Sociological Imagination

This place is odd. I am at a café in Allentown. I like the loft area. I am Phantom of the Opera here. Hiding in the shadows of a dead and vacant café. There are no people here; just as there were none on the street. The things around me that feel most alive are, ironically, the things that are most dead. To my left is some sort of wooden crank machine. To my right, an old, ornate full-size mirror. Up here, closer to the ceiling, one is better able to appreciate the ghosts of this building. Often the ceiling is the last thing to change through all the iterations of businesses and residences. These things feel more alive than the phone by my side, the clothes that are on me, the bag that I carry, but not the books that are within that bag. Marcel Duchamp coined the term the “infrathin” to give a word to the phenomenon of the residue left by humans on objects. It is the marks left behind, such as the warmth on a seat after someone has left, or the smell of tobacco in a room. These objects around me relate, but they are a more permanent version. They have taken in the marks of history and the dead. There is a possession to them. The phone, my clothes, my bag have touched no one but me. Save for the passing brush or the hug of family and partner. But this is not imprintation. Some of my books have not known the touch of another reader, but not most. I love used books. This possession of books is intensified by the marks of prior human contact. It is a connection with a separate mind that is thinking and interpreting the same words as you. In a way, this is a comradery. It cuts through the loneliness of thought. It adds life to thinking with the dead. Roland Barthes discusses in his essay “The Death of the Author” that the author should be one that disappears into the work. Ultimately, the reader becomes the author. It is the reader that is the end interpreter of the work, and it is the reader that gives meaning to the work. Without the reader, there is no author, and there is no author if they are not themselves a reader. Even without used books, there is an aliveness that comes from books that is ultimately unalive. It is this uncanny paradox that makes books the quintessential source of intelligence. Freud discussed this element in his essay on the uncanny by stating that the uncanny arose from “doubts whether an apparently animate being is really alive; or conversely, whether a lifeless object might not be in fact animate”. In this understanding, it can be argued that books generally hold this uncanny quality. They are both alive and dead and also neither. However, it should be accepted that the uncanny stems more from the doubt than the paradox. This aliveness is the continuation of life through ideas. Discussing, and somewhat opposing, Michel Foucault and Roland Barthes, Kate Zambreno, in her To Write as if Already Dead, speaks of the desire to write with the solitude and peace of someone dead, and yet to place oneself within the work in order to be seen, respected, acknowledged. Although the reader may give the ultimate meaning to the work, the words themselves are a certain continuation of the self. The words matter, but maybe so also the importance of its generality, which Hamlet may well have implied with his epizeuxis, Words, words, words. More than the café in which I now sit, with its wooden crank machine, ornate mirror, and historical ceiling, books contain the history and space in which one can think.

As I am writing this, there is a fluidity taking shape. A shifting of a social role. A customer has become a worker. A guy that came in, ordered a coffee, and sat down at a table began discussing with the owner about doing a “non-boozy” first Friday at this café and that he would DJ. The conversation then shifts to the fact that he has twelve years of experience as a barista and could use a regular job as well. They discuss that four separate people never showed up for the second shift. He says he’ll start right now. The owner is surprised. He says he’ll make him a latte. The owner says okay and the guy steps behind the counter and, in that simple movement, shifts the meaning of his presence in this space. I watch this all from on high, in the lofty mezzanine as if assuming the role of the Greek intervention of deus ex machina. Will the latte be any good? It is. The owner leaves him with the girl already present to work out a schedule of shifts for him. The Olympians were kind to this one.

This café is not just a café. They sell blunt wraps, lighters, and CBD products. I am in Amsterdam. It fits with the dominant economy of Allentown. It is just after five pm. I still have time before dinner to catch the bus up Elmwood to Aroma. It is a different culture in which to think.

A guy with a briefcase

Something about the face of Democracy

A quiet atmosphere

Suddenly I fit in

I embody a certain narrative

My cuffed, cotton jeans (Levi) and leather boots (Thursday Boots NYC)

My pseudo-leather jacket (Hilfiger)

My Karl Marx joke tee shirt (TeePublic)

I present the persona that fits the setting

And yet, a man out of time

An uncanny paradox?

