even recognizes the question.nIn India, Galbraith was asked by anreporter liow he and his wife had stayednmarried so long and how they had raisedntheir children. The question itself saidnmuch about the perceived state of thenWestern societies which liberalism hasncreated. Galbraith’s reply: “I enlargednon the need to devote as little time asnpossible to one’s offspring lest they acquirenone’s bad habits … I also holdnthat marriage being a perilous and improbablenassociation, it is safe only ifnthe principals don’t see much of eachnother.” Readers with a taste for this sortnof thing—a kind of defanged EvelynnWaugh (whom Galbraith admires as anwriter)—will enjoy the book. Perhapsnthe professor was merely reaffirming hisnbelief in privacy. But the flippant, lofty,nworld-weary tone, the inability to takenseriously a subject which is not onlynserious but also critical, in itself saysnmuch about the bankruptcy of liberalism.nAn equally revealing pattern isnfound in Professor Galbraith’s frequentncomments about communism. Typically,nhe reveals that he never became ancommunist in the 1930’s, but offers anhalf-facetious reason (he was from thenkind of rural background which Marxnhad called “idiocy”), which suggestsnthat there could be no serious intellectualnor moral objections to communism.nGalbraith is not the kind of liberalnCan Any Good ThingnCome out of Sociology?nRobert Nisbet: History of the Ideanof Progress; Basic Books; New York.nby James J. Thompson, Jr.nA jaded observer of the politicalnfollies of post-Civil War America oncenquipped that the succession of presidentsnDr. Thompson is professor of historynat the College of William and Mary.nwho would ever be trapped into propagandizingnfor communist regimes. Butnin a sense he is a more destructive kind,nthe kind who agreed long ago to stipulatenthat communist societies perpetratenatrocities; he no longer wishes to discussnthe subject. This permits him, by anninflection of voice, a flip of his hand,nthe elevation of an eyebrow, to implynthat misdeeds are approximately equalnin distribution between communist andnnoncommunist regimes and there isnlittle to choose between them. Althoughnas an argument it would scarcely withstandna minute’s scrutiny, his positionnseems to be that communist expansionismnis possibly nonexistent and certainlynnonthreatening, that there is little thenUnited States can or should do to counternit, and that communist triumphsnhave no seriously adverse effects onncountries where they occur. Alger Hissnwas probably guilty, he admits, butnwhat of it?nIn the end. Professor Galbraith’s attitudentowards communism, like almostneverything else in this book, seems tonderive mainly from considerations ofntone and style: anticommunism is simplyntoo uncouth, too emotional, too,nwell, serious to be allowed within sniffingndistance of a man who requires thatnsocial criticism not disrupt his pleasurednand leisurely stroll through the world. Dnfrom George Washington to UlyssesnGrant disproved Darwin’s theory ofnevolutionary progression. In similarnfashion, one might hazard the opinionnthat the line of sociologists from MaxnWeber to the present belies the idea ofnprogress. From the heights attained bynsuch 19th- and early 20th-century theoristsnas Weber, Herbert Spencer, VilfredonPareto and Emile Durkheim, sociologynhas descended into the depthsnnnof triviality and posturing radicalism.nSociologists in the United States todayngenerally fall into one of three categories.nThe most harmless practitionersnof the discipline specialize in churningnout turgid treatises that lovingly enshrinena paucity of insight in a pseudoscientificnjargon that defies penetrationnby all but a few initiates. A second bandnof sociologists has elevated a perversenfascination with the cesspools of ournsociety into a realm of high scholarlynendeavor. These intrepid researchers—neasily spotted on college campuses byntheir blue jeans and ponytails—titillatentheir students with learned discoursesnon the mores of whores, pimps, drugnpushers, transvestites, pederasts, rocknmusicians and other loathsome creatures.nA third and final group of sociologists,narmed with third-rate Marxistnslogans, produces lugubrious accounts ofnsocial oppression, and with the daringnexpected of those ensconced in the comfortsnof tenure, these bold radicals urgentheir students to bring down the pillarsnof a repressive society.nWith a clear conscience I would gladlynconsign the entire lot to an especiallynfiendish torment in the grim recessesnof Dante’s Inferno. But just as Yahwehnspared a handful of righteous folk fromnthe purging fires that consumed Sodomnand Gomorrah, so must I relent for thensake of Robert Nisbet. With his erudition,ngraceful scholarship, felicitousnprose and sparkling insight, Nisbetnforces one to answer affirmatively—ifnbegrudgingly—the question: “Can anyngood thing come out of a department ofnsociology.’^” Since the 1950’s, in a steadilynexpanding shelf of titles, Nisbet hasnproven himself a worthy successor tonthe founding fathers of sociology. Withnsuch works as The Quest for Community,nThe Sociological Tradition andnThe Twilight of Authority, he hasnearned the right to stand among thenleading social theorists of the contemporarynWestern world. His latest book.nHistory of the Idea of Progress, willnfurther enhance his already-securenreputation.n9nSeptember/October 1980n