Review Essays

Cultural Theory in History Today

RICHARD HANDLER

In his contribution to Beyond the Cultural Turn, Richard Biernacki argues that the semiotically grounded relativism of post-1960s culture theorists has led them to reject all foundationalisms except their own. Taking Clifford Geertz as emblematic of this trend, Biernacki writes that he "introduced the actuality of culture as a general and necessary truth rather than as a useful construction. The investigator's abstract theory of the semiotic dimension and of its elemental constitution was an unacknowledged exception to the principle that knowledge is local, situated, and conjured by convention."1	1
This is an apt challenge to us anthropologists who situate ourselves among several lineages of semioticians—symbols-and-meanings theorists (including Geertz) who go back to Franz Boas, Max Weber, or Emile Durkheim, and to many social philosophers before them (for example, Johann von Herder, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Giambattista Vico, or Michel de Montaigne). I confess to being guilty, though not quite as Biernacki charges. I do indeed think that semiosis is "general," in the sense of universal, in all human experience. And "culture," the term that American anthropologists since Boas have used to refer to this semiotic dimension of human experience, thus becomes, in this anthropological tradition, a "necessary" analytic term. But this does not mean that "culture" is not a "construction." It does, however, mean that, as a construction, culture trumps other currently fashionable social-scientific terms such as power, class, gender, race, practice, the economy, and, yes, "the social."	2
Thus it should come as no surprise that I find the programmatic thrust laid out by the editors of Beyond the Cultural Turn to be, in a word, uninteresting. The spatial metaphor of the title, "beyond the cultural turn," suggests that this work will take us into uncharted territory. Nonetheless, editors Victoria Bonnell and Lynn Hunt announce at the outset that their project is recuperative rather than exploratory. I have no quarrel with recuperation. Most of what's "new" in contemporary social-science theory has been said before, and it is often more useful to grapple with past articulations of ideas than to "relexify" them (to borrow a term from the anthropologist Robert Brightman) with shiny new jargon. 2 But I cannot find any value in the particular recuperative move the editors champion—to rehabilitate the concept of "the social" while taking into account the lessons of culture theory:	3
By casting doubt on the central concept of the social, the cultural turn raises many problems for historical sociology and social history, not least the question of their relationship to each other. Yet as scholars in both disciplines confront the issues raised by the breakdown of the positivist and the Marxist paradigms, they may well find common ground again in a redefinition or revitalization of the social. Although the authors in this collection have all been profoundly influenced by the cultural turn, they have refused to accept the obliteration of the social that is implied by the most radical forms of culturalism or poststructuralism. The status or meaning of the social may be in question, affecting both social history and historical sociology, but life without it has proved impossible.3
"Impossible for whom," I might ask. There are many anthropologists who never saw much use for an analytic distinction between the social and the cultural. This is especially so for many of us in the Boasian tradition (which, though not without its positivist strands and Marxist practitioners, is neither positivist nor Marxist). And some of us Boasians (myself included) argue that the distinction between the social and the cultural is not only unnecessary, it is theoretically pernicious. It misleads us into thinking that the social is somehow closer to "the ground" or to "concrete practice"—in sum, "more real"—than culture, which, as symbols, meanings, and ideas, is some kind of second-order phenomenon that comments on an already-constituted social-practical domain. It is a rationalization of our ancient mind/body dualism, and although most or all of the contributors to Beyond the Cultural Turn would explicitly reject that dualism as the basis for their analytic categories, the editors' call to rehabilitate the social reproduces it.	4
Within twentieth-century Anglo-American anthropology, the battle between the social and the cultural has often come to life in the jealousies and rivalries between British social anthropology and American cultural anthropology. A key figure on the British side was A. R. Radcliffe-Brown, who propounded an ostensibly Durkheimian "social anthropology" by purging the semiotic side of Durkheim's social theory. "Let us consider," wrote Radcliffe-Brown in a famous essay,	5