Belonging in a microsphere

Not belonging in time

Recently, I have pondered the reasons that, although I live in Allentown, I spend the majority of my time in Elmwood Village. This did not used to be the case. The easy answer to this is that I no longer work in Allentown and only work on Elmwood. Although convenient, this does not get to the truth of the matter. With the aid and convenience of the bus stop being positioned almost directly in front of the exit door of my job, it is actually easier for me to spend more time on Allen Street than Elmwood. With the help of a conversation, I came to the conclusion that this change in my habits is a matter of a change in the culture ingrained in the changing self. This culture of the self reflects the micro-zones of culture and class that are Allentown and Elmwood Village.

The distance between Wadsworth and Main Street down Allen is approximately 0.5 miles. The distance between Caffe Aroma and my work at Saigon Café is approximately 0.8 miles. For a rough count, using the rudimentary tool of Google Maps, in this distance down Elmwood there are five coffee shops, one bookstore, one library, one theatre, two gas stations, eight barbers/salons, four laundries, two churches, three banks, one grocery store, thirteen places that serve food but are not bars, twenty-two general shops, and ten bars. Down this relatively equal distance of Allen Street, there are two coffee shops, no bookstores (save for Antique Man that has some books), no libraries, one theatre, one gas station, two convenience stores, three barber/salons, no laundries, no churches, no banks, no grocery, six places that serve food but are not bars, eleven general shops, and seventeen bars.

Through this method, we can extrapolate and examine the dominant economies, and, by extension, the micro-zones of culture that permeate these two neighbourhoods. In this listing of businesses, three are most important. They are the books, the bars, and the shops. In 0.3 miles less distance there are seven more bars on Allen, little to no books, and eleven less shops. These businesses are a representation of disappearances. Just as in a significant amount of college classes, books almost all but disappeared from Allentown. What used to be Rustbelt Books, a used bookstore, is now a bar. An out-of-place trendy bar, but a bar none-the-less. It is clear that the dominant economy of Allentown revolves around bars and drinking, and by extension and under the surface, it is the drug economy; more specifically, cocaine. It is less clear what dominates Elmwood. Certainly bars, drugs and cocaine exist and are significant economies, but it is more diversified. One clue may be that there is twice as many shops on Elmwood that sell clothes, artisanal crafts, jewellery, etc… than Allentown. Perhaps then it can be argued that the dominant economy of Elmwood is more trend or lifestyle. It is certainly not books. That is fading as well.

What is most interesting to look at in Allentown is the micro-zones of culture and power within the micro-zone of Allen Street. Eight of the eleven shops of Allen Street are placed between Main and Elmwood. With the lone exception of Frizzy’s, who is open until 2am occasionally, no bar between Main and Elmwood is open past midnight. The majority close much earlier. Between Elmwood and Wadsworth, almost every bar is open after midnight. These differing micro-zones of culture and class even have manifested in recent construction. The updates have ended at Elmwood. Elmwood avenue is the dividing line of Allentown. Why is this? It is the same leakage of power that is less acute in Elmwood Village but still present. Wealth, class, and culture reach out and extend from loci of power. In Elmwood this is centred around Delaware Park and the art institutions. In Allentown, it is Roswell Park and UB Medical Campus. In this way, Allentown is affected by the economy of cancer. Punctuated on either side by a hospital and a methadone clinic and shelter, Allentown is dominated by drugs, drinking, and disease.

Allentown began as a settlement of artists and skilled craftsman that served the needs of the wealthy mansion owners that surrounded the area. The remnants of this time exist in my own back yard. An old barn that dates back to the nineteenth century is known as the Sidway barn. It is the oldest existing structure on all of Plymouth Avenue. It was once the carriage house for the manor of the Sidway family. One of Buffalo’s wealthiest families. The original mansion no longer exists. The one they moved to later in 1892 does. I live in it now. In a small one bedroom with twenty other small one bedrooms. Every floor is carpet. Every ceiling is tiled. Some are missing. You can see the original ceiling. Ornate crown moulding. The mahogany banister is haphazardly painted white. This represents a shift in power; a shift in class; a shift in culture. My sister lives on Bidwell Parkway in Elmwood Village. Her apartment is much more beautiful.

