(Steve Fenton, Harriet Bradley (Eds.) ) Ethnicity A PDF

Ethnicity and Economy
‘Race and Class’ Revisited
Edited by
Steve Fenton and Harriet Bradley
‘Race and Class’ Revisited
Edited by
Steve Fenton
Department of Sociology
University of Bristol
and
Harriet Bradley
Department of Sociology
University of Bristol
Selection and editorial matter, Introduction and Chapter 1
© Steve Fenton and Harriet Bradley, 2002.
Chapters 2–10 © Palgrave Publishers Ltd, 2002.
Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2002 978-0-333-79301-5
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ethnicity and economy: “race and class” revisited/[edited by] Steve Fenton
and Harriet Bradley.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Race relations–Economic aspects. 2. Ethnicity–Economic aspects.

3. Race discrimination–Economic aspects. 4. Social classes. I. Fenton,
Steve, 1942– II. Bradley, Harriet.
HT1531 .E84 2002
305.8–dc21
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04 03 02
For Jenny and Irving
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Contents
Notes on the Contributors ix
Introduction 1
Part I Theoretical Interventions 7
1 Ethnicity, Economy and Class: Towards the Middle Ground 9

2 Race, Ethnicity and Class in Different Political and 31

Intellectual Conjunctures
John Rex
3 Racism, Sexuality and Political Economy: 42

Marxism/Foucault/‘Postmodernism’
Ali Rattansi
4 Gender, Ethnicity and Social Stratification: Rethinking 64

Inequalities
Floya Anthias
5 Muslim Voices: Class, Economic Restructuring and the 80

Formation of Political Identity
Pandeli M. Glavanis
6 Ethnicity and Class as Competing Interpretations: 98

The Socio-economic Mobility of Asian Americans
Deborah Woo
Part II Empirical Explorations 119
7 The Ugandan Asians in Sweden – Twenty-five Years after 121

the Expulsion
Charles Westin
vii
viii Contents
8 Social Exclusion and Young Turkish-speaking People’s 142

Future Prospects: Economic Deprivation and the
Culturalization of Ethnicity
Pinar Enneli
9 Migrant Workers in the Construction Industry: 160

The Experience of Tunisians in Modena
Faycel Daly
10 ‘Not Just Lucky White Heather and Clothes Pegs’: 183

Putting European Gypsy and Traveller Economic
Niches in Context
Colin Clark
Bibliography 199
Index 219
Notes on the Contributors
Floya Anthias is Professor of Sociology and Head of Sociology at the

University of Greenwich. She has published extensively in the areas of
gender, ethnicity and class, and also in the area of migration. She has
recently completed research on identity and exclusion amongst young-
sters from Cypriot and South Asian backgrounds, as well as on self-
employment practices and citizenship policies with regard to minorities
and women in the United Kingdom.
Harriet Bradley is Professor of Sociology at the University of Bristol,

having previously worked at the Universities of Durham and
Sunderland. Her publications include Fractured Identities, Gender and
Power in the Workplace and Myths at Work (with Mark Erickson, Carol
Stephenson and Steve Williams). Her research interests include
women’s employment, trade unions and social inequalities. Currently,
she is working with Steve Fenton and other colleagues on a study of
young adults’ labour market trajectories in Bristol, and with Geraldine
Healy on ethnic minority women in trade unions.
Colin Clark is Lecturer in Sociology and Social Policy at the University of

Newcastle upon Tyne. As well as teaching Romani Studies, he has con-
ducted research and writes about the contemporary situation of Gypsies
and other Travellers in the UK and Europe. He is a member of the Gypsy
Council for Education, Culture, Welfare and Civil Rights and author
(with Donald Kenrick) of Moving On: the Gypsies and Travellers of Britain.
Faycel Daly is employed at the Institut Supérieur des Études

Technologiques, in Gafsa, Tunisia. He has written extensively on
Italian migration with particular focus on Tunisian migrants. His publi-
cations include The Double Passage: Tunisian Migration to the South and
North of Italy; The Impact of Trade Union Education and Training in Health
and Safety on the Workplace Activity of Health and Safety Representatives;
and Economic Migration and Social Exclusion: The Case of Tunisians in
Italy in the 1980s and 1990s.
Pinar Enneli gained a PhD in Sociology from Bristol University in 2001.

She has presented a number of papers at various international confer-
ences. Her general interests are ethnic minorities, with specific reference
ix
x Notes on the Contributors
to the Turkish-speaking communities in Europe; and second-generation

young people’s economic and social integration/segregation/exclusion.
She is currently working on a project involving Turkish-speaking and
Bangladeshi young people’s transition to adulthood in London.
Steve Fenton is Professor in Sociology at the University of Bristol. He

graduated in sociology and law at Hull University before completing
his PhD at Duke University, North Carolina and taking up a post at
Bristol. He is the author of Durkheim and Modern Sociology and Ethnicity:
Social Structure, Culture, Identity; and joint editor (with Rohit Barot and
Harriet Bradley) of Ethnicity, Gender and Social Change. He has
researched and published extensively on ethnicity, health and illness,
and is currently a co-researcher with Harriet Bradley on a study of
young adults’ labour market trajectories in Bristol.
Pandeli M. Glavanis is Professor and Deputy Dean in the Faculty of

Social Sciences at the University of Northumbria. His current research
is focused on globalization and the politics of the European Union,
and the effects of structural adjustment with regard to the prospects for
governance in developing societies. He is also directing a European-
funded project on The Experience of Racism in the New Europe, which is
being carried out in five European states, and completing a manuscript
from a European-funded project (in eight European countries) entitled
Muslim Voices in the New Europe. Recent publications include Patterns of
Social Inequality (edited with Hugh Beynon) and Adjustment, Civil
Society and the State: A Comparative Debate (edited with Paulo Ortez).
Ali Rattansi is Professor of Sociology at City University, London.

Amongst his books are Marx and the Division of Labour; Postmodernism and
Society; ‘Race’, Culture and Difference; and Racism, Modernity and Identity.
John Rex is Professor Emeritus at Warwick University. He is the author

of numerous books and articles on sociological theory and on migra-
tion, race relations and ethnicity. Since his arrival in England from
South Africa in 1949, he has played a major part in developing the
study of race relations and ethnicity in Britain.
Charles Westin is Professor of Migration and Ethnicity Studies at

Stockholm University and Director of the Centre for Research in
International Migration and Ethnic Relations. He has recently co-
edited (with Kjell Goldman and Ulf Hannerz) Nationalism and
Internationalism in the Post-Cold War Era.
Notes on the Contributors xi
Deborah Woo is a Professor in the Community Studies Department at

the University of California, Santa Cruz. As a sociologist, she has been
concerned with how the claim to ‘institutional objectivity’ can divert
attention away from attitudinal and procedural biases. Her book Glass
Ceilings and Asian Americans: the New Face of Workplace Barriers exam-
ines the artificial barriers facing scientists and engineers in a high-tech
government organization.
Introduction
One of the most notable features of social science research in the 1980s
and 1990s has been the increased interest in the study of ethnicity, in
terms of both empirical research and theoretical debate. Such work has
reflected an increasing awareness of the multiplicity of ethnicities and
the complexity of ethnic identification.
There are many reasons for this development, which reflects key
changes in global political and economic relationships. The break-up
of the Soviet Union brought to our notice new or transforming ethnic
conflicts in many Eastern and Asian societies, while an increasingly
global economy has produced new patterns of migration and altered
the flow of peoples between the more and less developed nations.
In the Western societies ethnic hierarchies are also changing as
economies transform, with some ethnic minorities benefiting from
opportunities for upward mobility while others suffer from heightened
exclusion and marginalization. New ethnic patterns of ‘winning and
losing’ may be the result (Wrench and Modood 2001).
There were also intellectual reasons for the increased interest in
ethnicity, at least in British sociology. The study of class became
unfashionable and the collapse of the Soviet bloc was seen as invalidat-
ing the Marxist project. Some approaches to gender and ethnicity
established themselves within the framework of class analysis; others
increasingly departed from or disavowed this framework altogether.
Second, the ‘cultural turn’ in sociology promoted new interests in the
analysis of culture, religion, lifestyles and identity, rather than the
previous preoccupation with material aspects of social difference. For
example, different forms of racism and of political mobilization which
are under study are no longer being linked to issues of class or class
consciousness. Indeed, recent studies of ethnicity are as likely to
1
2 Steve Fenton and Harriet Bradley
display a concern with gender issues as with class. The flight from class
has gone far enough to make some students and researchers not only
unenthused, but even embarrassed by it.
At the University of Bristol a series of biennial conferences explored
these developments and focused on different aspects of ethnicity. One
conference, held in 1997, was entitled Economy, Ethnicity and Social
Change. A major concern was to restore a proper balance in terms of
the relative importance of economic and cultural issues. Some of us at
Bristol felt there was a growing need to revisit economic aspects of
ethnic difference and in particular to explore again the relationship
between the economy, ethnicity and the class structure, while still
accepting the importance of culture, meaning and identity.
Some of the chapters presented in this volume are developed from
papers presented at that conference; others are contributed by scholars
in the field of ethnicity. The contributors reflect upon past approaches
to the study of ‘race and class’, their strengths and limitations, and
offer ideas about how to rethink the economic context of ethnic
relations and the relationship between ethnicity and class. They are,
however, sensitive to the significance of cultural aspects of ethnicity as
well as material aspects. The aim is to seek out the ‘middle ground’ in
two senses: in looking for a balance of materialist and culturalist
understanding; and in neither assuming that class analysis is the sole
road to truth, nor in attempting to think class out of existence.
Rethinking ethnicity and class: the middle ground
Most sociologists would now argue that a theory of racism and of ethnic
identities cannot be reduced to the theory of class, class formation and
class-situated forms of political and social consciousness. It is, however,
important to acknowledge that a ‘class’ orientation has informed the
theorization of racism and ethnicity at several key junctures. Significant
changes in the economy give rise to social, cultural and institutional
changes which are a fundamental part of the agenda of a broad socio-
logical imagination. Within a Marxist frame of reference these social,
cultural and institutional orderings of societies can be seen as ‘ulti-
mately’ traceable to an economic substrate; or it may be conceded, as
revisionist Marxists have argued, that they have a certain ‘autonomy’.
In a non-Marxist frame this autonomy of the social and cultural order is
readily accepted or taken for granted. At the same time, it is important
to consider the interconnectedness of the economic and the socio-
cultural without seeing one as reducible to the other. In practice, these
Introduction 3
differences of theoretical stance, often seen as fundamentally divergent