what are the concrete, observable facts with which the social anthropologist is concerned. If we set out to study, for example, the aboriginal inhabitants of a part of Australia, we find a certain number of individual human beings in a certain natural environment. We can observe the acts of behaviour of these individuals, including, of course, their acts of speech, and the material products of past actions. We do not observe a "culture," since that word denotes, not any concrete reality, but an abstraction . . . But direct observation does reveal to us that these human beings are connected by a complex network of social relations. I use the term "social structure" to denote this network of actually existing relations.4
Radcliffe-Brown's premise, that we can "observe" the social but not the cultural, is flawed. We can indeed observe, see, talk to, and interact with people, but all such activities are semiotic, or, in a related jargon, culturally constructed. Such activities have no "concrete" existence prior to, or independent of, the semiotic processes in which they inhere. Nor can we, as social scientists or participants, study or learn about such activities without engaging "the natives" or "the actors" in a conversation about the meaning of their actions. Thus we can no more observe society, social structure, or social relations than we can culture, ideas, or ideology. As Claude Lévi-Strauss reminded us, back at the beginning of the present cultural turn, "the term 'social structure' has nothing to do with empirical reality but with models built up after it."5 This argument is persuasive despite the fact that the natives themselves often have concepts about "the social." They may, for example, use such words as "family" or "lineage," but those concepts are not labels for empirically observable things. Rather, they are models people use to navigate their lives. As a great semiotician of an earlier cultural turn, Edward Sapir, put it: "The so-called culture of a group of human beings, as it is ordinarily treated by the cultural anthropologist, is essentially a systematic list of all the socially inherited patterns of behavior which may be illustrated in the actual behavior of all or most of the individuals of the group. The true locus, however, of these processes which, when abstracted into a totality, constitute culture is not in a theoretical community of human beings known as society, for the term 'society' is itself a cultural construct which is employed by individuals who stand in significant relations to each other in order to help them in the interpretation of certain aspects of their behavior."6	6
I will return to this passage below, but here I want to pursue the argument that the editors of Beyond the Cultural Turn implicitly buy into a mind-body dualism that leads them to give more credence to the society-culture duality than it deserves. This is most easily seen in their recourse to that naïvely oxymoronic term "material culture." "Surely it is no accident," Bonnell and Hunt remark, "that much exciting work . . . now focuses on material culture, one of the arenas in which culture and social life most obviously and significantly intersect, where culture takes concrete form and those concrete forms make cultural codes most explicit. Work on furniture, guns, or clothing . . . draws our attention to the material ways in which culture becomes part of everyday social experience."7 The notion here is that culture is abstract, and the social, as epitomized in "material culture," is concrete. Yet why would anyone ever imagine that "material" things produced by human beings are not fully cultural? Similarly, the most "ideal" of human products—a system of grammatical categories, let's say—is accessible to humans only in some material form, sound waves or lines on paper. From this perspective, all culture has a material dimension and all humanly tooled material has a cultural dimension. The term "material culture" is unnecessary, unless you believe, as the quoted passage suggests, that the distinction between an immaterial culture and a "concrete" social life is a useful one—a position that is a variation on Radcliffe-Brown's distinction between observable social relations and abstract culture.	7
This position sometimes underpins notions about "practice," a topic that both Biernacki and William H. Sewell review in the first two essays of the volume, the only two explicitly devoted to what anthropologists used to call "culture theory." Sewell describes the recent turn to "culture-as-practice" as a reaction to Geertz's and, especially, the anthropologist David Schneider's versions of "culture-as-systems-of-meanings" approaches. Schneider and Geertz used Talcott Parsons' grand theory—which posited personality, social, and cultural systems as analytically distinct components in a layer-cake model of social action—to revitalize the concept of culture within anthropology. Schneider in particular was outspoken about the need to study "the cultural system" abstracted from social action, but, as Sewell points out, that strategy obscured the necessary connection of culture and action, or "system" and "practice": "To engage in cultural practice means to utilize existing cultural symbols to accomplish some end. The employment of a symbol can be expected to accomplish a particular goal only because the symbols have more or less determinate meanings—meanings specified by their systematically structured relations to other symbols. Hence practice implies system. But it is equally true that the system has no existence apart from the succession of practices that instantiate . . . it. Hence system implies practice. System and practice constitute an indissoluble duality or dialectic."8	8
