Abstract
In this issue, the first of two special issues to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the journal, we look back at our origins and reassert the important of doing humanist sociology. Now, more than ever, the contributors to this special issue feel that the type of sociology that we teach and practice is essential to the betterment of our profession, but also, and more importantly, to the betterment of our society.
Personal Reflexive Statement
Introduction
By 2004 most sociologists had read of or at least heard about Burawoy’s (2005a, 2005b) call for a public sociology. At its base was a simple urge to make sociology more relevant. More ambitious was the interpretation to make public sociology as visible as other types of sociology, especially what had become known as “professional” sociology—that is a sociology that has defined theories, methodologies, and frameworks. Burawoy’s call was attacked for, among other things, as being too Marxist (Boyns and Fletcher 2005), as “feel good populism” and perhaps hypocritical (Calhoun 2005), and as dubious since it is based on the supposed unambiguous understanding of what is just or morally good (Tittle 2004). Additional criticisms levied against Burowoy’s call referred to it as implicitly elitist and while not racist in its intentions, certainly neglectful of the realities of structural racism. Certainly, the call elicited dialogue around who had voice and who did not, who could engage in public sociology (and get rewarded for doing so) and who could not, and when and how academics would step back and take a secondary role to communities already doing similar work on the ground.
Notwithstanding these criticisms, some of the pushback against Burawoy was in large part a pushback against any activist sociology. As Pennell and Maher (2015) observe, most of what was being considered in the early days of “public sociology” were large scale projects, relevant to the universities that research scholars worked for and to large funders who found the area of research to be relevant (Ballard 2011). Since then, the situation has become increasingly nebulous. Much of public sociology has become the equivalent of grounded theory—a way of claiming to do sociology that is professionally intelligible, but often signifies that the speaker did research that the was in the public interest or could possibly benefit some identifiable publics. At worst, it is sociology done in public—that is, in a community. It often involves the taking of information from a community or a group of “subjects”; it results in the education of the researcher and their readers, not the “mutual education” between the researcher and the people they study (Burawoy 2005a).
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While Burawoy (2005a) did provide two paths for doing public sociology, a “traditional” path where sociologists work on public issues, and an “organic” path where sociologists work, in at least in part,
In his call/presidential address, Burawoy (2005a) mentions Al McClung Lee’s presidential address many years prior, where Lee asked the question, “Sociology for Whom?” (see Lee 1976). Al and Betsy Lee founded the Association for Humanist Sociology (AHS), and founded this journal, in large part with this question in mind. In their 2015 article in
Humanist sociology was founded, in large part, because of the move away from public sociology (see Adair 2015, 2026; Embrick and Henricks 2014; Lee 1976). Although there have been different interpretations of humanist sociology, the definition used by AHS is that it is a bottom-up sociology; a type of sociology that should be initiated by community partners. Ideally, it would also be community-led. It is a type of scholarship predicated on activism that helps to realize community goals (Pennell and Maher 2015).
To say that there has never been a better time, a more urgent time for humanist sociology would be cliché. As Embrick and Henricks (2014) note in their call to rekindle the spirit of McClung Lee (and as Thakore, 2026, writes, there were two Lees), macro-political phenomena reveal that many Americans lack, simply put, critical thinking skills. They write that Americans are content to gobble up what neoliberal leaders feed them (Embrick and Henricks 2014:112). As such many Americans have a view of social/civic life that is discordant with reality. Partisanship and mis/disinformation campaigns by media outlets by Fox News (but even relatively moderate to left-leaning outlets) contribute to this discordance. Climate change is a good example. The overwhelming majority of Americans believe climate change is occurring and a solid majority believe that humans are the main driver of that change. These beliefs are shared by a majority of Republicans. The feedback loop between Fox News, lobbyists, and think tanks like the American Petroleum Institute, however, creates the appearance of disagreement. Hence, Congresspersons like Scott Perry can propose that the United States withdraw from the United Nations Framework Commission on Climate Change and Donald Trump can withdraw us from the Paris Agreement and it seems like there is disagreement or even civic discord regarding the issue when there is not.
