees but of which it may be said that the greater
the degree of fulfillment of these conditions the greater degree of
community integration. These are:
DEVELOPMENT OF GROUP VALUES AND ASPIRATIONS

COMPATIBLE WITH THE COMMON VALUES IN THE
COMMUNITY
This implies that the group or subculture will develop values not
inconsistent with those prevalent in the community of which it is a
part. Thus the Dukhobors, or even the Mennonite group, seldom
integrate in Canadian communities because their conception of
what is "right, proper, and good" in respect to education, tlie
meaning of community and nationhood, the use of money, differs
radically from the ideas of the majority of the people in Canada.
Pronounced and doctrinal differences on fundamental issues may
be permitted, and subgroups allowed to flourish, but these
differences present a substantial block to the development of
community integration. A subgroup, however, whose beliefs and
practices (with respect to matters of prime importance in the larger
community) are not inconsistent with those of the community will,
other things being equal, facilitate community integration.
116
EXTENSION OF THE SCOPE OF ACTIVITIES FROM WITHIN

THE GROUP EXCLUSIVELY, TO INCLUDE VARIOUS

COMMUNITY-WÎDE ACTIVITIES
That is, there will be more opportunity for development of

cooperative work if members of a subgroup begin to participate in
the activities of the larger community. Activities here may cover a
considerable range from reading the local newspaper, listening to
local radio programs, to taking part in war-bond drives, salvage
collection, clearing areas for playgrounds, etc. Various groups may
have their own newspapers, carry on their own activities with little
reference to other groups in the community. To the extent that they
operate in this way—isolated and exclusive—to that extent will
development of the community organization process be difficult.
There must be some communication between the group and the
community, and it is being suggested here that participation by
members of various groups in community activities is one way in
which such communication may be made meaningful.
THE EXTENT TO WHICH MEMRERS OF SUBGROUPS ARE

ORIENTED TOWARDS "reference groups" in THE WIDER
COMMUNITY AND THE DEGREE TO V7HICH THESE
"REFERENCE GROUPS" ACCEPT THESE MEMBERS OF
SUBGROUPS
A simple example of this is the desire, or lack of desire, of Negro

doctors to be members of, and participate in the affairs of, the local
medical association; and of equal importance, the desire, or lack of
desire, of the local medical association (who, we are assuming, are
mostly white) to have these Negro doctors as members. If Negro
doctors are oriented in the direction of participation, and if the
medical association wants and welcomes them, this, it is being
suggested, facilitates integration of the whole Negro group into the
community. But if the Negro doctors do not want to belong or if the
medical association does not want them, a block to community

integration is being set up. This point is one that is often overlooked
in community affairs and one hears frequently the
117
dominant groups in session say, "Those Poles (or any minority

group) live by themselves, they won't take part in anything." What
Eisenstadt is suggesting is that not only must the minority groups
want to participate, but the other groups in the community must
also want them and be willing to accept them.
THE EXTENT OF DEVELOPMENT OF RELATIONSHIPS OF

SUBGROUP MEMBERS WITH "older prestige" MEMBERS OF
THE COMMUNITY
In every community there is probably a special kind of elite-older

citizens whose age and status mark them out as symbols of
importance in the community. To be denied any contact or
association with such persons handicaps community integration;
and development of such contacts and relationships may facilitate
this process. The tours of British monarchs to various
Commonwealth countries undoubtedly is arranged by the British
government to stimulate integration in the British Commonwealth of
Nations.
THE EXTENT TO WHICH THE LARGER COMMUNITY PERMITS

FULFILLMENT OF THE ROLE EXPECTATIONS AND
ASPIRATIONS OF SUBGROUPS
There are many implications of this concept; let us take one

example. Here is a small Jewish group in a largely Gentile
community. The former are conscious of their community
responsibilities, are aware of the contribution they can make to the
larger community, and are anxious to participate in the community
chest, the welfare council, the community concert series, etc. Their

role-expectations and aspirations are such that they see several of

the Jewish group playing a leading role in these endeavors.
Presumably the conditions—in the form of these organizations—are
present for utilizing the ambitions and services of this group. But if
there is resistance by present members of the controlling groups in
these organizations to the participation of Jewish people, there will
be frustration and withdrawal, unless these aspirations can be
fulfilled in another way, e.g., by service on subcommittees, by
service in
118
Other organizations, etc. Or the ambitions of the Jewish group may

be modified to the extent that they see themselves concentrating
their effort in one organization, and later giving help to the other
organizations. Thus if the aspirations of a group are utilized or
modified (without rejection), there exist more favorable conditions
for integration than might otherwise be the case.
THE EXTENT OF IDENTIFICATION \VITH THE LARGER

COMMUNITY
This point has already been implied in several others above. But it
needs to be said that identification exclusively with the subgroup
will prevent integration, whereas identification with the "common
life" of the community will facilitate integration.
It appears, therefore, that coexistence of subgroups does not by

itself necessarily make for better relations between these groups.
Apparently development of cooperative relations between
subgroups depends upon a series of complex factors in which the
attitudes and behavior of members of all groups—within the group
and with respect to other groups—are decisive.^^

LEADERSHIP
Community and subgroup leaders appear to play an important role

in determining the degree of community integration. AngeU in his
study, to which reference has already been made, found leadership
to be an important factor in moral integration. In his conclusion he
writes:
According to our findings, an optimal leadership group would be: (1)

Composed of weU-educated persons; (2) Composed of those
whose original involvement in community affairs sprang from their
own interest, the involvement of their friends, or the nature of their
profession; (3) Widely representative of socioeconomic groups
within the city; (4) Made up in somewhat equal proportions of those
who were bom in the city, those who were born elsewhere but have
Hved in the community a long
119
time, and those who have hved in the community a decade or so;
(5) Composed of those who have had enough contacts with other
segments of the population to enable them to understand their
points of view (social realism); (6) Marked by congeniality but not
"cliquishness"; (7) Composed of those who realize the importance
of effort and informal organization in overcoming public apathy
toward community problems.^'^
These generalizations Angell believes to be not just plausible

hypotheses but fairly reliable principles. It is at this point that he
feels most secure about his findings. While some of his results
must be considered tentative, he states:
With respect to leadership, our knowledge is fuller. A city would be

well advised, according to our findings, not to depend on a few,
overburdened leaders, but to develop a large but cooperative

leadership group, continually recruited from the well-educated

younger persons in various occupational and ethnic segments of
the population who have close contacts with problem situations and
strong motivation to improve them.^^
Most workers in the community field would accept these

generalizations as both safe and feasible, yet would wish the
analysis to proceed further. Is the generalization to select from
"various occupational and ethnic segments" adequate? Does this
mean all segments of the community or just some of the segments?
And in selecting from these segments, does one choose only "the
well-educated younger persons" irrespective of whether these
persons have a position of leadership, are accepted and trusted by
this segment of the community? These questions are of
considerable importance, yet the above generalizations provide
little help in securing adequate answers.
It seems reasonable to suppose, however, that the "segments" or

groups to be included in a community association will be dependent
upon the size and character of the community. In a large urban
community with a relatively small Jewish population, one subgroup
may be the Jewish community, but in another city in which the
17 Angell, loc. cit., pp. 108-109.
18 Ibid., p. 122.
120
Jewish population is much greater relative to the whole population,

one subgroup may be the Orthodox Jews, another subgroup the
Reformed Jews, and so on. Similarly in one community, labor may
be represented through the larger unions but in others it may be

represented by members of neighborhood groups which include

both union and nonunion workers from many different fields. In
many small communities, especially in less-developed countries,
there is not the same fabrication of group life. There will, however,
be segments often based on kinship groups, sometimes informal
grouping around friends, leaders, or "central figures." While little
definitive information is available here, it at least suggests the
necessity of careful study of the social organization of the
community if the "segments" or subgroups to be involved in
community affairs are to be identified.
As to who will be selected from these subgroups to take a position

of leadership in the community, it must be clear that a good deal
depends upon the purpose for which they are to be selected. If the
purpose is to initiate a community playground or library, perhaps,
as Angell suggests, the "well-educated younger men" can
accomplish this as efficiently and effectively as any group. But if we
are concerned (as we are in community organization) with bringing
the major subgroups together in the community to identify, and take
action with respect to, common needs and objectives, then arbitrary
selection of educated young men can hardly be considered
adequate. For the end postulated is not simply achievement of a
project (like a playground or library) but initiation and development
of a process which brings diverse elements in the community
together. The association of well-educated younger persons from
various segments of the community may simply be the organization
of a group of "like-minded persons" who, however well they perform
their task, may do nothing to further integration in the community.
Community organization must be concerned not only with an

adequate identification of group life in the community, but with
identification of those leaders whose participation in community
activity will encourage the involvement and participation of other

121
members of the group of which they are the leaders. In most

groups we will find both informal and formal leaders. The latter are
leaders who hold their positions by virtue of some office such as
teacher, priest, judge, the president of a business, the mayor.
Informal leaders are leaders by virtue of the fact that some
individuals or some group look upon them as persons upon whom
"one can count,'* "whose opinions must be respected," "who can
help you when you are in a jam." Informal leaders depend on a
"following" for their status, while formal leaders may have prestige
without a close loyal following. Both types of leaders, of course,
wield an influence; the attitudes of both are important in moving
subgroups into closer contact with the larger community.
Eisenstadt's work ^^ is again instructive at this point. His studies

indicate that the leader's influence in relating his group positively to
the whole community is dependent upon the leader's own positive
identification with his group. If the leader finds his group related to
(not blocking) his own mobility aspirations, if the leader accepts and
can live comfortably with his group, and if in turn he is accepted by
his group—given these conditions, the leader's positive influence
towards community integration may be considerable. This type of
leader, whom Eisenstadt calls the "positively identified leader," may
not only help to develop cohesion within his group but may also
help to "integrate the group in the larger community."
The "negatively identified leader" who finds, or feels, his own

aspirations are being blocked or modified by association with his
group, whose identification with his group is weak, who in turn is
not an object of identification by the group and may even be
rejected by them—this type of leader not only adversely affects
group cohesion, but even if he tries to move the group into the
wider community, is usually unsuccessful. The "negatively identified

leader" is often a "marginal man," not really belonging to any

subgroup, for he is attempting to move away from one group and
into a group with greater status. Such leaders, because their
^^ S. N. Eisenstadt, "Social Mobility, Group Cohesion and

Solidarity," unpublished paper, Jerusalem, 1954.
122
mobility aspirations stimulate them to move around in the

community, are often noted by other subgroups as "the natural
leader of Group X that we need in this community council." Actually,
the implication of Eisenstadt's study is that such leaders are a
hindrance to the community organization process.
Angell has provided us with some safe assumptions about

leadership in the community. Beyond this our findings must be
tentative, but it appears that those concerned with community
integration must be aware of the complex social organization of the
community, be able to identify the major subgroups in the
community, and must discover the "positively identified leaders" of
these subgroups.
SYMBOLS AND RITUALS
Community-wide symbols, values, institutions, celebrations, etc. are

a stimulus to community integration. Alexander Leighton ^° has
indicated that all people everywhere have systems of beHef which
influence their behavior and which are in part: (1) logical, i.e., based
on experience and reason, (2) cultural, i.e., based on the pressure
of other people's opinions, and (3) personal—emotional, i.e.,
serving to satisfy the aspirations and allay the fears of the
individual. The most deeply ingrained and unchangeable beliefs, he

asserts, are predominantly those rooted in the two last mentioned.
There is a tendency to believe that development of community life

is the product of experience and reason applied to this particular
problem. But while one may wish to increase the area in which
rational decisions are made and work toward this end, it would be
fallacious to ignore the reality of the situation in which cultural and
emotional factors play such an important part. These latter are
often the prime determinants of whether people will relate to the
community or not. In a somewhat diflFerent context, Margaret Mead
has written:
Over and over again we see that attempts to remedy such

conditions
20 Alexander H. Leighton, Human Relations in a Changing World;

Observations on the Use of the Social Sciences, E. P. Button &
Co., Inc., 1949.
123
chiefly by knowledge and logic (as seen by the agents of change)

fail. Those failures can be better understood if it is recognized that
explanation and logical interpretation alone are often ineffective in
changing behaviour because their application is blocked by the
emotional satisfaction which the individual achieves through his
present mode of life. The new knowledge can be put to use only as
the old behaviours, beliefs and attitudes are unlearned and the
appropriate new behaviours, beliefs and attitudes are learned.^^
This suggests not only the importance of subgroup symbols and

rituals, which may constitute a substantial block to community
integration, but also, and of more importance at this point, of
community-wide values, symbols, institutions, and rituals with which
all groups may identify, which provide a common emotional

experience, and which serve as integrative forces in the

community. There is, of course, a great range of such forces. There
is the local baseball team, symphony orchestra, the old and trusted
leader, the newspaper, radio station, and the "local character."
There are also common ideas, which, however inadequate if judged
by common definition, do serve as cohesive forces. The "American
way of life," the "Christian tiadition," "British justice," and other such
phrases apparently are meaningful and real to many people and
serve, as Myrdal has pointed out, as common objectives. There are
local events and celebrations—the centennial celebration, the
community festival, the opening of the new subway, the Santa
Glaus parade, etc., which seem to provide some opportunity for the
expression of a "common interest."
But it is assumed here, as well, that if the major subgroups of a

community can come together to identify and deal with common
problems, this process may produce symbols and rituals that have
meaning and possibilities for integration. Thus the Red Feather, the
sign of the Community Chest campaign, can become such a
symbol in the community, although often it represents only some of
the segments of community life. The annual cleanup day of a
neighborhood council, the opening of a new village school, the folk
21 Mead (ed.), op. cit., p. 292.
124
festival of a community council, etc., possess potentialities for

providing expression of deep feelings in which all in the community
share.
APATHY AND PREJUDICE

Traditional practices of apathy, prejudice, and discrimination

present obstacles to a process leading to community integration. A
community in which apathy prevails in respect to community affairs,
or in which prejudice and discrimination are customarily directed at
minority groups, is Hkely to be a community with a low level of
integration and one in which these attitudes and practices
constitute forces which resist any tendency to develop active
cooperation around common projects with all parts of the
community involved.
The causes of apathy are complex and undoubtedly vary from

situation to situation. Social structure undoubtedly influences the
degree of interest in the community; the "company town" is likely to
be more apathetic than a town of homeowners; a series of
unsuccessful efforts to carry out community projects may cause
withdrawal and resistance to further participation; high mobility
rates probably decrease interest and participation in the affairs of
the community. Merton has pointed out, in this connection, the
importance of goals and means of obtaining goals in a given social
structure. If goals are not clear, or if goals are clear but
achievement of them is limited to a few, or if goals are clear but
means of obtaining them are ill-defined, a society becomes
relatively unstable; dissatisfaction, apathy, and lack of participation
may result.^^ One may find in such situations what is often called
"mass apathy."
Riesman and Glazer, in an analysis of poHtical participation, review

the many historical, socioeconomic, class, and regional factors
which are related to political interest or apathy. One of their
observations, of special interest here, is that the complexity
22 Robert K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure, The Free

Press, 1949.

125
and incomprehensibility of twentieth-century political activities so

obscures the individual's self-interest that "self-interest, in its variety
of traditional meanings, will not sulBce to justify, from the
standpoint of the individual, his concern with politics today." ^^
Mussen and Wyszynski in a study of personality and political

participation report:
Stated very generally, our findings lead us to conclude that political

apathy and activity are specific manifestations of more deep-lying,
and pervasive passive and active orientations. Thus, one of the
outstanding characteristics of the politically active individual is his
attempt to understand himself, i.e., his awareness, examination,
and acceptance of his own emotions, conflicts, and feelings,
including feelings of inadequacy and inferiority. He is concerned
with ego-satisfying personal experiences and emotional and
intellectual expression rather than with conventional values and
general social standards. His social consciousness and orientation
are apparent in his emphasis on love-giving and social contribution,
his respect for the rights and feelings of others, and his admiration
for social scientists and liberal political leaders.
The politically apathetic individual, on the other hand, seems to be

generally passive, dissatisfied and generally threatened. Although
he gives evidence that he is fundamentally hostile, he cannot
accept his hostile impulses. Instead he appears to be completely
submissive and unchallenging to authority, rigid, and incapable of
enjoying deep emotional experiences. . . . Conformity with social
conventions, refusal to become aware of deep feelings, and
submissiveness may all be devices which aid the apathetic
individual to cope with basic insecurities in what he sees as a
threatening environment.^*

It is evident even from these brief references to theory and

research in this area that the causes of apathy are manifold, and
probably combine to produce different degrees of both individual
and community apathy. Similarly in the case of prejudice, a variety
of causal factors have been identified ranging from historical forces
23 David Riesman and Nathan Glazer, "Criteria for Political

Apathy," in Alvin W. Gouldner (ed.), Studies in Leadership, Harper
& Brothers, 1950, pp. 505-559.
24 Paul H. Mussen and Anne B. Wyszynski, "Personahty and

PoHtical Participation," Human Relations, Vol. V, No. 1, p. 80
(1952).
126
to individual psychology. As in the case of apathy, a good deal of

attention has recently been given to the psychic factors which
produce prejudice and hostility in the individual. Bettelheim and
Janowitz, in their study of this phenomenon,^^ found some support
for their four main hypotheses that (1) hostility towards out-groups
is a function of a hostile individual's feeling that he has suffered
deprivations in the past; (2) this hostility is also a function of the
individual's anxiety about his future; (3) the individual blames the
out-groups for past failures and future fears, projecting undesirable
characteristics in himself onto the out-group, this behavior being
indicative of a lack of ego strength and of inadequate internal
controls; (4) ethnic intolerance is related more to the individual's
movement within society than to his position at a particular moment
of the investigation.
Apparently, there are deep psychological needs which some people

meet by being apathetic or hostile and prejudiced towards others. It

seems reasonable to assume that when the social climate makes

the expression of these dispositions safe and acceptable, they will
become more pronounced than in a community where such
expressions of feeling are frowned upon. Further, the development
of community feeling for or against these attitudes will determine to
a considerable extent whether they spread, i.e., whether apathy or
prejudice becomes a standard to which one conforms or whether
such attitudes are repressed by the weight of community norms.
Marie Jahoda ^® reports on a British study of young factory
workers who moved as a group from a school in which the main
values were intelligence, industi-iousness, respect for the teachers
and older people in general. This group of schoolgirls in which
these characteristics seemed to be fully accepted and practiced,
moved to a factory where "intelligence was useless, hard work
frowned upon by one's colleagues, and respect for age out of
place." A few weeks after the schoolgirls had made this transition
"they had adapted
25 Bruno Bettelheim and Morris Janowitz, The Dynamics of

Prejudice, Harper & Brothers, 1950.
26 Marie Jahoda, "Some Socio-Psychological Problems of Factory

Life," British Journal of Psychology, January, 1942.
127
completely to the new set of norms." While not all adaptation is so

dramatic as this, there are numerous illustrations of the way in
which community pressures encourage or repress specific
individual and social traits.
The problems of apathy and prejudice, it is clear, are complex, and

require treatment at a variety of levels. The relevant question here
is how the worker can deal with these at the community level?
Obviously in the community in which these attitudes are acceptable

and approved, the process of change in the community will be long

and arduous. But as change begins, as apathy and/or prejudice
become less acceptable, the social climate will be less favorable to
these attitudes, new satisfactions may be developed and found in
cooperative work, and a gradual change in community rates of
apathy and prejudice may occur. But it is quite clear that a
community approach will not eradicate those feehngs which have
deep psychological roots. The intensely hostile individual will
inevitably find a scapegoat. Experience has indicated that the
"climate" in respect to these matters can change in the community,
that fewer people will be apathetic or hostile, that more people will
repress prejudice, that expressions of apathy and hostihty may be
reduced, that individuals and groups may learn to work together in
a relatively congenial atmosphere but that there will remain a "hard
core" of withdrawn, hostile, and insecure individuals who will
change only with therapeutic help. But change in the community as
a whole, meager though it may be, may effect a change in the
social climate, which may affect the second generation who may
develop with less apathy and fewer prejudices, and the process of
change in long terms may have a profound effect on the character
of community life.
INDIVIDUAL'S PREDISPOSITION
The disposition of the individual to participate in community affairs

is dependent upon a wide variety of factors, a few of which have
relevance here.
128
Angell has performed a useful service by reporting the tendencies

of different segments in the community to participate. On the basis
of repHes to the general question, "Do you feel you are doing as

much for the community as you want to, or should you be taking a
more active part?" an order of replies was developed, values were
assigned, averages taken, and index numbers given to each group
of replies. Significant differences were found in respect to: (1) age,
e.g., "the moral order of a community is shared more completely by
middle-aged people than by any other group"; (2) income, e.g.,
"families with higher incomes participate more fully in community
affairs"; (3) occupation—"those in higher occupations definitely do
participate more" although here it should be noted that the index
figure for Unskilled and Service (1.55) is much lower than for
Skilled and Semiskilled (2.56) and for White-Collar workers (3.20);
(4) schooHng—the higher grades attained, the more participation;
(5) voting—"it is striking that nonvoting is strongly linked with lack of

interest in other kinds of community participation"; (6) nationality—
the foreign-born feel a greater obligation and desire to participate
than the native-bom; (7) race—"it is evident that Negroes want to
carry their share of community responsibiHty and are even more
inclined to participation than are the whites"; (8) length of
residence—"evidently the more deeply one is rooted in a
community, the more one participates in its affairs." ^'^
In addition to these tendencies, it is possible to offer certain other

rough generalizations in respect to community participation.
THE STATUS IMAGE WHICH AN INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPS FOR

HIMSELF
Eisenstadt distinguishes between those with flexible status image

and those with a ritual status image. The former, he suggests, have
three major orientations: (1) attainment of various personal goals,
(2) attainment of cultural goals, and (3) attainment of cohesive
primary group relations of mutual affection and response. The indi-

27 Angell, loc. cit., pp. 9S-100.
129
vidual with a ritual status image tends to focus on certain goals and
amenities such as money, job, and type of home. Eisenstadt finds
that:
Those with ritual status images could not distinguish very much
between the attainment of the various types of goals and social
relations. The attainment of social solidarity is, for them,
conditioned by the attainment of a specific type of instrumental
goals and pattern of fife. Hence, they cannot differentiate to any
large extent between various reference groups, finding within each
one the satisfaction of a particular type of goal, but focus all their
aspirations on one undifiêrentiated field with which they identify
their overall status aspirations. . . . On the basis of this analysis, it
can be postulated that those with ritual status image tend to choose
their reference groups and standards in such a way as to maximize
overall disintegrative tendencies . . . while those with open status
image tend to choose their reference group so as to spread out the
risks between different types of disintegrative behavior and to
maximize the possibilities of adjustment within the social system.^^
TIME PERSPECTIVE
If an individual sees himself as a permanent member of a

community, all other things being equal, he will tend to be more
identified and involved, than if he sees himself as merely living in
the community temporarily. This, of course, has been implied in the
discussion of mobility, but the emphasis here is on future
perspective, i.e., the individual's conception of his future in the
community. In industry it has been suggested that the worker who
looks forward to spending the rest of his working life in a particular
firm is more disposed to participate in solving problems arising in

his work than the worker who sees himself moving in the near
future to another firm or industry.^'' This, it is suggested here, may
be equally applicable in community affairs, and indeed Angell's
darta seem to support this point.
28 S. N. Eisenstadt, "Reference Group Behavior and Social

