The Stranger Schutz

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The Stranger: An Essay in Social PsychologyAuthor(s): Alfred SchuetzSource: American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 49, No. 6 (May, 1944), pp. 499-507Published by: The University of Chicago PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2771547 .

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THE STRANGER: AN ESSAY IN SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGYALFRED SCHUETZ

ABSTRACTThe cultural pattern peculiar to a social group functions for its members as an unquestioned scheme ofreference. It determines the strata of relevance for their "thinking as usual" in standardized situations andthe degree of knowledge required for handling the tested "recipes" involved. The approaching stranger,however, does not share certain basic assumptions which alone guarantee the functioning of these recipes. Hehas to place in question what seems unquestionable to the in-group and cannot even put his trust in a vagueknowledge about the general style of the pattern but needs explicit knowledge of its elements. This entails adislocation of the stranger's habitual system of relevance. A thorough modification of his schemes of orienta-tion and interpretation and of his concepts of anonymity, typicality, and chance is the prerequisite of anypossible adjustment.The present paper intends to study in

terms of a general theory of interpretationthe typical situation in which a strangerfindshimself in his attempt to interprettheculturalpattern of a social group which heapproachesand to orient himself within it.For our present purposes the term "stran-ger" shall mean an adult individual of ourtimes and civilization who tries to be per-manently accepted or at least tolerated bythe group which he approaches. The out-standing example for the social situationunderscrutiny is that of the immigrant,andthe following analyses are, as a matter ofconvenience,workedout with this instancein view. But by no means is their validityrestricted to this specialcase. The applicantfor membershipin a closed club, the pro-spective bridegroom who wants to be ad-mitted to the girl's family, the farmer's sonwho enters college, the city-dweller whosettles in a ruralenvironment,the "selectee"who joins the Army, the family of the warworkerwho moves into a boom town-allare strangersaccordingto the definition ustgiven, although in these cases the typical"'crisis"hat the immigrantundergoesmayassumemilderforms or even be entirelyab-sent. Intentionally excluded,however, fromthe present investigation are certain casesthe inclusion of which would requiresomequalifications n our statements: (a) the vis-itor orguest whointendsto establish a mere-ly transitory contact with the group; (b)children or primitives;and (c) relationships

between individualsand groups of differentlevels of civilization,as in the caseof the Hu-ron brought to Europe-a pattern dear tosome moralists of the eighteenth century.Furthermore,it is not the purpose of thispaper to deal with the processesof social as-similationand social adjustment which aretreated in an abundant and, for the mostpart, excellent literature' but rather withthe situation of approaching which pre-cedes every possible social adjustment andwhich includesits prerequisites.

As a convenient starting-point we shallinvestigate how the cultural pattern ofgroup life presents itself to the commonsense of a man who lives his everyday lifewithin the groupamong his fellow-men.Fol-lowing the customary terminology,we usethe term "culturalpattern of grouplife" fordesignating all the peculiar valuations, in-stitutions, and systems of orientation andguidance(such as the folkways,mores, laws,habits, customs, etiquette, fashions) which,in the commonopinion of sociologistsof ourtime, characterize-if not constitute-anysocial group at a given moment in its his-

I Instead of mentioning individual outstandingcontributions by American writers, such as W. G.Sumner, W. I. Thomas, Florian Znaniecki, R. E.Park, H. A. Miller, E. V. Stonequist, E. S. Bogardus,and Kimball Young, and by German authors,especially Georg Simmel and Robert Michels, werefer to the valuable monograph by Margaret MaryWood, The Stranger:A Study in Social Relationship(New York, I934), and the bibliographyquotedtherein.499