points of departure, may matter less than has sometimes been imagined,
especially when undertaking empirical research.
Between two extremes – a Marxist political economy which remains
true to its 150-year-old roots, and a ‘culturalist’ sociological frame
which seemingly abandons the material in favour of the symbolic –
there is a central terrain, a ‘middle ground’, which both acknowledges
the importance of economic formations which are in part socio-cultur-
ally apprehended, and recognizes the sui generis status of the socio-
cultural order, without abandoning an interest in the material order.
The sociology of ethnicity and racism, and of gender, has provided key
contexts within which the methodological, empirical and theoretical
exploration of this middle ground has taken place. Many examples
could be given; just a few will illustrate the point.
It is clear that racism, as a form of inchoate social consciousness and
of relatively systematic political ideology, has both narrowly ‘class’ and
more broadly economic coordinates. As Balibar and Wallerstein (1991)
have argued, there is a kind of tug-of-war in capitalism between univer-
salism and particularism – with racism and sexism being seen as forms
of particularism. The tendency towards universalism in capitalism is
expressed as the wish or need to treat all alike – as labour, as customers
and as interchangeable units in an economic system. Particularism
may be seen as the impetus to treat people differently, casting some as
super-exploited, cheaper labour or as unwanted labour. This difference
is then frequently expressed as natural difference between black and
white, and between men and women. Similarly there are, in specific
phases of economic change, winners and losers, and losers frequently
perceive their loss not merely as economic but also as social and sym-
bolic. Thus the politics of redistribution cannot be simply disentangled
from the politics of recognition. Such a sense of loss (both material and
symbolic) among people described by Wieviorka (1994a) as exhibiting
the mentality of the ‘poor white’ is readily translated into racism, not
in a simple and mechanical way, but with enough repetition and
pattern to indicate a tendency reproduced in a number of different
societal contexts. In related fashion, the sense of nostalgia for a world
we have lost may be politically converted into a racism or nationalism
which constructs an included ‘we’, and simultaneously constructs the
‘other’ as a threat and as unwanted. Much of the politics which is anti-
European Union and anti-immigrant takes this form.
It is also evident that in many societies there are significant inter-
sections of class and ethnic structures and of class and ethnic identities.
These intersections rarely constitute a perfect match – although the ‘New

World’ fusion of the slave condition and African origin approximated this
for a time – but none the less form complex but visible clusters and
concentrations, either in fact or in the social imagination, or in both. The
identification of Chinese Malaysians with business enterprise is one such.
On a smaller scale in Britain there is a close identification of Bangladeshis
and Chinese with the restaurant and catering trades. In all such cases
there are both ‘purely’ economic and sociocultural tendencies at work;
the way in which the growth of super- and hyper-markets undermines
the business viability of the small shopkeeper is no respecter of persons.
On the other hand, there are ethnic, familial and cultural reasons which
account in part for the success of particular groups within the small entre-
preneurial economy. For this reason the study of ethnicity and business
enterprise has constituted a singularly fruitful and interesting sphere of
sociological enquiry. At the same time the attempts by successive genera-
tions, within ethnically defined groups, to break with traditions of the
family business promote changes in the ethnic communities themselves,
not least within the sphere of gender relations.
This example illustrates the way particular ethnic groups come to
predominate in particular niches in a market economy. From such
grounded examples, we can begin to develop an account of how rela-
tions of class, ethnicity and gender contribute to the formation of
specific hierarchies both within national economies and in the global
division of labour, along with an understanding of the way racism and
sexism inform the development of those hierarchies. This is a key aim
of our book, which contributes to the expanding exploration of ethnic-
ity in a global context. We aim to further the reconceptualizing of the
relationship between ethnicity and class, from the stance of the
‘middle ground’, where the realities of class and ethnicity are not lost
in the super-abstractions of ungrounded theory.
Theory and research: the structure of the book
The first six chapters are primarily theoretical or analytical, in the sense
that they explore how the intersection of ethnicity and economy can
be addressed. They speculate but they are not merely speculative. The
chapters locate their discussion in relation to particular contexts, issues
or debates. The various authors avoid the abstraction of some recent
sociological theorizing by backing conceptual arguments with concrete
examples and emphasizing the specificity of intersections of ethnicity
while pointing to some general guidelines for analysis.
Introduction 5
In chapter 1 we, the editors, set out a rationale and framework for
rethinking the relationship between ethnicity and class. We develop
an account to help explain the different patterns of the formation
and mobilization of ethnic identities within economic structures. In
chapters 2–3, John Rex and Ali Rattansi respectively revisit in more
detail the ‘race and class’ debate. Rex draws on the case of South Africa
to explore changing perspectives, and concludes that such theories
need to be context-specific. Rattansi dissects Sivanandan’s classic
article ‘Race, Class and the State: the Black Experience in Britain’
(1976) as a prime example of the ‘race and class’ problematic, high-
lighting its limitations, and then proposes a ‘postmodern framing’ of
the class/ ethnicity relationship. In chapter 4 Floya Anthias explores
many of the intricacies of the intersection of gender with ethnicity and
class. Whilst stressing the constructed and contingent nature of social
difference, she proposes some general principles of analysis which set
out to unify disparate strands in the study of all three. Pandeli Glavanis
in chapter 5 deals specifically with globalization and its effects in terms
of the marginalization of some ethnic groups and inclusion of others,
focusing particularly on the political and social identities of Muslim
groups in Europe. In chapter 6, Deborah Woo critically explores the
dominant cultural explanations for the success of some Asian groups in
the United States and points to the importance of economic factors in
explaining the ‘Asian miracle’. This proves to be a site for a grounded
theorization of culture and economy.
Part II consists of four chapters which present extended case studies
illustrating concretely some of the issues discussed in Part I. Charles
Westin addresses the theme of Asian success and social mobility in
relation to the evolving position of migrants expelled from East Africa
within the Swedish economy. Like Woo, he points to the importance
of class origins in accounting for the differential success of particular
ethnic groups. In chapter 8 Pinar Enneli deals with a less studied
minority group, Turkish-speaking people in London. Her research
explores the position of different Turkish-speaking groups and the
forces that trap some of them within a narrowly defined sphere of
opportunities. Chapter 9 presents findings from Faycel Daly’s fieldwork
among Tunisian migrant workers in Modena. He explores the econ-
omic and cultural factors which contribute to their disadvantaged posi-
tion in the construction industry and argues that they constitute an
emerging ‘underclass’. Finally, in chapter 10, Colin Clark considers the
particular economic niches occupied by Gypsy minorities in Britain,
and explores the way that Romanies utilize majority perceptions of
Gypsies and exploit aspects of their ethnic identity for economic

advantage. In these four case studies economic structures, ethnic
identities and the fates of particular groups are analysed in very specific
contexts.
There is within sociology and in the popular imagination a ‘discourse
of race’ and a ‘discourse of ethnicity’ (Fenton 1999). However, we have
not sought to impose a uniform terminology on the contributors. In any
case these discourses are situated in particular places and traditions.
American sociologists no doubt appreciate precisely the sense in which
the concept of race is discredited; but they live in a society where the
discourse of race is extremely powerful. At the same time, whilst the
discourses of ‘race’ and ‘ethnicity’ cover much the same ground, there
are unquestionably important differences of emphasis and tone. More
difficult to understand is the widespread retreat from class analysis. If
earlier theorizing, particularly in Europe, sought to frame the analysis of
ethnicity primarily in class terms, contemporary interests, seeing ethnic-
ity as primarily cultural, concerned with identity and with the drawing
of social and symbolic boundaries, have run determinedly in the oppo-
site direction. In looking for ways forward in the analysis of class and
ethnicity, this volume seeks to restore some balance.

University of Bristol 2002
Part I
Theoretical Interventions
1
Ethnicity, Economy and Class:
Towards the Middle Ground
Introduction
In the past three decades a remarkable shift has occurred, even an inver-
sion, within the sociological agenda. In the 1970s no self-respecting
British sociologist could ignore the concept of class: class analysis was a
major concern, if not the key concern of British empirical sociology. At
this time the sociology of ‘race relations’, as it was characteristically
called, was a relatively marginal sociological specialism; and even within
that specialism much theoretical work was devoted to the relation
between ‘race and class’. As Ali Rattansi’s dissection of the neo-Marxist
position in chapter 3 of this volume shows, among Marxists there was a
tendency to reduce race to a ‘subset’ of class, even to see it as an obfusca-
tion of ‘real’ class relations; or at the least, to see class as ‘determinant in
the last instance’. While the leading neo-Weberian, John Rex, who revis-
its some of his earlier work in chapter 2, outlined the specificity of a ‘race
relations situation’ (Rex 1970), his framing of ‘race relations’ was princip-
ally in relation to class contexts and social and political power. The task
of breaking free of this modernist preoccupation with class as the central
dimension of social differentiation was all the harder because of the
strength and sophistication of the classical models of the accounts of
class and social divisions offered by Marx and Weber.
But thirty years on there have been dramatic changes. Class has
vacated the centre-stage, written out of the scripts of poststructuralism,
postmodernism and the ‘turn to culture’. Not yet actually dead
(Pakulski and Waters 1996), it lurks in the wings hoping for a come-
back, its afficionados mounting spirited defences of its continued rele-
vance (for example, Goldthorpe and Marshall 1992; Marshall 1997;
Bradley et al. 2000). But it is certainly of diminishing interest to many
9
in the profession and it would be quite possible in 2002 to take an