Integration," American Sociological Review, Vol. 19, No. 2, pp. 180-
181 (April, 1954).
29 David Ketchum, Annual Address, Canadian Psychological

Association, Canadian Journal of Psychology, 1951.
130
130 COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION; THEORY AND PRINCIPLES

BECOGNITION
The degree of recognition the individual receives for his

participation in community projects apparently influences the
degree of his satisfaction in these projects, his attitudes to these
and other projects, and his disposition to participate in other
community projects. This phenomenon has been mentioned by
several social scientists (Kleinberg, Williams, Mead) ^° as a fairly
safe generahza-tion. It seems reasonable that a person who
secures recognition that provides him with real satisfaction in
community activity will be favorably disposed to such activity and
have a tendency to continue or to engage in other similar activities.
The difficulty is, as Angell points out, that too few persons in the
community have such opportunities for satisfaction, with the result
that leadership and participation become concentrated in a few
hands,
FRAME OF REFERENCE
If the individual's own frame of reference excludes all but his own

group or subculture, his tendency to move outside this group is

thereby lessened. The individual whose sole aspirations are limited
to his own group resists participation in the community, whereas
the individual whose aspirations are broader is much more
disposed to venture forth from the group and into the life of the
larger community.
BACKGROUND
Childhood experiences (in the home, school, gang, neighborhood)

which encouraged active participation in the life of the group or
community seem to dispose the individual to greater participation in
community activities than the individual who has
20 Otto Kleinberg, Tensions Affecting International Understanding,

Social Science Research Council, New York, 1950; Robin M.
Williams, The Reduction of Inter-Group Tensions, Social Science
Research Council, New York, 1947; Mead (ed.), op. cit.
131
not had such experiences. Several studies of children who attended

progressive schools in which participation was encouraged seem to
suggest that a disposition to take part in school and community
aflFairs tends to carry over into university life,^^ and one may
postulate the hypothesis that it probably carries over into post-
university life.
The identification of these generalizations suggests the variety of

factors, in addition to others mentioned in this chapter, which may
determine the extent, nature, and scope of the individual's
participation in community activities.
We have outlined here some illustrative material on community life

which forms a background for workers in community organization

and conditions the principles and methods they use. As indicated at

the beginning of the chapter, it was not our purpose to develop a
comprehensive picture of community life, but to select a few factors
which serve to illustrate the worker's dependence on an
understanding of the dynamics of community life, if he is to work
with some degree of perspective, understanding, and competence
at his task.
31 R. Freeman Butts, A Cultural History of Education, McGraw-Hill

Book Company, Inc., 1947, pp. 649-650.
132
Some Aspects of Planninj
PREREQUISITES TO PLANNING
w.
E HAVE suggested that the two fundamental and interrelated

processes in community organization are planning and community
integration. We have identified some aspects of community life that
impinge on community integration, and we turn now to the concept
and nature of planning. Here we face considerable diBSculty. For
while a great deal of planning goes on in every sphere of life, and
while plans are produced in the thousands by groups, communities,
and nations, there has not been the systematic and careful study of
planning as a process that there has been, for example, of
procedures and behavior in groups and communities. It has been
claimed by some that rigid rules cannot be laid down for planning,
that planning always begins with a set of circumstances (in terms of
people, stage of development, nature of the problem, etc.) which
vary greatly from situation to situation, and that the "clean slate"
assumed by many planners never has existed, and never will
exist.^

It is possible to accept this latter point of view, yet to postulate
1 David E. Lilienthal, T.V.A.—Democracy on the March, Pocket

Books, Inc., p. 213.
133
certain hypotheses about planning which may have relevance in all

situations. Every individual seen by the psychiatrists is different,
each individual presents a problem the roots of which constitute a
configuration quite unlike that of any other person, each requires
different treatment and a different kind of help. Yet the psychiatrist
has a specific set of hypotheses which influences the way he deals
with all patients and provides a consistent guide for his work.
Similarly we are assuming here that there are certain basic ideas in
planning which, although their application and usefulness will vary
from one situation to another, provide a consistent guide for
planners. In other words, it is possible to have a conception of the
nature of planning and the steps by which it proceeds, without
being bound in all circumstances by rigid procedures.
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
Certain generalizations, however elementary, have wide application

and usefulness. For example, we would suggest that one must plan
for planning. This is not a play on words but the essence of what
has been implied about flexibility in planning. One does not begin to
follow route-like certain steps in planning in a given situation, but
rather one begins with some appraisal of the situation: some
estimate is made of where one begins, with what objectives, with
what resources, with what limiting conditions, etc. Thus one
generalization would be that planning begins with consideration of
what the situation is; how much planning is desirable, necessary,
feasible; what plan for planning is most useful.

However, even if one grants that certain useful generalizations may

be made, one confronts the fact that most such generalizations, at
present, rest on widely divergent experiences which have not been
compared, tested, or carefully evaluated. Interest has tended to
center on either the plan (i.e., the product of planning) or the human
factors involved in planning (i.e., the variety of human conditions
which must be considered if planning is to take place), and little
attention has been given to planning as a whole process.
134
That such study needs to be undertaken can hardly be doubted.

But we must be content here with identifying those stages in
planning now commonly accepted as necessary, and to leave to
others, or to another time, exploration of more basic data in this
area.
Two points may be made in preface to an elaboration of steps in

community planning.
Planning, as it is conceived here, represents the whole act, from

the stirring of consciousness about a problem to the action taken to
resolve that problem. Planning is not, therefore, merely
development of a "solution"; it is development of a solution relative
to a given problem in a given social milieu, and active application of
that solution. Viewed in this way, planning is focused on active
resolution of a problem, and means are adjusted not to the end of
developing a plan (a "paper solution") but to attainment of the
objective (resolution of the problem). This rather different
conception of ends implies, as indicated, a difference in means.
Throughout the process there is less concern about "the ideal plan"
than with a plan that is applicable, that is feasible, that will be
supported. The "dusty plan stored away in the files" is the subject of

scorn by many so-called practical people. Actually such plans-

conceptions of things as they "might be"—have more value than is
often imputed to them, for they constitute the insight of the expert
and the dreamer and set long-term goals that are often less
unrealistic than the "practical people" imagine. Surely there is a
place for such planning—and one would hope that some of it would
find expression in the community planning we are discussing. But,
essentially, here we are concerned with "action planning"—planning
which leads to action in respect to a problem. For this reason some
of the steps to be taken, some of the people to be involved, and
some of the considerations allowed to condition the solution differ
from those present when action in respect to a problem is hoped
for, but the possibility of such action is not permitted to affect the
purity of the plan.
A secondary preliminary consideration relates to the motivation for

planning. For some, and this may be particularly true of the
dreamers
135
or the planning experts, a general experimental attitude or an

image of potentiality may be the dominant motivation for planning.^
But the primary motivation for planning as we conceive it here is
sensitivity to, awareness of, disturbance about a problem. Such
differentiation of motives into discrete units is probably not feasible,
since motives are usually multiple and interlocked. But the
dominant motives in action planning should, we suggest, stem from
dissatisfaction with conditions as they now exist and with a desire
to change these conditions. A neat dilemma confronts us here. The
planning process, which is often a long and tiresome one, we are
suggesting should be initiated, nourished, and sustained by a real
sense of need for change in respect to a particular problem
situation. If such feelings about the problem do not exist, the matter

can easily be referred to a subcommittee, and no one is much

disturbed if the matter is not heard of again. On the other hand,
however, people with strong feelings about a problem often want
"immediate action" and are impatient with the necessarily slow
steps in planning. It is essential in community planning to find some
way of sustaining the feeling of need for change while working
through the many aspects of action planning.
This latter establishes another condition for successful planning. A

group feeling keenly about a problem will not be able to go through
the long, diflBcult, and often frustrating experience of planning in
respect to this problem if the group does not have good morale.
The common feeling about the problem gives considerable impetus
to working together, but there must be suflBcient group strength
and capacity to withstand the many difficulties involved. Once
having achieved this strength and capacity, however, morale in the
group may rise even higher. Thus high morale contributes to, and in
turn is strengthened by, successful planning.
Elliott Jaques, in his classic study, The Changing Culture of a

Factory, develops a somewhat similar theme when he writes:
- Rensis Likert and Ronald Lippitt, "The Utilization of Social

Science," Research Methods in the Bcliavioral Sciences, Leon
Festinger and Daniel Katz (eds.), The Dryden Press, Inc., 1953.
136
Two interrelated factors are necessary in any successful process of

working-through of group problems. . . . The necessaries are a
group with a problem severe and painful enough for its members to
wish to do something about it; but also of a sufficient cohesion of
purpose, or morale, to render them capable of tackling it and of

seeking and tolerating necessary changes. It is this combination of

pain and morale that induces understanding acceptance of the
illumination of difficulties unconsciously concealed because too
devastating to admit; but it is only the giving of genuine
understanding of such difficulties that permits resolution of the
underlying stresses and their symptoms.^
Now^ it is obvious from this that Jaques is oriented in the field of

psychiatry; but he is not writing here about group therapy in a
mental health clinic, but of committees and councils of industrial
workers charged with developing plans and policies for a factory.
True, considerable weight is given to the need for self-
understanding and awareness of unconscious forces operating in
groups before they can successfully work their way through difficult
problems, but this merely implies a level of operation which most
would admit to be desirable, but feel not feasible, in many
community situations. But the basic points emphasized, and arrived
at independently, deserve careful consideration. Jaques uses the
word "pain" as a prerequisite to effective group planning, probably
in the way that psychiatrists use the concept of pain as a necessary
condition of per-sonahty change. Undoubtedly he considers pain as
a condition of fundamental change in the nature and character of
the group. We are, perhaps, less concerned here with such
fundamental change, yet subscribe to the conviction that such
deep-seated feeling may frequently be necessary to sustain the
planning process. This will vary with the situation, some problems
being relatively unimportant and not demanding much involvement.
Yet it is being suggested here that the most significant opportunity
for successful action planning arises around those problems about
which the planning group feel greatly disturbed—about which they
are deeply con-
3 Elliott Jaques, M.D., The Changing Culture of a Factory,

Tavistock Publications, Ltd., 1951, p. 310.

137
vinced, about which they feel "something must be done." The "pain"
felt may only occasionally be comparable to the "pain" of the
emotionally disturbed, but we suggest as a tentative hypothesis that
it is the most powerful motivating force for action planning.
Lest the reader be misled into an impression that we are, in this

chapter, dealing with community organization process, it is
necessary to emphasize again that we are here discussing
planning, and that community organization and planning are not
identical processes. Indeed, there are presented in this chapter
ideas and illustrations which cannot be accepted by community
organization workers without some modification. The broad
principles of planning are, of course, of value, but in community
organization these must be merged with principles relating to
community integration. The way planners take action on their plan,
for example, is conditioned in community organization by
considerations of community involvement in, identification with, and
disposition to support fully, the plan. While principles of community
organization derive in part from that which has been said about the
community and that which is being said about planning, they are
not entirely dependent on these data, but also upon the values and
assumptions previously identified. The material in this chapter,
then, is relevant to, but not the sole determinant of, community
organization principles.
With this word of caution, we wish now to identify what appear to be

rather widely accepted "steps in planning" and to discuss these
briefly. These steps are: (1) definition of the problem; (2) study of
the nature, meaning, and implications of the problem; (3) decision
regarding ultimate solutions; and (4) action on the solution agreed
upon.

DEFINITION OF THE PROBLEM
The first stage in planning is development of a clear definition of the

problem with which the group is concerned. Elementary as this may
appear to be, it is of vital importance and is frequently neglected.
138
At a recent meeting of a neighborhood council which the writer

attended, a woman rose to speak with considerable feeling about
the deterioration of the neighborhood. Her feeling was apparently
shared by others in the meeting, it was decided the matter should
be investigated, and a committee was appointed to study the
problem: "What can be done to prevent deterioration of the
neighborhood?" In the discussion leading to the motion, it was
obvious, however, that there were a number of conceptions of this
problem: one person was thinking of the dilapidated condition of the
houses, another of the messy condition of the streets, another of
what appeared to be the spread of delinquency, another of the
number of "dives" appearing in the neighborhood, another of the
character of the officials appointed by the neighborhood. In an
informal discussion after the meeting it turned out that what the
original speaker was most concerned about, and this was evidently
shared by some of the others, was the movement of Negroes into
the neighborhood. But this latter conception of the problem was
never once mentioned at the meeting. This presents an interesting
example of a practice too frequently found in committees and
councils. It is conceivable here that the committee appointed might
define and proceed to work on a problem quite different from that
which represented the real concern of the group present.
Either because of fear, semantics, or inability to articulate in-

telHgibly, the problem is never clearly stated, and planning

proceeds on some basis other than that desired. This implies the
need for a chairman, an individual member, or a subgroup to spend
some time attempting to formulate and articulate clearly the precise
meaning of the problem. Most planners agree that time given to
formulating and reformulating the statement of the problem brings
adequate rewards in the sense that work is focused on that which is
of real concern to the group.
To cite another example, we turn to the chairman of the budget

committee of a Community Chest who is disturbed about the low
fees charged by agencies who are members of the Chest. He feels
these fees could be increased considerably and that there should
be
139
a much more consistent fee policy for Chest agencies. The matter
is discussed and a committee is appointed "to study the fee policies
of Chest agencies and to recommend suitable action." Now the
discussion revealed a variety of views as to the nature of the
problem: (1) the budget chairman felt agencies were leaning too
heavily on the Chest, that the Chest was reaching its maximum
income, and some agencies must anticipate a cut in their budget
allocation which, however, they could meet by an increase of fees;
(2) most of those present felt it unusual that there should be such
inconsistencies in fee policies as reported and agreed that it would
be useful to study the matter; (3) several agency representatives
felt that in addition to receiving an increased allocation from the
Chest, which most agencies had requested, some agencies might
get additional income from higher fees. The committee appointed
studied the fee policies of Chest agencies, reported that they were
indeed inconsistent, but that since such policies were a matter for
individual agency decision, each agency board should be asked to
study the matter in light of the facts gathered by the committee. The

report was adopted but no one felt stimulated or happy about the
matter. Part of the reason for this weak planning effort was, of
course, that such concern as existed was not clearly focused, and
therefore the group never became conscious of the real issue or
deeply disturbed about the matter. Like hundreds of other problems
that come before such groups it was disposed of with great
inefficiency, and waste of time and effort. Actually there was here a
problem of great moment to all: there was not enough money to
provide the services considered essential. Some felt the Chest
should raise more money; some felt the agencies could raise more
by increasing their fees; others felt both could be done. But the
heart of the Chest operation was the need to secure enough money
to provide the services necessary. All were concerned with this
issue. Failure to solve it meant bickering, conflict, loss of morale.
Instead of facing the central problem of how much money was
really needed and how it could be provided in the present situation,
the problem was introduced in partial form, watered down and
somewhat distorted, and dealt with without
140
enthusiasm or conviction. No significant change resulted except

perhap a decrease in morale in the whole organization. This is but
one more illustration of the need to clarify the problem before
laimching into other phases of planning.
IMPLICATIONS OF THE PROBLEM
The second phase of planning requires exploration of the nature,

meaning, scope, and implications of the problem. Even if the
problem has been weU defined, there is the often difficult task of
seeing the problem in all its manifestations and relationships. If the
neighborhood coimcil mentioned earlier was concerned, not with

Negro infiltration but with all aspects of deterioration, they would

begin to see how complex a problem had been selected. For they
would be studying housing, street clearing, child training; attitudes
and other social forces that permit deterioration of a neighborhood;
city ordinances that affect housing, garbage collection, taverns; the
after-school programs of agencies and public playgrounds in the
neighborhood, etc. The problem is therefore one of some
dimensions, requires to be organized in appropriate sections, and
appropriate personnel assigned to each part of the whole.
But what is soon recognized is that most such problems are larger
in scope than at first realized; that they impinge upon, and in turn
are influenced by, many other problems. This is the point at which a
planning group must face a dilemma of sorts. To ignore the
manifold relationships of this problem to many others is to be
unrealistic and to tackle a part of a problem which can be treated
only as a whole. But to deal with all relationships and implications
would be to begin an endless task which could never be completed
with the resources available. Therefore, while the problem must be
seen as completely as possible, judgments must be made as to
what precisely will be the facets of the problem with which the
planning group wiU concern itself. For example, a community group
may become concerned with juvenile delinquency. They will (unless
they subscribe to the single-factor theory and proceed to deal with
141
one factor) find at least five aspects of this problem: (1) the quality
and the strength of family life in the community; (2) the resources
required by all children, i.e., adequate food, shelter, clothing,
education, recreation, leadership, church programs; (3) the services
available to children who are particularly vulnerable to behavior
problems, e.g., those whose mothers work, whose fathers are in
prison, etc.; (4) the harmful influences in the community, e.g., the

"dives," vice dens, gambling dens; (5) the treatment services

available for problem and delinquent children. Pursuit of all facets
of this problem may well take the council into such matters as
consideration of the adequacy of an economic system that does not
provide a twelve-month wage for all, the requirements for the
selection of teachers and the kind of training teachers require, the
reasons that seem to produce corruption in civic government, and
many other complex problems. The planning group may simply
become overwhelmed as they pursue some of these matters to
ultimate questions. Therefore some refinement, delineation, and
focusing of the problem is required. What is it we are primarily
disturbed about? How much of this problem can we reasonably
tackle? Who could or should be dealing with other aspects of the
problem? How can we do our part, yet press for more adequate
consideration of other parts of the problem? These and other
questions require study and decisions at this point in the planning
process.
It is here that two relevant considerations may arise. These may, it

should be emphasized, come up before this point is reached, after
it has passed, or may arise afresh at many stages in the process
and be relevant at each point. These considerations have to do with
use of experts or research personnel and involvement of other
people in the community in the planning process.
Experts or research personnel may be useful in helping to delimit

the problem, sharing experiences as to what occurred in other
similar situations, in gathering data in respect to the problem, or in
formulating the problem so that research is possible. Likert and
Lippitt describe a number of ways in which the research personnel
142

and planning group can share their concerns so that their meeting
can be mutually helpful.* Obviously each needs to try to understand
the thinking and orientation of the other, and to find common
ground. The meeting at which the planning group describes its
problem in detail with the research personnel listening, with the
latter trying to break these questions down and reformulate them
for scientific analysis, has proven useful. But occasionally the
opposite process is followed: the research team outlines research
projects similar to the central interest of the planning group and the
latter then attempt to indicate the similarity of their problems to
some of the research programs.
While it is obvious that technical experts and research personnel

can make an important contribution to the planning group, some
real dangers may reside in this relationship. At many points,
certainly in dealing with a complex problem, the planning group
may feel frustrated and balHed. Certain experts and research
persons may appear to be so calm, knowledgeable, and confident
that they will be permitted to define the problem or "take over" the
direction of the work. On the whole, it seems indicated that the
planning group must be the group to determine the course of their
work; that experts may advise, suggest, and recommend, but that
their role is a subordinate one; and that responsibility for
determining direction must lie with the group who must eventually
take appropriate action in respect to the problem. In slightly
difPerent context Jaques makes this point:
How the T-group leader forms his task-policy is a matter of

considerable importance for group relationships in his command.
On some aspects he will receive advice from outside. . . . but it is
just becoming accepted at Glacier (Metal Works) that such outside
advice can only be a recommendation, and that it is entirely up to
the manager concerned whether he follows it. So long as he is held
responsible for the task assigned to him he must be given the

authority to carry it out in his own way. . . . It is only on this

condition that a manager is in a position to take on the
responsibility of building good teamwork, whether he proceeds by
setting
* Likert and Lippitt, loc. cit.
143
his local policy by himself, or reaches it through two-way discussion

with his subordinates.^
The common assertion here is that a group or individual

responsible for continuing action in a particular operation should not
have responsibility for direction of the operation taken over by
experts or research personnel. The importance of this relates to
morale, feelings of responsibility, motivation for action. If the group
relinquishes the responsibility for the major direction of the
operation, they relinquish some of their sense of responsibility,
some of their feeling of need to act in respect to the problem, some
aspects of their status as leaders in this particular operation.
It should be added here that the control of the main direction of the
planning process does not necessarily mean assuming
responsibility for, or participating in, all aspects of the project. Lewin
® and others have emphasized the importance of involving persons
in each stage of decision making in the planning process. His
studies seem to suggest, at points, that only when individuals are
deeply involved in planning procedures will adequate and
supportable action ensue. Involvement in all stages of the process
which produces a specific recommendation apparently leads to
identification with the recommendation and a disposition to
implement this recommendation. Some have interpreted this to
mean that all must be involved in actually gathering data, in sitting
in on all meetings, in being part of all decisions made. These latter

practices, which lead to an incredible mismanagement of time and

manpower in some welfare councils, human relations clinics, and
university faculties, have little to vahdate them. No studies have
been made of the number of people who have withdrawn (either
physically or psychologically) because they did not have the time,
energy, or disposition to follow the minutiae of detail involved in
such a
sjaques, op. cit., pp. 286-287.
6 Kurt Lewin, "Group Decision and Social Change," Readings in

Social Psychology, T. M. Newcomb and E. L. Hartley (eds.), Henry
Holt & Company, Inc., 1947, pp. 330-344; Resolving Social
Conflicts, Gertrud Weiss Lewin (ed.). Harper & Brothers, 1948.
144
process, but it is suggested here that carrying the principle of

involvement to its ultimate end (as some organizations do) leads to
a loss of interest, eflBciency, and morale. The task seems to be
that of applying the principle of involvement wisely. This would
suggest that responsibiHty for the direction of the process lies with
the planning group, who may sanction authority for small task
groups and research teams to proceed with work on various
aspects of the problem. These latter would report back with data
and recommendations which would be used, as the planning group
see fit, in developing its policy and plan of action. What is
fundamental is that the planning group assume and maintain
responsibility for the whole project but that they be able to delegate
authority to others and to use wisely the products of the work of
their subgroups.
The second major consideration here has to do with addition of

other people in the community to the planning group. This is usually

done for one of two reasons: (1) the planning group feels the need
for people who know a good deal about the subject and would
strengthen the committee or planning group by virtue of their
familiarity with the subject; or (2) the planning group sees ahead
the need for action and feels the desirability of involving prestige
figures, persons likely to be affected by their plan of action, persons
whose support will "count in this particular area," etc., so that when
the time for action comes, resistance will be partially overcome and
considerable support will be ensured. These reasons are
infrequently articulated, often confused, and their impHcations are
seldom recognized. If expert help is required, some of the
questions previously raised have relevance here. While the
knowledge of experts may be valuable, it will be useful only if
accompanied with an ability to control a probable bias; a capacity to
sit through a process which will be slow enough to permit the
layman to master the problem and all its implications; an ability to
tolerate the expression of "crack-pot" ideas; and a firm reluctance to
"take over" the planning group's responsibility. It may be that a
wiser use of persons with technical knowledge would be as con-
145
sultants at certain points in the process, or as members of a task

force or a subcommittee to accomplish a certain part of the total
job.
Involvement of community people so that support for the plan may

be developed is quite a different matter. Here one must weigh
against the importance of this support the implications of what
Selznick calls "cooptation" and defines as "the process of absorbing
new elements into the leadership or poHcy determining structure of
an organization as a means of averting threats to its stability or
existence." ^ This is a common, and perhaps essential, practice in

an organization dependent upon the support of the public for its

existence. But it has its costs and these must be noted. For the
"new elements"—the power figures and the vested interest
figures—bring to the planning group their own conception of the
problem, their own problems and purposes. These modify, often in
a profound way, the structure, policy, and plans of the organization.
A few years ago, a local neighborhood council planning for more

adequate recreation facilities for their children, and seeing the need
of using the neighborhood school for evening activity, and
recognizing the need for support for these efforts, invited the local
school principal to become a member of their council. When use of
the schools for adults came up, the principal gave in great detail
reasons why such a project was not practicable, and far from
getting support in appearing before the Board of Education on this
matter, the council felt they could not make such an appearance
because of the division within their ranks. This is, of course, an
unusual example, but it serves to emphasize some of the
implications of cooptation. More often the planning process is
modified to the extent that the plan produced is "acceptable." The
advocates of such involvement agree, with considerable
justification, that it is better to deal with such opposition as may
arise in face-to-face contacts within the planning group than to
produce a plan which will be met with overwhelming opposition
when the time for action arises. Nonethe-
■^ Philip Selznick, T.V.A. and the Grass Roots, University of

California Press, 1949, p. 13.
146
less the disadvantages, as well as advantages, of such involvement

must be recognized.

