Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility: The Life Course of Working-Class University Graduates 2012012970, 9780415510271, 9780203094433

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility The Life Course of Working-Class University Graduates Mick Matthys Translated by Naomi Perlzweig

O Routledge Group j ? j ^ ^ Taylor & Francisi Gr NEW YORK

LONDON

First published 2013 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Simultaneously published in the UK by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2013 Taylor & Francis The right of Mick Matthys to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Matthys, Mick. Cultural capital, identity, and social mobility : the life course of working-class university graduates / Mick Matthys. p. cm. — (Routledge advances in sociology ; 79) Includes bibliographical references. 1. Social mobility. 2. College graduates—Social conditions. 3. Working class—Social conditions. I. Title. HN90.S65M326 2012 305.5'13—dc23 2012012970 ISBN13: 978-0-415-51027-1 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-09443-3 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by IBT Global.

Contents

List of Tables Preface 1

(When) Working Class-Children Enter Academic Learning: Problem Formulation, the Field and Method

ix xi

1

2

A Tough Life?

30

3

Identity, Context and Agency

44

4

A Firm Foundation

65

5

A Successful Transformation

96

6

Career and Life

126

7

Hicks and Proletarians

164

8

Reflections: The Part I Have Played

195

9

Abstract and Conclusions

223

Appendix: List of Respondents Notes References Index

249 251 255 267

Tables

1.1 List of Potential Respondents, Utrecht University 1.2 Classification of Potential Respondents Regarding Gender, Field of Study and Career Success 1.3 Final Selection of Respondents

18 19 21

Preface

This study is a qualitative investigation into the course of life and career of academic graduates who have grown up in the Netherlands and Flanders, in working-class families, during the second half of the twentieth century. Participants graduated from college in the sixties and seventies. Biographical stories have been recorded in the fi nal phase of their careers and are about the meaning of growing up in working-class families and communities. The study was performed between 2006 and 2010 at the School of Governance of the Utrecht University. One of the respondents, a sociologist, told me that he had always had a latent curiosity for the meaning of his own background but that he never could have imagined—before the commencement of his sociology study—that he would one day be the subject of study and research. Even though the topic of working-class children and university education has intrigued me since the time of my own schooling, it was only at the end of my career that I thought to devote a study to the subject. Nonetheless, I have always been convinced that my social background has been consequential for the manner in which I have led my life, and that it has given shape to my scientific career. I therefore wholeheartedly—based on my own experience—endorse the relationship that Deetz (2005: 87) establishes between his biography, on the one hand, and his theoretical orientation as a scientist, on the other. At the same time, I am aware that this influence can be displayed with a myriad of diversity, depending on the individual, personal experience, gender, time period, and so on. The following questions arise: What is the source of these forms of experience? How are these experiences manifested? Are there reasons that we can assume that they can be recognized by others? It is through this research that I aim to formulate answers. The enthusiastic responses to this research, from friends, family and colleagues, were a powerful source of motivation. It was remarkable how fascinated all those I spoke with were about the subject. There was great curiosity about the results and especially notable how a floodgate of memories was triggered in those from lower social origins. The Dutch publication of this book has received considerable media attention but what stands out,

xii Preface above all, is how those with shared experiences identify with my respondents. Even with my research focusing on university graduates at the end of their careers, individuals who have never even taken the step towards a university education have been able to identify with the book’s biographical stories. The subject is tangible for many, including those who do not originate from working-class milieus. But during the process of all the intriguing interviews, I felt an ever-growing necessity to transcend the point of anecdotes and “juicy stories” and to initiate a pursuit for constants and mechanisms. With the completion of the research, I am entirely convinced that I could not have taken this on, nor above all have concluded it, at an earlier point in time. Both my age and my belonging to the target group are relevant here. I clarify the details, in this regard, in the fi rst chapter. This connection means more than an intellectual confrontation with the data, and there is an emotional impact as well. The fact that my milieu and origin lie far behind me has helped me maintain professional distance, essential for a researcher. This does not mean that I have not been touched by these stories. My wife, Marian, and, with her, Anton Kramer, reminded me to remain open to the value of emotions during the unavoidable intellectual assault accompanying a study of this nature. In the realm of intellectual challenge, Joop Maassen was my unfailing steady rock, with more than ample sensitivity to the emotional aspects of the process. His erudition, philosophical scholarship and sharp analysis pushed me to reflect, time and again, on my theoretical and methodical assumptions. My genuine gratitude goes to my thirty-two respondents, for allowing me a view into their lives. Their testimonies contain more than just relevant information; they are fi lled with authentic life experience, undergone in all its facets. And this, in itself, is invaluable. I also want to sincerely thank Peter Leisink and Jan Brands for their theoretical and methodical support. I also am grateful to the board of Utrecht School of Governance for giving me the opportunity for this study. While working on this study, my granddaughters, Sophie and Rosa, were born, making me a grandfather and presenting me with a new and uncharted role. These pivotal events have compelled me to pause and witness life’s mystery and unstoppable flow. And even a life’s work could never contend with the power of their love. And this too undeniably goes for their parents, Carry and Bernd. Mick Matthys Utrecht, March 2012

1

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning Problem Formulation, the Field and Method

1.1

INTRODUCTION

In the introduction of his Dutch study of academically educated children of uneducated parents, Jan Brands (1990) expresses his discontent about a lack of available documentation regarding his subjects’ high school and college experiences. This is also the case regarding their careers following their studies’ completion. Social science studies on the destiny and personal experience of this group of social movers, following academic years, are not plentiful. At the same time, there is a fascination for the men and women from humble beginnings who “make it, against the odds.” What especially strikes me in the accounts of Brands and the American anthologies (Barney Dews & Leste Law, 1995; Lubrano, 2004; Ryan & Sackrey, 1996; Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993), and also in novels, is the inner struggle that these educated individuals must inevitably undergo, in order to make the most of the opportunities the new social setting has to offer. They are frustrated by the pressure from a perceived necessity to remain loyal to “where they’ve come from” and a constant awareness of the disparity in background with their peers. Compared to those from a higher class, there is a painful gap between the promise of professional entry-level qualifications (namely a university degree) and the individual, as well as the cultural equipment needed to push off with a career. The significance of above-mentioned studies is the insight they provide into the psychological consequences of this gap and how it is bridged. From the perspective of origins, age, and career, I too unquestionably belong to this group. That is why these narratives are so familiar to me. Like so many other boys from European Catholic working-class families, a seminary study program paved the way to my university education. Following my taking leave of the seminary at the end of sixties, I became an active member of the student movement and, after graduation, did assembly-line work in a tractor factory. The initial years of my fi rst university job were motivated by the ideology of working-class emancipation and preceded by four years of union organizing.

2

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

Thirty years later, it is evident that since the start of my career, the times have changed as I have. From this perspective, comparing my original and current milieu, I see that both changing cultural differences and roles have led to an unmistakable shift. The experience of change is rooted in history and there is a story to be told.

1.2

INITIAL PROBLEM FORMULATION

Several core elements of the issue that I want to investigate further can be revealed through personal experience, literature and interviews. In the initial portrayal of the problem in question, I refer to personal experience. My aim, however, as a result of these experiences, is to explore the constants and patterns in the organization of the lives and careers of those with comparable experiences. This way, I indicate my personal position regarding this issue and at the same time pose the question of, if and to what extent these specific and unique experiences point to more general social and (inter)subjective configurations. The second chapter will further systematically explore the question, founded on literature.

Constant Awareness of Being Different Despite an unmistakable sense of integration in my current milieu, an awareness of the significance of a discrepancy in origin has never left me. This awareness manifests itself in various ways. And similar to Brands’s (1992) account, in order to belong I have made use of the values learned from my parental background on various levels. All the while, I have safeguarded such core values with a critical reserve and an emphasis on solidarity and community and with an aversion to pretentiousness. In the course of my life, both the experience and the significance of this discrepancy have been transformed. And I feel that the values that matter most have been incorporated into my identity. Based on this experience, I aim to discover how my target group currently views the significance of the values that defi ne discrepancies, if and how this has changed over time, the direction this change has taken, and the influences that have motivated change.

Ambition Levels Another discrepancy I experienced, not explicitly revealed by Brands, was the level of ambition at the start of my career. When I initially started my job at the university, I had the sense that I had arrived; I had, after all, the security of a permanent contract. My father’s approval of this fact was very obvious. His permanent contract as a municipal worker came only late in his career and took a great

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

3

deal of effort to secure. Contrary to my attitude, colleagues with backgrounds among the higher classes saw their positions as self-evident, in other words “This is where I belong,” as opposed to my outlook, “What have I done to deserve this?” Although I no longer feel this way, it has certainly influenced developments in my career. Also motivating my pursuit is the aim to discover if this also applies to comparable careers and to careerrelated events.

Family Despite the fact that my father lacked any formal schooling and my mother had only had vocational training, their children’s education was a key concern. My siblings and I had intellectual abilities and after overcoming initial feelings of unfamiliarity with the task, my parents took the initiative to actively search for studies for us. There were, however, certain social antecedents involved. My maternal grandfather was a small agrarian entrepreneur with social ambitions; his daughters encouraged each other with support and solidarity in their approach towards the education of one another’s children. Compared to my father’s peers, in relation to their children, this was a very different mindset. The resultant questions are if this matriarchal incentive and subsequent culture of childrearing is recognizable to others and how it influences the development of personality and career.

The First-Generation College Students My working-class contemporaries, who followed university studies in the same period I did, were members of the fi rst group to profit from educational democratization (Egerton & Halsey, 1993). Although universities went through a considerable expansion during the fi rst half of the 1900s, university students from working-class backgrounds were an exception (Dyhouse, 2001). Since the 1960s, educational policy has been clearly focused on extending educational opportunities for working-class children; still, initially, their participation remained behind (Wesselingh, 1979). Regardless, numerous families took advantage of these measures and their children became the fi rst in their families to go to college. Thus, for the fi rst time, a generation of college students emerged in working-class families, and consequently so did a diversity of career choices. This aspect of diversity also applies to the family I come from. Of all the siblings, I was the only one to attend university, albeit via a detour. The study choices of my siblings demonstrated rather the standard pattern as described by Vandekerckhove and Huyse (1976). They show how the orientation is directed towards a steady job as teacher, a profession at a senior secondary vocational level or higher professional educational

4

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

level. My siblings’ studies, however, took place closer to home and despite the generational battles they fought with my parents—in my place—it was easier for my parents to relate to them than me. They lived at home after graduation and, as customary at the time in Belgian Flanders, handed their salaries over to my parents during the initial years of their careers. I was able to escape the pressure of this demand through the path I took to the university via a pre-seminary program and seminary studies. Years later, I learned from a brother that my mother’s collaboration with her sisters, aimed at implementing upward social mobility, had been experienced by him as a burden; he felt that the chance to fulfill his career goal as a car mechanic had been frustrated. A similar scheme deprived one of my sisters of the option to attend art academy. Having presented my parents with the predicament of my determination to study further seems to have been compensated later with an obsessive obligation to choose among a limited range of vocations according to rigid standards. The apparent purpose was to guard socially acceptable boundaries. It appears that a university education unleashes a significant impact on family culture. An additional question is how others have experienced the influence of their own family culture on their study choice, internal family communication and further life.

Communication with the Parental Milieu A few respondents in Brands’s study portrayed the gap caused by their college education as severed communication. The parents did not have the slightest inkling about the import of their children’s studies and the children, in turn, lacked the ability to explain or discuss their studies with the parents. Even though at fi rst glance this simply resembles a generation gap, it is valid to question if this is actually the case or if there is more beneath the surface than a universal pattern between children and parents. My parents lacked the ability to explain to family and friends what in fact it was that I was studying (social pedagogy) and what it was preparing me to do, career-wise. This was not only because it was too difficult for them to express, but, even more so, genuine interest from the others fell short. Moreover, the fact that they allowed their children to study at all was met with resentment (see also Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). All the more, I assumed that my new experiences were beyond their grasp or would be met with dismissal. They did not ask and I did not tell. Whether my reaction was triggered by personal interests, loyalty or self defense—aimed at avoiding the chance of alienation—I did not feel that I could involve them with my life away from home. I suspect that this deadlock in communication influenced the manner in which I resigned myself to the situation and learned to deal with problems I have encountered throughout life. This particular illustration of non-communication raises the question if this situation is familiar to other working-class academics.

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

5

Study and Career Choices Who are the other working-class academics? My story and as those of Brands are from academics involved in one way or another with university education and/or research in the social sector. However, Vandekerckhove and Huyse (1976) show that children from working-class families tend towards science and more practical studies: engineering, for example. Later they look for jobs in business or education, as chemistry or physics teachers, for example. Vandekerckhove and Huyse attribute this preference pattern to the preventative social control exercised by parents and family to avoid an excess of alienation between themselves and their child. This control becomes thus internalized and is expressed through the graduate’s desire to remain socially recognizable to parents and family and friends at home; this is further reinforced by the longing for job security (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976: 77). My desire to remain socially recognizable to my parents was not an alien emotion. By studying philosophy and social sciences I had—at least in my perception—developed interests unknown to them and was now speaking a foreign language. In order to maintain contact, I continued to speak our local dialect at home and joined conversations about the topics central to their lives. Still, these were neither my life nor my topics. Would communication have been smoother if I had become a local high school teacher or opted for a more technical profession—through which common ground for experience and exchange would have continued to exist? Do working-class children more often chose a teaching career because it is easier for parents to relate to such a job and its accompanying status? Do they choose a scientific field because it is closer to their parents’ (practical)way of thinking?

The (Non-)Evident Academic Education As a youth, I was fascinated by the local university. This fascination, however, was accompanied by the understanding that a study there lay beyond my reach. The question was not if I had the capability to handle the study, but how I could personally survive all the other aspects involved. It never even entered my mind to seek out advice, and apparently no one thought to advise me. For some of my schoolmates university was an attainable option, while for others it was no less than self-evident. Regarding the latter, it was simply a continuation of family tradition. For the former there was ample support to keep the option open. In my case the option was excluded. There was no tradition and—as I believed at the time—no means of support or encouragement. Still, this fascination endured, which eventually resulted in an academic position. The mixed feelings, however, were not so easily shed. When I entered academia as a staff member, my initial feelings were surprise and disbelief. Only later was I able to experience pride at my achievement. Where does working-class

6

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

children’s fascination for college begin? Is it its infeasibility? Does this lend it a mythical aura?

1.3

CENTRAL QUESTION

The above tentative and personally inspired investigation of the field in question provides a preliminary indication towards both the social and cultural obstacles, such as the stimulating mechanisms, that children from lower social classes encounter when they make the decision to go to college. Even when the aspiration has fi nally become reality, this brief exploration shows that family culture and childrearing practices leave long-lasting marks in the course of life. The central and linking question is the following: What is the significance of the original environment for identity, perception and structuring of the life course for men and women from lower social classes, who via a university education attain higher professional positions in society’s higher classes? This central question is developed in the following sub-questions: • What have the research group participants experienced along the route of upper social mobility? How have they experienced the diversity of the social contexts in which they have found themselves and how have they attached significance to this diversity? • What is the meaning of this diversity of social contexts for the way in which they have constructed their own identities and how has this diversity of contexts expressed itself in both personal and professional development? • How do they perceive their role as agents of their own lives and career courses in relationship to the meaning of social and cultural antecedents?

1.4 THE FIELD: EDUCATION, INEQUALITY AND SOCIAL MOBILITY In regard to continuing education and upward mobility, my exploration of the problem briefly described above has been carried out from the perspective of attaching meaning as well as personal experience. In this way, I reveal the interior of an upward social mobility process, an approach in scientifi c literature that is quite unique thus far. This predominantly sociological problem is approached from a political standpoint, with the focus on societal interests: the creation of new workforce potential, the liberation of individuals from disadvantaged groups, and the achievement of more social and economic equality. In this context,

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

7

educational policy has a key position. While my study does not explicitly concentrate on the societal effects of educational policy, it is interrelated with the topic, viewed from the inside out. And so, to clarify, a brief look at the debate regarding the educational aspect precedes the following section.

Education and Inequality Since the 1960s, the Dutch government, as throughout Europe, has explicitly and systematically undertaken to tackle the complicated issue of what is known as transfer within the educational system, for children from lower social classes to higher levels of education and higher echelons of the workforce. Prior to this time, the only policy for children from disadvantaged families was individual support for highly gifted children through a system of study loans and scholarships. If this system and other forms of private support had not existed, it is unlikely that the individuals from this target group would ever have received a higher education. Research and policy advice was principally directed towards creating educational opportunities for working-class children to enable them to transfer within the system to prepare for university education. This was facilitated through fi nancial support and implementation of cultural facilities—for example, subsidized meals and study materials, and grants (Coetsier, Bonte, Wieërs, 1963; Wieërs, 1958). When government tackles social inequality and emancipation via education, the ideal of meritocracy is essential.1 In order to function in a social context one must be equipped with some form of education (Matthijssen, 1979). And the creation of more efficient grade school and high school systems is an important means to this end. This can be facilitated through, successively, compensation programs and incentive and quota policy. This includes additional means for pedagogical and didactic programs as well as extra personnel. The underlying philosophy is that a strong incentive is a precondition for collective upward social mobility and reducing social injustice (Kemenade, 1973; Matthijssen, 1979, 1982; Vervoort, 1975). Thus, the focus is shifted from the bright child from the working class to education’s collective function of social emancipation. In the fi rst half of the eighties, a fierce ideological debate was sparked by the following question: Can the notion that education policy leads to emancipation even be seriously considered? The battle lines were drawn between the adherents of the reduction theory and those of the reproduction theory. Inspired by Bourdieu and Passeron (1970) and Bowles and Gintis (1976), the discussion about the significance of reducing inequality through education was set off (Soutendijk, 1981). According to the reproduction theory, social relationships in education and family correspond with societal asymmetrical power structures; and as long as

8

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

this remains unchanged, education will continue to reproduce existing societal inequality. In addition, Young claimed that new forms of social exclusion accompany meritocracy (Young, 1971). Consistent with their basic principle, the focus of the reduction theory’s followers shifted from the sociology of education to a theory of education, in order to develop educational programs to motivate children from lowerclass families to adopt behavior conductive to effective learning (Matthijssen, 1986a, 1991). The strategic focus of the reduction theory proponents thus moved to the organization of education, aimed at optimal educational and career opportunities for all—with disregard to social origin (Matthijssen, 1982). By way of this more generic approach of the emancipation question and the growing accent on didactic models, the highly motivated and talented target group on which my research is centered, despite the deprivation of its original environment, is in fact excluded from the emancipation route. Incentive to learn is anything but a central issue for these individuals. Above all, these programs translated the culture gap between the social classes as a motivational issue (Matthijssen, 1986b). At the same time, there was a similar development regarding fi nancial assistance for university students. Up until the middle of the sixties the thinking was that students with less fi nancial means “with exceptional abilities” (Looper, 1997; Wieërs, 1958) should be able to apply for some means of fi nancial assistance (advances with zero interest, study loans and grants). Consequently, in 1951 a Dutch government stipend program was implemented for “needy youth with outstanding study aptitude, who met reasonable standards of general knowledge and civility” (De Looper, 1997). The thinking was that the government would contribute to the costs of students’ maintenance when parents were unable. Starting in the sixties and through the seventies this principle was abandoned and the emphasis was placed on the expansion of a system where every student received a basic grant or loan, independent of parents’ income. After twenty-five years, research shows that despite the new system, in practice, parents’ income continues to be of major importance, accessibility to higher education has not improved, and there has been no easing of fi nancial risks for students from low-income families (De Jong, 1996). Consequently, in regard to educational incentive policy as well as student fi nancial assistance, the idea of distributive justice was replaced by that of procedural justice. 2 The philosophy is changed from “all those suited for college should go” to “everyone has the opportunity to go to college.” Whether everyone who has the opportunity does indeed go, and whether the intended fairness is realized, is a different question (Wilbrink, 1999). In this sense—from the perspective of our target group— procedural justice does not imply an increase of opportunities. Moreover, Dronkers demonstrates that, to the contrary, removal of social inequality

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

9

as the aim of education policy has the opposite effect, due to the systematic denial of several important factors. Placing the emphasis on the entry level instead of the desired end level is an example (Dronkers, 2007). In addition, a recent study by the Dutch Central Bureau of Statistics, ) clearly demonstrates that social economic and educational levels of parents remain a determining factor for their children’s acquired qualifications (Kösters & Otten, 2007).

Intergenerational Upward Social Mobility There was, though, another side to expansion and democratic reform, namely the social and economic need for social mobility to serve the job market. The economic reconstruction after World War II and the birth of the welfare state in the Netherlands demanded a constant supply of professionals for, among other things, the rapid growth of new welfare institutions. From this standpoint, my target group can be seen as part of this “supply.” It was therefore in the government’s interest to gain insight into the social conditions and the consequences of this new flow of specialized and well-educated workers. The key question for a sociologist, in this context, was if and when the social or, as the case may be, professional status of parents would no longer have predictive value as to their children’s choice of profession. It was against this background that Ganzeboom and Ultee predicted that in the course of time, the “intergenerational” transfer of social inequality, based on the father’s occupation, would gradually disappear (Ganzeboom & Ultee, 1996). In other words, the father’s (and/or mother’s) profession would eventually cease to determine the social position of the child. Steijn criticized this model of perfect mobility as “naive evolutionism” that utilizes a one-dimensional professional development ladder (see Berting, 1995) and neglects to consider trend breaks, institutional changes and “cultural input” (Steijn, 1997).3 Although the “cultural input” in the study referred to by Steijn (Witte, 1994), is not explicitly defi ned (that is, political preferences, cultural conservatism versus economic liberalism), this still concerns an important fi nding, namely that the significance given to a social position (including the prestige and status that go along with it) introduces meaningful variations in the social positioning. Upward social mobility and emancipation are the “objective” expressions of an individual process of sense making for attaching meaning (to something or somebody). And even though this process of sense making has everything to do with this objective process, it is not a reflection of this process. Therefore, the question as to the existence of “genuine” upward social mobility or social emancipation, in the case of my study group, is of lesser significance. The question at hand is rather what objective moving up the social ladder does to the individual.

10

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

On the one hand, from the perspective of social prestige and status, social emancipation is in fact achieved: certain individuals have succeeded in “rising above the working class milieu.” On the other hand is the question of what this so-called rising above has subjectively delivered and whether, in this regard, the term emancipation in fits. This last question brings us to the core of our study while at the same time indicating where conclusions can be drawn. Structural options for upward social mobility are not the area where conclusions will be offered. These will instead be based on the experiences of individuals who have transcended lower social milieus as well as diverse social barriers in order to enter a higher social class. We thus examine upward social mobility from the inside out.

The Individualized Life Course By concentrating on the internal aspects of intergenerational upward mobility, identity becomes a central aspect of our approach. We view identity as a social construction in which both the social and cultural context as well as the individual operate. A biography, as an account of this identity construction, is of fundamental importance. In the third chapter, we develop a conceptual framework, in which contextual and individual factors are connected. The concept of individualization as developed by Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (2002) is an important source of inspiration in the approach of social mobility. The significance of individualization for identity construction as a societal process is expressed in the notion of “choice biography” (Du Bois-Reymond 1995; see also Woodman, 2009). This notion is in contrast with the notion of “standard biography,” which characterizes identity construction and life course as the organization of life course within a relatively pressing network of social expectations. Biography and life course are thus viewed as a reflection of a societal process, not as a construction where the subject can fulfill an active role. In contrast, the choice biography assumes that the latitude provided by the modern environment is so great that the modern individual is constantly confronted with a series of stimuli, challenges and models for living to which the individual is forced to relate to. This open and multiform environment necessitates a developmental process that implies constant decision making. Hurrelmann et al. (2002) refer to this process as a “fundamental ego tactical attitude,” where one must learn to seize the chances that continuously present themselves. But at the same time, the individual must have patience, be able to endeavor and let go. It has to do with the construction of an individual project based on the opportunities and challenges that are presented in the surrounding environment. In addition, there is always a crisis in question. The traditional exacting social guidelines for the constructions of identity have been

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

11

“destructured and individualized” (Hurrelmann et al., 2002: 34). When all is said and done, an individualized path is developed: a plan is made and a distinctive style is discovered in matters of social relationships. Lifestyle is dominated by choice making and presenting oneself as an individual with a personal lifestyle. The difficulty with the debate about choice biography versus standard biography is that one model cannot be entirely replaced with the other. Erikson (1968) in fact argues that for all, individual development is confronted with fundamental problems that present themselves in phases, in the course of individual development, and that in order to reach fulfi llment these must be solved—no matter what the social and cultural setting might be. Although followers of the choice biography theory refer to the necessity for individual choices, the individual cannot avoid the universal and inherent dynamics of development; these presuppose interaction with the social environment. However diverse and layered these may be, the social setting creates limits to options and choices, especially in the case of social disadvantage. Therefore, an individualized path does not necessarily denote freedom of choice; instead, the skills exist for personal growth, as well as for fi nding a route within the possibilities that present themselves inside the fi eld of vision. This presupposes developmental competence or, as Coté calls it, identity capital (Coté & Levine, 2002).

Culture and Individual Choice My emphasis on the signifi cance of individual competence is also based on Paul Willis’s research on the importance of subculture for boys from a working-class background (the lads), regarding their rebellion against school (Willis, 1977). Willis observes the working of “active self-determination” in the controversial manner in which this subculture is formed: the lads perceive rebellion to school discipline as an adequate preparation for their future, as manual laborer and lifestyle to come. They refuse to cooperate with their training and occupational guidance system, thus exposing the meritocratic ideal as illusionary. This unmasking, however, remains limited because it fails to overcome the level of the subculture and therefore takes on the character of a creative “self-damnation” to an inevitable future, namely in the form of manual labor—just like their fathers. Reproduction of an inferior social position, according to Willis, can assume the form of choice (see also Giddens, 1984). Willis, nonetheless, points to an alternative route, namely the positive choice for the “meritocratic illusion” or for the standard route, which promises a better position in the job market and a better future. By making an effort in school, the ear-ôles hope to escape the limitations of the class culture.4 Willis appears to have less sympathy for this individual path of adaptation. In

12

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

any case, he does not further theoretically elaborate. 5 Still, it seems to me that despite its image, adaptation is a more successful emancipation strategy, simply because it provides motivation for breaking away from the self-damning strategy of the subculture. The ear-ôle strategy leaves the demands of the culture behind, however, not through a process of molding into a new liberating subculture, but instead through integration in a “higher” culture. Contrary to what Willis seems to conclude, in my view, these students are likewise confronted with the reproductive mechanism of the class of origin; they too see though the mystification of the meritocracy, but approach it differently. We see the aspect of self-damnation again in the concept of social inheritance. This concept was developed by Elias (Elias & Scotson, 1965) in order to clarify the persistence of an aggressive reaction and pattern of behavior towards newcomers in a more traditional working-class community. This pattern is linked to the social and cultural context of the community; it is reinforced and passed on by way of childrearing. Parents have an unconscious tendency to perpetuate themselves in the following generation through the creation of certain personality structures, which reproduce as well reflect their social context. Among the traditional marginalized working class, these personality structures are concentrated around the loss and regaining of self-respect through means of customary culture forms. Elias employs this concept to clarify aggression and hostility. But they can also be seen as extreme forms of class patterns that, in a modified and more moderate manner, are directed towards keeping their children “aboard” (Bolt, 2000). Both Willis and Elias describe relatively extreme situations, which are moreover situated in a strictly stratified class structure. Nonetheless, in my assessment a dilemma is presented that can manifest itself in countless forms. Still, there need to be ways to relate the notion of identity capital and choice biography as a developmental model to these forms. Youth who transcend their social stratum must, one way or another, put the conservative grip of the class (sub)culture behind them and understand that they are on their own as long as they have not joined new groups. If this individual course should turn out to be unsuccessful, there is always the option of returning home, where everyone knows you, your needs are tended to, and you are automatically somebody. This “social lure” not only exerts a definite strain on identity construction but can also develop into a societal problem.

1.5

SOCIETAL AND THEORETICAL RELEVANCE

Societal Relevance This study’s actual value may lie in the application of the insights gained into the processes involved with upward social mobility of immigrants,

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

13

for example. Their social position is—regardless of the ethnic aspects— comparable to the situation of the working class in the early 1970s (Vermeiren & Idrissi, 2005). There are two paths distinguished for this group, in regard to societal integration: the path for “losers”—that is, those who give in to vandalism and criminality—and the one taken by successful individuals (usually young women). It seems that integration into society via education and the job market for the children from these communities includes dilemmas similar to the ones worked out by Willis, with all their consequences: participation in subcultural patterns or undergoing loss, loneliness and racism, as part of a tedious individual route. Seen in light of Willis’s qualification of youth culture as self-damnation, this notion can provide an important explanation for an obstinate pursuit of criminality, or—in the case of girls—a fi nal subjection to a traditional marriage. Individual emancipation routes are not only obstructed and threatened by society’s “concrete ceiling” but also by the forms of self-damnation within youth culture, where there is always a willingness to offer refuge or reintegration in the local community. This recalls situations comparable to those thirty years ago in working-class communities, when boys and girls would decide to leave home and familiar settings to go it alone. In the higher classes better education is a given and severing ties with home and community seldom occurs. Above all, all necessary support is provided all along. I am certain that approaching disadvantaged immigrant boys and girls from the perspective of the dilemma of “staying home and belonging” versus “going your own way in a strange and hostile environment” can be revealing. An additional societal benefit from the results of this research, in my view, is the significance for the revival of the debate in the Netherlands about its system for fi nancing higher education. A major and contentious issue is current being debated, and this debate involves the accessibility of higher education, the principles behind its regulation, and the most effective guarantees to facilitate entrance to these institutions for lower income groups. In the midst of this debate, Dronkers has published a retrospective study of social democratic educational policy over the past fi fty years. Here he critically investigates politics, by way of education, in order to tackle social inequality. He underplays the possibilities of this policy, because from his standpoint it is primarily aimed at collective contexts while the greatest individual differences remain outside this very “influence sphere” (Dronkers, 2007). From the perspective of individual differences, the debate about fi nancial support for children from lower social classes demonstrates that the success of measures to improve accessibility to higher education for individual children from lower social classes have been questionable. Educational chances have certainly grown and education has resulted

14

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

in emancipatory effects. Still, it appears as though my study group has benefited more from policy based on distributive justice and individual incentive. The exploration of individual paths can therefore provide relevant information in order to stimulate children from the lower classes to pursue higher education.

Scientific Relevance Until now, there has only been sporadic research into the careers of the academically educated with working-class origins (Barney Dews & Leste Law, 1995; Brands, 1992; Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976; Lubrano, 2004; Ryan & Sackrey, 1996; Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993). The majority of this research has presented a great deal of biographical material without extensive elaboration into a theoretical framework. If and when applicable, I will underpin in the following chapter that these studies are primarily set in a conceptual framework of sociological or theoretical literature. Furthermore, I will demonstrate that these are inclined to be inspired by the reproductive thesis (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977; Bowles & Gintis, 1976). This thesis is based on the concept that class-specific family culture, childrearing practices, and educational preferences reflect current social relations and that these relations are reproduced through the production of specific forms of subjectivity. Bourdieu’s notions of social and cultural capital are key concepts to clarify the lack of chances for our target group to move up. These biographical studies thus approach the course of social mobility from the following standpoint: the transition to another social class means an objective and subjective severance as a consequence of the differences between social classes. Upward social mobility as a social economic process requires acceptation and integration of the values of the hieratically higher-positioned class. The biographical narratives are directed towards the actual experience and significance of these differences and the mechanisms employed to be able to cope with them (see Chapter 2). In contrast, my approach reverses this perspective and is based on the individualization of social inequality (Beck & Beck-Gernsheim, 2002). It is from this vantage point that I discuss the classic sociological depiction of classes, as relatively separate and hierarchically organized social groups, with distinct frameworks of experience (see also Kingston, 2000). My interest is shifted to the individual path. In the fi rst place this shift is connected with epistemological considerations. The reproduction thesis tends to portray the individual as a refl ection of the social context in which he or she moves and is, therefore, just a carrier of meanings. From this viewpoint, continuing education, as a form for upward social mobility, is only meaningful up to the point that it is facilitated by social conditions and the changes that occur within.

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

15

On the other hand, I provide an approach of the person as agent, who in an interactive manner is in the process of constructing an individual social position. This is attained through means of identifi cation, as well as a series of meanings originating from the parental environment, educational career, lifestyle (in the sense of cultural orientation and political preference), profession and professionalism, while at the same time endeavoring to fulfi ll personal desires. The product of this construction is identity; this thus makes identity more than just a refl ection of social relationships, it is instead a layered, dynamic and constantly changing relationship between individuals and their own context. It is here that the second, and most important, reason for the shift is concealed, namely that by accenting agency, the concept of identity is given a key role in a biographical course that is regarded as an upward process. In my view, an ascribed social position is not a consequence of an intended trajectory (Kaufman, 2003) or as a result of social antecedents and mechanisms (Matthijssen, 1979). To the contrary, I interpret the routes taken by my respondents as an ongoing development of a dynamic process of acquiring and constructing meaning. The question of whether it is reduction or reproduction of social relations that applies here is not even at issue. The accent instead lies on individual active formation of the social context and the social position within. And as mentioned earlier, social inequality as a consequence of origin is one of the central meanings and, in part, lies behind the formation of individual paths.

1.6

RESEARCH METHODS

Data Collection As previously stated, the core of the theory lies in the construction of identity by a subject actively operating while simultaneously attaching meaning. In Chapter 2, I describe my study group’s experiences with upward social mobility by way of literature and investigating the existence of commonalities. In Chapter 3, I connect the notions of identity and identity construction, of context and agency, to create a coherent conceptual framework. In order to subsequently provide the broadest outline and facilitate the utmost grasp of the significance of social antecedents and individual input for identity construction, qualitative research is the appropriate method. Once more, I do not intend to determine sociological models, which regulate the integration into higher social milieus but instead to grasp the internal workings of a subjective construction and developmental process. The accent is thus on experience, sense making and growth.

16

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

It is therefore not my aim to reconstruct actual occurrences and determine the deeper meaning of this reality (for example social discrepancies). Instead, I aim to discover patterns and regularities in the acquisition of meanings. My approach is designed to reconstruct these meanings, as they were, in the course of my participants’ lives and careers; the results may thus be of a retrospective biographical character. I describe the development of this qualitative approach, and, following this section, treat a number of related methodical questions.

In-Depth Interviews I initially chose this “reconstructive biographical” approach for in-depth interviewing, as it offers respondents every possibility to extensively share their personal stories. Above all, it provides the interviewee the leeway to accentuate aspects of personal signifi cance. Nevertheless, I formulated themes based on the consulted literature that was vital to the interviews. Thus, in a certain sense, the interviews were structured beforehand, but, due to the fact that the themes lay, in a sense, behind the interviews and were optional topics of discussion, the emphasis stayed on the dynamics of the biographical account and the meanings that were constructed within the story itself. To this end, I opened all the interviews with the request that interviewees tell their stories from the perspective of their family backgrounds. The interviews were held either at the respondents’ homes or workplace, my office or conference room at my university department. I conducted all interviews. They were recorded and registered digitally and then literally transcribed. My central focus was on what was relayed and the significance attached to this. When it seemed relevant, I took notes regarding the tone of the conversation and respondents’ non-verbal signals, insomuch these confi rmed what was said or put things into perspective.

Selecting the Study Group I made the decision to limit my study group to university graduates of which the father had had a job as a salaried skilled laborer at the moment that his child’s future in further education was decided within the family. These criteria were to ensure the greatest uniformity regarding the material position of origin, from a social and cultural perspective. This was moreover with consideration of the fact that despite the overall similarities in material conditions and childrearing norms, a great diversity can be demonstrated in lower social settings. These differences are especially marked when it comes to the significance of self-employment and consciousness of upward social mobility. Though self-employed individuals also work as laborers and live in poverty, working for oneself and ownership can have a specific importance for childrearing practices.

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

17

Despite this, due to miscommunication, two respondents from another category of a lower social milieu “slipped in.” Several of their responses have also been utilized for the analysis, not only for the sake of the evident parallels between the social and material situation with the other respondents, but more especially because they provided illustrations of a typical dissimilarity that is in relationship to entrepreneurship and leadership interest. In order to best shed light on the retrospective character of the biographical approach and to obtain as complete as possible oversight of the experience and meaning of career and identity construction, I selected respondents in the last phase of their careers, specifically between the ages of fifty and sixty-five. Also essential was that they were still working at the time of the interview. A small number of respondents were just under the age limit at the moment of the interview but owing to the great similarities with the other respondents regarding experience of background and milieu, they were nevertheless included. Other respondents, who were close to retirement, were still planning for active futures in various ways. I considered this data to be of great value to the study. The Initial Selection I initially tried to compose my study group via snowball sampling. The drawback of this method is that due to their limited numbers and since their jobs were primarily in the social professions, appropriate respondents were difficult to come by. I was aiming to include a broader range of professionals. Therefore, in 2007, in cooperation with the Utrecht University Fund, I sent an e-mail with an appeal for participants for my research project. The message included the explicit criteria for involvement in the study. One hundred eighty-six alumni responded at the start; their names were then recorded and subsequently all received a registration form with a second communiqué requesting they provide the following information: • • • • • •

contact information father’s and mother’s profession and education field of study and study history rough sketch of career current situation motivation for participation

This e-mail also referred to a page on the website of the USG (Utrecht School of Governance at the Utrecht University), where I clarified the aims of the project and expectations regarding the interviews. In response, 115 alumni returned a questionnaire. Responses to the questions were registered and recorded in a table. When information was

18 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Table 1.1

List of Potential Respondents, Utrecht University

Sex

Amount

Percentage

women

34

29.6

men

81

70.4

total

115

100

Field of Study

Amount

Percentage

arts and letters

24

20.9

exact sciences

31

27.0

social sciences

32

27.8

medicine

14

12.2

law

12

10.4

other

2

total

115

1.7 100

incomplete or unclear I contacted the person in question via e-mail to ask for the missing information. I added another ten names to the list—fi rstly, two people who had sent sufficient information in response to the fi rst e-mail and then eight people who I knew personally and had asked to join at an earlier point in time. All of these individuals met the established criteria. Thus a list of 125 respondents was formed. Seven of these were later removed from the list because they did not meet the criteria, in retrospect. In all cases, this was related to the father’s trade (self-employed or an administrator) or uncertain social classification of the nuclear family of origin. The Second Selection I subsequently described a number of “objective” criteria for typifying the character of careers. This was based on the measure of success of the career in question. This allowed me to classify the described careers into more global categories of attained social positions, without having to formulate evaluative assessments over the appraisal or personal perception of these positions: • Successful: The highest possible position has been reached, with consideration to education and context. Examples are top managers (Shell), members of parliament, university lecturers and surgeons. • Standard career : The career is in line with an individual’s education and takes place in the areas of middle, project and small business

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

19

management. There is a continued emphasis on and relationship to actual execution of duties (instructors, researchers, advisors, doctors and clergy). • Underachievers: A university education is not a precondition for the occupation, such as executive secretary or office manager. All potential respondents were then classified and coded according to above criteria; gender and field of study were added. With the aid of SPSS software, the remaining respondents were then classified. This resulted in the data presented in Table 1.2.

Table 1.2

Classification of Potential Respondents Regarding Gender, Field of Study and Career Success Successful Standard

Underachiever

Total men

Total women

Total per field

arts and letters men

3

12

1

women

0

4

5

16 9 25

exact sciences men

12

16

2

women

0

0

1

30 1 31

social sciences men

5

17

women

4

7

22 4

15 37

medicine men

2

6

0

women

1

5

0

8 6 14

law men

1

5

women

0

4

6 1

5 11

total

82

36

118

20 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Any remarks to be made about the numbers in the cells of Table 1.2 are negligible; analyzing these numbers was not an objective. Even though representativeness was not an objective either, I was still able to select my fi nal respondents using the utmost objective distribution criteria. An underrepresentation of female respondents, in the exact science category and in particular the categories standard and successful was apparent, however. Furthermore, the fact that not a single lawyer showed interest, even following an additional search, was also evident. The Third Selection This method of selection resulted in Table 3, a table with thirty-two cells, where all respondents were included. The following step was to select one person per cell to be interviewed. In the case where there was only one person to select from, the choice was obvious. When there was more than one woman, I used the following criteria: 1. An equal amount of men and women: this division was unfeasible, however, because there were no women in a number of cells. The fi nal division was 5/8 men and 3/8 women. 2. Pragmatic grounds: there were potential respondents who lived abroad and thus were disqualified. 3. Certain secondary considerations regarding variation as well as balance, for the sake of the random sampling: a. In order to represent all positions, in the category of successful careers, of those with an educational background in arts and letters, exact sciences, and social sciences, I distinguished between academia, public sector, and business. b. There is a relatively large range of careers in the standard career category; I made an effort to document these, divided among the men and women. c. It was furthermore notable that the majority of social scientists and all of the law school graduates had achieved their degrees through adult education programs. To create more balance in the selection, I also distinguished (as is the case within the higher educational system in the Netherlands) the educational path taken and labeled these two options direct or indirect (for example, professional higher education preceding university education); the path of adult education was also included. This too was aimed to create balance. d. The category unsuccessful careers was filled primarily with women educated in the areas of arts and letters and social sciences. Here I employed two criteria: structural unemployment or not having had exploited the potential of a university degree. Only one of those who responded met the first criterion, and was selected. Three met the second criterion, one of whose degree served a personal rather than a professional objective. She was selected, along with one of the other two.

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning Table 1.3

Final Selection of Respondents UnderSuccess Standard achiever

Field of Study

Sex

arts and letters

men

2

2

women

0

exact sciences

men women

social sciences men women medicine law other

Total

Men

1

5

5

1

1

2

2

3

1

6

0

0

0

0

1

3

0

4

1

2

1

4

men

1

1

0

2

women

1

1

0

2

men

1

1

0

2

women

1

2

0

3

men women

1

Women

2 6 0 4 4 2 2 2 3 1

1 11

1.7

21

1 17

4

32

20

12

METHODOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS

I used biographical data, which in the fi rst place were derived from the meaning attached to the information by the respondents themselves. Because I interpreted and analyzed these meanings, it was essential from a methodical perspective to distinguish between my interpretation and the meanings of respondents, and to clarify my interpretations. Afterward, I treated the specific character of attaching meaning to biographical data and the derived methodical implications.

Sense Making In regard to determining why an individual acts in any given manner and why that individual makes specific decisions and choices, a life course is a continuous process of sense making (Weick, 1995). What is more, it is irrelevant if these acts are autonomous, the choices are consciously made or not, or the decisions made can be called rational. What is, however, key is the meaning respondents attach to these actions and why they took place. These meanings are indications of systems of meanings, which function as rationalizations for that which has been undergone in the course of life. Weick makes a reference to Louis (1980), who describes sense making as the thinking process, which utilizes a retrospective narrative. This serves to clarify the unforeseen and comprehend (strange and/or unexpected)

22

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

experiences, by means of organizing them in frameworks and attributing them with a purpose, so that they can be shared with others and their underlying pattern can be recognized (Weick, 1995). Weick (referring to Mallioux, 1990) makes a distinction between the sense making process and that of interpretation. Interpretation is accordingly a process of “approximating translation,” utilized to reach a specific version of events and the meanings that have been attached through acceptable means.6 By emphasizing the creation of meaning, I unquestionably attempt to understand respondents on their own terms, intentions and meanings (Fay, 1966); this, however, is not my interpretative framework. At the same time, there should be awareness of the considerable likelihood that these respondents make use of scientific discourse, not only to understand, but to clarify their own situations. After all, these are highly educated individuals. With this in mind, I inquire specifically about these clarifications, not in regard to their face value; this is instead aimed at discovering implications in relationship to the respondents’ systems of meaning. My emphasis thus, lies on relevant experience, decision making and occurrences, and the constructed relationships that lie between these, despite the nature of the clarifications.

Biographical Narratives Retrospective I initiate my search for the facts and actual life occurrences through the use of biographical narrative. Still, it is not the objective to discover an underlying “truth.” The aim is to connect and compare personal experience and the resultant ascribed meanings from the various respondents. I do this from a retrospective point of view. In other words, all respondents are in equivalent phases of life and are interviewed about the process that has led to the present. I am actively involved as researcher together with my research subjects in this retrospective endeavor, and in a certain sense I am a participant. This makes me an accessory of sorts; I am not merely recorder but an interpreter. By means of the questions themselves, for example, I share responsibility for what has been selected, chosen or omitted. Because, above all, I belong to the target group of the research, I am “committed to” the problem in question (Mumby & May, 2005). The methodological problem, however, does not lie exclusively with the researcher but with the research participant as well; relaying a life story is not merely a retrospective but an acutely existent form of construction of meaning. It is the creation of a past as a comment, on the here and now (Tierney, 2000; see also Giddens, 2005). Life as Narrative Jerome Bruner poses that from a constructivist point of view, biographical stories have not “taken place” in actuality, but are instead a product of cognitive activity (Bruner, 2004: 691).

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

23

We are only capable of relaying our life, situated in time, by means of a story, according to Bruner. Even with a cut-and-dry summation of facts, the choices and the relaying of the facts themselves reflect our view of reality and not reality itself. By relating a story, the storyteller is namely acting reflexively by giving structure to his tale (for example, by justification.) or by applying personal criteria (such as striving for accurate accounting of the facts, providing insight in personal feelings, or attaching significance to background information). This form of reflexivity makes life stories highly susceptible to cultural, interpersonal and language influences and consequently for attitudes about ideal living (Bruner, 2004: 694). Culture, in the form of canonical life narratives, provides the syntax and lexicon (Bruner, 1990: 71) at the heart of the life story. Bruner’s point is that the following occurs to the story’s direction: it is captured by this cultural canon and implicit grammar, sensory experiences are structured, memory is organized and authentic “events” are given specific purposes. Eventually the storyteller becomes the biographical stories in which he tells about life and presents himself as a version of the cultural canons (Bruner 2004: 694). In other words, existing notions and how our actions are incorporated within these notions determine the way in which we tell about ourselves. Bruner, thus, makes a distinction between the content of a narrative and the form in which it is presented (forms of self-telling). A common formal structure is revealed behind the surface of the great variety of intrinsic life stories (Bruner, 2004). With the help of Propp, Bruner recognizes a trichotomy: the theme, the discourse and the genre. The theme refers to a myth of sorts—that is, a transcendent timeless reality or recurring theme—for example, the sow’s ear that will never become a silk purse. The discourse is the product and justification of the theme, adapted to time and circumstance. The reason that it requires so much effort for a child of working-class parents to rise socially at the end of the twentieth century, even under meritocratic policies, is an example. In each story the discourse is connected to the theme; therefore, through the story something special is created from the ordinary.7 Genre refers to the literary style of the story and significance of the plot within. This way a respondent can relay his or her story as if it were a detective novel, “How I realized my achievements,” or as a testimony, “I represent a social dilemma” (see Tierney, 2000). The significance of this typifying is that the theme, discourse and genre of the biographical testimonies can provide specific information, namely about the process and the form of identity construction. According to Bruner, this ultimately concerns how the narrator defi nes agency: Does he or she see himself or herself as an object of fate or as representative of a (social) position or as a protagonist in his or her own life? Moreover, there is always an open field, where the events take place within the story; there is an inner field besides, the manner in which events are undergone. In accordance with Greimas, Bruner speaks of duality of landscape. The modern narrator tends to unfold this inner landscape, namely the way in which he

24

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

or she depicts himself or herself (see also Widdershoven, 1993). But this subjective perspective does not exist on its own. In order to understand each other, the narrator and the listener must merge within a community of life histories; they must have a “deeper structure” in common regarding the nature of life, otherwise communication becomes exceptionally complex. The researcher is in search of the deeper structures, from which he anticipates the expression of a community of life histories. Bruner does not explicitly disclose the ontological and epistemological implications of these “deeper structures” or the “community of life histories.” However, considering our research target, I emphasize communality regarding experience and interpretation of the influence of the social context, treated in Chapter 2. This communality is primarily formed by means of this social context and cannot be reduced to language structures and the grammar of the construction. The Plot, the Truth and Gaps The question as to plot (what is it all about?) concerns the function of attaching meaning and does entail distinguishing fact from fiction (Czarniawska, 2004). Verification is not relevant. Therefore, I do not complement the interviews with other material, that is to say products, texts, testimonials and reports. The content and the development of the story are directly related to the extralingual reality, while the story itself represents the individual’s reality, and this is disturbed by external verification (Tierney, 2000). It is important in my view to utilize internal scrutiny in search of internal inconsistency and contradiction by the following methods: indicating contrasts between the odd and unusual versus the common and usual, and concentrating on the distinction that respondents make between fact and fiction, not because this tells us something about the accuracy of the storytelling but because this reveals information about the meanings the respondent is struggling with through the narration of his or her story. By defining identity as construction, I consider the life story to be negotiable. Mixed messages and contradictions present themselves in the narration itself as the following issues: gaps, error, selectivity, choices since forgotten and the unmentionable nature of certain events. Because there can be no certainty where these gaps, errors and taboos occur, we can only infer their existence based on inconsistencies and other indications in the story. A more or less consistent perspective of experiences is therefore not dependent on facts; instead it relies on the likelihood or unlikelihood of discovering meaningful connections within the presented story about the life in question, where facts, observations and interpretations, gaps, and feelings alternate.

Old and New Definitions Based on the academic use of biography, Tierney (2000: 541) raises an interesting question. According to Tierney the way in which we define identity

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

25

today cannot be applied to understand concepts of identity from the past. Vandekerckhove and Huyse (1976) present examples from an adaptation and survival discourse regarding university graduates in the early 1970s, represented by the following: “if I just find a job to secure my future and that is not too removed from my family.” The ideas and expectations anticipated by current new graduates, in regard to career and choices pertaining to life course, offer a sharp contrast. Here self-realization is central, which in turn calls for research, experimentation and initiative. Taken at face value, these are marked contrasts but the question of whether the underlining story is in fact so dissimilar remains unanswered. From the perspective of identity conception, where deeper layers, contradictions and ambivalence are time-bound and can be thematized, the dilemma posed by Tierney is not as great as he suggests. Allowing for the unavoidable exceptions, the members of my research group, in their own way, took part in the discourse over the individual, who acts autonomously. This is also demonstrated by the fact that they have created the means for better financial and material options. In view of their concrete social position they are held, first and foremost, accountable for matters of individual responsibility and only rarely to issues of solidarity regarding class of origin. They have gone through a learning process; thus, during the interviews, I assume that they have given meaning to their lives through modern autonomy discourse. I moreover assume that they thoroughly understand adaptation discourse and have had to come to terms with it. They likely understand, as no others, the contradictions linked to both forms of discourse. If, with Giddens, we acknowledge that the autobiography is a corrective intervention into the past (Giddens, 2005: 72), than I expect that during the interviews, the interviewees will actively bring up the question of this contrast and compare the two forms of discourse. Furthermore, the fact that research in the 1970s was specifically focused on the social antecedents leading to the choice of study, and less so on accompanying contradictory emotions, does not mean that the latter did not play a role. The paradigm of individualization, on the contrary, provides an opportunity to address this subjectivity.

The Researcher’s Story As put forward in the positioning of the problem, I participate in what Bruner calls the communality of life experience. I too have a story to tell and this provides opportunities from a methodological standpoint; at the same time there are pitfalls involved. I recognize myself in Deetz’s stance (2005)—Deetz states that his personal experience with “social discrepancy” has had a profound influence on his theoretical development and the accents in his research. Aside from specific personal motives to engage myself scientifically with the question of upward social mobility, I know from my own experience what is involved. I also trust that—regarding analysis and interpretation—I have more sensitivity for specific metaphor

26

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

and other language forms, as is the case with specific references to an underlying world of experience (Bruner, 2004). Furthermore, a familiarity with both objective and subjective facets of the question provide me with alertness to deception, gaps and taboos. Despite these advantages, the “normal” melting together of subject and the object of research, which is incorporated in the qualitative approach (Alvesson & Sköldberg, 2000: 57) is so powerful that this can be counterproductive. To explicitly recognize this involvement, although essential, is not enough. Methodological means are vital to adequately anticipate potential responses from interviewees and the interviewer’s emotional reaction to what is said. In order to facilitate the recruiting process, I presented myself as belonging to the target group; consequently, this could convey to respondents a liberty to inquire after my own experiences. This, in turn, creates the risk that, triggered by recognition of my responses, respondents discover a basis for their own life stories; my view of the question could provide structure to their answers. While there are advantages to reconstructing meanings by way of dialogue and discussion, my research question excludes dialogue. I kept a logbook to safeguard the benefits of empathy and, at the same time, check the risks of identification (going native). My aim here was fourfold: to preserve impressions of situations and interpretations; to register theoretical hints based on interviews; to make note of important statements; and to take autobiographical notes, based on the narratives, to apply to analysis.

Hermeneutical Analysis Analysis, Interpretations and Reflection The foundation of my qualitative analysis is joined to what Boeije, in accordance with Strauss (1987), calls theoretical sensitivity or “the ability of the researcher to apply original discoveries to research data by looking through a certain theoretical lens” (Boeije, 2005). With regard to this standpoint, my approach deviates from the method of continuous comparison, which sheds light on the conceptual framework from the empirical material. The point in question is the theory-driven interpretation supported by concepts treated in Chapters 2 and 3. This is a hermeneutical approach, which means I aim to understand the biographical narratives by relating these circularly to their broader context and their progression within (Alvesson & Sköldberg, 2000; Fay, 1996; Hart et al., 2005). Respondents’ comments are integrated into an assumed or deliberate whole and can thus only acquire meaning from that entirety; in contrast, a concrete specific comment can illuminate a different aspect on the totality (Fay, 1996: 146). This results in a “hermeneutical circle” of ongoing reinterpretation of the whole, as well as the parts, in response to new empirical material. Fay calls this approach intentional hermeneutics.

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

27

The appropriate research attitude calls for the researcher to question which intentions are being expressed during each concrete manifestation that the research participants provide. On the contrary, Fay positions Gadamerian hermeneutics, where the researcher questions the meaning for those who do the interpreting, in regard to every empirical detail (Fay, 1996: 151). The consequence of my analytical method is that the life stories are comprehensible on their own accord and from their significance for the theoretical research framework. Continuous exposure of hidden meanings is an essential aspect of hermeneutics (Alvesson & Sköldberg, 2000: 58). These can include hidden structures, economic determination concerning existential conditions, or even patterns of meaning in narratives, in the sense described above. Notwithstanding that the continuous comparison method tends towards an objectivistic variation of hermeneutics, it still offers numerous practical common aspects, namely in the instrumental results elaborated by Boeije (2005).8 What is more, I have made use of her guidelines for coding, and unraveling and integration of data, as well as other techniques such as visualizing, notes and memos. Furthermore, this method focuses attention to contradictions and parallels in the data. The research process here combines thinking and doing (Boeije, 2005); it is a nonlinear, cyclical process of an ongoing dialogue between theoretical framework and empirical data. Quality The above-described method of data collection must guarantee a maximum of reliability and controllability. In order to guarantee the internal validity, I describe and substantiate the steps taken in the research and analysis process as explicitly as is feasible. Where empathy plays a large role (for instance, when a respondent relates a story that is plainly recognizable), this is thematized in the analysis and interpretation. Boeije implies that, in such a case, for the sake of validity, the researcher has to endeavor to refrain from value judgment and remain impartial (Boeije, 2005). The question regarding external validity is to what extent insights gained from this study can be generalized for other comparable studies. In order to make comparison feasible, I initially made certain that social and cultural contexts were equivalent; where deviations occurred, I accounted for use of this information (how and why). Secondly, I worked out the respondents’ comments in a theoretical framework on identity construction, in relation to the social and cultural environment (see Chapter 3). This specific structure makes it possible to remove the described phenomena from their unique context and integrate these, on a more abstract and more complete level, into a process (Boeije, 2005). Through this theoretical structure, I am able to generate analytical and generalized comments on how the role of social origin creates meaning to development of identity, in the context of upward social mobility.

28 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Transcribing and Coding The transcribed interviews are reviewed by respondents for any additions and correction and then entered into a software program (MAXqda 2) for coding and analyzing. This was done axially or “in vivo,” meaning that I distilled the codes and sub-codes from the data itself (Boeije, 2005). My objective with axial coding was to reveal the empirical, in order to discover the categories founded on the data. Therefore, for labeling the codes, I did not look to my theoretical chapters for inspiration. Following the fi rst interviews, I produced a text with sensitizing concepts, where insights from the literature were included, since concerning certain topics (namely the question of loyalty) an atypical representation came from the interviews. Consequentially, this axial coding was a “tree with many branches” of codes and sub-codes to which most data were linked as quotations. I then proceeded several times to critically review all the quotations that I had put in the coding system during the process, and I rearranged and relabeled them to finally construct a rough final coding structure. To facilitate this process, I paused to focus on each quotation to be certain it had been classified under the most appropriate code and to make certain that the created code covered the connotation. This was a process of painstaking shuffling and reorganizing of fragments, where an urge to find an even better label and perfect the process was a constant factor. Each new label required restructuring: a conundrum and headache, as pointed out by Boeije (2005: 106).9 The result was seventy-eight sub-codes arranged around five main codes.

Structure The next step in the analysis was to integrate and discern interrelationships based on recurring themes (Boeije, 2005). My objective was to differentiate between themes, discourse and genres and to discover their most essential messages in relation to the research question. It is self-evident that biographical data do not primarily allow for thematizing via chronological clusters of meaning. This data is presented in Chapters 4, 5 and 6. These chapters focus chiefly on making the words expressed by respondents more explicit in the following areas: • Foundation laid in family history, namely culture and childrearing, where mechanisms were triggered that both stimulated and discouraged further study. Communication patterns are also of importance regarding childrearing practices and the ideas for the future contained in these practices. • Transition from secondary education or adult education to the university, a complicated issue. By breaking away, alienation, crisis and having undergone rejection lead to the overall sense that the individual

(When) Working-Class Children Enter Academic Learning

29

had to go it alone; still, the encouraging role of third parties was vital to achievement. • Development of career where multiple story lines are outlined with the common feature that opportunity just “turned up,” as opposed to planning, as having presented itself or appeared without notice. Success and failure are associated with circumstance, networks, communication skills and social codes. In addition, through all the chronological stories, two central clusters of meanings are outlined; all of these clusters tend to be presented as “clarifying.” Therefore, I was inclined to approach these interpretively and I analyze in Chapter 7 and 8: • References to social and cultural differences with the “others.” The emphasis here is on the members of both higher classes and acquaintances from the original milieu, the latter who currently reject them due experiencing barriers to approach and association. • Respondents’ intrigue by the question as to how they ever made it through it all and wondering what they have done to make it possible. By bundling their experiences in a biography, respondents have constructed identity. The ensuing questions are aimed at discovering what it has cost, what it has yielded and who they have become.

2

2.1

A Tough Life?

INTRODUCTION

Disloyalty, ambivalence and estrangement are the central themes present in the descriptions and conceptualization of the biographies and careers of university graduates with working-class backgrounds.1 In 1927, Sorokin described the entrance of children from working-class families into higher classes as a blessing for society while, at the same time, a burden for those concerned. After all, these individuals had found themselves in situations where psychosocial isolation and loneliness was felt (Sorokin, 1927, cited by Ellis & Clayton Lane, 1967). This burden has various facets, but central are the void felt by an absence of the right contacts and appropriate behaviour as well as the lack of a standard professional attitude. Moreover, these individuals are burdened by feelings of guilt and disloyalty to parents and the community in which they grew up. In addition, just meeting expectations related to the new milieu is a struggle—let alone the problems involved in integration into higher strata of society. Study participants’ descriptions might even relay, contrary to common wisdom, a sense of loss instead of accomplishment associated with “moving up.” Thus, the overall picture is pervaded by mixed feelings. The sharpest characterization is from Lubrano (2004), who speaks of a “straddler” or a life in “limbo,” where feelings of conflicted emotions and displacement are a central, multifaceted theme; this is demonstrated on multiple levels of work and living. The notion of the straddler is a plain metaphor for the paradoxes encountered by these working-class children. Contradiction, as one of the concealed injuries of class, is extensively described on numerous levels (Sennett & Cobb, 1972). As Sennett and Cobb have stated, the psychological price is high and the position of the individual who has reached a higher station remains in a marginal function for an extended period, if not permanently. These individuals are troubled by split identity and loyalty confl icts, while in the new situation social relationships seem the same as always. The objective of this literature study is to construct a scenario, as it were, of the personal perception of the social transition. The compiled essays of

A Tough Life?

31

Barney Dews and Leste Law (1995), Ryan and Sackrey (1996), Tokarczyk and Fay (1993) and Zandy (1990, 1994) are an important preliminary step. These publications contain biographical essays from educators and professors that have been edited and more or less thematically arranged, with the underlying intention to allow the narratives to speak for themselves. Still, the majority of the essays are clearly inspired by Bowles and Gintis (1976), where the collected life stories are viewed as an illustration of the reproduction theory and as a criticism of the American Dream; this is a myth of promised chances without making good on the promise. I have furthermore based my work on Dutch and Flemish sociological approaches, represented by Brands (1992), Kochuyt and Verhoeven (1995a, 1995b), Krijnen (1985), Schaardenburg (1988) and Vandekerkhove and Huyse (1976). These authors too position themselves in the debate about social mobility opportunities, with a greater emphasis on systematic empirical evidence. Also sociologically inspired, but with a broader empirical foundation, is the journalistic research of Lubrano (2004), where the limitations versus the opportunities of upward social mobility are subtly portrayed. The British educational and pedagogical sociological approach (Archer, 2006a; Archer, Pratt & Phillips, 2001; Reay, 1998, 2002; Reay et al., 2001; Reay et al., 2002; Tett, 2000), in the fi rst place, stresses access to university instead of the ensuing career; this approach offers a broader perspective in order to evaluate the relationships between diverse past factors (for example, gender and class). Although the narrative tradition includes explicit focus on the relationship between gender and class determination, the exploration tends more towards an illustrative approach than a theoretical one. In addition the question is approached psychologically. Within this context research has been conducted towards individual factors, with consideration of social circumstances, which could guarantee the survival chances in the higher classes (Eckland, 1964; Ellis & Clayton Lane, 1967; Kohlberg et al., 1984; Snarey & Vaillant, 1985; Unger, 1998, 2000). A comparable perspective, though from another scientific tradition, is represented by Childers (2002), whose approach for the chances for success following “discontinuous upward social mobility” is rooted in trauma studies. The outcome of this literature review is a series of themes organized according to phases in the life course. Regarding this question, a tradition of debate in the social science field is virtually nonexistent; therefore there are but few theoretical or research methodological conventions on which to base the structure of the literature transparently. The biographical phasing is therefore a valuable tool for comparing and connecting insights obtained from diverse disciplines. An exceptional facet of the biographical narratives from the American collection is that besides emotion, rationale, and strategic and educational comment, the narratives also contain certain sociological notions regarding the significance of origin. There are even authors who present detailed social scientific accounts in order to clarify

32

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

their position (Peckham, 1995; Sumser, 1995). I treat these primarily as a facet of subjective attachment of meaning instead of a contribution to the scientific debate. These contributors are significant because they facilitate the connection between life experience and theoretical explication models, also treated in Chapter 1; notwithstanding this, they do not provide a theoretical framework for my research objectives. And so inspired by feministic depictions, the stories prevail where gender, class and ethnicity meet (Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993). And in each essay of their essays Ryan and Sackrey (1996) shed light on a different aspect of the reproductive character of social mobility. Here the “actors” demonstrate which theoretical notion lies behind their personal process of making sense of their position in society and at the university; thus, detailed research projects, where explication models are empirically examined, are not at issue here. Therefore, in chapter 3 I build up a coherent framework on a metatheoretical level, in order to analyze and grasp the meanings that the research group attaches to life course and career. This is done from two perspectives: fi rstly, a diversity of contexts in which life course and career transpire, and secondly, the individual’s active contribution. Central to this framework is the precarious relationship between structure, social context, and subjectivity, where I elaborate on the notions of identity construction as the connecting concept between social context and subjective acting.

2.2

BIOGRAPHICAL THEMES

Summarizing and based on literature study I distill approximately ten themes that characterize the experience and perception of academics from working-class families.

Conscious or Unconscious Family Stimulants Despite families’ lack of apparent tradition for further study, the literature portrays nonetheless a stimulating family tradition and/or culture (Brands, 1992; Leslie, 1995; Black, 1995; Martin, 1995, Kochuyt and Verhoeven, 1995a, 1995b). The process of social mobility can already have been set in motion due to a preexistent aspiration level (Brands, 1992). This can have been expressed either in the father’s career or through the mother’s origin and attitudes (Schaardenburg, 1988; Brands, 1992). In some cases parents have prompted a course of upward social mobility, some by starting their own business, and others by achieving white-collar positions in the companies where they are employed (Sennett & Cobb, 1972). Other parents have the wherewithal to transcend the daily culture of living to adhere to a more abstract, broader value system (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976; Lang, 1995; Pegueros, 1995; Warren, 1995). In addition, there are indications that through

A Tough Life?