Neither public sociology nor humanist sociology can do much here, other than reveal these processes of mis/disinformation. However, as humanist sociologists we can work on micro-level political phenomena. This is where humanist sociologists (and hopefully critical public sociologists) are needed. For instance, one could reach out to a local environmental organization and see if there is a project that they are working on that you and/or your students can help with (i.e., do not give them a project or dump students on them so that they have to figure out what to do with them). To continue with our example—most sociologists interested in climate change would simply conduct research on drivers of greenhouse gas emissions and publish their findings in academic journal that focus on inequality, climate change beliefs, the effects of climate change on food apartheid, etc. Public sociologists would study these things also, publish academic and policy papers, but also write op-eds and possibly be involved with local organizations. Humanist sociologists become members of (or sometimes form) local organizations and do research for that organization (when asked) to help mitigate the effects of climate change at a local level. To make those gradations finer—the lead author, as a public sociologist, has been asked on numerous occasions to speak before city council or give a talk to a local environmental organization. However, as a humanist sociologist he has attended and listened to community groups discuss issues in his areas of research to see how he can be of assistance to organizations or their members. We certainly need more public sociologists—many more, but we would contend that we need much more humanist sociologists. There is an urgency for humanist sociology.
We need a sociology that seeks to decenter academia as a place/institution/process; to question what academia has to offer the “public” or “community”; that asserts that most of university-public relations have been extractive (Fatasis 2017) at best if not counter-productive for our communities. We need sociologists to rethink the false impressions of sociology as a value-neutral discipline or engaged in sociological hypnagogia (Embrick 2017). Rather than a mutualistic relationship, institutions of higher learning have frequently served as a gatekeeper of knowledge, rendering invisible everyday practices/processes/knowledges that exist “out there” (Mahadeo 2024). This is especially troubling in our field, where public sociology has failed to acknowledge the privatization of knowledge inherent to academia and continues to see sociology as the principle conduit of knowledge about publics/communities (see Sneed, Embrick, and Saenz 2019). Moreover, much of the work done in the name of public sociology ends up being a form of white saviorism. Thus, a move away from professional sociology and working toward Moten and Harney’s (2013) idea of the “undercommons” or Mahadeo’s (2024) concept of a counter-public sociology has been what humanist sociologists have strived for but not always accomplished.
As Mahadeo (2024: 408) writes:
A counter-public sociology has no interest in giving any greater credence to the university or professionalizing criticality. Counter-public sociology does not seek self-aggrandizement by making research accessible to a wider audience, precisely because it is committed to what Fred Moten and Stefano Harney (2004: 11) describe as ‘study’—‘a mode of thinking with others separate from the thinking that the institution requires of you’. ‘Study’ exceeds the physical boundaries of the university. ‘As a verb, not a noun, ‘study’ is done ‘with and for’ counterpublics, not the university.
While institutions of higher education have been critiqued as somehow both isolationist and revolutionary since at least the 1980s, they have come under increasing scrutiny in the last few years, in particular ramping up this year (2025). The irony of course is that while sociology departments (and others) are being dismantled and de-funded (as is scholarship) for their diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs, we have never been anywhere as inclusive as we should be (obviously the same goes for the other two areas of DEI). At our most radical, Mahadeo (2024:391) writes, “. . . academic sociology simply reveals a steadfast faith in the state and capital, while obscuring radical alternatives . . . [it] functions as a counterinsurgency tool via professionalization.” We need to be more radical. We need to be as radical as right-wing extremists make us out to be (see Williams 2026).
The goal of knowledge should be as much about how knowledge gets created, or what knowledge gets privileged, for instance, than the dissemination of a body of knowledge (Harkins et al. 2020; Kahl, Atay, and Amundson 2022; Nelson and Stroink 2020). We want our students to leave college knowing that there is a lot of knowledge that exists outside of academia; pragmatic knowledge; knowledge that exists in spaces and in people that we are taught/told to ignore. People’s whose histories and struggles are not recognized, not teachable for some, and usually whitewashed is worth knowing. We would like to think that since Boyer (1994) wrote about the “New American College,”—a place that connected service to teaching and theory, that we have perhaps entered a new “New American College” where the three are not just connected, but are the same. We would like to believe that critical service learning (i.e., Rhoads 1997; Mitchell 2007) is no longer an idea, but the basis for what we do; a college that exists in the local community as much if not more than it exists behind walls and in classrooms.