At this stage in the process, then, the problem and all its
ramifications are explored, the precise aspect of the problem to be
attacked is selected, work and study on this aspect are undertaken,
often with the use of a variety of experts and task groups, the
resulting data processed, and the possible alternatives for solution
spread out for group consideration. While situations and problems
vary, such procedure as this is in most instances essential.
SOLUTION OF THE PROBLEM
The next step in planning is securing a firm decision as to which

alternative solution is to be selected. In other words, the plan for
action is established at this point.
It is unlikely that exploration of the problem will yield a ready

answer. The facts, and circumstances surrounding the facts, will be
viewed differently, and judgments in respect to them will vary.
Therefore it may be necessary to posit two or more solutions from
among which the planning group must choose or combine into one
single program for action. Thus a community council which is
seeking to build a community center may consider such alternatives
as (1) building a Y.M.C.A. with a private grant from a large
international firm known to support a Y.M.C.A. but not likely to give
to a community center, (2) taking over and turning the old lodge hall
into a community center with the aid of many small private gifts, (3)
asking the city to contribute to the erection of a new community
center to which the citizens would contribute and which they would
operate, (4) asking the city to build and operate a community center
with public funds. Each alternative listed by this group has many
implications in terms of economic and social costs, and these latter
must be clearly identified before a meaningful decision is reached.
There are some who believe that such a "spelling out" of

alternatives merely complicates the issue, confuses people, and

leads to
147
inevitable conflict. Far better, they say, to throw all the evidence
and weight behind one plan and to generate enthusiasm for it. Here
again, as at almost all other points, the issue is one of objective. If
the purpose is merely to get a job done quickly, the advocates of
"one alternative" are probably correct. But if the objective is to
develop both good working relations and the best decision possible,
the working out of alternative plans may have validity. For it is
possible for groups to work through and secure unanimous
agreement in respect to complex issues. And where they cannot,
perhaps a delay in action is advisable, since to rush through one
plan may merely mean that the disagreements will arise later in the
process, or after it has presumably been terminated. Thus in an
industry in which workers and management participate in all policy
decisions and where no decisions are made without unanimous
decisions, it can be reported:
The members of the factory recognize that this unanimity rule may
lead them into situations of stalemate. But they prefer to maintain it
on the grounds that decisions so arrived at have the best chance of
being both the most correct and the most acceptable. Their
experience is that so long as group relations remain satisfactory, no
stalemate occurs. People show themselves to be flexible enough to
modify their views. On occasions when stresses between groups
appear, the unanimity rule is stiU usefiJ. Even should a stalemate
occur, it is by this means that the unfortunate consequences are
avoided of taking decisions without full agreement, for decisions of
this kind are usually impossible to carry out successfuUy.^
In a discussion of this principle the author adds the comment that

while the unanimity rule does not solve all questions,

. . . rather is it to be seen as a mechanism for facilitating more

constructive relationships and ensuring more reahstic compromises
when the necessary motivations and skills exist in those
concerned.^
And one objective of a planning group, as we conceive it, is devel-
8 Jaques, op. cit., p. 267.
9 Ibid., p. 266.
148
opment of those motivations and skills necessary to make the best

decision in light of the judgment of all members of the group.
In weighing the alternatives and reaching a decision, a large

number of factors must be considered by the group. These relate to
systems of belief prevalent in the community, power factors
present, vested interest that may be threatened, the degree of
support Kkely in the community. It is relatively easy, for example,
for a group who feel strongly about a problem, who have studied all
aspects of the situation carefully, and who want to take action, to
outline for themselves a solution to the problem that is quite
unrealistic. The planning group must continually remind themselves
of "accepted ways" in the community, and this of course is often a
function performed well by those involved by cooptation. The more
they are steeped in traditional ways of moving in the community,
the greater will be their skill to move along new paths without
setting up stress between themselves and their community. A self-
sanctioning group seeking to plan and develop community projects
is impossible; conformity and modification of views to be consistent
with those prevalent in the community are enforced in innumerable

ways.^"
One of the difficulties faced by all planning groups is maintenance

of agreement once it has been reached. All individuals tend to be
driven by conflicting motives and to subscribe to a number of
opposing and confficting beliefs. This is the result of unconscious
forces, the nature and insistence of which most of us do not
recognize. But they produce those inconsistencies in behavior
which move an individual enthusiastically to support a plan or
project one day and confess grave reservations about it the next.
Therefore the group must not only secure agreement but maintain
agreement, by reiteration of its basic points of view (which led to
the decision) and restatement of its decision.
Even then, there may be resistance to the plan by members who

agreed to it but later had doubts about the wisdom of their
agreement. This may take the form of withdrawal, resistance to
action,
149
petty arguments about small points in the plan, scapegoating, or

attacking someone in the group or outside the group. At no point is
the importance of morale more obvious than here. A group with low
morale may simply disintegrate at this stage, whereas one with high
morale will have the capacity to work out these stresses before they
proceed with action.
The planning group, in addition, will have other considerations to

take into account. The tendency is to seek for panaceas. But, as
impHed, realistic accounting of the situation and forces operating in
the community may make for modification of such views. Often a
plan may be developed in stages, with short- and long-term goals,
recognizing that change comes slowly, and establishing modest
and attainable goals for the immediate future but looking forward to

full implementation of the plan through consistent action over the

years. A plan may also recognize the principle of indirection, which
impHes some analysis of community life to discover "points of
leverage" or "areas of flexibility" as points for initiating a particular
program. Thus a group working for more equitable opportunities for
the Negro may find what the whites fear most is the possibility of
intermarriage, and that which they resist least is the betterment of
educational opportunities for Negroes. The latter would then
constitute a "point of leverage" for initiation of a program for
improvement of conditions for Negroes in this community.
All these are factors which may confront a planning group as it

makes a decision on its plan for action. They will occur in various
patterns and at various times, and of course, rigid laws for dealing
with them cannot be made. But conscious awareness of them, and
decisions made in respect to them, in terms of costs to the planning
group, their organization, their objective, and to community morale,
are suggested by this brief analysis.
ACTION
The final phase of planning, as it is conceived here, relates to

action. This phase, as is evident from the foregoing, is not separate
150
from the other aspects of planning, yet it requires distinctive

strategy and skill. Most workers in the field agree that a group must
plan for action almost as one plans a campaign of any kind.
Failure to plan action carefully may well result in what is called the
"boomerang" eflFect. A group may begin a program to alleviate
discrimination but finish their work with increased intergroup

hostihty in the community. Another group seeks to secure action on

some point in their program and begins to exert pressure on
various pohtical figures. They may find the result is not merely a
feeling of neutrahty but perhaps resistance or active opposition.
Such 'TDOomerang" effects are usually the result of indiscriminate
action, of starting at the wrong point, of suggesting programs which
stir uneasiness or suspicion or increase hostility, of putting undue
pressure on people, of launching a program when people are
deeply concerned with some other issue.
It is obvious that a program of action must be launched with some

awareness of the context in which it is to operate. A "fair
employment practice bill" is not to be secured by indiscriminate
pressure on congressmen or members of Parhament. Action here
begins with some understanding of the accepted ways of operating
in Congress or Parliament, of the ways in which bills are
sponsored, of the ways in which such bills gather informal support
in the House, and the ways of exerting pressure which the
members of these bodies consider acceptable. In light of this
information a planning group can begin a campaign of action,
moving with enthusiasm and vigor but always along a path which,
in this case, is not determined by them, but by the group whom they
wish to influence.
Although viewed with mixed feelings by many professional workers,

the Back of the Yards Council in Chicago has a most impressive
record of successful action on matters in which it is interested. Part
of the reason for this success is indicated in the following report:
In order to carry out this fight, leaders of the Back of the Yards
Council had to familiarize themselves with the governmental
"matching" financial arrangements—the relationships of various
departments of the govern-

151
ment, such as the Department of Agriculture, to this project—the

arguments pro and con on the issue of the appropriation, the
governmental channels through which a bill has to proceed before it
reaches the floor for a vote—the requirements within the national
appropriation for a state subsidy, the securing of facts on the
number of Hot Lunch projects throughout the country, and a wealth
of other information deahng with government administration.
Leaders of the Back of the Yards Council who went to Washington
were so completely informed on the issue that many senators who
were opposing the bill were surprised to learn from Back of the
Yards leaders that they had such and such a number of Hot Lunch
projects in their own states, and that such and such a number of
famihes in their own states were desirous of the continuance of this
project. The calm, sound, factual, pithy, and sincere testimony of
Back of the Yards leaders before both the Senate and House
committees captured the admiration not only of most of the
senators and representatives, but of a good many of the newspaper
correspondents and columnists. ^^
Later the group went to Springfield, where it is said of the Council

leaders:
Their knowledge of parhamentary procedures, committee

regulations, governmental red tape, legislative floor tactics, and
general information on the issue by the Back of the Yards leaders
evoked the admiration of the state legislators.^^
It will be evidenced over and over again, that the plan of action
must be carefully conceived and developed if it is to anticipate
success. One council which sought increased pensions and
allowances for the old people in the community were conscious of
the prevalent conservative attitude in the community in respect to

such allowances. It was felt that the community would oppose any
such increase in allowances because "people should be able to get
on by themselves." Before advancing their plan the council began a
campaign to inform the public about the aged through news stories,
pictures, radio talks, etc. and aimed these releases at three points
11 Saul D. Alinsky, Reveille for Radicals, University of Chicago

Press 1946, pp. 186-187.
12 Ibid.
152
152 COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION: THEORY AND PMNCIPLES
they felt people would understand: (1) there were more old people
today than ever before; (2) the old people were fine people,
dignified, and living the last years of life gracefully; (3) they were
caught in the spiral of inflation, most had money saved but it meant
much less now than when it was saved. There was no word in any
of these releases about what could be done about the problem, but
a surprising amount of comment arose in the community. "Isn't it a
shame what's happening to old people today," or "You'd think they
could do something for those old folks." When the council came
forward with their plan for increased allowances, there was
surprising support for it, and the plan passed the municipal council
unanimously. Consideration of the prevailing systems of belief and
ways of developing a plan consistent with these beliefs is, in many
cases, sound procedure.
From these few illustrations, it is apparent that planning for action is

itself an intricate process, and that if it is to be successful it requires
careful study of the community; the probable reaction of the
community; the customary procedures by which similar plans are
accepted, adopted, or enacted; the persons who must support the

plan if it is to be implemented; the costs of the plan and the sources

from which these costs are to be drawn; the reasons why the plan
is essential and why the arguments against it are not considered
vaHd; the "proper" ways of approaching leaders and others in
respect to the plan, etc. Anything less than such a thorough
approach jeopardizes all the previous work that goes into planning.
153
Part Three
Principles of Community Organization
154
155
Some Principles Relating to Organization
HE principles of community organization which will be discussed

here and in the next two chapters emerge from, and are based
upon, the analysis developed in the preceding discussion. In broad
terms these principles are shaped and limited by the frame of
reference for community organization which we have provided. This
framework derives from a specific value system, certain
conceptions of the problem of community, and some general
assumptions as to method. Within this general field, however,
principles are shaped and focused more sharply by some
understanding of the social forces which impinge on the individual
and the group in the community, some understanding of the
planning process, and some knowledge of empirical work in groups
and communities. All these influence or determine the principles of
community organization.

All this has been outlined in some detail in the preceding chapters,
and we turn now to a consideration of specific principles—the
elementary or fundamental ideas regarding initiation and
continuation of community organization processes. These
principles will be
155
156
discussed in terms of the nature of the organization or association

and the role of the professional worker.
The process of community organization requires some kind of

structure and social organization. The task, or problem, or project
will be considered by some group, committee, council, commission,
or other form of organization. This latter may be formal, with title,
offices, and employed staff, or informal with a few persons meeting
in a home or school room. But there will be some form of
association through which are channeled the aims and efforts of the
persons concerned. The character, structure, and metliod of
operation of this association is of first importance to us, since this
association becomes the main channel through which the
community organization process moves. The degree to which the
objectives and the unique process we have imputed to community
organization are fulfilled is consequently dependent on the way this
association functions. The principles guiding the development and
work of this association are, therefore, relevant principles of
community organization. The association and process are not
separate; the association is an instrument that facihtates the
process.
We have chosen to use the term "association" to designate the

organization (be it a committee, a council, a corporation, a

commission, etc.) that is established to secure the objectives of the
individuals concerned.^ As we use the term it will mean the
structure, established by members of the community, to deal with a
community problem or problems.
DISCONTENT WITH EXISTING CONDITIONS IN THE

COMMUNITY MUST INITIATE and/or NOURISH THE
DEVELOPMENT OF THE ASSOCIATION
The motives which lead people into community endeavors are

many and complex. We have already referred in a previous chapter
to the fact that an "image of potentiality" or a "general experimental
1 "Organization" is a word more generally used for this purpose, but

the frequent use of this term would undoubtedly cause confusion in
a context in which the phrase "community organization" appears
regularly.
157
attitude" may motivate people to work through many different kinds

of problems. Or people may be motivated to participate in a
community association because they may make contacts or friends
in this setting, or because they will find some satisfaction for their
need for power. Any one, or cluster, of these motives may move a
person or an association to pursue with interest and enthusiasm a
particular community project. But we wish to emphasize here that
deep and widely shared feelings of discontent with respect to
certain features of community Hfe may well be a more effective
springboard for creation and development of an association that will
have sufficient motivation and dynamic to overcome the many
difficulties that confront diverse individuals and groups seeking a
common means of dealing with problems of their community.

This view is, of course, similar to one prevalent in psychiatry in

which pain is considered a prerequisite to change. The individual
will resist change and will, indeed, change only if such alteration
promises to be less uncomfortable than the individual's present
state. Only if the individual feels more pain, discomfort, unhappi-
ness now than will probably be the case if certain changes are
made, will there be present a suitable condition for intensive
therapy. But if motivated by pain, and even though suffering
through the tlierapy process, the individual may find quicker and
more permanent resolution of his difficulties than if he were
motivated to consider change because of an interest in
psychotherapy or because of casual acceptance of the prevailing
view that "everyone should have an analysis." It is not that casual
interest or enthusiasm will not lead the individual to therapy; it is
that such motivation is hardly a sufficient preparation for the
rigorous and difficult soul searching which must accompany, if not
precede, the successful resolution of a problem or the adjustment
necessary for change.
We have already implied that in the community field there are a

variety of motives which may be found among the individuals who
support, and work in, a community association. Obviously,
discontent is not the only motive that leads to community
participation and involvement. But we return to the thesis, largely
accepted
158
in psychiatry, that discontent leads to a more dynamic involvement

than the other motives mentioned. And, we suggest, such
involvement is desirable if the community association (the
neighborhood council, the welfare council, the village council) is to

work through the many diflBculties that must be confronted in

initiating and developing the community organization process. For
the participants in this process are not simply a few friends meeting
around a common interest, nor a professional staff developing a
plan to "sell" to a passive committee or board, but rather
representatives from diverse groups with quite different interests
and beliefs, seeking to find a means of working together on a
problem of mutual concern. This process is one that is fraught with
difficulties—with tension, conflict, and jealousy. If there is a
profound conviction about the common problem, a deep feeling that
"this community situation is wrong and must be righted," the group
has a common motivation which may not only make it possible to
overcome some of the difficulties confronted in the process, but
may provide the association with a dynamic and a quality of life not
found in associations nourished by gentler or more moderate
motives.
It should be said, of course, that such discontent cannot (at least,

should not for our purposes) be artificially induced. But we assume,
and indeed experience has shown it frequently to be the case, that
such discontents may arise spontaneously or that freeing people to
talk will bring to the surface discontents which have long lain
dormant. It is when these discontents are verbalized and agreed
upon that the community association may spring into life or may
take on a new and dynamic quality which makes it possible for the
community to resolve cooperatively some of its common problems.
The association will not, of course, always operate with burning
discontent pressing it forward. There will be times of dynamic
activity and times of relaxation. But it is when the association,
representing the major groups in the community, becomes deeply
discontented with a situation in the community that it will find the
resources and the capacity to use the community organization
process in an energizing way.

159
Thus, with some modification, community organization may use for

its purposes a concept prevalent in psychiatry. "Pain" is perhaps a
too precise and hmited term to apply in the community field. But
"discontent" as we use it here is a comparable term. For it implies
such dissatisfaction with the present situation that considerable
sacrifice will be endured to relieve this situation. Where, therefore,
the association grows from the seeds of discontent with existing
conditions in the community, it begins with a "common feeling" of
importance and a "common wish" of some intensity. The stronger
the feeling, the deeper the disturbance, the more profound the
conviction, the greater will be the motivation to use effectively the
association in resolving the problem about which discontent exists.
The validity of this principle has been intuitively recognized in all

large continuing organizations. The Y.M.C.A. has, for example,
revived itself time and time again by creating among its leaders a
profound sense of discontent with "the condition of young men in
our cities"—or with their condition in the army, in lumber camps, in
industry, in small towns, etc. The program developed to meet these
conditions provided the Y.M.C.A. leaders with great satisfaction, but
it was when the leaders became gripped with a feeling of some
great need from which a great sense of mission emerged that the
organization—the Y.M.C.A. as a whole—strove and struggled in a
way which energized and revitalized it.- This is no less true of the
Communist party, the Roman Catholic Church, the Red Cross, or
innumerable other organizations. All these have had continuing
programs which elicited support from their followers, but it was
when they faced some desperate need, some new challenge or
threat, some emergency situation which constituted for all members
"a situation to be remedied" that the organization took on new
vitaHty. Further, many of these organizations in their wisdom far
exceed modem public relations men in their skill in winning

continuing support among their followers. For they develop a

picture of universal evil, of great dangers and tragedies, of
tremendous need,
2 Murray G. Ross, The Y.M.C.A. in Canada, Ryerson Press, 1951.
160
which continually captures or recaptures the sense of discontent

which motivates support for the organization.
Thus the association that is to help develop and sustain community

integration should emerge as a result of dissatisfaction with existing
conditions and should continue with deep sensitivity to this or other
dissatisfactions. It is under such circumstances that associations
are able to withstand inner conflicts, contemplate and initiate
changes and fresh adjustments. This is not to suggest, as already
implied, that other motivations are not vaHd, that they will not,
indeed, accompany discontent, but it is to emphasize the
appropriateness of stirring and testing discontent in the community
as a basis for identifying areas of work and initiating the community
organization process.
This does not imply that associations may not operate unless all
members are motivated by discontent. Clearly this is not so. But
many associations that continue without such motivation operate
with casual interest and loyalty on the part of their members; their
work is often that of an employed staff, in which members have little
share and only marginal interest; and the operation is such that it
can seldom withstand conflict or criticism. The association which
emerges from discontent may actually have greater diflBculty in
finding agreed-upon methods of procedure, because there is deep
feeling about the operation, but it has a vitality and a significance

for its members that make it a dynamic force in the life of the
community.
Many community chests, welfare councils, and welfare funds

emerged from a common feeling of discontent with sporadic,
uncoordinated, and inconsistent efforts in the welfare field. And
most of these associations revealed great vitality in their early days.
Many have, however, lost this feeling of discontent and have
become mechanical means of raising money or of doing superficial
planning. If they are to regain this vitality, they must regain some
feeling about significant problems with which they might be
concerned. There are scores of problems in the financing and
operation of
161
welfare services, any one of which might refire discontent in these

associations.^
It will be maintained by some that such is not possible in the

community in which apathy and disinterest in community affairs
predominate. But experience suggests that friendly discussion
about the community and its problems, the encouragement of
expressions about some of these problems, the exchange of
experiences and knowledge about these problems, and the
encouragement of the first faint hope that something can be done
about such problems, result in a mobilization of discontent and a
desire for action.
It will also be questioned whether any individual, group, or

organization has the right to disturb people in this way (or is morally
justified in doing so). We have already discussed this matter in
Chapter 3, but it may be reiterated here, that what is being
suggested is not a crusade against some specific community evil.
Rather are we urging that a process be initiated which may lead a

community to the desire to act in respect to some problem it

conceives as requiring attention. As will be obvious from the
concluding chapters, what is proposed is not a means of cajoling or
coercing people to a certain state of mind; it is a process by which
people are freed to talk, identify needs, associate with others in
dealing with these needs. If discontent exists, it will emerge in this
process; if it does not exist, the process will cease to operate, if it
begins at all. This is not dissimilar to the "aggressive case work"
program of the New York City Youth Board * in which workers deal
patiently yet persistently with persons some of whom firmly reject
recognition of a potential problem. If this latter does not exist for
them, little can or will be done; but the Board insists on its right to
open discussions with these people. The result is that some identify
their need for help, and that help is provided. But there is not
coercion
3 Bradley Buell's study ( Community Planning for Human Services,

Columbia University Press, 1952) by itself provides a challenge
which, if communities were sensitive to it, might stimulate profound
discontent with the existing situation.
* Sylvan S. Furman (ed.), Reaching the Unreached, New York City