33

their conduct parents may stimulate a certain freedom and creativity of action in their children (Black, 1995). Especially marked is that with few exceptions, almost all biographical accounts portray parents as loving and good at parenting and who only wanted the best for their children; children were stimulated to surpass their parents’ achievements (Martin, 1995; Peckham, 1995; see also Kochuyt & Verhoeven, 1995b). Furthermore, childrearing practices are firmly rooted in the local culture (Lang, 1995). Children’s upbringing is aimed towards a future of hard work, where idle talk and fantasy are excluded (Brands, 1992). On the other hand, these parents have discovered a form to relate to the atypical desires of their children and even to offer encouragement, despite emotional costs (Leslie, 1995).

Dreams of a Different Life What especially strikes me in the majority of the biographies is the central role that books have filled. Despite a scarcity or even a complete lack of books in respondents’ homes, an obvious longing to read and study is revealed. It is very probable that this has had an effect on the selection of the respondents behind the biographies, namely academics in arts and letters and social science fields. As a metaphor, books symbolize various things: fascination for the written word; escape in fantasy about a different life; a search for role models; growth within, and at the same time differentiation from, the background of home and community; and a chance to measure up to friends from the other class (Brands, 1992; Hicks, 1995). On the other hand, a radical rejection of reading is expressed by pervasive notions in the original milieu expressed by statements such as “book wisdom will get you nowhere” and “Books put you off track, life experience is what it’s all about and that’s only learned in practice and practice means hard work and dirty hands” (Willis, 1977; Lubrano, 2004). At the same time, books stand for introduction in the classes where reading is considered to be of importance. The capacity to discuss literature affords a feeling of acknowledgment. In addition, literature provides the identification models missing in the milieu of origin (Brands, 1992; Garger, 1995; Moses, 1995; Pegueros, 1995). Though books represent powerful introductory mechanisms and identification models, respondents’ biographies still show that class-specific beliefs concerning work and knowledge influence choices. During the study there is a preference for hard (and especially manual) labor to cover study costs instead of dependence on loans (Christopher, 1995). The ideas of career academics are particularly emblematic: there is a clear preference for “practical work,” where emphasis is placed on educating and supporting students with similar backgrounds (Tokarczyk, 1993; Lee Linkon, 1999). Moreover, there is a partiality for concentrating on research with practical and strategic results for the milieu of origin. Within academia, these research topics score consistently lower in the hierarchy of significance and are typified by some authors as a form of exclusion (Black, 2005).

34

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

Despite the perception of exclusion, at the same time, a sense of the liberating function of theoretical knowledge is experienced. This knowledge can in turn be limited through a professional or consumptive orientation (Archer, Hollingworth & Halsall, 2007; Archer & Leathwood, 2006).

Discrepancy Especially during high school years there is a growing realization for working-class children that they are different than the rest: friends live in nicer homes, have bigger bedrooms, the family car is better and parents read and listen to music. Parents of higher-class contemporaries are able to put the working-class children in their place, without a thought: they think their speech is quaint but can’t resist correcting errors (Brands, 1992). This confrontation with discrepancies carries on into various levels of professional life and is expressed in communication style, ambition, networks and professional motivation. Communication can be a minefield: individuals are unaccustomed to “exchanging ideas.” Game rules and hidden agendas are foreign concepts (Brands, 1992; Lubrano, 2004). They have been taught at home to get to the point when formulating arguments, to state their thoughts and to express opinions with directness. Though the codes in the workplace are flawlessly understood, the realization that these are only a reflection of the surface cannot be ignored (Brands, 19992; Garger, 1995). American literature describes a relatively hard confrontation with the past; Dutch literature shows a subtler picture. Thus, the literature from the United States portrays that those within the target group feel they are forced to represent a non-reality and are viewed as a distortion of the dominant diversity discourse: while women and Afro-Americans are accepted as legitimate minorities, poor Caucasians from the working class are not. After all, there is no reason to be poor in America: if you are, you only have yourself to blame; this attitude might just be transmittable (Lubrano, 2004). The significance of high culture is an essential factor of how the concept of difference is perceived. The discovery of the value of “high culture” (such as theater, literature and classical music) is accompanied with social rejection by those students who have been brought up with these expressions of culture; for them, rejection of high culture can be a means of rebellion against parents (Brands, 1992). A striking undertone of certain biographical essays is how perceived differentiation works as negative identification. In other words, rejection goes hand in hand with reproach; the one doing the blaming can present himself or herself as a victim—while pointing out structural differences—and making the other the cause of victimhood (Childers, 2000).

Identifications A salient detail in the literature is how certain teachers are portrayed as key figures in the process of acquiring the capacities of thought and imagination

A Tough Life?

35

needed to pursue an intellectual study (Brands, 1992; Garger, 1995; Pegueros, 1995). The positive significance of certain teachers, through their function as role models, made aspects of the other milieu appealing. This stands in contrast to the negative perception, throughout the school career, of classmates from the higher classes. However, the positive influence of teachers is dependent on personal qualities; other educators are, in fact, seen as representatives of upper classes’ superficiality and arrogance. Role models are teachers with integrity, who are inspirational and fair, and have the capacity to open the door to “other worlds” through, for instance, literature and philosophy. What is of special value, though, is their ability to see who you are and what you are capable of (Brands, 1992; Moses, 1995). Still, this has its drawbacks: classmates are not inclined to endure teachers’ pets and the home front has little affi nity with “other worlds” (Brands, 1992). This does not mean that parents, as identification figures, fade into the background. They remain central to their children’s lives. Both men and women continue to admire parents’ ability to manage limited material and fi nancial means. Women maintain strong emotional ties with their mothers and are willing to put in an effort to stay close by. When this is not feasible in the literal sense, their involvement is emphasized symbolically, either through academic research into mother-daughter relationships or by using these relationships as topics of literature (Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993). In addition, there are indications that literally and/or symbolically men too remain close to home. For example, sons of mine workers become mining engineers or teachers in local high schools (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). Men continue to feel the influence of a work ethic, pride, perseverance and collegiality of their fathers; some recognize that these qualities are related to dilemmas they encounter in their own careers (Garger, 1995; Lubrano, 2004). Apparently, personality traits acquired from the fathers may very well prepare for functioning on the work floor, although these traits don’t suffice in an intellectual or entrepreneurial profession (Lubrano, 2004). Furthermore, the integrated level of ambition is typically more directed towards survival; maintaining a secure job has priority over climbing the professional ladder, in order to achieve more authority. Moreover those social skills to maintain distance, keep your thoughts to yourself, calculate chances, network, and analyze the right moment to act have not be learned from parents (Brands, 1992).

Consciousness of Origin Several anthology authors indicated that the issue of their origins was only revealed during a specific and cognizant confrontation. For some, this confrontation was an obvious dismissal of the individual’s background; for others it was the consequence of a simple question, an event or “moment of truth.” Prior to that moment, a vague sense of discomfort may have lingered

36

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

somewhere beneath the surface. Nonetheless, these feelings, experiences and responses had never been associated or labeled “working-class origin.” Until that instance the process had been no more or less than a determined, nonstop effort to move up on the path of social mobility, day in and out, with the inevitable crises, successes and obstacles. This was accompanied by an awareness of where they came from, as difficult communication with parents and various painful confrontations with colleagues were familiar occurrences; still, these were relatively insignificant and part of the game. Once jolted by the “moment of truth” the phenomenon was however thematized (Pegueros, 1995). Here, a turning point in identity politics can be discerned and the question is posed whether this newfound consciousness lies at the source of all actions that follow within the professional realm. The American anthologies are a product of scientific practice and identity politics. This standpoint of identity politics is shared by the British educational sociologists, who have researched the entrance of working-class children to higher education (Archer, Hutchings & Leathwood, 2001; Archer, Pratt & Phillips, 2001; Ball, Reay & David, 2002; Reay et al., 2001). The essence of this position is that consciousness of origin can be transformed to a strategic issue and subsequently utilized to achieve ambitions. This can be done in various ways. In the literature we can see, besides collective initiatives such as implementation of a research center, diverse examples of individual strategies (Unger, 1998; 2000). This can be anything from fl irting with background and labor-class snobbism—for example, We are more competent? (Christopher, 1995)—to a form of working-class level-headedness: Why do you make everything so complicated? (Brands, 1992) and astonishment about accomplishments: Who ever thought I could say such things? (Lubrano, 2004). What is more, there are those who have similar feelings but choose to keep these to themselves (Lubrano, 2004).

Conflicting Loyalties The evidence from the preceding theme shows that the context into which the individual arrives can influence the way in which background is experienced and to what extent it can be strategically utilized (Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993). At the same time, this can serve to repair the symbolic rift with parents. This strategic perspective is not as common in Dutch and Flemish literature. Here, instead, dilemmas are identified resulting from the discomfort accompanying various expectations and communication patterns with parents and other family members (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976; Krijnen, 1985; Brands, 1992). Despite a sense of integration (more or less) in the new milieu, bewilderment regarding unfamiliar and even unmanageable codes (and, as they see it, childish customs) persist. Puzzlement and irritations about the strange milieu are manageable in time. Adaptation occurs, and the rules of the game are learned. The attitude of colleagues, however, who behave as though their jobs are there

A Tough Life?

37

to serve them, instead of vice versa, remains the main source of confl ict (Brands, 1992). These individuals from the working class, on the other hand, have had to work hard and long to attain their goals, while struggling to overcome doubts of adequacy and suitability for the job. Consequently, motivated to excel, the job itself acquires major significance. Feelings of gratitude and loyalty to the job itself, sustained by deeply rooted work ethic learned from fathers, are challenged and tested. Colleagues’ careerism is especially frustrating: the continuous push to the foreground and need to score, especially when this is accompanied by groveling to authority (Kovacovic, 1995). Our target group has the intelligence and the professional knowledge, but misses the desire to be the focus of attention (Krijnen, 1985; Brands, 1992). With consideration to colleagues, they feel their conduct is disingenuous and pointless.

Career Choices It is uncertain if origin and milieu are determining factors for career choice or not. There are, however, indications that a preference exists for professions that allow staying close to home or those where practical knowledge (street savvy) and ethics related to work and care are associated (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976; Brands, 1992; Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993; Lubrano, 2004). For jobs that require bravery, employers appear to prefer hiring employees from a working-class background over others (Lubrano, 2004). Then again, there are other indications that working-class children do not automatically opt for professions where either personal fi nancial investment or a certain collective sprit is expected (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). This is a question of not possessing the capital, and, even more so, lacking expectation of acceptance in such circles. The vital network is not at hand, and in the end these individuals stand alone. Parents and the personal circle cannot be expected to provide guidance and support for open-minded career exploring. Advice is rather given indirectly, namely through value and expectation systems, instead of active communication and conversation (Brands, 1992). The insecurity felt by the new graduate can lead to a form of self-damnation by accepting the fi rst job that comes up. A bureaucratic position stands as symbol for this “playing safe,” just because of job security and the accompanying pension (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). These aspects not only symbolize everything that the father never had, but offer a safeguard against having to prove originality and act underhandedly. It appears as if once a university degree has been awarded, the individual surrenders and the degree becomes the substitute for a career. This situation is moreover legitimized with clichés used in working-class circles to justify the status quo (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). Loyalty to the parental home can thus play a significant role in career choice and restricted ambition. Career choice is therefore a classic symbol of how identification with the parental home is manifested—that is, if continuing recognition by

38 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility the graduated son or daughter, one way or another, is desired or not, and if the earlier initiated separation permanently endures or not (Hooks, 1993; Reay, 1998; Tokarczyk, 1993; Zandy, 1990, 1994).

Job and Career The essence of the literature shows that the career starts with and develops under less favorable conditions than the careers of colleagues from higher social classes. Some fi nd themselves in “challenging” positions and others in jobs that have been hastily accepted because working-class employees assume they are not in a position to make demands (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). At the career’s beginning these starters can suffer the socalled imposter syndrome (Clance & Imes, 1987; Harvey, 1982, Leary et al., 2000; Matthews & Clance, 1985; Ryan & Sackrey, 1996; Sennett & Cobb, 1992; see also Want & Kleitman, 2006) or the obsessive question if where they fi nd themselves is actually where they belong; how could they even think they are capable of doing the job, and what if they unmasked as imposters? (Charlip, 1995). What is particularly striking is that starters from higher-class families view their jobs as a beginning, while for workingclass starters new jobs appear to be the fi nal destination (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). We also observe disparity in career development. Graduates from the working-class ascend slower through company hierarchy and their peak is lower (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976). Moreover, this group lands in less-prestigious functions with inferior status and resultant responsibilities (Tokarczyk, 1993). In contrast to this lower standing is a high work ethic, greater professional knowledge and a stronger motivation to work (Brands, 1992). If we combine these characteristics with a difficult start, a low ambition curve, and subordinate functions, then the portrayal of the career is less than attractive. The consulted literature, however, conveys other messages: gratitude for achievements, a feeling of comfort at the university in due course, a fulfi lling life, and a sense of belonging to society’s elite (Brands, 1992). And there are still those who advance to top functions, where earnings are sizeable (Lubrano, 2004).

Masculinity and Femininity The literature illustrates discrepancies between upward mobility patterns of men and women, but especially evident is how social origin works as a connecting factor (Archer, Hutchings & Leathwood, 2001; Archer, Pratt & Phillips, 2001; Ball, Reay & David, 2002; Reay et al., 2001). There is evidence that the American fi nancial world chiefly appeals to male graduates from the working class, due to their machismo, in combination with daring, a propensity for adventure, willpower, and the strength to break through barriers (Lubrano, 2004). On the other hand, boys from the working class are branded as sissies. Perhaps this contradiction is specific to

A Tough Life?

39

all university graduates originating from working-class backgrounds, and this is incorporated in diverse personality traits and they have learned to utilize these in varied contradictory situations and apply these flexibly and adequately, as the situation demands. Women as well show that they benefit from specific qualities learned in their childhood environment. Women tell about a combination of applying feminine variations of street wisdom and perseverance to overcome difficult situations (Gardner, 1993). There are some with little affi nity with feminism, as they had never learned to internalize the role patterns associated with the suppressed wife/mother, simply because their own mothers were too busy during the childrearing phase to convey such a message (Childers, 2000; Christopher, 1995). Then again, a girl’s desire to study further meets with more rejection than a boy’s in the family’s environment; after all, an educated daughter poses a threat to her future duties as wife and mother (Archer & Leathwood, 2006). Boys have more insight into the functional aspects of further studies; girls show more interest in the facets related to personal development (Archer & Leathwood, 2006).

Guardians of Academic Authenticity Working-class children in universities develop a solid social intelligence, making it possible to penetrate superficial codes and simultaneously navigate the academic world (Brands, 1992). Despite this fact, utilizing these social skills does not lead automatically to internalization of the new values and norms, bond or kinship. The highest attainable is a more or less comfortable association with the others (Brands, 1992). These individuals learn reserve and restraint in regard to expressing personal standpoints. This leads to an “individualistic turn,” going one’s own way and preferably working with other individualists because, in essence, these persons feel responsible for their own work and have little need to debate every single detail with colleagues (Brands, 1992). This can also result in missionary zeal, namely protecting the university for uncompromising pragmatism and defending the academic legacy, with criticism as the fundamental value (Brands, 1992; Black, 2005; Reay, 1998). There is, furthermore, a tendency to attribute universal traits to colleagues from a different class. Striking is the characterization of “the other” as narcissistic and pragmatic versus qualifying oneself as socially intelligent and a guardian of original academic values, in contrast to superficiality and individualism. This is in addition to rejection of identification and integration (Black, 2005; Brands, 1992). With the passing of the years, the cautionary attitude is set free and personal views become easier to share, without consideration of the judgment of others. Consequently, integration transpires more easily (Brands, 1992). Particularly with Barney Dews and Leste Law (1995) we encounter examples of a constructive association with contrasting identity claims. The realization that the sacred social doctrines

40 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility are, in essence, myths, and that the construction of other social beliefs is a natural by-product of social mobility, is a liberating outcome (Lang, 1995).

Intelligence and Other Personal Characteristics The stories of those who have been successful unmistakably demonstrate that stimulating circumstances have played a role. But in addition, personal strength and potential have contributed to success. Brands’s study and the anthologies put the spotlight on intelligent and gifted people, often with a soundly developed intellectual ethos. However, if someone should happen not to have immediately passed an exam or failed to adequately approach a study, this is attributed to the struggles involved with overcoming structural and cultural obstacles (Brands, 1992). Moreover, there are those who report having had poor study attitudes (reproductive instead of creative) and blame this on the fact that learning to ask appropriate questions was a skill not acquired at home. Others felt they had foundered because they were on their own when it came to organization and arrangement of their study (Brands, 1992). Though intelligence may be a crucial condition, it is in no way an isolated provision for successfully completing a course of upward mobility. From the perspective of developmental psychology, in order to account for successful social mobility, Snarey & Vaillant (1985) aimed to discover if other personality traits played a significant role besides intelligence. Which coping styles have helped working-class children to clear social and cultural hurdles? Significant to this question is what they call the ego-defense mechanism, or a hierarchical series of unconscious psychological mechanisms that help the individual to overcome stressful situations. They anticipate that a significant change in upward mobility occurs when, as they describe, more mature or ripe defense mechanisms are utilized. The utilization of ripe mechanisms ensures that ideas and desires correspondent with reality. But this is not enough. Snarey & Vaillant also emphasize the significance of environmental factors, while stating that the nature of the relationship with the environment can lead to important variations. Based on regression analysis of existing research material of forty-yearold longitudinal studies (they refer to the Gluecks’ survey, 1950, 1966, 1988), Snarey and Vaillant conclude that among the fi rst-generation social climbers, it is, above all, ripe ego-mechanisms that contribute significantly to the differentiation that occurs in individual social mobility and that three of these demonstrate a cognitive component: rationalization, intelligence and anticipation. Intelligence in their view is a more significant factor than social and personal efforts (Snarey & Vaillant make reference to Kohlberg et al, 1984) but not as important as rationalization. Rationalization is an ego defense mechanism from the intermediate group (less ripe, more neurotic) and is focused on isolating affections by formalization and neutralization. This mechanism facilitates the repression of immanent hostility

A Tough Life?

41

and social acceptance at work, without lapsing into conformism. This is namely the mechanism that ensures traditional success among the higher classes. Regarding this aspect, the parallels with the experience of a number of Lubrano’s straddlers are illuminating; one respondent of Swedish origin (Lubrano, 2004: 200) moved effortlessly through upper-class circles due to her sound Swedish upbringing, which taught her reserve and aloofness. Besides rationalization and intelligence, a third cognitive mechanism is of consequence, namely anticipation. This allows an individual to postpone fulfillment of needs and to plan, and it requires an ability to handle inner dissatisfaction and control mild fear with goal-oriented planning. Snarey and Vaillant conclude that social climbers from a working-class background also score higher in the areas of altruism, or a constructive effort made for others in charity, training and education, or developing themselves by helping others. Through these means, as described by Snarey & Vaillant, they maintain the connection to their past and are successful in managing the sense of a divided self. By helping others from the higher classes (where they now themselves belong) they are able to actualize a feeling of solidarity that they remember from the past (Snarey & Vaillant, 1985: 906). The apparent parallels with the key insights from the anthologies shown in this research are striking. In regard to intelligence, the gist of the study concerns children with an ability for learning. The respondents, however, are primarily focused on relaying how they have surmounted social and structural hurdles. Their testimony is, above all, about the fear, isolation, guilt, and insecurity that has been overcome and placed in context by means of ambition (as a solid and methodical form of anticipation). This occurs in specific paths that are not infrequently defi ned in terms of service and have taken on their form in the following political-strategic paths: democratizing of education (Brands, 1992), setting up organizations and organizing meetings for peers with similar situations (Ryan & Sackrey, 1996), and supporting and training students with similar backgrounds (Lee Linkon, 1999; Tokarczyk & Fay, 1993).

Victimhood Most biographical renderings concentrate on poverty, humiliation, denial and rejection. These, thus, can also be read as a legitimization and excuse: “That’s explains why I’m like this; that’s what repression does” (Childers, 2002). Moreover, only one aspect—the negative side—is shown. Being a youth in poverty in the Bronx has its advantages. Childers attributes the sovereignty, resilience, creativity, and street wisdom that she acquired during her childhood on her upbringing. In addition, she was spared by her milieu of origin certain types of gender-specific indoctrination (Childers, 2002: 303). Childers detects a psychological script of sorts, that prescribes what is to be emphasized and preferably expressed in the form of lamentation;

42

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

life course is simplified from individual growth to a structure of cause and effect. And so this script restructures not only fragmented memories but, above all, attempts to convince by making the experience of the narrator exemplary for a group (see also Tierney, 2000). The process of identity formation therefore receives the appearance of rebellion against the “other”—the ones perceived as the privileged middle class. Consequently, individuals belonging to this group are depersonalized and schematized as contra-figures with collective negative traits (see also Kosut, 2006). To clarify this situation, Childers uses Kahn and Masud’s (1963) concept of “cumulative traumas.” Cumulative traumas cannot be ascribed to exceptional occurrences, but rather to frequent consequential violations and deprivation during childrearing. These are manifested as chronic fear and the specific fears of loss of home, work, honor, and love, and particularly the loss of hope (Childers, 2002). According to Childers, the following sentiments are fundamental: feeling like a burden to others; magical thinking to handle poverty; helplessness to express personal feelings; unconditional empathy with parents, accompanied by the feeling of infringing on their lives. From this viewpoint, the biographical essays can be read as a means of working through this cumulative trauma. The problem here is that the authors strive for recognition for their pain without their being reduced to victims. This recognition is, however, only possible by removal from the repressive oppositional form of identity formation: “The idea that we have almost exclusive ownership of certain sources of pain can encourage a sense of victimization that goes beyond usefulness and accuracy and can license us to deny the complexity of the experience of others. Internalized oppression that achieves relief by overemphasizing specialness and separateness sets in motion a pattern of self-defi nition in opposition to mythically described others” (Childers, 2002: 214). The power of this thinking is that the comparison made with traumas, inflexibility and persistent guilt could provide a clarifi cation for loyalty confl icts and the imposter syndrome. The question, however, is if trauma is a suitable concept to explain the negative feelings related to material and social deprivation from a psychological perspective. My consideration is that the authors of the biographies demonstrate manifold and confl icting emotions. Ambition and individual capability also play a part. Moreover, without upward mobility, the confrontation with confl icting loyalties and ambivalence would never have taken place; in any case, there would have been no need to describe these as traumatic. Furthermore, the concept trauma tends towards overdetermination. As children these authors had desires that were unfamiliar for their parents and this, in itself, could well have provoked trauma. At the same time, a “normal” socialization occurred that predominantly created equality with others in their surroundings. The societal context appears within this framework,

A Tough Life?

43

formed by specific childrearing practice and a marginal environment during the formative years.

What Has Been My Contribution? “What has been my contribution?” This is our fi nal question and is both universal and milieu-transcending. However, this question is primarily aimed at discovering how respondents characterize themselves where individual competences, antecedents, and tangible social and cultural contexts intersect. The bulk of the literature is focused on these antecedents, within their structural context. Our respondents have unmistakably exceeded the context, precisely through effective use of the options and the facilities, which the same context had in store. This, however, was not the case for others from similar backgrounds, motivating the implicit question, “Why me and not the others?” And this is the question that repeatedly resounds. This brings me to the role of the individual, the subject that acts within the context, who attempts to interactively organize his or her own life. Every single biography tells the story of an intelligent child with a facility for learning who, moreover, was stirred to use his or her newly acquired knowledge. These children opened themselves to the enticement of books and the fantasy world they revealed. At the same time, in respect to their vision about the significance of existential matters (namely knowledge and life itself), confrontation was inevitable, internal as well as with the others. They learned, in time, to attach less meaning to the daily practical knowledge of their parents. Despite mockery, rejection and aggression they continued to pursue their escape in the world of fantasy and books; they were willing to pay the price of isolation and loneliness. Intelligence was not adequate; also vital were developing strength of character and defense resources. Numerous parents recognized their children’s plight and offered support, even with the understanding that this could lead to estrangement. Still they reconciled themselves with the prospect of future loss, despite the pain and sorrow. As time went by, these working-class children had to learn to plan, postpone gratification, cope with frustration and contend with fear and loneliness. No less imperative was rationalizing emotions and utilizing tactics to regulate loyalty. But above all, essential to survival was the ability to resolve the gap between the old and new way of life, maintain equilibrium, and continue to grow, with the underlying knowledge that in the end, self-reliance was critical.

3

3.1

Identity, Context and Agency

AIM AND STRUCTURE OF THE CHAPTER

The theme of the previous chapter concerns the subjects’ paradoxical relationship with their social surroundings, which is revealed in the awareness of living in two separate social worlds. Firstly, the affi liation with a social group based on an acquired position can be an uncomfortable situation. What is more, the bond with the milieu of origin has become strained. Strong emotional ties are commonly hampered by a sense of guilt and powerlessness. Relatives and friends from the past no longer recognize those who have left their former community; contempt or a disregard of the newly acquired position is felt by the latter. The outlook towards the old friend or family member has since changed; the obtained education and the world with which it is associated are behind this transformed attitude. This schism or feeling of being a straddler (Lubrano, 2004) continues to influence the adult life and career. The world of the past is seen through the eyes of the present and at the same time today’s world is judged through the values from the past. All of the essays and anthologies cited as well as the testimonies as recorded by Brands are variations of this theme. The vital question is this, however: What actually occurs with the individual during this route of social transition? Thus, in this chapter I aim to discover a concept of identity, which can shed light on these conflicting experiences and feelings about what has been endured as well as on the growth of the individual and how he or she has acted within the process. Are we seeing a conscious strategy by the individual aimed at moving away from an ascribed working-class identity towards an achieved middle-class identity, in order to be accepted as a valuable member (Kaufman, 2003)? Is this, as Kaufman states, a process of resocialization and the construction of a new social identity, where the past has to be reinvented to have it fit into the structure of the present? Is it feasible using Kaufman’s rather static conceptual framework to attain more insight in my previously mentioned schism? Or is it more likely that this schism is instead an illustration of a continuing and dynamic process of identity construction, where

Identity, Context and Agency 45 both conscious and unconscious desires, such as those related to class and gender-specific antecedents and contextual challenges are components? Based on this last perspective, these paradoxical relationships within the process of social transition can thus be perceived as the (temporary) product of a complex and layered developmental process, in which social and individual antecedents are active. In addition, the correlation of the tension that exists between structure, social context and subjectivity is a key element. Moreover, I pose that identity is the central linking factor between social context and subjectivity. Identity constitutes diversity as well as unity and is established within a theoretical framework that I have developed on the basis of, among others, Mead (1967), Bourdieu (1971, 1979), Giddens (1984), Turner (1982), Hall (1996, 2006), and Coté & Levine (2002). Diversity is seen as a varied and fluid form of connection to a layered, individualized social context and unity. This is the active creation of a synthesis in order to discover the individual course within diversity in order to remain recognizable to oneself and the others. The course taken along diverse theoretical perspectives is meant to establish my position in the debate regarding structural versus individual determination.1 In connection to the above and in regards to the debate of the nature and the extent of social determination, in the following section of this chapter I establish my position by defi ning identity as a social construction. In the second section, I provide a concise outline of the theoretical development of the relationship between the individual and society in classical sociology. The question that is raised is if and to what extent “subjectivity” and the individual potential to act presumes or should be seen as an “objective” product of societal interference. I assume that in opposition to the need for structure of the diverse social contexts, there exists a reaction potential in the individual and that individuality is hence a product of a person’s own interference (or agency). I elaborate on this need for structure based on the notions of social and cultural capital of Bourdieu; in order to substantiate agency, I employ the structure theory of Giddens. In the third section I investigate the concept of identification from the social identity theory (SIT). Identification is a psychological mechanism of identity construction by way of the attraction that a psychological connection offers to concepts and values of social groups in the individual’s field of view. Both the classical socialization and identity theories, such as the SIT approach, presume a differentiation between the social and personal self. I place a few remarks as regards this approach in the fourth section and, in view of Hall, work out an identity concept that on the one hand does not employ this distinction, and on the other hand does justice to the diversity and contradiction of the context in which the individual constructs identity. Above all, this identity concept positions the “experience of distinction” centrally; this is especially evident in the literature overview in Chapter 2. Hall, moreover, offers a theoretical foundation to interpret agency as an autonomous psychological potential.

46

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

In the fifth section, I further elaborate on the notion of agency supported by Coté’s vision of identity capital. By utilizing the word capital Coté not only makes the link with Bourdieu’s approach but in addition with thinking in structural terms. Therefore, a broader analytical framework is revealed. And hence the individual turn in the debate about social transition remains essentially connected with the structural and cultural prerequisites, in which these occur.

3.2

THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF IDENTITY

Identity and Interpellation In the course of the past decades, influenced by the individualization debates, a remarkable change of paradigms has taken place in the sociology of education. The opportunities for access to higher education are no longer approached, as noted by Archer (2006), among others, as a social economic (stratification) and/or political problem. This issue is approached instead as a complex question of socialization in which personal, structural and cultural influences are all operational. What is striking in the biographical essays from the former chapter is that the presumed “communality” of class position is manifested in abundant local variations, in which the social and economic reality is dealt with and negotiated in equally countless variants. The ensuing question is how much diversity can communality tolerate? The alteration in approach has theoretical as well as methodological consequences. The focus is no longer on the objective determination of the factors that obstruct talented children from the lower classes pursuing a further education. It is instead on the identity construction of the individual (Vanderstraeten, 2000) within diversifi ed socialization practices in which specifi c messages on higher education and social positions are expressed. To grasp the power of these messages, Hall (2006) makes use of the concept of interpellation, derived from Althusser (2006). 2 With this, Althusser indicates that it concerns an active and inevitable appeal to the individual to fi nd a connection to the meaning of “home” (Hall, 1996). This appeal can be considered to be a symbolic reference to the compelling insertion of the individual into the system of meaning that supported this message. This indeed concerns locally formulated messages and which are locally put in practice (in the family and at school) but simultaneously refer to a broader social and cultural context. The consequence of the interpellation is that—at the same time— the individual feels “at home” and as belonging to a greater entity. Loosely translated and with a reference to Stuart Hall (Hall, 1996), I call this feeling of being at home identity: I thus indicate the degree of the individual’s identification and connection with the meanings of the local and

Identity, Context and Agency 47 underlying societal context. This concise description has a temporary character and calls for further elaboration, which will follow in section 3.4. But there are some complex questions that fi rst call for an answer. Hall’s depiction of identity as the gradual result of these commitment and identification processes implies that my perception of this connection is dynamic and subject to change and that intervention of agents of meaning and/or messages are vital in order to realize and transform this connectedness with a meaning system. The implication is, above all, the initiative of a subject with psychological instruments at its disposal. In short, the emphasis of identity in the framework of social mobility is related to this shift in perspective; it is hence not derived from the communality of the class position, but from the increasing obviousness of individual and diversified opportunities for personal development. 3 This paradigm shift does not imply that there is no longer a question of structural, cultural or social obstacles. Neither is it my intention to suggest that an individual’s will and capacities should be considered the decisive factors for achieving social standing. The focal point is the dynamic interaction between social context, individual development and the meanings created within. From a historical perspective, how is this interaction between social context and individual in the framework of identity construction formulated within the social sciences, and which social and individual mechanisms are distinguished?

The “Self” and Society Pragmatism and Structuralism Generally speaking, the debate about the origins of identity can be found where sociology and psychology meet. This is the result of the introduction of the concepts of self and self-identification.4 An initial key position of these concepts was adopted by way of pragmatism and thanks to the contributions of James, Cooley, and Mead, which have been significant. The supporters of pragmatism then took on the discussion with the adherents of the Enlightenment’s transcendental self, an immanent “Self” that transcends everyday social reality, conceived as an intrinsic abstract source of knowledge, comprehension and ability for sound judgment. The concept of “I” represents this meaning of self. The pragmatists tend to define this concept as subordinated to the social “self,” the “Me” (Holstein & Gubrium, 2000; Mead, 1967). This shift in thinking in the social sciences has thus positioned the self as a social “object” and as a substantial part of a normal social life.5 The “self” is hence removed from its philosophical isolation and, akin to the other “selves” (those that share the environment), becomes, in addition to the subject, especially the object of experience. In order not to reduce the “self” to mere receptiveness, it is actively and dynamically positioned and provided with the competencies necessary to move through societal reality with confidence. Of particular

48 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility significance is that the “self” needs the others in order to interpret oneself; as a result the individual has as many social selves as there are persons to recognize that individual (James, 1961). The dilemma is that pragmatism can hardly avoid the confrontation with the experience of the self. Mead finds a solution by viewing feelings, knowledge and interaction as a consequence and not the source of the formation of the “self”: the “I” is the answer to the attitude of the others (Mead, 1967). Self-awareness, for Mead, is the inner representation of external conversation with the others and there is no strict demarcation between inner life and social interaction (Holstein & Gubrium, 2000: 27). The self is created in language; it is part of a process of communication and interaction: it does not simply come to be. Who we are is a question that the “I” always answers with “it’s me,” by referring to the communicative sources of experience; it can only refer to the authentic “I” through a reflexive relationship to the “Me” (Mead, 1934). Both the “I” and the “Me” need the daily experience to exist empirically. Due to social determination we are obliged to consider the “self” as an integral part of social relationships; it is hence diversely constructed from differentiated roles (Holstein & Gubrium, 2000: 30). This social defi nition of the “self” as theoretical fundament for an optimistic and normative view of the democracy, in which participation of the individual is considered to be essential, acquires a specific turn according to the perception of David Riesman (1950). Riesman refers to the social I (“Me”) as a character and calls this the “more or less permanent socially and historically conditioned organization of individual’s drives and satisfactions ” (Riesman, 1950: 4). At the same time, though, he does not reduce the total “self” to the socialized character but positions the social “self” alongside a psychological self that can resist society’s pressure in an autonomous manner. His central hypothesis is that social change generates specific dominant types of characters: modern industrial society produces the inner-directed personality (guided by an inner compass) and the postindustrial consumption society produces the other-directed personality (guided by sensitivity to the wishes of others). This clear relationship between societal types and social character may guarantee conformity and continuity. However, it does not necessarily automatically determine agency. An individual can always strive to choose a personal course. The idea of socialization of character is further radicalized by Whyte in his position that Americans blindly follow the urban and business-oriented dream, when he refers to “Organization Man” (Whyte, 1956; Holstein & Gubrium, 2000). Normality and conformity are viewed as an alternative for the disintegration of traditional social relationships. The American mentality of corporate identity invades and occupies other aspects of life as well (for instance, family and leisure). The enhanced efficiency of “group and organizational thinking” is central to this mind-set to counterbalance traditional middle-class individualism.

Identity, Context and Agency 49 Even so, this “group and organizational thinking” has taken on despotic tendencies and stimulates the tyranny of the majority. Nonetheless, the individual is given a sense of security by the group and experiences authority as liberating, due to the connection and confi rmation that is not provided by individualism (Whyte, 1956: 59). Parsons’s (1967) structural functionalism radicalizes this vision through the development of an identity concept that serves the order and stability of the social system. Identity is the social body within the individual and should be seen as the product of successful integration of societal values and norms, expressed in the individual’s actions. By means of socialization, identification, and differentiation, a basic and consistent personality structure is created. And subsequently, through the social control that follows, social institutions regulate individual acts in such a manner that the social system remains intact (Parsons, 1967: 229). In an effort to recover the autonomy of the individual from societal dominance, Dennis Wrong characterizes this formalizing of the relationship between individual agency and societal reproduction as an “oversocialized conception of man” (Wrong, 1961). Sociologists, according to Wrong, have been excessively focused on the Freudian notion of the superego in order to clarify why identity conforms to societal demands. In addition, they have lost sight of the significance of the “id” as the site of unknown motives, which ignore the social order (Wrong, 1961: 187). This structuralist approach to the origin of identity, which can be viewed as one of the underpinning lines in the development of an identity theory, has a counterpart in Marxist theory. In orthodox Marxism, the social class to which an individual belongs determines consciousness. Class and identity are homogeneously and linearly connected. The class of which an individual is part establishes how meaning is attached to existence. In addition, class determines lifestyle, childrearing techniques and attitudes in regard to educational opportunity (Pakulski & Waters, 1996: 10). In this context class is situated in the realm of economic production (Marshall et al., 1988). Influenced by Weber, it has been recognized that other sources of class identity (“exceptional circumstances”) could too be relevant; still, a trace of orthodox Marxism continues to linger (Wright, 1985: 273; cited by Emmison & Western, 1990: 2). Even the tendency, in certain circles, to refer to Laclau and Mouffe (2001), who make a case for the diversity and discursive constrution of identity and critisize this essentialistic approach with Marxist arguments, has not suceeded in convincing certain Britsh Marxists to distance themselves from the concept of unity of class and identity (Pakulski & Waters, 1996: 125). Bourdieu and Giddens Efforts to transcend structuralism are encountered in the work of Bourdieu and Giddens (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977a; Giddens, 1984). The importance

50 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility of Bourdieu for my study lies in his theory regarding the meaning of culture for the reproduction of societal hierarchal relationships. Cultural arrangements are intended for the denial and disguise of these relationships and their subsequent repression, thus sustaining structural inequality. This reproduction is, however, not an automatism; the diverse social practices, or fields, are confl ict areas in which the actors attempt to resist the pressure of social structures. As individuals become better equipped in accumulating economic, cultural and social capital, they are better prepared to escape social pressure. Societal positioning is thus related to the social and cultural capital, which the individual has access to through origin and social position. Social capital is, generally speaking, associated with the networks that are already in place and can be submitted as capital, in order to acquire social positions. Cultural capital concerns the question of how culture can consolidate these positions by means of the continuous classification and generating of differentiation (Bourdieu, 1971, 1984). This classification manifests itself, as said by Bourdieu, not in the complexity of the esthetic composition itself but through the behavior that belongs to it and the accompanying social rituals (attending classical concerts, for example), being “at the place to be” (for instance, museums and galleries) and demonstrating proper taste (art in the home). This is the way in which individuals present social distinction and its meaning, namely that company is being kept with equals and there is a keen awareness of who does and does not belong. It all comes down to the acquisition and maintenance of a social position and managing the sense of distinction (le sens de la distinction). Even though this mode of classification applies to all social groups, it is of major significance to our research how this mechanism is manifested in the higher social classes; through the demonstration of “esthetic taste” a continuous distinction is constructed and reproduced (economically, socially, culturally and professionally) between the elite and the “others” (Bourdieu, 1984). Essential in this context is the concept of habitus; this describes the close connection between the deepest physical and psychological layers and the societal conditions in which the individual lives. Through physical presentation, individuals emanate, so to speak, their personal social position (Bourdieu, 1979). Despite his tendency toward structural reductionism (Evens, 1999; King, 2000; Kingston, 2001), Bourdieu provides sturdy tools to analyze structures and mechanisms of exclusion, which, for example, are concealed in job application procedures, social rituals and communication patterns (see also Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977). The remaining problem is that—despite Bourdieu’s characterization of habitus as active and inventive (Bourdieu 1984)—structural pressure is stronger than the person’s potential to act individually. Here Giddens appears to offer an opening through the concept of “duality of structures.” Structures and institutions condition the social system and human action. This, however, takes place indirectly, which means

Identity, Context and Agency 51 that it occurs through the meanings that have always been active within (Giddens, 1984). But the opposite applies as well and social practices and human activity influence structures and institutions. The individual can thus creatively and reflexively operate as agent and make a radical break from the routines that refer to the structures. By this, Giddens restores, in a manner of speaking, the active subject without lapsing into voluntarism. The effect of this outlook is that the individual’s course of identity does not have to be perceived as a product of class structure; it can be seen instead as something formed in social practice, in which—besides structural and contextual antecedents—creative (inter)active change and diversity can be generated. This point of view implies that the reproduction of inequality can also occur in original creative and diversified manners and that emancipation can be achieved by means of subjection and other routines. Giddens uses Willis’s 1977 study to substantiate this position. Willis, as noted by Giddens, demonstrates that the lads (see Chapter 1) see through (“penetrate”) the authoritarian school system. This insight is not the consequence of analysis but is obvious through their words and deeds. The lads behave as skillful and rational agents according to Giddens (1984). Their typical macho culture of “having a laff” is an example of its expression. In the fi rst chapter, I have pointed out how Willis, through means of concepts such as penetration, limitation and “self-damnation,” illustrates why the lads retain the identification model of the hard life of the factory laborer. By doing so, as stated by Giddens, they actively contribute to the reproduction of social relationships and illustrate the way in which “social forces” operate, by way of agents, within the context of the reproduction of broader institutional forms (Giddens, 1984: 293). However, in their own manner the ear-ôles “see through” these authoritarian structures, but on the contrary identify with the values behind scholastic theoretical knowledge. What thus lies behind one fraction of the same group utilizing its room to maneuver, hence apparently choosing to remain within the group while the other accepts the scholastic system, making the most of the opportunity of upward mobility? In order to formulate a response to this question, my elaboration on the assumption of social identification, as developed by the social identity theory (SIT), follows.

3.3

IDENTITY AS OUTCOME OF GOUP IDENTIFICATION

As described by Tajfel, social identity is that component of the concept of self that refers to knowledge, experience, and value attributed to belonging to a certain social group (Tajfel, 1982). Founded on this notion, Tajfel develops a cognitive model, where he states why individuals consider themselves to be part of specific groups, feel affectively connected, adhere to its notions and behave accordingly. The feeling by an individual of belonging to a certain group does not concern the question “where do I fit in?” but

52 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility rather “who am I?” (Turner, 1982). Moreover, “being someone” is identical to clearly demonstrating which group the individual belongs to. Connection to a group is a condition for self-defi nition, self-perception and self-esteem. The mechanism effectuating this is the social classification by way of positively assessed group characteristics. This pertains not only to the group that the individual considers belonging to but also to the social group that the individual aspires to be part of (Turner, 1982). Significant is that this does not primarily pertain to identification with the “actual group” but with the values that the group represents. Therefore, the SIT can provide plausible leads to grasp the issue of the loyalty confl ict, discussed in the last chapter. In the biographies treated here there were, contrary to a negative characterization of members of the middle class, oftentimes an acceptance of their values and ideas. Here is thus a question of role models, who unequivocally represent the positive group traits or values and therefore play a crucial unifying role (see also Turner, 1982: 26). Involved here is a cognitive act aimed at the recognition of individuals as representatives of the group values, which appeal to the actor: the fathers for the lads and the teachers for the ear-ôles. Social classification is an important mechanism for identification. Although persons can play both a positive or negative intermediating role in the process, the outcome is that an individual experiences the feeling of belonging to a certain group, not so much because of a bond with persons in the group but because of specific values that are experienced positively. At issue here is “psychological membership” of a “cognitively defined” group that through a mechanism of acceptance and rejection regulates self-positioning. In addition, enhancement and rejection are thus regulated. The stereotyping of middle class people by working-class academics (WCAs) as a rejection mechanism functions more as a contra-identification (see also Childers, 2002) than as an “objective” determination of position, in accordance with the SIT. The dilemmas that the WCAs have to contend with (and this also applies to various educational sociologists) is that they are, in fact, themselves members of the middle class but at the same time want to legitimize their research based on their working-class background. By attempting to solve this dilemma by creating yet a new social classification, they thus position themselves as a separate group of academics with a separate educational discourse (Black, 2005). Presenting themselves as such reinforces the identity-effect by way of conformism to the self-constructed group values as well as exclusion from the group that one does not want to be part of (Turner 1982; see also Tajfel, 1982). The resulting pressing question concerns the incongruity in the identification effect described above, namely identification with values but not with those persons who hold these values. In other words, these individuals would like to belong to a social group but in order to do so achieve exclusion from another group. Or, as stated by Van Wijk, the cognitive feeling of connection—inherent to identification—does not necessarily lead to

Identity, Context and Agency 53 internalization of the values or to the intention to demonstrate the socially acceptable behavior (Van Wijk, 2007). Why, as apparently illustrated by the example of the WCAs, is it feasible to feel the appeal of certain values of the other class without the desire to belong? It is seemingly possible to create new positions and discourse coalitions within the “other” value system. Put differently, the consequence of identification can be incongruous and manyfaceted. The SIT theoretical model appears to be too limited to conceptualize the dynamic process that precedes the outcome of identification (Van Wijk, 2007); the model is too static and this is reinforced by the distinction between personal and social identity, employed by Turner (1982), for example. The acquisition of another social identity by means of socialization, as Kaufmann (2003) presumes, is not at issue. That would imply a question of standard identities accompanying social entities. This approach, however, neglects the individualized, dynamic and continuously changeable environment as I have characterized in Chapter 1 (see also Hurrelmann et al., 2002). Therefore, in the following section, I make the connection between the notion of identification and a theory of identity construction, in which process and outcome are interwoven, social and personal identity cannot be discerned, and where the fragmentation and many-layered quality of both context and individual is given due recognition.

3.4

FRAGMENTED IDENTITY

Starting Point Up until this point, I have taken the steps in the development of an identity concept described as follows. Supported by pragmatism, I have demonstrated that identity construction is an utterly social process. Neither the dichotomizing of the social and personal identity of this approach or social determination can adequately thematize contemporary social diversity. Aided by Bourdieu and Giddens, I have subsequently linked the meaning of the diversified social and cultural context to the significance of agency (Bourdieu, 1977, 1984; Giddens, 1984). Hence, a dynamic and open identity concept is created, in which context and subject are in constant interaction with one another.6 Key is the dynamic and not the result. Moreover, agency does not imply manipulability: corresponding to Bourdieu, I assume that human capacity for (self)determination is very limited. Particularly at issue here is that an identity theory provides context and agency; these are to be utilized as perspectives, not to be viewed as the product of one thing or another. In order to make agency and manipulability feasible, this theory is in need of articulated “temporary” pauses, where agency can arise. In addition agency namely signifies self-consciousness and a sense of autonomy. In Stuart Hall’s vision, I encounter a basis and concepts to further expand on such a theory.

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

Distinction I focus initially on the identity concept in the sense of self-awareness and agency acquisition. Just as the SIT, this occurs through specific association with others. In other words, identity makes me someone, distinct from the others, particularly through identification with these others. We fi nd one of the most striking descriptions of distinction, as identity-determining criterion, in Stuart Hall (Hall, 1996). He uses the immigrant experience to illustrate the “normal modern experience” of the fragmented personality in a short essay: an immigrant feels per defi nition “different” than the rest due to a specific position. However, identity is acquired by shaping this difference into the central biographical factor. He exemplifies his standpoint with reference to the story of young British blacks, who, despite having undergone racist discrimination, occupy the city centers as if these were their actual property. Marginality is thus symbolically represented as identity experience. This approach, according to Hall, is typically postmodern as it provides recognition of what has always been a component of identity though never before expressed: who and what an individual is, is intimately related to what that person is not. Identity marks a distinction, but what kind? According to Hall, the being I am or my authentic self, thus my identity, arises at the unstable juncture where the unspoken stories of personal subjectivity and the stories of history and culture meet. He sees the parallel with his own immigrant experience. When he was asked, “Why are you here?” and “When are you going back home?” (Hall, 1996: 115), he had his own standard responses at hand: “for education, for a better life, more opportunities.” These “formal” responses, in actuality, cloak a subjective story: “I’m here because it’s where my family is not. I really came here to get away from my mother.” Immigration in his view is the escape from patriarchal family existence as the unconscious quest for the so-called imaginary “true self.” To put it in more general terms, in order to become yourself and live life autonomously, it is necessary to take leave of the values of home. All the while, your family remains part of who you are, and so states Hall, “I certainly was always aware of the self as only constituted in that kind of absent-present contestation with something else, with some other ‘real me’ which is and isn’t there” (Hall, 1996: 116). Just as immigration, identity also revolves unconsciously around dislocation, in the case of social transformation. In fact, upward social mobility can only be achieved if there is an awareness of personal origin from the perspective of the individual’s current situation. And this occurs at the moment of realization of being different from others; knowledge of who and what you are depends on acknowledgement of this difference. This is where Hall introduces the notion of power and stability: namely as long as an individual, within a social position, cannot label him- or herself as black (due to colonial rule), then there is still no question of identity. Labeling oneself means differentiation along the lines of specific characteristics with

Identity, Context and Agency 55 a societal significance. In colonial times identity was exclusively for Caucasians: the term black could only be applied at the moment that the distinction with whites was relevant (due to political and societal circumstances). Only then does the true identity appear, to be exact: I am an immigrant; I am black; I am from the working class; I am different. This, states Hall, is a complex learning process; identity is not a simple antithesis. Moreover, identification with the black community or the working class is equivalent to identifying with an imaginary community. The symbolic and imaginary character of these communities is, however, real, to the extent that they provide concrete structure to the dialogue between subject and culture. In addition this holds for the reason that this dialogue always refers to actual histories (Hall, 1996). It is necessary to exclude a part of reality in order to achieve selfhood by way of identification. In regard to the WCAs, they do not identify with an actual working class but rather with a construed idea of what this signifies. It is a fictive working class, in which only those components considered vital for their own identity have been incorporated. Identity forming thus presumes “arbitrary but vital isolating.” At a certain moment it becomes necessary to terminate the conversation, in order to have closure. This does not mean that “the self” and “society” are universal truths. But now and at this point in time these are relevant concepts. This may no longer apply as the conversation evolves, depending on the other participants in the dialogue.7 It is here that Hall does a reversal of sorts. The presentation of the “self” as a strategic act, in the public arena, is central to the description of identity—even if it happens to be unintentional. Marginality and relocation become key ingredients: I am permitted to be here not despite of but, in fact, because of my marginality. What I am undergoing has its history and is therefore a central societal reality. My presentation negates my exclusion; I am part of the whole. This presence is translated on a conscious level into identity politics, which is the motivation of working-class academics. In other words: if the other fails to distinguish me as a full-fledged individual, I will ensure that this takes place by way of my presence and my story that legitimizes recognition. Significant here is the acknowledgment of social reality as layered and fragmented, in which centrality and marginality are interchangeable traits and—depending on the context—translate that reality through a discursive practice in innumerable forms of fragmented identity. By this, class is theoretically put into the perspective of central identification category that acts as mediator during the formation of other social identities, such as woman, man, intellectual or laborer. It is, thus, no longer a question of static identities referring to a conglomerate of central traits, but rather characteristics that are perceived as temporary, changeable and incomplete (du Gay, 2006). Identity becomes separated from normality. Hall (2006) resists here the classic identity approach, focused on communality and shared character traits with other members of a group. Instead, he puts the discursive approach in

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

position, which views identification as a construction, a never-ending process that can be won or lost. The outcome of identification becomes conditioned although the context will always produce a difference. Identification is a temporary attachment, not an annexation/permanent enclosure. The attachment can be strong or weak; it can join and then release itself. There is, states Hall, always a certain measure of too much or too little, never a perfect fit. In order to consolidate the process, a “constitutive exterior” is needed. To illustrate, a masculine identity form is reliant on a female identity form to offset itself from. Thus, correspondingly, a working-class identity needs a middle-class identity (see also Childers, 2002). The classic essentialist theories deal with the opposition between and the hierarchies within two poles—that is, black and white, man and woman, physical labor and intellectual work—but these theories also consider man as equivalent to person and intellectual work as superior to manual labor. These oppositions have been extensively treated in the previous chapters, and particularly the opposition between working-class identity and middle-class identity. Multiple and varied forms of attachment and the socalled “working-class values” passed in review. This attachment, however, is accompanied by detachment of the same so-called working-class values (Lubrano, 2004). And at the same time, the question of attachment and identification as well as discussion and reflection occurs. In other words, the subject initiates action and agency occurs. The question that thus arises is how agency should be viewed psychologically in relation to the context in order to make it feasible.

The Autonomy of the Subject According to Hall (2006: 11) the notion of identity implies that the activity of the subject and the appealing discursive context come together at an equal level in a single idea. The process of identity construction is thus afforded a twofold meaning, namely the channeling of the individual desires in socially acceptable forms and the reproduction of social relationships (Hall, 2006: 20). In Hall’s vision, the difficulty with identity is in the presumption of equality in the social and psychological field: although they are linked they remain separate entities. By presuming that the subject can be “appealed to” as the central mechanism of identity construction, the social field is awarded with disproportionate power and the road to the fall of determinism is opened. Hall, with the help of Hirst (1979), makes an effort to avoid determinism, with the assumption that persons have an innate psychological potential to react, even before the individual has been formed as a subject. Therefore, the entity that is not a subject must already be equipped with the facility to recognize and grasp what it will constitute as subject. The issue here is, therefore, not personal identity but instead personal potential. This is analogous to the unconsciousness in psychoanalysis that in the process of identity construction develops agency by way of interaction with the social context.

Identity, Context and Agency 57 Based on Giddens and Willis, I have previously held that the concept of agency implies that societal forces operate by means of the motives of agents (Giddens, 1984: 293). This provides an argument for the conceptual equality of the psychological and societal and for the subject’s autonomy. In order not to be caught up in the discussion over the relationship between Hall’s postulated potential and agency—and thus in the question of whether equality is ontologically founded—I prefer to address the issue of equal perspectives, from which the social reality of identity construction can be approached (Craib, 1998; Fay, 1996). And so Hall’s psychological perspective, regarding a subject acting autonomously, can be complemented by Giddens’s sociologically founded concept, agency. In regard to identity construction, both authors offer too few tools to construct an operational concept of the dynamically acting subject. What are the capacities that a dynamically acting and identity-construing subject take for granted? Within the concept of identity capital as developed by Coté I encounter a conceptual framework, in which societal context as well as psychological developmental mechanisms become interactively involved, and, moreover, where it does matter which competencies an individual is able to contribute to that end. I elaborate on this conceptual framework in the following section.

3.5

INDIVIDUALIZATION, PERSON AND SUBJECT

In my approach, inspired by Hall, identity construction supposes an autonomously acting subject. The individual has subjective potential that makes personal shaping, styling, restyling and creative content possible. But autonomy and agency suppose interventions through interaction with the social and cultural context. In that context, I view the individual course of identity formation as continuously breaking open, a dynamic result of a constant stream of endless interacting interventions as well as the psychological competencies at the individual’s disposal. The result is the capacity to act, guaranteed by social processes and structures. Moreover, form is obtained from local practices, which lead to individuals creating interactive meanings for these customs; the form given to their lives is based on these. As we have discovered from Snarey and Vaillant (1985), the specific workings of “ego defense mechanisms” provide a decisive contribution to the possibility of successful upward social mobility. In addition, it requires specific social skills to cope with a fragmented identity and to transcend a marginal position (Unger, 1998, 2000). These insights should lead to a theory of the subjective potential already present in the human psyche, one that complements the theory of the significance of discursive practices— this potential develops in relationship to and influenced by these mentioned practices, within the structural context.

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

In order to provide direction to the study of psychological mechanisms, the underlying question is focused on the individual’s passage into adulthood. Adulthood is defined, as a rule, as the capacity to accept reflexive responsibility for oneself and for others. The so-called formative phase—when the subjective performance competencies reach a relatively permanent form, finally culminating in institutional realization through societal participation (that is, work and committed relationships)—is of major importance. A key issue in this debate is the manner in which adolescence is concluded and the accompanying ego-identity is realized (Coté, 1993, 1996, 1997, 2006; Coté & Levine, 1988; Coté & Schwarz, 2002; Erikson, 1968; Van Hoof, 1999a, 1999b; Iedema & Meeus, 1998; Marcia, 1966, 1980; Meeus et al., 1999; Waterman, 1988). In the following sections, I elaborate on Coté’s notion of identity development. The appeal of his notion lies in his perspective regarding identity capital, where he explicitly links competencies of the individual and the notion of the individualizing society.

Individualization as Societal Process In order to attune the psychological and sociological approaches to identity and thus the associated intrapsychological and social structural concepts, Coté and Levine (2002: 58) debate the concept of individualization, developed by Beck (1991, 2002). In reference to Beck, and to Coté and Levine (2002), who refer to Wallace (1995: 13), I defi ne individualization as the societal tendency for a growing necessity for individual self-reflection, regarding decision making and identity choices from an ever-increasing arsenal of possibilities and options. Individualization consists of opportunities as well as pitfalls. The freedom to choose is accompanied by continuous pressure to reflect on relationships with others, the necessity to think ahead, and to constantly make life choices with possible far-reaching implications and accountability for success, limitations and failure. The relationship between individualization and antecedents of class, ethnicity and gender are essential (Coté & Levine, 2002: 59). I previously shed light on this relationship during my treatment of the notion of choice biography, which I criticized due to its relative denial of the social context, the concept which in turn is too dominantly thematized in the notion of “standard biography.” Without a doubt, at fi rst glance, these notions of choice biography and individualization appear to apply to the life course of my target group. They have, after all, individually transcended the structural boundaries of social class. On the other hand, their testimonies about loyalty confl icts have led me to believe that despite this course of individualization, the experience of class difference does not automatically disappear.8 Therefore I fi nd it is noteworthy that Beck & Beck-Gernsheim (2002: 30) have strongly emphasized the significance of social inequality in the individualization debate and that individualization is not exclusively a discourse but fundamentally

Identity, Context and Agency 59 related to the social and economic change of postindustrialization. One such change is the vast expansion of the labor market and welfare state, thus creating a demand for study options; this, in turn, stimulated further education for the target group. The process of individualization applies specifically to this group as its members are confronted with the necessity of taking leave of their “class identity” and constructing individualized identity in its place (Beck & Beck-Gernsheim 2002: 100). It is within this framework that Giddens elaborates on the importance of biography (Giddens, 2005). In his view, individualization requires a constant search to the “self”; the individual is personally responsible for this path and must therefore develop the necessary competencies. Self-questioning, self-observation and self-transformation are crucial competencies in order to construct a biographical narrative, where personal experience is differentiated form the masses (Giddens, 2005: 76). Giddens speaks here of “life politics” or strategic life planning as “inevitable concomitant of post-traditional social forms” (Giddens, 2005: 85). Key competencies for these life politics are, among other things, self-actualization on the edge between chance and risk, and self-referentiality to integrate experience in personal development and authenticity, as loyalty to the connecting thread of self-actualization. The demands that the individualized society confronts the individual with are concerned here. The concept ego identity provides a conceptual framework so that the competencies of the individual can develop and actualize in order connect to these demands.

Identity Capital Coté assumes that the common “capital concepts” in the technocratic and individualized society are more and more losing their discriminating capacity to mark “life’s passages” (Coté, 1996: 425). These concepts are certainly still useful for biographical illustration of the meaning of the social and cultural context of changes for the individual. Nonetheless, they fail to provide navigation for the active and creative share. Due to the societal process of individualization, personal capacity is given more significance. This has been accompanied by the loss of meaning for the structurally and culturally organized rites of passage. Moreover, according to Coté, there is a tribal war of sorts raging among various identity strategies, such as gender, ethnicity, organization and profession, making an appearance on the individual’s horizon. Individuals have, besides the opportunity, a need to explore various sources of identity. This is the point where Coté introduces the notion of identity capital, namely a diversified portfolio of sorts, containing psychological skills that provide the individual with the opportunity to stand as an intelligent strategist at the helm of personal behavior. What calls for consideration is that neither the human nor the social and/or cultural capital serves to sufficiently regulate survival in society in late modernity. It is vital to learn to

60

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility

invest in identity, maintain and vary it, by way of continuous negotiation in the social and cultural fields, where other actors also operate. Concerned here are cognitive skills and personal traits not associated with the possession of cultural capital and certainly not taught in the public education system (Coté, 1996: 425). On this level, Coté is especially normative by using Riesman’s other directedness as behavioral orientation, which reinforces “making an impression,” narcissism and image consumption (Coté, 1996: 418). Consequently, as he states, consumerism, superficiality and apathy grow. This culminates in a major increase in the diff use identity status at the cost of achievement status (achieved or A-status) (see Erikson, 1983), in which endless reconsideration of made commitments can take on pathological forms (Coté and Levine, 2002). In contrast to this other-directness and pathological identity forming, Coté presents the tactics of self-direction and the use of “situational identities,” where stability and diversity are linked to each other. Therefore, the individual, in order to be able to adequately respond to the behavior of others, must be able to swiftly vary the fragments of his or her own identity: there is, as it were, a need to learn to invest in the “identity market.” The most essential capital that the individual can contribute is a stable sense of self. This sense is enclosed in social and technical skills in various areas, which include effective behavioral repertoires: psychosocial development towards more advanced levels and involvement in social, cultural, and professional networks (Coté, 1996: 226). “Capital”—an asset comprising tangible as well as intangible sources—is key. In addition, it can be utilized for career benefits and to create personal advantage and power (Coté & Levine, 2002: 143). The tangible and visible social features are related to the notions of economic, social and cultural capital of Bourdieu (Coté, 1997: 578). This last fact can convince the “gatekeepers.” The focus here is on visible personal characteristics that the individual already possesses and characteristics of a group that the individual strives to possess. The individual can also negotiate identities in order to make an impression on others. These characteristics can be used in the acquisition of roles and character formation, by way of the construction of diverse, situation-dependent, specific concepts of “self” and identity (Coté & Levine, 2002: 144). Addition traits of identity capital are intangible (Coté, 1996: 226; Coté & Levine, 2002: 145): ego-strength, self-efficiency, cognitive flexibility and an internal locus of control, a life goal and critical thinking. In short, these are capacities that make it possible to learn who we are, where we stand, what comprises and drives modern society, and to negotiate over whom we want to become and what needs to be done to reach that goal. Just as the tangible sources are fundamentally centered on the mastering of the social and cultural context, intangible sources are a universal individual quality by which one must—regardless of social-class background, gender or ethnicity—attain ego-strength and a sense of time-space continuity (Coté, 1996: 427). Despite his clear emphasis on individuality, Coté avoids the

Identity, Context and Agency 61 pitfall of voluntarism and focuses on the interaction between visible and invisible traits. In this way, contextual structures constantly determine and defi ne the boundaries of our options. Notwithstanding, throughout the vast scope of temporal and spatial variations, individuals must experience their own loyalty to their core selves (asserting namely, “this is me and no one else”). This is an absolute condition for ego-identity. Regardless of an individual’s status or place of residence, without this sensibility, adequate performance is beyond reach (Coté & Levine, 2002: 152). In order to substantiate this premise ontologically and to distance themselves from postmodernism, Coté & Levine make a distinction between the concepts of identity construction and identity formation. Identity construction is an open process, in which identity can absorb any content, as long as the individual is given the opportunity to satisfactorily draw on the environment to meet basic needs. Identity construction makes a great disparity of cultural identities feasible. Identity formation, on the other hand, based on the ego’s synthesizing, negotiating and performing potentials, is equivalent in every culture. In this framework, tangible and non-tangible traits always hold meaning. However, culture and society determine the input. What, in fact, Coté and Levine (2002) add to the concepts of identity and individualization is the suggestion of interactive development, where the individual can make a meaningful, organized contribution. Moreover, I am aware that in order to practically make the association to the social context, the identity capital concept must be theoretically founded on the agency concept as described by Giddens and illustrated in Willis’s research. It is only based on this foundation that I am able to combine the influences of “capitals” with the competencies of the developing individual. Individuals, based on social origin, can have social and cultural capital at their disposal. Still, without the competency for strategic investment and reinvestment in personal growth, these will in time yield little (unless the environment is prepared to continue to invest in the individual: see Lubrano, 2004). The reverse also applies: the fewer available sources there are for social and cultural capital, the more weight identity capital assumes to facilitate the realization of social and professional transitions. Also evident in these times of late modernity is the tendency for social and cultural capital to devaluate, arising from growing technocracy and the diff useness of social connections. This is yet another reason the notion of identity capital is gaining ground.