undergraduate degree in sociology without learning anything about
class theory. By contrast, there has been a boom in the study of ethnicity
(the term now commonly favoured over ‘race’). A wealth of books, new
journals, postgraduate and undergraduate courses, and dissertations are
devoted to aspects of ethnicity, these in turn reflecting the newer
angles favoured by the cultural turn: identities, cultural representa-
tions, ethno-nationalism, imperial and postcolonial cultures, the poli-
tics of racism, citizenship and multiculturalism. This academic boom
has been encouraged by public debates about national identity in
Britain and other European states, debates which are allied to the poli-
tics of minorities, and of immigration and racism. At the same time,
equal opportunities and multicultural solutions are both proposed and
bitterly opposed. Academically, it is fostered by a fragmentation of the
sociological agenda in which no particular theories, topics or issues can
claim pride of place.
We here commend a new balance, a reintegration of the study of the
economic and the cultural, class and ethnicity and the linkage between
them. In advocating such a reintegration, we are not calling for a
return to the old ‘race and class’ frameworks. We are aware of the limit-
ations of the older theoretical perspectives; with hindsight many such
modernist frameworks appear too monolithic, inflexible, exclusionary
and thus unable to deal adequately with the complexities and multi-
plicity of ‘the social’.1 Moreover, most of the older perspectives are
vitiated by their connections with evolutionary theories of social
development and ‘progress’, now viewed with suspicion following the
postmodern deconstructions of nineteenth-century scientistic thought
(Foucault 1972; Lyotard 1984). We have highlighted these limitations
in our earlier work (Barot, Bradley and Fenton 1999; Bradley and
Fenton 1999).
Nor do we accept uncritically the whole package of ‘post’-thinking,
although we acknowledge its commendable stress on the variability
and fluidity of social relations and its insistence on the multidimen-
sional nature of social difference. However, as we have previously
argued (Bradley and Fenton 1999), we are concerned by postmodernist
theorists’ overemphasis on culture and choice and their neglect of the
economic dimension, of material constraints and disparities of power.
There is a great deal of fruitless abstraction in much postmodern work;
insightful sociological analysis needs to be grounded within specific
contexts and propelled by a sufficient measure of empirical curiosity.
We argue for a ‘middle ground’ in which social phenomena such as
Ethnicity, Economy and Class 11
ethnicity and class are seen as possessing both economic and cultural
aspects. While wary of any modernist accounts which impute an
unwarranted fixity to relations of difference (ethnicity, class, gender or
sexuality), we also want to highlight the persistence and relative temporal
stability of these relationships, distancing ourselves from any idea of
social identities as detached and free-floating.
Our exploration of the ‘middle ground’ starts with a general discussion
around concepts of economy and culture and the interconnections
between them. Here we stress that both class and ethnicity have econ-
omic and cultural (meaningful) aspects (Aronowitz and DiFazio 1994). In
the latter sections of this chapter we move to a more specific account of
the relations between ethnicity and class in contemporary societies. Like
Rex in chapter 2, we reject the possibility of a general theory of class,
ethnicity and racism that could explain their manifestations in any place
or epoch. The relationship between different axes of social differentia-
tion must be considered to be variable and context-specific. None the
less, we do seek to establish some sociological guidelines – typologies and
concepts – for an understanding of class and ethnicity and their place in
the divisions and hierarchies of contemporary economies.
Ethnicity, economy and culture: social structure and social

action
We start by considering formulations of economy and culture before

relating them to ethnicity. The question of the articulation of ethnicity
and economy can be understood only in part as a specific instance of
the articulation of culture and economy; the question of culture and
economy is a considerably wider one than that of ethnicity and
economy. And whilst ethnicity has a clear link to culture, the concept
of ethnicity cannot be equated with the concept of culture. To put it
more starkly, ethnic groups cannot be simply considered as cultural
groups or ‘culture communities’. The wider question of ‘culture and
economy’ – since it has such well-known antecedents – must, however,
be considered first. It constitutes the point of departure for the more
specific question of ethnicity and economic activity or economic
‘processes’.
We will address ‘culture and economy’ by identifying four strands of
social thought – Marxist, Weberian, postmodernist and anthropologi-
cal – although we do not promise to give all equal weight. Marxist
thought may be seen as incorporating, within its dominantly material-
ist methodology, a central paradigm of base and superstructure. In this
paradigm, ideas and ‘culture’ were viewed as products, as superstructural

phenomena whose emergence, nature and type could be traced to the
function they served in justifying a regime of relations of production
and a system of class relations. Cultural and institutional ‘products’
formed a superstructure which could be related to class relations them-
selves – for example, in constituting the ideas of property and the legal
individual, and in forming the apparatus of courts which sustain these
ideas and relations. Or they could be ‘produced’ in the form of more
narrowly defined political ideas which influenced the development of
class-political consciousness. Here we might consider ideas about the
naturalness of market relations which purport to justify the relations of
capital and wage labour or ‘nation’ as a loyalty to compete with class.
Weberian sociology was conducted as a debate with the historicist
methodology and materialist philosophy of Marxism. Forms of class
consciousness which Marx considered ‘inevitable’ were seen by Weber
to be merely ‘possible’, thus building open-endedness into his socio-
logy and his propositions about change. Furthermore, Weber allowed a
much greater play to the meanings of human action, viewed as inde-
pendent factors in the shaping of social outcomes. Thus, in some
important respects, human actors were viewed as individuals facing
choices, and their choices were seen to be guided by certain typical
meanings. These meanings, and the choices that flowed from them,
were ‘patterned’ and so social action need not be regarded as hopelessly
in flux, incapable of being simplified by analytical tools of understand-
ing and explanation, the famously differentiated phases of sociological
study. Thus in Weber’s account, capitalism was an important category
of analysis since it constituted an historically specific set of institu-
tions, an order of social classes and a typical basis for the distribution
of wealth and power. But added to this was a view of capitalism as a
type of modern culture, incorporating within it sets of attitudes to the
past and the future, to work and vocation, to the accumulation of
wealth and the use and enjoyment of it. His thesis about Protestantism
argued that Protestant values and ideas were peculiarly congruent with
capitalist philosophy in the historical phase where capitalism as
modernity came to disrupt and overwhelm traditional modes of action
and thought. Thus Weber’s thought can be commended as grappling
with both economic and cultural aspects of capitalism as a social phenom-
enon (see Weber 1926, 1938).
In the late twentieth century and new millennium one of the most
pre-eminent postures within social thought has been the elaboration of
the argument that all modern or modernist sociologies have made
indefensible assumptions about social determinacy, both substantively

and theoretically. That is, the substantive categories of analysis – class,
state, families, ethnic groups – have been viewed as much less ‘real’,
substantial or fixed and therefore are not seen as being amenable to
rational analysis in the way that predecessor sociologies had believed.
Theoretically, poststructuralism abandoned ‘social structure’ as the
boldest embodiment of the modernist theoretical claims and with it the
notion of sociological determinacy. Ideas of unpredictability, fragility,
shifting identities, interruptions and disruptions tilted at the hubris of
sociology in both its Marxist and non-Marxist analytical modes.
Although modernist and postmodernist frames could scarcely be typified
by a brief and uniform characterization, it is certain that the influence of
postmodernity has been accompanied by a pronounced shift in socio-
logical attention towards the concept of ‘culture’, the so-called cultural
turn in sociology, and indeed in many related disciplines.
This new form of attention has been ‘critical’, both politically and
intellectually, in so far as it stimulates the constant rethinking of both
social and sociological categories. This would in part explain the appeal
of postmodernist frames to students and writers who are critically
engaged with sexuality, gender and ethnicity. At another moment
postmodernity takes on a profoundly conservative character in the
celebration of irrationality, the debunking of planned and sought-for
social change, and the denial of the possibility of, or at the very least a
shift away from, the analytical exposure of social realities, including
the temporal persistence of material inequalities. An alternative view is
to see postmodernity as being absorbed into a new consensus in socio-
logy which allows for the observation of pattern, social change and
reproduction in social life, whilst incorporating the heightened atten-
tion to symbol and meaning, and the assumption of open-ended
agency and relative indeterminacy.
In anthropology the same sorts of intellectual movement can be
observed, a prime difference being that ‘culture’ has always been the
dominant concept in anthropology, and anthropologists have long
been able to claim expert status in the interpretation of meaning and
symbol. Anthropologists also have a long tradition of interrogating the
relationship between observer and observed, both as a moral and as an
intellectual question. They have, as we shall discuss later, a special
place in the history of the concept of ethnic group.
Before considering the import of these tendencies in sociology for the
understanding of ‘ethnic groups’ or ‘ethnicity’ we should essay some
conclusions about where we now stand in relation to the sociological
enterprise. The first step is to acknowledge that the kind of historical

determinacies associated with nineteenth- and twentieth-century socio-
logies – Marxist and non-Marxist – are not now sustainable. The idea
that societies evolve as organisms cannot be supported, not least
because the idea of ‘society’ as the unit of sociological analysis has
rightly come to be seen as problematic. The particular Marxist version
of evolutionary sociology – the historical movement towards a rational
society organized on a socialist model – took a singularly hard blow
from the late twentieth-century collapse of Soviet and East European
regimes. The idea of history being at an end – as if nothing were left to be
contested – may be fanciful, but so too is the idea that history is moving
in response to discernible motors that drive it forward in ways largely
beyond the grasp of human agents. A kind of sociological attention
which gives much greater space to choice, tactics and strategy in human
action has gained in confidence even whilst we should recognize that a
view of social outcomes as ‘simply’ the consequences of actors’ choices is
naïve. In particular, we reject the idea that it is not possible to detect the
contours of ‘structuration’ in social systems, which form contexts of
action which individuals do not choose, even if they do choose how to
act in these contexts.
If one accepts the idea – as we do – that the specification of pattern
and of structured context remains an essential element of the sociological
imagination, and we accept that these structured contexts are not
simply material or ideal but are simultaneously material and ideal, then
we should take a few steps in identifying how these contexts are con-
stituted. In doing so, we will continue to draw upon some modernist
concepts informed by Marxist and non-Marxist sociology which we
believe cannot be abandoned.
Modernism’s legacy: social class, globalization and

individualism
Despite the continued speculation about its demise, social class is

certain to remain a key element of the sociological imagination for
three overwhelmingly important reasons. The first is that whilst classes
change so that a distinction between proletarian and bourgeois per se
becomes less compelling, at the same time property, wealth, class-
based power and the class determination of life-chances remain
evident wherever we choose to look (in, for example, studies of class
and health or class origins and social mobility). Thus it seems that only
whim or the movement of sociological fashion could cause us to look
resolutely elsewhere or imagine that, somehow, class societies had