Youth Board, 1952.
162
of recognition; there is facilitation of a process by which it may be

recognized.
DISCONTENT MUST BE FOCUSED AND CHANNELED INTO

ORGANIZATION, PLANNING, AND ACTION IN RESPECT TO
SPECIFIC PROBLEMS

Discontent per se is of doubtful value. To provide motivation for

action, discontent must be focused on something specific. In fact,
unfocused discontent is often a major block to any kind of action.
For discontent with "everything that goes on here," with "life in
general," with "the whole town," which never becomes more
specific than expressions of dissatisfaction with "all the graft" or
"the way the big shots operate" or the "crummy attitude everyone
has" inevitably leads to chronic dissatisfaction because "there is
nothing you can do about it." Such discontent may not be a harmful
point for beginning but it is only when it is focused and ordered that
it is a healthy and suitable motive for action. Generalized discontent
inevitably festers and becomes poisonous. It is not more healthy
simply because it is focused clearly on the "condition of our
streets," "the price of milk," the "lack of care for the aged," "the
need for recreational programs." But when it has reached this
stage, action about some of these discontents can be taken, and
this action provides for release of some of the frustration which may
accompany the discontent.
Therefore the discontent needs not only to be focused but to be

channeled into a structure through which something may be done
about the problem. In community organization, people who are
aware of and disturbed about a problem need to come together, to
begin discussions about the problem and its scope, to begin to plan
how to deal with it, and in light of this to begin a program of action.
Those who undertake the release, focusing, and channeling of
feelings of discontent may do so with assurance of the value of the
procedure. It is better from the standpoint of the health of the
individual and the community for discontent to be specific rather
than general; it is better that this discontent be explored rather than
163
remain dormant; it is better that action be taken in respect to this

discontent than it is just to talk about it. This process, experience

suggests, is sound. But it is not without dangers. To encourage
hope that unreaHzable goals can be secured may simply increase
frustration and create the condition of anomie. Exploration of
discontent needs to be realistic and resolution must be focused on
some achievable goals.
THE DISCONTENT WHICH INITIATES OR SUSTAINS

COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION MUST BE WIDELY SHARED IN
THE COMMUNITY
Discontent is an appropriate springboard for many different kinds of

minority movements—political parties, rehgious sects, educational
movements. But community organization is not a minority
movement and cannot be initiated solely by reason of those needs
or discontents which appeal to only a small group in the community.
The discontent must therefore be recognized and understood by
the major parts of the geographic or functional community. Some
parts of the community will be more disturbed by the problem than
other parts. Some parts of the community may at first be only
casually interested. But the problem on which discontent is focused
must be one which potentially many members of the community will
recognize and wish to attack. Our previous description of
community organization process makes this condition essential.
It is assumed here that there can be identified problems of "the

common life," that these can be ordered or ranked by the
community, and that in dealing with them all parts of the community
can be involved in planning and taking action in respect to them.
For, as indicated, we are concerned not simply with solving certain
"community problems," important as they may be, but also vdth
developing the capacity of the community to function in respect to
these and other similar problems. It is essential, therefore, that the
discontent focus on common problems. The process may lead to a

"splitting off" and development of minority groups, but if commu-
164
nity organization is to be initiated, it must be differentiated from

these minority movements and be content to deal only with those
problems about which there is or can be unanimous, or almost
unanimous, agreement.
This may be achieved as discontent is being focused and ordered

in group session. Many problems will be identified and discussed.
In the process of ordering these, the group must be aware of the
purpose they are seeking to achieve. If it is simply action, one
group will outvote another on the ranking of the problem and the
minority may resist with such conviction that they will withdraw. But
if the group is aware of its need to find common ground, it will order
or rank needs (certainly in the early stages of the association) in
terms of those which appear to represent unanimous concern. As
an association matures, it may well permit, if not encourage, action
on problems about which only part of the community is deeply
concerned, but which other parts support. But fundamentally, the
strength of the association (for community organization purposes)
rests on the common problems which concern the major groups in
the community, the ability of the groups to identify these problems
cooperatively, and to work cooperatively in resolving them. Thus
while discontent needs to be stimulated and focused, it requires in
community organization to be ordered in such a way as will provide
problem areas or needs which are of concern to many and which
provide a common framework for cooperative work by the
community.
Thus in the welfare community, the welfare council seeks to have

identified problems which are of deep concern to all its members. It

is not content to operate on the basis of needs defined by a few of

its agency members, but seeks to find the areas of deep discontent
in the welfare community as a whole. Similarly, the neighborhood
council attempts to discover the problems that are foremost in the
thinking of its various block clubs. It does not devote itself
exclusively to the concerns of one block club or one group of block
clubs, but tries to find the problems about which all block clubs are
disturbed. But once the council (welfare or neighborhood) identifies
165
the problem on which it is to work, it seeks to sensitize reluctant

members of the community to the nature of the problem, to share
the discontent with otliers, with a view to mobilizing action on the
part of the whole welfare community or the whole neighborhood.
Obviously, one cannot always expect agreement by everyone in the
community. Some agencies, some block clubs, or some individuals
in each may oppose the action on the discontent which has been
brought into focus. This is inevitable. But one must recognize here,
however, that a large percentage of a welfare or neighborhood
community may find common discontents about which they have
deep feeling. Even if such widespread agreement is not always
possible, it is likely that consistent effort to "spread the area of
shared concern" in the community will result in greater capacity of
all parts to find concerns which all share.
THE ASSOCIATION MUST INVOLVE LEADERS (bOTH FORMAL

AND INFORMAL) IDENTIFIED WITH, AND ACCEPTED BY,
MAJOR SUBGROUPS IN THE COMMUNITY
Community organization as it has been described here requires the

participation of the people of a community.^ This is the essence of
the task. For what is to be united in common action is people.
^ A question that may arise here is whether everyone is to be

included through representation in the community association. We

are suggesting that all the major groups, i.e., the street clubs,
ethnic associations, secret lodges, should be represented in the
neighborhood association, but not everyone in the neighborhood
belongs to one of these associations and therefore not everyone is
represented. Or as the association moves to define its purpose,
those groups will be excluded who are not in sjTnpathy with the
association's purpose. Thus the K.K.K. or other anti-Negro groups,
or a communist organization, will not be members. An argument
can be made that in this situation the neighborhood association is a
functional community, i.e., a group of units with a common interest
in the geographic community. In a functional community like the
welfare community, all agencies are presumably represented on
the welfare council, but some agencies may choose not to belong,
and therefore are not part of the formal welfare community. Our
view is that all units which are in sympathy with the association's
purpose should be represented in the association, and efforts
should be made to include them, but this obviously is not always
possible.
166
And what is to be changed is to be changed by people, who in this

process themselves change and, it is to be hoped, grow in capacity.
Culture is mediated through persons, and ... a culture, or a

profession, or a level of administration, or a point of view, cannot be
represented by a charter, a diagram, or a printed description, but
only by hving human beings who themselves embody the position
which is to be taken into account.®
Obviously, however, everyone in the community (if it is of any

considerable size) cannot be involved in face-to-face contact with

all others in the community; a means must be devised for

participation through representation. This requires, first,
identification of those groupings of people in the community which
have significance for the participants and, secondly, the
identification of the leaders of these groups. These are the points, it
may be said parenthetically, that most workers and associations in
the community organization field are less knowledgeable about
than tliey should be.
Identification of the major groupings requires some understanding

of the social organization of the community in which the work is
being initiated. In the geographic community there is a natural
division of formal organizations like the church, the village (legal)
council, the school board, and in larger cities the board of trade, the
service clubs, the welfare agencies, etc. Far more difficult to
identify, but quite as important, is the informal organization: the little
friendship groups, the neighborhood social club, the ethnic group,
the fraternity, the secret lodge. In North America, workers in
community organization tend to proceed as if the formal (mostly
voluntary) organizations caught up most of the people in the
community. As most studies of participation in voluntary
organizations show, this is not the case. There may be, in fact, as
few as 50 percent of the people active in such formal
organizations.^ If,
® Margaret Mead (ed.), Cultural Patterns and Technical Change,

'' Hurley H. Doddy, "An Inquiry into Informal Groupings in a

Metropolitan Area," Autonomous Groups Bulletin, Vol. VI, No. 4, p.
11 (September 1951). See also Ira De A. Reid and Emily L. Ehle,
"Leadership Selection in Urban
167

therefore, participation is to include groups which have as members

most if not all the residents of a community, some of these informal
groupings must be involved. In most North American cities such
groups abound, and they often constitute the only meaningful group
relationship for many people in the community. In one recent study
of a small section of a metropolitan area there were identified "more
than two hundred informal groups unknown to institutional
authorities in the area studied." ^ It is clear then that in community
organization in geographic communities, not merely the formal
organizations but the multiplicity of informal groups, which include
large numbers of people in most communities, must be involved. As
already implied, the size of the community and the size of the
community association will determine whether one deals with
informal groups with ten members or whether one must group
various subgroups so that one hundred or one thousand members
are represented.
But of basic importance in both geographic and functional

communities is identification of those formal and informal groups
which hold the allegiance of the people. The association may wish
to include Greeks and may invite participation of their church but
neglect the Greek Athletic Glub, for example. More careful study
might show that the club is a large cohesive group with great
meaning for its members and one with which all members identify
strongly. Obviously, this latter group must be included if
representation from the Greeks is needed, and other things being
equal, it might have more significance in the lives of people for
community organization purposes. Thus identification of groups for
participation requires a sufficient knowledge of the community so
that not only the groups, but their relative importance to people in
the community, can be appraised.
Having discovered the major groupings in the community, the

Locality Areas," Public Opinion and Propaganda, Daniel Katz,

Dorwin Cart-wright, Samuel Eldersveld, and Alfred McClung Lee
(eds.), The Dryden Press, Inc., 1954, pp. 446-^59. 8 Ibid.
168
next question is how these groups can be brought into

communication around some common problem. It is generally
accepted that this can be done most effectively through group
leaders. But it is of the greatest importance that these leaders be
accepted by, and positively identified with, the subgroup they are to
represent. As already indicated, a community association frequently
selects the "well-educated young man" or similar persons because
they appear to the association to be the "natural leaders" of a street
club, a neighborhood association, or a welfare agency. Often this is
far from the truth. Often these are persons who are seeking status
in other groups or in the community at large; they are not positively
identified with their own subgroup, and represent their subgroup
inadequately. Even if the subgroup is asked to appoint a leader to
represent them, they will often select someone like the "well-
educated young man" who, they feel, is more like the "outsider,"
able to speak his language, and knowledgeable in his ways. For
either of these or other reasons then, many community
associations tend to be made up of like-minded people who do not
truly represent subgroups and who are not fully trusted by subgroup
members. If the community association is to be a forum where the
real concerns and desires and needs of the people are to be
identified, and if the association is to have a means of
communication with the people in the community, it is likely that the
accepted leaders (both formal and informal) of subgroups must be
members of the association. These leaders know their people and
in turn are known by their people. Such leaders can speak with

confidence for their people, and with their people, for usually
effective communication exists between them. When such leaders
are part of the association, their people feel that they as a group
belong for they identify closely with these leaders. This is as true for
the Rotary Club or Chamber of Commerce in a large city as it is for
a small group of Yemenites in an Israeli village.^ Recently a
Y.M.C.A. board was asked to appoint a member to a welfare
planning council, and the
9 This is based largely on Eisenstadt's work reported in Chapter 4,

pp.
121-122.
169
matter was referred to the president for action. The president

looked over the hst of members of the board carefully and came
upon what he considered a "natural"—a young school teacher
named Franks. Now Franks was the youngest member on the
board; he was there by virtue of the fact that the members of this
Y.M.C.A. are allowed to have one member to represent them on
the board, and Franks was selected, chiefly by the staff, because
he could make a "good impression at board meetings." But not only
was Franks not a good representative of the Y.M.C.A. members,
few of whom knew him, but he was an exceedingly poor
representative of the Y.M.C.A. leadership on a community
committee. These latter were on the whole successful
businessmen, tolerant, but not respectful, of men like Franks.
Franks could not possibly represent the Y.M.C.A. board. He lived in
a different world, spoke a different language, was unaware of the
power factors that determined so much of what Y.M.C.A. board
members did.^° Welfare councils and other community
organizations are full of people like Franks, pleasant people, "willing

horses," men of good will. But unfortunately such people do not

establish meaningful lines of communication in the community, nor
do they involve in the affairs of the community the group they
presumably represent.
The accepted and identified leaders when they come together will
constitute quite a different picture from a group of "Franks." They
are leaders not because they are pleasant, nor skillful at meetings,
nor able to articulate with facility. Their leadership is based on a
complexity of factors which may include, but is not dependent upon,
getting on well with outside groups. Because they speak for a
group, discussion may be a good deal more frank and honest,
conflicts may appear more frequently, a common language may be
more difficult to secure. But such a group of leaders is the com-
^0 One may question here whether any of these board members

represented the Y.M.C.A. membership and whether, therefore, the
welfare council should not seek other representatives from the
Y.M.C.A. Such may be the case, but if the Y.M.C.A. is to cooperate,
certainly its power group must be represented.
170
munity in miniature; and the unity, within which diversity is to exist,

is not easily achieved.
Formal leaders such as schoolteachers, ministers, priests, village

administrators, etc. must be included in a community association as
well. Some of these leaders are leaders in the sense that they
"have a following," and some do not. But as a group they have a
great deal of power, and without the interest and support of these
formal leaders, many difficulties would confront community
organization projects. Their participation is desirable because of

their power, but also because they are able to communicate with
individuals and groups in the formal social organization. Janowitz ^^
has suggested that the formal leaders of a community tend to form
an elite, and that there is considerable mutual confidence and trust
among members in this group. Since not all formal leaders are, or
can be, included in the association, it will be important to discover
here the persons who are recognized leaders of the "leadership
elite," for these would be the best representatives of the formal
leadership.
As already implied, inclusion of the respected and trusted leaders

with whom the major subgroups identify provides a major step in
integrating the community and makes possible initiation of a
process of communication which, if it becomes effective, will
nourish and sustain the process of community organization.
THE ASSOCIATION MUST HAVE GOALS AND METHODS OF

PROCEDURE OF HIGH ACCEPTABILITY
The association brings together diverse elements in the community,

each with its own interests, attitudes, and behavior patterns. The
task of welding these diverse leaders and the groups they
represent into a group that can work comfortably together is a
considerable one. There is, of course, no "one way" in which this
11 Morris Janowitz, The Community Press in an Urban Setting,

Free Press,
171
is done, but establishment of common goals and agreed-upon

procedures is an important step.
The discontents discussed earlier may provide for specific goals,

and in moving towards these, the association may work out its

manner of procedure. But if the association is to continue, it will

require a statement of its general goals and methods of procedure.
The tendency for most groups is to formulate these quickly, and the
first task of an association is often to develop a constitution. But if
the statement of purpose and methods of procedure is to be
meaningful to all members, it cannot be developed quickly, but
must emerge with practice, experience, and discussion. The reason
why so many constitutions are formulated and then filed away and
forgotten is that they do not represent a frame of reference for the
association, but rather a mechanical and meaningless ritual which
has little if any adhesive quality in the life of an association. The
writer was surprised to find that in many of the collective farm
settlements in Israel, some of which had been operating for twenty
years or more, there was no constitution or bylaws. But everyone
Hving in the settlement knew how the village operated, what were
the procedures for achieving certain ends, what was permissible
and what was taboo.
It is perhaps less important that the purposes and procedures be

carefully written and filed than that they be known and accepted.
For they represent "the common life" and the frame of reference for
the association. These purposes and procedures provide a way of
life for the association, a way of behaving in many situations, a way
of carrying on the association's business. Such purposes and
procedures need not only to be developed, but articulated
frequently for new members and old members alike, and adhered
to in practice. It is just such purposes and procedures which permit
expressions of aggression and hostility within the association
without severely damaging it.
What is peculiar is the usual practice of giving long hours to

developing a constitution at early meetings of an association and
then continuing to operate as if no such document had been de-

172
veloped. It may well be that it is enough to begin with a simple

statement of purpose and to allow procedures to develop with
experience. But once these have been developed through practice
or put in written form, it seems important that they be used. For they
constitute, as suggested, the common frame of reference. In
periods of disagreement, disturbance, or conflict they can be
referred to both as a means of discovering direction and as a
means of illustrating the common purpose for which the group
exists. Urbanization tends to segmentaHze life, and most groups
find it difficult not to be diverted in their efforts. Frequent reference
to goals, to "what we agree on," to "our accepted way of doing this,"
to "our tradition," to "our form of organization," to "our established
procedures," provides for security, stability, and consistent direction
which is essential in an association made up of diverse groups in
the community.
THE PROGRAM OF THE ASSOCIATION SHOULD INCLUDE

SOME ACTTVITIES WITH EMOTIONAL CONTENT
We have already referred to the importance of emotional and

cultural factors in the life of an individual or an association. Yet
many of the latter operate as if life were exclusively rational and a
sharing of intellectual interests were sufficient for a community
association. This is far from the truth. To bind together diverse
groups requires common ideas, feelings, and traditions. This is not
something that can be done artificially nor can it be forced. Yet it
may be encouraged and facilitated.
An association often develops strength and cohesion in ways

similar to the family. There are friendship, mutual support, diflBcult
tasks, gay times, hardship, conflict, celebrations. There are times

for work, for laughter, for relaxation. Similarily in the association

which brings the community together there is variety of activity—
hard work, but time also for celebration and festive occasions.
These latter are far more significant than is commonly recognized,
for they build that community sentiment essential for community
integration. These activities of the association may provide rich
emotional
173
experiences which contribute tremendously to the binding mortar of

common sentiment in the community. Far from confining its
activities to serious discussions, the community association should
encourage and sponsor community celebrations consistent with the
nature of its community. This tends to be done more effectively on
other continents than in North America, where folk festivals,
celebrations, and even official days such as Thanksgiving, have
lost their ceremonial meaning.^^
Man needs not only a sense of common purpose with his fellows
but constant dramatization of it. Part of this may come through
ceremonies and observations that have emotional content and
meaning for the individual. Rituals which symbolize the values for
which the association stands are valuable not only because they
reinforce loyalty to those goals but also because they unify the
group around these goals. Erich Fromm stresses modern man's
need to find rituals of meaning, when he writes:
What is the situation today as far as the ritualistic aspect of

religions is concerned? The practicing religionist participates in the
various rituals of his church and undoubtedly this very feature is
one of the most significant reasons for church attendance. Because
there is little opportunity for modern man to share actions of
devotion with others, any form of ritual has a tremendous attraction

even if it is cut off from the most significant feelings and strivings of
one's everyday fife.
The need for common rituals is thoroughly appreciated by the

leaders of authoritarian political systems. They offer new forms of
politically colored ceremonies which satisfy this need and bind the
average citizen to the new political creed by means of it. Modern
man in democratic cultures does not have many meaningful rituals.
It is not surprising then that the need for ritualistic practice has
taken all sorts of diversified forms. Elaborate rituals in lodges,
rituals in connection with patriotic reverence for the state, rituals
concerned with polite behavior, and many others are expressions of
this need for shared action, yet often they exhibit only the
impoverishment of devotional aim and separation from those ideals
officially recognized by religion and ethics. The appeal of fraternal
organizations, like the preoccupation with proper behavior
expressed in
12 This is especially relevant for welfare councils whose "big event"

each year is an annual meeting which is frequently incredibly dull.
174
etiquette books, gives convincing proof of modern man's need for

ritual and of the emptiness of those he performs.
The need for ritual is undeniable and vastly underestimated. It

would seem that we are left with the alternatives of becoming
rehgionists or indulging in meaningless ritualistic practices or living
without any gratification of this need. If rituals could be easily
devised new humanistic ones might be created. Such an attempt
was made by the spokesmen for the religion of Reason in the
eighteenth centiiry. It has been made by the Quakers in their

rational humanistic rituals and has been tried by small humanistic

congregations. But rituals cannot be manufactured. They depend
on the existence of genuinely shared common values, and only to
the extent to which such values emerge and become part of human
reality can we expect the emergence of meaningful, rational
rituals.^^
Anyone who has been in a small French village on the day of

Confirmation for children, and sees the meaning and significance
which this has for individuals and the community as a whole, will
recognize the power of such a day in creating a feeling of
community. There are countless such celebrations throughout the
world, some of which have lost their meaning and many of which
are identified with values which belong to a world that has passed.
But an association in the community that is alert to the validity of
individual and communal need for symbols, celebrations, and
rituals that dramatize the common life of the community will be
constantly seeking ways to develop such media.
THE ASSOCIATION SHOULD SEEK TO UTILIZE THE MANIFEST

AND LATENT GOOD WILL WHICH EXISTS IN THE COMMUNITY
In every community there are large numbers of people who are

willing to contribute to, identify with, and participate in any
constructive community effort. This is a fact frequently ignored by
those who are convinced that only apathy and indifference exist.
The extent of this good will is seldom recognized and seldom

utilized. A number of years ago one of the writer's classes did a
Study of a disorganized, heterogeneous neighborhood in a large
city.
13 Erich Fromm, Psychoanalysis and Religion, Yale University

Press, 1950, pp. 110-111.