3.6

THEORETICAL GUIDELINES

The aim of this chapter is to construct a theoretical framework to provide insight into both the origin of the paradoxical relationships and the meanings of these relationships for the future career and unfolding course of life, described in the previous chapter. Identity is a key notion. I consider

62 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility the experience of paradoxical relations and the way they are dealt with, as specific manifestations of identity development, in the context of upward mobility. This theoretical framework must be equipped, on the one hand, to associate identity with both the broader structural framework and the local social context; on the other hand, it must be able to include the subjective mechanisms active in identity construction. This standpoint implies that, in the fi rst place, we perceive identity as a social construction, where society and individual interact, and not as an inherent organizational and navigation system exclusive to and within the subject. Classical pragmatic sociology is the source from where I adopt the idea of fundamental relationship between societal context and individual performance; consequent to this notion, the construction of identity can only be called an entirely social process. The notion of identity refers here to the ability of the individual to conform to the requirements of a social entity, namely a group, organization, or society itself, in order to become competent to act. Acting competence includes conformity as well as autonomy. In order to thematize this duality, pragmatism differentiates between the social (the “Me”) and the personal identity (the “I”) as components of the self-concept (the “self”). However, pragmatism poses a risk that the personal “I” is gradually reduced to the social “I,” and is thus positioned to develop into an effect and consequence of societal structuring. Classical Marxism coincides here with the notion of “class consciousness.” So as to avoid structural as well as individual reductionism, I refer to perspectives of meanings, from which the social reality can be studied. I appeal to Bourdieu to thematize the social and cultural context. Although Bourdieu cannot be entirely exonerated from structuralist connotations, I recognize his conceptual framework as adequate to operationalize the influence and meaning of the social and cultural context. The concepts of social and cultural capital are at issue here. He describes these as an “asset” of sorts, with which social positions can be acquired and previously acquired positions can be consolidated. Utilizing the notion of habitus, Bourdieu describes, down to the deepest physical and psychological layers, the connection to the societal conditions in which the individual lives. The difficulty with this view is that despite a profound connection to the milieu of origin, release from original societal conditions through individual initiative is possible, as illustrated in the previously chapter. In order to clarify how this is feasible, it is important to conceptualize the individual perspective. Therefore, I have called on the notion of agency as elaborated by Giddens. As described by Giddens regarding social practices, individuals are able to structure social reality, and subsequently social change is, to a certain extent, a product of agency or individual performance potential. Individuals within the social context are, to some measure, designers of their own social circumstances. I have turned to the social identity theory intending to discover the origin of the differentiation in this design and with it comprehend the prospect for social transformation from

Identity, Context and Agency 63 the perspective of the acting individual. With identification with a social group, the issue is not so much where the individual yearns to belong but instead the question of “who am I?” It is significant here that identification and social classification are closely interconnected and that the individual identifies with a self-created image about the values of a social group. The difficulty with the social identity theory is the character of social identity. Social identity is attached here to specific social groups and is, as such, “obtainable” for those of other groups. Van Wijk opposes this position by arguing that “connection” to social groups—by means of identification—is never complete, confl icting and at times negative. The notion of agency requires a dynamic identity concept and transcending of the contradistinction between personal and social identity. In Stuart Hall’s views I fi nd the theoretical foundation for a dynamic and layered identity concept. In the fi rst place, he links the notion of identity with both societal diversity and self-awareness: by presenting oneself as distinct, the feeling of belonging “somewhere” arises. Secondly, Hall describes identity as both layered and variable but also as a “temporary” point of respite, where the individual derives a sense of security to act. Lastly, as a basis for agency, he assumes an autonomous psychological mechanism as precondition to make interaction with the social context in any way possible. The individual is supposed inherently competent to respond to the context and does not need to acquire this competence through the context. As is evident in Chapter 2, the focus of this study is the social transition of competent and strategic acting subjects. In order to operationalize agency, I have looked to the views of Coté concerning the meaning of autonomous desires and the strengths of ego qualities, with the remark that these ego qualities are closely associated with Giddens’s notion of agency. These qualities can only be manifested (or materialized) in cultural forms. The question of whether these are psychologically or biologically determined is not relevant in this context, nor is the issue of how nature and nurture relate to one another. What, however, is significant is that it is individual dispositions and competencies that guide the concrete process of identity construction. The fundament of this interaction lies in the essential formation and construction of identity. Identity formation is a universal psychological process and refers to the synthesizing, negotiating and executing abilities of the subject. This identity formation can, however, also be realized in the individual by way of identity construction. Identity construction is the “objective” aspect of the process and is the result of a constant flow of discursive and interacting formative competencies within the context of the structural options and boundaries, through which the individual is connected to the context. This context provides a vast range of relevant identification categories: class, gender, and ethnicity, but also religion, culture, language, and specific meanings that belong to specific groups. The ability to cope with these is dependent on the competencies the subject possesses. These competencies

64 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility are the consequence of identity formation and construction. Coté sums these up as “identity capital.” Following Bourdieu’s footsteps, he thus clarifies that an individual needs “capital” so as to move upward socially. By employing sociological insights in this manner, I combine the notion of a layered and fragmented identity with that of agency. Moreover, agency does justice to structural, social and cultural antecedents as well as the meanings derived by the individual so as to give form to the course of life and career. In addition, individual qualities, personal effort and the vision regarding—and relationship with—the social and cultural context are important. This is the foundation upon which the empirical data from my research is presented in the following chapters.

4

A Firm Foundation

Families of respondents had a distinct manner of participating within their social and cultural context during the children’s formative years. On the one hand, these families were well integrated in their class. On the other, their ambition level set them apart. Though the height of ambition is undoubtedly a distinguishing factor, as the data shows, its expression is still conditioned by the social and cultural contexts in which these families functioned. Specifically, parents continued to be part of their class and this was manifested in childrearing practices, ideas about the future and communication patterns. In the fi rst section, I show how parental aspiration and the social and cultural context are related and describe how the meanings favorable for their children’s further studies were initially created. Yet, at the same time, my respondents are from “ordinary” working-class families, where the way of life and thinking and class-specific meanings regarding childrearing and children’s future are reflected. This question is treated in the second section. Due to the large amount of references to communication problems with parents as well as intensity articulated about the topic, the third section focuses on family communication practices and its meaning for the children’s further lives.

4.1

THE FAMILY’S SOCIAL POSITION

Material Circumstances Though the families were indeed poor, poverty was not asserted to be the focal point or a breaking point in the subjects’ lives. Major issues were instead parents’ lack of education or (in most cases) uncompleted education, and, in some cases, exceptional events that had left a mark on one or both parents. When the question of poverty was explicitly mentioned, it was usually in relation to parents’ past. Stories were told about pre-war situations in hopeless poverty, hard labor, and, strikingly often, failed businesses. In addition, situations were related where the father’s education had been abruptly cut off due

66 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility to grandparents dying young, bankruptcy, a grandfather’s unemployment, labor migration, a grandmother undergoing sexual abuse in the town where she had worked as a domestic, children born out of wedlock, alcoholism, forced labor during the war and later, and participation in military action in colonial Indonesia (14_7, 1_113). Grandparents were commonly small business owners or small farmers but also farm laborers or farmhands. There were but few industrial laborers. Regardless of the specifics, true poverty was attributed as being part of the parents’ youth: My father’s father ( . . . ) worked for the Dutch rails as a painter and my grandmother was a fish vender—an amazing feat because she had eight children to care for and had to wake up before dawn to rent her cart. She would then go to the fish auction to buy the fish; and after vending the whole day, she would return the cart and go back to her eight children with, after paying the costs of rent, the few quarters that were left. I believe that my father had a tough youth. (2_11)1 Still, being poor was not unfamiliar to respondents themselves. The costs of daily living as well as extra expenses were accompanied by inevitable pressure, not only of a material nature: My parents couldn’t afford schoolbooks. There was an allowance from a special fund provided by the municipality; you could pick up the books from them. The books were marked with an obvious municipal stamp. Moreover, we always got old prints so that we were usually the only ones in class searching to find the page being treated in class. It made us feel really at odds with the rest but we had no choice. (2_35–36) Scarcity in itself is not at issue here; it is instead the shame that comes along with being the recipient of official fi nancial support. Despite the love for parents and admiration for their resourcefulness in managing, it is especially the stigmatizing that calls on painful memories. Another aspect is the recollection of humiliation. One respondent’s mother was forced to clean houses because her father died when she was just seven: She cleaned a house of rich middleclass people. I kept a very clear image of the lady of the house—with her Hush Puppies shoes—watching my mother who lay on her knees polishing the parquet floor. I’ll never forget how humiliating it is to see your mother in that condition. (9_6) The daughter of a bus driver, who went on to study law, sums up the material position of her parents concisely; in my view, her comment is exemplary for the majority of my respondents:

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I knew we weren’t rich but we certainly didn’t live in poverty. (21_58) Though poverty may have been near and respondents were familiar with its implications, what stood out most in their memories was the sense of feeling stigmatized and humiliated. Financial concerns were certainly part of life but not a crucial to their sensitivity about their social position. What however was essential was parents’ level of ambition, which could be traced to their own missed chances for further education.

Parents’ Aspirations That parents of respondents considered themselves to be members of the civilized and upper echelon of the working class is substantiated in diverse ways. The main idea behind this construction is that they—and especially the mothers–had also been good students but had been deprived of the chance to start or complete a study. This fact was an important incentive for the children to further their studies: The implicit message was that we (the children) had to move on. Our father ended up where he did through fate—he always said so. He hated his job. “The stupid laborers,” was his implicit but plain message. “Whatever you choose to do, we’ll always be there to support you” was almost heartrending. That was his powerful and clear message. (20_72–73) Children were crucial to parents’ social advancement. The distance that they were unable to create in relationship to other members of their class could be achieved through their children by sending them to better schools and teaching them better manners. One of the respondents was acutely aware that the better elementary school that he had attended had more of a symbolic meaning than real extra value: My mother ( . . . ) did not send me to what was called the “wooden clog school” but to (another) school, just a bit further from home—a ten-minute walk instead of two minutes. In retrospect, it appears that all the children who attended were from simple backgrounds. But still, compared to our neighborhood school it was quite respectable. (2_12) The humiliating experience of a mother who has to scrub the floors of well-to-do tradesmen is in no way a constraint for teaching her children social graces. I grew up in a working-class neighborhood but just on the edge of the poor section. There was no misunderstanding of my mother’s message, based on her absolute standard, not to play with the children from that

68 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility neighborhood: you may be working class but you don’t associate with “their kind.” The people who lived there spoke only the local dialect and always looked shabby. My mother took care of our appearance as she did for her own. We were poor; our clothes were from a charity of our church but she made an effort to be sure we looked well cared for. The adults from the “other side” were crude, yelled and screamed, and spoke coarsely. Their children were dirty and had runny noses. So, within the working class there are also differences. In a nutshell, that’s what my mother taught me. (9_10) The image here is evocative: on the one hand, humiliation and dependence—combined with a large dose of creativity and veiling of their struggle. On the other hand, guidelines are set out which imply pride and elitism. Parents strive for a lifestyle that transcends the poverty, to reach (in their perspective) a level of the working class that is decent and not driven by poverty. The message from respondents can be summed up as the following: considering our parents’ intelligence and morality, they did not belong to the class where they ended up, socially and materially. Missed Educational Chances and Social Descent The father’s missed opportunity to study is a key family issue. It is spoken about, referred to and works as a learning experience mechanism. Still, the mother’s social position also plays an important role in an opposing manner, as it were. Whereas the fathers often originated from families that were working class or had experienced economic decline, most of the mothers were from families that had moved up socially. Jan Brands (1992) also makes reference to these mixed marriages, between a laborer and a woman from the “ascending” middle class. I encountered many such examples in my study. Hence, the father and mother had enjoyed some form of education, which in turn was of a major significance for their ambitions regarding their children’s education. In the cases where parents had had little to no education but maintained a high level of ambition for their children, the social success of the mother’s family was oftentimes called to attention. In some families, a mixed situation existed—for instance, an encouraging father with a terminated education and a mother with brothers on a track of upward social mobility. One respondent, a doctor, sees a clear relationship with his father’s missed chances and the support he was given: I think my father shouldered the feeling of having had missed opportunities, because of World War II. He wanted me to have every chance I got and seize it. ( . . . ) thus, I was stimulated to move up, be determined and have it better than he had, naturally a legitimate message. (10_7) At the same time, this father felt derided by his wife’s family:

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My mother’s brothers had succeeded in “moving up”: one was a civil servant with a supervisory function ( . . . ), one a teacher, and one a successful artist ( . . . ). They were originally poor, ( . . . ) but “cultured.” That made them “superior” and they let it show; there was something contemptuous about them and my father was sensitive to their attitude. (10_17) Particularly significant is that this social distance is expressed in terms of culture: in the eyes of the poor family, culture is synonymous with superiority and the cause of the sensed disdain. But culture simultaneously represents an “attainable” means for social mobility because education can facilitate its attainment. Encouraging the son to continue his education is, thus, not just a strategic move in the symbolic struggle with the in-laws but also serves the social mobility of the nuclear family. Motivating children to further their studies can also encompass many-layered meanings. A respondent whose parents were both from a middle-class background relates the story of his mother’s high school career in the thirties. Her education was not continued, for unknown reasons. It was significant, though, that this experience laid the foundation of her sons’ higher education, as the knowledge she had acquired in her school years was a big help to her sons. She could actively support her boys, who had a facility for learning, in their schoolwork: Her unfulfilled ambitions were the motivation behind the strong incentive she gave us to study hard. All the chores had to be done by hand, so she drilled us, while doing the wash in a washtub. That was an enormous task for my mother, though we didn’t realize it at the time. (13_13) But the price for this encouragement was paid by the oldest daughter, who met the same fate that her mother had twenty years earlier, when she went to work directly following her primary education: Due to her sacrifice, we boys had the chance to study. (13_9) It wasn’t always middle-class ambition behind the mother’s aspirations. During the 1930s, in certain working-class milieus, there was a genuine awareness of children’s abilities. Still, tragic events often made it impossible for them to develop their talent. My mother ( . . . ) completed primary school and one year of junior general secondary education. She was from a working-class family and was the oldest child, with an aptitude for learning, and a motivated student. When her mother died she was taken out of school to care for her brothers and sisters (told emotionally). That’s the way it was in those days. (14_8)

70 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility It wasn’t always only the mothers whose cultural aspirations were rooted in their “better” beginnings. A respondent who had become a company director ascribes his strong sense of ambition to the manner in which his father (a baker in a bread factory) experienced and conveyed his farm background. Farmers have land and culture, which places them above the laborers—so seems the message: My father was always proud of his farming background. A lot of farmers felt somewhat at a disadvantage ( . . . ) but he always behaved gentleman-farmer-like, as if he were a product of that category. He always talked about the amount of land that they’d owned and shares in the Russian rails, lost in 1917. ( . . . ) So he always felt like “someone,” more than a common carpenter or mason. (15_29–30) Family Stories All the respondents are among the first generation to have completed a university study. As far as is known, no one else in the family even started a university study. Therefore, there was no one in the immediate surroundings to serve as role model or a stimulus for such an undertaking. Nonetheless, I recorded stories about predecessors, including aunts and uncles, who could be credited with providing the family with a higher esteem; these forebears thus functioned as a source of inspiration for the prospects of later generations. Uncles and aunts from Catholic families who had entered a cloister or seminary provided an aura of intellectualism, with the added advantage that intellectual abilities of children were better recognized: It’s a fact in our family that a talent for learning was valued. Three of my father’s sisters became nuns and they all received a higher education: two teachers and a nurse. And my grandmother ( . . . ) well, the story was that she was a remarkably good student. She had ten children so had to be at home ( . . . ). The consistent message was, however, “We’re all good students.” And my father also accepted the message as apparent. (28_29–31) In another case, an uncle who had already joined the seminary as a member was the direct source for one respondent’s entrance into preparatory seminary. Such an uncle enabled the family to achieve a higher status in the Catholic community. Moreover, there was a symbolic meaning attached to the uncle’s position: I had an uncle who was a priest; he was clever and likeable. (18_10) Still another respondent descended from a Friesian great-grandmother of nobility, who by way of marriage plunged in social status. The tales of this

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ancestor’s conduct and adventures not only fueled the family narratives, her cultural influence continued to apply in the approach to this respondent’s upbringing. This was atypical for the times and for a working-class family. But of even greater importance than origin, in itself, were the traces of cultural tradition that this daughter of nobility had left for her progeny of generations to come. The respondent’s mother had received valuable knowledge from her grandmother about food preparation and hygiene (not widespread in those times and circumstances). And of special significance was that the family communicated with one another. This was actually still pretty out of the ordinary at the end of the fifties. We could talk about anything. The three of us were just as involved in the dinner table talks as our parents. They were always interested in what we had to say and always stimulated us to further our studies. (5_21–22) There is more here at hand than unusual childrearing practices and a nonstandard communication pattern. Key, instead, is the mythical meaning and effect of the narrative. This myth clarifies where the intelligence and accompanying progressivity comes from and has enabled, as it were, an innate bond with a higher class. Continued education was the natural following step. The same applied to the clergy in the family as tangible evidence that family potential could, in fact, be fulfi lled. The Local Social-Cultural Context It was namely the smaller rural towns where it appeared that social differentiation was blurred and of no real significance for children’s study preferences. One respondent depicts the local community that gave him a fi rm push in the direction of university study and his current job. This occurred with a detour by way of a Catholic seminary. He is currently a labor union secretary, where social confl ict determines his professional mind-set. But he begins with the story of his youth, immersed in the Catholic lifestyle, which he depicts as a self-evident unifier of family, school, and local community. The picture he relays is one of a sociable community, where the local social context, family culture and individual performance seemed to complement each other in perfect harmony. This is undoubtedly an example of an interpretation in hindsight. Nonetheless, the importance of community involvement surfaces in what is conveyed: It all fit so well together: a proud laborer for a father; a hardworking and encouraging mother; a diverse neighborhood; four bright kids, attending college; community organization involvement; and an allencompassing, enthusiastic Catholic atmosphere. The pastor was a frequent visitor and my mother could tell him with pride how well we were all doing. (13_15)

72 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility It was particularly ties with leaders of the religious community that appear to be of essential meaning, and for working-class families—even religious ones—this proved to be a common problem. Despite this, the contact provided parents from a middle-class background an implicit advantage: parents could recover from their social descent and the father could attach a special meaning to his life as laborer. The community does not necessarily have to be defi ned as “local.” One respondent emphasized the importance of his extended family, namely grandparents and aunts and uncles from both sides, who were central to the self-evidence of his pursuit of a university education. Beside his mother’s encouragement, he refers to his vibrant “family culture”: In our extended family ( . . . ), I was the eldest grandson on my mother’s side; on my father’s, I was one of scores. At family occasions, they always called me “the professor” just because I was in a college prep program; I was thus the fi rst in my family to go to college. And I had cousins by the dozens, about forty or fifty! (14_25–27) The local community was not always a positive force. It could be a source of mixed messages or even negativity. One respondent’s family felt superior and clearly turned away from their neighbors in their own working-class neighborhood. The grounds were the father’s musical ability and the mother’s middle-class origins. If we mixed with the local community then it was with certain arrogance. To put it somewhat cynically, being the “musician’s family” (his father was the conductor of the local brass band) for that matter made us better than the rest. This self-importance consequently led to resentment among our neighbors. ( . . . ) My father was a kind man; he even taught music to the local children but we were part of the working-class culture and didn’t choose to be. As a child I wasn’t conscious of this but my mother, especially, looked down on the “proletarians.” (20_91) In another instance, it was the community that did the backing away. For one respondent, after initially being supportive, the neighbors and the local trade union chapter did a turnaround: After completing my primary education, I went to high school and my parents were proud; I was the only one in my community that would get “somewhere”( . . . ) But when I went to college I gradually became “the student” and had moved to the “other side” (in the eyes of my old friends). As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make them understand that I was still who I had been. But their resentment stung. “You’re a student now and don’t need to work; we have to work for you, while you stay in bed

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as long as long as you like and waste your time going to classes; you’re just a freeloader and don’t belong here anymore.” (17_47–49) There are two striking messages illustrated by the citation above. First is the anti-intellectualism packed in the rejection. Second is the expression of the tolerated limits of social mobility. This limit is set at high school graduation, and the message is twofold: it is acceptable to move up socially but there has to be lasting familiarity. The moment that the student crossed the line and chose to be an intellectual, this recognition vanished. After all, intellectuals do not work and are therefore parasites. Even though equating intellectualism with idleness can be understood here in relationship to the central meaning of manual labor in working-class culture, a question of jealously certainly seems apparent. And especially in a small-town setting, this was not an extraordinary phenomenon. Six of us from our little town did the college preparatory program, in high school. ( . . . ) There were townswomen that told my mother that it was better for me not go to college because I’d have to study too hard. (3_22) Even though stories involving community relationships of this kind were not unusual (and not limited to small towns) and though many respondents learned to deal with these incidents, their impact can not be underestimated. The jealousy and competitive remarks burdened both parents and children with a defensive attitude to protect themselves from attacks from the “inner circle.” Thus, the sense of being an outsider was further reinforced. An urban environment provided ample opportunities to rise above the traditional cultural status of the working class. One respondent’s mother came into direct contact with “high” culture through her job as usher in the city theater. This not only provided for “bread on the table”; the new ideas that she was exposed to at work implemented a real change at home. My mother would come home with so many stories about the artists that she’d met. ( . . . ) I’d often go with her; it’s even possible there was no other choice because she didn’t have a sitter. I would play under the bar and was allowed to sit on the stairs and watch the performance. This was a valuable experience. (4_38)

In Conclusion A number of specific conditions in the family and local context proved favorable for educational ambitions and opportunities for the children. Education history, social decline, family myths, references to successful family members, a job in the cultural field, and successful—or unsuccessful—integration in the local community were incorporated in childrearing

74 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility practices and translated into messages for the children. At the same time, these families, despite their atypical aspiration are in fact a part of the working-class community. These parents thus lived and thought like laborers, were imbedded in the culture that was manifested in daily life as well as their children’s upbringing. Though the aims they held for their children were special, they still were in opposition to their traditional lifestyle and the ideas and values that went along with it. It is therefore also essential to understand what the children were exposed to daily, as far as ideas and experiences and their everyday points of reference.

4.2

PRACTICES AND CULTURE IN CHILDREARING

In this section I aim to discover what the meaning is of the totality of the practices of childrearing and the values that have played a role. In my respondents’ perception the meaning of an education was a crucial and key value in their families. In retrospect, this value paid off: all of the respondents identified with these to the extent that they completed an education, with the highest possible social status. However, what applies to these individuals does not apply under all circumstances. Neither others in the nuclear family nor other family members have completed such an education. This raises questions concerning other factors present in these individuals’ upbringing, related to incentive for further study and at the same time to the issue of the deficiencies in the very same rearing. After all, achieving social status was not a self-evident accomplishment; to the contrary. I have therefore looked to both explicit and implicit meanings of family childrearing practices. What, in the eyes of my respondents, did their parents do and say, and what did they convey as role models? From which point of view and in what ways did they offer encouragement for their children’s further studies? And fi nally, how did meaningful others play a part?

Paradox-filled Childrearing Practices The reaction to the question about the atmosphere at home was predominantly positive. Respondents primarily remembered a happy youth, oftentimes in a harmonious family, but there were also stories of arguments, tension and divorce. The general suggestion is that parents refrained from an overt display of caring and devotion. These qualities were instead manifested with a relatively strict and conservative approach to parenting. Most respondents gratefully recalled their parents’ merits; others harbored feelings about an upbringing fi lled with paradoxes, with appreciation for the support provided but also an acute awareness of the inadequacy of the support. The comment from a physician below sums up this paradoxical situation:

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Basically, I believe we had a good youth; my father was ( . . . ) rather stubborn. He always had to have things his way but in his heart he was a truly good man and socially minded. He was, though, really strict and the fact that I was able to cut loose as a girl was really unusual. I think it was hard for him as well as for my mother because she was especially conservative. (26_56–57) It appears further that cutting loose from this conservative framework had consequences for the mother’s communication with her grown daughter. Not everyone struggled with this problem and especially men view their parents’ approach to upbringing quite “objectively,” which is described as a combination of love, fi rmness and freedom: They were good people but could be inflexible and righteous, which resulted in conflict, especially if I felt unfairly treated. But that was seldom. I don’t recall them being unreasonably strict and think I had a good deal of freedom. Reading was seen as a virtue. Of course there wasn’t much else to do. (4_48) The picture that surfaces from the interview data deviates perceptibly from the actual situation. When relating their own parenting style, the majority of the respondents say their approach is in total opposition to that of their parents. They view parenting as a calling, which requires a special effort. Their own upbringing was traditional but to say that it was no more than a matter of routine would be an inaccurate depiction. There was an apparent and intensive interaction with the parents that was more focused on rules of behavior than on those regarding childrearing. Parents were especially occupied with work, either in household chores or as wage earners. And in many cases, the children too had to contribute. Children were obliged to discover much on their own and parents sometimes lacked the skills to conceal their daily worries. Their moods and problems frequently determined the atmosphere at home. In regard to the question of ideas and plans for the future, these were often rigid, conventional and class-associated. Nonetheless, the accounts of parents’ behavior and what they tolerated tell a different story. A Structured and Harmonious Life? Considering the context in which childrearing occurred, the fact that children received little guidance sometimes meant more benefits than drawbacks. One respondent, a sociologist, delves deeper into the strict and traditional character of his upbringing and shows that it had two sides: a well-organized life, strictly regulated, but with ample room and freedom for exploration. Strictness, hierarchy, and freedom, according to good Catholic tradition, appear to fit seamlessly together:

76 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility It was in effect a very orderly life. You went to school, played soccer and played a lot with friends. I lived in a small town so we had plenty of space. Just a two-minute walk and you were out of your parents’ sight. ( . . . ) There was farmland and fields to play ball and outdoor games. For a kid, it was a pretty ideal situation. Of course we went to church because we had to prepare for the Eucharist. It was all very authoritarian and hierarch(ic)al and we did what was expected of us. (3_6) The following respondent’s situation illustrates a less flawless fit: I remember being a pretty easy child. I was not disobedient and didn’t cross the line. I loved to play but took my schoolwork seriously in elementary school. (3_17–18) In other words, he didn’t make things difficult for his parents, who had a disharmonious marriage. Almost none of those interviewed caused problems of any significance for their parents. Others were empathetic with their parents to the extent that they took over parental responsibility. One man spoke of the liberating effect that he experienced though his wanderings in nature. During my primary school years, I would often bring my friends to the shallows, where my father was a sheep herder. We played there, among other spots, in the sheep pen. It was a fantastic time; there were wide gullies where we could fish. ( . . . ) I believe this taught me independence. There were rules at home and you understood them but within the rules there was lots of freedom. (23_8–9) A respondent whose parents had totally opposing backgrounds (the mother coming from socialist, non-religious circles and the father from a traditional Catholic family) sounded almost elated when relaying her recollection of her home life. She only realized how exceptional it was during her pedagogical history study. It was only with the passing of time that I realized how extraordinary it was that things at home were so harmonious. My parents had come from such different backgrounds. That must have had its impact in our upbringing. If I think about how their childhoods must have been, then it’s pretty amazing that they got along so well. (5_19) Striking about this story is that the parents apparently managed well and that this success, in the context of the daughter’s pedagogical study, was analyzed as out of the ordinary and unexpected in a working-class milieu. Whether this should be credited to conscious and intentional parenting behavior, along the lines of the previously mentioned ancestral member of

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nobility, is inconclusive at this point. However, it is significant to highlight that communication was a key ingredient in the harmonious (and considering the times) uncommon formula expressed in the citation above. Father and Mother: Allies or Competitors? From a traditional standpoint, the mother’s key role in the childrearing process is evident. This applies to working-class families as well, or even predominantly in them. The mother’s position is frequently described as dominant, while the father is often depicted as an absent figure. An image evoked from my data further shows the father as being taken less than seriously at home. His lower-class origin (or his “not-too-bright” family of origin) was at times a source of tension and conflict. There were cases where illness or on-thejob accidents had had an impact. In the majority of stories, the family home was depicted as a “women’s household” (the maternal grandmother was also a consistent presence), pushing the father behind the scenes. And, thus, an overall picture of a strong mother was conveyed, namely one who got her family through hard times. Alongside this representation was the father— not always unambiguously—attempting to exercise authority and setting the formal limits. Despite the fact that the father was not always taken seriously, when it came to the rules, his authority was called on. Still, it was the mother who bore obvious responsibility for the childrearing task. Consequently, on the topic of parenting and in view of their fathers, respondents seem to assume their mothers’ perspective of the father: someone who is tolerated, has a say, but at the same time, and above all, is someone not really there. In regard to family relationships, the citation below is especially telling and the message, that no resentment towards parents is harbored, is noteworthy: My father ( . . . ) felt easily wronged but he had his principles. My mother, to the contrary, had the tendency to keep problems under wraps, for the sake of control and peace in the family ( . . . ). It had to have had something to do with our Catholicism ( . . . ). My father was always ready to moralize: he had his standards. ( . . . ) When I broke the rules, my mother always said, “Just don’t get caught and be sure the neighbors don’t fi nd out.” (10_18–19) This son had long before decided that it was time to put his father’s Calvinist principles behind him. The father, who had had to convert to Catholicism to marry the mother, was emotionally laden by the struggle with the Catholic family for social positioning. The father had had to concede on almost all fronts to a mother who was well versed in communicative manipulation, resulting in exclusion, confl ict, and undermining his position as a father and his sense of manhood. The housing shortage in the Netherlands of the fi fties and the sixties may have had an influence on the inferior position of fathers at the time:

78

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility After spending ten years at my grandmother’s house, we finally had a home of our own. (. . .) At a certain point, after my grandfather’s death, my grandmother came to live with us. It’s fair to say I had two mothers running the household during my entire youth (. . .). I was away from home as much as possible and rarely invited friends over. (16_7–10)

The father’s response to the female dominance was absence: My father escaped to his aviary, which he kept in our yard. It was his safe haven while the women ran the household. (16_26–28) The consequences were the following: Except for sporadic severe reprimands, he never got involved with my upbringing. He didn’t bother to explain: once he even hit me but otherwise he would get very angry, screaming “this is your punishment and that’s it.” My mother was milder and secretly softened the consequences. (16_29) The classic picture of the stern father versus the gentle mother only appears in some cases. In daily practice this type of father was absent and the woman managed the day-to-day affairs. Images of the Children’s Future Although many respondents were confronted with clichés of the time, such as “knowing one’s place” or the importance of “behaving according to one’s position,” the research data was in this respect somewhat ambiguous. On the one hand, these represent the importance of messages conveyed during respondents’ formative years but there were also others communicating the opposite. The consequence was a paradoxical achievement ethic: I was brought up with, on the one hand, explicit but especially (unspoken) pressure to achieve and at the same time with the message that considering where I’d come from, I better not “set my sights too high.” This was a source of real uncertainty. Also communicated without words, was that I should strive to be the best but not to walk over the other (something else to fi ll me with self-doubt). Regardless, I was duty-bound to achieve and it was up to me to seize the chances I’d been given. (10_10) It was especially the girls who had been fed mixed messages. Striking is how this continued to disturb them even into adulthood. One woman with a PhD in surgery relays the following about her mother:

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Especially perplexing is that she would have preferred that her daughters ( . . . ) had married construction workers because that would have “been useful”; these were her actual words. She felt that then at least we’d have someone for the handyman’s chores at home. This visualization reflects the mother’s interpretation and understanding of her daughters’ future after furthering their studies. Another respondent, also with a PhD, working as a lecturer in a university for applied sciences only started her studies at a later phase of life. 2 Her mother’s ideas had certainly had an influence: Studying was not a common occurrence in our family and so I didn’t study. Above all, my mother had definite ideas: “Girls get married anyway, so it’s a waste of money to invest in a study.” (1_3) But the message was, however, communicated in a series of mixed messages, illustrated by the following: That was one aspect. The other was that my mother was actually pretty ambitious. She made sure I’d do a college prep program in high school ( . . . ), but further study was a waste of money. I went to work as a secretary and did other minor jobs ( . . . ). It was expected that I’d fi nd a husband and be taken care of without having to work myself. (1_4) Ambition was thus stimulated but at the same time limited with value judgments and environment-specific conceptions about what was in reality a better future for girls. Another respondent, an ophthalmologist, explains how her father envisioned the future for his academically inclined daughter and especially how this had initially influenced what she perceived as her options: I thought about becoming a surgical assistant or a lab or radiology technician. My father could just picture me following the internal training at the hospital in a student house with my own car, etc., at the nearby hospital. (26_27) A pharmaceutical researcher tells a similar story about his father: My father always told me to choose the kind of profession, where I wouldn’t get dirty hands. That was his ideal. He had permanent black grooves etched in his skin. ( . . . ) His idea of the perfect job was a lab assistant with a white jacket and clean hands. So, I already knew in primary school that I would go to high school so I could go on to be a lab assistant. (2_58)

80 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Noteworthy about the stories of the ophthalmologist and the pharmacologist is how they both extrapolate their parents’ career ambitions to a higher educational level. Still, both took their parents serious enough to start out at the point that complied with their initial wishes. Male respondents experienced that the conceptions in regard to their sisters’ futures were different than those about their own. I have described earlier how the oldest sister in a family was expected to work to pay for the additional costs associated with her brothers’ educations. This had been hurtful but her feelings at the time had not been a consideration: It’s a sensitive issue and she still brings it up now and then but we just took it for granted at the time and never thought twice about her sacrifice. (13_9) A respondent who had become a philosopher told a comparable story. Every child could continue his or her schooling after primary school but the study type was considered insignificant for the girls; this led to dissatisfaction: My mother wanted the boys to enter a pre-university high school program after primary school, which they did but not the girls—the expectation was that they would not pursue higher learning, as was the custom. They entered domestic practice training.3 My oldest sister was angry about this and later received her degree at a university for applied sciences through various continuing education programs. (6_19) There are numerous indications that these impressions in regard to children’s future education reflect the parents’ need—despite their children’s intellectual abilities—for their children to remain recognizable. In other words, they figuratively transmit to children “not to drift too far” in pursuit of their niche in life or end up in risky or uncertain circumstances. Therefore, the father whose daughter has fi nished a high school honors program longs to see his daughter fi nally teach in the same program.4 Another respondent, a professor, comments in this regard with the following words: My father was disappointed when I decided to study chemistry. I should have studied law. He had a good friend, who was a lawyer. (27_24) There is no reason to assume that the father knew more about the legal profession than a chemist’s. A lawyer may have more public status but relevant here is comparative proximity. The interviews show that the ideas about the children’s future were dynamic and concrete but not devoid of stereotypes and negative generalizations concerning the quality of life. A pharmacologist relays:

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My father liked to say ( . . . ) life consisted of just three things: working, eating and sleeping, that’s all there is . . . very fatalistic. It’s true; he worked awfully hard and if I say “that’s all there is to life” and “it is what it is,” I believe I say it without his defeatism. (2_128–130) Though this son has been able to transform the import of this message into a practicable personal philosophy, the significance of the father’s attitude towards life and ensuing expectations had to be transcended. This was not the only father who burdened his children with unproductive messages concerning life. A sociologist speaks about the valuable ambition and encouragement received from his mother but adds the following about his father: My father actually disapproved of my entering a pre-university high school program: ( . . . ). “No child of mine can go to college; I’m just a bricklayer,” he’d say, based on archaic class consciousness. “I come from this class and that’s where you’ll stay,” was part of his thinking, but it didn’t make the slightest impression. The son’s claim that he wasn’t affected by his father’s words is contradicted by his account that illustrates that he had to put these ideas behind him strongly. Another respondent has the opposite, and at the same time questionable, experience. In the family he comes from further learning was no problem whatsoever—at least for the boys: Higher education was not even a topic of discussion in our home; it was completely self-evident. My parents had an unwavering trust that all would turn out well. The attitude that it wasn’t for us was nonexistent. (6_37) But the self-evidence and trust that it was the right thing to do was veiled in a mixed message, because the parents placed all responsibility for successfully completing higher education on the children. Their intelligence was used to legitimatize this attitude. This appears to exemplify an intricate version of a parental mechanism: “We never had the opportunities that you’ve got, despite our abilities.” A pretext might lie behind this interpretation of the social reality: personal frustration mixed with aggression. This respondent spoke of a type of family lethargy: There was a sort of laziness common to our family. We thought we were brilliant so didn’t see the need to put in an effort. The thinking was along the lines of, everything will turn out well but if it doesn’t (then) so what? Learning words by heart for example was really hard for me, which I associate with my father’s philosophy. Namely, at the end of his life, he painted as a hobby in the weekends and evenings.

82 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility He actually had the idea that he was some kind of misunderstood Van Gogh. He never actually said it but it sure seemed like it, while he never went to the trouble to take any art classes. It had to be effortless. He always thought, “It’s in me.” (6_41) In the meanwhile the son had experienced other families’ communication culture and realized what was lacking in his own: This may be a psychological way of looking at it but if you talk about class origin, I believe that in certain classes it’s customary to communicate to the children: “OK, come on, make an effort and do the work.” This was a foreign concept in our family. I don’t know if this can be attributed to my parents’ mind-set or if it was just plain laziness on their part. (6_43) The question of whether lethargy or psychology is the foundation of the mentioned attitude is not at issue in my view. It is, however, essential to conclude that the notion of intelligence can be counterproductive and in a certain context even lead to passivity—that is, in families where mixed messages are communicated: My mother always told me to “know your place” and “not get any big ideas.” As an adult, I understand that it’s worth the trouble to defy this advice but on the other hand—and this is something I only realized later—. . . it’s surely not easy to try to “get somewhere.” I have the confidence that I’ve succeeded in my quest but at the same time there is still a voice within telling me to “know my place.” And this has held me back. (6_45) Significant in this narrative is that this respondent could only reflect, and therefore put the message into perspective, as an adult. But the metaphors he uses strikingly illustrate the specific effectiveness of the conflict concealed within. Although he transcended the message’s impact, it nonetheless had an effect. Besides the hostility and role his father plays of the superior aggrieved, there was also condemnation: it is the others who disregard our achievements and intelligence; we are beyond reproach. The stories told by respondents reflect numerous variations regarding relationships with and perceptions about persons from other classes. These convey animosity as well as aversion, but there are also those that reflect critical respect. Because at a certain point this interviewee became aware of the mechanism described above and thus left his original milieu, he did reasonably well. He, however, also told the story of his oldest brother, a great but failed talent: My oldest brother has a brilliant facility for languages. He speaks fi fteen fluently but he never got a degree and is stuck in a dead-end office job. He never pursued his hobbies or interests. I think this has everything to do with the subject of your research. (6_22 –24)

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This interviewee sees his parents’ hostility and misplaced sense of disgruntled superiority that determined their view of the “others” reflected in the behavior of yet another brother concerning the repayment of a study loan: For reasons of principle he was determined to stay under the minimum income limit required to pay back the loan. Even an offer for a permanent job could not move him to accept the job because it would force him to exceed this limit ( . . . ). I don’t see why you shouldn’t you pay back your government loan. I understand that well-educated people serve the common good but there are boundaries to government responsibility. I settle my debts so I can move on, though. (6_103) This citation not only reveals indignation and aversion but deep emotion. The emotional overtone is perceptible by the interviewee’s raised voice when telling he had confl icts about it. These were apparently necessary to fi nally put the bitter underdog story, learned at home, behind him. Here he touches on the core of the issue’s personal significance, namely breaking away from the alleged self-infl icted dependency but under the pretense of having performed an act of resistance that is presented as a virtue. My respondents’ need to put their parents’ attitudes behind them implies that these have had an enormous impact. These attitudes might be explicit and effective and therefore frustrate their children’s chances to pursue a study following high school. This applied especially to female respondents. In the case of the previously cited respondent, we can establish that parents’ thinking resurfaced in a shifted form, in adulthood, when it wasn’t explicitly dealt with and put to rest. But patterns and roles also had to be left behind: some of the interviewees have vivid memories of the difficult relationship between parents and the father’s limitations as an identification figure. Therefore, problematizing and “letting go of the past” appear to be essential in order to actualize the “promises” associated with a university study. After all, asserting conservative ideas and opinions took place in a context of childrearing, where children were encouraged to develop their talents. This encouragement thus became formalistic in nature and was therefore separated from aim and content. The children were expected to elevate themselves in life but since parents had little understanding of how this worked in practice, they created their own image of what was appropriate for “our kind.”

4.3 THE COMMUNICATIVE PRACTICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES I defi ne communicative practice as the discursive scope, in which the confrontation concerning personal, social, cultural and political topics take place. At issue here is the question of which topics can (or cannot) be discussed, how are they introduced (or avoided) and who has (or demands) the fi nal say. And by posing the question as to what is not discussed, we also encounter the subject of hidden agendas and mixed messages.

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The Communicative Atmosphere Communication: The Missing Factor During the developmental phase when having a “good talk” with parents is of major importance for a healthy psychological development, according to existing pedagogical discourse, meaningful communication is simply not customary at home: From the age of fourteen, fifteen, you simply never spoke with parents. It just wasn’t done. It did happen later, but it didn’t go very deep. (14_50) With the exception of one or two interviewees, the import of this comment applies to all. I explicitly asked all participants about communication during their formative years, as the literature study had shown that communication was a complicated issue. Everyone spoke of one form or another of communication breakdown. In addition, it was perceptible that no one could speak about the topic impassively. It consistently triggered an emotional response and even though there was resignation in some form or other, undivided acceptance was absent. The understanding of the majority of respondents was expressed with arguments such as the following: “it was typical for the times we grew up in”; “it wasn’t easy for them either”; and “they couldn’t meet our expectations because their poor education hadn’t equipped them with the language.” But still–Respondents’ succinctness in expressing their feelings in the citations above implies that both parents and children were responsible for the non-communication referred to. At the current phase of their lives, there is no longer an expectation of insightful talks, and when the need was there, the communication pattern had not been inadequately developed to do so. The majority only later realized what they had missed at the time; still, their feelings of loyalty were intact. Despite loyalty to parents and justification of their behavior, some of the interviewed were unambiguously troubled by this aspect; no one was indifferent to the fact that the more meaningful topics remained unshared. This is clearly revealed in the accentuated denial in the citations above and rooted in the context in which these statements were made. The following citation is another typical illustration of the absence of both partners in communication and topics of common interest, combined with understanding, loyalty and justification. In the fi rst instance this male respondent told he could communicate well with his mother. After all, he had reported at an earlier point that his mother’s side of the family was gifted with intellectual capabilities. Thus the contrast with his inability to carry on a meaningful conversation with his father—who he loved and respected—at the very moment he wanted to share his world of interests with him was obviously painful:

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I was in my forties when I had ( . . . ) taken my parents on a trip to Italy . . . we were sitting on a sidewalk cafe having a beer. I was very ill at ease and reproached myself for feeling that way because on the other hand I was happy that I had done it. I slapped my father on the back as if to affectionately say, “So, Dad, here we are,” but I couldn’t think of a word to say to him. (20_210) Drifting Apart Besides the comments from the interviews above, there was also explicit testimony to helplessness, anger and rejection. One son reports that his mother only accepted his father’s authority on religious grounds and he therefore could only fulfill his wish to enter a pre-university program after intense fighting between parents was settled, followed with a ruling by the father. The consequences for the family communication were disastrous: The man stands above the woman, so she conceded, albeit resentfully. Consequently, during my five years of high school, she never once enquired about my progress at school: no interest whatsoever. If I were even to mention something about school off hand, she would respond, “it’s just a lot of nonsense . . . modern uselessness.” (7_33) This was not only an expression of disinterest but also an active rejection of the son’s wish for responsive parents. He therefore looked elsewhere for a sounding board. Striking is that the son connected the communicative style at home with his mother’s social decline. Moreover, his mother did not fail to refrain from blaming the father for her drop in status and made use of her beliefs to veil her inability to make independent decisions. This situation is an extreme illustration of what the parents underwent when the son continued his schooling. He thus entered a world that was no longer theirs, a foreign world, where the language was strange and therefore alien. Another participant had experienced the opportunity to communicate about his incentive and interests, only not with own his family. His friendship with a classmate brought him in contact with another kind of verbal culture: I was in a college-prep high school program that also offered Greek and Latin, together with a friend. That was the beginning of the consequences of landing in a different kind of environment. It was impossible to talk about school subjects at home. They just didn’t understand . . . nor (try) to, for that matter. As long as I got good grades all was okay with them. In my friend’s family, it was just the opposite. They’d discuss what we’d done in school in depth. They also drilled us on our homework. That was the fi rst rift (with my family) also from their side. They’d let me go my own way and didn’t check my coming and goings.

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The experience of parents’ exclusive interest in the form was bitter. Approval was dependent on grades but what the grades represented was a foreign concept. This lack of communication with parents and having had the experience (at his friends’) that it was different in other families had affected the son’s personality. For example, he avoided asking for money for school activities: If I asked for money they gave it to me. That’s why I had to carefully think about what I asked for ( . . . ) I realized this at an early stage. Other families had more; it was natural for their kids to join any activity. My reaction was the result of the responsibility I voluntarily took upon myself so that I wouldn’t put them in a position where they had no choice. (16_23) Although this form of parentification has little in common with the mechanism occurring in problematic families (Ghesquière, 1993: 82) we still see the existence of guilt and separation, especially because the parents have no awareness of the consequences of this parentification. This went on during the entire time and caused more and more of a divide between our two separate life worlds. If they felt I’d allowed myself too much freedom, I was rewarded with harsh punishment: no one spoke and I was grounded. The fi rst time I was with a girl, for example, and they found out, I was grounded for a week and they refused to even talk about it. (16_24) Resultant from the previous incidents, from that time on this individual’s emotional and intellectual development became a nonissue at home. And though he had found a home away from home where he felt he could be himself, the memory of the broken-down communication lingers as a gap and a defi ciency. It is typical that he recalls the communication style at home as a form of lecturing. Even though his frame of reference obtained from the other family members has helped him to interpret this one-way communication as problematic and to disassociate himself from it, it has not left him untouched. And in later years this still resonates as self-reproach: I’ve thought in retrospect that I may have hurt them; maybe I should have been more communicative with them despite never getting anything in return. Still, maybe it was up to me to have done more to try to talk to them. (16_36)

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Protecting parents is common too to other respondents’ stories. One woman said she had biked to school in order not to create extra costs with public transport. In addition, the circumstances at home also created the necessity for her to carry much of the burden for her siblings’ upbringing. But this was not noticed or recognized. To the contrary, on her fi fteenth birthday her mother reprimanded her, saying, “Who do you think you are? You act like some kind of director!” What she didn’t realize is that my actions had everything to do with the responsibility that she had given me. I was accustomed to dealing with my brothers’ and sisters’ teachers and fi nding solutions on their behalf ( . . . ). My mother’s anger about my taking control—I believe— had to do with a realization that, in a certain sense, I had passed her by. On the one hand she stimulated this behavior and on the other she sabotaged it. (24_41)

Authority and Communication Loss of Authority and Its Response There is a pattern to parents’ fear of being surpassed intellectually and verbally by their children. One respondent stayed home longer simply to shield her parents from the grief of yet another child leaving, following her older sister’s defi nite decision to live on her own. She related her parents’ response to shifting power relationships within the family as a consequence of their daughters’ studies: My oldest sister broke every rule there was and I was the obedient one. (19_79) This woman had had compassion and consideration resulting from her sharp perception as to what her parents were going through: It’s like this: you radically leave your parents behind, intellectually. This was defi nitely the case with my sister and we saw it happening. Without batting an eye, she would tell my father that he didn’t know what he was talking about. When children are verbally superior and parents can no longer exercise authority, it’s painful. Mine never tried to force us do to anything. When all is said and done, as parents they were tolerant. Of course their intellectual weakness played a role. (19_30) Here this respondent relates parents’ powerlessness to communicate to the intellectual schism created by the study and the ensuing loss of authority and respect.

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Another respondent, in later years, during her career as an ophthalmologist, remained troubled by her mother’s unasked questions. She described the lack of communication as a system in which both her parents and she were participants. She became aware of this phenomenon due to certain experiences, and in retrospect: At a certain point, when I was looking into further studies, I went to an open day for medicine. I saw a girl there with her mother, who I stood next to while we browsed though textbooks, and I remember thinking: here I am on my own, looking at books and there is no one to share this with, except for telling everyone when I get home what a good time I had. I ( . . . ) didn’t even question why they weren’t there with me; I didn’t ask them to go with me and they didn’t offer. I think I just went. It wasn’t in the system to do otherwise. (26_28–29) In addition to loneliness and a feeling of being abandoned by parents at critical moments, the communication and conversation gap also triggered confl ict and reproach in an atmosphere of tension, inevitably leading nowhere. The same woman tells how she found the understanding she was looking for, in her boyfriend’s home: My boyfriend’s father, on the contrary, showed interest in what I was doing, asked questions about cataract surgery and asked how I felt about my experiences. And he really meant it. (26_67–68) Another respondent, a philosopher, recalls experiencing the communication he encountered at his then future in-laws’ as nothing less than shocking: She comes from Limburg (the south of the Netherlands) and if we visited her parents’ home for one or two days (following a long trip), all her siblings would be spread over the kitchen, living room and other rooms and all they did was talk—hours at a time—talk, talk, talk. I didn’t know what to think; I was flabbergasted. Talking: in our home? It was unthinkable. If a conversation stated to take off, my father would say, “Okay, different subject.” We weren’t allowed to discuss anything with any content. If my mother said she had met someone in the grocery store—that was gossiping. An atmosphere of anti-communication was the norm. This is what I was taught from the get-go: don’t converse! This especially applied to talking about others but also about problems; after all, whose business is it anyway? Incredible but true! The only thing that counted was the family, a closed entity. (6_103) Here the father plays a central role with his passive and hostile outlook towards the world. We can thus interpret this insistence on non-communication as a logical consequence of this attitude. Even if this seems to

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be an extreme illustration of a normative concealment of the inability to communicate, there are parallels to be made with other respondents. Even with the father’s unawareness of this mechanism, his “anti attitude” was a compensation for his loss of authority and respect due to his children’s verbal skills resultant from their better education. In fact, traces of a wide variety of mild to extreme compensation behavior come to light in the majority of the interviews. This is the outcome of real or imagined loss of authority, or, as some respondents assume, the consequence of missed educational opportunity. Argument, Not Discussion, Is the Norm In Chapter 2, I wrote that in order to move in higher circles, it is necessary to be outfitted with a polemic attitude and an operational style focused on presentation. It is a question of diplomacy, verbal astuteness and a sense for detecting underlying signals and hidden agendas. And according to Brands, for some, this is part of the culture learned from home (Brands, 1992). His data repeatedly show that upbringing and communication practices have insufficiently prepared respondents for this subtle game of communication and the accompanying necessity for self-presentation. It seems to me that, within families, a preliminary condition that at least should be aimed for is the appearance that the opportunity to be in involved and participate in consultation exists. Moreover, even an outward show of these qualities is consequential as this is the manner in which children learn to unmask conventions, for instance, and maneuver through social systems. But as we have seen, there was little discussion in our respondents’ families in the sense of sharing emotions and exchanging points of views. A respondent who had brought up the topic of study choice told of the following experience: My mother thought I was reaching too high and this constantly ended in argument. My younger sister attended domestic practice training and my older sister attended the MULO.5 Argument was common among the children and the inevitable reproach at mealtime was, “You think you know everything just because you do better at school.” (31_17) Conversation evolved into argument, ending in antagonism; subsequently parents would become involved, fi nally putting the children in their place. Parental ultimatum was exercised, when thought necessary, thus squelching all argument for the time being. Children in other families were familiar with parental disputes and power struggles, fought openly, from which they suffered. Even were children more often than not responsible for settling the question of the direction of their own studies, and even while relieving their parents of the task, drawing attention to themselves was understood to be unacceptable under any circumstances:

90 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I always heard from my mother as well as my father, “Okay, son, come back down to earth and don’t think you’re so special.” This started when I was in a pre-university program in high school and felt pretty proud of myself. If I boasted at all about it, it was immediately stifled. “You’re not so great. First prove you can do it.” (15_34) Argumentation, discussion and verbal ability were punished. The overriding picture is that meaningful talks with parents were far from selfevident. And if they did occur they were of little signifi cance. Moreover, efforts to fi nd meaning oftentimes escalated into contention, which parents ended with force. Still, respondents felt that powerlessness lay behind parents’ behavior. A politician had the following to say about his father: It was already clear to me in high school that disappointment about his own achievements was projected onto his children’s success—a form of jealously: not really hard to understand. My father was a simple man—the sixth boy in his family—and I can’t hold it against him. That’s just the way he was and it makes sense if you work six days a week, (work) your guts out, and it’s not respected by the white collars (as he called them). I can imagine that now and then he projected his frustration on me, but it wasn’t so bad that it had any real effect. (14_90) This interviewee’s accomplishment as a good student obtained its meaning due to the power relationship at his father’s job. For the father there is a correlation between “white collars” and power as well as a lack of respect he felt subjected to. The fact that the son could put his father’s feelings in perspective is undoubtedly related to the aff ection he feels for his parents. The son is thoroughly aware that his father implicitly identifies him as belonging to the white-collar class, which reinforces the rift. Positional Communication Besides power relationships at work, parents’ perception of the position of their children’s future profession was another factor influencing communication. A school principal recounted that although her parents were delighted with her opportunity for a college education, they at the same time revealed that their daughter was surpassing them: They would ask me for advice ( . . . ), and then they had problems with my little brother. I’ve told my husband that it felt like I was no longer their daughter but their social worker. They put me on a pedestal of sorts and I felt like I was no longer really part of the family. I felt like that for a long time. (32_40)

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Just as the earlier-cited respondents, this woman too relates her parents’ attitude to their lack of power. It is nonetheless painful to realize that the communication is determined by her professional position. Still, an opposite mechanism can also apply. An ophthalmologist recalls how her mother claimed her as “mother’s most important” daughter in a difficult family situation: my mother claims me ( . . . ) I am her daughter. Once I was just back from the U.S. for a convention and she calls at 6 a.m. that there’s something wrong with my father. We rushed to their house and my brother wasn’t there; that surprised me and she says, “I’ll call him later. I didn’t want to wake them up.” What about us? This was so hurtful! I told her that she shouldn’t do this and she says, “But you’re my daughter.” I was incredibly angry. (26–10) The following is her answer to my question of whether her mother boasted that her daughter was a doctor, a response that came after a moment of hesitation: No, not really showing off. In a way, she’s proud of what I do but at the same time she makes it very clear that I shouldn’t think too highly of myself. It’s actually happened that when a topic about medicine came up, I indicated I had some more knowledge. I was met with the reaction that I shouldn’t think I was better than they were. (26_72) The common factor in the previous responses is parents’ incapability to distinguish between who their daughter is and what she does, in other words between persona and position. In the one situation, the daughter’s position is taken advantage of and in the other the meaning is denied. Both instances, however, demonstrate that the position is the key issue and that the daughter experiences a feeling of abandonment. Communication and Professional Identity Respondents indicate that that their father and mother’s lack of influence is easier to accept as a given than to accept it as communication deficiency. The latter is often felt as a loss of affection and intimacy. This appears to be connected to experiences, in this area, in the full-communication environment, which they had since been exposed to. One respondent says it plainly: If I had never left their world, I would never have known what I was missing. But because you are exposed to another world, you see things differently. You can talk about and articulate it. (26_131) It can be distilled from the context that this other world not only provides room for exchange about feelings and ideas in day-to-day living but in the

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workplace as well. In addition, the manner in which professional identity is shaped played a key role. Striking is that all the physicians I interviewed— raised in a non-communicative environment—stressed the importance they attached to communication with their patients. Therefore, it could be expected that those interviewees who felt communication to be of less professional importance (those in the exact sciences, for example) would experience poor communication with parents as less of a problem. It is obvious that graduates of the exact science fields can discuss family communication more “objectively.” An engineer reported not having had experienced any friction with his parents as a consequence of his career and study. No, I never had those feelings, though I can imagine that these feelings could come up if a parent never had the chance to study and is resentful about it. Our parents never begrudged us our opportunities. (11_46) It is marked that although relaying that friction was not part of home experience, the narrative cited above still expresses the assumption that any possible friction could well be related to parents’ dissatisfaction with their own missed opportunities. The example of the German teacher who recounts the “normal” verbal disputes about his parents about long hair, girlfriends, and living together before marriage is in clear connection to the above. His mother did everything in her power to avoid confl ict and thus they “talked” (as he put it). Whether this talking, however, led to the habit of meaningful conversation between the parents was not mentioned. It is nonetheless apparent that both son and parents tackled thorny topics with policy and a matterof-fact approach. My mother ( . . . ) wanted to avoid a schism. They could’ve chosen to be inflexible but my mother—and my father too actually—tried to be in touch with the times. They heard the same stories from other parents with kids the same age. Marriage was a topic of discussion and was a lot less popular. ( . . . ) And they saw for themselves that living together worked without leading to destructive situations. And, not to forget, even the minister’s son lived together with his girlfriend. (12_52–53) In this respondent’s perception, a combination of an open perspective with modernity and sensitivity for authority results in a sort of matter-of-fact mind-set for adequately dealing with the challenge of children’s maturing. His pragmatic approach eliminates a need to problematize the communication of his adolescent years. The same down-to-earth outlook is evident in the manner in which he performs his job teaching high school, in a pre-university program. Here he advocates for children from minorities alongside his union job as advisory board representative.

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Communicating about Feelings and Intimacy The above-cited engineer responded to my question of whether he came from a warm family by saying he was unable to answer: We lacked nothing, but the relationships among us were not always close. None of us talk much (. . .) You noticed that things were kept from us or only brought up after the fact. On the one hand there were no major conflicts but still some things were not openly discussed; nothing went below the surface. There was security but not real intimacy. (11_46) The meaning of warmth here is not only a safe environment but above all an active open attitude towards one another. Warmth is created when “things (that matter) are shared.” In fact, most interviewees responded hesitantly or negatively to the question in regard to warmth in the parental home. Another respondent reacted cautiously and then answered decidedly regarding the question concerning warmth in the parental home: No, there was warmth in the sense that I could always go to my parents if I needed a shoulder to cry on but at the same time no one ever asked how I felt. There was always someone to listen but no one who asked how I was managing. In that sense it was more superficial. (26_66) This respondent, the previously mentioned ophthalmologist, makes a distinction between parents’ availability and “being seen” by parents as you are. The latter is the basis of authentic family warmth. If I were to apply this criterion to all the families of origin of my research participants, than few families would qualify. The mood in most families was determined to a high degree by the demands associated with social and material survival. Excluding classic childrearing practices, there was little time for special attention for the children. Neither understanding of the extenuating circumstances nor the different approach to childrearing at the time serves to alleviate the pain felt from the lack of attention and interest. Especially daughters could suffer as a consequence. The formative years of a daughter of small shopkeepers, currently an orthopedic surgeon, were entirely dominated by hard work in order to survive. Her parents’ apparent indifference to her study and career has been a source of frustration. She relates this incapacity–especially on the part of her mother—to ask the right questions, with a past as a farm laborer’s daughter. The mother worked as a servant for farmers. What she’s never gotten over is the subservience she learned by working for rich farmers. She’s just submissive. (31_101–102) At the same time the daughter implies that the manner in which her parents perceived her life is derived from the situation illustrated above.

94 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility In other words, they approached their daughter with a reserve similar to that she had exercised with the rich farmers. Intimacy is not part of the system. Male respondents too missed intimacy at home. One respondent spoke of the enthusiastic conversations in his childhood home but added a footnote: emotions weren’t the main topic but there were stories—lots of stories. It was quiet at other people’s dinner tables but at ours we went on and on. We could go on for forty-five minutes, even after dinner was done. And everyone was into it. We were always asking each other for another story; no one cared that we’d heard it a hundred times before. We thought it was fun. (22_51) Emotional communication and intimacy at home was often substituted clumsily with bullying and clichés. One respondent had struggled with his sexuality from the time he was eleven. As an adolescent he was close to desperation as he sought answers through homo- and heterosexual encounters, pornography and attempts to discover his real feelings. At one point he was teased about having a crush on a girl for whom he had no special feelings: It had to do with the circles I come from and how my family related to each other: the endless mixed messages, my parents’ inability to deal comfortably with emotions—positive or negative, to guide me through my sexual development and talk about it as if it were a normal part of life. It ended up in an emotional stagnation of sorts, until I turned twenty-five. (10_28–29) A situation where fear of sexuality and intimacy results in silence and masking should be familiar, in a broad sense, to the great majority of this interviewee’s contemporaries, regardless of social background. Moreover, the complexity of this particular instance of psychosexual development is undoubtedly related to his predisposition and at the same time reinforced by a lack of adequate and practical childrearing guidelines. The “social” problem was, in effect, the vessel in which the cultural deprivation was enveloped and the attitude contained. These conditions were anything but conducive during the adolescence of a sensitive and intelligent individual so that he might refl ect on what he was undergoing. An ambiguous developmental process (that is, a particularly formal intellectual attitude without an adequate emotional foundation) was the consequence of parents’ communication style, one that inadvertently frustrated emotional development while simultaneously stimulating children to move up socially.

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CONCLUSION: NO AFFINITY FOR COMMUNICATION

In retrospect, we can see that the foundation for a career in the higher social classes consisted of a complex sum of the four following factors: 1) the view driven by a central notion that “despite our intelligence we were not provided with the opportunities”; 2) incentive originating from dubious milieu-associated notions about the future; 3) encouragement through childrearing and communication practices where the mother “in reality” dominated over the father’s “formal” authority, resulting in 4) a power struggle, implicit or explicit or both, between parents, incapable of an adequate response for children who had landed in another world. All respondents were instilled with the unquestionable message that they had enough intelligence for upward mobility; then again, it was also communicated that they did not belong in the higher social strata or led to believe that it was an objectionable environment. Fostered by negative experiences and populist class analyses, this dismissal transformed encouragement for further study into a formal message devoid of content. In other words, what was acceptable or unacceptable was determined by what was familiar and known; children overstepping these established boundaries presented stereotypical images of the “other class” and this had an impact on the communication with their own children. Estrangement was the outcome. Despite the fact that these experiences have been shared by the majority of respondents, there is no resentment held and an understanding of the parents’ position is affi rmed. Still, there are those who, despite understanding and forgiveness, have suffered considerably because personal development has provided a changed perspective. This is particularly the case in those adult family situations and professions where respondents uphold themselves through dialogue, idea exchange and impressions, inquiry, listening and responding to each other’s implicit and explicit messages. This wealth of communicative resources was not only absent and unfamiliar at home— even in the event of a narrative tradition—but elicited fear and resistance. It belonged to a different world and was virtually impossible to compete with. Parents were only capable of maintaining influence through authoritarian means in response to the culture of communication where discussion was key. This new manner of expression had found its way into the parental home through assertive and verbally competent children. But the difficulty encompassed more than missing the acquired vocabulary and attitude to demonstrate interest and emotion. Even more crucial was the incapability for parents to grasp or exercise the richness of the many-faceted, intuitive, subtle forms of communication. This has proven to be a handicap for the children in later years and particularly challenging in professions and careers where optimal presentation and genuine assimilation demands proficiency and ability to fi nesse of the “rules” of communication.

5

A Successful Transformation

In this chapter, I examine how the foundation laid in the families of my respondents’ youth was transformed, by way of a secondary and university education, into the starting point of a career. That this process was a difficult one needs no further explanation. Above all, it took place in a crucial phase of these individuals’ lives.

5.1

HIGH SCHOOL YEARS1

A Path of Persuasion The road to university was a project permeated with the power of persuasion. Despite the fact that the respondents’ scholastic achievements were good to excellent, consideration of a university study was unlikely or even nonexistent. The obvious option, as far as the parents were concerned, was vocational training, or specifically, in the case of girls, domestic practice training aimed at promoting proficiency of traditional household skills, such as cooking and sewing. Others went to MULO or MAVO.2 But despite these parental expectations, most respondents achieved the highest attainable education possible. A limited group did follow a lower level of schooling and only later compensated for what they had missed, through second-chance educational programs, and went on to university. Despite good primary school results, the main challenge had been to convince parents to support the pursuit of further education. Parental support was rarely self-evident due to the fact that it concerned unknown terrain: My parents were very eager for me to study; they said they thought it was a fantastic chance: “Stay in school, go as far as you can.” But the moment I fi nished primary school, they were at a loss and had the feeling that I was better than they were. (32_38) Still, it was not only parents who felt they were entering uncharted waters. Even though this step was the accomplishment of a deep and usually

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unspoken longing for most of the children, it was nonetheless not an automatic one. The transition to high school and the severance it signified was so far-reaching that one of the respondents had to repeat a year due to his “immaturity.” At least that is what he was told. Still, he reported that this had given him the breathing room and time to catch up on his lagging language skills: Looking back, I was way behind and so much less aware of so many things. My language usage was much less sophisticated. In fact, I spoke a heavy dialect and therefore hardly uttered a word during the fi rst years of high school. Finally I learned to speak in a refi ned manner with more or less neutral intonation, though my original accent can probably still be detected. (2_18) Catching up with language skills was an acknowledged consequence of further education but at the same time the fi rst concrete and tangible step towards alienation and isolation resulting in painful situations: What I especially regretted is that the moment that I began to speak proper Dutch, my connection to my working-class environment was cut off. And what was especially painful was that my parents could no longer help me . . . filling out a form for school, for instance. I was eleven or twelve years old and I could no longer depend on parents for filling in forms. I was endlessly worrying about how to deal with this. From my early years on, I worried about how to take care of problems on my own. (2_33) Despite his worrying, this respondent did not feel abandoned by his parents. They had other qualities. Especially during periods of crisis his mother’s attitude was crucial for his perseverance to continue his education. Perseverance proved to be the feature that afforded him the insight to realize that he could achieve more than a position as lab technician—his father’s aspiration for him.