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500 THE AMERICANJOURNALOF SOCIOLOGYtory. This cultural pattern, like any phe-nomenon of the social world, has a differentaspect for the sociologist and for the manwho acts and thinks within it.2 The sociolo-gist (as sociologist, not as a man among fel-low-men which he remains in his privatelife) is the disinterestedscientific onlookerof the social world. He is disinterested inthat he intentionally refrainsfrom partici-pating in the network of plans, means-and-ends relations, motives and chances, hopesand fears, which the actor within the socialworld uses for interpreting his experiencesof it; as a scientist he tries to observe, de-scribe, and classify the social world as clear-ly as possible in well-orderedterms in ac-cordance with the scientificideals of coher-ence, consistency, and analytical conse-quence. The actor within the social world,however, experiences t primarilyas a fieldof his actual and possible acts and only sec-ondarily as an object of his thinking. In sofar as he is interested in knowledge of hissocial world, he organizes this knowledgenot in terms of a scientific system but interms of relevance to his actions. He groupsthe world around himself (as the center) asa field of domination and is thereforeespe-cially interested in that segment which iswithin his actual or potential reach. Hesingles out those of its elements which mayserve as means or ends for his "use and en-joyment,"3for furtheringhis purposes,andfor overcoming obstacles. His interest inthese elements is of different degrees, andfor this reason he does not aspireto becomeacquainted with all of them with equalthoroughness.What he wants is graduatedknowledgef relevantelements,the degreeofdesired knowledge being correlated withtheir relevance. Put otherwise, the worldseems to him at any given moment asstratified in different layers of relevance,

each of them requiringa different degreeofknowledge. To illustrate these strata ofrelevance we may-borrowing the termfrom cartography-speak of "isohypses"or "hypsographical contour lines of rele-vance," trying to suggest by this metaphorthat we could show the distribution of theinterests of an individual at a given momentwith respect both to their intensity and totheir scope by connectingelements of equalrelevance to his acts, just as the cartog-rapher connects points of equal height bycontour lines in order to reproduce ade-quately the shape of a mountain.The graph-ical representation of these "contour linesof relevance" would not show them as asingle closed field but rather as numerousareas scatteredover the map, each of differ-ent size and shape. Distinguishing withWilliam James4 two kinds of knowledge,namely, "knowledgeof acquaintance"and"knowledgebout,"we may say that, withinthe field coveredby the contour lines of rel-evance, there are centers of explicit knowl-edge of what is aimed at; they are sur-rounded by a halo knowledge aboutwhatseems to be sufficient;next comes a regionin which it will do merely "to put one'strust"; the adjoiningfoothills are the homeof unwarrantedhopes and assumptions; be-tween these areas, however, lie zones ofcomplete ignorance.We do not want to overcharge his image.Its chief purposehas been to illustratethatthe knowledge of the man who acts andthinks within the world of his daily life isnot homogeneous; it is (i) incoherent, (2)only partially clear, and (3) not at all freefrom contradictions.

i. It is incoherent because the individ-ual's interests which determine the rele-vance of the objects selected for furtherin-quiry are themselves not integrated into acoherent system. They are only partiallyorganizedunder plans of any kind, such asplansof life, plansof workand leisure, plans2 This insight seems to be the most importantcontribution of Max Weber's methodological writ-ings to the problems of social science. Cf. thepresent writer's Der sinnhafte Aufbau der socialenWelt (Vienna, I932).3John Dewey, Logic, the Theory of Inquiry(NewYork,I938), chap. iv.

4 For the distinction of these two kinds of knowl-edge cf. William James, Psychology (New York,I890), I, 22I-22.



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THE STRANGER: AN ESSAY IN SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 50Ifor every social role assumed. But thehierarchyof these plans changes with thesituation and with the growth of the per-sonality; interests are shifted continuallyand entail an uninterruptedtransformationof the shape and density of the relevancelines. Not only the selection of the objectsof curiosity but also the degreeof knowledgeaimed at changes.