disappeared. Any consideration of modern Britain, for example, would
have to account for class change both in the shape of the replacement
of traditional forms of proletarian work with new forms of employ-
ment and the increasingly important role of the socially excluded
underclass.
Second, the movement away from a social order based on class strug-
gle as understood in Marxist and neo-Marxist theory has in no way
undermined the powerful salience of class cultures. In the celebration
of the concept of culture, the notion of class culture must continue to
take ground close to the centre. This does not mean that old class
cultures simply persist or that class in its sense closer to Weber’s status
groups continues to underpin the status order. Both of these may be
partly true. But studying class culture more roundly means attuning
ourselves to those nuances of social sensibility, of meaning and habits
of thought which are rooted in the first instance in experiences and
expectations which can properly be called class-based. Such meanings
and habits are crucial in maintaining the structures of class disadvan-
tage; for example, in hampering young working-class men and women
from attaining the university education which has become a ‘normal
expectation’ for their middle-class compeers.2 Equally, those who have
acquired the right kind of cultural capital draw on it throughout their
lives to solidify their class advantages.
Third, a great deal of post-Marxist sociology has eschewed class
understanding because class is seen to have obscured or pre-empted
proper discussion of ethnicity and gender. This is entirely the wrong
emphasis. The difficult – but necessary – part is how, in a post-Marxist
mood, the social observer can reconcile and blend the understanding
of class experience and class cultures with the intersecting experience
and cultures of gender and ethnicity. Such an endeavour is the correct
way to develop a proper understanding of the processes of social differ-
entiation in any given society, and the multiple positioning of individu-
als within these processes (Bradley 2000).
Unlike class, globalization is a favoured concept of both materialists
and postmodernist ‘culturalists’, constituting a set of propositions
about global economic change and new modes of cultural transmission
and reflexivity. We do not propose to assess these claims, respectively
assessed by, for example, Held and McGrew (2000), Featherstone
(1990), Robertson (1992). But we instance ‘globalization’ simply to
signal that, however precisely it is understood, there is widespread
agreement that a contemporary sociology has to understand the
transnational movement of people, ideas, capital and images. ‘Local’

micro-social orders are connected to these global movements in
important ways. National economies are globally shaped and so local
and national political consciousness are shaped by both the material
importance of global events – such as the Asian economic crises – and
globally communicated reflexive awareness of them and cultural repre-
sentations of their effects on our lives.
Furthermore, however much, as a sociological methodology and as a
political faith, Marxism may be pronounced dead, it is through the
understanding of globalization that some of the arguments connected
with Marxism may be seen to have renewed resonance. International
capitalist organizations behave precisely as capital is expected to
behave, that is, in the ruthless pursuit of profit in which ‘national’ or
more pertinently nation-state boundaries are irrelevant or ignored.
Similarly, the movement of labour transnationally, or its alternative,
the endless movement of capital in search of cheap and manageable
labour, is indicative of the tendencies of capitalism on a global scale, as
is the instantaneous transmission of messages and images in the hands
of globally operative corporations, whose motives and resources are
responsible for creating and sending them. What is seen to be a global
magnification of culture, symbol, image and message is typically a
global capitalist magnification of culture tied to consumption. Finally,
just as state systems of regulation reinforce the conditions under which
capitalism works in particular countries, so the new global mechanisms
of control – the International Monetary Fund and World Trade
Organization and related bodies – are the instruments of enforcement
of global capitalism, frequently hardening rather than reversing the
gap between rich and poor countries. Globalization is, in short, part of
a new cultural agenda which is based on consumerism and individual-
ism; but it is also linked to the revival, with some new dimensions, of
earlier agendas of political economy.
Indeed, individualism is the third dimension of the modern world
that we focus on in order to exemplify the benefit of tracing ‘pattern’
and ‘structured contexts’ in the contemporary world, contexts which
constitute a setting within which meanings are elaborated. There is
within Weber a hint of the meaning of individuality in modern culture
when he explicates the way in which Protestantism sets the individual
alone in face of God and bestows on the individual this burden of
responsibility and duty. This individualizing of moral character and the
person was entailed in Protestantism and, as is well known, was seen to
be especially suited to the temper of capitalist work and enterprise. At
the same time the puritan elements of Protestantism enjoined the

careful use of wealth and warned against pleasure and indulgence. As
Weber observed, the motive and ideal forces necessary to foster capital-
ism may not be the same as those needed to sustain it. In late capitalism
the production of goods and services continues to be supremely ra-
tionally organized, but in rich countries at least the success of many
enterprises depends on persuading large numbers of people to spend,
enjoy and ‘fulfil themselves’, a curiously modern consumers’ version of
vocation. As a consequence much of contemporary promotion of goods
and services precisely depends on the inculcation of individualism in
the form of the individual who chooses – or ‘needs’ or has a ‘right to
expect’ – his or her ‘special’ goods, travel and delights of all kinds.
It was, however, Durkheim who made the analysis of individualism
the centrepiece of his sociology. Here we can find a reconciliation of
the progress of individualism as institutional change and as moral and
cultural change. Aware that individualism could be seen as the moral
evil of the age – as ‘excessive individualism’ – he also wanted to show
that the partial detachment of individuals from traditional social
milieux was a necessary accompaniment of modernity and social
differentiation. This social differentiation brought with it an increased
regard for the individual as a social value, a valuation reflected in the
retreat from and abhorrence of violations of the individual person (see
Fenton 1984). A regard for the sacredness of the individual and his or
her right to be protected against arbitrariness becomes part of the
moral culture of modern societies, even if it is frequently breached; and
this is a moral culture which is formed by sociological change, that is a
change in the way in which individuals are related and obligated to
others, and in the moral binding force which makes a highly differen-
tiated and individualized society possible. Thus Durkheim had, in his
sociological imagination if not in fact, reconciled the individualization
characteristic of modernity with the continued need for moral order.
If we put together the two sources of sociological speculation about
‘individualism’, it is possible to catch sight of the edges of a profound
moral and cultural dilemma and contradiction in modernity.
Individuality as a cultural force is partly driven forward by the
significance attached to choice and fulfilment in the consumption of
commodities as both ‘products’ and ‘services’. At the same time,
individualism has two consequences which are disruptive socially and
disturbing at the level of the person. The first is that individualism
frequently does represent, as Durkheim feared, a breaking up of forms
of attachment and obligation which isolate individuals as much as
liberate them. The second is that, for several and different reasons, the
stimulated wishes of the individual cannot always be fulfilled and
almost certainly cannot be a source of self-realization. One of the
reasons is that, as Merton (1968) long ago argued, wants may be created
whilst the means to satisfy those wants and the rules governing their
pursuit, are unevenly distributed or poorly inculcated. Under these
circumstances the pursuit of individual satisfaction becomes a breeding
ground for personal and class- and ethnicity-grounded ressentiment. We
can see this exemplified in the hostility to mainstream ‘white’ society
and the construction of counter values and meanings on the part of
young African Americans and Latinos in the ghettoized areas of North
American cities (Bourgois 1995; Anderson 1999). In addition, the gap
between desire and the distribution of rewards, frequently accompanied
by a diffuse and powerful sense of guilt or moral repulsion, allows for the
revival of politicized ‘fundamentalist’ moralities. These moralities lash
out at the absence of restraint in society at large, the corruption of the
privileged and the politically powerful, and the amorality of the pursuit
of wealth and power. In some Islamic countries and in the Moral Right
of the United States one can see this contradiction of individualism
worked out in the reactionary politics of morality.
Culture and ethnicity: a complex relationship
This, then, is an exemplification of some of the ways in which sociology

has attempted to imagine the relationship of economy and culture; it is
also an attempt to draw out some of these imaginings beyond the
bounds in which they were originally stated. If the ethnicity/economy
intersection is to be explored, it must partake of some of these wider
understandings. The first thing to point out is that culture and ethnic-
ity cannot be wholly equated since, as we suggested, ethnic groups are
not merely ‘culture communities’. The argument that ethnic groups are
not definable by reference to culture is most notably associated with
the anthropologist Barth’s (1969) argument that cultural commonality
was not the hallmark of ethnic identity. Rather, ethnic groups were
constituted by a process of formation and sustaining of social bound-
aries. These defining lines of the limits of membership and exclusion
were the actual way of establishing the existence of ethnic groups,
rather than the ‘cultural stuff’ contained within these boundaries. Ever
since Barth’s well-known essay, sociologists and anthropologists alike
have hesitated to describe ethnic groups as groups marked by cultural
difference. The pendulum against ‘culture’ may have swung too far.
Ethnic identities are commonly asserted by reference to claims about

cultural difference even if these culture claims are problematic. So
whilst the cultural difference asserted by way of boundary mainten-
ance (we are the people who do this, they are the people …) may be
more or less ‘authentic’, none the less culture remains closely asso-
ciated with ideas of ethnicity.
The second reason for placing some distance between ‘culture’ and
‘ethnicity’ is that ethnic group memberships, however lightly or
‘thinly’ sustained, may be marked as much by the associations or
networks which are formed as by the celebration of shared culture. So
ethnic groups may be conceived as ‘networks’ in addition to or rather
than being conceived as culture communities. Third, a persistent
strand in the analysis of ethnicity has been an emphasis on ethnic
identity and political purpose. Thus, under some circumstances, ethnic
identity may appear to be much more a matter of a collective political
goal than a case of cultural commonality. What has been identified as
‘instrumental ethnicity’ has been contrasted with a so-called primor-
dial view of ethnicity, the former being a purposeful or even ‘oppor-
tunistic’ mobilization of ethnic symbols for political purposes, the
latter an ingrained and unreflective sense of community. These three
formulations of ethnicity and culture, as a boundary process, as network
and as instrumental, are integral to an exploration of some typical
intersections of ethnicity and economy.
Intersections of ethnicity and economy: class, globalization

and individualism
There are two principal ways in which class and ethnicity have come
to occupy the same or adjacent social space. The first is the prolonged
occupation of excluded, restricted or segregated social positions by
groups indigenous to, or long resident in, a country or region. The
second is the social re-formation of ethnicities through migration,
frequently as labour migration.
In the first instance – which would include Jews and Romanies
within Europe – ethnic identity is shaped around a sense of shared
ancestry and cultural distinctiveness. But ethnic identity is also
strengthened by the experience of a pariah or excluded minority status
enforced by a majority population. This majority population is respon-
sible for drawing the boundaries of ethnicity – including, for example,
exclusion from key economic and political roles – whether the
‘members’ want it or not. In such cases ethnicity becomes the basis of
occupational specialization, characteristic of both Jews and Romanies,