175
On the "worst street" in this neighborhood, where it was known that

people did not know their neighbors and were not interested in the
neighborhood, mothers were canvassed to see if they would take
care of a neighbor's children one period a week until the children's
sick parents recovered. Everyone who was asked agreed to help!
Apparently, there was considerable good will and willingness to
help a neighbor when the problem was understood. When this
same street was canvassed later for contributions to the
Community Chest, however, the response was very poor. The
Chest was an impersonal and complex organization that had little
meaning in the lives of these people. The good will that existed
could not be, or at least was not being, used by the Community
Chest.
A police chief, addressing a group of community workers, detailed

the work of his men and indicated the numerous areas in which the
interests of the police force overlapped those of the social workers
in the community. He concluded by saying, "I suppose none of you
knows as much about the community as we do, none of you covers
every section of the city twenty-four hours a day as we do, none of
you is more anxious than we are to develop healthy community
living, yet we struggle with the job alone and without very much
skill. Why is it that we have never supplemented each other's
work?" Why indeed? On the whole, workers in the community
organization field have never recognized the potential good will and
support which might come from the police force. In many cities,
modem police officers are anxious to associate themselves with
constructive community projects. This is but another illustration of a
source of good will and support largely unexplored.
In Doddy's study, to which reference has already been made, many

of the two hundred groups studied would be interested in

associating themselves with community projects. But these groups

on the whole are not even known to be in existence by the formal
community associations.
Many of the groups might perhaps support selected institutional

projects, but few have been approached as a group by institutional
representatives. In the absence of contact with the institutions, they
do
176
not volunteer their services but pursue interests of their own. If by

chance they learn of . . . [a] project . . , they are likely to lend
support.^*
All this is to suggest that there are probably extensive sources of

good will and support in the community which remain to be
mobilized in cooperative communityendeavors.lt is not utilized
largely because (a) workers are unaware that such good will exists,
or (b) recognizing that it exists, they are (hke the Community Chest
mentioned) unable to "tap," to release, or to utilize it—their concern
is too complex or remote to interest these people. This latter is a
question of some importance, since a continuing question for any
association is how it can orient its work so that it will fit into the
experiences and systems of behef of the people of the community,
to the end that this work will be meaningful for, relevant to, and
receive support from, these people.
No rules for this can be provided, since the way this is done must
be related to the type of community and the tradition and patterns
of belief in the community. Three general comments may be made
at this point, however. One is that the subgroup leaders are likely to
be the wisest people in knowing how to communicate with groups

in the community, what level of work will appeal to groups, and how
their support may be ensured. The association must depend for its
life on the wisdom of the people and their leaders. The point at
which the leaders need help is not the content of what shall be
done, but the ways by which broader participation and support may
be achieved.
Second, it seems fairly safe to generalize that more appeals to

people for support should be on a personal basis. Likert and Lip-pitt
recount the advice given to a P.T.A. group anxious to secure
additional schools.
But he (a social psychologist adviser) emphasized, in talking with

the P.T.A., that if they wished to motivate people to participate in
voting, it would be very important to have each household called
upon by a volunteer from the P.T.A. to encourage every eligible
voter in the household to vote. Acting in a vigorous manner upon
his advice, the P.T.A. organized an information program about the
need for additional schools
1* Doddy, loc. cit., p. 11.
177
and the cost of these additions which was widely disseminated

through the cooperation of the local mass media. Most important of
all, however, the local P.T.A. organized a campaign in which every
household throughout the city was called upon. In these personal
calls on individual households, neighbors of the person called upon
gave him facts about the situation and urged him to be sure to vote
in the forthcoming election. The eflFect of this campaign with its
house-to-house solicitation was a large vote in the election and one
which was overwhelmingly in favor of the additional schools and of
the bond issue to finance them.^^

There are innumerable illustrations of the great value of such

person-to-person contacts, not simply for "putting over" a campaign
but for establishing neighborly contacts, sharing information, and
strengthening the fiber of community life.
Third, people should be given the opportunity of participating and

contributing at the level at which they can make their contributions
comfortably and in a manner that has meaning for them. The Polish
woman (or the British, or the Chinese, etc.) might be happy to set
up a table serving a Polish meal at one of the Chest dinners but be
unhappy about canvassing for the Chest in her church group. The
former she would do well; it would be appreciated in a way she
would understand; she would feel successful. The canvassing she
might not do well; she might feel inadequate and would tend to
withdraw. Many businessmen who will delight in the struggle to
secure finances for a new community center will be uncomfortable
in the planning group establishing the program of art classes or
nursery schools for the center. Ethnic groups may find great
happiness in participating in a folk festival, yet feel ill at ease at a
formal dinner of various groups to raise money for a project.
Awareness of the point at which groups are able to participate is
especially important in the early stages of involvement. Later, as
interest broadens and knowledge of the association grows,
individuals and groups may extend the nature of their participation.
In the beginning, if withdrawal is to be avoided, participation at a
comfortable level is a prerequisite.
15 Rensis Likert and Ronald Lippitt, "The Utilization of Social

Science," Research Methods in the Behavioral Sciences, Leon
Festinger and Daniel Katz (eds.). The Dryden Press, Inc., 1953, p.
596.
178

Some Principles Relating to Organization (continued^
In this chapter we will continue a discussion of those principles

which, when applied, may facilitate development of a community
association that effectively nourishes the communitv organization
process. It needs only to be emphasized again that these principles
are not discrete units; they are, in fact, inseparable and must be
considered as a whole rather than as units capable of separate
application.
THE ASSOCIATION MUST DEVELOP ACTIVE AND EFFECTIVE

LINES OF COMMUNICATION BOTH WITHIN THE ASSOCIATION
AND BETWEEN THE ASSOCIATION AND THE COMMUNITY
The essence of community, as John Dewey suggested, is

communication. For without communication there cannot be that
interaction by which common meanings, common life, and common
values are established. This implies that communication involves a
good deal more than the mechanical process of receiving and
transmitting messages. It posits a process by which the area of
common understanding and shared values is widened in the
community.
178
179
Ideally, community organization provides a suitable means for

developing "community" in this sense, for it brings together diverse
groups in a common undertaking and sets in motion a process of
interaction through which effective communication may be
established. Unfortunately such a process does not often emerge
and develop without difficulty. And some of the conditions of
effective communication are just now being discovered. These are
by no means final judgments, but enough work has been done in

this field to suggest some useful clues.
To begin with, effective communication within a group, or between

groups, depends to a considerable extent on the quality of
relationships between the people involved.^ Where hostility, fear,
aggression, distrust, disrespect predominate in these relationships,
communication will be far less effective than where there are
friendliness, mutual respect, and trust. This suggests the
importance of the creation of a social climate which permits and
facilitates communication. The hypothesis might be stated thus:
communication in meetings will be more effective when people feel
comfortable and secure; when there is freedom from fear and
anxiety about others in the meeting; when people feel on equal-
status terms; when contributions to discussion are not only
welcomed but there is a subtle and persistent pull to ensure such
contributions; and when contributions to the discussion are
received with appreciation and understanding. If this hypothesis
has validity, and there is some evidence to suggest it has, it
emphasizes an essential task in the association devoted to
community organization, namely, development of an atmosphere in
which participants feel safe and able to express themselves freely.
This does not mean that there will not be conflict or that
interpersonal relations will necessarily be intimate, but it does imply
that relations between the persons involved will be such that fear is
a minor, and security a major, element.
1 Elliott Jaques, The Changing Culture of a Factory, Tavistock

Publications, Ltd. (London), 1951, p. 301; see also Harold H.
Kelley, "Communication in Experimentally Created Hierarchies,"
Group Dynamics, Dorwin Cartwright and Alvin Zander (eds.). Row,
Peterson & Company, 1953, pp. 443-461.
180

Second, the way in which communication is structured is also of

importance. There are two aspects to this. One has to do with the
arrangements of people and their relationships that are made to
facilitate communication, and the other with the methods that are
used to make interaction meaningful.
What is the best arrangement of people in an association? The

traditional pattern in North America is the large board or central
committee with perhaps forty or fifty members, with a variety of
smaller subcommittees each working on a separate task. There is
reason to doubt whether there is effective communication in a
board group that is as large as indicated and that meets for less
than two hours as infrequently as once a month. If this is so, it
means that a subcommittee, which must report to the board or
central committee, probably never communicates adequately the
nature and result of its deliberations to the board or to other
subcommittees. The question remains as to whether there are not
more effective ways of organizing the work of an association to the
end that communication may be facilitated. Two recent pieces of
research are suggestive at this point. All practitioners in the field of
community organization have recognized the advantage of small
groups, as opposed to large groups, if meaningful interaction
between members is to take place. Hare's study ^ confirms and
gives point to this impression. Not only is it likely that the small
group of five members will achieve consensus more readily and will
give its members more opportunity to speak than a larger group of
twelve members, but the smaller group experience promises more
satisfaction and more genuine community of feeling. Bavelas' work
on leadership in small task-oriented groups is also of interest at this
point. For while he found that leadership with "high centrality"
produced more quickly and with fewer errors, the groups with such
leadership tended to have lower morale and to achieve less insight

than groups in which leadership was in a less central or dominant
2 A. Paul Hare, "Interaction and Consensus in Different Sized

Groups," Group Dynamics, Dorwin Cartwright and Alvin Zander
(eds.), Row, Peterson & Company, 1953, pp. 507-518.
181
position.^ These tentative findings would suggest that

communication would be most effective in small groups of five
members, in which leadership functions were shared, and in which
informal and intimate discussion of a problem was undertaken. Can
such a hypothesis be tested or tried in a community association?
The tendency is to believe that the large board or central committee

is essential for efficiency and legal purposes. It may be questioned
how efficient such an operation is, however, if meaningful
communication is one criterion of effectiveness. If the purpose of an
association is not simply to "get things done," i.e., to pass
resolutions, build schools, etc., but to establish effective
communication, it may be asked if this particular committee
structure does anything to further the purpose of the association.
Since it is essential that a majority of the members participate in
decisions that are binding on the association, a compromise to
meet this requirement and to make for better communication might
be experimented with. The regular two-hour meeting of the board or
central committee might take a form somewhat like the following:
(1) fifteen minutes to clear essential routine business; (2) half an
hour for briefing on several major issues on which decisions must
be made—the briefing being provided by a subcommittee or expert
in the matter; (3) half an hour for discussion in small groups of five
members to consider these issues; and (4) forty-five minutes during
which the groups report their findings in general meeting and a
decision on the issues is secured. There might be a variety of

patterns useful here, and only experimentation will indicate which is

feasible. It may be that such a structuring of a meeting will prove
more time-consuming, that more awkward questions will be asked,
that fewer resolutions will be passed, but if communication and
building of common understandings are important, some sacrifice
of the desire for quick action is required.
A second consideration which relates to the structuring of com-
3 Alex Bavelas, "Communication Patterns in Task-oriented

Groups," Group Dynamics, Dorwin Cartwright and Alvin Zander
(eds.), Row, Peterson & Company, 1953, p. 505.
182
munication has to do with rehance on formal presentation in either

written or verbal form as a means of establishing common
understandings. But just as memory is selective, so is one's
perception of what one sees and hears. Each individual sees and
hears through a screen that each builds for himself. A message of
any complexity transmitted from one person to another, without the
second person having an opportunity to question or clarify the
meaning of the message with the sender of the message, seldom
has the same meaning for these two persons. Each tends to
interpret the message in his own way. Anyone who has marked
examination papers will recognize the variety of interpretations
given to relatively simple and straightforward questions and
statements. To listen to a variety of delegates report on the
meaning and implications of the addresses presented at a
conference will often cause one to ask if these people attended the
same conference.
To rely on a simple exposition, either verbal or written, of complex

matters is unrealistic. People need opportunity to understand,

assimilate, and use new ideas and new information. The method
suggested above, of small group discussion of essential matters,
may faciHtate such understanding. But this will require a more
Hmited agenda than many associations are ready to consider. Yet
it seems clear that if real understanding is to ensue in the
community organization process, the content must be limited to a
few manageable items, and sufficient time for interaction in respect
to these must be provided.
It has been suggested, also, that communication systems can

easily be overloaded. Messages can be sent out in such volume
and number that they have little if any meaning. It is said that the
German Intelligence knew the date of D-Day prior to its occurrence
in World War II. But Allied Intelligence had secretly released
information about so many other more likely dates for the invasion
that the June 6th date was rejected by the German command.
Overloading the communication system, as in this case, causes
confusion and makes for ineffectiveness in transmitting messages.
But lack of communication may lead to what has been called the
"starvation
183
phenomenon." Persons in an association or community who are not

recipients of any messages, who are not informed, who are never
consulted, will feel rejected and will find development of community
attitudes diflficult. Just as the child grows only through
communication with others, so the individual will develop in the
association and community only through communication with others
in these settings. In communication, therefore, there must be
neither "overloading" nor "starvation." These may both be viewed
as points on a scale, and only careful study of a communication in a
particular situation will permit one to find a point between these

which will satisfy this particular requirement for effective

communication.
Some studies of communication * suggest that messages move

more effectively through accepted channels than through new
channels. That is, a message about the association will be more
widely distributed, and received with more understanding, if it is
relayed through channels that are familiar to those for whom the
message is intended. These channels will vary in all communities,
and only study of local customs will reveal them. A message
regarding government agriculture policy, for example, may be read
and understood by more farmers if it appears in their regular farm
journal than if it appears in a special pamphlet sent to them directly
from a government office. On the whole, community groups will be
more understanding if messages are transmitted to them by their
own leaders than by an outsider or stranger. Again this is a point at
which the wisdom of the local people themselves must be relied
upon, for it is often these people who know what kind of
communication is possible, and what media are most effective.
One of the most effective communication devices in less-developed

countries is the pilot project, in which the problem is worked out on
a small scale by the people who will later decide whether to expand
the range and size of the project. The pilot project provides an
opportunity to see and hear (perhaps to "feel") at first hand the
nature of an idea, technique, or operation with which
4 Eugene L. and Ruth L. Hartley, Fundamentals of Social

Psychology, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1952, p. 65.
184
there has previously been httle experience and about which

communication is extremely difficult. It provides for participation,

demonstration, and understanding in a way that is difficult to match
except in development of the full project itself.
All this indicates the complexity of the communication process. Yet

the nature of the association which brings people together in face-
to-face contacts holds the potentiality of overcoming many of the
difficulties. Common errors are to develop one large committee,
work on too many projects, "overload" a few people in the
community, and to fail to utilize effectively existing media of
communication. More effective work would, it is suggested, require
one large central organization with a number of small task forces in
which
there was intimate sharing of ideas about the problems at hand;

development of a feeling of responsibility and skill on the part of
group leaders in serving as communicating "links" between the
association and the community; processing of material so that there
is emphasis on quality of communication rather than quantity; use
of existing media (e.g., involvement of the neighborhood
newspaper editor); identification of effective communicators (people
who communicate well) and more adequate use of these skilled
people in the association and the community.
THE ASSCMDIATION SHOULD SEEK TO SUPPORT AND

STRENGTHEN THE GROUPS WmCH IT BRINGS TOGETHER IN
COOPERATIVE WORK
The association seeks to be an organization of the community. The

community participates through the units or groups into which it has
divided itself. These units come together through their leaders to
achieve objectives all have defined as desirable. The association
does not exist apart from these units—it represents the "common

life" of these units.
The association is no stronger than the sum of its parts—the

groups which compose it. If the association is made up of groups
which are themselves disorganized, torn by dissension, or
apathetic, it has a narrow base of participation and support in the
community.
185
for weak groups are so withdrawn, or concerned with their own

problems, that they have httle capacity for cooperative activity.
Therefore, while a leader of a weak group may participate in the
association, he will find it difficult to involve his group in the
planning and activities of the community association. A
neighborhood council made up of block clubs inevitably finds that
those clubs that are weak and ineffective provide the least support
for the council's projects. A cleanup day in the neighborhood will
find diligent work on the streets of the strong clubs, and indifferent,
if not absence of, effort on the streets with weak clubs. Similarly at
meetings and conferences, the strong clubs send representatives
who speak with vigor, while the weak clubs are negligent in
attendance and casual in participation.
If, therefore, the association is to be strong, the units which

compose it must themselves be strong cohesive groups. The
attitude of the association must be one which seeks to provide
support, encouragement, and help to its member groups. It can do
this by creating an atmosphere in which all groups feel accepted,
free from criticism, and needed to help in achieving common goals.
It can encourage development of weak groups by exchange of
ideas among the various groups—of ways difficulties were
overcome in successful groups. And it can provide direct services
to the weak groups by studies, coaching of leadership, assistance

by professional staff workers, etc. There must be consistent effort to

help groups achieve cohesion and capacity to function
independently. This may well mean applying the concept of
community organization in the life of the weak group so that they
become involved in identifying their problems and begin themselves
to resolve these diflBculties.
THE ASSOCIATION SHOULD BE FLEXIBLE IN ITS

ORGANIZATIONAL PROCEDURES VVTTHOUT DISRUPTING
ITS REGULAR DECISION-MAKING ROUTINES
We have emphasized the importance of accepted "rules of order"

and methods of procedure which, as they become established,
create a sense of security in the operation of association business.
186
To suggest flexibility is not to argue for disruption of these

established procedures. These latter, especially in respect to
decision making, must remain inflexible if active interest and
participation are to be maintained. But within these established
procedures there is opportunity for use of a variety of methods. At
one point a specialist may be consulted; at another point a group of
knowledgeable people from the community may be involved; at
another point all the members of one of the participating groups
may be invited to contribute because of their special interest in the
problem under discussion; at several times the ofiicial meeting may
adjourn to become a committee of the whole; on other occasions
the association may authorize studies, make visits, appoint
commissions; each spring the association may decide to move to a
camp for a week-end meeting on some special problem. A great
variety of patterns for acquiring data and consensus may be used
without, at any point, taking responsibility away from the group

charged with decision making.
THE ASSOCIATION SHOULD DEVELOP A PACE FOR ITS

WORK RELATIVE TO EXISTING CONDITIONS IN THE
COMMUNITY
The concept of pace has two connotations here. One refers to the
pace which the association develops for its own work, and the
second to the pace of life which exists in the community and which
will condition the tempo of a community program.
As to the first, the association must acquire a pace for its own work.
This develops as members learn to work together, as procedures
are established, and as agreement comes as to accepted
responsibilities. Some groups will meet weekly, others monthly;
some will expect subcommittees to report at each meeting of the
major association, others will be content with an annual report;
some groups will expect members to assume heavy
responsibihties, others vdll assign heavy duty to staff members and
consider themselves mainly responsible for policy decisions.
Whatever the tempo and responsibilities may be, they need to be
understood throughout the
187
association so that a pace for work becomes established. There

requires to be a pulsation in the organization which all members
feel and to which all adjust. Failing this, there will be disorder, if not
chaos, with parts of a plan being carried forward without any
conception of the whole, or with different parts of the plan emerging
without coherence. Establishment of major objectives with minor
objectives assigned, all with agreed-upon time schedules, may help
to bring about a pace of work in the association to which all adjust.
There tends to be in many associations a pace which requires

consistent and intensive work on one project following another.

While the advantage of always having before it a project which
catches and holds the interest of all members and groups is
obvious, it may well be that the pattern of "withdrawal and return"
would be more useful for many associations. That is, it may be
desirable to accomplish one community project, to take time to
celebrate this successful achievement, to relax, to meditate before
continuing. Such a rhythm may be, in the long run, more
productive, more meaningful, and closer to the needs of people
than the steady (and heavy) pace of work which often becomes
routine and monotonous.
It is the existing pace in the community, and the pace at which a

community will involve itself in a community venture, that are
perhaps most important. Many workers in the community field-
technical experts, social workers, mental health experts—are what
can only be termed "eager beavers." They are ambitious for their
community, impatient for results, anxious to induce change. In case
work, the importance of adapting treatment procedures to the pace
which the client finds comfortable and feasible is clearly
recognized. The same principle applies in community organization.
One begins at the point at which the client is at the present time
and works at his pace. Rimrock and Homestead (see Chapter 4)
are entirely different communities, and the worker in community
organization who expects to begin at the same level, and to
proceed at the same pace, in these two communities is entirely
unrealistic.
Further, almost any community project, even though it implies a
188
relatively simple development, requires adjustment not only to this

obvious change but to the eflFects of this change on other aspects

of the culture. A relatively simple change like introduction of a water
system in a village requires decisions as to outlets for homes,
gardens, and cattle, and each of these affects existing behavior
patterns. A welfare council may wish unification of all the
counseling services in the community, but this requires decisions
regarding the professional staff of each service, the different fee
policies of the various agencies, the clients who prefer one agency
as against a central agency, the loyalty of committees to each
single service, etc. To work out not merely the change, but the
implications of the change, requires a good deal of time in any
situation, but the time period needed will depend on the disposition
and capacity of the people making the change. To press for
change, or a series of changes, may be simply to overload or
overwhelm those expected to make the changes, and may result in
frustration, withdrawal, or active resistance on the part of those
affected.
If these changes are to be worked through, the community must be

thoroughly involved. The degree to which this latter is possible and
the pace at which it occurs depend on prior relations between
groups, attitudes towards the community, the strength of the
association, and its leadership. Pace must be adjusted to these
realities. But even when these factors are all favorable, more time
is required than is ordinarily expected. For what is involved in the
community organization process is change in the whole culture—
people and their ways of behaving must change—and if this is to be
worked through so that the experience of change is a constructive
growing experience for the participants, a good deal of time is
required, and this time must be determined indigenously rather than
by some external agent.
The structure of the association in which leaders of various groups

are involved in determining what project shall be worked upon, in

what way, and at what speed, provides for realism in respect to

pace. On the whole, such leaders will select projects that have
meaning and will estabhsh a pace that is consistent with that
189
of the community and comfortable for it. Yet people involved in

identifying and planning for action in respect to community
problems often develop a readiness for action that is not shared by
those who are less deeply involved in the planning process. At such
points adjustments must be made, the association must slow down,
must help the community develop a similar readiness for action.
Times of crisis, of conflict, of stress may of course be times when
the pace may be stepped up, when speedy action is required and
demanded. But here again, the knowledge of members of what is
traditional, what is acceptable, what pace is feasible in particular
situations is the most effective guide as to what can be done.
The implication of a good deal of the above is that movement is

slow, and particularly so if people in the community are to
participate and develop a project that is to facilitate community
integration. All this is true. Yet people like to have immediate
satisfaction; there are fewer today who are content with a "wait and
see" philosophy, most want to "live today." ^ Thus there is likely to
be a good deal of dissatisfaction with long-term projects, projects
which require a good deal of work, but the results of which will not
be seen for some time. Months of planning, negotiating, referring
matters back to subgroups becomes wearisome, and there is little
achievement to sustain morale. Here it seems important for
someone (probably the professional worker) to act as interpreter, to
emphasize foresight of consequences, to picture that which may
eventually be accomplished. Further, the program of an association
might well be developed as a novelist develops the major and
minor themes in his book. There is one major theme that sustains

interest throughout, yet each chapter has some unique

development which is of interest in itself. Similarly the organization
may have a long-term objective which will take a year to achieve,
and the group will work toward this end; but meetings may be more
satisfying if, in addition to discussion of progress in respect to this
major objective, there are other smaller projects or interesting
developments which provide
s Robert S. Lynd, Knowledge for What? Princeton University Press,

1948, p. 9L
190
some sense of immediate achievement. Short- and long-term

targets, clearly differentiated, may constitute a useful strategy for
the work of a community association.
THE ASSOCIATION SHOULD SEEK TO DEVELOP EFFECTIVE

LEADERS
Primarily, we are concerned here with development of those kinds

of leaders who will facilitate the community organization process,
who will help the central association to be productive, and who will
contribute to development of morale both in the association and in
the community.'^
If there is one common fact that is being discovered about

leadership, it is that it is a complex role with a multiplicity of
functions, and with many changing and interacting forces
determining what is appropriate behavior in this role. In fact, it may
be useful to ask whether there is ever one leader in a group, or
whether it is not more accurate to suggest that while there may be
one central figure, there are actually many persons contributing to

the leadership of the group. Bales ^ has shown, for example, that in
most small work groups there need to be both a "popular leader"
and a "task leader." The latter presses to keep the group engaged
in its work, but his consistent pressure for decision and work on the
part of the group tends to provoke irritation and to injure the unity of
the group. The "popular leader" or the "best-liked person" helps to
maintain and to restore group unity and to keep the members of the
group happy. Two such leadership functions. Bales suggests, are
seldom found in one person. But where these two types of leaders
recognize and accept each other's role and work together for group
ends, they constitute a strong leadership team. It may well be, as
research proceeds in this field, that it will be found that there are
many leadership functions, which must usually be assumed by
someone
« For an excellent discussion of this topic, see Cecil A. Gibb,