2. Man in his daily life is only partially-and we dare say exceptionally-interestedin the clarity of his knowledge, i.e., in fullinsight into the relations between the ele-mentsof his worldand the generalprinciplesruling those relations. He is satisfied thata well-functioning telephone service isavailable to him and, normally, does notask how the apparatus functions in detailand what laws of physics make this func-tioning possible. He buys merchandise inthe store, not knowing how it is produced,and pays with money, although he has onlya vague idea what money really is. He takesit for granted that his fellow-man will un-derstand his thought if expressed in plainlanguageand will answer accordingly,with-out wondering how this miraculous per-formance may be explained. Furthermore,he does not search for the truth and doesnot quest for certainty. All he wants is in-formation on likelihood and insight into thechancesor risks which the situationat handentails for the outcome of his actions. Thatthe subway will run tomorrow as usual isfor him almost of the same order of likeli-hood as that the sun will rise. If by reasonof a special interest he needs more explicitknowledge on a topic, a benign moderncivilization holds ready for him a chain ofinformationdesks and reference ibraries.3. His knowledge, finally, is not a con-sistent one. At the same time he may con-sider statements as equally valid which infact are incompatiblewith one another. Asa father,a citizen, an employee, and a mem-ber of his churchhe may have the most dif-ferent and the least congruentopinions onmoral, political, or economicmatters. Thisinconsistencydoes not necessarily originatein a logical fallacy. Men's thought is just

spread over subject matters located withindifferent and differently relevant levels, andthey are not aware of the modifications heywould have to make in passing from onelevel to another. This and similar problemswould have to be explored by a logic ofeveryday thinking, postulated but not at-tained by all the great logicians from Leib-nitz to Husserl and Dewey. Up to now thescienceof logic has primarily dealt with thelogic of science.The system of knowledgethus acquired-incoherent, inconsistent, and only partiallyclear, as it is-takes on for the members ofthe in-group the appearance of a suficientcoherence, clarity, and consistency to giveanybody a reasonablechance of understand-ing and of being understood. Any memberborn or rearedwithin the group accepts theready-madestandardizedscheme of the cul-tural pattern handed down to him by an-cestors, teachers, and authorities as an un-questioned and unquestionable guide in allthe situations which normallyoccur withinthe social world. The knowledge correlatedto the cultural pattern carries its evidencein itself-or, rather, t is takenforgrantedinthe absenceof evidenceto the contrary.It isa knowledge of trustworthy recipes for in-terpreting the social worldand for handlingthings and men in order to obtain the bestresultsin every situation with a minimumofeffortby avoidingundesirableconsequences.The recipe works,on the one hand, as a pre-cept for actions and thus servesas a schemeof expression:whoeverwants to obtaina cer-tain resulthas to proceedas indicatedby therecipe provided for this purpose. On theother hand, the recipeservesas a schemeofinterpretation: whoever proceeds as indi-cated by a specific recipe is supposed to in-tend the correlated result. Thus it is thefunction of the culturalpattern to eliminatetroublesome inquiries by offering ready-made directions for use, to replace truthhard to attain by comfortabletruisms, andto substitute the self-explanatory for thequestionable.This "thinkingas usual," as we may callit, corresponds o Max Scheler's dea of the



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502 THE AMERICANJOURNALOF SOCIOLOGY"relativelynaturalconceptionof the world"(relativ natiirlicheWeltanschauung);5 it in-cludes the "of-course"assumptionsrelevantto a particularsocial group which RobertS. Lynd describesin such a masterlyway-together with their inherent contradictionsand ambivalence-as the "Middletown-spirit."6Thinking as usual may be main-tained as long as some basic assumptionshold true, namely: (i) that life and especial-ly social life will continue to be the same asit has been so far, that is to say, that thesame problemsrequiringthe same solutionswill recur and that, therefore, our formerexperienceswill sufficefor masteringfuturesituations; (2) that we may relay on theknowledgehanded down to us by parents,teachers, governments, traditions, habits,etc., even if we do not understand their ori-gin and their real meaning; (3) that in theordinarycourse of affairs it is sufficient toknow something about the general type orstyle of events we may encounter in ourlife-world in order to manage or controlthem; and (4) that neither the systems ofrecipes as schemesof interpretationand ex-pression nor the underlying basic assump-tions just mentionedare our private affair,but that they are likewise accepted and ap-plied by our fellow-men.If only one of these assumptionsceases tostand the test, thinking as usual becomesunworkable.Then a "crisis" arises which,accordingto W. I. Thomas' famous defini-tion, "interruptsthe flow of habit and givesrise to changed conditionsof consciousnessand practice"; or, as we may say, it over-throws precipitously the actual system ofrelevances. The cultural pattern no longerfunctions as a system of tested recipes athand; it reveals that its applicability is re-stricted to a specifichistoricalsituation.