This aligns with Moten and Harney’s (2013) idea of the undercommons—which they define in part as “the undercommons engage in study; a mode of sociality, a kind of way of being with others, walking and talking and thinking and working together (111–112).” While we are not all member of the undercommons, which Ngin (2020) understands to be the colonized, queer, bipoc, otherwise marginalized peoples, humanist sociologists have always sought out those spaces and to integrate the people in those spaces with the people we teach and do research with. Haiven and Khasnabish (2014:12 in Webb 2018:102), note that the spaces in which we work in the undercommons are “infused with a utopian dimension as they are inhabited by a network of radical alliances who resist elitism, enclosure, commercialization, and seek to mobilize the unique historical location and material power of the university to imagine and build a world beyond the present order.” As Williams (2026), katz-fishman, Scott, and Anderson (2026, and others note—this is what humanist sociology is supposed to be. The scholars, activists, scholar-activists, and activist scholars that appear in these two special issues have at least one thing in common: advancing a counter-hegemonic sociology.
In this special issue, the first of two, we have several articles that attest to the urge(ncy) for humanist sociology.
In the first article, Corey Dolgon (2026) discusses his historical trajectory into sociology and why the Association for Humanist Sociology became a good fit for him. His article provides a historical overview of AHS and the early day of the journal; providing us with the collective memory that demonstrates the challenges radical sociologists have had to deal with while also providing a road map for current and future challenges. His article sets the tone for the rest of the issue with this statement:
I want to suggest that, if a
Adair likewise considers our origins and our future(s). He shows how old paradigms and alternative ways of thinking gave rise to AHS and separated us from other forms and institutions of sociology. He examines “homologous linkages” that tie the beginning of AHS to other social imaginaries and argues that the current period that we are in calls for new imaginaries.
Williams argues for a rethinking of humanism. Humanism, which is rooted in a Euro-humanist tradition, is by definition alienating; a tool and an outcome for differentiation, domination, and dehumanization. For a true humanism to exist, it most avoid the structuring structures of racial capitalism and white supremacy. It must be, as Williams notes, “radical and revolutionary.” This probably means re-starting the humanist project and placing it outside of the cognitive boundaries and borders that have circumscribed our efforts to imagine ourselves as counter hegemonic.
Jackson and katz-fishman (2026) likewise place humanist thought in the troubled period of the “Enlightenment.” Using a counter framing to the Enlightenment, namely a Marxist foundation for humanist sociology, they argue that in the polycrisis we as humanists needs to act as agents for social change. Similar to Dolgon and Adair they note that humanist sociology has from its beginning rejected a value-free orientation. And like Williams they argue that to be relevant we must be revolutionary.
Cherry (2026) reminds readers that AHS is concerned not just with sociology for people, but also sociology for the planet; that is humans and non-humans alike. Her chapter argues for a decentering of humans and away from our anthropogenic roots. For Cherry, humanist sociology is uniquely positioned to bring nature into sociology as neglecting nature, especially animals, will simply create larger (and more complex) social issues for humans. Using environmental racism, food workers’ innate human rights, and intimate partner violence, she shows how bringing animals (and other non-human agents) into the sociological sphere makes sense. Some of her previous work, such as
Settembrino (2026), like Cherry, is also thinking about how humanists can become better sociologists and vice-versa. Settembrino shows how practicing yoga has led to a more reflexive pedagogy and has created pathways for contemplative practices in the classroom. Taking the reader on a journey through his experiences teaching about race, Settembrino shows students’ reactions to meditative practices and active learning techniques. In doing so Settembrino provides an important lesson, “humanist sociology must reintegrate professors into models of teaching and learning. In other words, humanist pedagogy must recognize both students and teachers as fully human and support faculty in the process of reclaiming our shared humanity and agency.”
Islam and Brunsma (2026) find in their chapter the parallels between the mission and work of AHS and other similar minded organizations/fields. Sharing the commitment in Adair and Dolgon’s work, and one that AHS takes seriously, to abolishing disciplinary boundaries, they review fields and key works to demonstrate that humanism is at its very core—interdisciplinary. Furthermore, like Adair they see this as a time where humanist ways of thinking and scholarship could flourish. For Islam and Brunsma this push could possibly be even greater within the academy as more and more academics are becoming disenchanted with status quo academia and increasingly look to new epistemologies.