"Leadership," Handbook of Social Psychology, Gardner Lindzey
(ed.), Addison-Wesley, 1954, pp. 877-921.
7 R. F. Bales, Quarterly Report, Carnegie Corporation, New York,

October 1953, p. 1.
191
other than the "central figure" in the group. Some group members
may assume leadership functions in matters of content or special
kinds of content; others may assume leadership functions in
matters of process or special aspects of process; some may
perform special leadership functions in respect to special aspects of
both content and process. This does not do away with the value
and functions of a central figure in the group, but it suggests that he
does not perform all the leadership functions, and indeed, that the
leadership functions he does perform depend also upon the
leadership capacities of members of the group of which he is the

chairman or central figure.
It seems clear, though, that however much the leadership functions

are distributed in the group, the central figure or chairman or formal
leader will facilitate group productivity when he is accepted and
supported by members of the group. We have already referred to
Eisenstadt's research and the importance it seems to place on the
positively identified leader in terms of group cohesion (see Chapter
4). Another small study, which tested for some differences in
thirteen groups in which formal leaders were accepted and
supported, and in which formal leaders were not supported,
showed:
On every criterion of eflFective group functioning as measured by

the participant observers' ratings, the mean ranks of the strong
formal leadership groups were higher than weak formal leadership
groups. The mean ranks of the former were at least two positions
higher in volume of participation, usefulness of suggestions, extent
of participation, degree of cooperation, and assumption of
responsibility.^
It may well be that effective groups contribute to the development of

"strong leaders," but in any case, it seems clear that there is an
association between cohesion and productiveness in group life and
leaders that are accepted and supported.
The central figures who recognize the varied nature of the leader-
8 Neal Gross, William E. Martin, John G. Darley, "Studies of Group

Behavior: Leadership Structures in Small Organized Groups," The
Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, Vol. 48, No. 3, p. 431
(July 1953).
192

ship role and ensure that it is decentrahzed so that many persons

in the group assume various aspects of this role apparently secure
consistently better results in terms of group productiveness and
cohesion. Cartwright and Zander, in summarizing a number of
studies in this area, write:
All of the leaders in these experiments were externally imposed

upon the group, but even so those leaders who tended to distribute
the functions of leadership more widely obtained group
performances generally regarded as "better" in our society. When
production was measured, it was higher. When interpersonal
aflFect was measured, it was more friendly. And when
cohesiveness was measured, it was stronger.^
Similarly it is reported that leaders who encourage participation,

who do not impose their ideas, enjoy better results than supervising
leaders who manage the production of group discussions.
The restilts indicate that the participatory style of leadership was

more eflFective than die supervisory style in creating changes in
attitudes. Members of groups with participatory leadership were
also more satisfied with the meetings, more interested in the task,
found the groups more friendly and enjoyable, and were more
productive.^"
On the surface, the evidence here seems to be complete and

definitive. Yet it must be emphasized that productive work does not
depend solely on the central figure and the way he performs. The
character of the group is a factor of equal importance. Just as every
leader affects the group, so does every member afifect the group
and the leader. One rather intensive study of sixteen groups in
which membership was rotated so that each member worked in five
different groups at a variety of tasks concludes:

Relationships were found, indicating that individual members

significantly affect the characteristics of small groups. In general it
was found that effective group functioning was facihtated by
cooperativeness, efficiency, and insight, while behavior which we
have called "striving for
8 Cartwright and Zander (eds.), op. cit., p. 544. 10 Ihid., p. 548.
193
individual prominence" reduced group cohesiveness and

friendliness . . . mature, accepting persons facilitate while
suspicious nonaccepting persons depress group characteristics
indicative of smooth functioning.^^
Thus each individual member of the group affects group

productiveness and cohesion. And one might logically expect that
distribution of leadership functions throughout the group would
increase the influence of the individual member on these group
characteristics. It may well be, therefore, that in community
organization what is required is less training of individuals in the
community and more training of groups to the end that all members
of these groups will cooperatively define their roles, learn to
coordinate these with others, and implement them with skill.
Some support for this suggestion comes from another study which
raises serious questions as to whether all groups everywhere will
function more effectively with permissive, or sharing of, leadership.
This study, of seventy-two small decision-making conferences in
business, industry, and government, summarizes its findings as
follows:
(1) There is a general expectation in the present population of

groups maintaining that the socially designated leader, the
chairman, should be the sole major behavioral leader. . . . (a)

Leadership sharing by members other than the designated leader

tends to be related to a decrease in group cohesiveness and
satisfaction with the meeting over the entire sample of groups, and
in groups with more and less permissive leaders, (b) These results
also hold in groups contrasted on whether the leadership sharing is
generally supporting or less supporting of the chairman.^2
Thus it may be that the customs and expectations of the group may
determine how many and what kind of leadership functions
11 William Haythorne, "The Influence of Individual Members on the

Characteristics of Small Groups," The Journal of Abnormal and
Social Psychology, Vol. 48, No. 2, p. 284 (April 1953).
12 Leonard Berkowitz, "Sharing Leadership in Small Decision-

making Groups," The Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology,
Vol. 48, No. 2, p. 238 (April 1953).
194
194 COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION; THEORY AND PRINCIPLES
the central figure or chairman should assume. And if change in the

direction of more or less sharing of leadership functions is to be
made, it should be made with all members of the group actively
participating. Such a process of group training may, as suggested,
be the most realistic and effective means of leadership training.
The implications of these data and speculations for the association

seeking to develop cooperative work in the community are
manifold. First, because of their importance as communication
links, and as status figures in the community, it is essential that the
positively identified leaders (both formal and informal) of the various
groupings of people in the community be involved in the
association. The importance of involvement of these strategic

figures in community organization has already been emphasized.

By the same token, it is important that these subgroup leaders who
constitute members of the association should have as their
chairman or central figure someone whom they will accept and with
whom they can identify. The question of which way this group will
distribute its leadership functions is usually one of great delicacy.
For here we have a group of "recognized leaders," each with his
own conception of leadership, each from a somewhat different
background, each with rather different expectations of how the
chairman should perform. As with other procedures, this must be
worked out by "trial and error," but probably at the conscious level.
This implies conscious awareness of the 'leadership problem,"
articulation of methods used to deal with it, sharing in the
evaluation of results, searching for agreement of the "most effective
way to operate." This will be, in effect, "leadership training," but
leadership training at the group level, where all participate and
where the processes of identifying and assigning leadership
functions may increase leadership skills and strengthen group
cohesion. Various new techniques such as the use of the observer,
"feedback" procedures, use of sound recorders, and other devices,
may greatly facilitate the development, and have as yet hardly been
used in this, the most complex group relationship in the community.
195
THE ASSOCIATION MUST DEVELOP STRENGTH, STABILITY,

AND PRESTIGE IN THE COMMUNITY
Community organization is a process which moves toward

increasing cooperation among communit)' groups as the latter deal
with common community projects. At best this is an intricate, and at
times vague, concept. It requires to be made more meaningful to
the community, and this can be accomplished in part at least by the
successful achievements of the association, by persistent and

consistent interpretation, and by the high prestige of the

association, be it a council, committee, or board. The association
can become a symbol of community cooperation. The people in this
association, and the way the association functions, can represent
the actuality of the idea for many people in the community. If it is to
do this effectively, the association must have strength both in terms
of its involvement of accepted group leaders and in terms of its
ability to work through difficult community problems. Such an
association will win the participation and support of the people, and
will become a symbol which stands for, and induces further,
community cooperation.
Needless to say, there are many difficulties that confront such an

achievement. To paraphrase Myrdal, it can be said that the
psychological impediments to overcome in making community
cooperation more effective are all concerned with how to get
leaders, and behind them their groups, and ultimately all the
peoples, to experience allegiance to the common cause, and to do
this when, in fact, community cooperation is so weak. For while, on
the one hand, the main means of fostering this larger allegiance is
the actual experience of cooperation, cooperation cannot develop
except with allegiance as a basis. This is the eternal problem of
man and his institutions. The institutions preserve human attitudes
fitting them, but such attitudes develop only in response to living in
the institutions themselves. This is the basic sociological diflBculty
in community cooperation,^^
13 Gunnar Myrdal, "Psychological Impediments to EfiFective

International
196
This is to say, the association will be a symbol for loyalty only when

it has enough loyalty to make it a worthy symbol. But these are not
separate achievements; they grow and emerge together. The
association begins with a minimum of security and loyalty; as it
proceeds and distrust diminishes and self-confidence develops,
loyalty and allegiance increase, which feed into the association,
leading to more impressive achievements, which in turn lead to
increased status, which in turn makes it a more worthy object for
loyalty, etc. This is the history of many such institutions. But the
achievement of status as a worthy symbol comes slowly and only
as people learn to work together, taste the satisfaction of
cooperative endeavor, enjoy success, find common values and
rituals to express these values, begin to achieve insight into the
process in which they are participating.
One of the fundamental aspects of this development is the

relationship of the association and the groups whose leaders
constitute the members of the association. If the association
becomes a competitor of, or takes over projects or activities that
traditionally belong to, groups in the community, the opportunities
for cooperative work are greatly reduced. People in a free society
do not cooperate when they are threatened. And an association
which threatens in any way the existence of certain traditional
groups becomes not an object for loyalty but an object of suspicion.
Ways must be found, therefore, to clarify this relationship; the
association exists to carry on planning only in those areas which
members agree represent common concern and suitable fields for
cooperative work. If this is understood, if the atmosphere of the
association meetings is accepting and noncritical, and if support is
provided for the activities of subgroups, the chances for cooperative
work are thereby improved.
As in all associations, but perhaps to a greater extent in community

groups because of their heterogeneous membership, the
association established for cooperative work must be prepared for

outbursts of hostility, scapegoating, threats of withdrawal and re-

Cooperation," The Journal of Social Issues, Supplement Series No.
6, pp. 29-31 (1952).
197
prisals, and failures. Jaques' admonition here is that these incidents

cannot be avoided; that they must usually be worked through, since
to attempt to avoid them merely postpones their eventual
disposition; and that only through self-understanding will a group be
able to achieve cohesion and productiveness. Reluctance to deal
frankly with such problems is being overcome at Glacier Metal
Works by:
. . . first, the growing recognition that problems which are not

tackled directly are expressed indirectly and cause even more
trouble and disruption; second, the experience that difficulties in
group relationships can be successfully tackled and worked-
through. . . .^*
The result is that:
Once a group has developed insight and skill in recognizing forces

related to status, prestige, security, authority, suspicion, hostility,
and memory of past events, these forces no longer color
subsequent discussion nor impede progress to the same extent as
before. Dealing with them accounts for a smaller part of the group's
activities, absorbs less of its energies, and allows it to handle more
effectively those issues which are on the written agenda.^^
If, therefore, the association can undertake a process which leads

to some degree of self-understanding, it can anticipate a great
release of creative effort in its work. But such a process cannot be
recommended without reservation to community groups. It would
be an unusual community group that would not require highly

skilled professional help in this process. In other words, what

Jaques is describing is a technical process which can (we believe)
be engaged in only with competent professional help. With this help
it can undoubtedly lead, as it did at Glacier, to significant results.
Without this help many associations must learn to withstand the
storms and stresses of operation by the strength of the bonds
which hold them together. The individual with sufficient ego
strengjth can withstand many shattering experiences without
therapy and without understanding their nature, cause, or effect.
Similarly an organi-
^* Jaques, op. cit., p. 296. 15 Ibid., pp. 307-308.
198
zation can develop sufficient strength through conviction about its

purpose, mutual friendship and respect among its members,
confidence in its capacity to fuffill its purpose, to be able to endure
many difficulties. To face internal and external expressions of fear
and hostility with full understanding is undoubtedly preferable, but
to engage upon a search for such understanding prematurely and
without skill may be a completely shattering experience. The
association without highly skilled professional help should seek,
therefore, to build those bonds of friendship, respect, acceptance,
and conviction of purpose which will permit it to endure and
overcome attacks from within or outside the organization.
An example of this strength is the reaction of the Y.M.C.A.'s in

North America to the criticisms of their work with the armed
services in the first world war. These criticisms were extensive,
found both outside and inside the Y.M.C.A., and were extremely
damaging in nature. Those not near the center of the Y.M.C.A.
could hardly realize how devastating were these attacks nor how

close they came to stimulating panic. Yet the Y.M.C.A. survived,

and with remarkably little difficulty in light of the severity of the
attacks. And it survived without ever clearly understanding what
had happened, what caused the focusing of hostility on the
Y.M.C.A., why some members within the organization suddenly
turned upon the organization. But it was able to survive because of
simple but remarkable strengths. The Y.M.C.A. was almost
completely decentralized in Canada and the United States. Thus
one might criticize the Y.M.C.A., but the fifty men responsible for
the Y.M.C.A. in Sydney or Akron, or Regina or Boston could see no
justffication for the criticism in light of their own work, and rose to
support what they had themselves built. The Y.M.C.A. also
speciaHzed in "fellowship" (a term now in disrepute) which
emphasized warm, intimate, friendly relations in Y.M.C.A. work, and
this led to strong personal bonds within the organization. Third was
the conviction about, and loyalty to, the purpose of the organization.
There were other factors but these were perhaps primary. And
while the Y.M.C.A. never understood the nature of the attack, nor
199
did they make anything more than fumbhng efforts to meet it, the
organization had sufficient strength to withstand the difficulties. For
the most part it accepted the attack with indifference and "Christian
charity" and went on with its postwar work.^*^
Many organizations "hve through" such experiences just as famihes

endure periods of stress. It is undoubtedly true that this could be
done more effectively with insight into the sources of stress. But
insight is not a substitute for existing strengths in an organization,
bonds of friendship and affection, feeling of responsibility,
conviction about purpose. Perhaps, therefore, the community
association must begin by seeking to build upon its common
purpose, its shared feeling about community problems, its

conviction that the community can work together, its vision of the
future. These are fundamental bonds of strength. From this
foundation the association moves into a process of self-education
in which it learns to develop procedures, its members begin to
understand and accept one another, it has success and failure and
it seeks to understand each, it takes on additional responsibilities
and grows in doing so, its leaders and its members become more
knowledgeable about the community, themselves, and how to work
together. The result of this process is a gradually maturing
association and community. With skilled professional help,
members may begin to understand why certain items on the
agenda always seem difficult, why there is always heated
discussion around Mr. M's report, why a few leaders never seem to
become part of the association. As the association goes through
this process, creative energies are released, the association moves
with new freedom and confidence.
16 This theme is developed in my book The Y.M.C.A. in Canada,

Ryerson Press (Toronto), 1951, pp. 291-294.
200
The Role of the Professional Worker
In this chapter we will attempt to develop a conception of the

worker's role, and we will do this by elaborating a point of view
about the role as a whole which should guide all that the
professional worker does. If this gestalt is understood, the worker's
function in any situation will be clear. There may remain the
question of how he should perform a particular function, but if our
conception of the worker's role is adequately conveyed, there
should be no question of what his role or function should be in any
situation.
In the sections that follow we will discuss the role of the

professional worker (a) as a guide, (b) as an enabler, (c) as an

expert, and (d) as a therapist.
THE ROLE OF GUIDE
PRIMARY ROLE
The primary role of the professional worker in community

organization is that of a guide who helps the community ^ establish,
and
1 We assume, when we use a phrase such as this, that the worker

is dealing
200
201
find means of achieving, its own goals. The role of a guide

connotes here a person devoted to helping the community move
effectively in the direction it chooses to move. The guide has some
responsibility to help the community choose this direction
intelligently, with due consideration of many factors of which he (the
guide) may be aware because of his expert knowledge. But the
choice of direction and method of movement must be that of the
community. This means that the professional worker does not
under any circumstances use the community for his own ends,
manipulate people, or coerce action.
Yet the professional worker does not operate without biases of

what should be done and how it should be done in and by the
community. He may well be convinced that a certain project is
essential for community development, he may stimulate a feeling of
need in respect to this project, he may encourage discussion of the
project, and he may suggest the advantages of action on such a

project. But the professional worker is aware of his bias, controls it,
and moves only when and to the degree the people in the
community are ready for such action. His preference for certain
projects or for certain lines of action in the community is always
placed behind his primary goal of helping the community function
effectively in respect to its needs. And these latter, he recognizes,
must be defined by the community. He is aware that the process by
with the community when he is working with the leaders of the

major subgroups in a particular community. Thus we do not imply
the possibility, nor the need, for the technical expert to work with
every person in an Indian village, for example. Neither does the
welfare council secretary need to deal with every member of every
agency in the welfare community. Rather do we suggest that the
technical expert regards the village as a whole, and that he works
with this whole as he works with a council composed of the formal
and informal leaders of the village. Similarly, the welfare council
secretary deals with his community as he is able to view the welfare
community as a whole, and as he is able to work with the leaders of
the various welfare groups in a particular locality. We assume, as
has been pointed out before, that when leaders who truly represent
the feelings and attitudes of the major groups in a community come
together, the primary and principal forces in the life of the
community are represented in this association.
202
which these needs are identified is an essential aspect of the

process by which a community may gradually develop capacity to
recognize and deal with its problems.
A British Colonial oflBcer provided the writer with an illustration that

is useful at this point. This officer was sent to a village by a senior

administrative oflBcer to help and encourage the people there to

introduce a new crop, which it was felt would provide the villagers
with a higher crop yield and financial income. He began to work
with the villagers in a manner somewhat like that suggested here,
i.e., by exploring with the villagers their conception of their need.
The problem that arose was that, as the people expressed their
views, it became evident that what they wanted first was a new
water system and that they felt no need or wish to change the
nature of their crops. The ofiicer was convinced that the present
water supply was adequate, that the new crop was essential, and
perhaps most important that his superior oflBcer would not be
happy with anything less than the change in crops advocated. In
this conflict between what seemed like a good principle and a
required course of action, he ventured to adhere to the principle. He
encouraged the people to organize and deal with the problem of
water supply, which they did with enthusiasm and success. The
following year, with his help, a group of villagers traveled some
distance to another village where the recommended crop was
growing. So impressed were they with this crop that they returned
and produced the new crop with great success in their own village.
The fact that over the years this village developed great capacity for
change and dealing with its own problems is only partly relevant at
this point. The question is whether the oflBcer should have insisted
(as he had the legal authority to do) on what he knew was "right" or
whether he should have followed the principle of accepting the
judgment of the people on what they considered important. Our
view is that the professional worker helps the community to explore
its discontents; the worker has the right, if not the obligation, to
indicate his own conception of what are legitimate and reasonable
discontents or objectives; but he has not the right (nor should he
wish) to
203

impose his conception of need or objective, nor to ask that it be

explored to any greater extent than that of any problem, discontent,
or objective suggested by any other individual in the community.
There will be those who will suggest that the above does not take
adequate account of communities that are not able accurately to
identify their needs, or of communities that identify needs or
objectives that the "expert" knows are invalid. The officer in the
illustration above felt he was "right" in recommending the new crop,
but in the final analysis what was "right" in this case was a matter of
judgment, and often the people's judgment is more adequate than
the experts'. There are cases, however, the realists point out,
where "right" is not a matter of judgment. For example, a study of
Crete - showed that nine-tenths of the farmers felt their primary
problem was securing an adequate supply of a particular kind of
fertilizer in which there was a high proportion of potassium. The
experts, who had tested the soil and found quantities of potassium
in it, were agreed that the use of such fertilizer would actually
endanger the productivity of the soil. Is this not a case in which the
worker should insist that his expert knowledge be followed? To the
professional worker such a question is as unrealistic as the
people's desire for harmful fertilizer. For the worker is not simply
concerned with the growth of crops but with the growth of a
sensitivity, of responsibility, of feelings of confidence that "we can
do something about this," of capacity to function cooperatively on
common problems. With such concerns in mind the worker does
not "insist" on any course of action, for he recognizes that such
insistence destroys the very seeds of growth he seeks to nourish.
He will undoubtedly seek to point out the facts of the situation, and
even if they are less obvious than those in respect to agriculture in
Crete, he will have confidence in the ability of the people to make
reasonable decisions. But even if they do not accept the facts as he
portrays them, he recognizes that growth in

2 Leland Allbaugh, Crete, A Study of an Underdeveloped Area,

Princeton University Press, 1953, p. 18.
204
community capacity may involve errors and poor judgment as

necessary aspects of such growth.
The professional worker is committed to a program which respects

the rights, traditions, and desires of the community. He cannot be
the crusading evangelist, the inspired communist, the advocate of
technology, or any person whose ends are defined in terms of a
specific project. The professional worker's objectives are stated in
terms of a particular process in which direction, tempo, and
character of relationships are determined not by the worker, but by
the community.
The professional worker is not averse to encouraging discussion,

asking leading questions, focusing thought, etc. on problems he
believes important. He does not operate completely in terms of
impartial interest and objectivity, but he is controlled by his primary
goals of helping the community itself to become aware of its own
needs and to find the means of working cooperatively at these
needs. His control over his disposition to establish direction and
pace in the community is, of course, a matter of degree. At times he
may unconsciously interfere, use undue influence, or take over the
direction of a project. At other times he may deliberately take a
"calculated risk" and intercede because he recognizes certain
danger signs, or the need for emergency action, of which no one
else in the community is aware. But his basic assumptions in
respect to his work force him to recognize that in the degree to
which he accepts responsibility for content, pace, or action in the
community, in that degree he may be defeating his own purposes.