This "dialectic of social life" is a foundational concept in most modernist social theory. It can be figured, as Sewell does here, in terms of system and practice, structure and action, or, in the work of many second and third-generation Boasian anthropologists, as well as that of modernist poets and critics, as culture and personality or "tradition and the individual talent." "No individual," wrote Ruth Benedict, "can arrive even at the threshold of his potentialities without a culture," and "no civilization has in it any element which in the last analysis is not the contribution of an individual."9 Or, as Edward Sapir put it, in the sequel to the passage quoted above: "The true locus of culture is in the interactions of specific individuals and, on the subjective side, in the world of meanings which each one of these individuals may unconsciously abstract for himself from his participation in these interactions. Every individual is, then, in a very real sense, a representative of at least one sub-culture which may be abstracted from the generalized culture of the group of which he is a member."10 For Sapir, culture exists in action, and both anthropologists and actors abstract meanings and models from their interactions, even as meanings and models make action possible in the first place. Culture, we might say, ought to be conceptualized as a verb, not a noun—which is another way to say, as Sewell does, that system and practice are indissoluble.	9
I part company with Sewell, however, when he posits that "power relations or spatiality or resource distributions" are structuring "aspects" of practice and, as such, "relatively autonomous" from culture. "These dimensions of practice," he writes, "mutually shape and constrain each other . . . Hence, even if an action were almost entirely determined by, say, overwhelming disparities in economic resources, those disparities would still have to be rendered meaningful in action according to a semiotic logic."11 From the perspective of an individual, like the "impoverished worker" Sewell offers as an example, economic inequality, residential segregation, and state power are indeed constraining. They cannot be wished away, or interpreted out of existence, although, as Sewell notes, most individuals will try to make sense of such implacable constraints. But from the perspective of those of us who analyze "history" or "system," such constraints are every bit as semiotic or cultural as a grammatical category or the sonnet form. They are institutionalized instantiations of cultural distinctions that people made in the past and continue to enact in the present. They are not, as Sewell suggests, non-cultural aspects of action to which people attach labels as they respond to them.	10
Biernacki sketches a more satisfactory conception of practice. As I noted at the outset, he is worried about the foundationalism of semiotic theories in general, but his particular bête noire is the model of culture as a text, a model made popular at least in part by Geertz. Biernacki maintains that when culture is modeled as a text (and only as such), theorists tend to equate the semiotic aspect of practice with referential assertion: in such theorizing, "to engage in practice is to utilize a semiotic code to stipulate something about the world." Biernacki urges us to go beyond these "semantic" models "to focus . . . on the implicit schemas employed in practice, rather than analyzing only representations of or for practice." Thus he lauds research that explores "bodily competencies," "style[s] of practice," and "pragmatic" meanings, or "the experienced import of practice."12 In these approaches, the notion of practice as on-the-ground action (not merely as pointing to the world, or reference) does not lead back to the idea that it is material or social as opposed to ideal or cultural. Rather, the very materiality of practice is shown to be semiotic.	11
But what about Biernacki's attack on semiotic foundationalism? He argues that, "just as the old historians advanced their project by naturalizing concepts such as 'class' or 'social community,' so cultural historians construed their own counter notions, such as that of the 'sign,' as part of the natural furniture of the human world, rather than as something invented by the observer."13 Without speaking for "cultural historians," I will admit that anthropological relativists often speak nonrelativistically about culture and semiosis, as in the assertion: all human knowledge is culturally constructed, or semiotically mediated, and hence relative to the symbol system (language) in which it is conceptualized. This is a contradiction (of the "all Cretans are liars" variety), but one that makes sense. Language has a "metalinguistic" feature: people use language to talk about language. There is nothing impossible about the notion that people can recognize their dependence on language and the limitations it imposes and simultaneously use language to explore the world, to gain knowledge.	12