Yet the stranger, by reason of his per-sonal crisis, does not share the above-men-tioned basic assumptions. He becomes es-sentially the man who has to place in ques-tion nearlyeverything that seems to be un-questionable to the members of the ap-proached group.To him the cultural pattern of the ap-proachedgroupdoes not have the authorityof a tested system of recipes, and this, if forno otherreason,because he doesnot partakein the vivid historical traditionby which ithas been formed. To be sure, from thestranger'spoint of view, too, the culture ofthe approachedgroup has its peculiar his-tory, and this history is even accessible tohim. But it has never become an integralpart of his biography, as did the history ofhis home group.Only the ways in which hisfathers and grandfathers lived become foreveryone elements of his own way of life.Graves and reminiscencescan neither betransferred nor conquered. The stranger,therefore, approachesthe other group as anewcomer n the true meaningof the term.At best he may be willingand able to sharethe present and the future with the ap-proached group in vivid and immediateexperience; under all circumstances,how-ever, he remains excluded fromsuch experi-ences of its past. Seenfromthe pointof viewof the approachedgroup,he is a man with-out a history.To the stranger he culturalpatternof hishome groupcontinues to be the outcomeofan unbrokenhistoricaldevelopmentand anelementof his personalbiographywhich forthis very reasonhas been and still is the un-questioned schemeof reference or his "rela-tively natural conceptionof the world." Asa matter of course, therefore, the strangerstarts to interpret his new social environ-ment in terms of his thinkingasusual. With-in the schemeof referencebrought fromhishomegroup,however,he findsa ready-madeidea of the pattern supposedly valid withinthe approachedgroup-an ideawhichneces-sarily will soon prove inadequate.7

5Max Scheler, "Probleme einer Soziologie desWissens," Die Wissensformen und die Gesellschaft(Leipzig, I926), pp. 58 f.; cf. Howard Becker andHellmuth Otto Dahlke, "Max Scheler's Sociology ofKnowledge," Philosophy and PhenomenologicalRe-search, I (I942), 3I-22, esp. p. 3I5.6 Robert S. Lynd, Middletown in Transition

(New York, 1937), chap. xii, and Knowledge forWhat? Princeton, 939), pp. 58-63. 7Asone account showing how the American cul-tural pattern depicts itself as an "unquestionable"



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THE STRANGER: AN ESSAY IN SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 503First, the idea of the cultural pattern ofthe approachedgroup which the strangerfinds within the interpretive scheme of hishome grouphas originated n the attitude ofa disinterested observer. The approachingstranger, however, is about to transformhimself from an unconcernedonlooker intoa would-be member of the approachedgroup. The cultural pattern of the ap-proachedgroup, then, is no longera subjectmatter of his thought but a segment of theworld which has to be dominatedby actions.Consequently,its position within the stran-ger's system of relevancechangesdecisively,and this means, as we have seen, that an-

other type of knowledge is required for itsinterpretation.Jumping from the stalls tothe stage, so to speak, the formeronlookerbecomes a memberof the cast, enters as apartner into social relations with his co-actors, and participates henceforth in theaction in progress.Second, the new cultural pattern ac-quires an environmental character. Its re-motenesschangesinto proximity;its vacantframes become occupied by vivid experi-ences; its anonymous contents turn intodefinite social situations; its ready-madetypologies disintegrate.In other words, thelevel of environmentalexperienceof socialobjects is incongrouswith the level of merebeliefs about unapproached objects; bypassing from the latter to the former,anyconceptoriginating n the level of departurebecomes necessarily nadequateif appliedtothe new level without having been restatedin its terms.