where both the occupation(s) and the majority ethnic stereotypes
which accompany it – such as the ‘horse trader’ or ‘money lender’ – are
partly taken out of the hands of the minority status group. A central
question, in this instance, of ethnicity and economy, is how minority
groups either manage this occupational specialization to their own
advantage, or escape from it (see Colin Clark’s discussion of the econ-
omic roles of the Roma in chapter 10). Another type of long-resident or
indigenous ethnic group arises from the formation of ethnic identity
around dispossession of land and submerging and suppressing of
culture, especially language. This is a common consequence of colonial
settlement as in the case of the impoverishment and social exclusion of
aboriginal groups by European settlers (for example, the Maori in New
Zealand, Inuit in Canada). In Europe itself the Sami people of northern
Scandinavia are a native people whose economy has been undermined
by modernizing encroachments.
The second context of ethnic identity, the migration of labour and
occupational groups, is to be found in virtually all regions of the earth
– and over very long periods of time. The migration of people now
known as ‘Pontic Greeks’, for example, extended over hundreds of
years during which time peoples from Greece have moved into the
regions surrounding the Black Sea, maintained their Orthodox faith
though not always their speaking of Greek, and made a variety of econ-
omic adaptations to their new environments. Only with the collapse of
the Soviet Empire are substantial numbers of Pontic Greeks seeking
reincorporation into modern Greece. Movements of labour to the ‘New
World’ are also long-standing, but these were quite different in character.
An estimated 10–20 million Africans were traded as slaves mostly from
the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries and in most of the desti-
nations they have remained as black or African minorities.
Other migrations are relatively recent and constitute a typical social-
historical context for the emergence of economically framed ethnic
identities. Such has been the settlement in colonial societies of
imported labouring groups alongside indigenous populations. These
populations are found throughout South East Asia (the Chinese in
Malaysia, Indonesia), the Caribbean (Indians in Trinidad) and the
Pacific (Indians in Fiji). Especially where migrant groups are – or
become – business and trader classes, class and economic activity have
two characteristic links with ethnicity. The first is that ethnicity is a
means for facilitating economic transactions. Where a trader class
shares language and ancestry, the commonality, identity and social
networks become a way of carrying out business. Indeed, the common

trading occupation may itself be a reason for sustaining ethnic ties,
which diminish when group members take up new occupations. The
second economic linkage is that a business class which is ethnically
identifiable can become, and frequently does become, a target for the
economic resentments of others who see themselves as relatively less
favoured. The pogroms against Chinese in Indonesia at the fall of the
Suharto regime are a ‘classic’ example, or the expulsion of Asians from
East Africa discussed by Charles Westin in chapter 7.
In Trinidad, Malaysia, Fiji, Indonesia and other postcolonial societies
ethnically differentiated groups have performed typically (but not
wholly) different economic functions; the Indian-descent population
in Fiji have been largely cane-workers and small farmers, the Indians in
Malaysia were largely plantation workers. In those societies they have
also sustained a measure of social and cultural encapsulation, in part
influenced by religious difference from an indigenous population – for
example, the Muslim Malays and Christian Fijians.
In the United States in its nineteenth- and twentieth-century immi-
grations, the great drive was towards ‘Americanization’, the social and
cultural assimilation of its new populations. The massive exception to
this was a much longer-standing in-migrant population, who had also
been, from their arrival, highly concentrated as an ethnic group and as
a class. Africans in America were almost exclusively, from the early
seventeenth century to 1865, confined to plantation slave labour and
excluded from civic rights. This led to an all-encompassing binary
ethnicity of ‘white’ and ‘black’. A deep-rooted discourse of race and a
caste-like system of social and economic segregation ran through the
length and breadth of American institutions. In the post-slavery period
there developed a small middle class which specialized in services for
the mass of the black population. This was simultaneously a system of
class structure and a system of ethnic relations. Few black families
escaped the overwhelming concentration among the rural poor and
the poor and low-paid urban workers. Those who did remained within
the boundaries of ethnic exclusion. This system has been modified, but
only modestly by the enlargement of the black middle class in new and
expanding professional occupations.
Those who were immigrants and minorities, but white, were subject
to periods of discriminatory treatment but the overwhelming tendency
was for the long-term absorption into the white ‘mainstream’. Other
non-white immigrants, from China, Japan, Korea and other Asian
countries, have been treated as less than full citizens (Lyman, in
Hughey 1998). Because some of these newer migrants, those who came
from the 1980s onwards, have been relatively successful, they have
been taken to be exemplars of the American success narrative, tacitly
compared with African Americans. They are seen to be ‘culturally
suited’ to striving in the American system, an argument with profound
ideological functions as is brilliantly demonstrated by Deborah Woo in
chapter 6.
Cutting right across these themes of class and ethnicity are the
dimensions of globalization and individualism. We need only add a
few thoughts about these dimensions since many of the pertinent
points are entailed in what has preceded. The migration of labour is a
global phenomenon in which people move with speed though not
always with ease within and across continents. Labour migration is not
new, whether on a local or global scale. But the enrichment of multiple
centres of economic development – Asia, Europe, the Middle East
and America – the interconnectedness of world economies, global
communications and the speed of travel have all globalized labour
migration in new ways.
Poor South Asians and Filipinas form ethnically distinct domestic
labour in the oil-rich countries (Anderson 2000). East European women
are sex workers in Germany, impoverished Indonesians seek work in
Malaysia (the men as plantation workers and women as maids) and
Indians supply computer industry and software specialists to
California. We can see the possibility of migrant professionals and
business people imagining themselves as settled in no particular
country, retaining some links with co-ethnic friends, colleagues and
family on a global scale, but situating themselves where the pro tem
opportunities are best. Instantaneous global communication also has
an effect on the limits of the imagined community, extending a sense
of community across the whole world in train of the daily transmission
of news and images. Web-sites in India protest at the celebration of
Portuguese voyages of ‘discovery’ since they heralded the beginning of
colonization and expropriation. Portuguese citizens and Roman
Catholics react immediately to the repression of Timorese Catholics in
the wake of the collapse of Suharto’s dictatorship. Economic move-
ments of people, goods and capital have long had global dimensions,
and now do so on an ever-increasing scale; at the same time global
communications allows for the simultaneous movements of symbols of
affiliation of an ethnic, national and religious origin.
Finally, we can make one last comment about individualism. In
virtually every global movement of people, workers, business men and
women, and professionals are leaving one social order for another
where the first is substantially more ‘traditional’ in family norms and
gender expectations than is the second, the country of destination.
Movement repeatedly raises the question of the extent to which collec-
tive norms can survive in a highly individualized environment. In so
many cases of ethnic differentiation, or of minority–majority conver-
gence, the key questions surround the priorities of family life, the
ordering of husband–wife relations especially with regard to economic
participation, and the expectations of sons and daughters. In this way
some of the contradictions and dilemmas of ‘morality’ in a highly
individualistic culture are worked with special sharpness in ethnically
differentiated groups.
Ethnicity and class structure; the specificity of contexts
The above discussion has pointed to three major configurations of

ethnic economic positioning: the marginalization of indigenous
groups after conquest and occupation; long-standing labour migration
often linked to colonialism; and new patterns of migration and
employment arising from globalization. These are the bases of typo-
logies of ethnicity (see Eriksen 1993) developed in economic and polit-
ical contexts by Fenton (1999). Within such broad patterns of
structuration there are immense variations according to the specific
context, as shown in some of the examples given above. Here we con-
sider some of the factors affecting the way in which different ethnic
groups are originally positioned within the economy and also the way
in which ethnic locations may subsequently change.
One consistency is that most economies past and contemporary are
marked by some measure of ethnicization of the class structure. Migrant
groups assume and are given the character of ‘ethnic minorities’ and
their distinctiveness is marked both culturally and by their specific
positions in the social class hierarchy. This class positioning is
influenced by the patterns and timing of particular migrationary move-
ments (when and why they occurred, their extent and pace); the jobs
initially occupied by incoming migrants; their previous occupational
status and class position in the countries from which they migrated;
the stage of economic development in the host nation and its sub-
sequent trajectory; the previous history of colonial relationships.
As we have seen, one pattern of migration involves labour shortages
in immigrant-receiving countries3 and demands for particular types of
labour. In the colonial epoch, for example, migrant labour was often
used for agricultural work, especially in plantation systems. The heavy

and dangerous mining work was another area often allocated to migrant
workers forced and voluntary.4 In the postcolonial era this pattern
continued. For example, migration from the Caribbean colonies into
Britain was in response to labour shortages in the reconstructed
economy: men were recruited specifically for the transport system and
women as nurses. In all these examples, migrants entered into a cultural
context heavily shaped by colonial feelings and ideologies of racial
superiority which played a part in the assignment of particular low-level,
unskilled jobs on the basis of ethnicity. This made it very difficult for the
migrants to work their way up into better jobs. We may contrast this
with recent developments in Britain, where crises in the public services
have led to overseas recruitment of nurses and teachers from a diversity
of sources, including Australia, Sweden, South Africa, the Middle East
and India. In America, shortages of skilled computer specialists have
encouraged a wave of highly qualified young Indian males to take jobs
in California’s Silicon Valley. In these latter examples a context of demo-
cratic neoliberalism and a commitment to the values of multiculturalism
is likely to shape the prospects of the migrants in a different way, allow-
ing them more prospects of mobility and freeing them from ethnic ghet-
toization. Those, like the Indian graduates, who enter professional
employment are clearly in a very different ethnic/class positioning from
that of Britain’s postwar African-Caribbean communities.
The above examples are all cases where migration has been encour-
aged for economic reasons by the host state. A very different picture
arises where migrant groups are uninvited, fleeing, for example, from
persecution in their own countries or the ravages of civil war. While
some groups, such as the Jews and Roma discussed above, have become
adept survivors in hostile and racist environments, other refugee groups
may be among the worst sufferers of ethnic marginalization. Such, for
example, is currently the plight of Kurds, Kosovans and Albanians
within many European states. Refugee ethnic groups are likely to be
disadvantaged by lack of language skills and qualifications; they may be
shocked and psychologically damaged by their experiences; they have
often been forced to abandon savings and assets, arriving without capital
in an alien environment; and they may well have been bereft of family
and kin support, lacking the social capital for successful integration into
the economy. Such groups are frequently confined to the lowest tiers of
the class structure, joining the excluded ‘underclass’, forced into illegal
work or the informal economy, and at best finding their ways into the
lowest paid and least skilled jobs.
The position migrants occupied in their countries of origin is also a

