{'fraction_non_alphanumeric': 0.025914634146341462, 'fraction_numerical': 0.0, 'mean_word_length': 4.424242424242424, 'pattern_counts': {'":': 0, '<': 0, '<?xml version=': 0, '>': 0, 'https://': 0, 'lorem ipsum': 0, 'www.': 0, 'xml': 0}, 'pii_count': 0, 'substrings_counts': 0, 'word_list_counts': {'cursed_substrings.json': 0, 'profanity_word_list.json': 0, 'sexual_word_list.json': 0, 'zh_pornsignals.json': 0}}
The Role of Experience in the Construction of Social Theory: An Essay in Reflexive Sociology

Unusually for an article in a journal of academic sociology, two personal political reminiscences provide a fundamental point of departure. I remember, first, being lost with four or five others at the end of a gruelling second day of an Aldermaston march. We had somehow managed to take a wrong turning just before reaching our overnight billet and, tired to the point of exhaustion, we found ourselves wandering bemusedly through a maze of residential streets, all semi-detacheds, lace curtains and neat grass verges. At that moment the utter remoteness of those streets from everything we were attempting to bring home to them through the march struck me with a force I can still remember today. We could see nothing stirring, nor hear any sound save our own hysterical giggling. There were no doubt people in those houses, spending their Easter holiday as they had always done; as I had always done until this particular Easter. But between them and us, there was no connection. We were in a foreign land, which was all the more foreign to me because I was acutely conscious of the fact that, in my everyday life, it was also my land. We, who were supposed to be dramatising for the whole nation the most important political issue of our time, did not touch them. The debate about the political influence of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament continues; though, as the movement recedes in memory, it declines into the fading conversation of old soldiers. For me, however, its impact is captured by the memory I have recalled. We did not touch them. Nor did we touch those in power. For a moment we thought we had, but Cuba ended that illusion and with it, C.N.D. Nor, if I am honest, can I pretend that its stated political objectives ever constituted the real meaning of C.N.D. for me. The movement may have meant many things, to other participants as to me— f̂un, an