Third, the ready-made picture of theforeign group subsisting within the stran-ger's home-groupproves its inadequacyforthe approachingstrangerfor the mere rea-son that it has not been formed with theaim of provokinga response from or a re-

action of the membersof the foreign group.The knowledge which it offers serves merelyas a handy scheme for interpreting the for-eign groupand not as a guide for interactionbetween the two groups. Its validity is pri-marily basedon the consensusof those mem-bers of the home group who do not intendto establish a direct social relationshipwithmembersof the foreign group. (Those whointend to do so are in a situation analogousto that of the approaching stranger.) Con-sequently, the scheme of intrepretation re-fers to the members of the foreign groupmerely as objects of this interpretation,butnot beyond it, as addresseesof possible actsemanating from the outcome of the inter-pretive procedure and not as subjects ofanticipated reactions toward those acts.Hence, this kind of knowledge is, so tospeak, insulated; it can be neither verifiednor falsified by responsesof the members ofthe foreign group. The latter, therefore,consider this knowledge-by a kind of"looking-glass" effect8-as both irrespon-sive and irresponsibleand complain of itsprejudices, bias, and misunderstandings.The approaching stranger, however, be-comes aware of the fact that an importantelementof his "thinkingas usual," namely,his ideas of the foreign group, its culturalpattern,and its way of life, do not stand thetest of vivid experience and social inter-action.The discovery that things in his new sur-roundings ook quite differentfromwhat heexpected them to be at home is frequentlythe first shock to the stranger'sconfidencein the validity of his habitual "thinking asusual." Not only the picture which thestranger has brouglhtalong of the culturalpattern of the approachedgroup but thewhole hitherto unquestionedscheme of in-terpretationcurrentwithin the home groupbecomes invalidated. It cannot be used as aschemeof orientationwithin the new socialsurroundings.For the members of the ap-element within the scheme of interpretation ofEuropean intellectuals we refer to Martin Gumpert'shumorous description in his book, First Papers(New York, I94I), pp. 8-9. Cf. also books likeJules Romains, Visite chez les Amdricains (Paris,

I930) and Jean Prevost Usonie, Esquisse de lacivilisation am6ricaine (Paris, I939), pp. 245-66.

8In using this term, we allude to Cooley's well-known theory of the reflected or looking-glass self(Charles H. Cooley, Human Nature and the SocialOrder [rev. ed.; New York, I922], p. I84).



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504 THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SOCIOLOGYproached group their cultural pattern ful-fils the functions of such a scheme. But theapproaching stranger can neither use itsimplyas it is norestablisha generalformu-la of transformationbetween both culturalpatterns permitting him, so to speak, toconvert all the co-ordinates within oneschemeof orientationinto those valid with-in the other-and this for the followingreasons.First, any scheme of orientation presup-poses that everyonewho uses it looks at thesurroundingworld as groupedaround him-self who stands at its center. He who wantsto use a map successfullyhas first of all toknow his standpoint in two respects: itslocation on the ground and its representa-tion on the map. Appliedto the socialworldthis means that only members of the in-group, having a definite status in its heir-archy and also being awareof it, can use itscultural pattern as a natural and trust-worthy schemeof orientation.The stranger,however,has to face the fact that he lacksany status as a memberof the social grouphe is about to join and is thereforeunableto get a starting-pointto take his bearings.He finds himself a border case outside theterritorycoveredby the scheme of orienta-tion currentwithin the group. He is, there-fore, no longer permitted to consider him-self as the center of his social environment,and this fact causes again a dislocation ofhis contourlines of relevance.

Second, the culturalpattern and its rec-ipes representonly for the membersof thein-groupa unit of coincidingschemesof in-terpretationas well as of expression.For theoutsider, however, this seeming unity fallsto pieces. The approachingstrangerhas to"translate"its terms into terms of the cul-tural pattern of his home group, providedthat, within the latter, interpretiveequiva-lents exist at all. If they exist, the translatedtermsmay be understoodand remembered;they can be recognizedby recurrence; heyare at handbut not in hand. Yet, even then,it is obvious that the stranger cannot as-sume that his interpretationof the new cul-tural pattern coincides with that current