Tangible Parental Support This atmosphere of parental supportiveness was at times very perceptible. There were mothers who sent their children to a better school, and most parents checked that homework had been done. Even without understanding the content, they had their own methods of lending support: They weren’t equipped to actually help with homework but if we were stuck then they would sit with us and say, “OK, just try to explain.” That was, of course, a struggle because there was nobody close by (including family and friends) that could really help out. ( . . . ) In the end you were on your own. (5_45)

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Even though parents’ support could not completely eliminate the sense of isolation and loneliness, memories of the (somewhat awkward) attempts at real help remain. One respondent relays the story of a dilemma encountered by her mother: My mother had very little money when I entered the college preparatory program; we had to purchase textbooks ( . . . ). My teeth weren’t straight so I also needed braces and I had to choose between school and the orthodontist. My mother came up with the solution to take on another cleaning client. I consider myself lucky; my girlfriend’s father said she had to work Saturdays to earn extra money. My mother really rose to the occasion! (9_17) We see this attitude of excusing children from the responsibility of work in various families. At the same time there are other families—such as that of the above-mentioned girlfriend—where still another challenge arises, so that an even greater effort is needed to pursue goals. The mother above was prepared to make a sacrifice but not without certain expectations in return. If children were free from side jobs, this meant that the time saved was to be dedicated to study. The message was clear: no pain, no gain. It takes exertion to achieve. This was often accompanied by a message as regards childrearing: My parents always—and that includes primary as well as secondary school—stimulated us to push ourselves to our limits. This method (driving like that) is no longer fashionable but my parents made it clear that there was nothing the matter with driving. The cost of doing the most demanding pre-university program was high—just the study aspects wore me out. (19_18) Not only pushing to the limits but also swimming against the current: When I told my uncle, who was my biological father’s brother, that I was going to enter one of the most demanding pre-university programs, his response was the following: “it’s necessary in life at times to swim against the current and now is the time for you to do so.” I was very impressed by his words. Everyone went to work in my circles and it was considered absurd to go to college, and still he felt he had to tell me this. What I was doing was already in opposition of the norm and it was anything but easy. (9_25) The fact that both messages—the need to swim against the current and to work hard—were effective is revealed by both this historian and lawyer. But in my view these women’s mothers would not have been able to maintain this encouragement if the daughters had not constantly acknowledged

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it. The majority of the respondents were very aware of the message that hard work was crucial in order to get ahead in life. The limit to this support was obvious when things went wrong, and most accounts included a share of negative experiences. Several respondents had to repeat a year of high school and parents’ attitudes were crucial at this point. It was a precarious situation for students because if parents did not support this measure, they could forget about it altogether. Due to weak grades one respondent was not permitted to advance to his senior year. The consequences were dramatic as this meant the end of public funding for school. He had neglected his schoolwork for serious involvement with extracurricular table tennis. With vivid detail he relates the dilemma he was confronted with as a seventeen-year-old and his feeling about how he had no one to rely on to solve the problem but himself: I was frightened and distressed; my security to sustain myself was at risk, thinking “if I give up school now, what else can I do?” I had no marketable skills, my school program suited me and I was genuinely interested in what I was learning. (. . .) It had become, at least in part, my world. (. . .) What alternative was there? In the best case, I could get an office job; in any case I’d have to work. It was an existential shock and it raised questions about self-respect. And then there were the practical problems: Can I still make use of the special book fund? (17_16–17) Therefore, this was more than a simple question of a series of failed subjects that could be rectified by repeating a year. The fi nal outcome was doing the year again and part-time jobs to cover study costs and secondhand textbooks. The story of this man’s brother, however, demonstrates how his could have taken a very different turn: One of my younger brothers was in a university prep program for three years before he quit. He had a few old friends that were fi xing up a boat together evenings and weekends. When they’d ask him to help along and he’d answer at fi rst that he had homework to do, they’d discourage him by saying he was better off with them, and he fi nally gave in. I think his familiarity and feeling of belonging with their world won in the end over his unfamiliarity with the world of school. (17_14) This respondent implicitly sketches the circumstances surrounding the dilemma that children from working-class families are up against: study versus work. If your study doesn’t work out, you can always get a job. But that was not always the way it worked. Concerning the aforementioned respondent, his studies had genuine meaning and the crisis he experienced made it clear that “getting a job” was no longer an option. For him, there was no way back. From his point of view, his brother had more of an aptitude for handcraft than for study, making the choice to quit school easier.

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The respondent’s analysis of his brother is less significant than what he implies about himself: even though his working-class environment might allow him different choices, based on instinct he had no other option but to persevere. However, a clear-cut model for putting inner drive into practice had not been offered by either parents or environment.

Meaningful Others There is no interview without a reference to one or more people who had been of key importance for both the commencement and continuation of further studies, and who, at the same time, were essential for acquisition of the competencies necessary for the study. In most cases these were individuals with genuine interest, who were struck by the potential of the respondents in their youth. These individuals had either exercised a stimulating role or helped develop the talent, or both. In some cases this incentive was provided by teachers, who through enthusiasm and expertise served as role models. In addition, as we have seen, the motivation could also have been triggered by other families, where respondents found the elements of warmth and communication that were lacking at home. All these people were important identification figures and played a more or less intensive role in the growing self-confidence necessary for further education. And there were also those who had apparently, in the context of the narratives, been unaware of the roles they had played, but who had been meaningful in the respondents’ moving towards further study. Teachers and Professors Good educators have a sense for children’s talent and provide support by way of additional lessons and extra study material, and also by assigning the talented ones the task of helping other children. But the approach and the words used are essential: I had a really good teacher in elementary school. He was an older man and he helped me enormously. He gave me books; he let me help schoolmates, and when I left elementary school, he called me to him and said: “You’ll be a doctor one day.” I guess he saw it in me. (31_10) This respondent never forgot the message, and even though the route she took to fi nally achieve her goal was indirect (and without question tied to her background), she fi nally became a surgeon. Unmistakable in her case, as well as that of other respondents, is a keen awareness of the role of the others. We will return to this topic later on but significant here is that being noticed by the others generated both self-confidence and self-esteem. The essential meaning of the other can also be found on a tangible level. The school principal visited the home of one respondent in order to notify

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the father what was expected from him in regard to his son’s studies. The inevitably of the message is salient: And then the principal came to our house to announce that I was to go to a college preparatory program. He said it would be a terrible waste if we didn’t give it a chance; he was convinced I could handle it. And, yes, that was not easy for my parents to digest because they had no idea how to relate to the situation. (17_9) The parents protested with practical and fi nancial objections. But the principal rejoined knowledgeably with facts about provisions the local Protestant high school had for students from low-income families: He said, don’t forget (. . .) and I’ll just say it one more time, if you say no you’ll regret the rest of your lives that you didn’t give the boy child the chance. After such an argument, they were powerless to refuse. (17_9) That even less subtleness than in the case above could still be effective is demonstrated by the following story from another respondent about several teachers in a college prep program. The incident took place at the moment—in the words of the narrator—that the influx of the “repressed” classes started, when apparently certain teachers were not particularly enthusiastic about the situation. The didactic approach of the physics teacher resulted in positive reactions despite his behavior, which was anything but student-friendly. I remember exactly what happened: ( . . . ) He called someone to the blackboard, who was totally incapable of performing the task. He then pointed to and asked me some questions saying, “with you I can do business.” That gave me a huge kick. I remember the feeling. I had him for three years and having lessons from him was a huge incentive. ( . . . ) He was a really tall guy and when class was over he walked to the door and kicked it open. (3_55–56) The unorthodox bravado of this teacher must have felt familiar and was thus recognizable for working-class children; due to the inherent positive reinforcement accompanying the style, it had had an especially motivational effect. This story illustrates that there were always one or more teachers who were active in these schools and recognized something in these children. In their own crude manner they had lent their support. Other teachers were more considered in their approach and some even went to great lengths to help these children catch up, especially in regard to lagging language skills: My Dutch teacher took it upon himself to help a student who spoke with a heavy dialect ( . . . ) and he tutored me for three months in his home.

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility (He did this on his own accord and never asked for a cent in return.) His reward was that I would speak dialect-free Dutch. At a certain point he said, “OK, now we’re done. You’re doing fine.” (17_9–12)

This teacher’s attitude could not have been any further removed from the authoritarian approach of the physics teacher but both teachers were acutely aware of the situation at hand and both took their students seriously from a principle of respect. And this in itself was new for these students. In addition, almost all participants speak of teachers who were able to convey their love for a subject, whether it was literature, the German language, history, chemistry—oftentimes the exact sciences—but also awareness of social and political issues. The importance of encouraging others did not come to an end after secondary school. One respondent recounts a story of his medical school days involving a professor of surgery with a reputation as a bully. The young medical student, however, saw him as an accomplished professional. He regularly acted as a mediator during conflicts between colleague interns and the professor. The professor had incidentally promised him a job, and, despite the doubts of the other students, he reported for work to the secretary: I walked in and told her, “I recently spoke to the professor–” but before I could continue, she said I was expected, pointed to a coat for me to put on and told me to report immediately to the professor, saying, “He’ll arrange the rest with you.” I was stunned and I thought: I’ve got him figured out, I see what he’s doing and he’s someone I admire too! ( . . . ) and up till this day, I still can’t believe that I got into this specialization this way. Because surgery’s an area within the field with an old-boys’-network mentality. It’s almost unthinkable that nowadays something like this could happen. (17_74) As he tells it, it is crucial that a prominent faculty member recognizes and appreciates your qualities and invites you to enter into their superior academic world—otherwise access is excluded. The case above is likely the description of a successful co-optation story, where the aspirant–besides deploying diplomatic skills—was able to accurately appraise the prevailing customs of this other world. There was also a question of a certain measure of affinity at play: as a son of the working class, he was better equipped to pay no heed to the significance of a written promise. Besides, he could have faith in the shared value of honoring one’s word. Still, he was convinced that despite the role his active diplomacy had played, without the professor’s recognition he never would have had a career in surgery. Different Cultures of Living There were two cases where respondents fi rst became acquainted with an atmosphere of open communication in the families of friends, from which

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they learned. One of these, a psychologist, was able to experience a culture that could not have differed more than the one in his own home; its appeal was enormous: There was so much more challenge—intellectually—and that was the key to its appeal. It was in that period that I’d already begun to value their choices above those of my parents—at least about culture. It was more challenging as well as novel: it was fi rst exposure to jazz, for example. But popular music and rock were also stimulat(ing). That was pretty exceptional in that time, anyway. (16_11–13) The conformation with other cultures could also take place within peer groups. One of the respondents went with friends into the city and became part of the popular music scene frequented by students and intellectuals, which not only was inspirational but had an egalitarian effect: My friendships were mostly from outside my class and even for the most part outside of school—thinking back, those were all kids from working-class families. Also, in the weekend I spent my time with them. ( . . . ) music (and) youth culture were all part of it. I loved rock music: Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, that was my genre and I dressed the part, just like it’s done today. ( . . . ) it made no difference which class you came from in that subculture. This involvement continued into the university, where a crucial break with the working-class culture took place. This was especially perceptible in the culture of “going out” and music: The working-class kids went out in a different venue (. . .) it had an entirely different atmosphere. (. . .) There was a real beer-drinking culture there and they spoke dialect. I didn’t feel comfortable there at all. (12_55) Popular music provided this son of the working class a model for identification with the intellectual class and at the same time a means to distinguish himself from the working-class youth and his origin. Music and youth culture also served as the means for another respondent, a politician, to set in motion the unambiguous division between him and his working-class friends: I guess you could say in a certain sense I lived a double life. After summer vacation I reverted to speaking dialect, and after three or weeks this was somewhat back to where it had been before because there were others from the middle class in high school. ( . . . ) But I still felt drawn to the kids from the better circles, those also looking for alternatives back in the sixties: sex, drugs, rock and roll. That’s where I belonged: on the one hand, I was a Zundapp guy; on the other, a Puch guy. 3

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Meaningful Events A college lecturer in a university for applied sciences took real advantage of her opportunity for second-chance education when an acquaintance just happened to say the words she needed to hear at that point in time: It was winter and my kids had been sick. I found myself in the routine of bringing and getting them from school—part of the mother role. It got to the point that I was so sick of hearing nothing but stories about mumps and measles. And then a friend just happened to say, “But you can just pick up a study.” This was such a critical moment. I would never have thought of it myself. (1_44) A court staff lawyer, who had studied law by way of second-chance education, had become familiar with legal procedures and lawyers during a case against her husband’s business partner: (This prompted) my volunteer work for refugees and I got into legal advocacy for asylum seekers. I got a lot of positive response from the lawyers who I dealt with. One of them ( . . . ) recognized my qualities, although I hadn’t. I was very unsure of my capabilities for a law study. I really looked up to university graduates. But I wanted to give it an attempt. I had nothing to lose by trying. (24_37–38) Following a career as the “wife of,” adult education programs and volunteer work, a critical event was needed to reach the destination of university. In this case too there were others necessary to bluntly say what was needed, to trigger action when the individual in question didn’t even dare to think it was possible. Nonetheless, there are also negative recollections. At issue here are teachers who were insensitive to the special circumstances surrounding these students or teachers who were simply unprofessional. The following is a respondent’s recount of an intrusive priest who, during a home visit, started to examine her understanding of Latin: He asked me to translate the Latin word for “obedience,” which I knew. And his answer was, “Yes, that’s what matters most. (. . .) When he was done he slammed the book shut with his comment about obeying, gave me an angry look and suddenly left. I thought he was telling me that it was inappropriate for a girl from my background to study Latin. It was perfectly clear to me; he was, after all, a rather arrogant priest, who spoke affectedly. On the one hand, I was humiliated, and on the other I was furious, and that feeling of anger toward the Catholic Church has never left. The masses had to be kept ignorant, and my mother was pretty much

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a typical example. The way my parents were treated was always painful. It’s resulted in a feeling of conflicting loyalties. (28_68–69) It was not only the priest’s arrogant warning that touched a sensitive chord but, even more so, his reproach aimed at the parents for what he saw as their irresponsible decision to send her to the college preparatory program. She was particularly distressed at their defenselessness to respond. Her study was her exit strategy from vulnerability and this incident demonstrated for her the first time that there were things she could not share with her parents.

The Seminary and Teacher Training College We have seen that religion—including its institutional form—can be a powerful incentive for higher education (see Chapter 2). Up until the 1950s and 1960s—and preceding secularization in the Netherlands—the Catholic seminary provided a privileged route for children from working-class and farm families to obtain societal status by way of the priesthood. For children from Protestant families a degree from a teacher’s college in elementary school education fulfilled a similar function. This route was less far-reaching, since leaving home to stay in a boarding school was not necessary. The drawback of an elementary education degree, however, was that only limited fields of specialization were offered. The seminary was moreover the highest form of pre-university education (including Greek and Latin studies) and provided a broader choice of subjects to prepare for further studies. The following narrative from a respondent is an exemplary illustration of conditions for poor bright children in the 1950s: One day we were visited by—I think it’s fair to call him—a “calling hunter.” (. . .) These so-called calling hunters would ask the Catholic village pastors who the students were with the capacity to study Greek and Latin. They would lure the students to go to school by offering them free education in return. And so I ended up in a school like that. (. . .) It was in fact a missionary seminary. (. . .) There were missionaries always talking about missions. And so we actually got quite a worldwide education, even before it was fashionable. We even had a museum at school (. . .) with spears, knives and tools and all kinds of objects from a primitive tribe. We also were shown photos and film material. (25_7) Even though this case is an illustration of the practice of organizational interest, it resulted in further education for many young men. It moreover taught them a more sophisticated perspective. Inspired by admiration for an uncle in the seminary, another respondent entered the seminary to study following his completing a preliminary seminary. He describes the atmosphere as outstandingly boring:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I thought it was dull after I’d been there a while. You never went out or did anything; we were treated like princes in a hopeless, hole-in-thewall town. ( . . . ) If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it and it was taken care of for you. You could just sit there the yearround thinking about your life and everything else. I was bored beyond belief and started to wonder, “Is this what I really want?” (18_19)

Despite the boredom, a seminary education provided advantages such as those related to the topic of a sophisticated intercultural perspective, a concept treated earlier, albeit in a different context. In today’s context this concept calls for a new defi nition. Regardless, there were genuine and optimistic future expectations associated with the acquisition of a higher status. Moreover you were taught disciplined study habits, which have allowed respondents to reap a lifetime of benefits: I feel I’ve had many opportunities from the seminary. Those opportunities, combined with a lot of hard work, have given me what I now have. Those chances—I sometimes call them a golden ticket—are the clue. Without them, hard work gets you nowhere. There has to be the hard work, though, the kind of hard work that comes from enormous perseverance and ability to focus. (18_38) Considering that this respondent always worked exceptionally hard, allowances should be made for the expression “golden ticket.” He makes an earlier reference to his hard work, using the metaphor of a train ready to depart in the direction of upward social mobility: you acquire status and the gains that go along with it, but you work alone in tedious solitude: When I came home for my summer vacation, I got the best room and I was pampered the whole vacation. Still, I was all alone because my old classmates—the ones I still saw—were in vocational school, and when they had time for other things I hardly went along. During the long vacations I was pretty much left to myself. How I kept myself busy, I don’t even remember, but everyone must have thought I was something special: “He’s going to be a priest. Now that is really something!” (18_13) The contrast with the position granted at home and the daily monotony, the boredom, and the spiritual lectures as the framework for discipline and hard work had not only left its mark in the respondent’s memories of the period. It had also influenced his behavior as a student and as a professional. In order to get anywhere, according to the message, hard and disciplined effort combined with frustration, monotony and boredom were the unavoidable, inevitable costs that must be paid in order to ride the train.

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So Far If the route that led to a university education was not self-evident, then brains alone were not enough to get to that point. The right circumstances and adequate support had to be at hand. This support had to be offered in the fi rst place by parents, making it critical and at the same time dubious. After all, parents were reluctant to hand their children over to a world unfamiliar to them. Although certainly eager for their children to have every opportunity to study and improve their lives, they still would have preferred the circumstances to be controllable and recognizable. It was not only study at issue but also the introduction into another world to which parents were forbidden entrance. This dilemma occupied both the actions and emotions of parents. Whether the introduction into this other cultural and intellectual world turned out to successful or not depended significantly on meaningful others. Essential was that the children’s abilities were validated by the meaningful others’ authority. This afforded self-confidence. These respected authorities were generally well-intentioned teachers with an eye for potential, who put in an extra effort to facilitate its development. But they could also be friends who had provided a meaningful contribution; subcultures with other sets of shared values; kind colleagues; or even fleeting acquaintances who by chance fulfi lled a role in their lives. These individuals were oftentimes remembered as kind-hearted, altruistic facilitators of opportunities leading to the university gates.

5.2

THE ACADEMIC WORLD

Not everyone’s initial acquaintance with the university directly followed high school graduation. The route for a number of college graduates was by way of second-chance educational programs. For some the costs, in terms of effort and determination, were high. Typical of this group was that their initial study did not provide automatic entrance to the university. Others, who were adequately prepared through a pre-university program in high school, fi rst tried or completed another study in a university for applied sciences or seminary. This group only got onto the track of a university study, eventually accomplished, via an adult education route.4 Still others, having completed a required preliminary study, initially lived unsettled lives or worked temporary jobs either as employees or homemakers and only later started a university study via an indirect route. Although most respondents went directly to a university following completion of the required high school programs and graduation, the individuals who did not assume this to be a self-evident step commonly shared a feeling of disbelief that they had actually reached this point. Though the message (or conviction) that an academic education was not meant for “our kind” had been overcome, integrating the new mind-set was not

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automatically accomplished. Moreover, the choice for a university study represented other life choices, which had already been expressed in the selected field of study. Thus, there was more required than diligent study. It was above all a lifestyle that had to be related to in different ways. First and foremost, the threshold to new challenges fi lled with self-confrontation had been crossed.

Choosing a Field Selecting a field of study was by now a process in progress. And as indicated by various accounts, many were still undecided during freshman year (and even the years to follow). In addition, for the majority of these students, the fi nal choice for a field of study was not a path of carefully considered options based on adequate information, but more like a series of trial and error. Based on experience with their own children or students, some respondents pointed out that such a choice-making process was presently dealt with systematically, and that parents, teachers and other experts play a part. None of my respondents had undergone a similar process. Therefore, the parents’ approach when it came to their own children was nothing less than a head-on confrontation with their past. The following citation is especially exemplary for the difference with today’s situation and that of my respondents when they were young: If I compare how my kids make decisions about what they want to do and how it fits professional opportunities—just all the consideration that goes into it! We were so naive in comparison. We went to university, left home and started our lives. I did psychology just because I happened to have read a couple of books on the subject—scientific books—and I thought psychological experiments were interesting ( . . . ). I was also interested in research. I believe now that I was also motivated to work less with people and more in the area of research, numbers and objects. (16_41) It appears at fi rst glance as if this interviewee had selected his study arbitrarily and that the element of choice was of secondary significance. Besides the desire to leave the parental home, it seems as if the following questions were at issue: “Do I have the nerve to go to university?” and “Does it lead to a practical profession with job opportunities?” But the desire to work with discovered interests and to reach more meaningful ideals was also concerned, often triggered by an outstanding teacher. A Choice Not Well Considered It seemed as if the choice of the respondent cited below was more of a process of elimination than a systematic one:

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Yes. That’s why I went to college. If you’ve done the top-level pre-university program, you don’t not study. I chose English because it happened to be my best subject; it was not a choice that I’d especially weighed carefully ( . . . ) I simply enrolled thinking, I might as well. (19_26) Another respondent feels his work as a sociologist is no less than a calling. Still, before reaching that realization, he was already halfway through his study of medicine: I never reflected on my future. I never even got that far. Medicine was the apparent choice, which, looking back, was a big mistake: biology, a little chemistry, psychiatry. With hindsight I can say that my interest was in psychiatry, which contains a lot of sociology and philosophy. But I didn’t see that at the time. Or, maybe I thought I would reach these topics by way of medicine, which was obviously nonsense, but who told me so? I couldn’t even talk to teachers about it ( . . . ). The main thing was trying to figure out what it was you could handle, not so much the substance of what you were doing.This led to my medicine study ( . . . ). It was a cut-and-dry profession. You have an idea of what a GP does. I didn’t have the faintest notion about what a sociologist did. There were those guidebooks to help you pick a study, but a clear description of a sociologist—that was so incredibly remote. Your thoughts were more directed towards the standard professions. (3_83–84) For numerous individuals, this citation is especially illustrative for a lack of experience and the uncertainty surrounding the process of choosing a direction of study. As regards to the decisive factors for choosing a future path, subjects that came easily to students were considered less important than professions that were believed to provide the best future security. Also crucial was that the profession had to be commonly known, familiar to both student and parents, and, above all, not vague. In the case of this man, the pressure of status exercised by the mother played an important role. In his perception, the standing and load of the study and profession outweighed their content. The only issue left was if he had the capacity to handle the study: all other questions had been resolved. In order to undergo a change of mind, a crisis was called for: I was in my fifth year and doing my internship. I had already worked in the pulmonary ward and I still had to start in the outpatient unit. I was assigned to research something about arthritis and it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t have the slightest interest in the subject! I realized that theoretical knowledge was where my talents were ( . . . ). In medicine you need to apply what you know. And that was the last thing I wanted to do. (3_88)

110 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility It has been previously shown that some respondents symbolically extrapolated their parents’ wishes by, for example, becoming a pharmacist instead of a lab technician or a doctor instead of a nurse. At the time however, they experienced it differently and—at a conscious level—had their own motives. The ophthalmologist who wasn’t satisfied with her father’s aims for her (an internship, an apartment and a car), was still undecided following high school graduation about further studies. Her initial plans didn’t even include entering a research university; she had considered a higher vocational study related to her volunteer work with a youth organization. I applied to a university of applied sciences though I fi nally started to wonder if this was really for me and (if) I should go to a research university instead. But what would I major in? I had thought about medicine, though only momentarily. I remember someone in my graduating class exclaiming resolutely, “I’m going for medicine!” I thought that was so admirable because that kind of attitude was so far removed from mine. I didn’t feel nearly good enough and figured this classmate must be really good. (26_27) This case is an exemplary illustration of “university inaccessibility.” The combination of fear of failure and unfamiliarity were a barrier for this respondent to attend the university’s information days, leading to a compromise for a pedagogical study. It did not take her long to realize that this was not a study she wanted to continue to pursue. The subjects in the study that appealed to her were statistics and children’s neurology. She thus discovered where her interests lay: That was the moment I realized: My mind is made up and I’m going for medicine. My second thought was, though: How am going to tell my parents? (26_32) This last expression of lamentation is particularly meaningful in regard to parents’ significance when it came to study choice: the relief of having fi nally found her direction would still be tested when her parents were given the news. Detours A cardiologist’s story perfectly elucidates how the preference for a practical profession and clear and concrete topics of study are rooted in family culture. Despite his mother’s influence—her job as usher in a theater had introduced the family to culture—he initially opted for an engineering study: This was a tradition passed on by my father. ( . . . ) I was always busy with handcrafts. It was a hobby and a lot of my time went into it. My

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father would bring home all kinds of things from work, like old telephones or parts from alarm systems and I built a whole system for the neighborhood. ( . . . ) I had a big interest in anything and everything technical, undoubtedly from my father. That’s why I decided to go to an institute for technology. (4_64–66) The study was rigorous due to its abstract mathematics and quantum mechanics—as he experienced it later, medicine was a lot easier—but at the point that his technical study started to get really interesting his incentive began to wane: I felt the content of my technical study was getting monotonous ( . . . ) I wanted to do medical research. That’s how I got into medicine ( . . . ) as time went on I left the idea of engineering behind me. ( . . . ) Besides, the idea of being a doctor was starting to take hold. You find yourself in a different culture, where everyone is heading in the same direction. I was particularly attracted to psychiatry, also in the spirit of the times, like the widespread movement against psychotropic drugs in psychiatry and biological psychiatry. As I saw it there needed to be a radical change and this is what I was focused on. (4_87) One respondent’s philosophy study was triggered by his participation in reading circles, organized by his brother (a 1960s hippie): We read the anarchists as well as Marx, and the like. It was not really philosophy but there I discovered that I enjoyed theorizing in order to distance myself from just hard facts: that is, empirics. This is the key to my philosophical interest. I’m not particularly interested in empirics. I’m much more interested in concepts, ideologies: how we think about things. (6_80) Moving away from empirical studies was, however, not the obvious choice from the start; a detour was needed in order to reach that understanding: Following high school graduation, I went to the university in my hometown, to study psychology. It took me six months to totally lose my way. It was all about behaviorism. I was totally turned off by operant conditioning. The idea that psychology suited me continued to grow because even within philosophy it’s psychology or the psychological foundation for philosophy that fascinates me. ( . . . ) In any case, the fact that I realized that I wasn’t on the right track was a defi nite help. My brothers struggled on but I decided on time to quit. ( . . . ) I found a room away from home and fi nally, after three years doing odd jobs, I suddenly decided to study philosophy. By that time I was really motivated and moved to (another city).

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I sweated it out and got straight Bs. And that’s how it’s been ever since. (6_81)

A total absence of challenge was the motivation for another respondent, now with a master’s degree and PhD in sociology, leaving the seminary. Still, the university was initially not an option. I didn’t have the courage to attempt a university, despite having had finished the highest-level pre-university program. My redeemer turned out to be a social worker, where my father worked. My father had been talking to her because of his own problems. He wasn’t strong emotionally and had had a breakdown when a piece wage system was introduced at his company. He was also struggling with me. They had worn themselves out for me, and did everything in their power financially, and then I quit the seminary. What were they supposed to do? Overcoming the fear of university was no easy feat when your father has had a breakdown, in part due to your choices. Advised by the social worker, the student qualified for a university study, enrolled in a school of social work; it only became apparent to him afterward that he was up to a more intellectually strenuous program. But the same man, who had been so proud to accomplish his demanding high school study on time, experienced a significant delay in college. Besides the challenge of overcoming his apprehension due to the university’s strangeness, there was also the doubt about own abilities that needed to be conquering. Moreover, because of his father’s state of mind, he didn’t feel free to attempt facing his uncertainty and fear in order to just give it a try.

Life and Study A university study was more than studying only. It also meant becoming acquainted with a new lifestyle. Only a very few of my respondents became immersed in student life or became involved in the student movement. Most just seriously hit the books and in the process met the confrontation with others as well as themselves. The fi rst hurdle was the outsider status in numerous aspects of the new world. Alienating Experiences The respondent who studied medicine before switching to sociology was constantly confronted with the blatant differences between himself and his fellow students in his freshman year: What I immediately noticed were certain students, who even in the fi rst year, kept their white coats on following dissecting room. I just

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didn’t get it. I never, for example, even bought a practice kit but borrowed one from friends studying veterinary medicine. I didn’t even buy a medical dictionary: I kept it to a bare minimum. During practice medicine psychology I never said a word. I could hardly even follow it. Autism was treated the fi rst year and we were expected to express our opinions. How could I have an opinion about something when I didn’t even know what it was? (3_99) The difference was more than just fi nancial latitude. Surprise about existing status symbols and the refusal to adopt these, both in the form of material attributes as well as communication forms, also served to set our respondents apart. Coming from the province of Limburg in the south, he had little affinity with savvy fellow students from the more sophisticated areas of the country making their presence known with their habit of giving a strategic answer.5 And he believed he saw it all with a lot more clarity: A friend of mine always says: “What’s an intellectual? Just a bigmouthed, so-called urbanized sophisticate!” That’s the way we saw things as Limburgers. Those from beyond the province just shot off their mouths without restraint or inhibited by (lack of) insight or knowledge—just as long as you make yourself heard. As Limburgers this was foreign to us, also because we’d come from strict schools. We learned to speak when spoken to or when you really had something to say. I really messed up my fi rst year. By the second year, I’d caught on. But that didn’t keep me from thinking that there was an awful lot of meaningless bull. (3_101) His sociology study revealed new confrontations with his working-class background: I’m a child of the working class and my study was filled with middle-class kids, who almost all felt ashamed about what their parents had done to the working class. They thought they were supporting the laborers. But as I saw it they were no different than their parents, dictating to the working class how to behave and what to do: no difference at all. I even went to an occasional meeting and then I got into an argument about my attitude ( . . . ). A middle class kid had the nerve to tell me how I was supposed to act with the laborers. I also almost punched-out a guy. It was one big charade ( . . . ). They proselytized and made rules about how laborers should deal with the unions! (They called this) “action research.” (3_119) The sociologist, who had developed self-confidence and love for the field following his seminary and social work studies landed, as he experienced it, in a bizarre world:

114 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility The climate was empty and hollow (. . .) it didn’t take me long to stop following the standard curriculum. Two friends and I developed our own program. We did exactly what we wanted to do and acted like this fit the requirements, and none of the staff had the nerve to say anything about it. Papers had to be turned in within six weeks and we took six months to deliver a big pile, which was our socialization project. (. . .) and this was the consequence: the inability to execute a specific and clearly explained assignment! Choosing a topic, limiting its scope and step-by-step elaboration (. . .) these were all skills I had to learn in my future job. (18_42) These students would inevitably find their way; they had, after all, invested so much to get where they were and were genuinely serious about their study. The route could thus proceed according to their particular insights and pace but still without full preparation for the confrontation with the real world of work; there, personal interest was secondary and adaptation to a fi xed framework was mandatory. These illustrations, of course, are to be seen in the context of their times, and included their own chances and restrictions. Nonetheless, ability to exploit opportunities and overcome obstacles depends on the diligence and creativity of the individual. Similarly, another respondent’s acquaintance with the feminist perspective was behind such an off-putting and alienating experience that she turned from it all together. At the time she was studying pedagogy with a minor in women’s studies: And there she was ( . . . ) an extremely radical feminist ( . . . ) totally into Virginia Woolf. ( . . . ) There was something in one of Woolf’s books about men being able to retreat to their studies, while women had no place comparable for themselves. ( . . . ) And all I could think was, “What are you whining about? We lived with the five of us in three rooms! How could you possibly want to create a private space for everyone when you live in three rooms? She just didn’t get it and would not respond. She was so stuck in her own frame of reference that she couldn’t accept the fact that were large portions of society, even in the beginning of the 1980s, that just weren’t in that position.” (5_61) Sororities and Fraternities It is conspicuous that the majority of students had a complex relationship with elitist sororities and fraternities.6 In the period the respondents were in college, membership was becoming less and less self-evident. As one interviewee put it: These organizations were unpopular and due to the huge flux of students who didn’t know the route to get there, they just said, “Forget it; we’re going our own way.” (12_45)

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This statement is a sign of the soon-to-come replacement of elitist circles. Without social networks, the new classes made their entrée instead accompanied by individualism. But other accounts reveal a fear of the unknown or a form of repulsion, whether or not expressed as a form of class hostility. The question of whether they would want to join a fraternity or sorority at all never even came up for most students. Membership in such an elitist club was not a major issue, in any case. Joining another type of organization, at some point, was taken into consideration but other options to integrate into student life were more popular: We had our own popular music subculture. I played an instrument. ( . . . ) I had no aspiration to be part of the frat culture and still I identified as a student. We organized our own get-togethers at each other’s places with a couple crates of beer. And if we wanted to go out we’d meet at a journalists’ hangout near the old station before it was torn down. This fit our way of life. It felt “left” and in our opinion; fraternities and sororities were “right.” (16_66) This account reflects the mind-set of a new type of student, for whom entrance into the old boys’ network was no longer an option. Two generally accepted notions about fraternities and sororities are refuted: fi rstly, that they are essential in order to navigate university life, and, secondly, that they represent the student culture. In reality, it was impossible for respondents to fit in, and there was no desire to belong. Student Activism The person whose initial aim was to become a missionary was the sole respondent who had been involved, almost full-time, in student activism in the 1960s and 1970s. Before entering the university, his ideals were centered on Marxist theory and inspired by the worker-priest movement, originating from France. He went on to do union work after university. In retrospect, he recognizes a clear line of progression that has less to do with his working-class background than with the Catholic one in which he was raised: Based on what had preceded, my student activism was simply the next obvious step. It was also my introduction to Maoism. This movement was primarily supported by ex-seminary students from the elite Catholic schools. Their ideas appealed to me; there were definite parallels with missionary ideals, and the zeal was similar. Only the language and political analysis differed. ( . . . ) I left the movement near the end of my study, when I encountered its authoritarian structure and paternalist dominance. (13_26–27) Others participated in administrative bodies but with mixed feelings:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Before I knew it, I was on all kinds of boards; I was terrified and hardly dared to open my mouth. (. . .) At the time, I was a member of (an) executive board, and spokesperson. I was so nervous I could’ve fainted—the recurring social anxiety. It was really obvious. Looking back, I never should’ve done the job. Or I should’ve had therapy or some kind of training to prepare me. I went into it totally on my own and it only got harder and harder. It cost me many a sleepless night. (20_101–102)

In Chapter 8, I will treat the question of how social anxiety continued to affect this man during his career and especially why he felt it so important to fulfill board positions. Another respondent started his administrative and political career by joining a faculty board. This function gave him early experience with the dilemmas that go along with administrative responsibility. He was cut off from his student backing and at the same had to conclude that his colleague administrators, professors and instructors did not take him seriously as an administrator. He was in concurrence with the imposed national rules to limit the time in which a study had to be completed while his fellow students were opposed. They occupied the faculty office: When the faculty office was occupied and the police were let loose on the students, I wasn’t even notified. (14_21) Notably, personal motivation to defend government policy not only reflected his political views but was also rooted in his social standing as a laborer’s son: My friends from the street played soccer and I continued to play with them. They had no affi nity with this political game. It was exotic and far removed from their experience. Ultimately they were my frame of reference. (14_65–69) The basic attitude of all respondents, who were confronted with the ideals of the student movement of those times, could be summed up as the following: though it stands for us in theory, we don’t recognize ourselves in the movement as its voice is not ours. There was even less affinity with the student movement than with the raucous culture of the loud-mouthed frat boys. Two key routes of participation, fraternity/sorority life and student activism, were controversial options. Each activity included dominating aspects, which our respondents had not wanted to be associated with. They were compelled to fi nd their own way outside these obtrusive frameworks. And this individual course was no simple undertaking.

Study Delay and Crisis Owing to their efforts, most respondents were able to complete their studies within a reasonable time period, though fi nancial implications were a key

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incentive. Namely, every delay had consequences, either by way of scholarship repayment or the prolonged weight of a study loan. This extra burden, however, did not always serve to guarantee speedy completion of study. Student life, the study itself, the nature of the study content—so far removed from practical existence—were all elements contributing to delays. At the same time, the opportunity to experiment to the full with a different kind of lifestyle certainly had its temptations: There was even a period during my study (when) I even considered quitting. I wasn’t very happy and I was spending a lot of time mountaineering. But, oh, well, at that age behaving irresponsibly can feel good. ( . . . ) I still had a series of exams coming up and I was having a hard time facing it. Thanks to a friend, who advised me to stick to it, I simply took them and passed. (2_90) Unable to see the social relevance of the material treated in his psychology study, another respondent also experienced a delay: I was seriously wondering if I should complete my study. ( . . . ) This was the period (when) the common wisdom dictated that you had to do something social relevant and not have to deal with trivial statistics. I became somewhat detached from my study and questioned it more and more. I did stick with it but it took me a long time. ( . . . ) I had a job on the side, which didn’t make going back to the world of research and methods any easier. (16_46) During a job application process, he was asked to provide his diploma, an event that motivated the completion of his study in a matter of months. This psychologist is markedly similar to the pharmacist, who was tempted to give up his study for his hobby, finally making a pragmatic choice. In the case of another respondent, a chemistry professor, a kind of eerie feeling accompanied his entire study period: Although I was integrated, I didn’t always feel at ease. There were times, during lectures, I’d ask myself who I was and what I was doing there, sometimes with a sense of agitation that stuck with me during the whole study. I believe that had to do with a complete lack of substantive stimulus related to the study itself. (27_29) Despite feeling integrated and untroubled by class difference, as reported in the introduction of this section, the lack sensed—an absence of substantive stimulus–was nonetheless typical. This was the source of the uncomfortable feeling treated in depth in the previous chapter. Yet another respondent was, as a medical student, also well integrated. His activities included, among others, membership in a fraternity and intensive participation in the faculty of medicine’s advisory board and the

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accompanying practices. But before reaching that point he had undergone various crises. Having to learn proper table manners from his fellow students, and being corrected for wearing the “wrong” jacket and leaving a reception without thanking his hostess, were among the least of these. The worst of it was that he felt himself slipping away from those at home and his old working-class neighborhood, where he was more and more derogatorily referred to as “the student.” A severe personal crisis went along with this process of separation. The real crisis took place in my second year, when I had to make all kinds of crucial decisions. ( . . . ) And then I landed, as Heidegger put it, in a kind of “Seinsvergessenheit.” ( . . . ) Who am I really and where do I belong: an identity crisis is what it comes down to, also from the things I had to let go of. ( . . . ) In the meanwhile I’d met a really nice girl but of course it couldn’t last. She put an end to it because I neglected her. That’s all part of it and then it starts to affect you physically. (17_40) This identity crisis is clearly an analysis in hindsight; at that point in time he had a complete physical examination. His doctor was able to offer reassurance about what he had assumed was a heart condition. He was prescribed psychotropic medication, which helped to calm him but did nothing to solve the actual problem. He had to develop an effective therapy on his own: Despite everything, I was able to fall back on my own survival instinct that year: think about this, forget about that, that kind of thing. Focus on the next exam: that’s what matters. I don’t need the fraternity, the drugs or the union. All I need is my books; that’s it. And the funny thing is, it helped me fi nd peace of mind. (17_60) The prescription for a mood-modifying drug following a quick diagnosis suggests that crises in the lives of students were not unique for a university doctor. The urgency was connected to the student’s not knowing where else to turn. Solutions to issues about continued opportunities depended in part on the ability of these students to sustain themselves materially. Scholarships played an essential role.

5.3

FINANCIAL AID AND JOBS ON THE SIDE

Crises and dilemmas illustrate the precarious nature of the fi nancial conditions for study. None of my respondents had fi nancial support from home. My older respondents had received scholarships, which they were not obligated to pay back if their grades remained up to standard. The younger generation were dependent on study loans, which some, at the time of the interviews, were still paying back. But what applied to all was that they

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could not afford any crises, delays or switches, and the fi rst pressing question if such circumstances occurred was whether they could continue to study. My interviews were exclusively with those who were able to overcome their crises. Still, numerous respondents knew others who were not able to succeed in rising above the obstacles. The respondent who, following a psychological crisis, realized that sociology was a better choice and thus dropped his medical study lost his scholarship: I took a study loan for the following five years, which I’m still paying back. I have friends whose parents paid for their studies but I’ll be repaying for just about forever. I didn’t give it a second thought at the time. I had no one to help me. My mother was a stranger to this world and I had little contact with her at the time. I just went on without thinking. (3_117) Although the words above reveal self-reproach for ignorance and not thinking through his situation at the time, this respondent was unmistakably on his own; there was no one at hand to provide support. Even practical information about the consequences of a long-term loan and strategies to limit the risks was lacking. A government scholarship was partly dependent on family income, and any changes could affect the conditions of the scholarship or even put the study in jeopardy. Certain large companies such as Phillips and Shell provided scholarships for children of their employees. I was tested; that was the only condition. You also needed a certain grade level. My pre- university program also provided an entrance exam, and, based on your final exam results, you could take the scholarship test. You fi rst got a complete scholarship and later an addition to the government scholarship. It was a real scholarship, not an advance. (16_39) Despite a shortage of family resources, one respondent—the individual who took on board responsibilities during his literature study–felt well off, due to the fact that his side jobs and scholarship combined well. But he felt that there was more contributing: When I started to study there was that fantastic student grant. The kids from the higher classes had to get by with three hundred guilders while I had had twice as much. In 1972, this was plenty for renting a room. I did have to pay back a part of it but that was easy enough ( . . . ) (it was) interest free and there was no rush. I took care of it all at once in the eighties ( . . . ). There were a lot less fi nancial obstacles than now; that’s my point. (14_117–121)

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The pursuit of a side job in manual labor could also be, in part, idealistically motivated. The future union secretary went to work in a canning factory prior to his pedagogy and psychology study, at the end of the period spent in the seminary. He also did heavy labor during his study, combining idealistic and fi nancial goals: Among other jobs, I worked in road construction ( . . . ) alternating twelve hours one week in the daytime and twelve hours the following week at night until I could start school (and student activism activities) again in October. (13_26) Most students could manage on a scholarship (and or loan) without too much difficulty and meet any future debts with relative ease. Markedly, references are made to the emotional and psychological implications of fi nancial aid. We have already explored the stigmatizing effects of old issues of textbooks provided by local government, in which students had trouble fi nding information because the books differed from those of classmates. But in most cases this aid was experienced as welcome because it freed parents of the extra burden. Staying updated on the options for fi nancial aid could go a long way but required alertness. One respondent described her scholarship as a means of independence from her parents and thus a way to gain control over her guilt feelings. But the effects of stigmatization had to be accepted as inseparable from the process: There was (apparently) a system for compensation of books for lowincome families in my high school. I was the only one in class who made use of it, at least that’s what I thought, and always felt humiliated taking my book list to the principal’s office with my father’s tax return, to apply for the fund. I felt like a little beggar girl with a torn dress. But of course I did it anyway. It was also around that time that I saw the headlines: “Government Encourages Working Class Children to Attend University.” I understood that this also meant me. So if the government wanted it then it was acceptable and fi nancially feasible. This influenced my decision to go to university, even more than my father’s approval. (28_240) Her father’s permission could only have meaning if the state provided its promised contribution. At the time, an eighteen-year-old was not recognized as a legal adult; therefore, her father’s signature was required in order for her to be eligible for a student grant. This gave the father of another respondent the perfect opportunity to come up with objections: My father was opposed to my studying and I needed (my parents’) signatures (I was not yet twenty-one) to apply for the university. And that triggered plenty of arguments. ( . . . ) I really needed the student loan

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but the idea of a loan was unacceptable to him. It just wasn’t done in his world. (26_49) Signing an application form for a student grant caused a major upheaval in another family: I was nineteen and still a minor. After I’d applied for a grant, an official letter arrived with an IOU for two thousand guilders on top in a giantletter type. So my father had to sign as guarantor in the event I couldn’t meet the repayments or stopped studying, for whatever reason, before my twenty-fi rst birthday. He couldn’t do it. He earned seventy guilders a week. That’s it: seventy guilders. His reaction was to ask how he could possibly be expected to do it. ( . . . ) He didn’t sleep for a week. ( . . . ) At one point he told me that he felt like Martin Luther, who, facing Charles V, had said, “Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me.” And then my father continued, “It’s the same for me. I can never pay this off. I’ll just have to go to prison.” (17_26) The association with Luther may seem pathetic but it perfectly illustrates the psychological effect of disruption caused by a debt, and shows the delicate balance in the household. Adjusting to the inevitable under such circumstances shows generosity, courage and at the same time confidence that his son will not disappoint. Fortunately, it ended well for the father. His son eventually became a surgeon—although he had to overcome a few signifi cant crises during his studies, before he turned twenty-one. Nonetheless, his study grant created a new perspective and opened opportunities for both parents and children. The burden could be great.

5.4

GRADUATION AND BEYOND

Exploring the Job Market The transition from the fi nal phase of study to a working career was not smooth for everyone. The circumstances surrounding the job market in the 1970s and 1980s were influential. Moreover, job applications meant a confrontation with the applicants’ background. One woman had gotten her master’s degree in pedagogy with an art history topic. She blamed fear for her decision to pursue this route instead of the more practical field, remedial education: I saw the risk of taking home the problems of the children I worked with. That would not have done any good for me or for the children I saw. (5_76–79)

122 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Besides an inability, psychologically, to find professional distance, her choice reveals a preference for abstractness, at the expense of the tangible objective of pedagogy. This had consequences for her chances in the job market. But there were other factors at work: I was always an outsider. When everyone wore blue jeans in high school, I didn’t. I wanted to wear what I wanted. I thought, “If you don’t like it, that’s your problem, not mine.” I was still like that during my study; I guess I’ve always been the odd one. (5_94–97) I could not determine in our interview if this commentary was a conclusion based on a series of job applications. Still, her remarks regarding her nonconformist attitude clearly show the meaning she attached to her role as job applicant. I came as myself. I dressed neatly and made sure my appearance was personable. But people have to accept me as I am. I had no intention of making endless concessions. I already had had to make so many changes that I thought if I had to make any more I wouldn’t be myself. ( . . . ) You remain in touch with your own. ( . . . ) I’ve met people who have totally broken with their past and only saw their parents with Christmas or other rare occasions. They had made a total transition to the new world, and I thought to myself, “Never!” (5_98–101) Being true to herself and her world through outward expression of her individuality was more important than conforming to informal rules of dress in order to facilitate entrance into the saturated job market. For another recent graduate with a master’s degree in history, job opportunities were so poor in her field that she completed a law study: I graduated at the beginning of the eighties, when the job market was really tight and jobs for graduates were few and far-between. I had a friend who studied law and I was thinking about dance academy ( . . . ), all ideas to tackle unemployment. My sister taunted me by saying, “What good has your degree done you?” It had always been her role to put me down and make me feel stupid and worthless. I fi nally decided to fight back and to prove her wrong, even though I felt it was my own fault that I was jobless, and that was a hard pill to swallow. I signed up for law school and studied at night, together with a friend (who later got a teaching job). I did any kind of work I could get. (9_28) This story is interesting as it illustrates that unemployment allowed this woman to open up to cultural and creative interests. The pressure from her family circle, personified by her non-academic sister, is a source of guilt.

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This is ultimately the trigger to choose a new academic path to once again prove herself.

Origin as a Source of Inspiration for Work One respondent allowed her origin to play an actual role in her final thesis: The topic of my thesis dealt with working-class girls. I interviewed city girls from a totally different culture than my own: working-class girls and their prospects for the future. This was so different than my own small-town background. (29_97–99) Dissatisfaction with the childrearing culture experienced in her home had been a major factor influencing this respondent’s process of becoming familiarized with the job market. She had already set up training and information projects for girls from working-class families associated with her pedagogy studies. These projects had been triggered by the insulated attitude in her family regarding sexuality: I gave sex education workshops during my studies. ( . . . ) I believe this was my reaction to how it had been at home, where no one ever talked about sex, not a word ( . . . ). This inspired to me to do something with the topic. I had a broad interest (in) the entire subject. I gave trainings to high school teachers and then looked for work in the field. But it was not an easy time ( . . . ) there was a lot of unemployment ( . . . ) fi nally I landed ( . . . ) a policy position in a street prostitution project: that was my fi rst job, about a year and a half following graduation. (29_112) The union secretary had completed all his exams but went to work without fi nishing his thesis. He aimed to do training work for the union with his pedagogical background, and felt the only adequate preparation was to work as a laborer, this despite his rejection of the philosophy, at the time, of the radical student movement, which required students to go into the factories to function as “red” missionaries: Then I went into construction so I could get to know the young workers’ movement. In the meantime, jobs there for university graduates had become controversial ( . . . ) I got a job as construction helper and did that for two years. (13_29–30) A medical student was confronted with a different kind of predicament at the time of graduation, and his chosen path reflected loyalty to his background. After undergoing more than one negative experience with specialists, he decided against working in a hospital.

124 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I knew early on that working in a hospital surrounded by all the blahblah-blah about mortgages and expensive cars was not for me. They were all members of the Rotary club. That’s what they spent their time talking about. (22_33) His aversion for the prevailing mood at the time was—as illustrated later on—unquestionably inspired by his origin, and he specialized in pediatrics. And even though he practices in an underprivileged area, his choice was originally motivated by pragmatic arguments. Decided? Whatever that means ( . . . )_ I graduated in ’82. That was the time that GPs’ wives were expected to actively support the practice. But that wasn’t meant to be for me. (22_36) A wife as “backup” was, for an openly homosexual man, in any case, not an option. However, to gain insight into his defi nitive choice for social medicine, some background knowledge is instructive. Elsewhere he compared his mother’s pedagogical style with that of a kindergarten teacher. This was apparently a more important identification model for the respondent than his father’s sports coach discipline. But wherever the influence originated, he significantly defi nes his profession in an educative context using his home milieu as a reference. Though not lacking self-confidence or ambition, an ophthalmologist recalls how she was rejected for a residency position following her graduation as junior doctor. The existence of undisguised discrimination was obvious at the time: I was a junior doctor and really eager to go into neurosurgery. There is only a handful in the country and just two of these are women. But this is what I wanted to do. It’s a pity, but I wasn’t accepted. There are so many obstacles to deal with. First, they assume you want to work from nine to five. Nonsense! If that were the case, I wouldn’t have chosen medicine in the fi rst place. Then they think that as a woman you only want to work part-time. And when I said I had a good support system and no family to care for, they still refused me. Possibly their judgment was based on experience. At a certain point I just went to work ( . . . ) as a doctor, without continuing my training. I’ve learned a great deal. (26_78–79) Even the overwhelming evidence that she would undoubtedly provide a conscientious and valuable contribution, as shown by her lifestyle and obvious motivation, was seemingly not enough to influence the fi nal decision of the specialists in her favor. It is, however, worth noting that she had some appreciation for the outcome based on the experience of the decision makers.

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Apparently, when it comes to attaining such goals, even qualities of selfconfidence and clear focus can be overshadowed by the complicating factor of being a woman.

5.5

FINALLY

There came a moment when the period of transition came to a close and the respondents—though not always with ease—entered professional life. There were those who felt they had been well prepared and through their study and student life had gotten a sense of where they were headed. Others felt they had to change their direction. And there were those who could not go to work in their field because of the state of the job market. Entrance into university had not always been immediately self-evident. Many went through a phase where help from third parties was needed in order to be convinced of their own abilities. In addition, study choice was also a complicated process and the question as to the degree of choice still remains unanswered. However, utterly unknown throughout this process was a systematic method of choice, where intellectual qualities, study interests, and future prospects were weighed and compared with each other in order to discover a clear preference. It is remarkable that some only started to consider their own decision-making methods the moment they were confronted with the extensive support offered to their children. Those who happened to expediently fi nd their way could attribute this to their evident affinity with a topic—though usually the interest had to be fought for, in light of parents’ unawareness. For the majority of these individuals the key questions remains: What is the best way to transform the knowledge gained and ensuing degree into a successful and fulfi lling life and career, and how can the fruits of the study be reaped most effectively?

6

Career and Life

6.1

MEANINGS, NOT FACTORS

I focus in this chapter on my respondents’ experiences regarding the quality and characteristics of their careers and their emotional responses. The questions are whether, how and to what extent they recognize their class background in the events that have taken place and concerning the decisions they have (or have not) made. This includes ambitions, attitudes and longings as well as perceptions of their associations with superiors and subordinates, colleagues and others. Biographical stories about life and career tend to become stories of success and failure. For the sake of systematic selection, I have used social success as a criterion, while distinguishing between successful, standard and unsuccessful careers. However, I have taken a pragmatic approach, devoid of value judgment, based on positional career characteristics: those who are successful are those who, in light of their education, profession and context, have reached the highest possible position. A standard career is one in which the individual has continued to do what he or she has been trained for. Unsuccessful careers concern jobs that are below the level of possibilities for the person in question, possibilities created by the education, or jobs that remain unchanged despite second-chance education. Regarding the success or failure of their own careers, respondents’ own views, and what they attribute these outcomes to, are of major importance and independent of this selection criterion. The subjective positioning of career is central; at the same time it is unavoidable that objective positioning is an important condition for how the experience is perceived. Most of the respondents have achieved a career and at times relate their stories with unconcealed pride. Others have had difficulties accepting careers that have failed to meet expectations. But this does not mean they are dissatisfied. As I have indicated, this chapter is not about class-specifi c grounds for success and failure. It is rather about how the causes are subjectively experienced; within this framework, both success and failure are interpreted based on the context of events and patterns of thinking.

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CAREER, AMBITION AND HARD WORK

Wrestling with Ambition One respondent, a lecturer at a university for applied sciences, had completed her pre-university high school program, gone to work as a secretary and then made an attempt at studying French. She is married, has three children and followed her husband for his career abroad. Later she undertook the study of psychology of religion. She calls herself ambitious. But when asked how she perceives the connection of her ambition with her background, she responds that the thought of ambition triggers contradictory feelings and role confl icts, while referring to her mother’s ambition: Never simply accepting that things are as they are ( . . . ) looking back you can see that her dominance and ambition also had advantages. If she hadn’t pushed me to get into the pre-university program, a lot of what I’ve achieved would have been beyond me. (1_56) This negatively formulated basic attitude to transcend her environment was not automatically translated into proactive career planning focused on a specific goal. She tends to use the defi nition of “utilizing the chances that happen to arise”: This has been key in determining my career, if you can even call it that: something has always come my way. And I’ve always reacted to it. And if I compare this to students that I meet nowadays, who take conscious steps because these are practical, then it was very different for me. Something always came my way and I would inevitably respond. Sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn’t. (1_79) The issues at hand are thus not systematic and well-considered steps in light of career consciousness and practical career planning. Ambition is rather recognizing and then grabbing the chances that arise. The fact that by way of an indirect route and as the mother of three children she took on a new study aimed at attaining her doctorate is living proof. But planning was absent from the process: I had never learned anything about this kind of planning at home and didn’t have a clue. This is, of course, different for our children. I see that this is something they come across, and if they bring it up with me, I can discuss it with them because now I understand. I had no sounding board. (1_81–83) There was no lack of ambition but goals have to be defi ned with regards to that which is presented. Her upbringing provided her with an attitude

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to want more than meets the eye but not with an understanding that this could be planned for the long term. Ambition needs substance. And in this regard another respondent recognizes a significant class difference. During his pedagogical studies he had a relationship with a fellow student: I still see her. She holds a prestigious board function What has amazed me, looking back, was that she was in no way as fanatic as I was when it came to pure academic knowledge. My passion for reading (developed in elementary school teacher’s training college) progressed; I read scientific literature zealously, while she was especially focused on her future without interest in the knowledge that went along with it; that was not crucial, she thought—that’s what I was for. In hindsight, you could have seen she would be a good manager. She thought my (intellectual) fervor was interesting but not essential. (30_19) At issue here is the contrast between form and substance, personal strategy and the essence of the question at hand. For one individual the latter is vital and for the other it is just a means to an end. The combination of career ambition and work is for another respondent anything but self-evident. Hard work is not necessarily accompanied by ambition: Up until the time I was thirty, I read a lot, studied hard and did a lot of drinking. My world was small, safe and very limited. There was no necessity to deal with all kinds of skills necessary for certain professions. Sometimes I’m asked why I’ve always refused to pursue a career. ( . . . ) I was simply not interested and a little frightened of the idea on an unconscious level and wondered if I had it in me. (3_117) After graduating with a degree in sociology, he landed a research job but left after six months, feeling too inadequate for the position to meet expectations. Two and a half years later, he got a job in a translation office: Translating provided me with security, money and status. I thought the job title, “translator,” looked impressive, and it was an intellectual occupation. It was defensible. (3_162) He went on to get a teaching position. Especially significant here are his comments regarding his frame of reference. In that sense, I’m still working class. My people always did physical labor. And especially in construction this is heavy work. ( . . . ) I’ve always had to organize things. It’s something I’m capable of but I don’t care to do it. This isn’t work to me; if it isn’t physically heavy, it’s not work. (3_155)

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Work can only be called work if it is difficult and involves exertion; career can only be called career if it is achieved through real effort. In this sense, intellectual work and manual labor are comparable but keeping an organization going is trivial and inconsequential. There is no challenge—and therefore it is not work. A professor with an international career attributes his success to his determined efforts and the opportunities that have come his way. Despite his success he attaches great significance to “handwork at the university”: teaching and supervising doctoral students: I want to give good education. I see it as sophisticated live entertainment; they all have to want front-row seats. ( . . . ) There were times that I had too little time to supervise doctoral and other students but there were three staff members for the job. ( . . . ) I could still get a dean’s position but I’d have to be out of my mind to want it. That job’s a nightmare. We hear a similar account form a cardiologist, based on the history of a friend who became a hospital director: I’m really where I belong and comfortable in my role. You’ve gotten to know so many people, so many patients. You develop real relationships with them. ( . . . ) You go though really intense situations, which people remember. It takes years to build up these relationships. That also goes for hospital staff. I know everybody, at least their faces, and I know a lot of their names—from the cleaning staff to the mangers. (4_152–154) For both this cardiologist and the professor, their jobs mean more than simply the job itself. The people involved are also meaningful: students, staff, patients, cleaning workers and managers. “Top” in this context signifies the profession and not a top managerial position. One respondent is adamant in his refusal to reach the “top,” even in his field. He has a degree in medicine and has specialized in labor and company healthcare. He is the author of a book about HIV/AIDS and lectures on the topic. His experiences were, however, not unanimously positive: What was particularly frustrating was that I felt that I actually had something consequential to say on the subject but there were always a lot of blowhards who thought they knew it all. ( . . . ) It’s all about the exterior for some people and there’s little interest in the substance. My focus is the substance and my standards in that area are high. (10_52–53) In this interview, he attributes his suspicious attitude to fringe confrontations with pseudo experts and other “blowhards,” and not to his own fear

130 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility of failing. In this manner individuals, who from his perspective have made no valuable contribution, are still awarded a crucial role, at the moment that he has achieved something and can make an important career move.

The Call of Duty Responding to opportunity and accepting challenges that repeatedly arise within the context—without planning or outspoken ambition—is another red thread in the managerial and political career of a respondent who at the time of the interview was a member of the second chamber of the Dutch parliament. Following his degree in linguistics he applied for a job as a public servant for one of the provinces. Despite his appearance—long hair and beard—he was hired for the job. At the same time, he became active in his hometown as a member of the Labor Party, where he had a function in local politics: So there you were “being political” with about forty others in a makeshift offi ce, converted from the fi rst floor of a house. This was my fi rst taste of community council politics and was instrumental in my ending up in city government for our party. And that, in combination with my job as official for the province, turned out to be a very formative experience. It actually all went very smooth and harmoniously. One thing I’ve gotten from my background is to take things easy. I’ve never really been especially ambitious. Things have always come pretty naturally and I’ve never really gone for it. (14_74–75) This is a story of how one thing led to another: it simply emerged. He was not motivated by a burning ambition. Events simply transpired. He just happened to be the right person at the right place and at the right moment and he was curious about the world of politics: So it never occurred to me to make a step-by-step plan for a career in politics or government. Q: But you must have had plans? A: No! Q: But you wanted to make your mark? A: Yes, but that wasn’t based on strategy about my fi nal destination. If you’d ask what the difference is between the classes then I’d say ambition. Now this doesn’t always hold; there are exceptions. Q: You don’t feel a certain call to duty? A: No. From my own frame of reference I had already achieved a great deal, while from the reference point of others, you only count once you’ve made millions. That’s not the way I feel. Some

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people end up in powerful positions just like their parents. That’s foreign to me. Still others originating from similar backgrounds could also be very ambitious because reverse situations can also result. (14_76–86) Children from working-class backgrounds might also embrace ambition. But in actuality they do not know the sense of pressure accompanying the race for top positions and salaries. Their ambition is, accordingly, another type of ambition and thus differs from the others who they work with. But it also diverges from the type of ambition held by those from the former milieu, where certain standards exist over how to succeed. Here careerism is permeated with a feeling of responsibility, professionalism and especially the art of assessing situations on their real merit. Understanding your capabilities, a sense of challenge and taking responsibility for being available at the right moment are the issues at hand: If I have to name anything that might’ve been an obstacle, then I’d have to say it’s a lack of ambition. Looking with some perspective you could say that with these talents and opportunities I could have become a cabinet minister, and it’s something I hear. But I’ve never really been that kind of a climber. (14_135) Throughout his career as local and national politician he had to operate in the world of the climbers but the experience was not without certain ambivalence: Currently, and it fits like a glove, though then again maybe it doesn’t (he mentions an influential function in the top league of a soccer team in the city). It fits because it connects me to my youth. It’s a combination of something that gives fulfi llment for people, besides work; but on the other side you’ve got the rich sponsors and business relations. I’m good at fulfi lling a bridge function but I’m also confronted with a world that’s more or less unfamiliar, like developers and real estate people. I wonder how long I can do this. It’s a pretty strange world. (14_136) Defi ning his position as a bridge function makes it possible to deal with the “strange world.” At the same time, it confronts him with new dilemmas. To justify his top position, he refers to his youth and the public function of soccer. This, however, appears to be insufficient to make him feel comfortable in the world of developers and real estate. This discomfort when dealing with ambition and the world that can accompany this quality is totally foreign to another respondent. This man works as director of an event planning company, a result of “limitless ambition,” a part of the culture in his childhood home. His father, who had

132 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility worked in a baked goods factory as a baker, attributed his own ambition to his farming background: Looking back there was definitely the push from my parents: ambition, perseverance, no whining. And till now, this boundless ambition has never left me. It was clearly a product of my home. (. . .) my character is typified by a great deal of ambition, giving it all I’ve got and never giving up: always reaching goals. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. (15_12–14) This is clearly a combination of personal inclination—he later mentions a genetic tendency, as his brother and sister share this ambition—and the “push from home” that constantly inspire him to take the lead: This may have to do with Father’s upbringing, at least his milieu. A farmer is also an entrepreneur. My father once had a shop that went bankrupt and then he went to work in the factory. (15_70) Notably, regarding both qualities, ambition and his entrepreneurs’ attitude (thus risk taking), he goes back to his father’s farm origin and the entrepreneurship involved. The only other respondent with serious thoughts about private business was an orthopedic surgeon whose parents had owned a franchise grocery store. I work with patients in sports and my relatively long waiting list is very frustrating. This is, in part, because I’m pretty well known, but it’s also poor efficiency in hospitals. ( . . . ) I have a business plan and the insurance companies want to offer me a long-term contract, so I still have ambitions. ( . . . ) I don’t see myself as an entrepreneur; I’m not businesslike. This is due to uncertainty and a questioning if I can really do it and what I’d be getting into. This is something I think about: maybe I’m not the only one. ( . . . ) but it still appeals to me and if I talk about it I get positive reactions and that’s naturally flattering. Of course, I’m a little vain (said humorously). (31_74–76) It is quite natural that both uncertainty and positive feedback are components of business and risk taking. Still, it is striking to note that as soon as actual entrepreneurship is at issue, a small business background comes to light. But just as striking is the personal uncertainty as regards ambition.