Unplanned, but perhaps also unavoidable, three contributors take up the question of whether it is possible to do humanist sociology in today’s academy. These contributions focus in part on how humanist sociology is taught or what might better be thought of as a humanist pedagogy. Many humanist sociologists find their way into
Thakore begins with her path to AHS and then goes on to detail how departments and white students have not always been receptive to her humanist teaching. Furthermore, humanist research can be problematic. She asks questions, “How can we navigate a humanist sociology while amidst an elitist institution that only cares about self-defined prestige?” and “What is the value of AHS and humanist sociology to my bureaucratic institution?” As she notes, however, we make choices and these choices ultimately matter for we are. At times to be a humanist sociologist, is, to paraphrase Aldon Morris, a sociologist denied. Bhoomi notes how her “professional” role as a sociologist is the same everyday identity with which she engaged others. She reminds us that humanism is an everyday practice, not just something we do in our research or teaching.
Harvey (2026) likewise notes the difficulties of being a humanist sociologist. In particular, he focuses on the difference between being an activist-scholar and a scholar-activist. Using three vignettes of his field work in New Orleans in the long-term aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Harvey details instances where residents who were familiar with his academic background ask him to assist them with specific problems. Here he sees himself as a resource for residents and nonprofits. He counters this with his experience at a highly selective liberal arts college where he works–a college that highly prizes work with community partners. Unlike when he was embedded in the community, as a scholar-activist, he notes it is more difficult to be a resource for community members. Embeddedness in a university/college setting requires academics to work on their own research and teaching agenda (not to mention engagement with other professional duties, such as committee work, advising, maintaining membership in professional societies/associations) and that agenda does not always overlap with that of a community partner. As such, the mismatch often ends with work being done that is not useful for the organization or perhaps not pedagogically useful for undergraduate students. He notes his privilege in this situation and concludes that it begs the question of whether doing humanist sociology is possible in academia.
Lippard (2026) is more optimistic about the practice of humanist sociology and academia’s ability to engage in community collaboration. Using the work of John Glass, Cameron notes that aligning themselves with social movement advocates pressing for social change, humanists have set themselves apart from the majority who are comfortable with the status quo, and thus are seen as “too liberal” (see also Scott and katz-fishman). He lays out three hurdles that humanists face in the polycrisis, but believes humanists are primed to help shape future discussions. Lippard wants to resolve conflict with others, eschew cancel culture, and instead focus on the institutions that create and benefit from social, cultural, and class divides.
One might argue that since the object of study for most sociologists, indeed most social scientists, are humans, are not we all humanists? As Goodwin and Schwartz (2005) note in their response to a similar question, the simple answer is no. The longer answer is perhaps more complicated. Humanists seek out those contexts where there are differences in power or broad inequalities serve as potential spaces for humanists to work in. Humanists pop up in those places where moral norms and moral discourses become disputed. They seek out communities where conflict is a constant or where communities have become disrupted or fragmented. Contexts here thus refer to both spatial and/or social demarcations. The familiar question “Why are all the black kids sitting together in the cafeteria?” (Tatum 1997), would be answered by not only looking at how racial boundaries in schools are physically maintained, but also how social relations create and maintain those boundaries. Thus cafeteria tables, school grounds (Jena 6), or even supposedly shared spaces such as study halls, can be used to maintain differences, but only because of and with social institutions. The answer to why are all the Black kids sitting together for a humanist is because, well, white supremacy. But that is not the final answer because the final answer is action.
Humanists do not consent to the myth of value-neutral sociology. We might even go further to ask what would be the good in doing value-neutral sociology? What kind of sociologists would study suffering, inequality, racism, or gender violence, but have no desire to mitigate or ameliorate that suffering, inequality, racism, and/or violence? And why would sociologists (or any social scientist) champion such a position? Humanist sociologists admit, to make it simple, to being human. As such, our advocating for sociologists to engage, positions our origin story in U.S. scholars such as Ida B. Wells, W.E.B. DuBois, and Peter Berger, but also rooted in Eastern, European, and South American classical traditions; for example, see Karl Marx, but also Guerreiro Ramos and Manabendra Nath Roy; it is an origin story whose allegory is the intent of improving the human condition. It’s what makes us human humanists.
We hope that if have not already joined us, you will one day. Either in these pages or more preferably at our annual conference. You will be welcomed.
In arms,
Daina Cheyenne Harvey
David G. Embrick
Footnotes
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.