with the members of the in-group. On thecontrary, he has to reckon with fundamen-tal discrepancies in seeing things and han-dling situations.Only afterhaving thus collecteda certainknowledgeof the interpretivefunction of thenew cultural pattern may the stranger startto adopt it as the schemeof his own expres-sion. The differencebetween the two stagesof knowledge is familiar to any student of aforeign language and has received the fullattention of psychologists dealing with thetheory of learning. It is the difference be-tween the passive understandingof a lan-guage and its active mastering as a meansfor realizing one'5 own acts and thoughts.As a matterof convenience we want to keepto this examplein orderto make clearsomeof the limits set to the stranger'sattempt atconquering the foreign pattern as a schemeof expression, bearing in mind, however,that the following remarkscould easily beadapted with appropriatemodifications toother categoriesof the culturalpattern suchas mores, laws, folkways, fashions, etc.Language as a scheme of interpretationand expression does not merely consist ofthe linguistic symbols catalogued in thedictionary and of the syntactical rulesenumeratedin an ideal grammar.The for-mer are translatable into other languages;the latter are understandableby referringthem to correspondingor deviating rules ofthe unquestionedmother-tongue.9However,severalother factors supervene.

i. Every word and every sentence is, toborrowagain a term of WilliamJames, sur-rounded by "fringes" connecting them, onthe one hand, with past and future elementsof the universe of discourse to which theypertainand surrounding hem, on the otherhand, with a haloof emotionalvalues and ir-rational implications which themselves re-main ineffable. The fringes are the stuffpoetry is madeof; they are capableof beingset to music but they are not translatable.

9Therefore, the learning of a foreign languagereveals to the student frequently for the first timethe grammar rules of his mother-tongue which hehas followed so far as "the most natural thing in theworld," namely, as recipes.



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THE STRANGER: AN ESSAY IN SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY 5052. There are in any language terms withseveral connotations. They, too, are notedin the dictionary. But, besides these stand-ardizedconnotations, every element of thespeechacquires its special secondary mean-ing derived from the context or the socialenvironmentwithin which it is used and, inaddition,gets a special tinge fromthe actualoccasion in which it is employed.3. Idioms, technical terms, jargons, anddialects,whose use remainsrestrictedto spe-cific social groups, exist in every language,and their significancecan be learned by anoutsider too. But, in addition, every socialgroup, be it ever so small (if not every in-dividual), has its own private code, under-standable only by those who have partici-pated in the common past experiences inwhich it took rise or in the tradition con-nected with them.4. As Vossler has shown, the whole his-tory of the linguistic group is mirrored n itsway of saying things.'0 All the other ele-ments of group life enter into it-above all,its literature. The erudite stranger, for ex-ample, approaching an English-speaking

country is heavily handicapped if he hasnot read the Bible and Shakespearein theEnglish language, even if he grew up withtranslations of those books in his mother-tongue.All the above-mentionedfeatures are ac-cessible only to the membersof the in-group.They all pertain to the scheme of expres-sion. They are not teachable and cannotbe learnedin the same way as, for example,the vocabulary.In orderto commanda lan-guage freely as a schemeof expression,onemust have written love letters in it; one hasto knowhow to prayand cursein it and howto say things with every shade appropriateto the addresseeand to the situation. Onlymembersof the in-grouphave the schemeofexpression as a genuine one in hand andcommand it freely within their thinking asusual.Applying the result to the total of thecultural pattern of group life, we may say