Cultural anthropologists' recognition of the primacy of language, culture, and semiotic mediation does not, however, necessarily lead us to "naturalize" those concepts, as Biernacki claims cultural historians have done. On this matter, it is instructive to return to Geertz, to one of the relatively unquoted essays in The Interpretation of Culture, "The Impact of the Concept of Culture on the Concept of Man." There Geertz argues that cultural particularity is the only human common denominator: what we share (our reliance on culture) is the very thing that makes us differ among ourselves. Moreover, there is no "human nature" manifested in cultural universals underpinned by natural (psychobiological) constants.14 To extend Geertz's argument, "nature" is itself a cultural construction. It may be true, then, as Biernacki charges, that anthropologists accept culture as a foundational concept, but semiotic theories of culture do not naturalize it. Returning to Biernacki's argument, quoted at the outset, to accept "the actuality of culture as a general and necessary truth" does not preclude recognizing the term "as a useful construction." All theory, and all knowledge, is at once "abstract" (that is, semiotically mediated) and "local, situated, and conjured by convention."	13
Local theory has an analogue in what I like to call "particularized cross-cultural comparison." This is an old Boasian strategy (and we find it prefigured in such writers as Alexis de Tocqueville, Montesquieu, Jonathan Swift, and Montaigne as well). Ruth Benedict, for example, developed her critique of middle-class American culture by playing it off against Native American cultures of the Northwest Coast, Puritan New England, and Japan. Benjamin Lee Whorf explored the peculiarities of what he called "Standard Average European" grammars by comparing them to the grammars of Hopi and Shawnee.15 Although one can criticize these works as essentializing (Benedict, for example, says the Kwakiutl are "megalomanical"), they are useful models of relativistic knowledge-making: analysis of the tenses of Hopi grammar makes it possible to see the myriad ways in which European grammars spatialize time. Presumably, comparisons to other grammatical systems would reveal other peculiarities of our own conceptual system. The point is not to define or characterize that system once and for all, but repeatedly to see it anew, cast into relief by the features of other systems, other cultures, other lived worlds.	14
The question of cross-cultural comparison occupies several of the authors in this volume, but they advance different comparative strategies. In general, one might imagine a typology of comparative approaches that range from positivistic, or universalizing, cross-cultural comparisons at one end to interpretive, or particularizing, comparisons at the other. What I am calling positivistic comparisons examine a range of cases to come up with universal "laws" of society or socio-cultural evolution. A "law" in this tradition is generally understood to posit relations of causality. The analyst looks at a range of cases deemed by some set of criteria to be comparable ("tribal societies," "hunting-and-gathering bands," "chieftaincies," and so on), isolates differences, and looks for the causal mechanisms that might explain them. (For example, given a "hunting-and-gathering subsistence base," why do we find patrilineal lineages in one case, matrilineal in another?) None of the contributors to Beyond the Cultural Turn advocates anything so crudely evolutionary, but editors Bonnell and Hunt do not wish to abandon "the possibility of objective—that is, verifiable—comparable results"—whatever they may mean by "objective" and "verifiable" (they do not tell us).16	15
Margaret C. Jacob (in her essay "Science Studies after Social Construction") offers a more Weberian approach to comparison. Jacob argues that, in its extreme form, the cultural turn in science studies has led to a notion that science is nothing but cultural construction with no "objective" purchase on nature. Assuming this epistemological position (or dodging the question of nature altogether), scholars of science-making have become too exclusively focused on local cultures. The resultant "microhistories" of "local experiences and practices that are seen to affect the scientist" overlook, Jacob argues, the "big questions" concerning both global trends and the relationship of scientific knowledge to nature and truth.17 Why has science flourished in some places and not others, why has science "after 1700" vanquished competing explanatory systems such as those associated with magic and alchemy, and what sense does it make in the current transnational world to continue to think of science as a uniquely Western phenomenon?18 To address such questions, she urges a (re)turn to comparative studies. Microhistorical studies of the cultural (including political and institutional) factors that structure science can be used comparatively, according to Jacob, both to illuminate particular cases and to answer those larger questions. The approach is, loosely, "Weberian" because it depends on deep historical study of unique places and times to answer a "world-historical" question conceptualized in terms of an "ideal-type"—capitalism, in Weber's famous studies, or science, in the work that Jacob reviews.	16