crucial issue. Class advantages can transfer across the ethnic divide. Woo
(chapter 6) shows this to be a key factor in the success of Asian groups in
America. Class origins are important in the differing fortunes of different
ethnic groups in Britain as argued in the Fourth National Survey of
Ethnic Minorities (Modood et al. 1997). Many Bangladeshi and Pakistani
migrants came from rural areas with experience only of peasant farming
or unskilled labour. By contrast, Indians, especially those from East Asia,
were often middle-class, having held professional or business posts.
Although most of these latter migrants lost their class advantages on
arrival, with many being forced into manual work or low-level clerical
jobs, they succeeded in using their cultural and social capital to slowly
recoup their class position, holding out prospects of middle-class
lifestyles to second- and third-generation members.
Colonial history has also played its part, affecting the disposition of
ethnic groups in different societies. Thus, while Britain and America
have substantial populations of sub-Saharan African origin, this is
much less common in many European societies. Ethnic minority
groupings in France, for example, are largely from North Africa, while
the Netherlands has a substantial community from its former colonies
in the Far East. By contrast, European countries with less developed
colonial histories may encourage migration from the poorer countries
of the Mediterranean fringe: such is the case of Germany with its
Italian and Turkish Gastarbeiter.
Finally, gender plays some part in the way ethnicity intersects
with class, particularly in the way ethnic relations are consolidated in
any particular setting. As Yuval-Davis (1997) argues, gender is a very
important marker of ethnic boundaries. Economic and political
migrants (and, of course, indigenous groupings) can be of both sexes,
but in the case of labour shortages it is common for exclusively men or
exclusively women to be targeted. For example, the current situation of
de-industrialization and the switch to service-sector employment in
Western societies has led to substantial female migration: influxes into
Europe of sex workers from Eastern Europe and Africa, and of maids
and hotel workers from the Philippines, Indonesia and Latin America.
The process of family reunification after initial immigration is a very
important step in the consolidation of minority ethnicities. It may also
be the stepping stone to class mobility. The establishment of trader
economies and the setting up of small businesses is often dependent
on the employment of female family and kin members within the
enterprise. Recent research has focused on the crucial role of women in
holding communities together in the face of exclusion and margin-

alization (Yuval-Davis 1997; Newman 2000). As guardians of ethnic
tradition and respectability, women play a crucial role in both the
cultural and economic welfare of minority ethnic groupings (Barot,
Bradley and Fenton 1999).
The above illustrates some of the ways in which class and ethnicity
intersect without implying that the resultant positionings are fixed or
immutable. As economies develop and class relations change, so too
does the class/ethnicity relationship evolve and change. Nor do indi-
viduals passively accept or conform to the structured contexts in which
they find themselves. A few instances will illustrate this process.
We have already touched on some of the ways in which ethnic posi-
tioning changes after initial migration. A classic example is the status
recovery of the Asian professionals and business people resettled after
the East African expulsions (see the account in chapter 7). Similarly,
second- and third-generation members of settled migrant communities
may well throw off many of the initial disadvantages suffered by their
parents. In her study of Turkish-speaking groups Pinar Enneli (chapter
8) illustrates the economic differences between longer-settled migrants
and recent incomers, such as the Kurdish refugees. The situation of
young South Asians and African Caribbeans in the United Kingdom
illustrates both the possibilities of upward mobility and the complexi-
ties of ethnic positioning. Many young Asian and African-Caribbean
women, in particular, have taken advantage of the education system to
reach for middle-class occupations, especially in the professions. On
the other hand, young African-Caribbean men have fared less well,
with a considerable number appearing to become disillusioned with
the racism of the education and employment systems and sub-
sequently removing themselves from competition within the main-
stream economy. Such contrary tendencies often lead to a greater class
dispersion across a particular ethnic population as its stay in its country
of settlement lengthens, as is illustrated in the series of PSI reports on
ethnicity in Britain. However, recent work highlighting ethnic econ-
omic diversity in Britain by Wrench and Modood shows that even the
best qualified people suffer from an ethnic penalty in achieving econ-
omic success (Wrench and Modood 2001: 1).
At the same time, their parents’ class inheritance from countries of
origin helps young people to grasp new opportunities more success-
fully as the parents can offer them economic, social and cultural
capital to aid them in their education and labour market careers. As
Woo shows (chapter 6), this is a key issue in the American ‘Asian
success’ story. Moreover incoming ethnic groups with a history of

operating in trader economies may establish their own ethnic niches
which, as discussed in the next section, provide a base for upward
mobility. In all these ways individuals from minorities may improve
their class positioning. Both the United Kingdom and the United States,
in different ways, have seen the expansion of a black middle class.
Change is also the result of shifts in the global economy and in the
sectoral composition of labour markets within a national economy.
Globalization destroys some openings and creates others. De-industrial-
ization in Britain and America weighed heavily on black men, who lost
jobs in the car industry and other areas of skilled manual labour which
they had characteristically occupied, leading many into long-term
unemployment. The spread of global tourism has created a tranche of
low-level service jobs (in hotels, bars, restaurants, leisure attractions and
brothels) which have been filled by women migrants from poorer count-
ries. But it has also created a wealth of jobs in the ‘knowledge’ or ‘inform-
ation’ economy (in computer software and systems, web-site design,
research and technology, communications and media, marketing and
public relations). Young ethnic minority graduates in the advanced
societies or similarly well-qualified young people from the developing
world are well placed to compete for such jobs, employing their bilingual
or multilingual skills and their often cannily chosen credentials.
In at least the latter half of the twentieth century the position of
minorities, defined by ethnicity and gender, has been the subject of
policy interventions. America and other Western societies have formed
equal opportunities or even affirmative action programmes, designed
to remove the obstacles of prejudice, discrimination and institutional
racism. There is no agreement over the efficacy and desirability of such
programmes, but, especially in public sector organizations, they do
help to raise awareness of racial discrimination and contribute to a
‘climate of equality’ (Bradley 1999). In Britain the Macpherson Inquiry
into the murder of Stephen Lawrence has been a trigger for stepping up
anti-racist policy and a focus for political activism for ethnic lobbyists.
For example, the TUC has set up a Stephen Lawrence task force to help
constituent unions examine their own policies and practices and
promote better opportunities for black workers in the areas they organ-
ize. Universities, colleges, police forces and other public bodies have
been instructed to adopt frameworks for equal opportunities. ‘Race for
Opportunity’ and other partnership arrangements between employers,
unions and state and voluntary agencies offer a more sincere attempt
to tackle the blockages to minority ethnic employees’ success.
Structures and agents of ethnicity and class
We have thus far sought to emphasize the variations in the patterning

of class and ethnicity. Many of these patterns are historically estab-
lished. In examining contemporary and possible future configurations
we set out three illustrative scenarios; in doing so we are looking for a
balance between models of structure and models of agency.
The first might be described as a scenario of ethnic specialization.
We have already explored the ways in which people of particular
ethnic origins may be recruited and deployed in very specific occupa-
tions. It is possible, here, for ethnic minority members to actively
develop such ethnic niches or indeed identify other occupational slots
which may be appropriated in this way. The concentration of first-
generation Chinese migrants to America and Britain in restaurants
and laundries is a good example. Ethnic niches have many positive
aspects: they offer protected employment opportunities, provide a
degree of security and are a base for ethnic solidarism; they may
serve as a vehicle for upward class mobility. For example, in Britain
many young black and Asian adults have started out on a course of
professionalism by finding jobs within agencies dealing with ethnic
issues and servicing ethnic communities. Wrench and Modood also
suggest that small ethnic businesses may act as an ‘intergenerational
springboard’ for the next generation’s successful entry to high-status
professional work (Wrench and Modood 2001: 17). Ethnic niches
may also be important in the initial phases of developing a full-
blown ethnic economy such as is found in many larger and more pros-
perous cities in Europe. One such is Leicester. Since the arrival of the
expelled East African Asians in 1973, Leicester has witnessed the
steady growth of a mature ethnic economy. This provides Leicester’s
Asian communities with the whole range of products, services and
agencies they need within the Belgrave area of the city: sweet marts,
restaurants, sari shops, cinemas, supermarkets, travel agents, enter-
tainment facilities, religious edifices and community centres. At this
level of sophistication, Leicester’s ethnic economy bears something
of the character of an ethnic enclave: a parallel but separate set of key
institutions and enterprises which offers the promise of ethnic self-
sufficiency and independence, within a framework of segmentation
such as that posited within the ‘plural society’ thesis (see chapter 2).
But the key issue here is that the Asians themselves have been the
central and active agents in the construction of ethnic economies
and enclaves.
A second pattern is that of ethnic marginalization: some ethnic groups

remain confined in the lowest and most unwanted parts of the occupa-
tional and class hierarchy where they may be said to constitute an
underclass (Murray 1990; Morris 1994) or surplus labour population
(Bradley 1996) of permanently marginalized and excluded people.
William Wilson’s (1993) account of the ‘ghetto underclass’ is well
known and is based on the plight of African Americans and Hispanics
in the ‘projects’ (public housing estates) of North American cities.
There are heated disputes over the validity of the concept of ‘under-
class’ as well as empirical contestation as to its existence and the causes
of its development. However, there is little disagreement about the
high levels of unemployment among many ethnic minorities which is
characteristic of most Western societies: high levels of long-term
employment, lack of job opportunities in deprived inner-city or outer
suburban areas; the disillusion and alienation of youth in such areas
which may lead them to drop out of the formal economy, engaging in
crime, the black economy and other forms of ‘anti-social’ behaviour
such as vandalism or drug-taking are seen to be key factors in the
formation of the underclass.
Finally, a possible trend, although one which in most countries is at
a low level of development, is that of ethnic integration. This is a
utopian vision: the distribution of ethnic minority citizens throughout
the class structure in proportion to their representation among the
population as a whole. We are a long way from the achievement of this
anti-ethnic humanist Utopia. Despite equality and diversity policies,
the persistence of discrimination, of cultural values of white superiority
and of deeply embedded institutional racism militate against it. But
some of the developments discussed above (the recouping of lost class
position, upward social mobility among second and third settler gener-
ations, the development of a ‘black bourgeoisie’) could be seen as the
first steps along the road to an ethnically integrated economy in which
the old patterns of social differentiation are dismantled and dissolved.
Conclusion
In this chapter we have sketched out a ‘middle ground’ for the analysis of
the relationship between ethnicity and class, which represents a blending
of some aspects of modernist and postmodernist thinking. While sensi-
tive to variety and diversity we have insisted on the continuance of
patterning and of structured contexts. We showed how some key structur-
ing contexts from modernist theory – class processes, globalization and
individualism – shape the positioning of ethnic groups, minority and