that the member of the in-group looks inone single glance through the normal socialsituations occurring to him and that hecatches immediatelythe ready-maderecipeappropriateto its solution. In those situa-tions his acting shows all the marks ofhabituality, automatism, and half-con-sciousness.This is possiblebecause the cul-turalpattern providesby its recipes typicalsolutions for typical problemsavailable fortypical actors. In otherwords,the chanceofobtaining the desired standardizedresultbyapplying a standardizedrecipe is an objec-tive one; that is open to everyone who con-ducts himself like the anonymous type re-quired by the recipe. Therefore, the actorwho followsa recipedoes not have to checkwhether this objective chance coincideswith a subjective chance, that is, a chanceopen to him, the individual,by reason of hispersonalcircumstances and faculties whichsubsists independently of the questionwhether other people in similar situationscould or could not act in the same way withthe same likelihood. Even more, it can bestated that the objective chances for theefficiency of a recipe are the greater, thefewer deviations from the anonymous typi-fiedbehavioroccur,and this holdsespeciallyfor recipes designed for social interaction.This kind of recipe, if it is to work, presup-poses that any partnerexpects the other toact or to react typically, provided that theactor himself acts typically. He who wantsto travel by railroad has to behave in thattypicalway which the type "railroadagent"may reasonably expect as the typical con-duct of the type "passenger," and viceversa. Neither party examines the subjec-tive chances involved. The scheme, beingdesigned for everyone's use, need not betested for its fitness for the peculiar individ-ual who employs it.For those who have grown up within thecultural pattern, not only the recipes andtheir efficiency chance but also the typicaland anonymousattitudes requiredby themare an unquestioned "matter of course"which gives them both security and assur-ance. In other words, these attitudes byIOKarl Vossler, Geist und Kultur in der Sprache(Heidelberg, 925), pp. 117 ff.



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506 THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF SOCIOLOGYtheir very anonymity and typicality areplacednot within the actor's stratum of rel-evance which requiresexplicit knowledgeofbut in the region of mere acquaintance inwhich it will do to put one's trust. This in-terrelationbetween objective chance, typi-cality, anonymity, and relevance seems tobe ratherimportant.IIFor the approachingstranger, however,the pattern of the approached group doesnot guarantee an objective chance for suc-cess but rather a pure subjective likelihoodwhich has to be checked step by step, thatis, he has to make sure that the solutionssuggested by the new schemewill also pro-duce the desiredeffect for him in his specialposition as outsider and newcomerwho hasnot brought within his grasp the whole sys-tem of the culturalpattern but who is ratherpuzzled by its inconsistency, incoherence,and lack of clarity. He has, first of all, touse the term of W. I. Thomas, to definethesituation. Therefore,he cannot stop at anapproximate acquaintance with the newpattern, trusting in his vague knowledgeabout its general style and structure butneeds an explicit knowledgeof its elements,inquiringnot only into their that but intotheir why. Consequently, the shape of hiscontourlines of relevanceby necessity dif-fersradicallyfromthose of a memberof thein-group as to situations, recipes, means,ends, social partners,etc. Keeping in mindthe above-mentioned interrelationshipbe-tweenrelevance,on the one hand, and typi-cality and anonymity, on the other, it fol-lows that he uses another yardstick foranonymityand typicality of socialacts than

the members of the in-group. For to thestranger the observed actors within the ap-proached group are not-as for their co-actors-of a certain presupposed anonym-ity, namely, mere performers of typicalfunctions, but individuals. On the otherhand, he is inclined to take mere individualtraits as typical ones. Thus he constructs asocial world of pseudo-anonymity, pseudo-intimacy, and pseudo-typicality.Therefore,he cannot integrate the personal types con-structed by him into a coherent picture ofthe approachedgroup and cannot rely onhis expectationof their response.And evenless can the stranger himself adopt thosetypical and anonymous attitudes which amember of the in-group s entitled to expectfrom a partner in a typical situation. Hencethe stranger's lack of feeling for distance,his oscillating between remoteness and inti-macy, his hesitation and uncertainty, andhis distrust in every matter which seems tobe so simple and uncomplicated to thosewho rely on the efficiencyof unquestionedrecipes which have just to be followed butnot understood.In other words, the cultural pattern ofthe approachedgroupis to the strangernota shelterbut a field of adventure,not a mat-ter of coursebut a questionable topic of in-vestigation, not an instrument for dis-entangling problematic situations but aproblematicsituation itself and one hard tomaster.These facts explaintwo basic traits of thestranger's attitude toward the group towhich nearly all sociologicalwritersdealingwith this topic have renderedspecialatten-tion, namely, (i) the stranger's objectivityand (2) his doubtful loyalty.