Later on, Allentown became a hub for homosexuals. There are still rainbows painted on the sidewalks. These themselves have become a ghost. As of just this year, not a single gay bar exists on Allen Street. This culture has been wiped out. This community is lost. What remains is a particular blankness. There are no gay bars; there is only one real music bar. What is left is just the bar. Nothing else. There is only drinking. This is itself often a representation of class.

Marcel Mauss, using the term “habitus”, describes how culture becomes ingrained in the body technique. How we move is a representation of culture. Bourdieu furthered this concept by including class in the way that we move, as well as class and culture defining the things we like, eat, and generally find enjoyable. However, these have the ability to change. Goffman argued that we take on a role based on the interactions we have with those around us and the “stage” or environment in which we are. In this logic, changes in interactions are reflected in changes in the self that, in turn, reflect changes in habitus and taste. Now it can be explained the reasons I choose to spend more time in a neighbourhood in which I do not live more than I used to. External changes in interactions, my job in Elmwood, my current partner, the things I surround myself with and the conception of who I should be are reflected in the changes of the self, my desire to be in environments that cultivate a certain ideal, are reflected in changes to habitus, culture, and class.

This technique of understanding, using a personal biography, filtered through history and by extension books, is what in 1959 C. Wright Mills described as the “sociological imagination”. This way to address the sociological imagination, and present the sociological persona, is fading away. Books and history, more and more, are fading away. The author, more and more, is fading away. The regular sociological persona of today is becoming increasingly more technical and less human. It is becoming more factual, but less capable of true understanding. With the increasing coexistence of technology and human life, this interplay is never more present than with the ascendency of A. I.. Artificial Intelligence, it can be argued, is the summit of what Barthes described as the death of the author. It is the climax of the new and regular sociological persona. This persona is invulnerable. It is like a machine. It is like an automaton. This automaton can be seen as existing in all of us. The automaton and the concept of habitus are at least related. The new culture and class of sociology is statistical, technical, automated.

In preparing for this paper, I was curious to see what it would look like through the sociological persona that A. I. presents. I turned to ChatGPT. I gave it more or less the same prompt, with the aid of clarifying at which sources to look. In about ten seconds it produced a paper and this introductory paragraph:

In C. Wright Mills’ essay, “On Intellectual Craftsmanship,” he emphasizes the importance of the sociological imagination as a tool for understanding the world around us. He argues that intellectual craftsmanship is necessary to understand and analyze the social forces that shape our lives. However, in today's world, the sociological imagination is often overlooked or misunderstood, and the idea of intellectual craftsmanship is seen as outdated. Through key interventions from Kate Zambreno's "To Write As if Already Dead", Sigmund Freud's "The Uncanny", and Klara and the Sun, we can rearrange Mills’ ideas and analyze what remains of the sociological persona and imagination he portrayed in our world.

Something similar to this could have been my first paragraph. What took me hours and nearly two pages to get to, ChatGPT gets to immediately. What is lost without those first two pages? The easy answer is the self, the author, the human. What is left is simply words, words, words. More importantly though, what is lost is deeper understanding. The sociological imagination is reduced to “a tool for understanding”. This is a non-answer. It is barely a definition. Greater understanding of theories and concepts comes from experience. I would argue that my own personal attempt to cultivate the sociological imagination to better understand my life and the world around me is a much more powerful representation than any dictionary could produce.