Thus his work is always being regulated by awareness that at the

point at which he takes responsibility away from the community, the
possibility of learning and growth in the community is thereby
reduced.
INITIATIVE
The role of guide is not one of laissez-faire. Traditionally, the

physician or psychiatrist deals only with people who come for help
(or who are sent for help by law). The professional worker in
205
community organization may not only take the initiative in

approaching a community that has not asked for help, but he may
take the initiative at a number of points in working with any kind of
community. His role of guide, as a person who encourages local
initiative, does not mean that he operates simply as a passive
follower.
Perhaps the worker's most difficult task is with communities which

appear apathetic, disorganized, degenerate. Here the worker faces
the difficult task of stimulating a sense of need for a more adequate
life. Many such communities are content with the status quo. Not
only do they not wish to change, but they resist the possibility of
change with a strong and rigid defense structure. Here the
community worker takes the initiative. The initiative takes the form
not of offering help, but of stimulating a sense of need, of
discontent, of "pain" about existing conditions, and of suggesting
other alternative conditions which may prove to be more rewarding.
Contrary to popular belief, the creation of awareness of the sources
of frustration, the stimulation of need or discontent, the stirring of
feeling of desire for changed conditions in the community is not
necessarily disruptive in long terms. True it creates tension and
some unstability, but these are aspects of movement from a state

of letliargy or apathy. In fact the stirring of consciousness of such

frustration or blockages may often be justly regarded as beneficial.
For it forces the community to reexamine the situation, to consider
alternative ways of community life, and stimulates the community to
find some means of dealing with its problems. It is quite
conceivable that this stirring of feeling in the community may
provide the stimulus and impetus that lead to significant growth.
Certainly in many communities, only such a method will overcome
existing apathy.
In some situations, then, the professional worker may take the

initiative in stirring discontent. But he does so only with some
knowledge of the culture of a people, with awareness of their
potentialities, and with some conception of what the future might
206
206 COMMXJNITY ORGANIZATION: THEORY AND PRINCIPLES
be if the present state of lethargy could be overcome. He

recognizes that the community as a whole will not develop and that
the vast resources of the world, available in some degree to all, will
not be used unless the community itself begins to strive, to move,
to achieve. Therefore he takes the initiative in creating those
conditions which will stimulate indigenous striving. And, as implied
so frequently here, a profound sense of discontent may lead more
eflFectively than any other feeling state to this initial desire to
struggle. Therefore the worker seeks to encourage awareness of
problems which may well lie latent, to bring these into the open, to
permit negative expressions of feeling as a necessary prerequisite
to more positive hopes, to encourage the first positive hopes, and
to stimulate organization to channel and focus desires for action. In
all this he may take the initiative. But, as implied, if he is to adhere
to the objectives of his profession, he will not impose his own views

of what specific discontents must be worked upon. He seeks to stir

consciousness of existing conditions, to encourage initiative, to
begin a process.
Even in the "healthy" community, the worker may be required to

take the initiative in respect to these matters. For not only will he
need to stir discontent among the complacent, but he may need to
point out conditions to which the community has become so
accustomed that it does not recognize these conditions as
inconsistent, unhealthy, or weakening. The Colonial ofiicer
previously referred to in this chapter accepted the judgment of the
people in the community, but he did not cease to urge their
consideration of a problem that they may have lived with for so
many generations that they were neither aware of it as a problem
nor had they any desire to recognize it as a problem. In such
matters the worker may take the initiative, but he does not insist on
his interpretation, his understanding, his method. He interrogates,
exchanges views, explains his position, introduces his facts. He
initiates a process of decision making but recognizes that this
process may not always eventuate in the acceptance of his views.
207
OBJECTIVITY
The professional worker tries to be objective about conditions in the

community. In this respect he is similar to the psychiatrist, who
recognizes symptoms for what they are—expressions of deep-
seated difficulties—and is more interested in causal factors and the
treatment of these than in approving or disapproving certain
symptomatic behavior. Without being content with existing
conditions, the worker can accept the situation as it is. He does not
criticize, make comparisons that cast the community in an
unfortunate light, nor act in ways which suggest he himself is from a

superior community or group. He understands that ignorance,

vested interests, rigid beliefs and customs, aggression and hostility,
inconsistent behavior, are found in every community. These are all
part of his field. He accepts these as inevitable aspects of
community life, and as forces with which he will have to deal in
himself as well as in the community. They are factors that add both
to the complexity and to the interest of his task.
As implied, the professional worker, certainly in the initial phases of

his work in a community, expresses no feeling about conditions in
the community. He neither praises nor blames. For to do either may
be to strike at sensitive spots in community life and to destroy his
usefulness. But as he proceeds in the community, as he comes to
understand its nature, and to know its people, he may begin to
identify for his own use (1) aspects of the community which he must
simply accept and not in the foreseeable future even raise as topics
for discussion, e.g., a deep-rooted religious controversy in which a
working pact has been secured before his arrival in the community;
(2) areas of community life which are both "weak spots" and "blind
spots," and which, as he himself becomes accepted, he can afford
to raise as topics for discussion—e.g., traditional use of certain
fields which are always used for the same crop, a practice which is
ruining these fields; concentration of leadership roles in a few
people; "starvation" of one or more ethnic groups by excluding them
from the social life and organization of the com-
208
munity; (3) characteristics of community life which he can and

should praise—e.g., successful cooperative projects in the past;
indications of good will and willingness to cooperate with other
groups; strivings to define or come to grips with community

problems; efforts to achieve self-understanding in the community

association, etc.; (4) groups or efforts in the community which
require his support—e.g., the small ethnic group struggling for
recognition and acceptance; the deliberate efforts of the community
association to find agreement and a modus operandi.
This is to imply, that while the worker in community organization

may accept the community as it is, he works consistently towards
his objective of involving members of the community in a process of
working on their conception of community problems. He is, in the
beginning, reluctant to express feelings of commendation or
disapproval of any aspects of community life, but as his
understanding of the community grows, he identifies problems
which he feels may be raised for discussion and areas of life in the
community to which encouragement and support may be given. But
even in this latter he is careful to recognize the importance of
timing—that some items must not be mentioned for many months,
while other items may be raised for discussion in the near future.
IDENTIFICATION WITH COMMUNITY
Consistent with the above, the professional worker in community

organization identifies (i.e., associates) with the community as a
whole rather than with any one part of it, or group in it. Thus the
worker resists being "captured" or used by one group or class in the
community. He seeks to understand and establish good relations
with groups that are suspicious of him or tend to reject him. He tries
not to be part of a "left wing" or "right wing," of a higher or lower
class, with advocates of socialized medicine or advocates of private
enterprise in the health field. He identifies himself with the
community, with democratic methods of discussion, with problems
and projects which the community association has agreed upon.
209

His role does not lead him to support the advocates of new
highways as opposed to those who wish a new swimming pool. His
function does not require him to recommend this project as against
that, nor to support one group against another. His primary task is
that of helping people discover and use processes by which
cooperative decisions are made. He may present factual data,
experiences from other communities which have had similar
problems, he may provide other kinds of resource material, but he
does not insist on a particular course of action. His special
expertness is in bringing diverse groups together, in clarifying
issues, enlarging the area of common concern in the community, in
establishing processes and procedures by which a community can
make a collective decision. If he is to function effectively in this role,
he cannot be a partisan of one group, or one project, or one
organization. He is an advocate of certain community processes,
certain methods of community work, a certain type of community
association. With these procedures and the outcome of these
procedures he identifies himself, and this involves identification with
the community as a unit.
ACCEPTANCE OF ROLE
The professional worker in community organization must learn to

accept, and be comfortable in, his role. A great deal of discipline is
required to operate in this role; and it may be added, the worker
who does not function comfortably in this role, with its strict
limitations, should learn to do so or not continue in this field. There
is seldom an hour in which the professional is at work in the
community that he is not tempted to forsake this role. At a meeting
he will be asked, "What would be the best project for us this year?"
"What is the most important thing for us to do now?" The temptation
is to pass judgment, to set the group on the course the worker is
certain is right, to provide the answers. But to do so is to forsake
the role of the professional worker. He may provide data upon

which a judgment can be made, he may summarize and
210
clarify various arguments and points of view, he may point out the
implications of different courses of action, he may even suggest
alternatives which have not previously been considered—but he
does not himself recommend or urge a particular course of action.
These latter are decisions with which the community itself must
struggle. By providing a solution, the worker denies the validity of
the process which assumes that communities grow in capacity as
they strive to achieve consensus.
Again, an occasion may arise in which the community association

decides to approach a higher government body for help, and the
professional worker is asked to lead a delegation from the
community. Again this is tempting. But under ordinary
circumstances, the professional worker will refuse. He may appear
with the delegation, he may help them to prepare, he may support
them in other ways. But his function is to help the community
accept and undertake responsibihty. His role does not involve
taking the major aspect of this responsibility away from the
community. The professional worker who yields to the temptation
presented by these situations, who yearns to be the "recognized
leader," who wants to "run the show," who craves recognition for
"his part" in the work, does not belong in this field and cannot
succeed in terms of the objectives outlined here. ^>
INTERPRETATION OF ROLE
The professional worker must learn to interpret his role so that it is

understood in the community. This he has to do, persistently and
consistently, in a great variety of situations. It will be only after a

considerable period of time, during which the people of the

community will attempt to change his role many times, that his role
will be understood and accepted—and then only if the professional
person has interpreted and performed consistently and well. In the
illustrations provided above, the professional worker has excellent
opportunities to interpret to the persons present what precisely is
his role. In explaining why he cannot be "the leader" or
211
make the decision, or recommend the "right" course of action, the

worker can, without being pedantic, indicate the importance of the
community's assuming responsibihty for its decisions and actions,
and the pecuhar role of the worker in assisting the community in its
tasks. There will be many such opportunities which the alert worker
will use to suggest what he conceives his responsibility to be. But
here, as in psychiatry, in research, in various kinds of consultative
roles, there appears to be a testing process initiated by those being
served. They wish a different function performed. This is their real
need. They are unhappy about the kind of help they are getting,
etc. But if the professional worker continues accepting this
discontent, is not affected by hostility directed at him, remains firm
as to the areas in which he can help, there will gradually be
developed a frame of reference within which he and the community
can work comfortably together.
THE ENABLER ROLE
In general terms, the role of the enabler is simply to facilitate the

community organization process. But this role is as varied and
complex as each situation with which the worker deals. The
following generalizations, however, may illuminate this role
somewhat.
FOCUSING DISCONTENT

The professional worker helps or enables, by awakening and

focusing discontent about community conditions. Most people have
such discontents, although for many they may be deeply
submerged, and for others they may be projected on a scapegoat
of some kind. The task of the worker is to help people verbalize
their discontents. For some, these discontents are so deeply buried
that a good deal of skill and patience is required to facilitate
expression, for others verbalization of discontent will bring a flood
of hostility directed at some minority group, for others the problems
revealed will be those which generally come under the heading of
212
"personal problems." The worker must be skilled in dealing with the

withdrawn, he must permit the flood of negative and hostile
expressions of feeling (which is often a prerequisite to more
positive expressions); he must be able to help individuals and
groups see that many of their "personal" problems are "social"
problems (i.e., if there is only one working mother in the community
who has a problem of caring for her child while she works, this is a
personal problem, but if there are twenty such mothers, there may
well be a community or social problem). The worker must proceed
on the assumption that constructive forces of good will and
cooperation exist and that it is his task to release them. Primarily,
as implied, he does this by encouraging verbalization, by patient
listening, by skillful interrogation. Gradually he seeks to focus
thought on problems which seem to be shared in the community. At
first he acts as a communication link, e.g., "There are some people
who feel if we could only secure playgrounds for children in this part
of the city, we'd be doing something important. Do you think this
might be so?" Gradually as some problems become focused, he
attempts to bring diverse groups together for discussion of these

matters.
The worker's role at this point is that of a catalytic agent. He is not a

salesman who sells the people a plan and a way of attaining a plan.
He is a person who helps people look at themselves, to look below
the surface and probe their deepest feelings about community life.
He encourages verbalization of these feelings, he helps people see
the commonality of their feelings, he nourishes the hope that
something can be done collectively about these. As feelings and
consciousness of common problems begin to crystalHze, the
worker functions in a way that will support efforts to come together,
to organize, to deal with these problems.
One serious and frequent error of professional workers is to

encourage undue optimism about the quick and easy success a
community can achieve. Part of his task as an enabler is to help
people see the nature of their discontents, the deep roots of many
of these discontents, their interrelationship, and the difficult blocks
213
to overcoming some community problems. While the worker

encourages and supports eflForts to organize and to deal with
community discontents, he recognizes that unless people view the
problems realistically they are likely to be quickly disappointed with
results.
ENCOURAGING ORGANIZATION
In many communities it is not easy to move toward organization.

Apathy is a socially patterned defect in many urban communities,
and passivity is often the norm. Thus the worker must be prepared
to recognize the community organization process as one which is
often painfully slow. If he is not to "sell," or to lead with unrealizable
dreams of what might be achieved, but rather to help people feel

and identify the problem for themselves, he must be prepared to

move slowly in most situations. But he relies on the assumption that
the process by which the people in the community gradually come
to recognize for themselves that they have common problems,
which can be dealt with only cooperatively, is an essential
foundation for development and growth. Further, he recognizes, as
we have emphasized before, that time taken to discover problems
and discontents which are deeply felt and widely shared will provide
that motivation which may make it possible to work through many of
the difficulties that lie ahead. The first essential task of the enabler,
then, is to initiate and facilitate the process by which discontents
about which most people in the community feel keenly are
identified. From this basis he seeks to establish meaningful
communication about these discontents so that various parts of the
community may come together to rank these discontents and to
begin to organize to deal with them.
But even when the way has thus been well prepared, some
communities falter at the point of organization. Individuals or groups
lack confidence, some fear being related to other individuals or
groups, some feel the new plan or association threatens an
established way of life. Individuals and groups will move only if the
214
new situation holds promise of being more comfortable and

pleasant than the present and/or if they are strongly motivated to
proceed with what they conceive to be a desirable movement. The
degree of readiness at this point will depend on the degree to which
the worker (and others) have prepared people for movement. This
latter will depend, as implied, on the extent of discussion (individual
and group), the depth of feeling of discontent expressed in these

discussions, and the spread of conviction that "something must be

done about this." Even if all these conditions exist, the professional
must provide a good deal of reassurance for those who come to the
point of organization and then falter. Here it may be necessary to
review previous discussion, to raise original questions, to
encourage verbalization about all the points previously discussed,
to recapture the feelings that led to the conception of the idea of
action, and to support the faintest feelings of confidence that what
appear to be overwhelming diflBculties can be overcome. It is, of
course, fatal for the worker to push, to accelerate the pace, to
minimize difficulties at this or at any other point. The approach is
less "Don't worry, everything will be all right" than it is "How do you
feel about the problem we want to work at?" and "How much are we
willing to sacrifice to overcome this problem?" The worker supports,
in the sense that he approves the idea of striving, believes in the
worth of the struggle, feels confident that the community can
achieve its ends, and indicates willingness to work with the group
through the problem. But he does not push or coax or urge action.
To move a community before it is ready to organize and act is often
to increase withdrawal and lack of confidence. The role of enabler
requires judgment, therefore, as to how much encouragement can
be given, how much anxiety reheved, how much support provided.
But it is clear that responsibility for action must he with the
community through its association, it must recognize the possibility
of failure, it must accept responsibility for this eventuahty if it
occurs.
215
NOURISHING GOOD INTERPERSONAL RELATIONS
The professional worker seeks also to increase the amount of

satisfaction in interpersonal relations and in cooperative work. He is
a warming congenial influence in group and community meetings.

This implies a warm, friendly person, sensitive to the deeper

feelings of people, and interested in the "little things" that are
important in the lives of individuals and communities. He is
concerned with meetings in which people feel comfortable, enjoy
themselves, and feel free to verbalize. To this end he is alert not
only to the physical and psychological conditions which make for
such comfort, but seeks to create these conditions and uses his
own self to facilitate these. This means he is adept not only in room
arrangements, introductions, casual conversation, but that he is
sensitive to the process of interaction which goes on in a group and
knows when and how to ask that question which will catch and
focus the interest of the group, when to interpret what is being
attempted, when to praise. People can enjoy working together
when they begin to know one another and sense what they can do
cooperatively. Part of the worker's role is to assure such
satisfaction for the group. i
In the initial stages of work in the community, the worker is often

the only link between diflFerent groups in the area. He is often the
influence that brings these groups together. If the professional
worker is accepted, liked, and trusted, persons identify with him, will
attend meetings he feels are worth while, will accept other people
whom he accepts, will cooperate with others because he approves
of such cooperation. This implies a use of self which some will find
unprofessional or unethical. This should not be so. What the worker
is attempting is not manipulative. He is using his own well-
established contacts as a bridge by means of which different
groups can meet, and because of their confidence in him can meet
in relative security. This is not essentially different from the rapport
which the case worker or psychiatrist attempts to establish with a
216

client so that the latter will feel comfortable and able to talk. What
the worker in the community is seeking is the use of himself not
only to arrange a physical meeting but a meeting in which people
are relatively free to meet one another without fear or suspicion. Of
course, the worker must recognize that the community must not
depend on him permanently to perform such a role, and that he
must gradually shift this responsibility as the people in the
community develop the skill to carry it themselves.
The professional worker in the community field helps to remove or

to circumvent "blocks" to cooperative work. As part of his work he
will seek to understand those intergroup tensions and conflicts,
those vested interests, those class differences which stand in the
way of, or prevent, cooperative work. His method of deaHng with
these difficulties depends a good deal on the level at which he is
capable of working. If he operates as a social therapist (and this
role will be discussed later), he will approach the problem at a level
rather different from a professional worker in community
organization without therapeutic skill. The average worker must rely
on more indirect, and in a sense more superficial, methods for
dealing with such blocks: (1) he attempts to emphasize the
common goals, the binding nature of the task confronting the
community, the common values to which all are dedicated; (2) he
seeks to calm some storms, by clarifying the issues about which
violent disagreement arises, by interpreting varying points of view
so that they are understood by all, by being objective and serene in
crises, by calling upon the reasoned and best judgment of all; (3)
he works directly on some blocks to cooperative work, e.g., he asks
for the support of a high-prestige figure in dealing with a lower-
prestige figure whose neurotic and authoritarian behavior is
expressed in an attack on some groups or individuals or the
process itself; he discusses at length some problems of
organization, or of process, or of feeling, with individuals
separately, attempting to find common ground for an approaching

meeting; he encourages the participation of the withdrawn

nonverbal member; he approaches a talkative person about the
need to encourage others to
217
participate in a meeting that is to be held soon; he helps to calm the

impatient, to speed up the slow, etc. In some situations, depending
upon his own competence and the strength of the group, he may
interpret to the association some of the aspects of community life
which seem to him to prevent or block community work so that the
association may understand and deal with the individual and social
pressures which create tension and separateness. All of these
things he may do as an enabler. As a participant-observer he is
aware of the strains and stresses which may wreck the work in
which the association is involved. Without taking responsibility
away from the association for its central task, he seeks to help the
process by calmness and objectivity; by focusing on common
goals; by analysis and treatment of the causes of tension to the
degree that he and the group are able to handle them.
EMPHASIZING COMMON OBJECTIVES
The professional worker seeks to help so that in the process

consistency is maintained with the objectives of developing both
effective planning and community capacity. He does this usually by
asking relevant questions. "Is it possible to get facts on this point
about which we disagree?" "What will be the effect on City Hall if
we adopt this plan—how will this in turn affect our plan?" "Is there
any place for young people in the planning and development of this
recreation program?" "What will be the result of making a
decision if the representatives of M group are not here? Should
we wait to consult this group?" "What is the relation of this idea to

what we are really trying to do?" And so on. Questions may simply
be of this nature—attempts to remind the group of the need to be
thorough and consistent in its work. This is a technique which may
seem simple but is of great difficulty and requires great skill. People
in a community association tend to get so involved in a particular
task that they lose perspective, although none of their enthusiasm.
The professional worker must maintain his objectivity, must remind
the group of long-term goals, must be willing to raise questions of
218
timing, relationships, content. He must be aware of the whole

community, the whole project, the whole process. He must see the
point in the process where the group now operates and be able to
raise those questions which help the group gain perspective, sense
of movement, and fresh concern with long term objectives. And this
he must do without dampening enthusiasm, offending, or making
the task seem unduly complicated.
As an enabler the worker's role is consistently directed at freeing

the community (through its leaders) to realize its potentialities and
strengths in cooperative work. Primarily (although not entirely) it is
oriented in the direction of helping people (mainly in groups) to
express their concerns about social (as distinct from personal)
problems, to find "common ground" with their fellows in the
community, and to achieve satisfaction in cooperative work. As an
enabler the worker seeks to facilitate the community process
through listening and questioning; through identifying with, and in
turn being the object of identification for, group leaders in the
community; and by giving consistent encouragement and support to
indigenous striving with common problems. He does not lead; he
faciHtates local efforts. He does not provide answers; he has

questions which stimulate insight. He does not carry the burden of

responsibility for organization and action in the community; he
provides encouragement and support for those who do.
THE EXPERT ROLE
As an expert, the worker's role is to provide data and direct advice

in a number of areas about which he may speak with authority. This
does not conflict with his role as an enabler, which is primarily one
of facilitating community process. As an expert, he provides
research data, technical experience, resource material, advice on
methods, which the association may need and require in its
operation. Here he speaks directly, offers content material, makes
direct contributions to the deliberations of the association. What
219
are provided, however, are facts and resources. There is no

recommendation about what the community or its association
should do; there is development and presentation of material which
should help the association make a decision more intelligently. This
distinction is not unlike the variation in the role of the psychiatrist
who consistently seeks to help his patient engage in a process of
identifying, understanding, and overcoming his own problems. In
this process the psychiatrist may play a supporting, helping,
facilitating role. But he may also play the role of an expert, e.g.,
relieving fears by providing facts about homosexuality, brain
tumors, criteria of psychosis, etc. Similarly in community
organization the worker as an enabler plays a "supporting role" but
as an expert he may directly confront the group with facts and
concepts which may be reassuring and helpful to it. There need be
no conflict in these roles, for they should supplement and support
rather than compete with each other. In some respects, the role of
enabler is more subtle, more demanding, and more important. But

the role of expert is useful, and without expert help the community
may stumble unnecessarily.
The kinds of functions performed by the expert may illuminate

somewhat the distinction in roles:
COMMUNITY DIAGNOSIS
The worker may serve as an "expert" in community analysis and

diagnosis. Most communities have little understanding of their own
structure or organization. The worker may be asked about, or may
wish to point out, certain characteristics of the community, neglect
of attention to which may seriously impede the work of the
association. For example, the informal social organization of the
community, the nature of the forces which separate certain groups
in the community, the significance of certain rituals in the lives of
particular ethnic groups, etc., may all need to be understood if
cooperative work is to be secured in the community.
220

RESEABCH SKILL
The worker should also be skilled in research methods, able to

carry on studies on his own, and to formulate research policy.
Frequently a community will find some need for minor research
projects which the worker may pursue. Or a problem may be faced
which requires to be formulated in research terms. The worker
should be able, at least, to make an initial formulation of the
problem, to indicate the scope and nature of the research
undertaking, and if necessary, to work closely with those who may
be engaged to carry out the research project. In sophisticated
communities the worker may not be the most knowledgeable
person in the research field, but it is an area in which he should be

able to speak with confidence, if informed opinion from him is

requested.
INFORMATION ABOUT OTHER COMMUNITIES
In addition, the worker should be informed about research, studies,

and experimental work in other communities. He should be able to
acquaint the community with projects developed elsewhere and
with useful principles derived from these. While the community
must struggle with its own problems, it can learn from others, use
data from experimental work, avoid mistakes made in other
community projects. The worker has some obligation at appropriate
times to feed material derived from other experiences and from his
knowledge in the field.
ADVICE ON METHODS
The worker may also have expert knowledge of methods of

organization and procedure. Local custom will govern practices at
this point to a considerable degree, but the worker can provide a
good deal of useful advice, e.g., making certain all the major
subgroups are represented in the initial stages of organization,
taking time to identify the real leaders of informal groups in the
community, etc.
221
TECHNICAL INFORMATION
The worker should also be well informed and able to provide

resource material on technical plans. That is, he should know
where and how to get material on any project being contemplated,
be it a library, school, health service, roads, or agriculture. This
implies that he knows the resources of government departments,
private agencies, international organizations, and ways of securing

available help in specialized fields. The number and variety of such

resources is, of course, considerable, and the help which can be
provided a local group on a project of almost any kind may save a
good deal of time and effort, if the source of this help is known and
can be used. The worker should be able to bridge the gap between
the resources available and the community's need for such
resources.
EVALUATION
The worker must also be able to provide some evaluation or

interpretation of the process of cooperative work which is being
carried on. The professional worker must be able not only to
understand with objectivity the content of discussion, but also the
process of interaction and the effect of this on individuals and
groups. He should be able to interpret these to the community
without damage and in a way which will increase people's
understanding and ability to operate as a group in the community.
In all these areas the worker may function as an expert, providing

data and resources useful to the group. These are given to the
group to use; they are not offered as final solutions. The worker as
an expert does not insist on acceptance of his "expert knowledge."
This is offered for consideration and discussion, to be used as
effectively as the community is able to adapt it.
THE SOCIAL THERAPY ROLE
Some professional workers in the community function as social

therapists. This is a specialized function illustrated by the work of
222

the Tavistock Institute of Human Relations and by some major

industrial projects in this field. What is involved here is therapy at
the community level. It implies diagnosis and treatment of the
community as a whole. Obviously such treatment must be carried
on through representative groups or leaders, but it may require
these leaders, with the help of the professional worker, to face
many of the underlying forces, the taboo ideas, the traditional
attitudes, which create tension and which separate groups in the
community. If the community is able to recognize these deep-
rooted ideas and practices, verbahze about them, and begin to
cope with them, it may develop a capacity (just as the individual or
group) to function more eflFectively as an integrated unit. The
professional, working at the community level in this way has, of
course, a wider field for diagnosis. He must know the origin and
history of the community as a whole and in its separate parts, he
must understand the social roots of many of the present beliefs and
customs, the association of beliefs and practices, the power
structure of the community, the roles and relationships between
roles established in the community. His diagnosis must provide the
community with some understanding of its nature and character.
His treatment must involve the community in a process in which
self-understanding relieves tension and removes blocks to
cooperative work. The difference in method of the therapist and the
average worker in the field is the deptli and thoroughness of the
analysis and treatment. The social therapist deals with those deep-
lying and often unconscious forces which are constantly (and often
in hidden form) threatening to disrupt the community organization
process.
One brief example of work attempted at this level was the writer's
work with an Israeli Kibbutz.^ While this work was hampered by
lack of time, some of the essential considerations for diagnosis and
treatment of the community as a whole were present.