For the record, I would quibble with Jacob's refusal to abandon a notion of "true science."19 It seems to me that one can accept both cultural constructionism and the overwhelming evidence of "the pragmatic power of science to produce replicable, long-standing maxims about nature."20 That "maxims about nature" can be "long-standing" and that scientific results are "replicable" does not mean that scientific knowledge is not culturally constructed. There is nothing in a semiotic theory of culture that says that symbols do not address the world and allow us to manipulate it. Our knowledge can be effective (as well as longstanding) without being "objective" in the sense of absolutely true. Nonetheless, Jacob does well to keep open the question of the relationship between science and nature, and to point out that scholars of science-making who are "realists" when they conceptualize the effects of society on science might profit from extending a similar realism to their analysis of the links between science and nature.21	17
Biernacki, like Jacob, advocates a turn from the microhistorical to the comparative. He is less interested, however, in realism than in hermeneutic illumination. Biernacki argues that historical analysis cannot reveal the "ultimate constituents" of social reality, nor should it be judged in terms of an "ideal of verisimilitude." But comparison "between historical cases" and between competing theoretical perspectives allows us to "unmask the suppositional character of our own terms and 'natural' observations." Through comparison, we construct our "explanations" and even our data: "Comparison highlights the inventive but disciplined moment of evidence making. For it affirms that what we recognize as significant about practices varies with the comparisons we conjure."22 But comparison also, for Biernacki (as for Jacob), gives analysts some purchase on historical causality, in particular, on the ways in which cultural practices can "account for differential features" between cases that are in other respects similar. Biernacki admits, however, that it is difficult to know what "causality" is in historical study: "The riddle of . . . how to distinguish causal claims from interpretive ones has vexed the best minds in philosophy for more than a century."23	18
If Bonnell, Hunt, Jacob, and Biernacki present a range of approaches to cross-cultural (and transhistorical) comparison, Steven Feierman's splendid essay, "Colonizers, Scholars, and the Creation of Invisible Histories," argues that disjunctive narrative frameworks can make cross-cultural understanding all but impossible. Like Jacob, Feierman is worried by the gap between local and global histories, but his particular problem, as an Africanist, is that Africa seems perpetually consigned to the local—unworthy, apparently, of yielding macrohistorical narratives that can compete with those concerning "the West." Focusing on the practice of mediums and "public healing in the great lakes region of eastern Africa," Feierman argues that historians' (and colonialists') inability to see healing as anything but "irrational" has meant that they have been able to write about it only as local, "traditional," and exotic. Healing "as a form of practical reason" cannot be seen as efficacious and meaningful within Western macrohistories structured in terms of the categories "religion" and "politics." "The way to redress the balance," Feierman writes, "is to give full attention to the missing term: a larger historical narrative grounded in Africa." He recognizes that such a narrative will be flawed in the same ways that macrohistorical accounts of capitalism (or of science, for that matter) are flawed: their generalizations will "do violence to" the details and meanings of local situations. But placing such phenomena as mediumship and healing within this sort of "alternative macrohistory" will, in a sense, level the playing field for comparative purposes.24	19
It is tempting to say that a semiotic conception of culture presupposes that all theoretical constructs, all comparative perspectives, and all narrative conventions "do violence to" local realities, or to "the facts" themselves. But to phrase the matter negatively creates the expectation that an adequate set of tools would "get it right," not violate the truth. In his afterword to the present volume, Hayden White suggests that historians (and, I would add, anthropologists) have a difficult time relinquishing this expectation. History, according to White, remains "oblivious to the 'fictionality' of what it takes to be its 'data.'" But we should all know better: "it is not as if history provides a . . . zero-degree of factuality against which one can measure distortions in the representation of reality."25 The easiest way out of this bind, it seems to me, is to accept semiosis as a condition of possibility for the creation of any kind of knowledge at all. The theoretical tools we use do make a difference—they influence our choices of questions, our culling of available "data" ("evidence"), they inflect our narrative styles, and, ultimately, they shape the stories we tell. But without such "tools," we could tell no stories at all.	20