What is most immediately striking and fascinating about this introduction is how the A. I., without really being prompted, takes the stance that “the sociological imagination is often overlooked and misunderstood, and the idea of intellectual craftsmanship is outdated.” What does it mean that this program gives the impression of having the same thought as me? Freud at one point defines the uncanny as when “something that appeared solid becomes fluid”. The uncanny is the feeling produced by the shifting of reality in a way that is foreign and unexpected. It is described as “unhomely”. The home, the familiar, is the solid foundation of reality. The unhomely is the unknown and the fluid. It is the feeling of “doubts whether an apparently animate being is really alive; or conversely, whether a lifeless object may not be, in fact, animate.” This is seen in Hoffman’s Olympia that Freud discusses, in Ishiguro’s novel Klara and the Sun, in which Klara portrays almost more empathetic, characteristically human qualities than the actual humans in the novel do, and now what is seen here in ChatGPT.

This uncanniness was further manifested on a second attempt at the A. I. paper with the same prompt when I was given an error message and a Kafkaesque ending:

In conclusion, while Mills' ideas about the sociological imagination and persona remain relevant in our world today, they can be enhanced and expanded

In a way, this conclusion is complete but at the same time not complete. It is a complete sentence, but the idea is stunted. Much to hold to the theme of the preference of concise, technical fact rather than deeper understanding that exists in the A. I. sociological persona. What really makes this moment uncanny is the expected infallibility of the A. I. being shattered by a very humanesque occurrence. The inability to finish a thought. ChatGPT, Klara, and Olympia inadvertently take on more human characteristics not when they perfectly portray a certain type of natural writing or behaviour, but when they actually fail to do so.

The third iteration was arguably its best:

C. Wright Mills' "On Intellectual Craftsmanship" outlines the importance of developing a sociological imagination that enables one to connect personal experiences to larger societal issues. However, in today's world, this sociological persona and imagination seem to have faded away, and it is essential to examine the reasons behind this shift and how it can be addressed.

Kate Zambreno's "To Write As if Already Dead" emphasizes the importance of understanding and acknowledging the historical and cultural context in which one is situated. She encourages writers to engage with the past and their predecessors to create meaningful work that transcends time. This intervention is particularly relevant in today's world, where the past is often ignored or disregarded, leading to a disconnection from our roots and history. In the context of intellectual craftsmanship, this intervention calls for sociologists to study the history of sociology and its pioneers to understand the evolution of the field and build upon their work.

Sigmund Freud's "The Uncanny" explores the concept of the familiar being transformed into something strange and unsettling, causing a feeling of unease. This intervention is relevant to sociological imagination as it highlights the need to examine familiar social structures and norms and question their underlying assumptions. Sociologists must be willing to challenge the status quo and push for change when necessary.

Klara and the Sun is a novel that explores the implications of artificial intelligence on human society. This intervention is relevant to sociological imagination as it highlights the need to consider emerging technologies and their impact on social relations and institutions. Sociologists must be equipped to analyze and critique the social implications of technology and anticipate their potential consequences.

Rereading "On Intellectual Craftsmanship" through these interventions highlights the need to reimagine the sociological imagination and persona for the 21st century. Sociologists must engage with the past to build upon the work of their predecessors, question familiar social structures and norms, and analyze emerging technologies and their impact on society.

At the college level, this requires a shift in how sociology is taught. Instead of focusing solely on theories and concepts, students must be encouraged to engage with the past and learn about the history of the discipline. They must also be taught to question the assumptions underlying social structures and norms and analyze the implications of emerging technologies on society.

In the broader world, sociologists must engage with policymakers and the public to raise awareness about the social implications of emerging technologies and advocate for policies that prioritize the well-being of society. They must also be willing to challenge the status quo and push for change when necessary.

In conclusion, the sociological persona and imagination portrayed by C. Wright Mills in "On Intellectual Craftsmanship" remain relevant today, but they must be reimagined and updated for the 21st century. By engaging with the past, questioning familiar social structures and norms, and analyzing emerging technologies, sociologists can contribute to a better understanding of society and work towards creating a more just and equitable future.

The weirdness of this version lies in the irony of arguing for something that it has been designed to replace. ChatGPT and other services like it, represent the epitome of the current state of the sociological imagination and the sociological persona. It is ordered. It is rigid. It is technical. It does not reach even a subcutaneous level. It is knowledge without understanding. It is facts without feeling. Most importantly, it advocates for policy and things that itself does not represent. It is words, words, words.