Concurrence of Circumstances Another participant, a psychologist, both of whose parents had workingclass origins, had a minimum of ambition after attaining his degree. He landed in a research project to stimulate educational opportunities for disadvantaged children. He later became director of a foundation:

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Getting the job as director was purely procedural. It was my job to secure the project’s continuation and ( . . . ) a legal person was necessary for funding. (16_76) A job as administrator for the education department of a major city followed. He, however, remained faithful to his original ambition: At least, that is, to a big extent ( . . . ) I’ve been involved with migrants and the part of municipal guidelines that deal with education and policy for underprivileged groups: especially, language issues for immigrants ( . . . ) I’ve witnessed every policy shift there’s been. (16_78) Despite a logical progression to his story, with evidence that he has remained faithful to his original mission, his sketch nonetheless reveals a concurrence of circumstances of sorts and an adequate response to these. Through his work on the edge of immigration and education he found entrance to international circles: At the department, I fi rst dealt with immigration organizations and later got more involved with international projects; the international work steadily became the main focus. I am now coordinator for the department’s international work ( . . . ). The department’s scope has thus grown extensively: youth policy, welfare, integration, participation, as well as international projects and networks. We have 130 European cities as members, where big-city issues are handled extensively. I’ve chaired its education committee for three years now. (16_59) This is a career with an obvious connecting thread and one that has certainly progressed under the sign of inclusion. And though the transitions appear consistent and the respondent remains true to his initial ideal, from which faithfulness to his beginnings are revealed, he never once mentions the question of a planned career. Instead, information is divulged of a man who knows what he does and does not want, what he can make use of, and someone who has chosen wisely. This is moreover an individual that continues to take rational steps forward, without defined aims in advance. Ultimately and above all, it is the circumstances that have worked in his favor.

Perfectionism, Manual Labor and Ambition The respondent who went from a seminary to the school of social work to enroll in a program for social studies and finally got a doctorate had at the time of the interview worked for more than twenty years as a researcher for the department of justice. In the previous chapter we could see his account of having experienced a great deal of luck in life (typified as a “golden ticket”). All he had to do was jump on board. The style in which

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he manifests himself at work and how he is perceived by colleagues are the result of concentrated determination and specific “social behavior”: This, combined with real effort, has given me what I have. ( . . . ) It’s been through hard work and maximum determination and concentration. ( . . . ) I have a sort of social behavior . . . very direct, verbally, and body language (though not emotional), I believe, but honest. People might not always be charmed by my style but they know that what they see is what they get: honest to the max. They see that we can get things done. This is the general consensus—at least this is how I think others see me. (18_38) The ambition of this researcher is to perform meticulous research and the dynamics of the research is the decisive factor. He has little fondness for extensive planning and long-term directives. Research has to be stimulating, and when I asked whether this attitude was a remnant from seminary life, he answered: It could be. I don’t think I’m so special, though what I hear from different people is “No one but you could do this.” It costs me an enormous amount of energy and it gives me tremendous pleasure, and, at face value, there’s nothing exceptional to it. Still, it’s very exciting to do really good work, with each undertaking. ( . . . ) I always strive for perfection and ( . . . ) as a working-class kid you were always at a disadvantage ( . . . ) you didn’t really belong. (18_40) He views this aim for perfection and originality as more of a response to the boredom of the seminary than a symbolic transcendence of his working-class background. The consequence is maintaining high standards for others as well as for himself: Without the slightest qualms, my PhD supervisor was able to cross out entire pages of my draft. Entire chapters! He told me, “It’s passable but it just doesn’t hit the mark. Start again.” I broke down and cried. I must’ve been forty or forty-two at the time. Q: So you’re saying: I welcome someone frustrating me if I can just understand why. A: Exactly. It’s OK to say, “Get rid of that garbage, focus on strengths and go on from there.” There’s also a pedagogical and decent approach but you have to have the courage to want to be among the best. (18_44–47) Wanting to deliver excellence is a serious matter. The fact that this is more important to him than to most has to do with the message relayed at home: life’s rewards don’t fall in your lap. It takes effort:

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There were no options in our family. There was one way and one way only. This also applied to religious teachings and sexuality. Everything was one-dimensional and you had to work really hard to reach it. My mother never did anything else. ( . . . ) You always had to be prepared to push to the limit. (18_72) In a following section we can see how he uses the metaphor of a skater to compare his laborious work style to the elegant living and work styles of his colleagues from higher classes. His admiration, mixed with surprise, does not contribute to an acceptance of how things usually work in the world of university research. A higher status and position must be earned and consistent to aspiration for quality: I’ve taught my children not to think of people in terms of above or beneath you; I address everyone with the same informal style. Sometimes people say (mimicking a tone of admiration), “He’s a professor!” So what? Let’s see what he can do. My wife tells me, “You’re always rebelling against people from higher classes.” That’s something I’ve taken from my own milieu. I never base my manner on someone’s status; but maybe on some deep level I do and won’t admit it. Still, if you’ve got quality, you’ve got it! (18_68–70) When asked about elaborate planning to achieve his career, he answers: Oh, Lord, I have to deny it but that doesn’t mean I’m not as ambitious as hell. But I’ve never planned anything—I simply don’t plan! To the dismay of those around me, of course ( . . . ) in a certain sense it’s inexcusable, and certainly in an official setting, where people are dependent on me, this can upset them. Even though I have to agree with them I can’t fi nd the emotional resources to change. I do what I can and I ask for their support and help. But in the end I do what I think I have to do. Lack of planning is a central issue in my life. (18_74) Work and ambition clearly overlap in this respondent’s life, and, consistently spurred by both, he creates a chaotic career that bureaucratic structures cannot control. But ultimately, quality is the guiding principle, aided by painstaking effort and professionalism.

On the Sidelines Respondents who graduated in the beginning of the eighties experienced difficulties fi nding work. For some, this was a reason to tackle another study, while others persevered and continued job-hunting, against all odds. One new graduate, with a degree in German, wanted to teach, as the job provided status, security and a contract. Under the circumstances, the fact

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that he had been unemployed for six months was considered short under the circumstances. This was especially the case if you were of the view that concessions, which compromised professional goals, were unacceptable: I was incredibly motivated and so it was a rude awakening. I was eager to work and wanted to start without delay and, in any case, in a position that I had some affinity with; but I ended up at the unemployment office with everyone and his brother. Not that I thought I was better than the rest—not at all. You were just lumped together with everyone else who was jobless at that moment. You had to come with a pay slip if you’d earned anything on the side and if you were lucky you got 700 guilders. I lived with someone then and I’d had a student loan ( . . . ). I had to pay every cent of it back, which I didn’t mind, understanding it was paid for by society. But then I saw that people on welfare were doing studies. That was also possible. (12_77) Besides financial pressure, unemployment brought humiliation and a drop in status. No one was asking for financial dependency and having to justify every single move. Everything that had been achieved through the study, expertise and self-esteem, was shattered. In addition, it appeared that school management had other criteria in mind than being qualified for the job: Their concern, of course, was what the applicant would tell the students if hired. Education itself wasn’t even an issue. I had to go before a wise persons’ committee of twelve, who all were about sixty or so. They interrogated me with cigars in their mouths about religious matters and not how you thought about applying didactic skills to effectively teach German. (12_83–85) At the end he found a job as German teacher, but fate was less favorable to others. One respondent ended up on welfare in a “work experience project” sponsored by social services. She had focused earlier on educational work for museums, only to be confronted with the reality that those who had been trained by way of the museum world had preference: I discovered then that I was capable of a lot more than I had realized. My central interest during my study had been pedagogy but you also acquired a lot of other skills in the meanwhile that can be applied, one way or the other, and I really enjoyed the coordinating and organizing. I really put in an effort into finding work that year. (. . .) The project ended after thirteen months and then it was someone else’s turn. (5_115) She considered her participation in the project a success as it had led to the discovery of an unknown quality in herself, namely an organizational talent.

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This subsequently created a dilemma: pursue a job in education or approach the job market with her newfound talents in mind, though lacking official credentials. Necessity was behind the choice for the latter. And a long career as secretary and office manager in various organizations had begun leading to a position in foster care. She finally returned to her original profession but not as initially intended. The combination of her once-acquired pedagogical professional knowledge and her actual management-supporting function is a source of both acceptance and inner conflict: In my field, when a child has problems in a foster family it is quite acceptable to remove the child from this family. My feeling is that the child already has attachment problems and a new placement somewhere else only makes it worse. Even if the situation in the foster family isn’t ideal, I feel the foster family should be given some support. ( . . . ) So much misery could be avoided with preventative measures; but that’s not what scores. (5_127) The following is the natural response to such expert argumentation from the office manager: Q: A:

Have you ever felt the desire to move into a position where you could exercise influence? No. That’s impossible. Everyone is labeled. I wish that I had been surer of myself and could do more. I’ve overcome a lot but somehow the unconfident, shy little girl is still there. I’m not a good debater and I always avoid getting into them. My arguments are clear in my mind and I can express them on paper but face-to-face I’m helpless. I get stuck. (5_127–129)

What she says here is that because she feels more or less an outsider, even as an expert she lacks the daring or confidence to offer professional recommendations. Her professional opinion is clear but timidity and fear of debate are obstacles to manifest as an expert. Her reference to the “shy little girl” is an expression of a familiar feeling in professionals at the beginning of their careers (see Chapter 2). The question, however, is whether she never had the opportunity to overcome this fear due to her difficult start, or if it is the fear itself acting as the barrier to aspiration for a job as trained professional. We will examine this in the next chapter. It took quite a lot of time before a respondent with a degree in English was able to fi nd work. The skills learned (repairing bikes, plumbing and carpentry) in programs for the unemployed did not provide sufficient challenge. She was feeling quite desperate but absence of encouragement, from her personal network, to search for a job suited to her qualifications was typical of the mood of the times:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I had no idea which direction to take or what to do. I was so uncertain and didn’t have a clue what to do with my life. It had just ended with my boyfriend. On top of that, there was not exactly a widespread work ethic, at least not in my circles. I lived in a group home with a bunch of people doing the same kind of things, which didn’t include work or salary. It was not unusual at the time to go straight to the welfare office as soon as you’d gotten your master’s degree. There was no real fi nancial stimulus to take whatever came your way. It just wasn’t done. You only accepted work that fit your qualifications. You didn’t accept factory work. (19_83)

This was a group moving in circles, with a limited work ethic and little fi nancial need to work. Living in times with an unbalanced labor market, in combination with a lifestyle where people were, above all, self-centered, was, in retrospect, not favorable to stimulating activities aimed at career building. With some help from her sister, this respondent found a job as a secretary. And despite the discomfort about the position, she enjoyed her job and took her fi rst step in a life of work: The fact that I was viewed with a certain regard because I was working—the whole process of getting up on time with all the others, employed and traveling to work, and sitting behind a desk—it was all very satisfying. (19_89–92) The uncertainty of unkept promises was compensated for by the intellectual baggage from the pre-university high school program, a university education and an academic title. All served to help this young woman from the working class grow into a secretarial job: I grew into the job. I even ran my own office during a project and then moved on to a departmental office. ( . . . ) I’m currently an executive secretary, a very independent function. For the past few years I have done the job of correcting all the English texts. I took this responsibility on my own initiative. (19_101) This is the moment to ask the inevitable question about ambition: I had none. But this was also due to feeling unsure of myself, that I couldn’t do it. This is something I trace back to where I’m from. ( . . . ) My father would’ve liked me to end up teaching in a pre-university program. He mentioned it often. Q: But you never did? A: ( . . . ) Again, I thought I couldn’t do it. That feeling of being unable still plays a role. ( . . . ) I’m only starting and I’m fifty-two

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but feel more confident. It’s taken a while but I attribute it to where I come from. (19_112–116) What we see in the first place is how she attributes her lack of ambition to her lacking confidence and her feeling that she can’t cope with an academic career. But even more remarkable is that she feels that the idea to teach in a pre-university program was her father’s, not her own. Just as other respondents, she feels it easier to exercise her professionalism from the sidelines while gaining confidence in herself. Considering the degree, the drive, the obtained knowledge and the improved self-confidence, a directorship could be the following step: I truly admire people who reach their potential: those who get their degree and have a position on their own level: and certainly women! To me it’s unbelievable to have it in you to have the nerve to do it. Responsibility scares me: really. My oldest sister is director of a small organization and she tried to move up to something better but she’s also always struggling with the weight of responsibility. (. . .) It’s always easier to complain about what doesn’t work. My father kicked against everything his whole life and we kids all do it too. It’s easier than saying that you can do it better and having to prove you can. That’s not who I am. I can prove myself on a lower level but not on a higher one and never academic. I can’t imagine it. My credentials say that I can’t and that’s what’s so strange. (19_126–132) At issue here is responsibility provoking fear and loss of confidence, which she associates with a trait of her father, who as a union leader led of life of resistance and passed this on to her. As she sees it, resistance against a boss is simpler than carrying responsibility. It is notable that she expresses more about this inability than that of her comfortable and familiar (to her) attitude of opposition. While the theme for the respondent cited above is reflection and a certain surprise, another respondent categorically refuses to accept a job with supervisory responsibilities. Unwilling to be taunted by wealthy fellow students, following primary school she had refused to enter the highest pre-university program. At sixteen she went to work as a secretary and, following her son’s birth, she stayed at home to care for him. Seven years later, she felt a need for more in life and embarked on a law study. When she received her degree at the age of forty-one, the economy had entered a dip, limiting her employment chances. It is remarkable that her degree failed to expand her perspectives and that her ambition level stood still, aimed at a subordinate and supporting function. The combination of the fi nancial burden of her study, the fact that a law practice was not an option, her objective—a part-time job due to her home situation, and her age were limiting factors. After years of job searching, she got a job at an organization for victims’ rights and advocacy. She says of her job:

140

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I wasn’t enthusiastic about combining full-time work with my home responsibilities. ( . . . ) I spent more time in meetings than that I actually worked. (21_31)

The distinction she makes between meetings and work is apparent. Even though she gives no indication that she believes meetings are not to be qualified as work, she implies a division between genuine and bogus work. In any event, her function as coordinator is clarifying: I discovered that I wasn’t equipped to be in a supervising position. It just wasn’t in me. I had never learned to do it. I’m an individualist by nature and I had to work with volunteers. They needed motivation and a pat on the head and I could do that. But when it came to writing reports, I didn’t involve them. (21_32) She fi nally reached a decision: In the meanwhile, I was forty-five and resigned to just forget about the career. I just didn’t want it any more. I have a low-level job now as a telemarketer in a software company. (21_23–26) The choice for an operational job is a clear one. She is satisfied and it offers social as well as practical benefits: I’ve got so many nice colleagues. We shut the door behind us and do what we want. Enjoying work is more important than having a career. My other colleagues are overqualified too. There are women with school-aged children and the boss is OK with them not coming in during school vacations. We start at ten forty-five. My husband is disabled and I have to help him in the morning. If you come to work late, it’s OK to compensate and stay later, another time. (21_76) Still, there is the recollection of the promises of what could have been. She continues to believe she can do better than the managers and career personnel: I know that I could do better than our current office manager. ( . . . ) When I fi rst got here, I had a colleague ( . . . ) who tried to confront others with their responsibilities. If she noticed, for example, that they hadn’t prepared a quote for customers, she’d get really mad. She thought they’d wasted her time but, as far as we were concerned, we’d done what we could and it was her problem, not ours. (21_70–74) She too rejects responsibility but what she demonstrates is that this is in the name of solidarity with her colleagues on the work floor.

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Women and Their Careers Career and Motherhood A respondent who had trouble fi nding a job began another study, though the search involved quite some time. After a year, she decided—as a stay of execution, of sorts—to enroll in the philosophy department at another university, but she was uncertain: I ( . . . ) was part of the feminist movement but really just to get women’s studies in the curriculum there. But in reality I was clueless as to what I wanted to become: psychologist or philosopher. (28_142) In order to resolve the confl ict, therapy was needed, which had immediate results. I had already turned thirty-two when I got a job in mental health: psychiatry. (. . .) It was a residential therapeutic community and I was a therapy assistant—unpaid. I had to teach to earn money but you could learn a lot in the community. (. . .) You grew in the meanwhile; I got lots of experience and followed theory courses; in the evening, I had feedback sessions. A lot of my salary was spent on these activities. (28_144) She had met her future husband in the interim and they found themselves faced with the theme—and at the same time dilemma—of whether or not to have children. I thought it had to be motherhood, now or never. That has got to do with my background. I was afraid if I started too early, I’d ruin my own chances. My sister had her fi rst when she was twenty. I had no desire ( . . . ) but then again ( . . . ) I only dared to get pregnant after getting a permanent contract. And as soon as I got one, I became pregnant. The human resource manager came to my section to let me know: “This wouldn’t be the fi rst time we’ve had a psychologist with kids, and it didn’t work out well, at all. Every time a child was sick, she didn’t come in.” ( . . . ) I wanted to have a career fi rst and if possible then have kids, and not the other way around. I didn’t want to lose control. (28_145) In the beginning of the 1980s, pregnancy was a much greater risk to a successful career than it is now. This is not only evident by the human resource manager’s harsh words but also in light of the reality of structural job insecurity at the time. And in this case, a working-class background had its price: protecting job security is the fi rst and foremost priority. This is an attitude of playing it safe and at the same time creating guarantees for independence. A permanent contract is the only alternative.

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This nightmarish—and, as she sees it, neurotic—focus on independence was inspired by the destiny of working-class women. It reflected the almost structural fear that the guarantee for existence could, at any moment, be undermined. And then I could have fun (said with a smile) and concentrate on my own needs. That was the fear of the other women too: getting married young, having kids and then it’s over. And that’s how it was back then. Your role in society was over. And this was my idea about the women from the milieu I come from. (28_154–156) By fi rst securing her livelihood and then her independence, she succeeded, on the one hand, in transcending the structural position of working-class women. On the other hand, an additional condition was essential in order to succeed: namely, her desire for children would have to depend on integrating the significance of a secure livelihood in her personality: And once they were there, I felt that this was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. But if it would’ve happened ten years earlier ( . . . ) well, it didn’t; I had to be sure it couldn’t. It was clear that otherwise everything I’d worked for would have gone down the drain; that why I had to wait. I needed a social anchor. (128_158) Her ambition was triggered during her psychotherapy studies. As to my question regarding eventual plans for a managerial function, she responded: No. I have no desire to be in charge because I just can’t do it. I have no talent for relating to people in a lower position. It was like that when I worked in the care facilities. Once, I went out for drinks with some nurses from my fi rst job—it was the beginning of the egalitarian movement—after I’d been there for a couple of weeks. One of them suggested we put our salaries together and redistribute the money. I was in shock. (28_173–178) Just as we have seen from earlier respondents, ambition is not dependent on achieving a senior position. In a professional context, ambition is instead defi ned as and linked to independence and the rejection of authority. Aspiring for Security as Primary Incentive Safeguarding work and livelihood created a bumpy road in the career course of another respondent. After completing a university preparatory program, she studied laboratory technology. And though this was based more on chance than choice, in hindsight she saw it as an adequate preparation for her career in microbiology, fi rst performing the operational work,

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then acquiring life experience, and lastly, science. But before reaching that point she had worked in chemical labs for diverse employers. In the meantime, she had studied biology. Following her degree she embarked on her doctoral study in microbiology. I had figured it out beforehand and found out that I wouldn’t suffer too much financially if I did the doctorate program. (. . .) I also asked about the rules for maternity leave and said I didn’t want a full-time job or have to spend eighty hours a week, so instead of five days for four years, four days for five. They agreed. This is how I worked towards my doctorate. I became pregnant somewhere in-between; this included maternity leave and such. I finally got my degree ten years later. (8_91) Hence, her research project seemed more like a practical solution rather than the start of an academic career. What is more, her story emphasizes negotiations and employment terms and tells us little about the content and goals of her research and its perspectives for the future. Once her project was completed she was unemployed and—in order to be eligible for unemployment—she was required to apply for work, including work she was overqualified for. As a consequence of working as a replacement due to maternity leave, she fi nally found a position as a specialized consultant in a university library. In a certain sense, this job was the answer to both unemployment and livelihood security. And although it affords her the opportunity to utilize her knowledge and expertise, it is nevertheless beneath her competence level.

6.3

PROFESSIONALISM, LEADERSHIP AND PRIVATE ENTERPRISE

A few themes that have had key meaning for the shape and course of these individuals’ careers and ambitions have been explored in previous narratives. We have seen that ambition is particularly rooted in the content of work and its associated profession. It is salient that this ambition is in a constant state of growth and is manifested in relation to challenges in consecutive circumstances. In some cases this leads to perfectionism and in others to “calling from the sidelines.” The commonality among these individuals is an almost nonexistent desire to manage others. It appears as if the accent on professionalism primarily serves to achieve autonomy.

Professionalism is the Essence Professionalism is more than actions based on skill and expertise. It is also the attitude from which an individual can speak with authority and is able to avoid superfluous ballast. This ballast can consist of talk that is experienced as useless. High-level management is also experienced as

144 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility ballast—more than now and then. The respondents are interested in the essence of issues; this calls for effort and quality, and everything else is of secondary importance: The problem—and I don’t hesitate call it a problem—is that it’s just about impossible to deliver the quality you strive for, within the window of time you’ve planned. This is my failing as well as my biggest quality, by far; and there’s not a second that I don’t think about how vital the planning is. As I see it, you keep going till you can give at least the minimum of what is up to standard. And if it doesn’t go according to plan, then I hear about it. They’re right then to complain, but I can’t handle more. (18_90) This is a psychological matter of sorts. Providing quality is the norm. The demands of publicity and from official circles are not relevant. Another respondent overtly separates professionalism from institutions. And institutions are a threat to what can serve to enhance his professionalism in combination with experience from his background. As a teacher of senior general secondary education he establishes that his colleagues cannot muster the slightest interest in student’s backgrounds: I used want to be a forest ranger. Why? I guess it less about the forest and more to avoid having to work for institutions. ( . . . ) There is so much bull and stupidity that has to be carried out. Even now, it’s not the teaching in itself: I love to teach. But I also have mentorships, and you have to work with a whole legion of social workers and educational managers, who tell you how you have to deal with people. It drives me crazy. I might be arrogant but I think it’s so stupid, so incredibly stupid that I can’t even take it seriously. Sitting at meetings and listening to that idiocy ( . . . ) and then adopting it as policy and following guidelines, while I’m thinking that so many of these kids have backgrounds similar to mine. I can communicate with them. I know what they think and feel. (3_149) This rejection of institutionalized support for children touches what he experiences as the essence of being a teacher: seeing students for what they are, in light of where they come from. This is tied to his own background; he knows the world and has a kinship with his students. He also understands what it means to be “seen” by a teacher and this is a bonus of his professional acts as a teacher. And these, in his view, are contrary to the approach of his colleagues, for whom professionalism is above all exercised through discussion and meetings. In addition they channel their insensitivity in value judgments. This is similar to the distinction between “genuine” and “bogus” work that another respondent spoke of, when she reported how attending meetings posed an obstacle to her real job. A German teacher

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believes that the continuing reform of the educational system threatens authentic professionalism of the teaching profession. In his view, imparting knowledge is the essence of the teaching profession and not skill training and coaching students. We also meet an aversion to the notion that discussion is central to professionalism, when a cardiologist tells the story of why he decided against becoming a general practitioner: I wanted to help people but not only by babbling, ( . . . ) to really do something to make people happy: to actually make a difference in their health. Counseling couples in a bad marriage or convincing obese people that they should lose weight was frustrating. The marriages stayed bad and the obese stayed fat. ( . . . ) After this study, cardiology seemed like a really good mix. ( . . . ) and this has proved to be true. ( . . . ) After a heart attack and when life is suddenly in the balance, people are terrified. This fear is perceptible and if you patiently explain and reassure them that they will heal and function as before, this is gratifying. This is a concrete phenomenon and this is what I was looking for. (4_114–115) I encountered the same combination of concrete grievances and a humanitarian approach in a surgeon who had seen significant changes take place within the national healthcare system. One of the most recent changes he observed was an increase in female doctors, with certain consequences, as he explains: This will inevitably lead to another kind of medicine: one which moves more towards the humanities and steadily further from exact science. Q: Do you think this is a positive evolution? A: No, but I didn’t think the other approach was ideal either. I took the exact science course load in my pre-university high school program and I think both sides are important. If a doctor is only capable of compassion and guidance, he won’t do much good if he doesn’t know how to treat biliary colic. Pastoral work is admirable, of course, but the problem is gallstones. And someone who’s only equipped to deal with the biological aspects of illness forgets that he’s dealing with people. (17_107–109) He is unmistakably concerned about an attitude of dedication but with the realization that treatment of physical complaints needs specialized expertise. Guidance and talking is crucial but not the essence of the profession. He stresses the significance and superiority of medical skills in regard to the treatment of his schizophrenic son. As he sees it, in the modern treatment of psychoses, autonomous professional expertise has been overshadowed by formalization and bureaucracy:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I insisted that he needed treatment and had to be hospitalized. Their answer was they still needed to check off one more point (on the indication list) for hospitalization. ( . . . ) When I worked as a resident in psychiatry, it was perfectly normal to admit a patient in a psychosis. ( . . . ) What it came down to was that he would fi rst have to commit a criminal act or be committed by way of a court order. The “best will principle” no longer exists. This is the worst thing society can do. The psychiatric system has been criminalized. (17_83–85)

The doctor’s indignation should be seen apart from the discussion concerning the need and importance to hospitalize psychiatric patients and the emotional response to his son’s suffering. His anger is based on his conviction that the formalization and bureaucratization of healthcare is suppressing autonomous professional expertise.

Opposition to Bureaucracy and Managerial Thinking The doctor’s son’s illness, the emotional burden that went along with it and his hospital work were all sources of stress. Moreover, he had a reputation locally: I had a name for being a singular, contrary individual (laughs) who’s known to be at odds with hospital management. I had no problem with their efficiency and profitability principles, but only for the right reasons; as soon as it was counterproductive for my patients I refused to cooperate. (17_109) He would at times enter into authority confl icts with management, caused, for example, by operating room scheduling. Earlier on, he would schedule surgery with consideration to patients’ calendars. He felt this to be an essential part of the doctor-patient relationship. The appointment office does not consider patients’ circumstances. I considered the moment of admittance and length of stay as part of the doctor patient-relationship and thought the office had nothing to do with it. These were the unpleasant incidents and their attitude was to let me do whatever because I didn’t have long to go. (17_116) He felt that due to changes in hospital procedures his professional identity was compromised. He experienced the rigid scheduling and impossibility to confer with patients as a threat to the patient’s confidence in the doctor. In addition he became involved in meetings for a merger with another hospital: When you were off duty, you were expected to meet to discuss the merger and go to all kinds of goodwill dinners with colleagues from

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the other side, the board and management ( . . . ) and the hidden agendas. It infuriated me and (I) just didn’t want to do it anymore. The fi nal straw was when I realized how much I looked forward to weekend duty. I enjoyed work and didn’t have to go to meetings; I could do my rounds and talk to my patients. And if there was appendicitis, then I’d call the OR and within a half hour, the patient was on the table and I didn’t have to fi ll in five forms for this one and that one. I loved it; I could exercise my profession the way you’re supposed to. (17_124–126) Anticipating that his relationship with the board and management would not be repaired was a motive to request early retirement. It was, though, not only the disagreeable process surrounding the merger itself but also the rhetoric and disingenuousness meant to veil the construction, the hidden agendas, and the formalities that went along with it. But fi rst and foremost, it was the recognition that the only viable moment to work with authenticity was on the weekend. This attitude was based on the standards of professionalism and work ethic derived from the philosophy he adhered to. This eased the process of departure. Experiencing inspiration and ambition in work itself is also shared by the previously cited cardiologist. And for him this means that he feels well situated in the hospital. This, however, does not apply to the majority of my respondents. “Genuine work” is under pressure from managers and the professional is wedged between endless meetings and forms to fi ll. Healing patients can only be done in passing. Management is kind of a layer of hardened crust that has to be chipped away to get to the job at hand, but I guess that goes for you too. ( . . . ) Patient care is an annoying detail and gets in the way of the organization. The entire emphasis has shifted to the overall picture and you can’t arrange anything without endless debate and paperwork. (4_158) From the perspective of these doctors, contemporary thought about management and bureaucracy as a guarantee for quality of care serves to undermine their professionalism. The (older) surgeon and the (younger) cardiologist experience this more acutely than the (still younger) ophthalmologist, but there is concordance of basic views. The question here is the meaning—based on social origin—attached to professional identity, within a context that they believe is fundamentally threatening to the meaning. Their stories refer to management as the carriers and representatives of the bureaucracy that has gradually but surely struck. In this sense management is given a symbolic negative meaning. This meaning should not be confused with the function of superiors. Although my respondents do not always make a distinction in terminology, there is a distinction in attitude towards superiors and management.

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Leadership Only one respondent had had a career with a distinctively supervisory function. For the others, supervisory functions were simply part of their position and course of development. One interviewee was the son of a shepherd and had worked for various offices of the national Child Welfare Council. He was hired at the council following a career as a marine telegraph operator. It was my job to supervise the typists, two women—still girls, actually—and the files. I was foreman but worked alongside the others, of course. At a certain point I had to receive people during visiting hours (for clients). I had no insight in the material whatsoever but that was something to be learned. That’s how it went. ( . . . ) I was building custodian for a while. Those were good times. You had the space to do a lot. (23_23) His responsibilities grew, and at a certain point he enrolled in university to study law. He got his degree and was offered a job at the council that was compatible with his education: unit manager. He was then sent to locations in other cities, where he worked as location manager (and later director) until his early retirement. This story illustrates a down-to-earth attitude and an aversion to pointlessness. His answer to the question of the key to his success was unambiguous: a matter-of-fact approach, respect for others, cordiality and flexibility towards rules: You have to involve people. ( . . . ) Otherwise you can’t motivate them. It’s important to speak to them politely and with respect. This was not the style in the Marines, where the approach was not cordial but you knew exactly where you stood. Sometimes people have a huge need to know where they stand. And you also have to do something special for them now and then. ( . . . ) I’m pretty technical and more geared towards the operational side. There were moments that I would’ve preferred the facilities instead of all that nonsense but sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done. (23_38–39) A professor had been faculty dean for four years. He loved the job but had had enough. He had rejected the idea of becoming university president, in no uncertain terms. The positive features of his position as dean were the contacts and the cooperative aspects, including international cooperation. But he had had misgivings: In those days we still had faculty councils. These consisted of all these doctors, who in fact were no longer involved with education. They were only occupied with research and knew every rule inside

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and out. ( . . . ) I remember telling them: “If you want me to manage here, you’ll have to give me the chance and stop hounding me with all your damned rules, because it only holds things up. But four years later and I’d had it; it had been just long enough and I was happy I could go back. ( . . . ) My wife said, “You’ve got two jobs,” because I’d be given a huge pile of paper every two weeks, Thursdays and Fridays, with a note inside wishing me a good weekend, and I was expected to have it read by Monday. It was all policy decisions written in a language that would make me realize that it was not my world. But of course I had to put in a serious effort for the faculty. (27_77) He reproaches the “doctors, who in fact were no longer involved with education”—in other words, university administrators by profession—nonproductive, who by way of policy regulations act to obstruct the essence of professionalism. Language usage is also a cause of estrangement and disincentive. But contrary to the previous respondent, his managerial function was incidental. Rooted in a sense of duty he exercised the task and was more than willing (in time) to return to his “real work.” The respondent, a lecturer at a university of applied sciences, who at the same time is a researcher at a university and teaches at still another, is also familiar with the fear of a managerial position and offers the following clarification: I’m also afraid of taking up too much space and stifl ing others. In a way I feel that that’s what my mother did to me. But this has more to do with the mother-daughter relationship then my working-class background. (1_103) She also relates her fear to family history, namely with her mother’s childrearing approach. Due to the experienced behavior, she associates her mother with power and oppression. While she struggles with these feelings, she observes that others have a different attitude: I meet people (in leadership functions) who as far as I can tell don’t worry about such things and just take the space they need without a second thought. That has to do with how much room you allow yourself. Not knowing how to act and fearing that you might go too far and lack the skills to do it right is an obstacle for leadership. It’s not a natural position then. (1_105) Her fear is overplaying her hand but there is something essential in question: leadership is not a natural quality in her case and not something to desire. Therefore, her preference is to remain on a lower level—for example, as a coach:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility I can do my research in cooperation with teachers. I’m good at working in a coaching role, being supportive and giving gentle pushes. This is what I enjoy. But the business that goes along with it, like fighting for your position as lecturer at the university, lobbying, and contact with the board, does not come naturally to me. (At this university) I function very well in the second slot besides someone else. ( . . . ) I’m happy to leave fighting for space and determining boundaries to others so that I can function within that space. I have chosen for the second position and it’s my choice to stay in my comfort zone and do what I know and not go for the challenge of overseeing others. (1_106–110)

Fighting institutional structures and confronting subordinates is felt by this respondent as unnatural and out of character. She only feels comfortable in the number-two position. And above all, she is unable to resolve the dilemma between the position of being in a superior position and solidarity with her subordinates: This has to do with the fact that I don’t like to impose “my thing” on others. The choice for a position like that is not natural because it would feel like that’s what I’d have to do, even though it could be explained as providing a framework where people can function. You have to speak another language that’s not my native tongue—a language I don’t master. (1_112) It is apparent that she typifies the language of the ones in charge as “not my native tongue.” The objective is learning another language that was not acquired at home. Language, however, is an instrument of socialization regarding values and attitudes, and the native language can dominate in these areas. In a professional atmosphere, values such as solidarity bring an individual further than in a managerial atmosphere. Most striking is her description of a supervisory position as imposing something that is actually hers onto others—in other words, forcing her interests. On the other hand, she recognizes that management includes “providing a framework where people can function.” But this is not her fi rst or a spontaneous association. A psychotherapist does not want a managerial function. In the fi rst place she does not have the ability to work with those in a subordinate position. This also applies to those from the lower classes, which she reproaches herself for but she cannot deny it: I’m afraid that they’ll think I’m arrogant ( . . . ) and look down on them. Wouldn’t it be a kind of betrayal of your own class if you behave arrogantly to others from a lower class? I believe it’s like that. It’s as if I’d feel ashamed about keeping them down, when I come from the same place. (28_178–186)

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She sees this emotional chain reaction in relationship to her background, and thus reveals one possible complex emotional reaction associated with relationships with subordinates. On the other hand, there is clearly a battleground feel to her relationship with superiors; they trigger the sense that one is not recognized and respected. It’s really important to me that I’m recognized: that I’m doing a good job, or I’ve got good ideas. The woman who’s my boss now and I are like fire and water (. . .). I’ve learned to bite my tongue, time and time again. She calls me negative and I just say I’m critical. And then she gets nasty. (Another superior) showed that I was respected for my qualities. I understand my need for recognition that I’m capable. I recently wrote an article and the group I work with told me, “You do that so well.” That was just what I needed to hear. Our director is a psychiatrist and she thinks she’s an expert on everything and knows everything better. She overestimates herself and doesn’t listen to other’s views. (28_212–223) Despite the apparent battlefield with its rituals of nastiness and tongue biting, criticism or negativity (depending on rank), on an emotional level this woman stills wants the approval of her superior despite her knowledge that the woman overestimates herself and is a poor listener. Moreover, the respondent does not even have much regard for her superior’s expertise. Once again, an illuminating reference to background follows: (She is coming) from higher class: so she talks, so she thinks and so she is sitting ( . . . ). Some are more down to earth and I get along better with them. (28_225) She experiences the contrast between wanting to be in charge and professional expertise. It is ultimately all about expertise, and experts should have the ability to exercise another form of directing: We just spoke about wanting to be the boss. But now that I’m older and have a (professional) supervisory position, I feel very comfortable with younger colleagues. That is a really positive aspect and naturally very safe (she sighs). I still have a problem with my boss; I’ve had problems with all my bosses. (28_219) The question of whether it is meaningful to establish a link between leadership and class background will be treated subsequently. Still, the way in which this respondent has undergone the experience is apparent. She too speaks of the contrast between the demands of professionalism and the meaning of leadership in this framework. But she offers at the same time a glimpse into the complex individual emotions that play a role in the relationship between superiors and subordinates.

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6.4

COMMUNICATION RELATED TO AND AT WORK

Relationships and Networks The same mechanism of respondents’ wanting to be recognized and respected in regard to professionalism, which plays a crucial role in perception of the relationship with superiors, also applies to colleagues. According to one respondent, if confl icts exist they are certainly related to this aspect, but also to the powerlessness to maintain the “professional” distance regarding this lack of recognition. When asked about her relationship with colleagues, a lecturer in a professional university says: It’s hard for me to be diplomatic and calm when there are disagreements. This has to do with not feeling seen. I’m not good at this game and don’t know how to act strategically and negotiate to benefit in the long run. I took a conflict personally and was unable to maintain professional distance and let the overall interest take precedence. (1_116–117) The obstacles relayed are lack of knowledge of the game of strategy and diplomacy as well as the ability to distinguish between what is personal and what is not. You can learn diplomacy but it is not an inherent quality. Also at play is strategically adjusting ambitions without taking confl icts personally. A university teacher, a philosopher who never attained a professorship, offers what he calls the easy and the difficult answers: It’s easy enough to conclude that in my area there are very few professorships. The response could then be that I could’ve gone abroad, which would not have been simple because my wife’s is a psychotherapist, and (it would be) difficult to do the job in another language, so not an option. That was the easy answer but there’s obviously more to it. (. . .). I think that a professorship depends on a good social network and I don’t have one. I do have a social network but not one that can help here. (. . .) I know the right people but not in the right way. Let’s say that a professorship is available, I can imagine that I’d contact those people but do it in the wrong manner: sound too eager or too quickly get to the point and say something like “I guess you know why I’m calling” before asking them how they are. You know, first buttering up and then slowly kneading and massaging and then saying, “By the way, did I hear right that there was an open position?” Rationally I know the rules but doing it (while being) emotionally correct is a subtlety, I think, and I’m just no good at it. (. . .) C’est le ton qui fait la musique.1 (6_53–57) This respondent knows that he neither had the skill to conceal his eagerness nor the refi nement to play the sophisticated strategic game of fawning,

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“kneading and massaging.” An appropriate emotional response is not part of his system, and, even more so, he fi nds it oppressive: (Sighs). There is so much going on between people—in those conversations. They just make me freeze. I understand that at that moment they’re making all kinds of deals. And then again that’s not what they’re doing, because they just keep on jabbering, including chatter over trivialities. And I think that even when they talk about trivialities, they have other things on their minds, their hidden agendas. But because they jabber so often with each other, it makes no difference if it’s at a reception or the next day, informally at work, or picking up where they left off, by phone, the same evening. I could never be relaxed enough about it so the cost of that all the effort to maintain the network would interfere with my work. (6_59) His last sentence expresses the central paradox of career development: networking costs too much time and energy to integrate it into work. It is not part of his sensibility, but on a rational level he understands that it is necessary for advancement: I’ve come to the point where I understand that playing games is part of it and not the biggest problem. It’s the way that people communicate. We assume—and I think it’s naive—that people communicate by talking; I think it’s the way that they look at each other. (6_63–66) Even though hidden agendas and nonverbal behavior are human phenomena, learning the codes and knowing how to decipher messages is not enough. Desire and ability to employ these are crucial. Even so, this is an emotional matter, and class of origin is a key factor: Speaking about social class, there’s a family who lives three doors down. They all play hockey (a sport traditionally for the upper classes) and they invited me for drinks, cocktails (said affectedly), the night before last. And the behavior that I witnessed there is not something handed to me at home, but I’m not envious. What you see there is overthe-top cocktail conduct. (6_68) The philosopher’s implicit message is that cocktail behavior symbolizes a polished, refi ned communication game that he has never learned to master. Another respondent, a director of an educational institution, does not feel at ease at receptions and attributes this to not having learned communication skills at home. Just because I am managing director does not mean that I can do and know everything. I bring people together who can complement me. I’m

154 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility not that communicative; this is not something I was taught at home, and I don’t mingle well at receptions. I’m adequate with external contacts but within bounds, unlike (the assistant director), who networks ( . . . ) naturally. (32_72) Networking and moving with ease in an environment with influential people are not easy skills to acquire later in life for those who have not learned these naturally, at home, even with the use of tactics. This woman sees a relationship with an explicit message, received in her upbringing. When she was dating a boy from higher class, her mother had emphasized the specific meaning of class difference: She would tell me: “You’ve got to understand that everyone is better than we are because we come from poverty and you should never forget it: You don’t mean much of anything.” So when I got married, I married above my stand and my mother said, “He’s a really sweet boy and you’re really lucky but don’t forget that you always have to get along with him because he knows how things are supposed to be.” (32_74)

Communication is the Question The most striking example of the relationship between networks and professional positions is illustrated by a surgeon’s experience. He ignored the communication codes and thus missed out on a university position: I was good at what I did and always strove for the highest attainable. Within the clinic structure, you were always expected to obey your superiors, and this also applied in the assistant’s hierarchy. ( . . . ) I didn’t pay much attention to it because I was hardly aware of its existence. There were a bunch of people there that couldn’t stand me. I was demanding and acted like I knew everything better and so on but I didn’t realize it myself. (17_158) His unfamiliarity with the communication codes in the world of surgeons could also at times be an advantage. It was said of him: ”He’s not restrained by any scruples, whatsoever.” And it was true; I didn’t have a clue about much. Social relationships, codes—you know. And there were times that without even realizing it I just plowed right through, so that I got things done when others had gotten stuck trying. ( . . . ) (The director of a clinic, looking for a surgeon) told me, “I wanted to get somewhere with this clinic and that’s why I hired you.” After numerous failed job applications, he concluded that he wasn’t smooth enough to wedge in between the reservoir of positions and professorships. He failed the last test terribly:

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What I was doing was much too ambitious. There were still a few hospitals left and I always ended among the top three when I’d applied. But then came the smarmy acquaintance phase: going to staff members’ homes for dinner, with the wives. That was the fi nal phase of a hiring process! The fi rst thing was job suitability, with three favorites, and then this. And then we ate dinner and they could watch to see if you held your cutlery correctly and observe your table manners ( . . . ) and all the indescribable codes. In (one town) everything went wrong; the topic of these staff members selling their billing administration to an orthopedic surgeon (this went against national policy) came up. They all wanted to hear what I thought about it. And I said, “That’s out of the question; this needs to be rectifi ed.” But they’d already had sizable amounts put away in their bank accounts because they’d sold it to an orthopedic surgeon! (17_159–161) He was not only being tested on his knowledge and attitude about fi nancial manipulation to verify how this could aff ect rapport. Other criteria played a role in another procedure: And then, there we were with a group at dinner: fi rst dry sherry and then a dry white wine—naturally, dry. And then the Lions came up and I was so naïve as to ask what the Lions were (laughs). Wrong again. But they didn’t let it show, of course. And then they found the son of a professor instead of me ( . . . ). He knew what the Lions were; he was a member. (17_162) His observation that they “didn’t let it show” is illustrative. From a social standpoint, he makes the perfect blunder but it is hard to prove if this was, in fact, the only reason for his rejection. From his point of view, the value of his professionalism was not enough to allow him the opportunity to perform a job in a university hospital: I had no sense of all the complexity of relationships. I came up against it and knew it was part of the picture; I also knew of the importance of belonging to the top. But I constantly failed to make it. But in reality, I didn’t care that much. I’d tell myself to accept it because it wasn’t worth the torment of getting there. (17_162) This indifferent attitude became his trademark. It was a combination of the tradition of his profession, in which he had been educated, along with skill and social marginality. It eventually brought him to a clinic in a provincial town, in the periphery, where he managed the educational program in the surgery department. After a few years it appeared that it was his social marginality that was instrumental in saving the department. It had been threatened by network intrigues in that hospital:

156 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility One of the internists was not about to cooperate, and appealed to acquired rights that didn’t exist and all that bullshit. It was clear that he had no interest in change. It was an impenetrable circle, an exclusive club. It reminded me of an elitist club that we didn’t want to join. It was in this atmosphere that tough measures had to be taken in order to save the department. And it was my job to do it. (17_166) It turned out to be a difficult route, and a national team of arbitrators fi nally consented to having the internist in question fi red because of his refusal to cooperate in establishing new study programs. This “exclusive club” had had an interest in preventing the removal of any of its members but my respondent was able to bring this process to an adequate close due to his outsider status. Different values and standards applied in the club but his strength was that they meant nothing to him at all: There was a closed world and a closed culture in that club and it hung over me for years. I was even told, “You ruined his life.” I wasn’t having any of it—“He should have been willing to communicate,” and so on. Someone else said, “Well, that might be true but he had to sell his second home; he couldn’t handle it fi nancially and that wasn’t very collegial of you.” My interest in that kind of collegiality had dropped to an absolute low at that point in time. His comment didn’t even faze me; I didn’t care anymore. (17_168–169) Everyday work situations are also settings where respondents experience the significance of other codes of communication. At a certain point, the question of simple ignorance of these codes becomes utter rejection: these are regarded as an obstacle to expert exercise of the profession. Although these codes are a hindrance to an insurance agency doctor, he does not take them seriously. From his point of view, the only threat they pose are to the objectivity of medical inspections (for sick leave benefits). I’ve never been initiated in the current codes of the medical world, with its concentration of hockey and golf types ( . . . ). I especially noticed it when we hired a new colleague, a nice guy, actually ( . . . ) but not the brightest. He came to work in a three-piece suit. I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He shook my hand and turned to the boss and said, “This must be the inspector (for work absenteeism).” “No,” answered my boss, “he’s going to show you the ropes here so you can get settled into the job.” That was a memorable moment. (10_58–59) The manner of presentation, within social exchange, is related to the mechanism of exclusion and stigmatization. This is corroborated by the consequences for professionalism. Even if there is an acceptance of the “style” of “that sort” of person, the tendency to jump to conclusions remains.

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There was a director at (a company), a real parvenu and a screamer without substance. That was the trigger to look for a new job after a couple of years. I also came across these types at (another company). You can clearly see the difference in people from a different social background though they didn’t pose that much of a problem for me. I just kept my distance and avoided confrontations. (11_52–53) This matter-of-factness is in sharp contrast to the more engaged attitude of the insurance agency doctor, but they share a basic outlook: the types mentioned are obstructive, from a social as well as professional standpoint, and they prefer to avoid them. Still, the liberty to circumvent the other social world with its specific codes is not always an option. The politician interviewed below, moves in the highest social circles and has learned the norms of social exchange. Still, he is aware of not having mastered these naturally: You come in contact with it so often that you’re no longer inhibited by an inner threshold telling you that you’re in the wrong place with the wrong behavior and constantly asking yourself what you can and can’t say. I think this bothered me a lot longer than people who were from that background. (14_96) Another respondent, a psychologist and director of a municipal department, with comparable experiences, explains that he has no talent for small talk: Even, for example, talking to (the mayor of a major city) is not what I do best. It has to be about something, straight to the point. Q: (That mayor) really emanates a sense of power. A.: Yes, he does, just like a wise old fairy-tale sovereign. He’s very friendly and a good listener but I never get around to discussing trivialities. Q: Do you sense his different class background? A: Yes, I do with him. I don’t feel that way about the local governors—I see them as equals—but these feelings come up with someone like the mayor. Q: (He) seems authentic to me. A: Definitely. And that makes it easier. You also have people who hide behind a facade and pretend to be something they’re not. Q: Are you better at detecting this than others? A: Usually. I’ve got a sense for it and this is a barrier to friendly chatting. (16_110–119) This respondent has no trouble whatever adequately discussing professional matters with the mayor in a direct fashion. His difficulty is with small talk.

158 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility The mayor’s conduct, referred to by the interviewee, reflects aristocracy and integrity and deviates from the associations with the so-called hockey and golf types. Still, he is more comfortable coping with these types because he has no expectations of them, either professionally or socially. A real understanding of their games, however, continues to be difficult.

Game Playing, Earnestness and Demeanor Those interviewed repeatedly report that they realize that they take work and life too seriously, unlike the “others” who see it as a game. One respondent has a simple clarification of this attitude and relates it to her past: I just can’t see it as a game when I should. ( . . . ) My mother was sent to work as a housekeeper when she was just fourteen and I have the impression she was sexually abused there. This is terrible and you transfer your feelings to your child that you want her to have a better life than you had. My father was from a family of about sixteen ( . . . ). And he fought in Indonesia: all very hard. They wanted me to be able to study so I’d have the better life they wanted for me. This is a serious goal and I never saw a study lightly or as a game. Well, to some extent now, but I was taught that this was earnest business: the call of duty. (1_121–122) This lecturer at a university of applied sciences refers to her personal history relating to a confl ict at work. She had responded personally to a matter and was unable to maintain professional distance. Despite the fact that the confl ict had to do with a discussion concerning a professional advantage based on her origin, she was aware that the problem was much deeper: I am not good at self-deprecating humor. And that can be a real problem. This also plays a role during confl icts at work. You have to be able to take things lightly and realize it’s not that serious. But this is not just work to me. I have to reach goals and prove myself. (1_124) A sociology researcher uses a metaphor to illustrate his own seriousness and inability to put things in perspective: See me as a pretty good skater but if someone sees me whizzing by, they’re bound to say, “You can tell he’s a showoff.” I can keep up with the middle class but it’s rough: the blades in the ice. A skater glides over the ice—that’s the art of it. Some do it effortlessly, with grace and style. But me, I plow on from early morning till late at night. I spend hours and hours on end. It’s fi xed in me: hard work and more hard work, but I do it with pleasure. (18_63)

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The question here concerns the aesthetics of the professional result. Hard work and effort also lead to results and even fulfi llment. Still, it makes a difference if this can be achieved with elegance and beauty. From this respondent’s perspective, those who approach work in such a way have this naturally ingrained in them through early exposure to culture and literature. A university lecturer had taken the step to begin an independent pharmaceutical research company, together with a colleague. This had certain advantages over a university job. Nevertheless, a private company is, in addition to its professional aspects, a business enterprise. It is precisely the business side of the project that confronts him with the need to develop a sense for the “game.” This is where the difficulties start: The world of business is not a nice one. It puts me off , more and more, when I hear someone say “Oh, I’ll just have my accountant take care of making a contract” (spoken affectedly). And then you read in the fi ne print that the payment agreement is, in fact, to our disadvantage and (my business partner) is furious and he calls the other party (who responds): “Oh, no. Is that in there? It’s got to go immediately ” That’s the sort of thing I have to deal with, and I don’t handle it well at all. I think this behavior is always unacceptable but that’s the way it goes in that world. ( . . . ) (My partner) can manage it fi ne and says this is normal ( . . . ). It’s just a game to him. (2_102–106) The game of doing business is at odds with the earnestness of company professionalism and if you haven’t developed a sense of the game you lose, both businesswise and emotionally. What we can take from this narrative, in particular, is that business ethics are inextricably linked with this game character. If you are able to see business as a game and you are good at it, it becomes less “unpleasant.” But this has little significance for this man as he has never developed an affi nity for business; just like the majority of those interviewed, it is not about the game but the “marbles,” namely the job and its content, and what he can achieve.

6.5

STATUS OR SERVICE, OR BOTH

The image left by the respondents’ narratives regarding the meaning of their careers is that they have outspoken societal ambitions and they are determined to achieve these by way of their jobs. For some, such as the politician and the union secretary, this has always been the explicit aim of their careers. But there are more respondents who attach meaning to their daily work by connecting their attitudes about service to a person or a cause. For some this is clear and unambiguous, and for others it is less perceptible. However, the need felt for responsibility and

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accountability is very apparent in all the stories told. The orientation can differ but there is an unmistakable awareness that exists—without losing sight of individual ambitions. The surgeon, who ended his own career and continues to work as advisor and teacher, speaks about the correlation between the “social and exact sciences,” within his own person: on the one hand, his idea of service that he had been spoon-fed, and on the other, his love for physics. The connection is made by concretely tackling the illness and suffering of his patients. All that follows is derived from this point. The interest for the individual is made tangible by way of the scalpel and postoperative care. He calls his profession an “official service” and thus takes on the status of a prominent person. At the same time—inspired by his upbringing—he redefi nes this status from an altruistic and social standpoint: prominent persons serve others. This was the appeal of becoming a doctor in the fi rst place, not the context of the profession itself: I didn’t have the faintest idea what a doctor did and didn’t do or how a specialist worked. I knew nothing about these circles and the cultural contexts in which it all took place. But still it had a strong attraction for me. I was even propelled towards it because I was so certain that I wanted to mean something to others. That’s the social sciences aspect, I’d say. And I could do something tangible through science and technology but then with natural science—thus, exact sciences—something I was good at in high school. (17_134) The professor spent an important part of his career on projects in the former Soviet Bloc. He describes a visit to a Romanian university: When we visited the chemistry faculty I was close to tears. Besides a few test tubes and some meager apparatus, there was nothing. You can do two things under the circumstances: decide this is developmental help and there is nothing to do about it or you can come back to help the people and try to improve the situation. I chose to do the latter. (27_44) In the Netherlands, he has been the recipient of important prizes and fulfi lled important functions in professional international organizations. Moreover, his efforts and achievements have earned him a great deal of respect in the form of honorary doctorates and professorships. Like those respondents who explain their professionalism in terms of service to others, others speak of their connection to the working class (and in its current variety, migrants) as the core value in their acts of professionalism. This is expressed by a director of a municipal social services agency as follows: Though your work for the group is organized through science or policy, you’re not a laborer: never again. But I’ve never felt the need to exploit this

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fact. (. . .) I still have a weakness for them, (. . .) people from the lowerclass professions, but skilled workers. There’s an understanding. (16_54) Even though he regrets that due to his primarily international activities in the field he no longer has direct contact with the group, these people continue to be a source of inspiration. When a new director’s function put him at risk of losing touch with his group, friends made certain he considered the consequences of the position. When I got the job for the municipality they asked me, “How can you justify it for yourself? ” So, if I had ever considered doing anything else, I would’ve thought long and hard. You choose the work and link your projects to your drive to do something for those that don’t have it as good, those with fewer chances. (16_92) The union secretary, who has devoted his entire life and career to defending workers’ interests, looks back with approval at how his objectives have taken shape: I am honestly very satisfied with my career. I can even say that I’ve been able to make my hobby my job. I made a choice that fits who I am and this also goes for what came fi rst. I’ve been lucky too. I’ve been at the right place at the right moment when chances appeared, either by way of someone recruiting me or (by way of) an application process that I heard about on time. This has been a kind of constant in my life, a red thread that’s been there since ( . . . ) the youth movement I belonged to. I continued to experience this later when I chose to do mission work (in) the third world; this later evolved into my career in the labor movement. (13_38–40) His consistent being “on call for the good cause ” has given key meaning to his life and career. That which offers an extra dimension to their professionalism for others, becomes the focal point of meaning here. An officer of the court and staff lawyer for the immigration court tells with pride how numerous refugees can attribute their residence permits to her efforts. Though it was once her ambition to be a judge, she says that she can be more effective as officer of the court: A judge has status but in certain cases that’s absolutely unmerited; immigration court is the court gutter, and too many times judges who are have no knowledge of the material are forced to work there, and the officers have a crucial role in the decisions. (24_47) When the topic is explicit forms of humanitarian and emancipatory service, there are frequent references to family values, in other words: this is what

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our parents taught us. What is more, based on the chances that the respondents ultimately received, there is the motive to help others (either as former child from the lower classes or as a female). There are but two cases where the career is directly in line with service for an emancipatory ideal, namely in the educational field, for those behind in language and schooling, and union work. We can see that the “controlling institutions ” are the assessors of career choices: in one case this was internal, in the form of family and friends, and in the other case external, in the form of the ideals of the missionary but transformed and made secular. In their discussions concerning service, other interviewees speak of this topic as a facet that enriches their careers with extra meaning or dynamic. The drive behind service has certain significance but is always connected to personal ambition—in other words, a mix of service and acquisition of status.

6.6

CONCLUSION

With the use of several themes, this chapter provides an overview of respondents’ careers, the meanings these have come to hold, and the direction they have been given. Diverse career patterns occur on numerous levels. We meet evident social success as well as failure, but the experience of both reflects a capricious pattern, from the most obvious pride to more or less concealed regret about not reaching the heights that others—from a different social background—have reached. There are those at peace with a nonacademic career that nonetheless, and in a certain sense, has more meaning, owing to the completed academic education. The obtained degree thus either augments the significance of work or instills a feeling of superiority over those in higher positions but less qualified for the job. The topics of meaning as regards ambition, professionalism, social networks and unfamiliar communication codes, receive a great deal of attention from respondents. When higher ambitions are in question, the focus remains centered on professionalism and seldom on leadership or managerial levels. Ambition is not instantaneous but grows in accordance with environmental stimulus; it is seldom a question of long-term planning. Ultimately, the goal is to develop professional ambition and employ it to give others guidance. This works well in an atmosphere where the emphasis is not on communication skills. Superior positions demanding management and communication skills lead to a sense of powerlessness. Upbringing and education are experienced as having fallen short in equipping this group with a capacity to operate in leadership positions. What is striking and expressed plainly—and in more than one interview—is a preference to operate in a second slot as professional behind the scenes. Distrust of management is not solely due to its lack of professionalism; it is also a natural response. We observe that authority is associated with complex emotional mechanisms, particularly where

Career and Life

163

management and a businesslike attitude are concerned. Competency in the areas of communication and strategy, exercising influence in networks, diplomacy and mastering codes and rituals, and recognizing hidden agendas are all emotional obstacles for this group. They are very aware of these mechanisms, envious of the others and at the same time angry. They condemn these emotions but are not able to change them. The vital part they play and the fact that they belong, on some level is understood; at the same time they recognize that being different is a hindrance to ever “truly” fitting in. The metaphor of calling from the sidelines is the most striking expression of the unfulfilled longing to belong. This is especially the case for university graduates who due to circumstances, incapacity or choice, and despite their education, do not exercise their profession among other academics. Attempting to achieve some form of standing by allowing oneself a professional opinion carries the risk of marginalization due to lacking legitimacy. Therefore, I can speak here of marginalized professionalism. This is in contrast to those who reach the center of the organization by way of professionalism and associated effort. But then again, the focus on professionalism provides the justification to continue to remain in the background.

7

7.1

Hicks and Proletarians

INTRODUCTION

With the words “We were the hicks, the proletarians,” a respondent evocatively relates his memories of his high school years. It is impossible to discover, by way of qualitative research methods, if this lament—in all its passion—is representative of the respondents and target group in general. But, considering the stories about the elitist high schools the majority of our participants attended, it is very plausible that this feeling was shared. The quote should above all be seen in the context of the narratives about high-ranking politicians and top lawyers who were schoolmates of the respondent, belonging to the upper classes of the city where the interviewee went to high school. Significantly, this rather severe remark is repeated by most respondents, equally unambiguously, although in milder variations. In every phase of their lives, all have recurrently experienced being unlike the others from a social and cultural perspective. Moreover, this message was clearly communicated to them. The experience and construction of dissimilarity can differ: there are those who report it having no impact, others who have borne it as a stigma and still others who have used it to their advantage. Up until this point I have worked descriptively, and thematically identified experiences and subjective meanings of social origin. My approach in this chapter and the following one is more analytical and interpretative. To this end, I use earlier data as well as new statements and citations by respondents that specifically illustrate and expand upon this theme of social and cultural disparity. In Chapter 3, I addressed the central meaning of “experiencing the difference” for identity development, while describing the social and cultural context as well as the strength of personality as fundamental. This chapter emphasizes the meaning of the context. The next chapter concentrates on the meaning given by the respondents to their own actions or failures. These are two facets of the same process. In order to operationalize the influence of the context—as in Chapter 3—I borrow from Bourdieu and his notions of social and cultural capital. Social capital generally refers to the existing networks that can be

Hicks and Proletarians 165 utilized to acquire social positions. This leads me to the question of the consequences and the meaning of exchanging a familiar network for one that is unfamiliar. Respondents’ experiences of this transition appear in the fi rst section. In the second I highlight what they have undergone from the perspective of lacking cultural capital. Subsequent to Bourdieu’s central notion, the concept of cultural capital relates to the question of how art and high culture generate and reproduce social differentiation (Bourdieu, 1977, 1984). How does the confrontation that my respondents undergo coincide with the social demands of “esthetic taste”? I end this chapter with an examination of data regarding relationship formation and family formation. Despite all the experienced differences, these can provide an indication of the actual social position by those who have undergone the process. It is the stories concerning childrearing that lead to the assumption that a great degree of “equalization” has taken place. Considering the data, the question thus concerns the nature of this “equalization.” Here too is a link to the next chapter, namely that which an individual has become is also passed to the children.

7.2

THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE SOCIAL DISTINCTION

When Relations Turn into the “Others” The process of the construction of social distinction went into effect the moment participants entered secondary education. This was initially due to circumstances of location: new friends at a new school in a different part of town, or even another town. Physical distance quickly developed into social distance and gradually the realization that they no longer fit in. This message was unmistakably conveyed: I really liked geography and I can remember a lesson about why the sun turned red in the evening. It was summer break and I was in a café with a group of friends who weren’t at school with me; I innocently began to tell them about what I’d learned. I only heard about it months later. Who did I think I was, thinking I was better than they were and telling them why the sun turned red in the evening? In their reading I did that to show I was superior. And all I wanted to do was share a story that interested me. (3_29) Significant here are the words who did I think I was and the fact that “a story that interested me” can be more than just interesting story; it has the power to generate social distinction. In the eyes of this student’s friends, his story came from a foreign world. It was not the fact that they had no interest in the topic but instead that it was told by the wrong person at the wrong moment. It provided the fi nal evidence of his “betrayal.” These

166 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility are peer reactions but in Chapter 6 we have seen how the attitudes of a father’s colleagues and neighbors changed when a respondent entered medical school. Another respondent says, When I went to high school my parents and the neighborhood were proud of me because here was someone from here (who) was going to make it. ( . . . ) But when I went to college, I gradually changed into a “student type” and was on the other side. “Listen guys,” I’d say “I’m still me.” But no, “You’re a student now and we have to work for you and that makes you a moocher.” (17_45–48) Both cases concern position: students become pedants, with all the associated traits, and thus are symbolically shunned from the network. This is communicated radically and directly. But it feels like a blow below the belt: I felt my intentions were misinterpreted. I had a strong class consciousness and understood very well I was a boy from the working class. So it really hit me that my intent was attributed to something that didn’t apply to me! I was just a naïve kid enthusiastic to share something. (3_31) The construction of social distinction and projection onto the individual is illustrated in both respondents’ narratives. Moreover, survival strategies—such as maintaining awareness of belonging to the working class—is awarded with a slap in the face. In order not to offend family and friends, one respondent started speaking two separate languages: At a certain point, a couple of guys from lower vocational school started giving us a rough time because we were using new words: the word “appreciate” was used in conversation. That’s when I started speaking two languages, the one we were supposed to speak in school and the other for home. I realized it was offensive otherwise to some because they couldn’t follow what you were saying. That was a pivotal moment. You had to tone it down. (3_22) Parting from the home environment was also a departure from the macho culture, where rough, aggressive and sometimes even violent social behavior dominated. Rejection from the circle of friends (because being different was not tolerated), forced dual language usage to prove loyalty, and growing aversion to the crude but all-too-familiar social behavior: all made perfectly clear the necessity to escape from the enormous social pressure to behave according to certain rules. Friends and family plainly made known that from that point on, the respondents had to fend for themselves.

Hicks and Proletarians 167 Still, it remained painful and customs resonated. Habits and presumptions, as well as ties of friendship and family were rooted in working-class culture. It required a process of conscious personal reflection—eventually inspired by others—in order to separate oneself from these phenomena. There were those who felt their limits had been crossed and felt constantly denied in their personhood; they began to observe how insensitively things are handled in some working-class families. Cruel humor and belittling were cause for resentment. The longing to leave had become reality; education had provided insight into present circumstances and a new frame of reference, and it appealed to ideas pertaining to personal potential and the future. One respondent had had enough of being “the son of”; he promised himself to leave his hometown. He had begun psychology study in its local university and through his brother had connections with the hippie scene, where he was introduced to anarchist study groups: I felt that that their attitudes were weighing me down. Not only my family’s but the whole town. Everyone I knew fit the system. I was part of it too but didn’t want to be. Q: Where you’d always be that boy from there? A: Exactly! It was symbiotic. Even if I’d wanted to, I never could’ve risen above it. (6_83–85) To be able to categorically choose a study, he had to actively and deliberately give up his old network. Even though the subculture had liberated him from the family culture where his father’s motto—“we might be brilliant but that doesn’t mean we have to work”—prevailed (see Chapter 4). In his eyes, even with a university study, it stayed provincial and connected to the position within the local community. And even if there was room within the local community for deviating interests and clubs, he was still “the son of.” To get away from the collective pressure, the only thing to do was to leave and start anew. I have but one testimony—albeit indirectly—of someone who radically cut himself off from his former milieu with the aim of total integration into the adopted one. The story was told by a respondent about her stepbrother, who had told his schoolmates that his father, a truck driver, was a wine importer. This was the only case I encountered of its kind, and I was unable to discover his actual motives; he had moved abroad and the respondent had no contact with him. For those having left the original circles, maintaining contact with family is still the overriding tendency, despite rejection, criticism and the incapacity to openly present themselves. A sense of incongruousness is the subsequent experience: I have to attend an aunt’s funeral tomorrow, where I’ll be seeing all kinds of family and acquaintances from the old days; I can tell you, it

168

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility exhausts me. Nowadays, it means a lot to me to go, but having to relate to them is just exhausting. They don’t look up to me—well, maybe slightly. I try to be nice and to adapt, and I can do it. I wasn’t always able to. I think I used to be a little arrogant. ( . . . ) Q: Do they approach you as if nothing has changed? A: Some do. In any case, all of the older generation does. On the one hand, I enjoy it, but on the other, I have the feeling they have no idea who I really am; nor do they have a clue that they don’t know. This feeling is hard to cope with. (28_192–194)

It “means a lot” but it is exhausting; it is uncomfortable but can still feel familiarly warm. But the hardest part is that there is no interest in who one really is. This respondent is confronted with exclusion and at the same time the reality of another process: the process of self-exclusion. This is a consequence of her persistent expectation that she can openly reveal who she is and thus gain recognition as an individual. Therefore, the family retains their significance; emotional ties have not been severed and these will possibly exist for the rest of their lives. A similar story is relayed, this time by the ophthalmologist in regard to a discussion with her brother, in which she defends—as he sees it—her considerable income: And sometimes I think: Shouldn’t I earn more? ( . . . ) And if someone tells me “You’re paid more than enough; a little less would do,” I simply argue, “but we start (our careers) much later.” Q: Do I hear a justification towards your family? I think that someone from a doctor’s family wouldn’t feel the need. A: Could be. I tend to defend my salary. I’ve told my parents how much I earn but I work fifty or sixty hours a week for it. It’s OK to attach prestige to your profession; you’ve worked hard for it. And I’ve made sacrifices. (26_93) Her defense illustrates that the frame of reference from her original milieu continues to apply; criticism is believed to be defendable and the disparity remains an issue. In this section we have seen that, in regard to the social context in the former milieu, there was a certain measure of urgency to flee its collective pressure. Thus, academic study provided the escape route and it was sealed off, as such. If there is no other conceptual framework at hand (for example, ideological), individuals are left to their own resources. The desire to leave old social networks was motivated by its collective pressure to conform. For those who had left and did not want to or could not identify with the new milieu, this individual move turned out to be the solution to another problem. In other words, although they were now objectively

Hicks and Proletarians 169 members of the middle classes, they did not have to classify themselves as such. However, the notion of having to continue to provide justification to the former network thus lingered on.