majority, within the economy. Using these ideas, we delineated some
specific patternings of ethnicity within economic structures. Picking up
issues of variability and change, we showed that these are not totally arbi-
trary, but are shaped by the structured contexts of migration in different
times and locations. Finally, we explored some scenarios of current
ethnic/class positionings in the economy, suggesting possible trends:
ethnic specialization; ethnic marginalization or ethnic integration.
Our ‘middle ground’ analysis draws on some of the insights of moder-
nist structural theories (such as those of Marx, Weber and Durkheim)
while bearing in mind the postmodern attention to agency and choice.
Our approach avoids determinacy, while insisting on the importance of
patterning. It avoids fixity, while stressing the temporal persistence of
intersections of ethnicity and class. It acknowledges variability and
change while relating this to the structured contexts in which changes
occur and variations evolve. In doing so, we seek to elaborate a sociology
of social differentiation which asserts that all social relationships have
both material/economic aspects and cultural/meaningful aspects. Within
such a framework, also, it is possible to develop an analysis of social
identities round the notion of multiple positioning. This is to acknowledge
that individuals are socially located – they are located in class contexts,
cultures and social hierarchies. But if individuals are socially located their
lives are not finally determined by these positions. It is not just a case of
emphasizing a more intricate understanding of class and cultural
context. It is also a matter of emphasizing, in a way that a more deter-
ministic sociology did not, that people may reshape their own destinies
and simultaneously rework their social and cultural frameworks of living.
Notes
1. We would, however, exempt the work of Max Weber from this general stric-
ture against modernist tendencies.
2. Some of the richest and most interesting recent work on class is focused on
class cultures: for example, Skeggs (1997); Charlesworth (2000).
3. See Daly’s discussion of shortages of unskilled labour in chapter 9.
4. See Rex (chapter 2) on the deployment of African labour by the white rulers
in South Africa.
2
Race, Ethnicity and Class in
Different Political and Intellectual
Conjunctures
John Rex
One of the primary ways in which the relationship between the

sphere of ‘the economic’ and the sphere of ‘the ethnic and cultural’
has been discussed has been through debates about race (or ethnic-
ity) and class. These debates have surfaced in a number of ways since
the early 1950s, when the world was recovering from the Second
World War and was on the brink of a momentous period of decolo-
nization. In this chapter I will reflect on four key moments or varia-
tions in these debates, all of which persist into the present period. It
is important to recognize that the problem of the relation between
the terms race, ethnicity and class has arisen in a series of quite
different political and ideological contexts. Equally varied are the
academic and intellectual contexts of this question. Indeed, I shall
raise the question as to whether there can be any ‘final’ answer to
understanding the relationship between class and race or ethnicity
as against considering a number of different foci according to the
countries, regions and historical junctures at which it has appeared.
In other words, ethnicity and race in their relation to class are
always defined by context (Fenton 1999). In what follows I will
examine the historical argument concerning ‘race and class’ in
South Africa; the debate about the concept ‘plural society’; discus-
sions of the very meaning of ‘race’ and ‘racism’ starting with the
attempts to define them prompted by UNESCO; and finally the argu-
ments about race, class and ethnicity in Britain and Western Europe.
This, of course, leaves out large areas of the world where the
problem is posed in different ways, especially the former Communist
countries.
31
32 John Rex
Race and class in South Africa
Theories deriving from orthodox and revisionist Marxism have played

an important part in thinking by academics in South Africa. The most
significant figure here has been the South African communist scholar,
Harold Wolpe. Wolpe has dealt with two sets of problems: the position
of the white working class; and the intersection of two modes of
production.
In dealing with the white working class Wolpe’s work is related to
that of another Marxist, Carchedi (Carchedi 1977; Wolpe 1972).
Clearly, there is no unity of the working class across colour lines in
South Africa. Famously, the Third International had used the slogan
‘Workers of the World Unite for a White South Africa’. Within the
context of Marxist theory this has to be explained not merely in
general terms of the differing relations of black and white workers to
the means of production, but more narrowly in terms of the differing
control of surplus value.
On the other hand, Wolpe recognizes that there are two distinct
modes of production in South Africa, a capitalist one to be found in
urban industrial contexts, and a pre-capitalist one to be found in what
were called the native reserves. This argument is situated in the argu-
ment about different modes of production (for which see, inter alia,
Foster-Carter 1978; Hindess and Hirst 1975).1 According to Wolpe,
however, the capitalism in South Africa is distinctly different from that
found in Europe in that its reproductive costs are kept low because
some of them, such as the breeding of new workers and their support
when they return from urban migration, are met by their kin and
fellow tribesmen in the reserves.
My own contribution to this debate was to suggest that the overall
capitalist system in South Africa was based upon three essential institu-
tions for the exploitation of black labour: the mining compound, the
urban location and the native reserves. Black migrant workers in the
mines lived in a kind of bachelor barracks outside their working hours
cut off from kin behind barbed wire. Other workers in the city lived in
locations where they were controlled by the pass laws, where their
sojourn was regarded as temporary and where they were tightly policed.
While there were other black workers in the city, the migrant worker
was the modal type, and the class position of the blacks was essentially
that of migrant workers. On the other question, the position of the
black and white working classes, I suggested in my contribution to the
UNESCO volume Sociological Theories: Race and Colonialism (Rex 1980)
Race, Ethnicity and Class in Different Political and Intellectual Conjunctures 33
that the actual relation to the means of production of the white

working class was determined by the fact that they controlled the polit-
ical system, whereas that of black workers rested upon the fact that they
exercised no such political control, but were themselves controlled by
the police. It seemed to me that a Marxist approach failed to recognize
the political element involved in this situation and I argued for a more
complex analysis derived from Max Weber (Bendix 1962; Weber 1968),
an argument supported by Stuart Hall (1980).
The whole argument, of course, referred to the period of white political
domination, usually referred to misleadingly by the term ‘apartheid’.
Clearly, it changed when white domination was overthrown. The African
National Congress, which had led the liberation movement, defined its
own position in universalist terms. It saw all workers, black and white, as
belonging to a single class and within the black group it refused to recog-
nize ethnic or tribal differences. As time went on, however, distinctions
amongst blacks, most notably that between Zulus and the other groups,
were recognized and these distinctions, which were clearly not based
upon colour or race, were described as ethnic. Moreover post-apartheid
society seemed to involve class differences amongst blacks, with a minor-
ity sharing in what had been white privileges.
Finally, one has to recognize that it is an oversimplification to speak
about South Africa in terms of white and black alone. During both the
period of white domination and after the political change coloured
people and Indians had different degrees of privilege and power, and
within these groups there were many differences of ethnicity, language
and religion. One of the assumptions made in this section is that we are
concerned to develop concepts of groups whose members can be thought
of as acting together in a meaningful way rather than looking simply at
the attributes of individuals as a purely empiricist sociology might do.
This observation is also relevant in each of the sections which follow.
The plural society debate
Whereas South Africa was the site for race–class debates, the plural
societies debate focused primarily on South East Asia and the
Caribbean. This important theoretical development in sociology has
portrayed colonial societies as ‘plural’, in contrast to the unitary soci-
eties in metropolitan centres. When one looks at studies conceived in
these terms, however, one finds that they rest upon concepts of class,
race and ethnicity. Here I shall consider the theorization of the plural
society as it has been developed by J.S. Furnivall and M.G. Smith.
34 John Rex
Furnivall wrote particularly about Indonesia but, in his study

Netherlands India (1944) as well as in his subsequent work Colonial
Policy and Practice (1948), he set out a general sociology of colonial
societies. According to his account, in Netherlands India members of
culturally and ethnically closed groups meet members of other groups
only in the marketplace. Within each group there is a strong sense of
belonging as well as a set of institutions binding members together,
but in the marketplace, where individuals deal with members of other
groups, there is no common will.
This is a harsh type of society with none of the characteristics of what
Durkheim called organic solidarity which was capable of holding people
together despite the individualism of modern society (Durkheim 1933).
It was in fact the pure form of a society, based upon what Marx and
Engels described in the Communist Manifesto as the callous cash nexus.
Furnivall did not go beyond discussing a marketplace of individuals to
talk about class formation and class conflict, but it is easy to see that
such conflicts having nothing to do with how ethnicity might develop.
Nor does he explore the possibility that ethnic groups might operate as
classes as the marketplace develops. Ethnic groups conceived in this
way would be very different from the separate ethnic retreats, which he
describes as removed from the marketplace altogether.
Furnivall always discusses groups in what is really a Weberian way
(see Weber 1968) as resulting from the action orientation of theoreti-
cally conceived individuals. This perspective is maintained in his
second book, Colonial Policy and Practice, in which he discusses the
reaction of ethnic groups to colonialism. Here they seem much more
like ethnic classes. His position is methodologically individualist in the
way that Weber’s was, rather than in the empiricist sense of looking at
the observable and quantifiable characteristics of individuals.
M.G. Smith studies Grenada, but just as Furnivall’s account of
Indonesia provides a general theory of colonial society, so Smith’s
theory (in The Plural Society in the British West Indies, 1965) is an
attempt to set out a similarly general theory. As a matter of theoretical
convenience Smith contrasts colonial societies with the pure form of a
functionally integrated society as developed by Talcott Parsons, in The
Social System (1951). In colonial society there are a number of inter-
acting ethnic groups, each of which has a nearly complete set of social
institutions. Pluralism, he tells us, is a condition in which each of the
different ethnic groups has a basic institutional system which embraces
kinship, education, religion, property and economy, recreation and
certain sodalities. What these groups lack, however, is a shared system
of government. The institution of government brings all the separate