In the end, then , there can be no methodological return to "the social" that is not both cultural (a disciplined way of interpreting human activities) and about culture (about symbolic action in the world). And, to be fair, the kinds of evidence, activities, and institutions that some people think of under the rubric "social"—census data, schooling, the division of labor in society—are well worth the attention of any anthropologist or historian who takes an interest in them and has good questions to ask of them. But there is no beyond "beyond the cultural turn," nor is there any non-cultural social domain on the near side of culture. "The real is as imagined as the imaginary," Geertz reminds us, and, we might add, "the imaginary is as real as the real." 26	21
A version of this essay was presented to the departments of anthropology and history at the University of Virginia on March 2, 2001. I thank that audience for their engaged and generous response. Thanks are also due Ira Bashkow, Daniel Segal, and Jeffrey Wasserstrom for their critical encouragement. Richard Handler is a professor of anthropology at the University of Virginia. He is the author of Nationalism and the Politics of Culture in Quebec (1988), The Fiction of Culture: Jane Austen and the Narration of Social Realities (with Daniel Segal; 1990), and The New History in an Old Museum: Creating the Past at Colonial Williamsburg (with Eric Gable; 1997). He is editor of History of Anthropology and is currently completing a book on anthropologists and cultural criticism. Notes 1 Richard Biernacki, "Method and Metaphor after the New Cultural History," in Beyond the Cultural Turn: New Directions in the Study of Society and Culture, Victoria E. Bonnell and Lynn Hunt, eds. (Berkeley, Calif., 1999), 64. 2 Robert Brightman, "Forget Culture: Replacement, Transcendence, Relexification," Cultural Anthropology 10 (1995): 509–46. 3 Victoria E. Bonnell and Lynn Hunt, introduction, Beyond the Cultural Turn, 11. Hunt articulated this position ten years earlier: "Where will we be when every practice, be it economic, intellectual, social, or political, has been shown to be culturally conditioned? To put it another way, can a history of culture work if it is shorn of all theoretical assumptions about culture's relationship to the social world?" Lynn Hunt, introduction, The New Cultural History, Hunt, ed. (Berkeley, Calif., 1989), 10. 4 A. R. Radcliffe-Brown, Structure and Function in Primitive Society (New York, 1965), 189–90. For a quick sketch of the differences between British social and American cultural anthropology, see Robert F. Murphy, The Dialectics of Social Life: Alarms and Excursions in Anthropological Theory (New York, 1971), 17–35; and, more recently, Adam Kuper, Culture: The Anthropologists' Account (Cambridge, Mass., 1999), chap. 1. On the semiotic and positivist sides of Durkheim, see Marshall Sahlins, Culture and Practical Reason (Chicago, 1976), 106–25. 5 Claude Lévi-Strauss, Structural Anthropology, Claire Jacobson and Brooke Grundfest Schoepf, trans. (New York, 1963), 279. 6 Edward Sapir, Selected Writings of Edward Sapir in Language, Culture, and Personality, David Mandelbaum, ed. (Berkeley, Calif., 1949), 515. 7 Bonnell and Hunt, introduction, 11. 8 William H. Sewell, Jr., "The Concept(s) of Culture," in Bonnell and Hunt, Beyond the Cultural Turn, 46–47. 9 Murphy, Dialectics of Social Life; T. S. Eliot, "Tradition and the Individual Talent," in The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism (London, 1920), 47–59; Ruth Benedict, Patterns of Culture (Boston, 1934), 253. 10 Sapir, Selected Writings, 515. 11 Sewell, "Concept(s) of Culture," 48. 12 Biernacki, "Method and Metaphor," 74–75, 75–77. 13 Biernacki, "Method and Metaphor," 63. 14 Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York, 1973), 33–54. 15 Benedict, Patterns of Culture, 246–50, 270–78; Benjamin Lee Whorf, Language, Thought, and Reality (Cambridge, Mass., 1956). 16 Bonnell and Hunt, introduction, 14. 17 Margaret C. Jacob, "Science Studies after Social Construction: The Turn toward the Comparative and the Global," in Bonnell and Hunt, Beyond the Cultural Turn, 97, 115. 18 Jacob, "Science Studies after Social Construction," 109, 115. 19 Jacob, "Science Studies after Social Construction," 115. 20 Jacob, "Science Studies after Social Construction," 98. 21 Jacob, "Science Studies after Social Construction," 113–14. 22 Biernacki, "Method and Metaphor," 79–80, 82. 23 Biernacki, "Method and Metaphor," 82, 73. 24 Steven Feierman, "Colonizers, Scholars, and the Creation of Invisible Histories," in Bonnell and Hunt, Beyond the Cultural Turn, 182–83, 202, 206–07. Feierman's program seems consonant with Joseph C. Miller's recent discussion of an Africa "poised" to take its place among "the world's longer-established historical regions." Like Feierman, Miller predicts that the historiographical transformation of Africa will have a profound impact on European history itself. Miller, "History and Africa/Africa and History," AHR 104 (February 1999): 31. 25 Hayden White, "Afterword," in Bonnell and Hunt, Beyond the Cultural Turn, 322. 26 Clifford Geertz, Negara: The Theater State in Nineteenth-Century Bali (Princeton, N.J., 1980), 136.

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