Will I Ever Really Belong? The need to justify oneself is in sharp contrast to the experience of a respondent with people who feel perfectly at ease in their own circles and have no need to reflect (on their lives): I’ve been friends for years with a girl from somewhat better circles, than we were. Her mother always said, “Her friends are our friends.” And that was fantastic, because those people were 100 percent part of that milieu; that’s who they were. (. . .) And it’s great to really belong to something with your entire being, but there were things I was much better at: I could see things from different angles and find a way to handle them or have a better understanding of situations, that type of thing. (2_29) This pharmacologist sketches the discrepancy between the self-evidence of being part of a social milieu and belonging from a distance. Distance affords the advantage of reflection and the ability to adjust perspectives, offering, in turn, a clearer vantage point, but this has its drawbacks as well: I meet people who, as far as I can tell, have no qualms that they might be overstepping their bounds and can go to the limits with more ease. It has to do with the hesitation that I might intrude. It’s the fear of overplaying your hand and not feeling confident about how far you can go. It’s hard to fulfi ll a leadership position if this isn’t something you’re good at. It’s not a natural position. (1_105) A world is entered with unknown expectations. In spite of the formal knowledge and education, which are apparently not adequate qualifications, there is a deficiency of emotional preparation. Other abilities and qualities, taken for granted, create a subtle distinction. The fact of having been raised in another reality—but certainly one legitimate and authentic—is well understood. In contrast, the milieu where the individual’s limited reality is presented as if it is the only feasible reality is viewed with astonishment and a difficult-to-conceal aversion: Once I was visiting my parents-in-law and my husband’s sister was there too. She studies at the University of Agriculture (in the city of Wageningen). The whole family is academically educated. Someone asked her what she was doing, and she simply said, “I’m in Wageningen.” It was perfectly clear to everyone what she does. In their context this is self-evident. If something like this would happen with people

170 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility from my background, no one would know what she was talking about. They’d ask what she was doing there. (29_132) The context determines the normalcy of what is said; questioning the normalcy from a different normal context means exclusion. There is no discrepancy in perspective and context for these “others”; there is, after all, just one perspective and that is their perspective. An individual from another background has but one choice and that is adaptation. The student of pedagogical studies reports the following about her co-students: I always got the feeling that coming from a working-class family I had to try extra hard not to let it show. They acted like I didn’t belong and that all the effort had to come from me and that (they) didn’t have to do anything.( . . . ) I had to adapt to them so that I didn’t stand out and they had all kinds of subtle mechanisms to make it clear—for instance, making a point about their skiing trips in the Christmas vacation. And then they’d ask me if I hadn’t gone skiing. And when I said we’d stayed home they’d say, “You never go anywhere, do you?” (5_59) Besides the subtlety of the mechanism of exclusion, the citation above especially illustrates the others’ unawareness and lack of interest in a background that is not their own. The ostensibly casual comment “You never go anywhere, do you?” betrays the undercurrent that staying at home is a choice just like any other, such as a skiing vacation. The idea of not being able to afford a vacation does not even occur to them. This woman expresses the sense of continuously being “appraised” according to certain unspoken social standards, and never being able to meet these.

The Woman as Status-Keeper It is apparent that the relatively subtle forms of exclusion of women and by women are relayed. However, male respondents experienced similar confrontations. The father of a respondent had a friendship with his village doctor. The respondent and the doctor’s son went to secondary school together in a neighboring town. Asked about his experience with class distinction, he responded: As far as the doctor went, absolutely not; his wife, however, was another story. I can tell you an anecdote I remember well. I was in my fi rst year of my pre-university program in high school and there was a PTA meeting. My father was a shepherd and he really couldn’t have cared less. He said it was all lost on him. But the doctor had told my father, “Adriaan, drive with us.” My father put on his best suit but that was the last time he went, and I know why (smiles). (23_9–11)

Hicks and Proletarians 171 The stories have a bitter undertone when the topic of love relationships comes up. Two respondents were actively opposed at the beginning of their relationships by the boyfriends’ mothers. One respondent (the woman who had been surprised about the self-evidence of the words “I’m in Wageningen”) tells a story about her fi rst visit to her future in-laws: Days after that visit, I received a letter from his mother saying that we’d come from two such very different realms of standing and that it would be better to put an immediate end to it; the relationship didn’t stand a chance, anyway. Her letter was to confi rm this fact. Yes, we were both in shock. P. was furious, tore up the letter and called his mother, saying, “What’s the matter with you, anyway?” I’m sorry I couldn’t save the letter. The chill stayed for a long time. I think it was more, though, than difference in background: some mothers feel that their boys are being taken away from them. (29_83–90) Besides the incompatibility of social background, this narrative illustrates a type of archetypical separation anxiety, exacerbated by a woman from an inferior standing (in the moral connotation), who is enticing a son. In the case of another respondent, sexual temptation was an explicit argument. As a student in a teacher training college, she had a relationship with the son of the director: I’ve always been heavyset and it was said of me, “her breasts are too big.” In other words, I was much too sexy. It was also my direct manner; I didn’t mind saying what I thought. It was the period of women’s liberation and second-wave feminism and I was naturally a big supporter of the movement. And that I wanted to live on my own in a student residence was just not done. These were whorehouses, and moreover a seventeen-year-old belongs with her parents at home and should stay there till she gets married. (32_32 –36) This young woman placed herself outside the upper class in two ways: she had the sexual appeal of a girl from the working class and she was too outspoken. Even if she would adapt to the communication norms of her in-laws, her moral character would remain in doubt. Her parents’ response was exactly the opposite; they thought her boyfriend was a good young man from the better class, who had a better understanding of the world at large than she did. (32_74) Both relationships just described are still intact. The young men in question both chose unconditionally for their wives and resisted parents’ interference. Despite the fact that those involved were not conscious that social motives may have played a role in their falling in love and forming a pair, this was something the mothers, in any case, were acutely aware of.

172 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility It is, however, worth noting that the social decline of mothers in my respondents’ families was felt to be a powerful motivation for class-consciousness. Moreover, in the stories of social rejection, mothers appear to play a more emphatic role than fathers. A possible explanation could stem from the role of care giving and childrearing combined with a position of dependence on the main source of income. This role afforded some women a certain power; in the respondents’ families, as well as the families they were confronted with, women were dependent on their husbands for both their livelihood and status. When children from economically disadvantaged families achieved academic success and in addition married into higher circles this was a confi rmation of the power of women’s childrearing efforts while putting the concept of dependence in perspective. In the case of a son moving in the direction of social decline—for instance, through a relationship—the mother’s influence regarding childrearing was denied and dependency on her husband confi rmed.

In Conclusion The picture that emerges in regards to social differentiation is that of mechanisms at work during the construction of social differentiation. These reveal aspects of positioning by others as well as self-positioning. Academic study signifies active and ruthless social exclusion by friends, family and other parties from the class of origin. These individuals created a class division where knowledge—and demonstration of it—functioned as the differentiating trait. The respondents did want to leave familiar surroundings but rather to escape the collective pressure to conform. In addition, there was a growing aversion to crude practices as well to as peers and others who stigmatized them and formed an obstacle to their development. Familiar networks had lost their meaning and this applied as well to positions. Furthermore, these individuals had little interest left in a lifestyle in which each person’s position was fi xed and which held individual identification in respect to behavior, expectations from others and their approach. From that moment on, they were on their own. This was an ongoing, mutual process of the reinforcement of imposed and self-chosen removal and estrangement, leading to an individualized course in order to advance. It is significant to note that the source of this individualization process as a social phenomenon was generally the parents, but for various reasons was stifled. The process of entrance into the new social stratum is comparable to the process of immigration. Customs, conventions and codes are unfamiliar but what is most striking is the awakening to the fact that the “others” appear to have no notion whatever that other lifestyles and attitudes even exist. The advantage, however, for actual immigrants is that they are visible as “others” so that the issue of their difference can be shared. The question for my respondents entailed individual experience and confrontations, in which they continuously underwent the consequences of the discrepancy between the

Hicks and Proletarians 173 obviousness of not belonging versus the self-evidence of the presence of those in question. In addition to this are expanding boundaries and the rules of the games that are played. Boundaries were continuously crossed and each boundary was guarded by its own sentries who explained the conventions and codes, to which adherence was required. The individual course, in order to specially create a network and thus to integrate, was the professional path of hard work and independently facing confrontation. This, however, was accompanied by the inevitable confrontation with the new culture: firstly, lifestyle; secondly, the culture of work; and, last but not but least, culture in the context of refinement and taste, arts and letters—high culture.

7.3

CULTURAL DISPARITY AND CULTURAL CAPITAL

As I have indicated, in this section I explore the meaning of culture for the construction of social differentiation. According to Swidler, culture shapes a “toolkit,” as it were, equipped with, habits, skills, and styles, “which people may use in varying configurations to solve different kinds of problems” (Swidler, 1986: 273). Several authors (Hall, 1996; Bourdieu, 1979; Willis, 1977) describe what this means for social differentiation. In order to access the realm of the higher social class, new graduates must transcend, so to speak, a cultural entryway.

Codes, Social Behavior and Eligibility Criteria Concerning the area of social behavior, there are endless examples of unfamiliarity with table manners, dress codes (when and where), etiquette and so forth. One respondent felt that regarding clothing choice, she should simply be accepted for who she was (and what she wore) (5_99), so that she could “face herself.” But the interviewee’s conclusion in the following citation regarding the tutoring received by his fraternity brothers is exemplary for respondent’s views on the topic: They gave me etiquette instructions about, for example, if a lady should walk up the stairs in front of or behind a guy ( . . . ). I remember thinking that it was all too stupid for words but still important to know. I didn’t want to stand out too much in the negative sense. (17_37) Not standing out too much was a reasonable standpoint, but this man felt like a stranger in the midst for a long while. This was particularly evident during social events not at work. As a young resident he had to give a speech at an official dinner: It was admittedly from cowardice but also self-protection that I called in sick. It was gutless and I still feel that way but I just couldn’t do it; I

174

Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility was terrified, not knowing what to expect. I was filled with dread and another resident, next to the youngest, didn’t mind doing it. ( . . . ) Medical school was without a doubt a learning process; I pushed harder and gained more insight but confrontations with that kind of triviality never stopped, and it was always hard. On the one hand, I was expected to give 100 percent to my studies and that went fi ne. ( . . . ) At the same time you had to have the skin of an elephant. You might think it was a strange combination but one way or another I could handle it OK. (17_154)

Although light is shed here on a typically medical milieu, this respondent sketches the widespread contrast between the professional codes of behavior with colleagues, on the one hand, and the rituals and social behavioral codes that enclose these, on the other. The crucial role these play are relayed by this surgeon—as well as other doctors—in their stories. Still, it is striking that the surgeon’s recollection as to this discrepancy on the work floor has lost its meaning; he attributes this to what he had learned about hierarchy from his social environment: The hierarchal aspect, learned from home, has really helped, having specialized in a specialism like mine, where only people from the top echelons worked. There was, for example, quite a large number from nobility, so I was really an outsider. But in the context of the hierarchy, where everybody had to work like a demon and work was part of life, 24–7, it wasn’t really a problem, because, as far as work went, we were a real team. (17_154) When work is structured by way of an undeniable hierarchal leadership, differences on the work floor vanish. All belonged to the team of white coats, and hard work, discipline and expertise associated with the job were the criteria for feeling equal to the rest. The job itself—professional identity and the corresponding contacts within a “tradition”—was of far greater importance than the “frat boy” mentality. But resentment, nonetheless, remained: I still can’t forgive myself for not speaking (at the residents’ dinner). It’s futile to worry about it, but it’s still a bitter memory. (17_178–180) Although this veteran professional harbors no illusions, he continues to feel that having failed an initial ordeal, he misses the competence to succeed at other tests of initiation, ones unrelated to work but intertwined with the exclusive-club mentality. Being good is not enough to be accepted to the top, you have to be resigned to function in the periphery. The question is, in fact, not one of quality and professionalism—areas in which my respondents were exceptionally accomplished–but of the regimented entrance to the inner circle of the old boys’ network. Here the members are

Hicks and Proletarians 175 mutually recognized by their taste in wine and the power of their money. The gatekeepers function perfectly and obviously and the wives are practiced participants. Another doctor, who has illustrated how he was scarcely impressed by the codes of the medical world, describes the others’ subtler mechanisms aimed at letting the newcomers know they do not belong. In the previous chapter he relates how a new colleague started work in a three-piece suit and subsequently consistently received better assessments from management then he did. The codes of the inner circle ( . . . ) they belong together, recognized each other, wear the right clothes, and have a certain way about talking about food and wine. I’ve never taken part; I was a doctor through and through, and then I ordered a Lambrusco—I did it too to get a reaction, of course. But I’ve always been very conscious that I don’t belong. I’m respected but I’m an outsider and the message is subtly but clearly conveyed, not by telling me in a direct way, but I don’t get invited to their functions anymore; without saying a word: they simply ignore me. It’s not hostility; to the contrary, they have a kind of a friendly, good-natured attitude, with a trace of superiority. A college classmate with a managerial function and who obviously came from old money accepted money from me for a bite at lunchtime but never paid me back. Despite the fact (that) he was a multimillionaire, he never had any money with him, just always a brown bag with sandwiches from home. “So I won’t be tempted to spend,” he’d say. Getting a loan and not paying back, though, was never a problem. (10_59) Since when is the practice of failing to return loaned money the norm in any circle? Whatever the explanation might be, it demands a degree of psychological investment to be able to neutrally handle this conduct. This respondent clearly has little interest in having anything to do with the codes of these people but their presence has consequences for his job. Significant in this case are implicit assessment criteria that favor one person over another and where professional norms hold less significance than behavioral ones. Conscious strategies are absent here; daily action is at issue. In a professional situation, where these elitist codes and rituals have less of an impact—for instance, in the area of exact sciences and more ordinary medical and business environments—the disparity is experienced less acutely: I can imagine that if you’re the son of a dentist or doctor ( . . . ) you’re just as motivated. I don’t believe that this attitude is from my workingclass background. I never felt I was in the wrong milieu or had the idea that I was a working-class kid and I had to get out and wanted more. I just had an interest in other things and this was more from what I’d gotten from home than that I’d had to fight to fi nd my way. (4_164)

176 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility In this respondent’s view an individual’s original background is irrelevant; the source of his broad cultural interest was his family home and explicitly his mother, who had brought him to performances in the city theater due to lacking options for childcare; she had worked there as an usher. But this respondent points to the presence of physicians—in his hospital—and their greed, and calls them thugs, while referring to the destructive influence they have on top management. The business director as well is hardly bothered by social disparity and exclusion by the “other class”: Many of those I deal with ( . . . ) have similar backgrounds. When I got this job at the Water Authority, my boss was from nobility—a baron—, back then the old land nobility were in charge and I experienced the inequality, but otherwise none. I never feel the lesser. We receive plenty of ambassadors. And Prince Willem-Alexander (crown prince) has been here many times. I feel no difference at all or that he stands above me. ( . . . ) People are people. (15_51–54) One of the fi rst things I noticed is that it’s not what you know but who you know. That was especially because of the ( political party) lobby here ( . . . ) with a quid pro quo culture. (15_74) This “network consciousness” implies that all participants are considered to be equals. Therefore he has come to be part of a specific social network of generational peers, with almost identical experiences, and who thus in many aspects are likeminded. The ambassadors and crown prince are bystanders, but, even so, ones who respect and recognize his expertise. An individual only feels affronted if others demonstrate a superior attitude based on their social position—not on professional status. The following could be a tentative conclusion: the experience of a sense of social inferiority diminishes and integration into the higher classes becomes less problematic proportionately to strict and objective professional standards playing a larger role in the professional setting. The practical professional fields apparently provide more opportunities, not only for achieving a higher social status but also for avoiding confrontation with the effects of social disparity.

The Aura of Natural Authority Hard work and professional accomplishment can be inconspicuous activities and make little impression. In the previous chapter, a respondent uses the metaphor of an ice skater to portray the intensity of his effort (18_63) and consistent with this imagery calls himself a “mediocre skater,” who can reasonably get by with a style that is, though marked by concentration and determination, nonetheless awkward. This is in contrast to his son, who, he says, “glides elegantly over the ice.” He applies this metaphor too to his research work: in his assessment, with his attitude of hard work

Hicks and Proletarians 177 and perseverance he should have been able to achieve a professorship. He simply misses the elegance that he observes in, for example, a professor he works with. Despite understanding the relativity of this imagery, he points to the necessity of another ingredient besides effort and toil. He refers to it as the litheness and naturalness of moving in higher social circles. Those who characterize these circles work hard as well but they possess a self-evidence of belonging to their natural environment. This is a quality emanated as an aura of natural authority. This researcher associates this attitude and aura with the intellectual and cultural atmosphere where these individuals grew up. Bourdieu refers here to embodied cultural capital (“capital culturel incorporé”) (Bourdieu, 1984, citation from the French version, 1979: 433). Despite his earnest efforts to catch up, he understands that he will never achieve the same litheness, let alone the aura radiated by the others. Another respondent, who feels that she lacks a natural authority, says this is related to her mind-set of never having the courage to speak her mind, even when she is certain that she knows more than the others. (8_117): Radiating authority, without a word, is something I could never learn, certainly compared to my present partner, who must have this from his family background. ( . . . ) Everywhere he goes, he emits the sense that he’s in charge. His father was a bank director and he ( . . . ) always does precisely what he wants to do. He’s always been the boss. (8_120–122) In this respondent’s perception, besides an absence of concern in regard to material existence, a father—in particular, one who perceptibly exercises authority—is key as an identification figure and role model. Such a man impresses, not only as an individual but also as a tangible illustration of how authority should be exercised. In her view, her partner has incorporated the naturalness of individually exercised authority in combination with the fact that his entire existence is patently obvious and unquestioned. Opposed to this outlook is the memory of continuous concern as to livelihood, complex and ambiguous authoritative relationships in and outside the home, as well as concentrated effort to have some measure of control over the conditions of existence. A critical and skeptical attitude towards the customs and practices of the other social class and its status is anything but peculiar. Still, criticism and skepticism contain their own ambivalence. The mother of a boy she had ended a relationship with—the wife of a notary—made a real impression on one respondent: He was one of those boys with a lot of money and special tutors to get them through their fi nal exams, while with my background I had to do it all myself. I visited his mother once and she, of course, made an impression—at least at the time. I still get the feeling I’m just a little girl in a dirty dress when I’m confronted with this conventional type of woman,

178 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility where a certain kind of formality, though unspoken, is demanded. I just get thrown back to that time of my life. (28_109–117) This citation illustrates the ambiguity of the situation described by this woman, namely despite her realization of her superior intellectual competence, her own strength ebbed away simply through the confrontation with this “type” of woman. It led her back to her soiled dress and all that was socially associated with it. Being a good student, intelligence and independent achievement was worthless. This was the message emanated by this milieu, in her perception. The relevance of the contrast between earnestness and play is also noted by respondents in this context. Earnestness was learned at home and was, so to speak, sealed into family culture because the pursuit of a livelihood was a serious matter. But this earnest attitude is also tied to the realization that everything achieved has been done by the merits of personal strength, and this is to be preserved and protected at all costs. This attitude, in turn, creates a distinctive sensitivity to others, who radiate the sense that they have received everything they have effortlessly and thus tend to view their work as a game. Hence, the issue here is the notion and the meaning of what has been transmitted to the recipients and not whether perception of the “others” is identical. In Chapter 2, I referred to the distinction that Brands encounters in the debate, for the sake of truth (my words) and the debate as style, as the game and demonstration of verbal finesse (Brands, 1992: 263–264). I put Brands’s conclusion—that some individuals have learned this attitude at home—into perspective, with the example of the so-called Mays/Mantle debate described by Garger (1995). It is not exclusively in the higher classes that (male) egos demonstrate their knowledge of facts and statistics. This supports the notion that games are universal and that here within, class-specific variations occur. The point, however, is that Garger must overcome his own aggression (“the Bronx-reflex”) and that he is only able to see the parallels to his own game playing after a colleague calls the pitfall of the debate to his attention. It is also feasible that an individual having taken an extensive and tedious route before even being eligible for participation in this scientific debate has little interest in the game playing. It is in addition not only a question of recognition of the manifestations and discovery of game rules but of acceptance of the game itself. A good measure of abstraction ability in order to discover the game element is an affront to what is experienced as the principal professional achievement. Power can also be emanated while playing the game.

Academic Culture There is a strong suggestion of the idea that “though you can get far you will nonetheless be excluded from the center of power” in a university lecturer’s narrative. In his perception he and many other colleague teachers originating from working-class families were the ones designated to

Hicks and Proletarians 179 introduce students, ones who started to populate the universities in the 1960s, to an academic environment. These lecturers were developing new methods and work fields in the areas of education and research and this was a consequence. In addition, these academic professionals were important advocates of societal perspectives in scientific practice. It was not only owing to his background that this respondent felt he was the right man for the job but particularly due to his theoretical approach: I always emphasized my affiliation with working- class youth. This was a product of my own origin. This is why students came to me. It was exactly these circumstances that enabled me to create a job in which I could grow without restraint, professionally and independently develop my area of knowledge. At a certain point I knew everything there was to know about Bourdieu. I had read it all. I had a reputation of being a good and knowledgeable teacher and work group supervisor. (30_23) This citation concerns academic professionalism: here is an expert who speaks with authority and operates in a specific work terrain rooted in a compelling theoretical framework. He felt that this attitude fit perfectly in the academic practice of the sixties and seventies. It was an obstacle, however, that he did not have a PhD. As long as he could autonomously manage his work terrain this was not an issue, but when the university organizational culture changed in the early nineties it became problematical: (New) norms included a certain number of publications in Englishlanguage journals and, in any case, a PhD. At a certain moment, I was offered six months to complete my PhD. That was impossible, which was clear. I refused. I could stay on but was given extensive teaching tasks, which didn’t suit me. ( . . . ) I decided to take the initiative and choose ( . . . ) a redundancy payment scheme. (30_25) But in his view, instead of streamlining university education and research, the change had had a different meaning, which involved the confrontation between two cultures: I saw the enormous dissatisfaction with this transition in culture in everyone with a working-class background. ( . . . ) I’ve ( . . . ) accumulated an awful lot of social and cultural capital and used these to create a synthesis. But I had to achieve this synthesis. It was not taught at home. It was not in my blood and that’s what you see in the others— those that imposed the new rules. ( . . . ) They needed us, the best and the brightest boys and girls from the working class, at the end of the sixties. The academic class was out of balance but now that they’ve regained it, we no longer meet their criteria. There is a fundamental difference in values. And it resulted in my loss of status. (30_33)

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The answer to my question of whether he might be thinking in terms of a conspiracy, is the following: Not to that extent—it is not a conscious exclusion. But it is obvious that numerous colleagues from similar backgrounds have the same experience. (One colleague) has stayed but has been more and more marginalized. He only gets teaching tasks now and his research time has been cut. Another acquaintance, a PhD from a small village in Groningen (a province in northern Netherlands), a laborer’s son, has been totally pushed aside. (30_36–37) Let it be emphasized that these are in no way empirical statements but are rather included as an attempt to give meaning to specifi c experiences. Therefore—on a manifest level—in this man’s account, the “authentic scientific debate” is positioned in opposition to the publication pressure, which results in the production of much nonsense. In this manner, the academic elite makes its comeback by way of a positivist discourse at the expense of collegial academic feedback and professional performance criteria. To belong to the academic top level, there are no longer professional rules in place, but others, such as an acceptance of quantitative performance criteria, adhering to a specific scientific philosophy and especially subjection to social codes. Between the lines of his narrative we can also determine an implicit manner of reasoning. He conveys here the ever-present mechanism in which those originating from lower social classes are never really admitted to the classical elite within the academic world. Once, for any reason whatsoever, tendencies towards a broadening and pluralizing performance occur, a shift and reinforcement of the criteria and a stricter scrutiny of admittance to the top layer is simultaneously activated. The elite is granted the time to wait for the reestablishment of power.

ART AND CULTURE The cardiologist cited above had never had the sense of living in the wrong milieu and thus had no urge to leave. He attributes this feeling “to other things” he had learned at home. His mother was an usher in the city theater and would take him with her to work when a sitter was unavailable. He was able to see numerous performances. He got a lot out of the performances. But other changes also took place in the 1970s when his mother came home with new ideas influencing the family to take a more critical view of society. As revealed in his story, culture was not only a carrier for new views at home; it was also a means for the family to participate in a different world, a world of representation and aesthetics. It provided an opportunity for transcending the daily

Hicks and Proletarians 181 drudgery and an ideal to hold on to for independently shaping their lives (and leaving the church). This section deals with high culture, the meaning of art, literature and music, and the entrance into a social world where aspects of culture evidently exist. They originate from a cultural context where other tastes apply. This “aesthetic disposition” knows no intrinsic hierarchy—in other words, there is no disputing taste. It does, however, create a social hierarchy and the taste of the upper class has a higher status. Therefore, becoming acquainted with other viewpoints—such as those presented in literature—can have an emancipatory effect but at the same time a discriminatory effect: one individual thus feels better than the other. This applies even more to those having been brought up with the “correct” aesthetic disposition. Almost all respondents underwent a form of secondary socialization through their acquaintance with music, art and literature. Many acquired the taste of the higher classes but never learned to apply its social function. The data of the research regarding this point, however, show significant variation in meaning and degree. Thus the occupation of the cardiologist’s mother opened a hidden world, where other meanings and interpretations of reality were presented. Significant, however, is the parents’ attempt to live accordingly. Another respondent grew up listening to classical music and thus the family could distinguish itself from the laborers in their neighborhood: I could see the difference between our family and the rest of the neighborhood. They were blue-collar workers. Don’t forget: we played classical music; we had a piano and we sometimes had a complete symphony orchestra at home. We came from the center of town ( . . . ) and had moved to a bigger house in a working-class neighborhood in a planned development with parks and greenery. We made music there, in our row house, and the neighbors loved it. But before too long they were standing at our front door and yelling, “Who do you people think you are?” There were also people who worked night shifts. The novelty wore off quickly. (20_61) The attitude of “being different” based on “good taste” still persists, years later. Even though his musical father had been a factory bench worker, he liked to tell—with humor—that he came from a bohemian milieu. My respondent had been a teacher in a department of educational studies and as the department primarily did quantitative research, it had a high standing in the university hierarchy. But he felt the academic level of the job was poor: They were provincials, clerks, schoolmarms and masters—if they only could have been academic thinkers! (20_145) He also refers to debate and deepening of theoretical knowledge within this framework as traits of authentic academic professionalism, but through

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his categorization of his colleagues, he positions them not only outside the academic world but also outside the creative cultural elite. His relationships took place within the better milieus. This also allowed him to feel superior to his colleagues. It is remarkable that he associates this too with his bohemian and musical background: My wife studied art history then (. . .) and it was through her that I met people from a different class, with more classical interests and who went to see art. I was, in fact, working in a provincial milieu. (20_157) Although not specifically mentioned, he relates this story in the context of “pride goeth before a fall.” He was now aware—though much less earlier—that it was his wife who held the key cultural position: his entrance into the new milieu was facilitated by his musical background, and with his wife’s help he could complete what was missing. His wife ultimately ended the relationship: At the time I was suffering the most from the breakup, I couldn’t help think that if my father came from better circles, she wouldn’t have left ( . . . ). She fell in love with another art history student, someone from her own class. ( . . . ) It’s true she missed something in me. (20_176–178) It is, of course, questionable in what sense the class difference played a part in the breakup, if it did at all. There were other issues as well and there was little discussion about the divorce: “Everyone was getting divorced at the time” indicates an easy justification. In retrospect he felt his behavior had been arrogant and snobbish, and he speaks of his own “fall,” of which the main source was the relationship between the external culture with a powerful inner uncertainty and fear of inferiority. I will elaborate further in the next chapter but significant here is the suggestion in his narrative that this outer culture must respond to a more basic attitude—and this is not learned in working-class families. In order to clarify this point, I will delve more extensively into the account of the respondent who likens himself to a determined skater in contrast to the natural, graceful elegance of those having been brought up with high culture. Contrary to the previous respondent, his acquaintance with the world of music and literature was the consequence of a clear and explicit secondary learning process. He had his fi rst encounter with classical music and literary analysis in the preliminary seminary: The following occasion moved me most: every Sunday from eight till nine-thirty we listened to records. One of the priests put the turntable in the study hall, where we each worked at our own desk. It had huge speakers and he came into the room pushing a trolley with LPs. He’d sit down and say for instance, “OK, now we’re going to listen to Ravel’s

Hicks and Proletarians 183 piano concert for the left hand,” and he’d tell us all about it. That was the fi rst time I listened to music. ( . . . ) There was nothing like it at home. When I met my wife and visited her parents and saw their bookshelves with Plato and Russell ( . . . ) a new world opened up to me. (18_80–81) His most captivating discovery was that this cultural world could be brought into the home. But it was a late discovery, as he remarks earlier— when he compares himself to those who emanate culture naturally—that he lives with the sense that he has so much to catch up with that he makes an “unbalanced impression on others.” He reads and listens to music, he appreciates art and culture, but it is, and will always be, accompanied by an effort to make up for lost time. Based on both narratives, we could conclude that however and wherever art and aesthetics are utilized, there is an inner component needed for its effectiveness; this cannot be found within the aesthetics, as such. Consequently, one man uses his musical background to classify others, without foundation in an inner acquired stability, to make it self-evident. It is to the contrary, a manner in which to veil his fear and uncertainty. In contrast, the other respondent is drawn to the ostensible emotional stability of those, who naturally project “culture.” Still, he understands that aesthetic taste is not enough to attain the same cultural aura. He feels as if he is continuously attempting to catch up with all that he missed at home. There were also some respondents who specified rock and pop music’s function in breaking cultural ties with their working-class past. At the same time, this music served as a means to rebel against the “superior” status of classical music, which it held within the circles of the highestlevel pre-university high school program. We will not go further into the question of whether rock and pop music can hold the same meaning as the so-called higher culture for constructing a social hierarchy. Music genres are, regardless, crucial for the creation of subcultures and the articulation of social differentiation (Frith, 1978). It is, however, not only a question of the relationship between aesthetics and social classification but also the function of identification in the classification process (Turner, 1982). The moment that the urge felt to discover beauty is accompanied by a hierarchical relationship and, what is more, concerns an art form associated with a higher status—separate from the aesthetic criteria, which determine its value—this art form obtains a classificatory meaning. This way you can gain social recognition by way of Jimi Hendrix, although for other social elites, especially those grounded in economic power, other criteria apply. Even with the overall integration, at a certain moment, of pop and rock music as well as other forms of modern cultural expression, the differentiation between high and low remains unaffected. Ultimately, it is the economic elites who possess the resources to play the game of differentiation and to play it well.

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Numerous respondents indicate that they acquired “culture” at home— for instance, when they attended concerts with parents, organized by unions; went to the theater; watched New Year concerts on the television that the father was able to purchase cheaply by way of his job; or visited artists. Or, as in the case above, because one man’s father was a musician and the other was taught to appreciate music as a seminary student. All these expressions of art were valuable for the development of aesthetic taste and for the general development of these individuals, for discovering the world and ideas and also to be able to express that they had tasted culture. Nonetheless, this was still not enough to transcend the state of being different. The overriding sense persisted of not belonging culturally; that the distinction was imposed, not chosen; that no matter how much effort was put into catching up, the others were always a step ahead to maintain the distinction. The story of the German teacher, who compares his school with that of his wife in the Gooi (southeast of Amsterdam, one of the most economically prosperous areas in the Netherlands) is illustrative: The high schools in the Gooi are in a major process of business-schoollike profiling. They offer student trips to Morocco, Senegal—just name it. Apparently the parents can afford it, all of them. The students make exam reports. Nowadays reports have to be made for everything. ( . . . ) This is the budding new elite. This thought might be nonsense but it’s my feeling that the new captains of industry are at school there, the people who are going to push the buttons in Holland. And they know how to set things up for themselves and for their children. My school (in Rotterdam) has a big foreign population—I’m not sure if it’s OK to call them that—they’re second-generation kids, but anyway they’re all disadvantaged, they don’t have the same chances to access success. ( . . . ) In any case, their school experience is incomparable. There are forty different nationalities in my school. (12_96–100) Dronkers (2007) calls this phenomenon “maximal maintained inequality” (see also Chapter 1). Striking in this respondent’s account is that the function of cultural capital includes educative methods, ideas about knowledge and education, and new criteria for testing and assessment. The moment that the children of immigrants are successful in attaining educational aims and methods, the societal elite have expanded these methods and adapted them to their lifestyle.

7.4

COMMUNICATION LAYERS BENEATH SURFACE

In closing, and in reference to the previous citation, I want to focus on the communication aspects of this sense of distinction, namely those obscured aspects. When speaking of communication, I imply that mutuality plays a

Hicks and Proletarians 185 part, but mutuality can be tied to the presumed—or not presumed—ambiguity of the message. To illustrate, I refer back to the colleague (originating from “old money”), who had borrowed lunch money from my respondent and then never repaid the loan. While my respondent points out his frugality or stinginess, or both, this is not a justification, and he presumes— which I conclude from the rest of his account—that a mixed message is concealed within. From my respondent’s perspective, failing to return the money is not simply a human flaw, such as forgetfulness or carelessness, but is rooted in a strange pattern in the person’s relationship with money. Aside from the moral aspect, my respondent is taken aback by the fact that such a wealthy individual deals with money (and thus with him) in such a manner. Based on this concealed pattern, contravening a usual business transaction—in which borrowed money is repaid—there are apparently various interpretations possible. A monetary transaction is apparently more than a practical matter; it expresses other meanings. It is highly probable that my respondent had a hunch as to the meanings. What is more, he could have simply asked for his money back, but he resisted conceding to what he believed was a provocation from the other. Significant here is the diversity of meanings regarding interaction with money. From my respondent’s point of view, money is associated with scarcity, dependence and solidarity. Even though he presently makes a good living, he is from a family where frugality was not a choice but a necessity. There was a pervasive realization that at any given moment it could come to an end and that you might just need to appeal to the help of another. In this light, reimbursing borrowed money (if necessary, a penny at a time) was not an option but an obligation that, if not met, could be penalized. In this context Bourdieu refers to “le choix du necessaire,” “le gout de necessité” and “le principe de conformité” (Bourdieu, 1984, citation from the French version, 1979: 435). In contrast, the colleague’s behavior, with his aura of old money, appears to symbolize the frugality and prudence through which the family fortune was accumulated. Although the material need for caution and thrift no longer exists, as cultural values they can be adequate for elevation above those who experience frugality and prudence as essential. As follows, a moral reversal takes place and the just restitution of borrowed money becomes secondary to the justness of the self-chosen and detached, sober lifestyle. This is a symbolic game, where proficiency (in my respondent) is lacking; the respondent has little interest in mastering the game. At the same time, in order to communicate on equal ground, it is essential. This type of behavior had bothered my respondent quite some time but he was eventually able to view it with humor. This, however, required continuous reflection, abstraction ability and distance, but most of all recognition of his own attitude. Another participant, a psychologist, categorically rejects the behavior of a colleague who trivializes the meaning of money:

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Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Without batting an eye, she says, “You know, money doesn’t play a role with us; it was never mentioned, it’s irrelevant.” She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s just shocking. How can someone say such a thing? Some people apparently have nothing to worry about; everything is handed to them—though, then again, maybe it’s not. (28_160)

It is not the message per se, but the naïveté with which it is conveyed and the lack of societal awareness, so that it is experienced as intolerable. This is a recurring theme: the earnestness and burden of our existence versus the lightness and game character of the existence of those backed by money. The relationship to money symbolizes the contrast and demonstrates that there is no comparison. Money that is always available, with no thought, is a totally unfamiliar situation. Even after having obtained a good income, the sense of self-evidence remains foreign. Furthermore, the indignation of the above respondent, illustrates that this attitude is neither something she can adopt nor would care to. More than just the ambiguous meaning of money, there is the issue of unwelcome involvement in a communication context, from which the urge is felt to disengage. Belonging to the medical profession means more than just participation the professional context. In addition, there is the context of social attitudes and rituals that one would rather not be a part of. A respondent who did his residency in the pulmonary department of a university hospital relates the following: The first week was the most brutal. We worked in the pulmonary unit and the way people were treated there was atrocious! Professor X (. . .) took us to the bed of a Turkish woman in one of the patient rooms—it must’ve been in ’79– and while a group of us stood around her, he commanded, “Turn over” (respondent imitates an affected accent) (. . .) but she didn’t react, and once again he ordered, “Turn over.” And then he says, “It’s like veterinary medicine here.” That kind of thing—it was horrible. (. . .) There were more of these types of pulmonologists. Once when there was nothing visible on an X-ray he said, “Take a look at the name; chances are it’s a foreigner.” That was typical there. (22_29–31) His instructor’s blatant racism and the ritual of putting down are both significant. Degradation and resultant hurt feelings, reproduced in hazing rituals for insiders, might well be intended to reinforce cohesion but require ruthless subjugation to the customs of this social group. Humiliation in an external context—not in a like-minded group but in the presence of other doctors and patients in a hospital—can be seen as the symbolic occupation of professional territory. Respondents seem to understand the implicit message that if they are not capable of humiliating or acknowledging that this is humiliation, then they have no business being there. Here too when subjugation to humiliation and hurt feelings is a normal condition of your own life, you prefer

Hicks and Proletarians 187 to avoid—whenever possible—being confronted with others demonstrating behavior aimed at humiliating. With a matter-of-fact attitude and resignation to the inescapability of the phenomenon, this interviewee was able to essentially deal with the blows to his sense of integrity, and he persevered. He currently works as a school doctor and feels perfectly suited to the job. Even if differentiation between professional action and the social meaning of the communication occurring within is not always possible, at the level of professional content there are various options for communicating as equals. The data, moreover, show the trend that options increase as the professional content is more centered in scientific areas. At least it appears easier to make abstract the cultural and social context and derive status from professional achievements. The profession is the focus if an individual has a career; professional knowledge is what matters and not social skills. This is, however, a different case when communication is the core area of your professional activity—for those with management positions, for example. A game-playing mind-set is almost demanded from these individuals; they must detach themselves from their own views and needs (see also Huizinga, 1950: 36) and be able to handle being the target of negative assessments and even hostility. This requires specific psychological competencies, namely the wherewithal to resist the impact negative assessments and to treat these as a game of sorts. Delineation needs to be made between one’s own viewpoints and that which one addresses on a communicative level. It is a subtle game of what can and cannot be said, through which unstable social relationships preserve balance. A key problem among the research group is the complexity of disconnecting from their own subjective perspective, especially when the subject is viewpoints and accomplishments that make it possible to distinguish themselves from others. These are in theory viewpoints such as any other, but at the same time they are in a different category simply because they symbolize other important values: the connection with the milieu of origin, for example, with the consequence that every associated conflict is experienced as a personal assault. Contrary to the area of management, the professional work field provides more options to expand upon accomplishment and simultaneously to hold responsibility and exercise influence. Communicative competencies for a managerial function in an impartial position can be seen as a form of cultural capital, which children from working-class milieus do not posses; these can, thus, only be acquired through a secondary form of socialization. However, remarkably, for their children this no longer is the case.

7.5

HOW THE NEXT GENERATION MAKES A DIFFERENCE

Partner Choice A number of male respondents have shown us how through marriage they became acquainted with another world of communication, even when the

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class difference was not that considerable, with the wife’s family “slightly higher,”—for example, at the level of a low-level administrator or bookkeeper. We have seen that a respondent’s marriage to an entrepreneur’s daughter had led to conflict. In addition, there are stories of respondents who due to lower social origin were explicitly rejected by their mothersin-law but continued the relationships. Still another, who studied later, is married to a woman from the working class, with a secondary vocational education diploma. After the marriage the woman stopped working outside the home. Numerous marriages have disintegrated, owing to—among other reasons—a workaholic partner. A respondent married to a girl from his childhood village entered a different world by means of his study: During my freshman year, my girlfriend became pregnant ( . . . ) we saw no other choice but to get married and have the baby. ( . . . ) The relationship with my wife was troubled; no raging battles—it just wasn’t working. On top of it all, I fell in love with a fellow student; she was from a higher class. The relationship went on for years but I never told my wife. We loved each other and after a while she made me choose ( . . . ) her or my family. Regardless of my love for her and that my relationship at home was not happy, I couldn’t leave my family. I felt too responsible for my wife and child and most of all ( . . . ) guilty. The internalization of the values of the Dutch Reformed Church had more power than my working-class background. (30_16) By building in an extramarital relationship with a fellow student, who moreover originated from a higher class, a connection to the higher class was symbolically executed and ties with religious principles were severed. This is a classic story, prompting a question regarding the specific meaning of the working class, unless an unconscious fear for the typical ambition of the girlfriend—previously presented—was a determining factor in his decision. This theme was not further elaborated on in this interview, but the correlation between marriage or a relationship and social mobility was addressed in another: a respondent married the daughter of an entrepreneur, signifying a major rise socially. It was, however, only following his divorce that he understood the great social impact of the marriage. He had needed her as a guide but this had also put him in a position of dependency: She was incredibly dominating ( . . . ) we met, she took me to her home and I sat there like this (with a stiffened pose). I hardly dared to move but I could put on a show and I seemed to pull it off OK. I still see myself—I (had just known) her for a couple of weeks—when a delivery from Germany was made to her house. They opened it up and there was a gorgeous antique table inside. And I said, “Hey, they sent you an old table!” And of course they laughed about that for years. (20_184)

Hicks and Proletarians 189 The blunder of an eighteen-year-old boy from the working class was met good-naturedly, whether this was an expression of acceptance of not. His being different may even have had an appeal. Still, he failed the examination. In the best case it gave a signal that he needed serious tutoring, and that worked out well for him. His father-in-law bought a fantastic building for him on a central square in the middle of town. When his wife left him, his world seemed to crumble. He was forced to leave his fashionable location and more: The loss of status was devastating. I was never suicidal, though I was crushed for years. I had lost my standing and had to start all over again. (20_195) How he dealt with this personal drama will be treated in the following chapter but particularly salient here is how it reflects the upward-mobility myth related to marriage with a “woman of means.” Countless stories and jokes are based on this topic, the persistence of which may well be tied to the desire of becoming rich without having to work for it: all that needs to be done is fall in love. In this case it was the in-laws who managed his entrance to better circles and his wife who guided the process of outward appearances. He felt comfortable in the circumstances and did quite well for himself: luxury home, lavish parties, elegant clothes and a stunningly rich wife. His story has mythological quality and is therefore a cautionary tale: the fact is that nothing lasts forever. He was unable to give a definitive answer to my earlier question, whether it was possible that the class distinction had continued to be significant. But when facing his psychological motives in retrospect, he recognized his eagerness to belong, which had led to reliance. It had just been to too easy and he had adapted too quickly. It is thus likely that this was behind the loss of his original appeal for his wife, based on being different.

Married Life At the time of the interviews, five respondents were not in a relationship. Most were married or had a steady partner. A number of the respondents are in a second or third long-term relationship but the majority of them are still together with the original partner. A classic pattern can be discerned in the story of a divorcé: I was a real, flourishing workaholic. We did have good vacations and enjoyed all kinds of activities but I must admit that I only suddenly considered that I had two daughters, six and ten years old. Time was slipping though my fi ngers—also in regard to my son. If I could do it all over again, I would do things differently. (27_32)

190 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility After his divorce he met another woman who at a given moment was offered a professorship and with whom he could build a relationship based on equality. Another man, a philosophy lecturer, explains that his wife earns more than he; he therefore distinguishes himself from his other colleagues, particularly regarding the way in which their relationship is structured. It is exceptional that his wife earns more than he does: It’s true and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Socially speaking, I think it’s an interesting phenomenon. It’s not that common. My colleagues have a housewife at home; that’s not what they say but still it’s the case. They have complete support and it’s the opposite for me. I have to really push and do a lot of the household chores. My wife is more important than I am, sociologically speaking. (6_137–139) This hardly flattering characterization of his colleagues positions him accurately in a specific segment of the intellectual class but cannot unquestionably be traced back to his working-class origin. And this can be a conclusion which is generally true for the most of my respondents: a life of the well-educated intellectual middle class is led, and this lifestyle includes a number of standards: good education for the children; home ownership, with a house located in a good neighborhood; a reasonably good to very good income; a working partner; distribution of household chores; books in the home; and furthermore (though not always), left of center, liberal political views. To speak in the terms of Bourdieu, this is a group with a great deal of cultural capital but less economic capital (Bourdieu, 1984). Globally, this group has integrally joined the well-educated middle class.

The Children Entrance into this middle class does exclude confrontational situations; when they do occur it is particularly in relationship to the children. In some cases, this can be explained by their inability to form an idea of their parents’ history. The following anecdote is the response to my question about the children’s perception of a respondent’s original milieu: Recently, on a trip to Barcelona, a bricklayer was repairing a wall and I mentioned to my kids that this had been their grandpa’s work; this information disturbed them and their reaction got to me (he shows heavy emotion). I saw that they were confused by the fact. He was a typical laborer, with pants caked with chalk and cement. Funny that this story gets to me like this. (3_168) The way of life that was left behind with pain and sacrifice is not fathomable for the children. Nonetheless the change is constructed into their

Hicks and Proletarians 191 upbringing. Another respondent, whose parents are still in the picture, has with his wife addressed the life of disparity and exclusion: I’m married and have children. Class has never really been an issue; my wife is from a farming family. It’s fascinating to me that my daughter, almost twenty-three, and son, almost twenty, have such a special background, as their mother is also very conscious of one and another. ( . . . ) We’ve always given our children whatever we could from our own background, including teaching them about how life can be different than theirs. But of course they’re just regular middle-class kids, who’ve grown up with a good measure of prosperity, but they also have a depth of understanding and it’s good to see. (2_118) The message from both above respondents is that developing a different perspective is part of their children’s upbringing so that they are equipped to see another social reality. And having these parents makes the lesson a dynamic one. On the other hand, what parents have undergone, due to cultural disparity in their class of origin, can be consciously used in childrearing. The respondent who was rejected by her affluent mother-in-law has always wanted her children to feel self-confident and believes she has succeeded in this aim. Still, the reality of belonging to another class than her parents has always created conflicting feelings. In this context she points to her sense of affinity with her Moroccan housekeeper, despite her awareness that she belongs to another class. This awareness leads to active and deep reflection and hence her problematizing the self-evidence exemplifying her children’s perception of the higher classes: The children think it’s the most natural thing in the world to go on vacation a few times a year, and then (they) complain that we don’t go skiing. My response is, “You need to wake up.” They go to (an elite school). My daughter recently came home after visiting a friend and announced that they had an indoor pool and a list of other luxuries. I told her, “If you only realized that our income is above average and that there are a lot more people who don’t have what we have. And of those luxurious people there are just a handful. Don’t think for a moment that that’s the norm and that we’re just poor slobs.” I know that’s what she calls us. And that makes me very angry.” (29_173) This mother’s childrearing strategy is an implicit and subtle persuasion by switching perspectives to explicate the social distinction. At the same time, she aims to prevent her children from accepting the norms of the upper class as standard. On the one hand, she references her own youth, having undergone a painful process to learn to view the world from a new perspective, a perspective she has transformed into a value within her approach to

192 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility childrearing. On the other hand, the message appears to reflect the tone of her own mother’s regular scolding: “Don’t go acting like you’re better than we are and thinking you’re something special.” I’ve never spoken about this nor did I ever hear a hint of pride. I suppose they were proud of me but it was never mentioned, not once, up till today. (29_45) There are valid pedagogical arguments to supporting the position that her message differed from her mother’s, it is consciously conveyed without rancor and it is substantiated. But, similar to her mother’s, it is aimed at keeping her children in their own social position and inhibiting from pursuing irresponsible adventures among the upper class. Despite all the nuance and openness, she in fact does the same as her mother. Another respondent is confronted with her daughter’s rebellious behavior. Neither of her children had completed the preliminary schooling for eligibility for university on time. Following a difficult period, her son is in the process of preparing for a performance-linked student grant for a master’s program and her daughter has a disastrous school career behind her: She smoked cannabis and skipped school—the whole mess. She hung out with losers: children under protection services and other problem kids. It was a nightmare for me. She fi nally succeeded in graduating senior general secondary education, doing two years in one. She then wanted to take a year off to do nothing, and that means nothing. My husband and I were divorced by the time she was in the fi rst grade high school and I wonder if this was part of it: a week with him, a week with me. Looking back, it’s a pity we couldn’t keep going, just few years longer. ( . . . ) When my son graduated, she was pretty impressed and announced she wanted to do legal studies at a professional university. She lives on her own now and I think that’s good for our relationship. Otherwise, I’d be constantly watching her and checking if she’s studying. I’ve got the idea she usually goes to classes and that she does some studying. I really shouldn’t interfere but you know how it goes. (28_201–205) The mother is concerned about her relationship with her daughter, and at the same time understands that her daughter has no affi nity with the type of ambition that her mother had, which meant struggling to achieve as a child from the working class. Struggle was the norm in her parental home and this is the mentality from which she approaches her own children: Hard work to move up, diplomas matter—it’s not part of their mind-set. But then again, maybe they are (moving this direction) slowly but surely, but not because I worked so hard to get somewhere. I recently went to a lecture about Israeli women. They all had mothers who fled after the war

Hicks and Proletarians 193 and had to start again to make a life; they had their own families. It was incredibly hard. They raised their children and gave them the chance for education. And the daughters all made a mess of their lives, disappointing their mothers terribly. It was analyzed as follows: All that the mothers unconsciously felt had to continue, and everything that was counter to their struggle to survive, was transferred to their daughters, on a subliminal level, and the daughters acted it out. When I heard this, I thought that could be something similar going on with my daughter (. . .). The idea that someone who had everything handed to her—a good school and education—would just throw it away was unbearable to me. She must’ve sensed that. I have no idea how it actually works but I think it plays a part, unconsciously and unintentionally. (28_209–213) Did the mother, in her encouragement to work and study hard, unconsciously transfer to her daughter her own fight to catch up and all that she had lacked? In any case, her daughter, a child from different class and generation, had had a different upbringing than her mother. However, the importance of attachment to the study is a commonality in the accounts about children with successful educational careers. This is viewed as a guarantee for upward social mobility, achieved by parents (and oftentimes put into motion in an earlier generation) and which can continue through following generations. In this sense, there a meritocratic route certainly exists, stretching though the generations.

Middle-Class Families In regard to educational aspirations, we are dealing here with middle-class families with related ambitions, but also similar dilemmas and hurdles. In the case that (grand) parents are still alive, the past, in a sense, still lives on, but as a marginal phenomenon, of sorts. Moreover, the grandparents have also been though a growing process. If the working-class element has meaning for my research participants (in regard to their professional identity, for instance), this no longer exists for their children. There is only a tendency to look back to personal history in the case of problems related to childrearing. It is, in all probability, not a coincidence that conflict with children regarding university education mostly occurs when children do not see its importance. Besides the individual relational issues accompanying this matter, the children ultimately belong to a different class and generation, where other meanings about study and education pertain. However, usually children follow the path that parents set out for them, based on their own education and profession. In this way, they separate themselves, by way of their children, more and more from the class they have come from. This is considered to be only normal but can also elicit feelings of estrangement and disbelief, namely when it seems as if the children have no inkling about, or react negatively to their working-class background.

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7.6

CONCLUSION

At fi rst glance, the way in which respondents structure their lives, the homes they live in and the manner in which they raise (or have raised) their children cannot be distinguished from the social group in which they have come to belong, by way of their education and occupation. Most earn a good living; in most cases both partners have an income. They value culture and literature, are interested in societal and intellectual issues, and usually live in good neighborhoods, and their children are well educated (at university) or are on the path to a good education. Excluding limited exceptions—related to careers that are incompatible with educational level—this is a socially successful group with a highly developed professional profi le. Generally speaking, these individuals are, in terms of lifestyle attitudes, integrated in the professional and intellectual middle class, so much so that the respondents’ background (and the partners’) are not a topic of discussion during childrearing. Sense and meaning is given to career and course of life thorough this actual context. An acute awareness of origin continues to exist as well as its manyfaceted meanings. Confrontations with the old and new milieus have taken place. All the narratives illustrate a shared sense that it has been more of an uphill climb for these individuals than for the “others”; that their social networks are not well positioned; and that they have been prodded, tested and judged. Social behavior, codes and entrance criteria prove that the necessary cultural capital is lacking, and, from the vantage point of the old boys’ network and the insiders, they do not belong. However, from a professional point of view, this is an altogether different matter. Therefore, integration into the social class they have come to belong to—by way of their education and occupation as well as the construction of accompanying identity—has the character of a nonlinear and at times disparate pattern. Even when rooted in the one world, the other is still present on the level of meaning. This ambiguity can be a burden but at the same time can be a benefit. The latter includes the ability to comprehend the relativity of positions, recognize and utilize different perspectives and deal with setbacks. The drawback is that ambiguity is a lasting experience. The sense of feeling completely comfortable in the new circle is a consequence of effort, which in itself is a contradiction in terms. Therefore, in reference to Giddens (2005), diversity and contradictions have become the conditions of the individualized existence: feeling at home in one’s actual living environment is accompanied by distance and reflection; distance from meanings acquired earlier, includes falling back on these to cope with discomfort and rejection; and experiencing open communication is liberating, though one may not be able to summon it spontaneously, whenever it might be needed.

8

Reflections The Part I Have Played

8.1

AN INDIVIDUALIZED TRACK

Until this point, my focus has been on the meanings of the social and cultural contexts. This can thus lead to the notion that contextual antecedents determine a biography’s plot, based on this motto: “Blame it on my background.” In this chapter, I will provide evidence that there is more to the total picture and that each and every participant explicitly mentions his or her individual input. All have taken both action and initiative and speak of the competencies and shortcomings that have been a support or an obstacle. Nonetheless, in some I have detected an inclination to present themselves as the object of the social and cultural context. At the same time, there were none who viewed themselves as subjects or as central agents planning and executing their life course. Still, the group is aware of both the meaning of the context and the meaning of their own actions within the context. It was not uncommon for respondents to be incapable of indicating where responsibility for a particular development or event lies, whether with themselves, a specific incentive of the social environment, or from barriers created by that environment. In the fi rst place, I have looked into the personal qualities my respondents have exercised in order to construct identity. Next, I have treated those personality traits that, according to these individuals, have been an obstruction to their lives and careers. This division is, in effect, arbitrary and not always defi nitive; at times respondents describe certain qualities as a response to a deficiency. Finally, I treat a number of dilemmas that have arisen in this chapter’s interviews, those I consider significant for the power of identity. Here too the distinction, when considering the former sections, may appear arbitrary. Despite the intermingling of these perspectives, and a sometimes-tentative distinction, I utilize these as a practical step; these provide a more lucid understanding of the meaning of identity capital and how reinforcing or destructive qualities, or both, are at work. The question, in accordance with Hall (1996), is ultimately if respondents have succeeded in the creation of their own “home.” The concept of personal input can be

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difficult to separate from the meaning of the context. This chapter is thus limited to statements in which respondents explicitly relate matters within the realm of their own capabilities and actions. Treated here, in addition, are explicit references to “identity”—in most cases within the “classic” meaning of self-awareness and self-loyalty. With Giddens’s statement in mind that an autobiography is a “corrective intervention into the past, not merely a chronicle of elapsed events” (Giddens, 2005: 72), it follows that autobiography can lead to the presentation of the self as a subject retrospectively applying a credible presentation of coherence to the biographical narrative. Thus, respondents may relate their life stories as a representation of a strategic planning of their lives (Giddens 2005: 85). In this chapter I substantiate my assertion that there is ostensibly very little “strategic life-planning,” not even in the “retrospective reconstruction.” Most stories are fragmentarily presented as reactions to the opportunities and prospects that presented themselves within the context. They show a series of trial and error, an effort to catch up on what had been missed and so forth. This does not indicate that Giddens is disproved. All respondents used the language and the discourse of our times for their stories and emphasize aspects that they would have unlikely emphasized in other times and under other circumstances. But also notable is that the majority are highly aware of these discourse differences and utilize these often as a theme—for example, by comparing their chances to develop further with those of their children. On the other hand, these discourse divergences do not lead to rejection of the old discourse. It is the case that almost all participants have had difficulty with the insular parental culture. A number of these were very explicit about this (namely women respondents). Others were apologetic and sympathetic, with comments such as “that’s just the way it was then” or “they didn’t know any better.” In that sense the old discourse continues to be relevant and, in my view, has everything to do with the manner in which the parental meaning is incorporated into their identity construction. It is therefore more than a subject’s story but, in addition, the context that follows that is of influence. This dynamic must be taken into consideration.

8.2

INDIVIDUAL QUALITIES

A Sturdy Character It takes a formidable nature to persevere and succeed in life and career, deal with challenges, overcome obstacles and resolve crises. A respondent who speaks from experiences relays the following: There’s no way of getting around it; you have got to get through it all; only the strong survive. I’m talking about the working-class milieu I’m

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from ( . . . ). You have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You’ve got to integrate all those things you’ve missed out on and once you’ve done it, that’s when it gets good. (17_65) With his strength of character, he was able to adopt “all those things” needed, to be able to succeed and deal with the associated crises. His consistent strategy was to concentrate on his aims, start once again and never stop fighting. This, he explained, was the essential mind-set for those from the working class in order to face the challenge: I’ve met a number of people who just couldn’t do it. They simply withdrew back into themselves. They just couldn’t take being labeled as not belonging in those circles even though they were in college. You have to be tough to put up with it. It’s either your DNA or your upbringing, probably both. (17_177–178) Whether it is genetic makeup or a product of upbringing is of little consequence. What matters is the effort, put into the process. There has to be a total commitment for integration into the new milieu, he says, and character and perseverance are useful traits to meet the challenge. This can help to deflect the inevitable frustrations accompanying integration into the other culture. Illustrative here are the painful confrontations with other medical students against the backdrop of fraternity traditions. He relays several incidents, in which he went out of his way to avoid confrontation, and he expresses regret about this—it had affected his self-respect and he felt this to be self-betrayal.

Ambition and Work Ethics Others explain this inner strength in terms of vigor or an ambition to work as hard as it takes to develop professionally and to deliver to perfection. The ophthalmologist sketches something close to professional ambition without end: This is my calling; I’m terribly ambitious and I’ve always wanted to surpass myself. I see colleagues that retreat into a hospital after med school and stay till retirement. Just the thought makes me cringe. (26_84) ( . . . ) Things work out like they do but still I think sometimes that I should’ve planned better. But that’s hindsight. Still, I would’ve if I had known better. In a way, I’m pretty adventurous but still, fi rmly fi xed. I’d have to think long and hard before taking a new job. (26_114–118) Her story reflects mixed feelings on several levels: on the one hand, she put in a tremendous professional effort as an ophthalmologist but at the same time realizes it is too late to reach the top of her field. Ambition and staying

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power are thus not enough to compensate for lack of planning. Preceding her study, she was unaware that planning was called for, or even an option. This does not imply that at the moment of the interview she did not have formidable ambitions but at the same these were not free of fear of the unknown. These feelings of ambivalence are likely familiar to many—no matter what their milieu—but remarkable in this narrative is the surprise she feels as to the fruits of her ambition: I believe I have entrepreneurial qualities. My name is on the website of some English professional organization. And when the e-mails from England start pouring in, I wonder what I’ve taken on. It’s intimidating. Still, the emails are inspiring and I see that all those people want to support me. And my partner says, “What do you think? It’s in their interest because you’re going to do work for them.” I just tell him it’s really something that they respond. (26_103) Staying power and ambition can compensate for the lagging behind and lack of planning to a certain extent. But they have no influence on the feeling of surprise about successful outcomes. Even in light of her strength, ambition and determination, it appears as if she has to convince herself more of the credit she deserves than others. In Chapter 2, I described the imposter syndrome or the sense of being an intruder in another world, in relationship to this outlook. According to Ryan and Sackrey (1996), this issue of “professional legitimatization” reflects the need to preserve the “original-self” and prove that belonging to the higher classes has left the individual in question unchanged. In fact, it transmits the message that arrival in the upper classes has been a matter of chance, for which the individual has had no influence and is still the same person as always. The statements of this respondent, however, fall short of entirely fitting the hypothesis. The ophthalmologist’s account does not demonstrate a sense of reaching her position by chance. What is more, a longing to be seen for who she is, and not what she is, is behind her attempts to justify her need for her parents’ recognition and to convince her brother of the legitimacy of her salary. It appears here that her childhood home remains her frame of reference but still does not serve to obstruct her ambition and personal growth. From my point of view, the dynamics involved here are underemphasized by Ryan and Sackrey. Professional and cultural development do not, in her experience, involve disloyalty to her milieu of origin and thus herself. In addition, the self-evidence of the connection is contradicted by several respondents. By continuing to study, they experience their former milieu as a source of rejection and contra identification. Moreover, a “former self,” to which individuals long to remain loyal, has more of an aura of originality than the “self” they have later become. Both the paradox of the rejection from the milieu of origin and the crises caused by the transition to the new one illustrate the influence of identification with the

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family background. At the same time, these aspects reflect the power of ambition and the urge to leave and make personal choices for the future. It is precisely at the professional level where ambition can develop. However, it does not automatically follow that loyalty to background is related to a romantic notion. The data from my research demonstrate that loyalty lies more in the recognition and acceptance of the meanings that origin plays in shaping ambition and professionalism.