The Kibbutz (pi. Kibbutzim) is a collective agriculture settlement in

which all members work for the community, possess few
3 Murray G. Ross, "Social Structure and Social Tension in the

Kibbutz," report prepared for UNESCO, 1954.
223
personal goods, receive food, clothing, housing, and health

services, according to their needs and the resources of the
community. All work is planned by the members, tasks are
assigned by elected officials, profits are used for those goods
judged most needed for the community by members in meeting.
Housing is, in most cases, comfortable two-room apartments for
married couples, rooms or dormitories for single persons. All adults
eat in the community dining hall. Children are raised from infancy in
children's houses and are cared for by members assigned to this
task. The children live in small groups, play together, receive their
education in their group, and when old enough (approximately 12
years of age) work a few hours daily at useful community tasks.
They spend several hours daily with parents during week days and
longer periods on Fridays and Saturdays. All services such as
laundry, health, dining hall, recreation, education, etc. are
organized, administered, and in most cases staffed by members of
the community. A general assembly is held every Saturday night at
which committees report and policy is discussed and decided upon.
Tension in a few Kibbutzim was overt at the particular time the

writer visited them (spring and summer of 1953) and an exploration
of the causes of this tension was undertaken. The number and
complexity of causal factors cannot be fully reported here but a
brief summary of some of the factors which were not generally
recognized should suffice to indicate the nature of the diagnosis.
The ideology of the Kibbutz demands great personal sacrifice and

discipline and permits little flexibility. The basic objective of the

Kibbutz is associated with the Zionist idea of "opening the land for
the exiles." This can only be done, people in the Kibbutz believe, by
pioneering on the land, hard work, and a collective (or socialist)
form of community. Development of farms on sand and swamp is,
indeed, a task to try men's souls. To achieve such an objective
requires complete dedication to a specific ideal of the greatest
importance. Associated with this ideal, and symbolic of it, are
certain accepted practices in the Kibbutz. Such practices as
communal raising of children, the community dining hall, rejection
of money
224
224 COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION: TEDEORY AND PRINCIPLES
as a value, heavy manual labor, acceptance of the rugged hard life,

self-labor, etc., are identified with Kibbutz ideology and all have
therefore a halo quality. Any change, or threat of change, in
practices appears to threaten the whole ideal of the Kibbutz and to
suggest that the sacrifice was (or is) less important and necessary
than it once appeared to be. If the sacrifices required are to be
meaningful, the object of sacrifice must not be blurred or distorted.
Change, or threat of change, of "halo practices" thus represents not
merely a change in means; it has the appearance of destroying the
very foundation upon which one has established one's life.
The status of the Kibbutz is changing. In a society as dynamic as

Israel, change is inevitable. One such change is in the status of the
Kibbutz itself. "The opening of the land" was of the greatest
importance some years back, and the pioneers (the Kibbutzers)
were the elite of the Jewish community in Palestine. Now Israel
must industrialize to survive. The Kibbutz is a less significant factor;
it has lost much of its prestige, and city folk often refer to "the odd

people" who live in a Kibbutz. This blow to the status of the Kibbutz
is an especially bitter one. Sacrifice is acceptable when one is sure
of the supreme importance of the task at hand, has reassurance of
this from the nation, or is sure of praise in any case. But when
questions as to the importance of the task arise outside, and begin
to penetrate the community, loyalty and discipline begin to waver,
morale to be weakened.
There is fittle social space in the Kibbutz. Kibbutzim range in size

from 80 to 2000 persons, but the majority are small communities,
the median being probably around 300. Within the Kibbutz
individuals live, eat, work, and play with the same people day after
day. There is httle room for privacy or private hving. It is not only
difficult to be alone; one is constantly surrounded by the same
people. The writer was impressed in many dining halls with the lack
of conversation at mealtimes. Perhaps all topics of conversation
become exhausted after a period; more likely individuals build
psychological walls around themselves to the end that they may
have some privacy. It is well known that tension develops among
225
"ten men in a life-boat," and the lack of social space in a Kibbutz is

undoubtedly a tension-producing factor.
There is a relatively low ceiling for the expression of feelings.

Pioneering life in the Kibbutz is recognized as rugged and difficult.
One is expected to suffer or enjoy with little overt expression of
feeling. Many mothers, for example, have been raised in western
countries and have been accustomed to home life with parents and
children living together. For some of these, it is a strain to have
their own children separated from them to the extent that is usual in
the Kibbutz. Yet one hears few complaints about the difficulty of
such separation; on the contrary, the practice is vigorously

defended, even by those likely to find such practice a hardship. A

concert artist who played at a number of Kibbutzim reported that
she found it difficult to communicate with the people in the audience
as they appeared quite unresponsive and applauded sparsely, if at
all. Yet it is well known that there is a high appreciation of classical
music in the Kibbutz. The writer sat with two members of a Kibbutz
through one of Hollywood's poorest productions. They laughed
frequently and it appeared they enjoyed the movie thoroughly. On
the way home they denied this fact and protested vigorously when
it was suggested that the movie had some funny scenes. Since, in
many Kibbutzim, there are no religious services (although religious
holidays and celebrations are observed), one gets the impression
that there is little outlet for emotion; less overt expression of
sadness, laughter, aggression, hostility, etc., than one would find in
other parts of Israel or in western communities; and that tradition
suggests rigorous repression of such feelings.
The social system tends to become rigid. Theoretically the Kibbutz

is flexible, with new committees being appointed and key positions
being filled annually on the vote of members. While there is
undoubtedly turnover in some of these positions, there is a
tendency for persons to become skilled in one area of operation, to
get advanced training in this field, and to become accepted leaders
in their areas of specialization. Similarly, workers get accustomed
to the routine of their particular jobs and dislike change from it.
226
At the same time, while there is interaction in the community as a

whole, one does make special friends, and small cliques are not
unusual. Thus, in spite of the supposed flexibiHty, occupational and
social roles tend to become fixed and rigid. The role of the mother,

for example, is strictly limited. The main responsibility for child care
rests with the community and the mother has little to say about the
diet, sleeping habits, or education of her own child— although,
through the education committee, she may influence the care of all
children in the village. As long as these roles are acceptable, they
do not, per se, create friction. But if one is unhappy about one's
role, unable to express one's feelings about this situation, and
forced to accept the inevitability of this particular structure of roles
and role relationships, there may well be a welling of hostility which
will break out at some point.
These are but a few illustrations of some of the factors which seem
to underlie tension in three of the Kibbutzim studied. It seems to be
a relatively safe assumption that these and other factors, in various
combinations, lie behind some of the tension that comes rapidly
into focus when certain routine matters come before the weekly
meeting of the community. We are here less concerned with
pressing this diagnosis further than in suggesting the kinds of
factors which must be examined in a diagnosis. The social
organization, structuring of roles and role relationships, the position
of the community in historical and current milieux, the relationship
of belief and practice, etc., are all matters for consideration. Careful
examination of such factors not only suggests the source of much
that emerges in disruptive forms of behavior, but also a cause-
eflFect relationship of which members of the community are not
consciously aware.
It is, however, one task to make such a diagnosis and quite another
to provide treatment. Here it is quite clear that treatment cannot be
provided unless the community is suffering to the extent that it
urgently desires and asks for help. The writer experimented in one
Kibbutz in which there was a good deal of tension which was rigidly
controlled. In informal discussion with groups of mem-

227
bers, indications of tension would often be revealed. When,

however, the writer would raise questions consistent with the
previous diagnosis, these would be vigorously rejected. Even such
an apparently obvious matter as the changed status of the
Kibbutzim in Israel was not only rejected, but strong counter and
irrational arguments were presented. As with an individual, a
community may create a defence structure which resists any
consideration of the problems which threaten its integration. And
unless the problem becomes so severe that these defence
structures no longer seem adequate, the community (as the
individual) will resist consideration of the problem and possible
changed behavior.
In one Kibbutz in which there was far more consciousness of the

tension and in which an open division in the community was
threatened, the writer was asked informally to suggest methods of
coping with the problem. Again, in a series of informal meetings
and through an interpreter, there began a long exploration of some
of the causal factors reported above. These were discussed,
pursued to minute points of detail, considered, rejected, and
reconsidered. Gradually a conception of the problem was
formulated and some plans were made for dealing with it. Of
considerable importance here is that the focus of concern in the
community was shifted from an issue which was disruptive, tension-
creating, and for the moment unsolvable, to more fundamental
issues which all could identify and which all could consider with
some degree of objectivity. This shift in focus meant that new
"common ground" was provided and a new frame of reference was
supplied in which all factions could meet to discuss a common
problem. Further, it meant the beginning of restructuring some
aspects of communal life, and this in itself served as a cohesive
force in the community.

As implied, the difference in method of the worker in community

organization and the social therapist is one of degree, the latter
dealing at a deeper level, often with unconscious forces, and often
with subtle and fundamental patterns of interpersonal relationships.
The difference is not unlike that of the case worker and the
psychiatrist. The average worker in the community hesitates to
move into
228
the diagnostic and treatment field because here he will deal with
anxieties and tension both within the community and in himself with
which he has not been trained to deal. But the advanced worker in
the community organization field may well begin such experimental
work as implied above with some justification, although a
collaborative experience with persons trained in psychiatry or group
psychotherapy would perhaps be a more adequate way to begin.
The problem is that the average psychiatrist or group
psychotherapist has not been trained in community diagnosis and
he is as ill-equipped to deal with some factors of community life as
the community worker is with aspects of treatment. Each may
undertake relatively simple experimental work on his own, but if
progress is to be made here, collaborative work such as that
undertaken at the Tavistock Institute of Human Relations seems
the most appropriate approach.
We have attempted in this chapter to identify various aspects of the

professional worker's role in community organization. Social
therapy we suggest as an addendum, a role not yet recognized nor
perhaps to be accepted by the community worker, but one in which
a few advanced workers may experiment with the help of
practitioners of other disciplines. The function of the worker in

community organization is to facilitate the community organization

process and this he does by helping the community struggle to
achieve some degree of integration as it attacks some of its
problems.
229
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Community Press in an Urban Setting, Free Press,
1952. Jaques, Elliott, The Changing Culture of a Factory, Tavistock

Publications, Ltd. (London), 1951. Johns, R., and Demarche, D. F.,
Community Organization and Agency
Responsibility, Association Press, 1951. Katz, Daniel, Cartwright,

Dorwin, Eldersveld, Samuel, and Lee, Alfred
McClung (eds.). Public Opinion and Propaganda, The Dryden

Press,
Inc., 1954. Kelley, Harold H., "Communication in Experimentally

Created Hierarchies," Group Dynamics, Dorwin Cartwright and
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Row, Peterson & Company, 1953. Ketchum, David, Annual

Address, Canadian Psychological Association,
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Community in American Society, Appleton-
Century-Crofts, 1947. Kleinberg, Otto, Tensions Affecting

International Understanding, Social . Science Research Council
(New York), 1950. Krech, David, and Crutchfield, Richard S.,
Theory and Problems of
Social Psychology, McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1948.

Leighton, Alexander H., Human Relations in a Changing World, E.

P.
Dutton & Co., Inc., 1949. Leighton, Alexander H., The Governing of
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Readings in Social
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Research Methods in the Behavioral Sciences, Leon Festinger and
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233
Lund, Robert, Hour of Glory, George Harrap & Co., Ltd., 1949.

Lynd, Robert S., Knowledge for What?, Princeton University Press,

1948.
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Maclver, R. M., Society: Its Structure and Changes, R. Long & R. R,

Smith, Inc., 1933.
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of Social Workers, Inc., 1951.
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UNESCO, Paris, 1953.
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delivered at Couchiching Conference (Canada), August 10, 1954.
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Mifflin Company, 1954.
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1953.
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236
237
Action, community planning for, 149-
152 Adaptation, of community to change,

75-76, 105 Alinsky, Saul D., 150-151 Allbaugh, Leland, 203 Angell,
Robert C, 85, 103, 118-119,
128 Apathy, 124-127, 213 Association, defined, 156
principles of developing, 157-199
Back of the Yards Council, 150 Bales, R. F., 190 Bavelas, Alex,
180-181 Becker, Carl, 74 Belief, systems of, 122 Bendix, Richard,
81, 90 Berkowitz, Leonard, 112, 193 Bettelheim, Bruno, 126 Buell,
Bradley, 161 Butts, R. Freeman, 131
Cartwright, Dorwin, 191 Case work, aggressive, 161
similarities and differences to community organization, 60-67 Case

worker, role in community organization, 68—71 Clark, Kenneth B.,
75 . . Committee, factors influencing procedures, 112-113
Communication, 179—184 Community, capacity to function, 86
disorganization, 3-4 geographic and functional, 40—41, 102
leadership, 119-121 sociocultural patterns, 110-113 structure, 106-

110 sub-groups, 113-117 Community Chest, 160, 175-177
Community development, United Nations definition, 6-7 various
conceptions of, 7—16 Community integration, 51—52, 103,
106, 109, 118, 189 Community organization, frame of reference for,

77, 92-93, 96 illustrations of, 53-59 in geographic and functional
communities, 40-44 nature of, 39-50, 120, 163-164 traditional
definition, 16 trends, 29-38 variable factors in, 26-29 various
conceptions of, 17-23 Community planning, as distinct from
community organization, 137 See also Planning Community
relations, general description of, 23-24 various types of, 24—26
Consensus, 81, 93, 94, 147, 180, 186,
210 Constitution, 171-172 Cooperation, criticism of, 73

value of, 90, 93, 94 Cooptation, 145 Coyle, Grace, 64
Darley, John C, 191 Democracy, meaning of, 82
237
238
Democracy ( Continued):
need for supporting institutions, 82-84
participation in, 89-90, 128-130 Discontent, 156-165, 211 Doddy,

Hurley H., 165, 175-176
Ehle, Emily L., 166
Eisenstadt, S. N., 114-118, 121, 128-
129, 190 Expert, use of, 141-144 worker as, 218-221
Frank, Lawrence K., 4, 36 Frank, Sir Oliver, 82-83 Frankel, S.

Herbert, 33 Fromm, Erich, 4, 173-174 Furman, Sylvan S., 161
Gibb, Cecil A., 190
Glazer, Nathan, 124
Gross, Neal, 191
Group, identification of, 119-120
leaders, 190-191
mechanisms, 109
morale, 135-136

reference, 116
relations, 109, 111, 113, 196 Gyr, John, 112
Hager, D. J., 80 Handasyde, Elizabeth, 86 Hare, Paul, 180 Hartley,

Eugene L., 183 Hartley, Ruth L., 183 Hayes, Samuel B., Jr., 12
Haythome, William, 193 Holistic approach, 90 Homey, Karen, 4
Hoselitz, B. F., 10, 12-13
Involvement, 110, 116-118, 143-145
Jacques, Elliot, 36, 48, 135-136, 141,
147, 179, 197 Janowitz, Morris, 126, 170 Johoda, Marie, 83, 126
Kark, Sidney, 30-31 Kelley, Harold H., 179 Ketchum, David, 129
Kibbutz, 222-226 Kleinberg, Otto, 130
Leaders, see Leadership
Leadership, 118-122, 138, 165-170,
190-194 Leighton, Alexander, 35, 122 Lewin, Kurt, 143 Likert,

Rensis, 135, 141, 176-177 Lilienthal, David E., 132 Lindeman,
Eduard C., 81 Linton, Ralph S., 5 Lippitt, Ronald, 135, 141, 176-
177 Lund, Robert, 37-38 Lynd, Robert S., 74, 79, 80, 97, 189
Maclver, R. M., 80, 9.3-94 Manipulation, alternative to, 205-207
limits of, !n community organization, 95, 204, 215
tendency toward, 73 Martin, WiUiam E., 191 McNeil, C. F., 16

Mead, Margaret, 34, 89, 110, 122-
123, 130, 166 Mental health, and the community,

83-84, 89 Menzies, Isabel, 104 Merton, Robert K., 124 Methods,

and principles, 156-199
assumptions about, 85-91 Mills, C. Wright, 4 Mobility, social, 80

Morale, 52, 13.5-136, 149, 189 Motivation, 156-165 Multiple-factor
theory, 103-104 Murphy, Gardner, 93 Myrdal, Gunnar, 195
New York City Youth Board, 161 Nisbet, R. A., 3
O'Dea, Thomas F., 106-107
Pace, 33-35, 111, 186-189
Pain, as a motivating force, 136, 157
Pilot project, 183
Planning, 50-51, 132
motivation for, 134-135
steps in, 137-150 Prejudice, 125-126
239
239
Process, 39-40
Professional worker, as an enabler, 211-228
as an expert, 218-221
as a guide, 200-211
as a therapist, 221-228

his biases, 45
his function, 109
need for his services, 91
Raymond, Jack, 105
Reference groups, 116-117
Reid, Ira De A., 166
Reid, Margaret, 29
Research and community organization,
141-143, 219-221 Riesman, David, 112, 124 Rituals, 122-123, 173
Schwartz, Harry, 105
Self-determination in the community, 13-16, 21-23, 28, 35, 37, 89
Selznick, Philip, 145
Social structure, 106-110
Social work, and community organization, 60-66 and social

science, 78, 97-98, 101-102
Social worker, role in community organization, 66-71
See also Professional worker
Sociocultural pattern, 110-113
Sociology of social work, 84
Spicer, Edward H., 9, 88 Sub-cultures, see Sub-groups Sub-

groups, as parts of whole, 184-185
identification of, 119-120, 165-170
relations, 113-118 Symbols, 122-123, 173-174, 195
Tavistock Institute on Human Relations, 222, 228
Technological changes, effect on the community, 78-80
Values, need for community values, 80-81, 94 underlying social

work, 77—78 Vogt, Evon Z., 106-107
Watson, Goodwin, 52
Weber, Max, 76
Welfare council, 41-42, 160, 164, 169
Whitehead, T. N., 79
WilHams, Robin N., 81, 82, 130
Wilson, A. T. M., 109
Wirth, Louis, 81, 94
Wolfenstein, Martha, 113
Woolf, Leonard, 56
Worker, see Professional worker
Wyszynski, Anne B., 125
Y.M.C.A., 159, 198
Zander, Alvin, 191

ex..
\ "C^ \/ Y
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Community organization, theory and principles Page 1 of 291

About this DAISY book

About the Internet Archive

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7. Some Principles Relating to Organization (continued) 178

8. The Role of the Professional Worker 200

Theory underlying community planning services for human welfare

Twice now, in preparation for this Introduction, I have read the

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

such knowledge in relation to clearly delineated values that place

Those persons who were privileged to hear or to read the paper

given by Dr. Ross at the Seventh International Congress of Schools

Ambiguity and ambivalence have no place in these pages.

The total approach is essentially quite original. The author

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

organization is regarded as basic to community planning for human

Of outstanding quality is the rigorous examination of assumptions

While drawing upon relevant experience, knowledge, and theory

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

A student in community organization said to me one day after class:

Charles E. Hendry Toronto, Canada August, 1955

There has been a tendency in community work to group, under

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

the term "community organization," to label attempts to plan welfare

This tendency is not only confusing, but it may actually go some

the nature of the community organization process; this process

I have therefore attempted in this book to set forth a conception of

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

Blummer makes an interesting distinction between "sensitizing

For this reason, I have hesitated to formalize these ideas in a

book. But I have yielded to the persuasion of colleagues who argue

I am deeply indebted to many organizations and individuals for

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

reaction of Mrs. Mildred Barry, Professors Gordon Hamilton,

Mrs. Florence Strakhovsky, research secretary of the Harry M.

Murray G, Ross Toronto, Canada August, 1955

The Nature of Community Organization

Some Conceptions of Community Work

In those countries in which industrialization and urbanization are

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

fact, as Nisbet points out, the current popularity of such words as

1 R. A. Nisbet, The Quest for Community, Oxford University Press,

adequate soil for full personality development. In metropolitan

In this metropolitan society, we develop, in our defence, a blase

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

to our own rather narrow ranges. As we reach for each other, we do

Some appraisal of the eflFect of urban life on the individual is seen

For tiiese reasons, therefore, there has been, as indicated, fresh

2C. Wright Mills, "Are We Losing Our Sense of Belonging?" paper

other programs all have their advocates. In the field of community

In the less-developed countries, the problem has had a rather

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

cohesive communities, closely knit kinship systems, and intimate

Modernization of the unmechanized cultures, with their unexampled

There is, therefore, a growing concern as to how whole

3 Ralph Linton, "Cultural and Personality Factors Affecting

etc. without disrupting or destroying the more valuable of their

file://C:\Users\Asutosh Pradhan\Downloads\e-books 18.1.2011\communityorganiz00ross_d... 2/9/2011

recognized, the community as a whole must make the adaptation.

Throughout the world there is, then, new interest in the