i. The stranger'sobjectivity cannot besufficientlyexplainedby his criticalattitude.To be sure, he is not bound to worshipthe"idols of the tribe" and has a vivid feelingfor the incoherenceand inconsistencyof theapproachedcultural pattern. But this atti-tude originatesfar less in his propensity tojudge the newly approached group by thestandards brought from home than in his

I, It could be referred to a general principle of thetheory of relevance, but this would surpass theframe of the present paper. The only point for whichthere is space to contend is that all the obstacleswhich the stranger meets in his attempt at inter-preting the approached group arise from the incon-gruence of the contour lines of the mutual relevancesystems and, consequently, from the distortion thestranger's system undergoes within the new sur-rounding. But any social relationship, and especiallyany establishment of new social contacts, evenbetween individuals, involves analogous phenomena,although they do not necessarily lead to a crisis.



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THE STRANGER: AN ESSAY IN SOCIALPSYCHOLOGY 507need to acquire full knowledge of the ele-ments of the approached cultural patternand to examine for this purpose with careand precision what seems self-explanatoryto the in-group. The deeper reason for hisobjectivity, however, lies in his own bitterexperienceof the limits of the "thinking asusual," which has taught him that a manmay loose his status, his rules of guidance,and even his history and that the normalway of life is alwaysfarless guaranteedthanit seems. Therefore, the stranger discerns,frequentlywith a grievous clear-sightedness,the rising of a crisis which may menace thewhole foundationof the "relatively naturalconception of the world," while all thosesymptoms pass unnoticed by the membersof the in-group,who rely on the continuanceof their customary way of life.

2. The doubtful loyalty of the stranger sunfortunatelyvery frequently more than aprejudice on the part of the approachedgroup. This is especially true in cases inwhich the stranger proves unwilling or un-able to substitute the new culturalpatternentirely for that of the home group. Thenthe strangerremainswhat Park and Stone-quist have aptly called a "marginal man,"a culturalhybrid on the verge of two differ-elt patterns of group life, not knowing towhich of them he belongs. But very fre-quently the reproach of doubtful loyaltyoriginatesin the astonishmentof the mem-bers of the in-groupthat the strangerdoesnot accept the total of its cultural patternas the natural and appropriateway of lifeand as the best of all possible solutions ofany problem. The stranger is called un-grateful, since he refuses to acknowledgethat the cultural pattern offered to himgrants him shelterand protection.But thesepeople do not understandthat the strangerin the state of transition does not considerthis pattern as a protecting shelter at all

but as a labyrinth in which he has lost allsense of his bearings.As stated before, we have intentionallyrestricted our topic to the specific attitudeof the approachingstranger which precedesany social adjustment and refrained frominvestigating the process of social assimila-tion itself. One singleremarkconcerning helatter may be permitted. Strangeness andfamiliarity are not limited to the social fieldbut aregeneralcategoriesof our interpreta-tion of the world. If we encounter in ourexperience something previously unknownand which thereforestands out of the ordi-nary order of our knowledge, we begin aprocess of inquiry. We first define the newfact; we try to catch its meaning;we thentransformstep by step our general schemeof interpretationof the world in sucha waythat the strange fact and its meaning be-comes compatible and consistent with allthe other facts of our experienceand theirmeanings. If we succeed in this endeavor,then that whichformerlywas a strangefactand a puzzling problemto ourmind is trans-formed into an additional element of ourwarranted knowledge. We have enlargedand adjusted our stock of experiences.What is commonly called the process ofsocial adjustment which the newcomerhasto undergois but a specialcase of this gen-eral principle. The adaptation of the new-comerto the in-groupwhich at first seemedto be strange and unfamiliar to him is acontinuous process of inquiry into the cul-tural pattern of the approached group. Ifthis process of inquiry succeeds, then thispattern and its elements will become to thenewcomer a matter of course, an unques-tionableway of life, a shelter, and a protec-tion. But then the stranger is no strangerany more, and his specific problems havebeen solved.NEw YORKCITY

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