Intelligence and Other Qualities The majority of respondents had been good students and gifted with intellectual aptitude. They were inquisitive and voracious readers: I remember always having a hunger to learn. But you only understand that later. I read at every opportunity. I was the only one at home who was a member of the library—at least, the fi rst one ( . . . ). I went every week, if not every day it was open. We lived close to my elementary school and if I didn’t do well (especially in the fi rst grade) or had a low grade for something it could really get to me. My father could tell what grade I’d gotten just by my expression. Even with good grades, I wasn’t always satisfied. (26_55) Books were read in some of the families but there is little indication that there is direct connection between this fact and the children’s desire to study further—which does not mean there was no link. Reading can be a means of expanding perspective and intellectual development. But this was not the only means. Most participants lived in a milieu where the practical relationship with the world was central; this matter-of-fact approach also provided possibilities for experimentation and growth. The cardiologist had initially explored the option of a study in the science, which fit with his interest in handcraft. We built a neighborhood telephone exchange with five boys. We were connected by way of our roofs so we could use it to call each other. I fi rst had to transfer the calls but later I created a system for direct connection. I made electrical blueprints for everything I built and made detailed preparation and studied everything thoroughly. I had an enormous technical interest, undoubtedly from my father; that’s why I went to technical college. (4_66) All respondents were good students and intelligent, and the majority had worked hard for success. There were also a few individuals who had to get beyond a certain laziness learned from the childhood home (“we were brilliant so didn’t see the need to put in an effort”). But escapism was also an issue. One respondent, who later earned her master’s degree by way of second-chance

200 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility education, had no desire to go to the university preparatory program in high school because a girlfriend and she were not prepared to be “humiliated by those stuck-up doctors’ sons and teachers’ daughters.” There were countless channels for developing intelligence but the difficulty was discovering and finding access to the appropriate one—and this was frequently experienced among my respondents. Even more remarkable is that intelligence is not always mentioned and that it is surrounded by a taboo of sorts. The parents supported education for their children but one that was limited (see Chapter 4) and when the children surpassed them intellectually, they felt it as a threat (see Chapters 5 and 6). The following citation is telling in this context: I was tested—my mother ( . . . ) had read in the paper that children from low-income families could be tested for free. My brother and I were tested but my parents kept the results secret. Because they were afraid it would go to my head. I had the biggest mouth, of course; verbally, I was the strongest. (20_81) “Protection” against possible conceit is at issue in this case. In others, parents were in a certain sense jealous and in still others what appeared to be disproportional punishment for minor trespasses seemed like vengeance. Every interviewee who underwent this treatment had taken it personally but showed understanding of the behavior at the same time. They tried to overlook their discontent, stayed loyal, and redirected the blame on themselves as the source of confl ict, hence symbolically denying the actual cause, while debasing their intelligence and themselves. Still, this not a static condition. Though awkward, they could get beyond it. As was conveyed in an earlier citation, intelligence can be discovered and developed further. The real discovery, for one woman, was that intelligence is a force that can be put to use. This meant arriving in a totally unfamiliar work setting: This was my fi rst confrontation with people from another milieu, with other values and norms. Their politics were to the right and that was hard to deal with too. It was treacherous, in addition—everybody vying for the boss’s favor. (9_36-40) ( . . . ) it was my choice: I’m too smart to blame anybody else. So I worked like a demon, did what I was good at and used my brains. ( . . . ) Apparently, that’s one of my strong points and something I needed to fi nd out. (9_45–47) Conspicuous here is her statement that the value of intelligence is the consequence of a journey of discovery and a choice imbedded in processes of overcoming feelings of inferiority, gaining self-confidence and learning to accurately assess. This does not take a linear course. It is instead a zigzag

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of trial and error: fi rst and foremost a process of discovery and not patently obvious decisive moments.

Reserve and a Talent for Relativism Not all interviewees showed reserve. Some discussed their achievements— and these were hardly trivial—with unconcealed pride. There were also those who without a trace of reticence blamed their shortage of success on “circumstances.” The ambiguousness of modesty was mentioned repeatedly. Too much modesty can get in the way. A respondent referring to her upbringing relays the following: Because you’re supposed to behave conventionally, you’re not allowed to think that you’re anything special. “Do what you’re supposed to do”? It’s a certain kind of modesty. And I believe modesty is a virtue but especially at those moments, hard when you want to show what you’re capable of and good at. Some people think they’re really something ( . . . ). It’s often the biggest loudmouths who are constantly bragging about their achievements, and then I think, “Is that such a big deal? It’s all pretty useless.” ( . . . ) My boss—now that’s someone who’s not troubled whatsoever by the slightest modesty. (29_34–38) This appeal contains various meanings of modesty. On the one hand, there is the getting beyond the false modesty of the parental message with the questions “Are you out of your mind?” and “Who do you think you are?,” and conversely, criticism of the immodest “noise without content.” Although she does not care to associate with the noisemakers, there is, in fact, a concealed itch: I was offered the position of division head but refused. I felt flattered but immediately started to wonder if I could do it. But to be honest, I really don’t want the job because I’d rather be involved with content. I’m not interested in organizational things or climbing the career ladder. But more than anything, I’m not interested in working fi fty-hour weeks. (29_139–147) This woman leaves no room for misunderstanding that behind her modesty is her preference for content or professionalism. Another respondent is also very aware of the underlying motives of his reserve: I can say that during my entire academic career, I’ve been begging to hear the words “( . . . ) well done!” from my superiors. They never acknowledge my work in any way, shape or form. I assume because I need to hear it so badly. I guess I’m just too eager. (6_130)

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At one point during the interview this man states that it is certainly worth the effort to leave behind the mind-set of “knowing one’s place,” but despite this he realizes something in him stands in the way of truly overcoming his feeling of inferiority. Therefore, he feels unsafe in social situations: I always have to get over an aversion to attend receptions. (He pauses.) It’s not so much the people but instead the obligation I feel to open up and show active interest. It doesn’t come naturally. I guess you could say it’s the way I’m wired (. . .) my psychological make-up, but this has found a fertile ground in my upbringing. (. . .) If I’d been born in my wife’s family that would definitely have turned out differently for me. (6_46 –49) In essence, he says that he feels he is entitled to be who he is, receives recognition and has social skills, but that he does not feel these matters to be self-evident. During an interview with another respondent, the matter of an automatic right to be “who you are” comes up: This is really well described by Safranski in his biography of Schopenhauer. Schopenhauer had an especially difficult relationship with his mother. She gave him the feeling—that he was, worthless ( . . . ). This consequently was the motivation for Schopenhauer to consider this phenomenon. I could really relate to this; there was an immediate recognition. (3_147) The sense of obligatory self-effacement could be labeled as an extreme form of modesty. On the other hand, modesty can be perceived as a transformation of this feeling to an acceptable presentation of the individual in question. These participants had to overcome a hurdle in order to be convinced of their own qualities. Most respondents are able to put these feelings behind them—with more or less success—and this has had its rewards. A certain ability to put things into perspective and a detachment regarding the approach towards the others—and to the “middle classers” in particular—is developed in their stead. I refer here to the pharmacologist, who feels a lacking ability to “swim” in his adopted milieu. At the same time, so he says, he has the capacity to observe more “fundamentally,” to view reality as multifaceted and to transcend the limited perspective of the social group in which he has arrived. This is the type of modesty that “puts the viewpoints into perspective,” with which social reality is perceived: I recently mentioned to a colleague that we should hire someone in the department for cleaning the glasswork and other menial tasks, and he told me, “You just want to pass the work off on someone else.” I told him this wasn’t the case and I agreed that though it was a low-level job I was one of the few there that held interesting lectures and published

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articles ( . . . ) and still cleaned lab tables or washed glasses or anything else that was needed to get results. My idea was that if we had someone for cleaning, for instance, that it is especially important that that person knows that his or her work is also essential and he or she is a vital link in the organization as a whole. (2_44–47) No matter how menial the job, every form of labor is valuable because it is a link in the societal chain. In order to see through the so-called humane standpoints regarding labor, actual experience with the “real-life perspective” of labor and the labor process is essential. The following is his answer to my question of whether his acknowledgement of the significance of every link is related to his working-class background: I think that this was the attitude at home. We had a wood stove (in) my youth and I always got up early in to chop wood, to light the fi re. We couldn’t afford to let it burn all night long and it was dangerous too. It doesn’t bring back a single bad memory. Now you’d say that it was intolerable for a child of six to chop wood in the cold at six in the morning. Someone might even alert child protection services. I really didn’t mind; I even enjoyed it. (2_52) This associated memory of his childhood chore takes on a symbolic and central significance in the process of the acquisition of meaning. He understands that the views in this area have since changed but these do not comprise grounds for doubting the value of his experience; in fact, the opposite applies. The experience as a child of feeling truly useful continues to inspire his views; with these he distinguishes himself from the limited perspective with which his colleagues approaches societal reality. Up until this point, I have examined personal qualities that have been favorable to a successful life and career. These have facilitated social transition, while simultaneously making it possible to stand out in both professional and personal areas. However, it is extraordinary to note that these qualities also entailed weaknesses or were utilized in order to eliminate deficiencies. In the following section I explore personality traits and their meaning to identity construction that respondents characterize as weaknesses. It applies here too that strengths can become visible by way of so-called weaknesses.

8.3

ANGST, FAILURE, AND OTHER DISTRESS

The Art of Bluff Those from working-class backgrounds who aim for management functions are at risk of making use of bluff and self-inflation. According to an interviewee, this is meant to compensate for the fear for responsibility.

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This fear, as she sees it, partially stems from the defiant attitude learned from her father. She says, in essence, that as a laborer’s daughter she never acquired the internal framework to carry responsibility. Her sister has a similar makeup and her pursuit for management responsibility ended in a major debacle: My sister has always overinflated herself in her directorships. She’s presently director of a small organization but she was director of (a large national lobby group), which turned out to be a disaster. She bluffed her whole life and this was defi nitely class-related. Her friends were always children of doctors and clergy and this was clearly her frame of reference. She just had to play tennis and wear expensive clothes, while my parents couldn’t afford it. She’s always wanted to belong so badly and now she needs to dine out at expensive restaurants and (drink) wine, asking for the wine list, you know. I always thought it was superficial and snobbish. (29_142) Her implicit message is that self-inflation can indicate a lifestyle that is in actuality not comfortable for a child from the working class, one that has not been learned naturally. One is not only ill equipped to carry the responsibility but, in addition, the accompanying luxury. Notwithstanding possible resentment towards the sister, the “reality” is that expensive restaurants and knowledge of wine are irrelevant for talent in top management. It is no more than an instrument for bluffi ng in order to conceal incompetence.

Social Angst In its seemingly innocuous form, social angst appears—as is shown by Brands (1992) and in numerous working-class academics’ essays—as awkwardness during receptions and other social obligations. The high school principal attempts to avoid these situations by sending her vice principal in her place. I’ve never gotten over it. I feel constant self-doubt when I enter the venue of these events and wonder what they are going to think about me: “Am I stupid or (do I) seem stupid?” or “How do I start a conversation?” Social talk is not my thing! (32_76) Despite her reputation as a strong individual with leadership qualities, she feels her stupidity and incompetence is too exposed to start a conversation. It is in these circumstances that the imposter syndrome raises its ugly head once again. The key question is therefore why receptions and the like are the ideal places for experiences of this nature, namely situations that are arranged according to social and not professional standards. Social codes and rituals of the social class apply here, and a professional approach is

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of little use. The sensed social relationships here thus gain more relative significance than defi ned social relationships. And this, at best, is accompanied by awkwardness and, even worse, tension and suspicion. A university lecturer experiences such social events as follows: (Sighs.) Yes, there’s no end to what goes on in those conversations between people and I observe it all and I cramp up. I know that they’re making all kinds of arrangements and deals with each other. And then again, they’re not because it’s just a lot of senseless chatter. But I know that while they’re chattering about inanities they’ve got their hidden agendas in mind. But they’re always babbling and so it doesn’t matter if they do it at a cocktail party, tomorrow at the water cooler or on the phone this evening to discuss things further. It would cost me so much excess energy and time to keep up a relaxed relationship with that network that my job would suffer. (6_59) This is a remarkable statement due to the link he makes with a social network that he does not belong to and does not strive toward. What he already knows is confi rmed at receptions: he does not master the games played there and, if anything, he feels inhibited. He characterizes the social significance of chatter and inanity as a relaxed sustaining of a social network. From his point of view, this behavior would result in neglect of his work, due to all the time and energy it would cost him, and this is striking here. Whether the issue for him is not wanting or inability to play the game is secondary; he feels his “work” is more important and therefore places social events outside the work sphere. But the significance surfacing in his story is his understanding that this is not the attitude of the others. And this lies behind his sense of social vulnerability. This attitude is not shared by all respondents. Another university lecturer had little difficulty, either attending social events or relating to authority. This, however, could not prevent his being marginalized in the course of time. Even without a dissertation and publications to his name, he saw himself as functioning well in an intensified teaching method, which at a certain point no longer met the demand of changing academic quality criteria. There was, however, another underlying story, which he openly shared: I never succeeded writing a good proposal for my dissertation. I probably submitted ten concepts in total. I suffered so badly from writing anxiety, as I did from anxiety of speaking in public and status insecurity. I functioned just fi ne in small work groups and was praised due to my extensive knowledge. I read everything there was to know in my field and all things related. As long as I had my defined borders, I felt great and functioned well for twenty years. Everyone at the (university) was content and gave me the liberty I needed to do my work. (30_27–28)

206 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility Fear of writing, fear of speaking in public, status insecurity, and clearly defi ned working conditions in order to maintain control: his response to my query about these facts relate to his background is, in a sense, alarming. It suggests that he, in essence, was not suited for an academic career. He is unable to simply state if his fears are in some way related to his class background: It also had to do with me. I spoke to the university psychologist at the time. It defi nitely has to do with me. My wife ( . . . ) says I have a talent for bringing people together, as an advisor or committee chair. I was actually born in the wrong era. But back then university was where you went automatically. (30_32) The last sentence about the meaning of university as a status symbol is revealing—at least that was the case in those times. For this individual—but also for others, and I am among the—studying and working in a university had a mythological meaning of sorts. It symbolized the utmost reachable goal for a child from the working class. But university work is also a daily practice demanding certain competencies, such as attaining a doctorate, publications, and public speaking. Angst can be a trying obstacle and is undeniably a personal problem. The question of whether, based on competencies, university was the right choice went unquestioned. Another university lecturer, who had done a great deal of high-level administrative work, also pointed to what he calls social angst. His story is treated in depth in the last chapter, with regard to his “marriage to a wealthy woman.” His upbringing, in which classical music played an important differentiating role, and his education—reinforced by his engagement—had made him feel he was special. (20_45) As a student, he accepted a seat on the faculty board: I was a member of the council’s board then and had to act once as spokesperson. I’d break into a cold sweat. It was that social angst, and so obvious. Looking back, I never should have taken the job or should’ve gone into therapy, or even done a training to learn how to handle it. I thought I had to do everything myself, and it got worse and worse. I had sleepless nights, believe me. (20_99–104) These top administrative functions provided him with status and attention but an inner basis was lacking, and at the same time worked counterproductively. The situation was only exacerbated in his function as university lecturer: It was much worse there ( . . . ) because I had to lecture in an enormous hall with about 250 students. I can still see myself there: as proud as can be that they wanted me but at the same time the fear: How was I

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supposed to pull it off? ( . . . ) I sweat(ed) bullets for years—but I did it by writing out my entire lecture, word for word. (20_113) It should be noted that he mentioned he was always conscious of his limitations: I was forced to exceed my limits and I had to catch up with myself, as it were. But I kept telling myself that would come later. It all went much too fast. There has to be a natural turn of events and I hadn’t earned it on my own accord. If you make it from newspaper boy to millionaire, you have to work like a demon and you can at least tell the people under you that you’ve done it yourself. I didn’t feel I had. (20_197) That was a lesson learned in his youth: the things you do yourself are worth more than those handed to you: Exactly: it wasn’t mine! We didn’t have much and I clearly remember that as a child, my father went to a flea market. We bought a bicycle frame there, a wheel and handlebars and I assembled my own bike ( . . . ). And for five guilders, I had a wonderful green bike, made with my own two hands; and I remember thinking that because I made it myself it was a lot more valuable than my friends’ bikes. This is so deeply ingrained in me: what you’ve done yourself is much more precious than what you’ve been given without earning it. (20_206) As we have seen from the previous respondent who related the story of his chopping wood as a child, the memory of the self-made bicycle is a crucial metaphor for connection and fulfills a function to the past; it is simultaneously a symbol for the recovery of a sense of reality. However, in most cases the opposite is true. Serious personal crises, including panic, are especially related to the inability to adapt, bafflement by the new circles and a desperate search for the remnants of the former milieu, from which rejection has since been endured. One respondent felt utterly forlorn and estranged in his university town, while seriously doubting the choice of his choice of study. I went home every weekend in my freshman year. I thought like a laborer: there’s work and there’s going out. You studied to get a good job later. I had never even thought about the motivation to be really good at something ( . . . ). You just did what you were supposed to do to pass your exams. (3_86) Contacts and discussions with co-students and negative experiences during his medical study led to a process of self-awareness, and he ultimately decided to switch study to sociology. But a random comment he made during the interview is especially significant for understanding the emotional

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impact of his change of heart: following his switch, his mother never showed the slightest interest in his study or graduation. Here too the myth of a university study as the privileged course leading to social mobility for intelligent children is pinpointed: medical school represents the ultimate fulfillment of the myth. For parents, this status myth was moreover restricted to studies with a visible outcome of status. I refer here once again to the notion of “Seinsvergessenheit,” which another respondent testified he had experienced and which was manifested in his question, “Who am I really and where do I belong?” Loneliness and feeling out of place did not always result in a severe identity crisis, however. The story of a chemistry professor about his study experience is in contrast to the intensity of these crises: Sometimes I’d be sitting in a lecture hall and suddenly would wonder who I was and what I was doing there. I’d be overcome with a nervous and peculiar sense and I continued to feel it during all the years I was there. And that has to do with—I believe—the fact that I had never gotten any substantial support for my study, for itself. My father only stimulated me to arrange matters properly. (27_29) Whether the emotions in question were intense and due to crises or just tension and a sense of unsettledness, making the break with home is key. And this was not a simple task for many in the group. If these emotions can be attributed to a lack of substantial stimulation, an upbringing with mixed messages or estrangement and rejection, the questions behind them are: How do I deal with them? How do I learn to live with them? To paraphrase the words of the previous respondent: I was encouraged but wasn’t given any real substance leading to search for the source of substance in, in order to discover the best in myself. In order to understand the intensity of the identity crisis, an explicit personality and a developmental psychological component must certainly be considered. Research material also shows numerous indications of the role played by social and cultural distance between the milieus. Nevertheless, it is not the “objective difference” determining the intensity of the crisis but the personal experience of the disparity. As repeatedly indicated by respondents, this sentiment is related to the beginning and growth of new needs and longings, as well as the sense that there is no way back—and no desire to return. It is imperative that these dilemmas be dealt with.

8.4

DILEMMAS AND CONFLICTS

Do Choices Really Exist? In the first and third chapters, I considered the relativity of the contrast between the notions of choice and standard biography by relating these to the

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social context of the process of individualization. The question I treat here is whether, despite the fact that my respondents’ biographies demonstrate a strong individualized character, there is even a question of choice in the direction the biography is given. Even when choices are indicated, what actually occurred appears to be inevitable. The so-called choice is thus a necessity of sorts, motivated by a fear of otherwise not being equipped to deal with the situation. Using the term “choice” is oftentimes a way to envision circumstances instead of conveying something that was consciously chosen. Though decisions were made, there were other factors related to these decisions that may have carried more weight than the actual moment of choice. The “choice” of a respondent to leave the seminary illustrates this ambiguity: I went through this many years ago in the seminary, when I had to make a decision and I decided to leave. I couldn’t tolerate it any more but it was an uncertain step. It was terribly hard to go, because I didn’t really have a good reason. If you’re in love with someone, now that’s a reason. But is boredom a reason to leave? (18_61) In order to convince himself that there was no alternative, the interviewee above portrayed events as less complicated and with less nuance and thus as a choice. There were also cases where there was no question of choice whatsoever, and individuals simply acted without any noteworthy consideration or thought, based on what they were good at. Only later—such as in an interview—meaning is attached to the event. One respondent relays the following: I’m not sure if it has to do with the fact that I had fallen into the role of joker for a while. I could always make people laugh, even as a child. It was really a kind of self-deprecating humor and I’d use it when I felt ill at ease, to still be able to have some influence and control. I’d behave like this at school and later during meetings. I could be pretty crude at times. (10_37) Even though the role taken on could be labeled a choice, he describes it as a personal strategy to handle the reality of situations in which he finds himself. In doing so, he points to a crucial facet of identity construction, namely getting a grip on his environment by presenting himself in a certain form. This presentation holds the environmental perception, as well as his own sensitivity. In the above example, the environment implies uneasiness, undoubtedly calling for influence and power, and he opts for the joker role to exercise these. He could have withdrawn within himself and gone his own way. But considering his nature and temperament, this was highly unlikely.

The Layers of Identity Construction Despite the outspoken temperament of this respondent, the social conditions of his background and the complex relationship with his parents in his personal

210 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility history, he is exemplary for the meaning of identity construction. One the one hand, he had to leave behind social and identification residues as well as desires and conflicting experiences. And there was the continuous pressure to finetune to the demands of the actual social context, on the other. In addition, his path was anything but direct. He took a long break from his study and gained public attention through his work with a locally known rock band. Nonetheless, he feels relatively comfortable in his current situation. Even with his inclination to present himself with his rarities and exceptionalities, these are the facilitators for his authentic being. Moreover, he takes responsibility for his own actions and thus guarantees consistency for the others: he knows he can be depended on to play the joker; he feels more affinity with junkies and other marginalized individuals than with frat boys. But he also understands his own aversion for complacent criticism. He also tells about his need for an “occasional line” (cocaine) and that as a womanizer he ultimately is on his own with the raising of his own sons—and that he is not satisfied with these circumstances. The ambiguity as he sees it, especially stems from his youth in a working-class family with strained relationships and mixed messages received during his upbringing. The first task in constructing identity is to find a form for the ambiguity of feeling connected to two social milieus. Discontinuity and Ambiguity All respondents had to reconcile the messages relayed during their upbringing, the demands of their new milieu and the measure of eventually achieved success. A clear majority experienced this as a breach in the continuity of their personal development. For most, the experience was not as overt or intense as the biographical narrative above. Nor did any of the interviewees have the sense of being totally misplaced at the university, due to “a laborer’s status.” Nevertheless—and this applied especially to those who had gone directly to college following high school graduation, there was “a moment of truth” or the realization that, in fact, their old home belonged to the past and there was no way back. However, it entailed so much more than instantly adopting a new social identity or leaving the former environment behind. Even though there were those who felt that leaving was the only way to start anew, for most it was meant creating a synthesis between the qualities of the old and new milieu. Or more pointedly, there were certain qualities required from the old milieu to survive in the new, and afterward to integrate. This was a longtime and gradual process with unavoidable crises, and there was no way to select an alternative without penalty (such as the myth of marrying a wealthy woman). If following the debacle, the disillusioned and hurt party was back on his feet, he could attribute his recovery to the message gotten from home and once again taken to heart: an achievement is only valuable if it has been earned with your own hard work. The persistence of this ambiguity is demonstrated in professional situations of success, where strength gained from the working-class background

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could be effectively utilized. At the same time, this led to vulnerability when those who had no inkling of these emotions expressed criticism regarding the respondents’ professional quality, even legitimately, making respondents feel as if they were being attacked personally. And, hence, a politician points to his own youth in his old working-class neighborhood to put the commotion regarding Moroccan immigrant street youth into perspective. The behavior of these boys leaves him unperturbed, unlike his response to the effects of the widespread debate about the topic: Violence in our youth was limited to each other. This was not directed towards robbing elderly women. That was taboo in those days. What we did do was steal an LP or a bottle of soda, take the steering column from a motor bike to put on your bicycle, or drive a mean neighbor to desperation by throwing iron screws at his window pane, and, not to forget taking care of the occasional adult, suited for our treatment ( . . . ) this was what we did. ( . . . ) The behavior of those street kids that really crosses the limit—there shouldn’t be the slightest misunderstanding about this—( . . . ) but it shouldn’t get anybody too ruffled. They’ll turn out OK. (14_115) The pediatrician for a problem neighborhood in a major city recognizes his old environment in his patients. When I see the Turks, I see my father’s generation; it’s amazing to see. I always talked to those people. And whatever Dutch weakness you see in my office, that reminds me of my mother’s family. They all ended up in special ed. (He laughs.) (22_68) Still another physician discusses the same topic but comments on an additional aspect: Coming from a lower-class family has had its advantages. It has given me a better understanding of patients—for instance, someone who is unemployed or worries about losing a job or simply doesn’t understand what is going on around him. It makes the conversation easier (that I understand) and closes the gap and that makes it more comfortable. I’ve spoken to colleagues about it and they don’t have the same experience—those who come from doctor’s families and have traveled all over the world don’t have this knowledge (. . .). On the other hand, I’m able to identify with the better milieus and feel at home there too. I can go either way. I guess you could say it’s a sort of chameleon effect. (26_73–74) The term “chameleon effect” is a well-founded characterization. Still, the question remains of whether it accurately covers the described phenomenon. There is certainly something ambiguous about a professional being

212 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility benefited by qualities acquired in the old milieu, while at the same time feeling at home in the new one. If I look at these statements in light of the ones concerning the problematical communication with her parents, however, something is revealed about the nature of the synthesis she has created and in less explicit form applies to many of the others: identification with the new milieu has succeeded to such an extent that communication with the old one is strained, with ensuing self-doubt regarding authenticity. This is painful and feelings of guilt and ambiguity are experienced. This is due more to a sense of integration within the new circles than uncertainty about belonging to one milieu or the other. This is thus not identical to the chameleon effect. At a certain moment another respondent removed herself from her parental environment and suffered guilt during her studies. When I left home at eighteen, (. . .) I think I just banned them from my thoughts. I didn’t let it enter my mind that there was a family there that I should be concerned with. I hardly went back to visit; I just had no need to. (. . .) It was only much later that I realized I’d abandoned them. But I had no idea how to get along except in my present world to forget that there was another one (. . .) I was so glad to get away. (28_51–56) Strategically forgetting that another world exists in order to live in the current world is also a manner of dealing with ambiguous feelings and meanings. The consequence was learning to control the guilt associated with leaving as well as shame for the newfound privileges. Still, the primary challenge was to manage the powerlessness involved with this paradoxical connection. Leaving was not a choice but a necessity so as not to be psychologically torn. We can see that her feeling of abandoning her parents only later emerged as a form of reflection. The moment of leaving was felt to be liberating. A respondent who in the course of his career developed educational programs for underprivileged children points to his background in the context of professional drive. This was found, in the fi rst place, within the work itself; his tie to his background provided an added dimension. As a graduate he went to work for an innovational education program, where his notions about education and science were utterly challenged: We were especially focused on working-class children. And then I landed in my own history. The appeal was huge to do something for working-class children with fewer chances by creating more for them, by way of my connection to this group and education. I had been given the chances through friends and grabbed them when I left that milieu. In that period, elevating the working class was a prevalent ideal and this also had a strong influence on me, both scientifically and politically, and I moved to the political left. My sentiments already leaned to the left but I now had a concrete basis. (16_48–49)

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The motivation did not precede the work but was its consequence. It was only later that the connection to background was made. This was the start of a career centered on socially underprivileged groups and idealistic principles that were continuously given a different professional translation. I can state, in conclusion, that the meaning of the original milieu for identity construction cannot be described unequivocally and that confl icting considerations can play a part. Firstly, the meaning attached to background is not always an issue. It can also be the retrospective result of a process of reflection. Reflection can be triggered by feelings of guilt or shame or both (for instance, from what should have been done but was not, or the relief of leaving); the experience of strained communication; and the influence of specific professional or political views or both. The experience is subsequently interpreted based on the influence of—and with the knowledge of—the lower social class and the individual’s professional identity. In certain respects this facilitated superior professional action. Origin thus is given an instrumental significance of sorts. And this instrumental significance can in turn create distance and confl ict with colleagues who cannot relate to this aspect of professionalism. But there is also the option of creating a synthesis by managing multiple perspectives of reality. Staying Power and an Entrepreneurial Mind-set The central identification mechanism for presentation in the new social context is work ethic, typified by effort, competence and delivering good work—even striving for perfectionism: I spend a lot of my time working. ( . . . ) this defi nitely has to do with my background. I’m accustomed to pushing: the job needs to get done. This is also the case with my siblings. You do the job without whining. It’s really not a bad trait. (31_95) This work attitude is internalized in numerous respondents. Lack of adherence to it makes them feel as if they are not adequately fulfi lling their profession. This is, however, not necessarily a differentiating factor for every individual who delivers good work. Neither is hard work the determining condition nor automatically the key feature for reaching the achieved situation. The citation above is from an orthopedic surgeon, the daughter of poor shopkeepers. However, unlike the other respondents, she expresses the need to be the “owner” of her work. By making plans to establish a private clinic, this need was given shape at a certain moment in her career. I interviewed two university lecturers, originating from typical workingclass families, who also founded a private enterprise. For both, this was a manner in which to feel more independent from the university. One delegated the entrepreneurial aspects to his business partner. The other could

214 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility channel his professional interests better in the business, making the venture worthwhile for him. He had founded it following a temporary job: I’d been dissatisfied for a while about the fact that the university could do whatever they wanted with their lecturers. I provide education, lectures, courses and related activities through my business and this makes me more independent from the university ( . . . ). It’s not that I’m earning millions but the independence makes me happier at the university. That the way it works. I ( . . . ) know now that I’ve got something for myself. It’s made me less eager and that’s why I’m more successful at the university. I’m also more at ease at receptions. You know, it’s win-win. (6_108–114) Although he is rather modest about his business, its existence alone has an identity-reinforcing effect. He feels more independent and it liberates him from his eagerness to belong. Another respondent, the director of a music center, was endlessly struggling to obtain government funding and was constantly facing shortages and debts. He had to continue his teaching job to maintain an income. Still, independent work had its personal rewards: It was a tremendous step to organize a loan of a few million in order to remodel the performance hall and to implement the concert series without public funding—a gamble. It was only then that I let all my old inhibitions go and underwent what a small businessperson undergoes when he takes this kind of action. I’ve learned everything there is to know now but financially it didn’t work out. It’s impossible to make money with classical music. (25_81–82) With “old inhibitions,” he refers to “playing it safe,” which in his former milieu was the absolute criterion for a study and later for a job. An art study was out of the question as was a university study without future prospects. Nonetheless, he had internalized the message conveyed in his youth: My best friend (. . .) started a film theater during my study (. . .) I even gave him his first capital for the project. In the meanwhile this (theater) has become a film complex for art-house films. I really should’ve become his partner; I would’ve been my own boss. It would’ve been possible. Q: Why didn’t you? A: ( . . . ) Because of where I was from! That was a golden rule: if you had a steady income you had to keep your job till the bitter end. (25_76–78) Participants from families where income certainty overshadows independent initiative and who still took some sort of entrepreneurial risk at a certain

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point, characterize this as a boost for strengthening identity: there was a sense of having become a better person as a result; money was secondary. In all cases, respondents had to traverse a lengthy course, but it is striking that even children with a father dependent on a steady salary could develop a desire for a more autonomous professional situation along the way. They had begun with nothing and consequently had to build everything from the bottom up. Moreover, it often meant rowing against the tide. But when things went too easily, they took risks. In fact, from a certain moment on, there was nothing self-evident anymore. The pharmacologist, a university lecturer, explains it is as follows and adds a personal comment: It had to do with the things in life that don’t just come automatically. Nothing was automatic—absolutely nothing ( . . . ) and because nothing is automatic, I want to know how it works. (2_134) The way in which his life has taken shape is both a philosophy and a social responsibility of sorts. He has never gotten anything for free and that creates obligations. This sense of social responsibility is part of his identity. In addition to the issue of autonomy is a more individualized responsibility for society. Such facets of responsibility and service appear in manifold forms. Authority and Respect Ambivalence towards figures of authority is a real dilemma for identity construction. Comments regarding superiors and others who have had an interfering role have been, at times, sharp and angry. A respondent looking at what lies behind this aversion mentions a lack of assertiveness. He had been in a far-too-low salary scale in education for years and was unable to rectify the situation. The message he heard from the director was as follows: They told me I was right but there was another layer above the director ( . . . ) blocking a raise. My father was a fatalistic man ( . . . ) it’s not easy for me to fend for myself. If I see how others do it, like my wife—she treats certain matters as if they’re the most natural thing in the world. It’s just not in me. (3_137–143) Fending for themselves is difficult for many respondents, and this one relates his inability to his father’s fatalistic laborer’s attitude. In addition, he suggests that he has more aptitude for criticism than risk-taking. Furthermore, it is notable that he uses the argument of the “layer above” that had frustrated his efforts. In other words, there is a need of sorts for subjugation to “factuality,” which is residual from his identification with his father. This identification can also be translated into an aversion for authority. Another respondent speaks of her allergy for people who think that their opinions carry more weight than another’s:

216 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility There are always those who think that just because they’ve got more money than you, are the boss of a company or know more than you, they have more to say than others and can decide what you are and aren’t allowed to do. This still goes on but in a different way. I’ve probably learned to think like this at home. (5_63) She does not simply relate her aversion for people with authority but generally questions the legitimacy of authority. She has a degree in pedagogical studies and is office manager in an organization for foster care. Based on her educational qualifications, her attitude is contradictory; namely, she is unable to refrain from commenting on the content of the organization but when asked why she does not apply for a professional or managerial function, she answers that she wants to remain in a background function: In the background, always in the background—and still I think I can make a small difference now and then ( . . . ) that’s one of my theories. You have to do it together. We’re all just gears in the machine. One gear has more power than another. But just like a clock, if a tiny gear in the center stops working, nothing works. (5_135) The result is a kind of professionalism “from the sidelines,” which she substantiates with a vague holistic notion. Other respondents who speak of an aversion for authority figures look for the source of their attitudes within themselves. Even the reference to the self-inflation of managers has to do with the fear of responsibility or the risks that go with it. This is an example of negative identification, learned at home, that continues to be a hindrance in the relationship with authority figures, especially those with a patronizing bearing. One can learn to deal with it as a phenomenon and even develop strategies to stand above it but one can never entirely come to terms with it: I clam up at times. You have to be especially alert that you respond— but respond adequately. I believe these skills are spoon-fed to others as a matter of course—to guard their own positions. I never learned this at home. (16_107) His reaction—no matter how much awareness there is—can be a clarification for a lack of ambition for supervisory functions and an attitude to strive for distinction by way of professional regard. There are those who claim this is impossible, have no such goals and work best under their present circumstances: I missed the necessary traits, such as leadership, developing long-term vision and following though, and keeping the wheels turning. I had strategic insight but don’t have the personality to push my opinion

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through in deliberations. I also missed the drive, in part, as well as the personal qualities. ( . . . ) My parents weren’t unrelenting either. It just wasn’t in my character, and that was formed in my childhood family. (11_48–50) This engineer’s message is that he merely wants to be allowed to do his job. If he is asked to supervise aspects of content, then this is acceptable, but discussion about strategies lies outside his realm of interest. He points to his childhood home. Neither of his parents was pushy or adept at verbal communication. It was a culture where a practical and concrete manner of thinking was stimulated—not planning and long-term thinking processes. Practice and Theory That which is practical and concrete is a clear standard for identity construction. The cardiologist’s search to give shape to his own manner of helping people thus motivated him to switch to family medicine: I always wanted to help people, but not only with babble: acting to really make them better. Dealing with couples in a bad marriage or convincing fat people to lose weight was frustrating. ( . . . ) That’s why I didn’t want to be a GP when I’d fi nished med school; I thought cardiology would be a good mix. People who have had a heart attack and have been forced out of their daily lives are terrified. This is an understandable fear and it’s gratifying if you’re able to reassure them and explain that they’ll be able to do everything as before. These are clear-cut phenomena and that’s what I felt I had to do. (4_112–114) The need for unambiguous phenomena and clear-cut problems fit his practical intelligence, an aspect I have treated earlier. But the surgeon’s passion for his patients was a combination of concrete scientific knowledge of physics and care as well: A sympathetic attitude for patients and having a talent for guiding them is good and well but that’s if that’s all you’ve got, you’re pretty helpless if the real problem is gallstones. And someone with only exact scientific knowledge forgets that it’s people he’s dealing with. (17_109) I do not encounter this practical attitude in all participants—at least not immediately. Literature or theoretical and philosophical themes had an appeal to those who had chosen a field in the humanities and social sciences. Both sociologists interviewed thought their studies had lacked sufficient challenge. One dissatisfied with both teachers and co-students delved into the work of Hannah Arendt; the other had developed such distaste for the laborer’s rhetoric of some teachers in sociology that he enrolled in

218 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility a number of courses at the philosophy depaertment and later considered a dissertation in the field. Financial problems and the prospect of fi nancial security were the rationale behind his “practical decision” to go into translation and later the teaching profession. His interest slowly disappeared as a result, but it was difficult to leave behind: It was really hard to take leave of the theoretical subjects. I would meet people who I knew from work groups who by then were working on their PhDs. And I remember thinking, “What you can do, I can do for sure.” It took me ten years to come to terms with the fact. ( . . . ) I tried to read philosophy but if you have a practical job and you have to raise children, you—at least I—didn’t have the energy. (3_135) Despite his penchant for philosophy, the practical attitude triumphed in the end. Decisive moments were always dominated by the practical option. An identity crisis may have brought him to the right path, but at the crossroads he chose the expedient direction. The Game and Communication I elaborated earlier on the various facets and layers of communication. What we see is the communication gap between parents and children, on the one hand, and the mixed messages from those economically better off, on the other. What both communication forms have in common is their closed character, and that which is not explicated or specifically at issue determines the response. The break with parents—and other family—demonstrates that their closed and positional communication pattern is no longer identified with. The refusal to engage in the communication games of the higher classes signifies that their underlying meanings were experienced as means of exclusion. In line with this, and in regard to identity construction, there are two essential tracks to the research material. Firstly, the open and personally directed communication experienced in other milieus is experienced as liberating. Secondly, complexity of communication is felt when work policy and relationships are agreed on and established. This was related to uneasiness during receptions and informal get-togethers as well as to the mixed messages from colleagues. Especially obvious is that in a work situation in the exact sciences the discomfort with the complex communication was less than in other work circumstances. Informal confrontations with colleagues or superiors are simply avoided, and this is seen as manifest: You see a clear difference between people from other social backgrounds. It doesn’t bother me as a rule. I wasn’t very demanding and just avoid them and any confrontation. ( . . . ) I don’t make a habit of going to social gatherings, unless there’s no way out. But the picture is

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familiar: people go just to be the center of attention. It’s not my thing. (11_53–54) If ambitions are limited to excelling at the job, such as this for respondent, there is no need for the others. That this can be an obstacle in other work situations has been described earlier. Namely, in the area of managerial and other conference moments, for those in the field of exact sciences, the aversion for debates about language usage and nitpicking is particularly pointed. One respondent was faculty dean for four years and, though he recalled a pleasant and open atmosphere of communication with the rector and colleague deans, this was anything but the case regarding discussion methods and language usage of a number of members of the faculty council (see Chapter 6). But even those in the arts and social sciences were put off by this type of communication and called it “bullshit” and blather. Another respondent struggles with meaningless rules and speaks of “managerial machinations.” All are offended by this management style but he especially relates his aversion to his attitude that essences of the matter and quality are crucial but that these aspects are always dominated by planning. And he has not the slightest interest in planning: The minimum standard is a job well done, as I see it. And if things don’t go according to the planning they start to whine. They have a point but I just don’t have the disposition to handle it. That’s my lack of structure ( . . . ). I never learned that you can also get an assignment done in three weeks. And if the quality is reflected in the assignment, that’s OK as long as your goals stay within limits. The problem is that this is constantly happening. (18_90) Quality and essence is relative but planning is absolute. And if you get three weeks for an assignment the quality is reflected by the time allowed. If communication at work is to be meaningful, then the focus has to be on the essence and professional quality, not form and planning. Managerial communication as he perceives as ambiguous should be secondary. This theme is frequently addressed by interviewees, among these by the law graduate who worked consecutively in different jurisdictions as manager of child protection services. His success was due to an approach of direct communication devoid of pretense: “that’s why you got the job.” This matter-of-fact attitude was learned at home: One thing I can tell you for sure, no one beat around the bush in our house. If you didn’t do what you were supposed to, you were told, although in a decent way, and you knew exactly what was expected. (23_46)

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The tendency shown by the data is that the more businesslike and straightforward the atmosphere at work is perceived, the better equipped our participants are to utilize the more direct forms of communication, learned at home. There is less willingness to take part in communication in a work setting with hidden agendas. The game has never been mastered, and whenever possible our respondents opt for clear language and transparent rules. Professional communication is considered more valuable than politically colored management communication; precisely where professional communication dominates—in exact sciences work settings—direct communication is the most effective communication for its users. The second track concerns open communication in private life. Based on interview data, the impression is conveyed that this involves a process of catching up. The best education in this regard was the introduction to other lifestyle cultures through friends or a romantic interest. Meeting a more open communication system could complicate communication with parents but in most cases integration with open communication in identity construction was a relative success. However, a respondent who attributes his intellectual and cultural development in great part to his seminary period has to grant that his emotional development consequently suffered: I always say I was turned inside out intellectually there, but at the expense of something else. My emotional skills are underdeveloped. I naturally can’t tell you how it could’ve been different but there was no time or space for it. (18_83) In contrast to most of my participants, one respondent spoke of the open communication in her childhood home: anything could be discussed. I have postulated earlier that this was residual from her grandmother, a noblewoman who had plunged socially when she married a man below her station. Based on this communication style, she developed an identification profi le that made it possible to present herself as an independent entity; among other things, she was not prepared to adapt her outward presentation in order to belong: I’ve always dressed the way I chose and if people don’t like it that’s their problem, also at college. That’s why I was always an odd one. (5_97) To live as the “odd one,” presentation and communication about your choice is inadequate for the role. The difficulty is that both social as well as a material bases provide the conditions for this position, but it is impossible to determine this autonomously. Even more so, if the conditions are absent because you are from the working class—as most respondents demonstrate—just keeping pace is a complex feat, and the majority of interviewees would hardly have been in the position to make a radical statement such as hers:

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You have to stay in contact with your family. ( . . . ) I’ve known people that had completely broken with home and only went back at Christmas. They had moved on to the other world and cut ties with home and I knew that wouldn’t happen to me. Never! (5_101) The axis of the struggle is in the area of communication. This is a consequence of simultaneously wanting to maintain ties with home and the need to develop in another direction to reach the goal of study. For numerous respondents, identity construction means maneuvering between two social poles. And especially the area of communication exemplifies the complexity of fi nding a balance between these sides. Communication, if it comes too easily, can be counterproductive and an obstacle, particularly when an adequate professional terrain is lacking. Taking the Long Cut Without ever having heard of van Huyse and Vandekerckhove (1976), a participating pediatrician used the term “taking the long cut.” This was in response to my question of whether he felt that he now belonged to the circles he had entered: One way or another, I’ve found my own niche. ( . . . ) Basically, I don’t really belong; it is, in fact, a different kind, of course. But that is not exactly true either; there are others like me. But in a certain sense, I’m exceptional due to my homosexuality and coming from a workingclass background. Still, no matter what, I’ve slowly but surely found my place and feel at ease. But in a certain sense, I’ve always felt that I’ve taken the long cut, and that feeling remains even though I’ve been able to live up to their standards and beyond. When I was in medical school, I saw that others could get things done via their parents. I didn’t have any of that. I had to work harder to get the same thing ( . . . ). It’s similar to what women have to go through: you can do it, you can break through, but it stays hard for a long time. And it can break you. (22_74–77) His remarks require no further comment. They provide an ideal metaphor for the nature of the life course lying ahead, and tasks to be undertaken that are essential to identity construction.

8.5

CONCLUSION: IDENTITY CAPITAL?

In this chapter I have explored the acting individual and the process of social transition. I translated this theme in the introduction with the following query: To what extent have my respondents been able to present themselves

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as subjects, which competencies have they been able to offer for this purpose, which personal traits have impeded them on their way and which dilemmas they have encountered? The material reveals a continuous process of negotiation for positioning in the context. Both the primary socialized competencies taken from the former milieu and the secondary ones, acquired in the new, are utilized to this end. Even though the latter are the consequence of a secondary learning process and cannot be applied naturally, they are nevertheless experienced as essential for maintenance and feeling comfortable in the new environment. It is of particular significance that professional competencies, in particular, facilitate integration. In addition, the communicative competencies can play an important and, at the same time, distinguishing role. Furthermore, these individuals have experienced having had to work harder than the others—those whose place was self-evident. But above all they felt that the obstacles had been inevitable. Social transition is not achieved as a matter of course: it is only perceived as an accomplishment if achieved independently and involving an uphill climb or, as expressed by one respondent, “pushing to the limit.” There was no other option than to do it alone, and it could not be too painless. It is essential that natural intelligence was joined with effort and determination—attributed to the culture at home. But also learned at home were fear, reluctance, and aversion, and these were emotions to be overcome. This process was a long-term dynamic one, resultant in a sustainable blend of qualities, making it possible to maneuver in the new circles by way of profession, family and culture. As shown from my data, for identity construction, the following are significant competencies for my research group: moral fiber and perseverance; a capacity for hard work; attaching key value to work ethic and professional presentation; acknowledgment of the meaning of guilt and shame in relation to the past; coming to terms with feelings of estrangement and bringing crises to an adequate end; getting control of social angst; reflexive treatment of feelings of subordination learned at home; and, especially, transcendence of over-eagerness and the acquisition of the capacity to recognize and take advantage of opportunities to effect independence and liberation from the need for approval of others. These achievements can certainly be typified as identity capital and thus the product of personal investment and input.

9

Abstract and Conclusions

The central question of my research project revolves around the question of what social class means to the actual experience of career building and the course of the lives of academically educated men and women from a working-class origin. This fundamental question leads to the deduction of three sub-questions. I fi rst questioned the typical experiences of these individuals, especially focusing on their handling of the diversity of social contexts and their implications encountered in the course of their lives. The answers are given in section one of this chapter. Secondly, I considered the significance of this diversity of contexts and implications for the construction of professional and personal identity. This will be handled in section two. Finally, I wanted to know how these men and women experienced themselves as agents of their own life course, in relation to the influence of social and cultural antecedents. This is the object of section three.

9.1

A SENSE OF BEING DIFFERENT

Parents and Class Community Attitudes Data show that despite the fact that my respondents were stimulated by their parents to pursue higher education, this stimulus was nonetheless limited by commonplace class expectations for the future. A key stimulus stems from the handling of social decline. In some cases grandparents were small entrepreneurs or the mother was of middle-class origin, with brothers who were raised with a certain level of social status. Often parents or grandparents started an education but did not complete it due to economic crises or material obstacles. Recollections regarding prematurely ended educations or those never begun have been articulated in the following commonplace expression: “Even though we were intelligent enough for further study, we never had the chance.” At the same time, a shared outspoken positive sentiment towards further education was a reason for parents to raise themselves socially within the working class. Especially mothers—as status-regulators—were sources of this message. This was

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clearly a dominant message in childrearing, particularly because it was the mothers who exercised authority in my respondents’ families. This inclination for further education and the notion of having a higher social status didn’t alter the fact that the parents were well integrated in the local working-class community regarding lifestyle, speech, communication patterns, attitudes and habits. In contrast, the moment that my respondents attained higher positions, parents warned them to temper their pride, due to the mind-set “once poor, always poor.” In addition, despite prospects of future professional advancement, parents imagined their children’s lifestyles would remain similar to their own. These notions of the future are primarily based on visible status and outward appearances—for example, the white coat of a doctor or a daughter driving an expensive car. In reality these images are reflections of a lack of information about higher education routes as well as concern about their children’s job security and even anxiety of becoming alienated from them. In order to compensate for this missing information and the generation gap, parents frequently make use of their authoritarian positions to argue these issues. There are also testimonies about the negligible importance of higher education for girls. Parents expressed vague and stereotyped images regarding possible futures for daughters outside their class. For both boys and girls, an intellectual job is desirable, because the work is clean, but only advisable if it is in the vicinity of home. Moreover, community members must appreciate and recognizes its status. The local community plays a double role: it is encouraging on the one hand and at the same time limiting. Acceptance, appreciation and pride can turn into disapproval the moment the student is successful. When this happens, unpleasant associations and exclusion mechanisms take effect. I conclude that because of the characteristic combination of stimulation and discouragement my respondents experienced only formal encouragement to pursue higher education, while lacking support with content and direction. They were left to their own devices, which often resulted in a delayed start of the study or discovering the appropriate subject. This doesn’t alter the fact that parents’ individual ways of stimulating their sons and daughters were nonetheless crucial, especially in moments of crisis and difficult decision-making. Neither can instilled attitudes about work be overlooked in this regard. These attitudes, learned at home, are based on a deep-seated professional ethos, where hard and secure work, unfailing collegial solidarity and at times a difficult relationship with authority play a part.

Desirability of Higher Culture Following my study of American biographical essays, my impression is that an interest in and opportunity for reading (literature) appear to be a reliable

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indication for the eventual choice of higher education. Reading provides a means to escape in fantasies about a different life and an acquaintance with positive identification models. Furthermore, reading offers young people a way to distinguish themselves within their own community and provides tools to compete with peers belonging to a higher class. This impression has not been unquestionably confi rmed in my research; literature and reading appear to be a less significant factor than I had anticipated. There are indications of the essential role reading and books play. However, my respondents were not generally inclined to make a meaningful connection between a special interest in literature and their chosen path of higher education. If such an interest had existed, the inspiring role of teachers was seen to have had a greater influence on their academic careers. Reading is not the only form of high culture. In more than one respondent’s home, culture (for example, literature and music) was part of family traditions, but in most cases it was rare and incidental. It seems more evident that sophisticated cultural taste is the result of a process of attempting to make up for lost time. Still, there is an acceptance of never truly catching up to those brought up in an environment of high culture. Maintaining the appearance of scholarship and supposed inner refi nement are key incentives, along with elegance, confidence and outward show. A respondent illustrated this with the metaphor of a skater. He described his manner of functioning and presentation as awkwardly moving over the ice, while others brought up in a better social milieu gracefully glided along. However, the practical value of an education is thought to have been more stimulating than any customs associated with high culture. Education, after all, opens doors to a good job or career promotion. It holds a promise of security, status and income. In the course of the educational career, other more idealistic motives surface. Still, in most cases, an awareness of the significance of practical aspects remains. My respondents showed a preference for math and science programs in secondary school, above language, humanities and arts, seemingly because the former was considered to be the best education. Even more likely is that these subjects were better suited to respondents’ affi nity with practical aspects of life. Besides extensive knowledge, a surgeon needs manual skills. Identification with popular music genres offered a means to integrate into a more intellectual cultural setting. This, however, had less to do with the music than a lifestyle shared with peers from better milieus and expressed through clothing style, places to go out, and political and ideological discussions—all a manner of distinguishing themselves and breaking from the working-class youth subculture. This was simultaneously a way to connect with fellow students, who, regarding interests and material and social conditions, were at the same social and intellectual level. I conclude that the feeling of deprivation, due to being born in a family lacking culture, is pivotal in the working-class experience of my

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respondents. This is intensified by an inner longing to make up for the missing culture—in the knowledge that the gap is irreparable. At the same time, these families have a rich tradition of practical creativity, technical ability and a deep interest in math and science disciplines. This interest has a profound influence on choices for further education and career. Moreover, this choice works to avoid a cultural split with family and past. It is evident that the choice for the humanities or social sciences has been preceded by explicit acquaintance with alternative or high culture, a religious seminary, the pop scene, or through exposure to another more culturally oriented family.

Class Confrontations Respondents’ perception of those who belong to the new social class is, above all, nuanced and open, though loss of intimate contact with their own social group is difficult. The lifestyle of the higher class is seen as desirable due to new identification with teachers, professors or the intellectual parents of friends. Intellectual capacities—as opposed to the situation at home—are recognized and respected. Especially novel is the experience that the intellectual world can exist in the living room and go hand in hand with open communication. Still, after the novelty has worn off, the dayto-day experience of actually living in the new class context, silent rejection of otherness evolves into a continuous sense of not belonging. These feelings, strongly experienced at receptions and informal meetings, are not necessarily negative; they provide the opportunity to develop social intelligence. Social intelligence is a competence working-class academics tend to attribute to their social origins, which allows them to show off material achievement and verbally express self-importance (Brands, 1992). Secondly, rejection by one’s own class triggers awareness that transcending social origins is embarking on a path of no return. The parental world seems more and more inflexible and restricted. The former network posits a crucial dilemma: Do you belong or not? Though my respondents wanted to stay a part of the inner circle of family and friends, the latter tended to treat them as deserters by stigmatizing them as lazy students and penpushers. Therefore—in their perception—instead of individuals they are approached as holders of certain positions. On the topic of the positional approach from the original social group, female respondents relay the most negative experiences. For example, mothers seem unable to integrate a personal relationship with their daughters and their perception of these women as medical professionals. Mothers of medical practitioners are cited in some cases, where medical advice is rejected from the daughter; in others advice is structurally sought with apparently little sensitivity to daughters’ feelings about their own lives and careers. My conclusion is that integration in the new social class is complex and layered due to the difficult departure from the former class and the

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half-hearted acceptance to the new class. Identification with the values of the new class is thus accompanied by exclusion. Vital integration is realized by developing social intelligence and by participating in certain groups that transcend subcultures (for example, contemporary cultures, including pop culture).

Identification and Significance of Class Origin Another meaningful aspect is identification with role models who present the world of the higher class as desirable, where concrete models are available for intellectual interests and competencies. Teachers and others who had detected students’ intellectual qualities and thus encouraged parents to send their children to more challenging schools were discussed. These figures often took on the task of organizing extra language education, informing parents about fi nancial options and giving other practical support. They are spoken of with the deepest appreciation by all, including the most educated respondents (PhDs). They are seen as the source of expectations to be lived up to, and the ones who validated that a life in the higher class could be attained. But identification is also founded in working-class values, such as a capacity for work, solidarity and professional drive. These values are also connected with respect for the qualities associated with labor and ethics of the father. These are mixed with esteem for parents’ capacity to manage a life with limited means and gratitude for the opportunities they have provided so that children could pursue an academic study. But this doesn’t mean that a working-class existence is seen as quintessentially virtuous. On the contrary, recollections of parents’ sacrifices can be quite emotional, and many respondents have had to cope with the consequences of authoritarian and sometimes ambiguous messages and practices in their upbringing, as well as a lack of communication. A number of respondents told humorous anecdotes about a father’s underdog position or the weak intellectual capacities of uncles and aunts. Nevertheless, they recognized the implicit influence of parents’ stereotypical preferences in their choice to study medicine law, or another field of study with the promise of similar social status and quick fi nancial returns. In the end, my respondents were able to transcend the aspirations of their fathers, even though the symbolic remnants were sometimes apparent. For example, the white coat of the chemical analyst, which a father had dreamed of wearing, was upgraded by a son to the white coat of a medical specialist. Most typical was the choice for the field of science, in which the no-nonsense and practical attitudes of home are reflected. But even those who had made this choice did not escape untouched from parents’ ideals. My conclusion is that the recognition of being essentially influenced by the values of parents and, at the same time, cutting loose from this influence is a complex and difficult task. It is important to note that the majority

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of respondents are aware of the power of identification with the parents, from which they never totally escape, in spite of identification with the new class in later life. Feelings of loyalty and gratitude are mixed with feelings of alienation and wanting to leave the past behind; learning to put stereotypical class images in perspective is a lifelong challenge.

Paradoxical Loyalty Contact with parents and family can be difficult and discordant, though respondents never severed relations. Loyalty to parents is strong, though the manner in which it is expressed is somewhat patronizing and reveals a mechanism of justification. Childhood restrictions, incompetence of childrearing, and consequential frustrations have not been forgotten, but a dialogue on the subject has never taken place. On the one hand, this is due to a general lack of common topics of conversation, and on the other, a mutual inability to construct a shared understanding about subjects of the past. Although the children have since developed the communication skills to take part in such a dialogue, the parents lack adequate language to be equal participants. Grown children of working-class parents are, thus, caught in the dilemma between a need for parental attention and parents’ positional thinking patterns. What is particularly striking is that numerous respondents genuinely feel that parents and family lack interest in their current personal situations. At the same time, I was struck by the persistent desire a number of female respondents expressed to be respected for “who they are” and not for “what they have become.” In my view, this lies in a stalemate in communication and is not due to a lack of respect or interest on the part of parents and family. In their own way, and within their own communication context, parents demonstrate that they are seriously interested and care. My conclusion is that social transition from a working-class background to a middle-class milieu results in loyalty confl icts but not quarrels or hostility. Therefore, it seems more accurate to emphasize communication problems due to living in different worlds and dissimilar interpretation frameworks. Wanting recognition from parents and family, in fact, demonstrates the instinctive loyalty of every respondent to his and her social background. At the same time, alienation and miscommunication are the context of this loyalty, making it a loyalty full of paradoxes.

Lost in Communication Patterns The discovery of dialogue—as a method for exchanging ideas and thoughts, questioning, decision-making, listening, and responding to implicit or explicit messages—is an overriding theme regarding integration in an intellectual milieu. Still, for the majority of respondents, there is not an obvious pattern of open and in-depth communication. Even though the richness

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of the aforementioned communication pattern is experienced as an eyeopener, certain aspects remain awkward and threatening. One key issue is the experienced game character of certain communication patterns on the work floor. This is a contradiction to the parental message that life is serious and a battle for survival. Therefore, the obvious validity of the message and having succeeded in transcending mere survival game playing, in the framework of professional achievement and values, is a source of aversion and frustration. Managing alien communication codes and rituals is particularly difficult to cope with. These are not always understood and—when they are—not automatically accepted. This particularly applies when these codes and rituals deny the significance of material wealth (or the lack thereof) and the meaning of professional values as a result of hard work. The discomfort of casual conversation with colleagues and superiors obviously belonging to the higher class is experienced as a nuisance. Nevertheless, there is awareness that small talk is an essential part of the job and serves to create and strengthen social networks. In addition, informal meetings are the context in which personal positions are explored, coalitions made, schemes planned, conflicts ironed out, and perspectives exchanged. A spontaneous response from a number of respondents was, “I only want to do my job; does this have to be part of it?” It appears that they are more comfortable with formal social rituals and professional communication. I have observed that numerous respondents mentioned “a forced and unconvincing authoritarian performance” when discussing organizational management by those not up to the job—a category in which they claimed they themselves fit. The account about the behavior referred to above is in sharp contrast to what they attribute as specific and representative communicative characteristics to colleagues of higher classes. This is a distinction between families of different classes, respondents observed. In a higher social milieu, thus, authority is learned naturally and conveyed as much through body language and outward appearance as verbal communication. A typical anecdote was told about one mother, with airs of grandeur, who with a single glance could shrink the confidence of the intelligent girlfriend of her not-too-bright son while making her feel like nothing more than “the girl with the stained dress.” Another exemplary metaphor is the one portraying the two skaters, one clumsy and the other elegant. Professionals from working-class backgrounds are more likely to perform better in the business world and within the context of scientific fields. Here more straightforward communication is the norm and indirectness and ambiguous communication are considered inappropriate. A number of respondents relayed stories of situations where their directness had been used by colleagues in the inner circle to solve problems, the moment the colleagues felt these were too risky to tackle themselves. The feeling of being an outsider is connected with and reinforced by subjection to testing by the elite (especially in the medical profession). It is here that strict social and cultural codes are used to regulate the entrance to

230 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility their crown domain. It has been shown, especially in surgery, that particular aesthetic taste and specific communication codes are required. My conclusion is that my respondents experience the oppressive along with the liberating aspects of dialogical communication, in the adopted milieu. It is in this environment where an appropriate form for their intellectual needs is met; still, they have to contend with strange rituals, codes and ambiguities. And these in turn create anxiety and hurdles to overcome. Professional communication appears to be the most fitting method of acquiring a social position in the workplace. But here too experience shows that the allocation of positions in certain (key) sectors is not necessarily a matter of professional capacity but of obscure social connections, regulated by cultural codes and tests. However, in those contexts where communication in the technical and practical realm dominates, more openness and accessibility to higher-level functions exists.

Professional Field Choice, Study and Preparation for a Career The process of deciding to pursue a university study was for respondents more a question of trial and error and learning by experience than a matter of choice. In any case, it was not a step in a concrete plan for the future. In some cases an explicit interest in a particular discipline was only one part of a complex of influences in which parents’ lack of information, prejudices and stereotypical views about status played a critical role. Therefore, several respondents were of the opinion that they’d had to take a detour in order to reach their fi nal destination. In most cases university life was, at best, challenging. Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, experiencing aversion and detachment and even psychological crises are reported. The prevailing perception of university life was described as “not meant for us.” Finishing studies was a matter of adaptation skills, hard work and acceptance of disappointment, but also of ambition and strategy. Those who had started to study on the side, after already having jobs, reported being totally uninvolved in student life. Studying was then just a phase in career growth and had no meaningful impact on lifestyle. Notable is the absence of systematic reflection on a professional future. Most respondents had a better idea of what they did not want than what they wanted. With the exception of graduates in exact sciences and medicine, most respondents entered careers without outspoken professional expectations. A number of these, confronted with unemployment in the 1980s, could only enter the workforce after participating in government employment programs. After completion, some decided to accept jobs they were overqualified for, all the while realizing that an academic education continued to play a role in choices alongside salaried employment. For example, some took voluntary advisory positions as experts in cultural or community activities. In the same period, others started a new study or persevered searching for work consistent with their education.

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Finally, the majority of respondents remembered the initial stages of their careers as chaotic and fragmented. Contracts were temporary and short but ambition increased due to facing challenges as well as opportunities presenting them in the professional context. It is relevant to note that most respondents characterize their ambition as “emerging” out of encountered professional challenges and not as an inherent drive for planning life and career. Earlier research (Vandekerckhove & Huyse, 1976) has mentioned the following phenomenon regarding graduates’ attitudes: the moment that a secure job has been obtained, an academic degree is the only attribute with meaningful use. Based on observations of the majority of my respondents, this is only a partial and temporary attitude and present at the start of the career. To clarify, some respondents viewed a university career as the highest attainable goal and key to job security and prestige. There were respondents who expressed the tendency to seek an inconspicuous position in their own field, which afforded room for their own vision of education and research. However, the drawbacks associated with this attitude are not so much related to the work itself but rather the self-exclusion and isolation that can accompany it. Sufficient ambition to move up the academic ladder only developed after it was apparent that opportunities had since passed. And by that time it was too late to pursue a professorship; ambitious colleagues who had timely planned for obtaining professorships had already fi lled desired positions. A linear career to a professorship is most likely in the faculties of exact sciences. In the humanities, medical and social science faculties, my respondents were confronted with considerable obstacles due to lack of social competencies and supportive networks to aid in attaining jobs that suited discovered ambition. In addition, the influence of class loyalty on career choice, as concluded by Vandekerckhove and Huyse (1976), is only partially recognized. A number of respondents are professionally involved in unions or the Labor Party, but these choices are said to be based on factors of coincidence, or specific personal motives (for example, a drive rooted in religion, now secularized). I conclude that there is only an indirect relationship between job preference and class origin. There were no respondents who had decided on a study or to accept a job out of loyalty to class origins. To sum up, most of my respondents ended up with the job which is seen as the one best suited to their intellectual and professional ambitions.

Ambition, Managing and Professionalism Many respondents spontaneously reported that they were, in fact, not ambitious. At the same time, this insight was put into perspective and continuously emerging circumstantial ambition was acknowledged. In other words, instead of goals being deliberate, these surfaced through chance

232 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility and circumstance. The option of exercising careful planning in order to realize ambition was an unexpected discovery but most respondents experienced ambition as dependent on networks and specific competencies that are normally learned at home. And, as shown earlier, once the essential importance of ambition is grasped, it is often too late to obtain the best functions in the workplace. A typical aspect of my respondents’ ambition is how it is concentrated on professionalism and the work process itself, which is composed of professional excellence, job perfection and social involvement in the workplace. The best chances for moving up in the organization hierarchy occur in work environments where professional competencies are more important than diplomacy and manipulation ability. Advancement is preferably achieved on a professional instead of a managerial level; there is an outspoken preference for important functions on the second level (the person behind the scenes). A number of respondents told me about a profound instinctive aversion to authority and therefore feeling more at ease in a position of subordination than having to openly present themselves as authoritarians exercising power. Even after attaining responsible positions and developing communicative qualities, a stubborn sense of subordination remains an emotional obstacle. In my view, the obvious emphasis on perfectionism, hard work, and professional ambition, in combination with self-representation struggles and an aversion to demonstrating authority, is connected to the strength and constraints of the father’s work ethic. A fundamental approach for fathers to distinguish themselves was to demonstrate an ability to work hard and to do their job well. These qualities are reflected in the professional identity of my respondents: it’s all about the work content, conscientiousness and professionalism. Professionalism is the true expression of authority.

Men and Women In the fi fties and sixties, parents saw little need to educate their daughters. Numerous female respondents had to contend with parents’ classic gender prejudices, common to those times. Accordingly, it happened that university studies were only completed though devious means. I also recorded stories from female respondents who as girls declined pre-academic secondary education just to avoid “being stuck in a group of pretentious rich kids.” Others relayed narratives about missing chances of higher education because, due to circumstances, they were needed at home to replace a mother. Besides these emblematic stories, there are examples of daughters receiving just the support they needed from parents. Furthermore, these women told me detailed stories about genuine ambitions, but also about structural restraints. Still, not all disrupted ambitions were caused by prejudice and contextual obstacles. Noteworthy is the story about the relationship between

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ambition and motherhood. One respondent related only having allowed her maternal desires to reach a conscious level the moment she had secured a steady job.1 I was also made aware of the phenomenon of mother-daughter relationships between respondents and their own daughters. Mention was made of pressure put on these relationships when a mother failed to realize that her daughter did not necessarily relate to existential meanings for the mother. A mother’s perception of the significance of higher education and what she had gone through to pursue educational goals were not always grasped by daughters. Thus, a daughter’s inability to empathize with what lay behind a mother’s interpretation became a source of confl ict. In fact, working-class families’ expectations about girls’ futures do not considerably differ from those of other social groups. Typical, though, for working-class families, is that university education is not part of classic expectation patterns, for either girls or boys. Thus, the starting position for both genders is identical. Consequently, both sexes were confronted with the same types of obstacles and prejudices at defi ning moments in their lives. This common experience seems to prevail, instead of issues related to gender. Moreover, responses show that adherence or aversion to feminism is influenced by social references. Both men and women reject the student movement’s ideological theories regarding the working class in the sixties and seventies. This is based on the dismissal of what is experienced as well as the student movements’ patronizing and stigmatizing views. Besides, there is a sense that the feminist movement has neglected to address shared commonalities when it comes to repression of working-class females and males. Also evident is the crucial role mothers played in their children’s education path. Working-class mothers traditionally have a stronger position than fathers regarding family matters. In addition, the mother is the one who usually articulates typical working-class attitudes in the process of stimulating children to pursue further education, both in the positive sense and otherwise. Nevertheless, decisive choices are left to the father. The attitude illustrated above also applies to mothers originally from middle-class families. The outlook is, however, formed in the former milieu. By marrying into the working class, these women have taken a downward route of social mobility. But by introducing middle-class educational ambitions to her working-class family, upward mobility is again realized. Respondents experienced mothers’ roles in educational choices as paramount. This solid indication of the special meaning of a university education for working-class mothers is in marked contrast to the attitude of mothers originating from higher classes who are against the marriage of sons to working-class girls. This was commonly experienced by numerous female respondents. In my view, this apparent paradox is related to the role of mothers in childrearing. The social status of their adult children is seen by mothers as evidence of the effectiveness of their childrearing methods. Therefore, in the case of middle-class families, a young woman from lower-class

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origins is viewed by the mother as a threat to a son’s social position. Then again, in the lower classes upward mobility realized by education is proof of the effectiveness of childrearing practices. As a result, mothers’ efforts can be interpreted as regulators of social status. I conclude that it is generally a mother’s task rather than a father’s to stimulate children’s educational development. This is apparently the norm in working-class families, despite the seeming reversal in gender relationships. Still, prejudices about education for daughters that dominate childrearing practices transcend milieu. Finally, and even more influential, is that due to a total absence of university education tradition, educational opportunities for boys and girls are comparable—in other words, very limited.

9.2 THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOCIAL AND CULTURAL CONTEXT

The Making of Social Distinction One of the most striking effects of the experience of upward social transition is the emergence of an individualized life trajectory. The mechanism in place is the experience of difference, constituted along three lines: a.) the line of identification with the lifestyles and values of the higher class; b.) the line of exclusion by the class the individual belongs to; and c.) the line of integration in the lifestyle of the higher class. Due to a certain strength of character, learning and studying appeal to the individuals in question. Consequently, education becomes a crucial identification mechanism. Therefore, content of learning is not the only criterion for furthering education. The social and cultural aspects in which learning take place are likewise vital factors. These interests are in turn dependent on reinforcement by teachers who were able to recognize my respondents’ potential. These essential identification figures personify the intellectual and cultural world and its values, which are very different than the world at home. In addition, these individuals are role models who present the intellectual world as desirable and accessible. One of the results of this identification process is the acquisition of a new vocabulary, interests and behavior. At the same time, this identification is only partial, due to genuine loyalty to conventional working-class values. Despite this allegiance, the need for new knowledge oftentimes provoked aversion and even aggression in former working-class friends. It was not unusual that these friends and their parents projected prejudices about class position on those determined to further their education. Typical are the laziness, snobbishness or exploitation stereotypes. It is ostensibly impossible for the old network to distinguish between the individual and his new position. The tension between the person and his or her place on a higher social ladder (aspired to and still unidentified) is dealt with by the old community

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by de-individualizing that person. This de-individualization can be manifested as rejection or even as idealization. For example, professional advice is requested or the person with (supposed) influence is approached in an attempt by the requester to attain a better position. Both rejection and idealization can be seen as symbolic acceptance of the new social position. Simultaneously, there is an attempt to integrate the feeling of incongruity that the individual, still perceived as a native son or daughter, has achieved a doctor’s status. This de-individualization is in sharp contrast with the deeper significance of the path taken that is the fundamental experience having been left to one’s own resources. Thus, the only way to transcend class is to develop individuality. The prevailing message in the interviews is “We did it ourselves.” But this process of individualization—while being confronted with the experience of de-individualization—is a source of duality and uncertainty. This duality is manifested, on one hand, through the development of communication patterns based on equality and, on the other, through the desire to communicate with family as equals. At the same time, there is a real need to reveal and legitimatize themselves to the family, although the family never asks about their lives. In fact, this disclosure and legitimatization can be interpreted as a process of distancing themselves from an alter ego (the person one could have become but never wanted to). Striking are a strong sense of individual responsibility and the rejection of group solidarity. This individualistic attitude can become a source of conflict with the family in regard to social obligations, both within the family and to society. Another example is the rejection of working-class solidarity, as interpreted by elitist feminism and the student movement of the sixties and the seventies. Without denying the emancipative aspects of these movements, a number of my respondents have expressed that, in fact, these ideologies are no more than familiar and revamped forms of condescending, noncommittal egalitarianism. Moreover, the collectivism of the ideology of the student movement sharply contradicts the emancipation of the individual from the collective pressure of the working-class background. There is a distinction made between the working class as a political concept and as a real-life condition. But everlasting commitment to the working-class condition is nonetheless tangible through labor, as the key aspect in the organization of life. This is the central theme, implicit and explicit in all interviews. It is also the preferred means of becoming established in the higher class.

The Making of Cultural Differences Despite the accent on individual responsibility, integration in the higher social class, in fact, remains partial. Although well integrated by education and professional qualifications, my respondents were repeatedly confronted with testing and corrective behavior by colleagues and superiors.

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There is a sense that the middle-class lifestyle is taken for granted and that most colleagues do not even know that other lifestyles even exist. The consequence is that middle-class values are seen as exclusive and absolute standards. Respondents’ painful experiences are not so much due to denial or disdain—though it happens—but the amazement of the others that they are somehow different and do not belong. This is the essential experience of difference, effectuated through acts of testing and passing judgment. As previously mentioned, a central role is played by mothers. Testing and judging are—as described by Bourdieu (1979)—cultural activities. It does not take very long after successfully entering the professional milieu to observe that social and cultural criteria regulate career possibilities and often carry more weight than professional criteria. This has less to do with the influence of esprit de corps or an old boys’ network, but is more closely related to visible and invisible personality traits such as flair, natural appearance and personal presentation. Two aspects of this phenomenon are discerned. First, contrary to colleagues from higher classes, respondents do not present themselves authoritatively. Moreover, they perceive that this trait is inherent among natural leaders. Secondly, respondents report that colleagues take their work for granted and exercise management tasks as if they were part of a game. They feel that not ever having had experienced the insecurity of fi nancial shortage, material gain is not a guiding principle. The majority of respondents never knew real poverty, but the threat was never far off. And even more important are the consequences of a family history of poverty and marginalization. These have created an attitude of earnestness, caution and a conscious desire to safeguard security. Mastering material circumstances comes more naturally than exploiting opportunities and manipulating people. Therefore, according to my respondents, game playing is a key trait of management functionaries and a typical product of middle-class socialization. At the start of the career, an attitude of earnestness and security safeguarding is directed towards a steady job. As a consequence, and in periods of high academic unemployment, some respondents accepted jobs they were overqualified for and never fully recovered from the career setback. Therefore, having a suitable academic job after graduation means a secure start of adult life. It is not an open-ended fi rst step towards an ambitious career with countless possibilities to satisfy self-centered aims. Nevertheless, most of my respondents describe themselves as ambitious, while qualifying this ambition as emergent and not premeditated. Long-term goal planning is not self-evident but rather usually viewed as an evolving product of tackling challenges. The discovery that missed career chances have had to do with a lack of planning of life and career often comes too late. Another vital perception relayed by respondents is the difference in communication styles rooted in class. Almost all my respondents have arrived in work and family contexts in which daily practice is usually regulated by dialogue, exchanging ideas and thoughts, questioning, decision-making,

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listening, and responding to implicit or explicit messages. This communicative richness and openness is the product of a secondary learning process. Once this communicative competence has been acquired, the awareness of lacking total proficiency, fi nesse and the myriad of communication possibilities remains. This has less to do with changing vocabularies and freedom of expression than intuitive subtleties of diplomacy and strategy. Especially for top positions, in which social and cultural competencies carry more weight than professional ones, these competencies are further tested. Here the notion of cultural capital is particularly illuminating. Testing relates to taste but is also about the capability to understand and handle ambiguous methods of communication. Grasping and accepting underlying messages implies understanding and acceptance of the social disparity constructed by the message. There are numerous narratives about mixed messages when being confronted with the requirements of the taste hierarchy. Respondents found that taste, as an aesthetic expression, is used as an instrument to regulate entrance: a piece of clothing is not beautiful because you like it but because it shows you master and can apply the taste priorities of the higher circles. This is connected to a complex and subtle process of inclusion and exclusion. In fact, all my respondents born in the lower classes experience that they do not have a chance in such culturally closed contexts, despite all the conventionally held rhetoric about diversity and equal opportunity.

Cultural Connotation of Professionalism None of my respondents mentioned having had the support of a social network on the path to a socially successful position. Career success is solely defi ned in individual and professional terms; it is reached and maintained by such competencies as hard work, commitment, professional ability and knowledge. Additionally, the ability to independently perform and motivation for perfection are mentioned; achievements have been accomplished on their own. Especially notable in my view is that through the undeniable emphasis on professionalism, a certain tension is revealed between professional and managerial perspectives. The prevailing sense among my respondents is that managers frustrate professional autonomy; they miss expert knowledge. Numerous respondents insist that managers use their influence and power to alter professional standards. These standards are inspired by businesslike thinking, and it is not unexpected to discover that—from the perspective of a working-class upbringing—managerial values serve as a contra-identification in the construction of professional identity. I suppose the introduction of an economic-inspired terminology versus professional ethics recalls old aversions to economic and social dependency, which can be escaped through an independent professional domain. In my opinion this is the major cause for careers not developing in a managerial or leadership direction. Respondents convey repeatedly that a secondary function as

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a background expert is more fitting. Acting as a backbone of an organization is acceptable, if from a subordinate position. This attitude can be seen as a natural talent for subordination. Even after having arrived on a high hierarchical level, this attitude has not vanished completely; respondents presenting their achievements as an exceptional product of hard work, and not as self-evident, are an indication. Despite the mentioned challenges, professional qualities have a greater influence than social and cultural ones when determining selection criteria; namely, in the exact science fields there are actual opportunities to reach a higher hierarchical position.

9.3

AGENCY

How and to what extent did my respondents feel that they actively shaped their lives and careers? And can this self-determination be characterized as an effect of identity capital as described by Coté (1996, 1997, and 2006) and Coté and Levine (2002)? Life and career appears to most respondents as a trajectory in which acts and decisions are connected to intermittent and contextual challenges, occurring in events, facts, and circumstances, presenting themselves without plan or intention. I call this the dynamics of emergency. Noteworthy is the absence of terminology expressing choice; instead reference is made to challenges and adequate reactions. Only one respondent presented his life course as the unfolding of an imminent plan, meaning that the seeds of what he was to become were present in his youth. However, he too found significance in circumstances and chance encounters. The awareness of limiting and stimulating circumstances and of the essential impact of others is accompanied by a strong sense that social transition is the product of one’s own efforts. The experienced marginalization at the starting point has been transformed to strength, tenacity and resolve to swim upstream. Above all, a courageous attitude is instrumental in overcoming fear and aversion. Although intelligence and talent for scholarship are certainly imperative, data show that hard work, perseverance and ability to adequately deal with personal setbacks play an even greater part in a successful study and career. The source of these competencies is the working-class environment. Then again, we see the ongoing complexity of learning the skills to grasp the intricacies of obscure and elaborate communication. What is more, traces of negative associations rooted in the working-class background persist in feelings of subordination, eagerness to belong, and a dependency on the approval of others. More than one respondent suffered chronic social anxiety. Success in social transformation depends, in essence, on individual ability to negotiate contextual circumstances on the basis of personal strength. This means that the quality of individual agency is central. This quality can be seen as a sort of capital. It

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is also an ideal resource, achieved or attained, and has been instrumental in providing the wherewithal to grasp complex events. Individual agency lies at the core of my respondents’ assertion that they have guided themselves on their own paths. It is a quality that has secured a genuine position of belonging in their current milieu.

9.4

THE COHERENCE OF THE THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

From the Inside Out This research is the product of my investigation into the process of upward social mobility, as viewed from the inside out. This approach differs from the determination of objective interrelationships between social antecedents, social-economic factors and politics. My primary focal point has, thus, not been directed on the correlations between such variables as vocation and/ or educational level of parents, styles of childrearing and culture. I view social transcendence and emancipation to be the manifestation of a process of an acquisition of meaning within a social and cultural context. Furthermore, central to the investigation is to discover what it actually means to arrive in a social milieu with a higher status. However, spotlighting the subjective does not disregard the impact of so-called objective factors; it is instead a shift of focus. Still, broad insight can be provided into objective factors and correlations between variables regarding the chances of a child from a lower social milieu to enter university. At the same time, they fail to question why this is the case for one child and not for another. Despite the objectivity of antecedents or factors, these are continually subjected to the collective and individual acquisition of meaning as well as interpretation. For example, an important fi nding based on research of upward social mobility is a strong correlation between the educational level of parents and the study choices of their children (Ganzeboom & Ultee, 1996). By looking at the significance of education in the childrearing practice from the inside out, I was able to determine that in the case of objectively absent education for parents, this reality could nonetheless provide a meaningful and positive influence. A shift is, thus, hereby concurrent: education is incorporated in a complex, stimulating interrelationship of meanings that can be characterized by the following words: “We had the capacity but were deprived the chances.” This is an acquisition of meaning that cannot be viewed in a merely subjective light. It is an inseparable part of a constant dynamic connection between the contextual and individual growth process. I consider Hall’s identity concept especially adequate for describing this connection. This theory includes social diversity as well as self-awareness, stratification, confidence to act, subjective autonomy, and, moreover, interaction with the social context. Where the narratives of respondents, for example, summon specific myths, my approach is inspired by a search for the social

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roots of these myths, as well as their concrete significance and consequences for the construction of identity. Finally, I can conclude that it is specifically the perspective, from the inside out, that facilitates the feasibility to reveal the enormous complexity of social transition. Subjectivity and context retain their own significance but continually traverse one another’s boundaries: the evidence is based on research concerning the individual experience and perception of the confrontation with challenges that arise in the context. What this evidence demonstrates, in particular, is that the biographical development I describe is not emblematic for a social pattern exemplifying what inevitably happens when one has fewer opportunities. Shown, to the contrary, are unique and constructive reactions to the breakdown of traditional social relationships and unstable associations with new social relationships (Beck & Beck-Gernsheim, 2002).

Social and Cultural Capital The empirical material shows a conflicting picture in regard to individualization. On the one hand, the inevitability of individualization exists, while, on the other, there is a confrontation with complex forms of inclusion and exclusion by social associations and networks. Even when my respondents had achieved a university degree, they were soon aware that other factors besides professional requirements were demanded for their specialized field. They thus discovered that the possession of a type of capital was compulsory: namely, social and cultural capital. This was expected and considered self-evident in the form of existing business and social networks; regarding the former: customs, codes, and attitudes; regarding the latter, other common conventions in order to make social capital profitable. These typical Bourdieu concepts are, as a rule, interpreted as resources and guiding rules of life (De Graaf & De Graaf, 1996) or parenting practices (Kingston, 2001), according to the positivistic approach. Central to Kingston’s premise are personal traits that receive more consideration in one class than in another, though in principle transcend class. There is no conclusive evidence, according to Kingston, that class-related differences in cultural capital (defined in terms of elitist culture) explain why socially privileged students are more successful than unprivileged ones (Kingston, 2001: 49). In other words, what is crucial is the mere presence of books, music, and art, but how parents and teachers make use of these in education and childrearing practices. The problem with this approach by Graaf & Graaf and Kingston is that the unique significance of cultural capital, as characterized by Bourdieu, is lost in its implementation. This unique significance concerns the creation of social differentiation. Crucial to Bourdieu is the relationship between the objective and subjective, so that the construction of social differentiation is contained in the right attitudes and exact understanding of codes and rituals. Bourdieu is thus less concerned with taste itself or the content or amount of culture than the effort made in the field of action. The focal point is habitus—that is, social

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differentiation is generated by who or what individuals are, how individuals think or act, and how they present themselves in the societal field. Strong interrelationships between the deepest physical and psychological levels and the sociological conditions in which the individual lives are key. These comprise the totality of individual presentation. Particularly illustrative in my data are the references to an aura, which is emanated by the others, in contrast to my respondents’ own sense of lacking aura. Additionally is the manner that the others move in the social strata and occupy certain sections of the professional field. The last mentioned, according to those interviewed, is managed by exercising a certain style of social interaction and (denigrating) language. Even after numerous respondents have acquired the aesthetics and taste generally found among higher classes, there is still an understanding that the core issue is instead incorporated attitudes and lifestyles that will always remain outside the realm of the newcomers. This encompasses the original connotation of Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital.

Identity Capital In order to go beyond the deterministic connotation of the concepts of social and cultural capital, I have drawn on Coté’s notion of identity capital. On one hand, this concept is closely associated with Bourdieu, as it points out that individuals must possess certain capital in order to transcend socially. At the same time, a change of paradigm from social determination to individual confrontation with the social and cultural context is taking place. Moreover, the concept of identity capital is fundamentally connected with the notions of identity formation and identity construction. I describe identity formation as a universal psychological process that refers to the subject’s integrating, synthesizing, negotiating, and performing potential. Within this framework the concepts of social, cultural and identity capital are complementary. The drawback of making cultural capital operational, in terms of resources (Graaf & Graaf, 1996) or personal traits (Kingston, 2001), is the following: cultural capital is hereby individualized and the typical social significance undermined and so reduced to a background characteristic. This results in a tendency towards equalizing cultural and identity capital. This is followed by the loss of unique and exceptional meanings. The specific significance of the notion of identity capital as elaborated by Coté (2006) and Coté & Levine (1998) is that they presuppose that individuals are capable of disassociation from and negotiation with the demands of the context through the employment of personal qualities. This concept, herewith, presupposes a subjective autonomy (also thematized by Hall) in the form of agency and reflection. With few exceptions, my respondents speak of confrontations with the social and cultural context in terms of structural limitations as well as in regard to their own performance. They are acutely aware of their own

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origins as well as the accompanying social and cultural limitations plus their own qualities and the potential that they have deployed. Hard work, perseverance and professional competence are especially cited as principal developmental competencies. I have therefore characterized these as traits of identity capital in my research. I have referred above to the relationship between social and cultural capital on the one hand and between social and identity capital on the other, as complementary. This statement implies that a shortage of social and/or cultural capital can fi nd compensation in identity capital. Numerous statements by respondents illustrate that it is namely through this compensation that individualization is initiated. When individuals have no networks at their disposal and therefore have no cultural capital to offer for facilitating social positioning, they are then reliant on their own strengths. This personal strength has the propensity to surface on a professional level and subsequently puts the significance of social connections and incorporated manifestations of culture into perspective. Thus, what is lacking is compensated. And at the same time, these individuals demonstrate that independent from social ties—in circles where connections count—they are able to grow and manifest themselves, through the sheer merits of expertise and personal strength. Lubrano (2004) provides the following counterexample: through the merits of her accomplishments, a journalist—daughter of a fi refighter—is offered a job with a glossy magazine but cannot afford to continue because the function is poorly paid. Her colleagues, who she considers to sorely lack talent, are able to remain with parental fi nancial support; the co-workers are from wealthy homes and every one of their poor-quality articles is celebrated by parents as an award-winning achievement. In this case cultural (and economic) capital compensates a lack of identity capital. In the case of my respondents, identity capital compensates a lack of social and cultural capital. An essential aspect of identity capital—as presented in my data—is also found on the identification level. Therefore, not only individual traits are involved, such as intelligence, perseverance and other personal abilities, but in addition there are representations that are identified with and integrated into identity construction. Consequently, there is also an aspect with respect to content implicated. Specific content-bearing meanings and cultural forms from the higher class appear to exercise an exceptional force of attraction. Examples are politics, literature and music, but especially the prospect of participating within a milieu where open communication and the exchange of ideas on intellectual and sociologic topics are accepted behaviors. The sense that there is no way back, not even by choice—which is experienced during moments of crisis— illustrates the force of this identifi cation. But still there are examples of family, friends, and acquaintances who have not pursued the path of education. It is neither lack of strength nor lack of perseverance cited as the sole cause. Instead there is simply no interest in the other culture

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and the appeal of old friends and putting practical skills to practice are decisive factors.

9.5 THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: AN ATTEMPT

Fascinated by the Cognitive Discourse Notable in all respondents’ narratives is a fascination during adolescence for the cognitive or a lifestyle that is focused on the processing of knowledge. This fascination during childhood is preceded by characteristic elements within the family culture. Examples are parents’ recurring laments that they had never had the opportunity to study despite their intelligence and capabilities, family histories, specific interests, or via means of views and experiences learned from parents. During the school years, role models further stimulated, facilitated and formed this interest. In addition, intelligence as potential and perspective has a key function: intelligence is recognized and therefore special attention is awarded by both family and school, which in turn promotes development. Subsequently, future perspective is revealed, in which professional knowledge instead of manual labor is central. The role models make it understood that knowledge processing does not stand alone but needs to be integrally linked to a meaningful whole, where knowledge can thrive. This is a way of life in which knowledge is integrated and shared among household members. In other words, there is a longing for a life where the cognitive is the driving force and creator of coherence. Because there is a question of both a central and motivating thought consistent with practices, in order to realize this idea, I speak of a discourse (Foucault, 1970; Fairclough, 2003). The fascination for this cognitive discourse appears in three different forms in my research data. Firstly, there is a matter of a cultural discourse, where the cognitive fascination is manifested in a keen interest for music, literature and religion. A second fascination is expressed as a social ethical discourse, shaped by social and political interests and service. Lastly, there is an intense curiosity about the world of physics and chemistry. These fascinations can be comprised of a narrow focus on one or the other; they can also have intermediate forms and run into one another, eventually evolving into specific interests. The specific significance of this cognitive discourse is that these individuals fi nd legitimate motivations to disassociate from the practical-positional discourse, with which they have been brought up. That is a discourse focused on the material management of conditions for existence, the related importance of manual labor and the regulation of gender specific relationships, according to a collective role and position model. As educational levels increase and understanding of the cognitive discourse intensifies and becomes more and more desirable, the sharper the contrast

244 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility with the practical-positional discourse is experienced. Finally, there is the respondents’ realization that they no longer fit in. Important mechanisms in this process are, on the one hand, rejection by old friends and the powerlessness of parents, and, conversely, the incorporating function by role models. In addition, there is a longing for another life, in the knowledge that the intellectual capacities are, in principle, at hand. This inclusion and exclusion is incomplete, as a rule. Although the individual is physically removed from the old world at a certain moment, a tie to key connotations can still remain. This can be expressed, for example, through accentuating the practical significance of the profession or the core significance of labor, as such. Even though this cognitive discourse is not the exclusive motivation to pursue further education on the path of social transcendence, it is nonetheless crucial for the form this transcendence assumes. It especially clarifies the powerful urge of individuals to distinguish themselves and to direct focus towards the professional level. Professional content is where the focus is centered, rather than secondary relationships. When this motivation is absent, higher education takes on a different significance. Based on the conclusions of Archer, Hutchings and Ross (2006) in their research among the British laboring class, social transition can also be implemented through other types of discourse. A typical combination of masculinity and consumption discourse can thus discourage boys from pursuing a university education. Instead, the choice is then made for a short training trajectory, with the aim of fi nding work quickly and earning fast money. The results of Archer, Hutchings and Ross (2006) and my own data show that cognitive discourse must mentally and emotionally compete with other discourse types and that the choice to adhere to cognitive discourse demands both effort and reflection. And, fi nally, it becomes evident that an existence through cognitive discourse is the only choice there is.

The Dialogical Discourse The moment that the promise and prospects connected to cognitive discourse are fulfilled (through, for instance, a university degree), the confrontation with the world of the higher social class commences. It is here that actions and social relationships are derived from what I call dialogical interactive discourse or simply dialogical discourse. Central to this discourse is that individual actions and social affiliations are in a constant state of flux and the objective of discussion and interactive intervention. Furthermore, this is based on the assumption that this dialogue cannot be characterized as free and devoid of power relationships; it is a multifaceted dialogue with ambiguous connotations, including argumentation and persuasion as well as manipulation and seduction. In addition, this discourse is now presented as the central integration mechanism of the new social milieu, which means that the neophyte has to mentally and emotionally

Abstract and Conclusions

245

unite the dialogical discourse with the cognitive discourse. The cognitive discourse defi nes and provides the drive for the professional work field; alternatively, dialogical discourse affords the verbal, communicative and social means to relate to those in the new milieu. At the start, the expectations in regard to this dialogical interactive discourse are high; there are methods found to transcend what is sensed as a lack in the positional communication and the group mentality in the practical-positional discourse. Of even greater significance is that within the new milieu the autonomy of professional behavior and agency is organized by this discourse; from this moment on, what counts is who you are and not what you are. It is thus on this level that the newcomers sense and experience the dysfunction of the practical-positional discourse. Then again, ambiguous meanings revealed in unfamiliar cultural codes, absent social networks and hidden agendas are the realities of dialogical discourse. At this point it may be apparent that the dialogical also involves exclusion; in the event that this discourse is not come by naturally, the opportunities of cognitive discourse remain limited. It is only in situations where professional aspects predominate, in the exact sciences, for example, that the career perspectives—also regarding supervisory functions—are better. In other professional circles the concentration on professional activity is a valuable means to escape the demands of dialogical discourse. A solid professional repertoire, including competence and expertise, is consequently essential to shape career and attain certain autonomy. From the standpoint of the cognitive discourse, a supervisory function has little appeal for my respondents. The quality of supervisors is therefore assessed from this perspective. My respondents are well aware that the necessary communicative competencies are not part of their own cultural baggage. This approach can therefore clarify the emergent character of ambition. The dynamics of work itself indicate direction, not social and informal networks. Moreover, the influence of practical-positional discourse applies, where career planning with network support is unfamiliar.

Individual Action Cognitive discourse also plays a key role with reference to significance of individual action, in biographical development and career as well as identity construction. However, noteworthy in this regard is that once again values from the practical-positional discourse occupy a prominent place. The fact that the individual has grown to be somebody or has arrived and therefore has some real significance is, above all, seen as the consequence of unambiguous professional effort; it is not attributed to talent for brandishing hidden agendas and manipulating informal networks. Hard work, determination, fighting the odds and meeting challenges are the main devices for identity construction. The sense of being a subject grows proportionately to the feeling of having acted independently and a disassociation from positional

246 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility thinking, namely social phobia and a sense of subordination. This also applies to devious communication styles that exist in the new professional circles. Individuals incorporate just those dialogical and cognitive values that support professional growth, such as autonomy and creativity. Identity capital is acquired by an awareness of the significance of the diverse contexts and discourses and the ability to acquire and utilize these. However, the effect and the area in which identity capital is applied are principally the cognitive and the professional.

9.6

DISCUSSION AND FURTHER RESEARCH

Only Working-Class Children? One pressing question met in both research material and analysis is the measure of specificity of the researched question—in other words, whether the reading I have presented here solely applies to those originating from the working class and academically schooled. Based on a concise comparison with respondents from small business backgrounds, it appears, for instance, that here too a variation of the practical-positional discourse is at work and that comparable communication issues with parents could occur. These respondents also had to take detours to reach their goals because their parents, similar to working-class parents, had limited ideas about the children’s futures. Based on certain statements from respondents I have, however, been able to assume that the responsibility for a business most certainly can make a difference in regard to the measure of ambition parents have for their children; even so, there are numerous commonalities. Disadvantaged farming or lower-middle-class milieus are thus likely to relay comparable narratives about lack of social and cultural capital. However, making a comparative evaluation of various social groups’ experiences and systems of meanings is not an objective of my research. My focus on working-class children had—besides a personal motive— especially to do with the likelihood that here the subject matter is most sharply defi ned and subsequently most representative. It was above all not my goal to determine the distinctions between social groups. It is explicitly the subjective aspects in the process of individual social transition that I have wanted to make known. The biographies under discussion have been powerful illustrations of postmodern individualized lifestyles. Here the empirical material shows, on the one hand, what it means to have had genuinely experienced what social class can mean; at the same time, it demonstrates how an individualized personality develops within the postmodern social economic and social cultural context. My research also shows which mechanisms play a part and what these signify to the individual undergoing the experience. It is in this area that

Abstract and Conclusions

247

the impact of social and cultural practices and the related connotation of agency are demonstrated.

The Mythical University I pose an additional question, resulting from the research results, pertaining to the unique implication of university for attaining a superior social position; the almost mythical proportions ascribed to the concept of university repeatedly arose. Numerous accounts, however, showed that concluding an academic study is not necessarily a guarantee for success and, even for gifted working-class children, not always the best choice.

The Significance of the Cognitive Discourse I advocate for further research as to the significance of the attraction of cognitive discourse. This discourse opens new perspective into a world where intellectual labor takes over the central position of manual labor. This was the obvious drive among my research group and the central mechanism facilitating their transition. The existing question is if this still applies in a changing society; manual labor appears to be on the way to becoming a marginal vocation while dialogical discourse is ever evolving, in the form of job teamwork and meetings. Despite this development, there are milieus where manual labor and jobs requiring minimal schooling are still common and where cognition remains a means to escape.

The Impact of Role Models Further research as to the impact of role models is of major importance. The central significance of these persons—in all phases of personal and professional development—has, in my view, been adequately identified in my research. These are the individuals who have provided the practical tools to grasp the prospect of cognitive action either through setting an example or by way of direct motivation. They provide the blueprint, by showing how a life with intellectual cognitive activity can take shape in the future. Suggested research could be directed towards the relationship between the didactic and pedagogical practices of teachers of children from lower social environments and those children’s opportunities for further education.

Emergent Ambition Another consideration for further study concerns the emergent and nearly coincidental character of ambition and career and the typical rejection of supervisory functions. According to my respondents, success is not something which can be planned and does not always depend on intelligence

248 Cultural Capital, Identity, and Social Mobility or the right choices. Despite the fact that they assess their achievements as their own, they are not always conscious of the context, circumstances and the decisive meaning of these factors. It is not thus a triumph over circumstance by the individual (Gladwell, 2008) but negotiation and waiting and seeing where one is able to land.

Immigrants A fi nal suggestion for further study is in regard to the career and life course of academics born of working-class immigrants. The correlation between upward social mobility and cultural integration deserves particular attention. When social and cultural distinctions include barriers of ethnicity, how are paradoxical loyalties then formed? How do disassociation and attachment relate to one another on a subjective level? What are the parts played by social, cultural and identity capital in the formation of identity and career? There is currently a narrative tradition developing along the lines of the working-class-academic anthologies (Barney Dews & Leste Law, 1995; Ryan & Sackrey, 1996). Such are the accounts and testimonies in Marjo Buitelaar’s book (2009), which offer a transparent and systemized illustration of the dilemmas faced by migrant daughters in the Netherlands when they pursue higher education. Other authentic testimonies are captured in biographies and autobiographies, as, for example, the book by Vermeiren and Idrissi (2005), in which an unambiguous parallel is made between the paths taken in the lives of two members of the Flemish parliament in Belgium, both laborers’ daughters: one a native (Flemish) Belgian and the other a migrant. Even more recently published is the autobiography of Khadija Arib, member of the Dutch parliament (Arib, 2009). In addition, the life story of immigrant son and Amsterdam politician Ahmed Marcouch has received a great deal of media attention, and a chapter of Van Liempt (2008) has been devoted to the biography of Rotterdam’s Moroccan-born mayor, Ahmed Aboutaleb. Moreover, Dutch emigrants such as Abdelkader Benali, Hafid Bouazza and Rachida Lamrabet have established themselves as literary writers. Their personal narratives about social transcendence and cultural integration have been excellent sources of inspiration to many.

Appendix List of Respondents

m/f study

profession of age trajectory respondent

Psychology 59 PUE and AE1

profession of father

profession of mother

Lector, UAS2

Factory worker

Housewife

University teacher

Lathe operator

Housewife

1

f

2

m Pharmacy

57 PUE3

3

m Sociology

53 PUE and Teacher, UAS Indirect4

Construction worker

Housewife

4

m Medicine

57 Indirect

Cardiologist

Electrician

Usher

5

f

Office manager

Factory worker

Housewife

6

m Philosophy 50 PUE and Indirect

University teacher

Printer

Housewife

7

m Theology

55 PUE, UAS Psychiatric and AE nurse

Shipbuilder

Housewife

8

f

Chemistry

55 VT5 and UAS

Library employee

Electrician

Housewife

9

f

History and Law

51 PUE

Teacher, UAS

Railway worker

Cleaning woman

10

m Medicine

59 PUE

Company doctor Electrician

11

m Engineering 51 PUE

Engineer

Car mechanic Housewife

12

m German

High school teacher

House painter

Housewife

13

m Educational 60 Seminary Science

Union leader

Factory worker

Housewife

14

m Linguistics

55 PUE

Member of Par- Decorator liament

Housewife

15

m Biology

54 PUE

Director of an enterprise

Baker

Housewife

16

m Psychology 59 PUE

Director, local government

Factory worker

Factory worker

Educational 50 PUE Science

49 PUE

Housewife

(continued)

250 Appendix m/f

study

profession of age trajectory respondent

profession of father

profession of mother

17

m Medicine

64 PUE

Surgeon

Factory painter

Housewife

18

m Sociology

62 Seminary

Researcher

Taylor

Cleaning woman

19

f

53 PUE

Executive secretary

Electrician

Housewife

20

m Educational 62 TS6 Science

Teacher, univer- Lathe sity and UAS operator

Housewife

21

f

60 PUE and AE

Office job

Bus driver

Housewife

22

m Medicine

59 PUE

School doctor

Cigar maker

Housewife

23

m Law

61 VT and AE

Director, public service

Shepherd

Housewife

24

f

Law

54 PUE and AE

Secretary of the court

Security guard

Housewife

25

m History

62 Seminary

Director, classic Agricultural music center worker

Housewife

26

f

44 PEU Indirect

Ophthalmologist Security guard

Housewife

27

m Physics

64 PUE

Professor

Housewife

28

f

Psychology 59 PUE

Psychotherapist Lathe operator

Housewife

29

f

Educational 46 TS Science

Policy adviser

Maintenance mechanic

Housewife

30

m Educational 65 TS Science

University teacher

Bargeman

Housewife

31

v

Medicine

51 PUE Indirect

Surgeon

Shopkeeper7

Shopkeeper

32

v

Business Administration

54 VT, UAP and AE

School director

Salesman

Housewife

English

Law

Medicine

Steel worker

Notes: 1. AE: started university study in adulthood 2. UAS: University of Applied Sciences 3. PUE: Preparatory University Education 4. Indirect: after a few trials 5. VT: Vocational Training 6. TS: senior secondary education for teachers (no longer exists) 7. Respondents 31 and 32 grew up in a lower-middle-class family (see methodological explanation)

Notes

NOTES TO CHAPTER 1 1. The road to government intervention in Nederland was paved through private initiatives, such as the Innovation Project Amsterdam, Education and Social Milieu in Rotterdam and Education Differentiation in diverse cities (Van Calcar, 1968, Van Calcar e.a.,1977; Van Heek, 1968; Rupp, 1970, 1972). 2. Distributive justice is associated with the result of the distribution of benefits and procedural justice with the correctness of the legal procedure (Rawls, 1971; Wilbrink, 1999). 3. The most well-known scheme used for comparative study internationally is the EGP class scheme, named after its creators (Erikson, Goldthorpe and Portocarero). Ganzeboom and Luijkx’s work is based, to a large extent, on this scheme. The concept of Blau and Duncan is of importance as well, where besides a father’s profession, his education was added as a statistical criterion for social mobility (see Ganzeboom & Treiman, 2007). 4. The term ear-ôles refers to a “hole in the ear” where knowledge passes through. 5. In a 2002 interview Willis evades the answer to the question of whether he had seen himself as an ear-ôle or as a lad, in order to discover how he dealt with the incongruity: his response is that he enjoyed learning (and was thus an ear-ôle) but could also feel like a lad, thanks to rugby. 6. Acceptable to the community that maintains the interpretation frameworks (for example, social science). 7. Bruner speaks of “epiphany” (2004: 696). 8. There are no defi ned borders between the researcher and the study participant, according to hermeneutics. The constant comparison method creates a more objective relationship between researcher and subject by applying a number of techniques, thus allowing for an objective account of the phenomena (in terms of cause and effect). 9. I am grateful to Hennie Boeije for her practical support and advice.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 2 1. To refer to my research group, I apply the term “working class.” In reference to the actual social stratification debates (Pakulski & Waters, 1996; Bottero, 2005), this term is disputable as an actually existent and conceivable uniform social category. Based on my selection criterion of a manual laborer father

252 Notes for the study participants, from a pragmatic perspective I consider this to be an adequate term.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 3 1. Despite all the effort to create a fi ne distinction in favor of agency, the anthologies from the United States, inspired by Bowles and Gintis, as well as the British sociology of education, inspired by Bourdieu, rather assume a causal relationship between objective class positions and identity forms. 2. The term interpellation (in French and English) refers to the summons to appear in court, therefore the connotation of inevitability. 3. British sociology of education is presently confronted with a lively debate regarding the relationship between class and identity (Emmison & Western, 1990; Kane, 2006; Reay, 2005; Savage, Bagnall & Longhurst, 2001; Sørensen, 1991). 4. The terminological confusion in regard to self and self-identity is striking. Social psychology speaks of the self, with the emphasis on awareness and the experience aspect of the individual. Identity, however, also refers to aspects of presentation of the ego in the external world, of socialization and of (unconscious) desires that constitute the sense of ego. 5. This concept is closely related to the notion of democracy (Mead, 1967: 326). 6. Subject refers to the ego that is competent to act, that is able to intervene and interact in the objective world (agency). 7. Here Hall positions himself as a realist in the postmodernist debate and rejects concepts that maintain an absolutist and solipsistic view of the self, that is an integral self that is thought to originate on the foundation of a closed narrative of the self (despite the “inflated tales”). 8. Coté and Levine point out a difference in the European and American approach towards individualization. The evidence of an individualized society in the United States is much stronger than in Europe, where particularly in Great Britain the debate about the relationship class society versus individualization is heated with sharply opposing views (see Pakulski & Waters, 1996; Marsh, 2007).

NOTES TO CHAPTER 4 1. The cipher before the underscore refers to the respondent (see appendix); the cipher that follows refers to the position of the citation in the MaxQda database. 2. “University of applied sciences”: the international name of the schools for higher vocational education in the Netherlands (in Dutch: Hogeschool, in German: Hochschule). University education is provided by universities, university-level institutions, the Open University, and by teaching hospitals (source: Nuffic Glossary). 3. The lowest level of vocational training at the time. 4. In the Netherlands called “Gymnasium,” a pre-university education, comparable to English grammar schools, that includes the study of Latin and/or Greek. (Source: Nuffic Glossary.) 5. MULO: advanced elementary school (a no-longer-existing form of lower secondary education).

Notes

253

NOTES TO CHAPTER 5 1. In order to prepare for university, children in the Netherlands are required, at the age of twelve, to follow secondary pre-university education. 2. MULO (defunct): advanced elementary school; MAVO: junior general secondary education (source: Nuffic Glossary) 3. The interviewee refers to the youth culture of the fi fties: working-class boys usually rode Zundapp mopeds and the students rode Puchs. 4. In the Netherlands to graduate from a university means obtaining a master’s degree. 5. There is a distinct difference in attitude and culture between the Dutch from the province of Limburg (in the south) and those from the center or towards the north. The former refer to the others as “Hollanders.” 6. This is in contrast to the popularity these have gained in recent years. The most elitist fraternities and sororities were infamous for their hazing rituals.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 6 1. It’s not what you say but how you say it.

NOTES TO CHAPTER 9 1. In Europe, employment with a permanent contract provides lasting security for both job and pension benefits and applies to the entire labor market. Job termination is then almost impossible because strict labor laws lean strongly in favor of employees’ rights. As children brought up in workingclass families, respondents were well aware of the implications of a permanent contract.

References

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Index

A ability. See professional qualifications achievement. See professional accomplishment agency. See agent agenda, 205; hidden, 24, 83, 89, 147, 153, 163, 220, 245 agent, 6, 15, 47, 51, 195, 223; Agency, 15, 23, 45, 46, 48, 48, 49, 53, 54, 56, 57, 61, 62, 63, 64, 156, 238, 239, 241, 245, 247, 252; and identity capital, 63; of meaning, 47 Alvesson, M., 26, 27 ambition, 34, 35, 36, 41, 42, 65, 68, 81, 126, 127–130, 131, 132, 133, 142, 143, 147, 152, 160, 162, 192, 199, 230, 232, 246; and motherhood, 233; educational, 73, 80; emerging, 130, 162, 199, 231, 232, 236; growing (see emerging ambition); lack of (see low ambition); lack of planning of, 197, 232; level of, 2, 67, 68, 139; limited (see low ambition); middle-class, 69, 188, 193, 233; low, 37, 38, 79, 124, 127, 131, 138, 139, 216, 219; professional, 162, 197, 198, 231, 232; restricted (see low ambition); sense of, 79; social, 3; societal, 159; stimulating, 79; type of, 131; unfulfilled, 69 anticipation. See identity Archer, L., 31, 34, 38, 39, 46, 244 autobiography. See biography autonomy. See subject

B background, social, 35, 36, 41, 43, 60, 67, 76, 96, 126, 162, 171, 176, 194, 206, 228; business

(see middle-class background); characteristic, 241; community (see milieu background); educational, 20, 123; family, 1, 2, 16, 33, 177, 199; farming, 70, 132; higher class, 3; leadership and, 151, 216, 229; middle-class, 69, 72, 132, 193, 246; milieu, 17, 33, 123; musical, 182–183; working-class, 3, 11, 30, 37, 39, 41, 52, 113, 115, 131, 134, 141, 149, 188, 193, 203, 210, 226, 235, 238 Ball, S. J., 36, 38 Barney Dews, C.L., 1, 14, 31, 39, 248 Beck, U., 10, 14, 58, 59, 240 Beck-Gernsheim, E., 10, 14, 58, 59, 240 Berting, J., 9 Biographical. See biography biography, 10, 24, 29, 43, 59, 195, 202, 209; autobiography, 25, 196, 248; choice, 10–11, 12, 58, 208, 209; narratives, 14, 22, 26, 31, 59, 196; standard, 10–11, 58, 208 Black, L.J., 32, 33 Black, P., 33, 39, 52 Boeije, H., 26, 27, 28 Bolt, L., 12 Bonte, A.,7 Bourdieu, P., 7, 14, 45, 49, 50, 53, 60, 62, 164, 165, 173, 177, 179, 185, 190, 236, 240, 241, 252 Bowles, S., 7, 14, 31, 252 Brands, J., 1, 2, 4, 5, 14, 31–41, 44, 68, 89, 178, 204, 226 Bruner, J .,22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 251

C capital, cultural, 14, 45, 50, 59, 60, 61, 62, 164, 165, 177, 178,

268

Index

179, 184, 187, 190, 194, 237, 240–241, 241, 242, 246, 248; embodied, 177 capital, economic, 190, 242 capital, identity. See identity capital, social, 50, 164, 240–241 Charlip, J.A.,38 Childers, M., 21, 34, 39, 41, 42, 52, 56 choice, 24, 33, 108, 112, 125, 163, 199, 208, 209, 212, 220, 226, 233; biography (see biography); career, 3, 5, 9, 37–38, 162, 226, 227, 230–231; freedom of, 11; individual, 11; of clothing, 173; of life, 21, 25, 58; partner, 187; pragmatic, 117, 124; process of making, 108; rational, 21; study, 3, 4, 5, 25, 89, 108, 110, 125, 207, 225, 233, 239, 244 Christopher, R., 33, 36, 39 class consciousness. See identity class, social, 6, 7, 49, 246; background (see social background,); lower, 13, 180, 213, 223; social classification, 52, 63, 183; integration into, 194, 226; differences between classes, 8, 14, 177; higher, 10, 38, 50, 95, 153, 173, 204, 235, 244; transition, 14, 58 classification, social. See social class Cobb, J., 30, 32, 38 codes, communication. See communication codes, cultural. See communication codes, social. See communication Coetsier, L., 7 commitment. See identification communication, 4, 5, 37, 87, 184, 221, 237; adaptation, 25; affinity for, 95; ambiguous, 229, 237; and professional identity (see identity); anti-, 88; at work, 152–159, 187, 219; autonomy, 25 (see also subject); broken down, 86; coalition, 53; codes, 29, 34, 36, 39, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 162, 163, 172, 173, 174, 175, 180, 194, 204, 229, 230, 240, 245; cognitive, 243, 244, 245, 247; complexity of (see layers of communication); consumption, 244; context, 186, 187, 228; cultural, 243; culture, 82, 95; dialogical, 26, 27, 55, 95, 228, 230, 236,

244–245, 246, 247; direct, 219, 220, 229; diversity and, 34; educational, 52, 84; forms (see communication patterns); game, 89, 153, 218–221; gap, 88, 218; intimacy, 93–94, 100; lack of, 86, 88, 227; layers of, 184, 218, 238; managerial, 219, 220; masculinity, 244; miscommunication, 17, 228; network, 152, 163 (see also social network); non-, 4, 84, 88; norms, 171; one-way, 86; open, 100, 102, 194, 218, 219, 220, 226, 228, 230, 242; patterns, 34, 36, 50, 65, 71, 84, 86, 89, 95, 113, 218, 220, 224, 228, 229, 235, 236, 246; practicalpositional, 90–91, 243–244, 245, 246; practices (see patterns); problems, 65, 228; professional, 220, 229, 230; scientific, 22; skills, 29, 153, 162, 228; social meaning of, 187; style (see patterns); survival, 25; verbal, 85, 221, 229; with parents, 4, 36, 75, 77, 82, 84, 85, 86, 88, 92, 95, 212, 220, 228, 246 competences. See professional qualifications Coté, J., 11, 45, 46, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 64, 238, 241, 252 culture, 3, 11, 12, 23, 32, 50, 54, 55, 61, 63, 69, 70, 74, 111, 123, 173, 176, 182, 197, 225, 240, 242; childrearing, 123, 239, communication (see communication); confrontation of, 179; definition, 173; family, 4, 6, 14, 28, 32, 69, 71, 72, 89, 110, 131, 167, 178, 196, 243; gap, 8; 226; high, 12, 34, 73, 110, 159, 165, 173, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 194, 224, 225, 226, 240; lacking, 225, 226; local, 33; macho, 51, 166; of living, 102, 103, 217, 220, 222; subculture, 11, 12, 103, 107, 115, 167, 183, 227, verbal (see communication); working-class, 11, 12, 72, 73, 74, 103, 123, 167; youth, 13, 103, 225, 253 culture, academic. See university

D David, M., 36, 38

Index De Graaf, N.D., 240, 241 De Graaf, P.M., 240, 241 De Witte, H., 9 Deetz, S., xi, 25 de-individualization. See individualization dialogue. See communication difference, 34, 54; differentiate, 206; on the work floor, 174; social, 165 differentiate. See difference discourse, 23, 25, 28, 58, 196, 243, 246 Disloyalty. See loyalty distinct. See distinction distinction, 22, 23, 24, 45, 53, 54, 55, 140, 141, 147, 184, 216, 235; distinctive, 11, 178; experience of, 45; social, 50, 165, 166, 191, 246; class, 170, 189, 229,; sense of, 50; as identity determining criterion, 54; distinct, 14, 54, 63, 65 distinctive. See distinction diversity, 3, 6, 16, 45, 46, 49, 51, 60, 194, 237; discourse, 34; of meanings,185; of social contexts, 6, 32, 45, 53, 63, 223, 239 Dronkers, J., 8, 9, 13, 184 Du Bois-Reymond, M., 10 Du Gay, P., 55 Dyhouse, C., 3

E Elias, N., 12 emancipation, 1, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 51, 235, 239; emancipatory, 14, 161, 162, 18, 235 Emmison, M., 49, 252 Erikson, E., 11, 58, 60 escape, 4; escapism, 199; from class culture, 11, 172; from family, 4, 78, 168, 227, 228; from patriarchism, 54; in fantasy, 33, 43, 225; in professional domain, 237, 245;, 187; from social pressure, 50, 166, 247 escapism. See escape ethnicity, 13, 32, 58, 59, 60, 63, 248 Evens, T.M.S., 50 exclusion, 8, 33, 34, 50, 52, 55, 77, 156, 168, 170, 172, 176, 180, 191, 218, 227, 234, 240,

269

245; exclusive club, 156, 174; inclusion, 133, 237, 240, 244; mechanism, 224; self-exclusion, 168, 231; social, 8, 172 experience, personal, 1, 2, 6, 22, 25, 59, 208

F fantasy. See escape Fay, B., 22, 26, 27, 57 Fay, E.A., 1, 15, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 41 functionalism, structural, 49

G Ganzeboom, H.G.B., 9, 239 Garger, S., 33, 34, 35, 178 gate-keeper, 60, 175 gender, 19, 31, 32, 58, 59, 60, 63, 232, 233, 234 generation, 3, 70, 71, 118, 168, 176, 193, 211; battles, 4; fi rst, 3, 40, 70; gap, 4, 224; next, 12, 187 Giddens, A., 11, 22, 25, 45, 49, 50, 51, 53, 57, 59, 61, 62, 63, 194, 196 Gintis, H., 7, 14, 31, 252 grants, 7, 8, 119, 120, 121, 192; upheaval, caused by, 121; study loan, 7, 8, 33, 83, 117, 118, 119, 120–121, 136, 175, 185; scholarship, 7, 117, 118, 119, 120 Gubrium, J.F.,47, 48

H habitus, 50, 62, 240 Hall, S., 45, 46, 54, 55, 56, 57, 63, 173, 195, 241, 252 Halsall, A., 34 hermeneutics. See qualitative research Hollingworth, S., 34 Holstein, J.G., 47, 48 Hurrelman, K., 10, 11, 53 Hutchings, M., 36, 244 Huyse, L., 3, 4, 5, 14, 25, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 221, 232

I identification, 26, 33, 35–36, 37, 39, 45, 46, 47, 49, 51, 52, 53, 63, 172, 210, 227, 242; as a construction process, 56, 234; category, 55, 63, 115; commitment, 22, 47, 58, 60, 197, 235, 237; contra-identification, 52, 198,

270 Index 237; figure, 83, 100, 177, 234; identify, 55, 63, 74, 90, 164, 168, 211, 218, 242; mechanism, 213, 234; model, 124, 225, 226; music as mean of identification, 103, 225; negative, 216; noncommittal, 235; partial, 55, 234; profi le, 220; social identity theory, 44, 51–53, 63, 183; with a social group, 54, 63, 103, 198–199, 212; with imaginary community, 55; with the parents, 215, 228; with values, 52, 227, 234 identify. See identification identity, 2, 10, 15, 24–25, 44, 49, 56; achieved, 44; ascribed, 44; anticipation, 40, 41; capital, 11, 12, 46, 57, 58, 59–61, 64, 195, 221, 222, 238, 241, 242, 246, 248; class consciousness, 49; class identity, 49, 59; choices, 58; compensation by identity capital, 243–244; construction, 10, 12, 15, 17, 23, 24, 27, 32, 44, 45, 46, 56, 57, 61, 62, 63–64, 194, 195, 196, 203, 209, 210, 213, 215, 217, 220, 221, 222, 240, 241, 245; corporate identity, 48; crisis, 118, 208, 218; defi nition of, 46–47, 47, 49; ego-, 58, 61; formation, 42, 57, 61, 63–64, 241, 248; fragmented, 53–57, 62–63; individualized, 59; layered, 15, 25, 30, 39, 63, 209–210; middleclass, 56; perseverance, 35, 39, 97, 106, 132, 177, 197, 222, 238, 242; personal identity, 56, 223; politics, 36; professional, 91–92, 146, 147, 174, 193, 213, 223, 232, 237; rationalization, 40, 41; reinforcing, 214, 215; self, 47; self-awareness, 196; self-identification, 47; self-loyalty, 196; significance of social background for, 3, 27, 51, 239; social, 15, 44, 63, 210; strategies, 59; working-class, 56 Iedema, J., 58 immigrant, 12, 13, 54, 55, 113, 161, 172, 184, 211, 248; immigration, 54, 133, 161, 162 immigration. See Immigrant

inclusion. See exclusion individualism, 39, 48, 49, 115 individualization. See society Individualizing. See society inequality, social, 8, 9, 14, 15, 58, 176; maximal maintained, 184; reducing, 7, 13; removal (see reducing); reproducing (see reproduction); structural, 50; tackling (see reducing inequality) inescapability. See escape intelligence, 37, 41, 68, 71, 81, 82, 95, 178, 200, 217, 222, 226, 227, 238, 242, 243, 247; intelligent, 39, 40, 43, 59, 94, 199, 208, 223, 229 intelligent. See intelligence intimacy. See communication

J James, W., 47, 48 justification, 23, 163, 168, 169, 182, 185; of parents behavior, 84; mechanism of, 228

K King, 50 Kingston, P.W., 14, 50, 240, 241 Kochuyt, T., 31, 32, 33 Kösters, L.,9 Krijnen, H.,31, 36, 37

L Laclau, A., 49 Leathwood, C., 36, 38, 39 Lee Linkon, S., 33, 41 Leste Law, C., 1, 14, 31, 39, 248 Levine, C., 11, 45, 58, 60, 61, 238, 241, 252 lifestyle, class, 15, 49, 124, 138, 172, 173, 185, 220, 225, 226, 230, 241, 243, 246; academic, 108, 112, 115, 117, 230; catholic, 71; higher classes, 184, 185, 204, 226, 234, 236; individualized, 11, 246; intellectual, 190, 194; working-class, 11, 68, 74, 224 loan, study. See grants loyal. See loyalty loyalty, 2, 4, 28, 37, 42, 43, 59, 61, 84, 123, 166, 199; class, 231, 234; confl ict, 30, 52, 58, 105; disloyalty, 30, 198, 228; loyal, 1, 198, 200; paradoxical, 248; self, 196

Index Lubrano, F., 1, 14, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 41, 44, 56, 61, 242

M Marcia, J.E., 58 marginal, 30, 43, 57, 247; marginality, 55, 155; marginalization, 163, 236, 238; marginalize, 12, 163, 180, 205, 210; phenomenon, 193; poor (see poverty); poverty, 16, 34, 41, 42, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 105, 154, 213, 224, 236; stigmatization, 66, 67, 120, 156, 164, 172, 226, 233 Marxism, 49, 62 Matthijssen, M.A.J.M., 7, 8, 15 May, S.,22 Mead, G.H., 45, 47, 48, 252 meaning, 6, 9, 15, 16, 24, 126; acquisition of, 16, 26, 203, 239; agents of, 47; and societal context, 46–46, 53, 59, 62, 147, 164, 188, 195, 196; ascribed, 22, 25, 194; attaching, 15, 21, 24, 32, 43, 49, 122, 147, 159, 209, 213; construction of, 15, 16, 22, 26; hidden, 27; level of, 104; many-faced, 194; manylayered, 69; meaningful events, 104–107; meaningful others, 100–103; mythical, 71, 206; of child rearing practices, 74, 196; of class background, 15, 46, 50, 65, 72, 154, 165, 193, 213; of individual actions, 164, 195; of manual work, 73; system of, 21, 22, 47, 246; versus interpretation, 21, 22, 27 Meeus, W., 58 meritocracy, 7, 8, 12 miscommunication. See communication mobility, (upward) social, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 25, 27, 47, 51, 57, 62, 69, 239; and reproduction, 32; and (personal) crisis, 2, 36; and cultural integration, 12, 248; and defense mechanisms, 40, 57; and social difference, 54; and education 234, 239; and immigrants, 12; and intelligence, 40, 95; and loyalty, 42; and marriage, 188–189, 233; and mothers, 68, 69; and social

271

emancipation, 9; and social justice, 7; and social status, 208; and solitude, 106; discontinuous, 31; gender and, 38; intergenerational, 9, 193, 32; social beliefs as a by-product of, 40; tolerated limits of, 73 modesty, 201–202 money, 79, 86; ambiguous meaning of, 186, 215; earning, 98, 128, 214, 244; fast, 244; old, 185; power of, 175, 177, 186, 216; retribution of, 142; symbolic meaning of, 175, 185; women’s study as a waste of, 79 Mouffe, C., 49 Mumby, D.K., 22 mystification, 12

N narrative, 27, 31; biographical (see biography); family, 71; life as a, 22, 23; mythical meaning of, 71; retrospective, 21; tradition, 95, 248 network, social, 10, 29, 34, 35, 37, 50, 60, 61, 62, 115, 152, 153, 154, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 173, 176, 179, 194, 205, 226, 229, 231, 232, 234, 237, 240, 242, 245; consciousness, 176; informal, 245; intrigues, 155; familiar, 165, 172; old-boys, 102, 115, 174, 236; personal, 137 noncommittal. See identification

O Otten, F., 9

P Pakulski, J.,49, 251, 252 Parsons, T.,49 Passeron, J.C., 7, 14, 49, 50 perseverance. See identity Phillips, D., 36 poor. See marginal poverty. See marginal pragmatism; sociological, 47–48, 53, 62; symbolic, 67, 70, 147 Pratt, S.D., 36, 38 Profession. See professional professional, 9, 17, 20, 34, 36, 50, 102, 108, 125, 157, 159, 160,

272

Index 163, 173, 179, 194, 203, 213, 231, 246; accomplishment, 176, 178, 180, 187, 197, 210, 230, 245; action, 187, 213, 245; advancement, 224; ambition. (see ambition); approach, 204, 213, 216; aspects, 245; attitude, 30; autonomy, 237; behavior, 245; capacity (see qualifications); challenges, 231; circles (see context); content, 187, 244, 245; context, 142, 176, 186, 187, 231, 236, 241, 245, 246; criteria (see standards); development, 6, 9, 197, 198, 246, 247; distance, 122, 152, 158; effort (see accomplishment); ethos (see standards); expertise, 151; from the sidelines (see professionalism); goals, 136; growth (see development); identity (see identity); knowledge, 37, 38, 187, 243; legitimization, 198; level (see position); matters, 157; middle-class, 194; milieu (see context); mind-set, 71; motivation, 34, 212, 227; network, 60; norms (see standards); of the parents, 9, 17; performance (see accomplishment); position, 3, 6, 9, 34, 35, 91, 154, 194, 199, 242, 242; profession, 3, 18, 17, 35, 37, 79, 80, 90, 95, 108, 109, 110, 124, 126, 176, 187, 193, 222, 244; professionalism, 15, 131, 135, 139, 143, 151, 152, 155, 156, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 174, 179, 181, 199, 201, 213, 216, 231, 232, 237; profi le (see position); qualifications, 1, 128, 222, 229, 232, 235, 237, 242; quality, 210, 211, 219, 238; relation to management, 129, 137, 143–152, 162, 216, 231–232, 237; repertoire, 245; requirements (see standards); rules (see standards); setting (see context); skills (see qualification); standards, 175, 176, 180, 204, 224, 229, 236, 237, 240; status (see position); success (see accomplishment); technical, 5; territory, 186; transition, 61; unprofessional, 104; values (see

standards); view (see approach); work field (see context) Professionalism. See professional

Q qualitative research, 15–21; analysis, 17, 25, 26, 27; coding, 28; collecting data, 15–16; controllability (see validity); going native,26; hermeneutics, 26; in depthinterviews, 16; interpretation, 21, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27; methodology, 21–28; methods, 15–21; quality, 27; reliability, 27; selection of respondents, 20; transcribing interviews, 16, 28; validity, 27

R rationalization, See identity Reay, D., 31, 36, 38, 39, 252 reproduce. See reproduction reproduction, 7, 15, 31, 50; mechanism of, 12; of distinction, 50; of hierarchical relations, 50; of institutional forms, 51; of social differentiation, 165; of social inequality, 8, 51; of social relationships, 51, 56; reproduce, 8, 12, 14, 186; reproductive character of social mobility, 32; societal, 49; theory, 7, 14; thesis (see theory) restructure. See structure rites of passage, 59 Ross, A., 244 Ryan, J.,1, 14, 31, 32, 38, 41, 198, 248

S Sackrey, C., 1, 14, 31, 32, 38, 41, 198, 248 scholarship. See grants Scotson, J.I., 12 self. See identity self-awareness. See identity self-identification. See identity seminary, 2, 4, 70, 71, 105, 106, 107, 112, 113, 120, 133, 134, 182, 184, 209, 220, 226; ex-seminary students, 115 Sennett, R.,30, 32, 38 sense-making, 9, 15, 21–22; and interpretation, 22 Sköldberg, K., 26, 27 Snarey, J.R.,31, 40, 41, 57

Index snobbism, labor-class, 36 social groups. See society Social Identity Theory. See identification socialization: 42, 44, 45, 46, 48, 49, 53, 114, 150, 181, 187, 236 societal positions. See society society, 30, 60, 61, 62, 114, 136, 142, 146, 235, 247; de-individualization, 235; individualization, 10, 14, 25, 45, 57, 58–59, 61, 172, 209, 215, 235, 240, 242, 252; Individualizing (see individualization); integration into, 13; relation individual society, 45, 47, 48, 55, 62; social groups, 6, 30, 38; social position, 32; survival in, 59; view of, 180 sociology, 45, 47, 62, 109, 112, 113, 119, 128, 158, 207, 217; of education, 8, 46 stigmatization. See marginal Strauss, A.L.,26 structural, 10; antecedents, 51, 64; boundaries (see structural limitations); concepts, 58; context, 43, 51, 57; determination, 45; differences, 34; framework, 62; functionalism, 49; inequality (see inequality); influences, 46; limitations, 58, 63, 232, 241; obstacles, 40, 41, 47; position (see social condition); prerequisites, 46; pressure, 50; reductionism, 50, 62; restraints (see structural limitations); social condition, 20, 142; structuralism, 49; structuralist approach (see structuralism); terms, 46 structuralism. See structural structure, 23, 26, 31, 32, 42, 44, 45, 50, 51, 55, 57, 62, 174, 190, 194, 219; authoritarian, 51, 115; bureaucratic, 135; class, 12, 50, 51, 61; coding, 28; contextual (see class structure); deeper, 24; duality of, 50–51; hidden, 27; institutional, 150, 154; language, 24; personality, 12, 49; power, 7; restructure, 42; social (see class structure) subject, 10, 15, 26, 43, 44, 47, 51, 53, 55, 56–57, 62, 63, 65, 195,

273

196, 222, 241, 245; autonomy, 25, 49, 53, 56, 57, 62, 143, 215, 239, 241; perspective, 24, 32, 187; subjectivity, 14, 25, 32, 45, 54, 58; subjective, 10, 14, 22, 32, 54, 57, 62, 126, 164, 239, 240, 241, 246, 248 subjection, 13, 51, 90, 180, 229, 239 subjective. See subject Swidler, A., 173 syndrome, imposter, 38, 42, 198, 204

T Tajfel, H., 51, 52 Tierney, W.G., 22, 23, 24, 25, 42 Tokarczyk, M.M., 1, 15, 31, 32, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 41 Treiman, D.J., 251 Turner, J., 45, 52, 53, 183

U Ultee, W.C.,9, 239 unemployment, 20, 66, 122, 123, 136, 143, 230, 236 university, 96; academic culture, 178–180; access to, 31, 107, 125, 239; as status symbol,206; career, 231; degree (see graduate); education, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 19, 20, 70, 71, 72, 83, 107, 193, 230, 232, 233, 234, 244; graduate, 1, 16, 20, 25, 30, 37, 39, 163, 240; handwork, 129, 206; hierarchy, 181; inaccessibility, 110, 112; job, 2, 18; mythical meaning of, 5, 206, 208, 247; student subculture, 115, 116; study (see university education)

V Vaillant, G.E., 31, 40, 41, 57 Van Schaardenburg, L., 31, 32 Van Wijk, E., 52, 53, 63 Vandekerckhove, L., 3, 4, 5, 14, 25, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 221, 232 Verhoeven, J.,31, 32, 33 Vervoort, C.E., 7 voluntarism, 51, 61

W Waters, M., 49, 251, 252

274

Index

Weick, K.E., 21, 22 Wesselingh, A.A., 3 Western, M., 49, 252 Whyte, W.,48, 49 Wieërs, J.L., 7, 8 Wilbrink, B., 8, 251

Willis, P., 11, 12, 13, 33, 51, 57, 61, 173, 251 Wrong, D., 49

Z Zandy, J., 31, 38