ethnic groups together and in colonial times the institution of govern-
ment is in the hands of the colonial power. This view contrasts with
Furnivall’s, who sees the total society as held together by market forces.
For Smith the binding together of groups is a political rather than an
economic matter.2
A new problem arises in these societies when the colonial power is
overthrown. When this occurs the danger arises that the colonial
society will break up into a number of discrete societies each develop-
ing its own government and politically independent. This may indeed
occur. The other possibility is that a struggle for political control will
break out between the different ethnic groups, or that one of them
may take over the reins of power by itself. There is a whole range of
possibilities here, as can be seen from the postcolonial history of
Guyana or of Malaysia. The forms of conflict between ethnic groups in
these two countries and their different possible resolutions are well
discussed by Horowitz (1985).
Smith also addresses the question of the position of black Americans
in US society. As he sees it, the United States is heterogeneous without
becoming plural. Ethnic groups are bound to the society by far more
than the institution of government alone, and the various binding
institutions are strong enough to allow for some degree of cultural
differentiation amongst the underprivileged minority or amongst
immigrant groups. Conversely, most such groups in the United States
are not ‘institutionally complete’ in anything like the sense that
Furnivall and Smith applied to other groups. This is true even though
the period of segregation in America forced the creation of ‘parallel’
institutions in schools, churches and voluntary associations. Thus, the
term plural in Smith’s sense should not be applied to multicultural
societies, which I shall discuss in a later section.
While the various constituent segments of a plural colonial society as
well as minorities in a heterogeneous society are commonly disting-
uished by their culture, they can also be distinguished by their physical
appearance or phenotype. Colour thus plays an important role in the
Caribbean, and Smith is happy even to speak of races when differences
of phenotype are the crucial distinguishing marks between groups.
The whole argument about plural and heterogeneous societies has
been developed in many complex ways by other writers and notably
by Smith with Leo Kuper (1969) and by Pierre van den Berghe
(1967). Independently, I have tried to develop the theory in a way
that, while recognizing the importance of the political, as Smith’s
36 John Rex
does, also seeks to do justice to relevant Marxist ideas (Rex 1981,

1983). 3 Here I insist upon the notion of different forms of exploit-
ation as characterizing different colonial societies, but I recognize
that political institutions are also important. A crucial concept here
is that of ‘estate’. I believe that colonial plural societies are bound
together in ways very similar to the estate system of medieval
Europe. I also give my own account of a movement from colonial to
postcolonial society which considers political independence, econ-
omic liberalization, relations to alternative metropolitan centres,
incorporation into a global economy and the development of new
patterns of revolution of the types represented by Franz Fanon and
Che Guevara. Moreover, I argue that while changes occur at the colo-
nial end in the new international economy, so also the nature of
metropolitan society is transformed by the arrival of postcolonial
immigrants.4
UNESCO statements on race
After the Second World War UNESCO addressed the problems created
by the misuse of the concept of race by the Nazis, and, especially, their
notions of an Aryan race and their treating Jews as a race. It therefore
arranged four successive conferences in subsequent years during which
the focus tended to move from the single case of the persecution of Jews
as a race to White/Black relations (see Montagu 1981). The first three
conferences were attended by biologists and the main conclusions of
the third were: 1) race was a classificatory concept of limited usefulness;
there was considerable overlap between the populations so classified;
2) the basis of these classifications related to physical appearance or
phenotype; 3) if the concept was properly used, it had no implications
for psychological or cultural characteristics and certainly not for the
allocation of individuals to different groups of unequal rights.
Before the end of the Second World War, Ruth Benedict (1983) had
suggested that it was still useful for classificatory purposes to recognize
three major racial groups, namely Negroid, Mongoloid and Nordic,
based upon physical characteristics, although Benedict too emphasized
that the distinctions rested purely upon physical characteristics. If,
however, one was looking at genetic inheritance, the most that geneti-
cists were prepared to say was that there were small, distinct local pop-
ulations who, because they did not mate outside the group, had a
limited gene pool. Again, this did not imply the existence of genes for
psychological and cultural characteristics. The problem which these
discussions amongst biologists posed was that of the difference

between scientific and popular usage of the term race. Clearly the
popular belief was that a wide range of groups were races, and it was
this notion which was most usual in political discussion. The task for
the social scientists and psychologists who participated in the second
UNESCO meeting was to explain why this disparity existed. Generally,
the sociologists saw it as arising from colonialism, but all agreed that
the real problem was to explain the phenomena of racism and race
prejudice. Surprisingly, sociologists had had little to say on this, and I
thought it necessary to set out my own views in Race Relations in
Sociology Theory (Rex 1970).
There I spoke of ‘race relations situations’ as existing when severe
social conflict, exploitation and oppression occur, where such conflict
was not between individuals but between groups, and where the domi-
nant groups justified the inter-group situation in terms of some sort of
deterministic theory, the most usual being a biological or genetic one. I
did, however, recognize that cultural or ethnic differences could be
seen as deterministic in this sense. Guillaumin (1980) saw the crucial
element in racist theories as lying in the representation of inter-group
differences as given in nature. My own work in this period explicitly
rejected the notion of race as an explanatory variable (although Miles
[1993] mistakenly believed it advocated it) and made clear that the
problem was not ‘race’ but ‘racism’.
When the British Social Science Research Council set up a number of
research units to engage in underdeveloped areas of research it called
one of its units the Research Unit on Race Relations. Very soon,
however, the members of the Unit rejected the use of the term and
changed the Unit’s name to the Research Unit on Ethnic Relations. This
reflected a widespread rejection of race as a social category and a concen-
tration instead upon the study of ethnicity. Race was seen as a biological
term; ethnicity as a cultural one. This was even more true in continental
Europe where the use of the term race had become discredited by the
experience of Nazism. Ethnicity has become the basis of the study of
inter-group differences and it is generally thought that if differences are
ethnic the behaviour of members of the groups involved is flexible and
can change, thus contrasting with the notion of ‘fixity’ associated with
race. Ethnic groups are not natural in Guillaumin’s sense.
It should be noted that purely empiricist social science is not affected
by these subtle distinctions. Thus when the British Census introduced
an ethnic question in 1991, it asked individuals to state to which
ethnic group they belonged, offering the options of White, Black
38 John Rex
Caribbean, Black African, Other Black, Indian, Pakistani or Bangladeshi,

Chinese or other Asian. There is a monumental confusion here.
Whiteness can only in a very crude and imprecise sense be regarded as a
form of ethnicity, and when the Census turns to Asians the basis of
classification becomes one of national origin. In the 2001 Census
moreover a religious question was added. No other European country
has followed the British example.
Finally, it should be noted that the definition of ethnicity is seen as
distinct from one based upon class. The study of class differences based
upon groupings of occupations is thought of in the Census as quite
distinct. This ignores two other possibilities: that within each ethnic
group there can be distinctions of sub-groups based upon class; and that
one ethnic group might itself have a class-like relation to other groups
deriving from its access to the means of production or any other resource
(as is posited in Wilson’s (1993) idea of the ‘ghetto underclass’).
Race, ethnicity and class in Europe
In Britain the study of race and ethnic relations became a central issue
for sociologists as increasing numbers, first of Caribbean, and then of
Asian, immigrants arrived to fill gaps in the labour market in the 1950s
and 1960s. Kenneth Little, an anthropologist and a leading Fabian social-
ist, had put forward an early version of the theory of an underclass,
seeing the newcomers as occupying positions below an existing class
system. In response Sheila Patterson and Michael Banton used Simmel’s
notion of the stranger to describe British reactions to their presence (an
early version of the theory of xenophobia which commonly comple-
ments the theory of racism) (Banton 1955; Patterson 1965). In the 1960s
a number of us returned to one or other variant of class analysis.
The book which Robert Moore and I wrote about Sparkbrook in
Birmingham (Rex and Moore 1967) became especially influential. In
fact, the book had a number of different and overlapping objectives,
including that of persuading the public to oppose racial discrimination
(see Edmondson 1984), but the analysis of inter-group conflict turned
to a large extent on class relations. The particular type of class relations
to which it drew attention was that which arose from access to houses
of varying degrees of desirability, giving this, rather than industrial
class conflict, centrality in explaining local politics.5 In so far as it also
drew upon Park and Burgess’s ecological theory of concentric urban
zones, it rewrote this in terms of the responses of various groups to the
housing system.
This emphasis on class analysis was criticized by Marxists, who

insisted upon the centrality of industrial conflict or who drew on the
work of Castells and Harvey (Castells 1967; Harvey 1973; Pickvance
1976). It was also opposed by others who, rejecting class analysis alto-
gether, insisted that the housing system was determined by ethnic
choice rather than by structural constraints (Dhaya 1974; Robinson
1979). Such criticism obviously gave priority to ethnicity over class.
In some European countries explanations of inter-group conflict
rejected the popular British explanation in terms of race or colour and
emphasized cultural differences instead. The group singled out for dis-
crimination and who fought against discrimination in France were
Muslim immigrants from the Mahgreb. French political parties gave
little recognition to these cultures and offered them instead a common
citizenship. On the other hand, in Germany Turkish and other immi-
grants were treated as what Hammar (1990) calls denizens rather than
citizens. Lacking citizenship rights they were dependent upon German
churches and trade unions for social services such as housing.
It was, of course, always possible to relate these developments to
social class. What French and German policy did was not merely to
grant or deny a common citizenship, but to subordinate the struggles
of immigrant groups to the class struggle which Marxists saw as central
to national politics or which social democrats saw as underlying the
emergence of the welfare state (Korpi 1983). An early attempt to look
at the position of immigrant workers in four European countries was
that of Castles and Kosack (1973). They saw the presence of immigrant
workers as a new element affecting the more normal pattern of class
struggle and appeared to call for their being recognized by the national
trade unions as full comrades.
Many different issues are intertwined in these various European situ-
ations. These are advanced industrial societies in which there has been
class struggle, but in which conflicting interests have been reconciled in
the welfare state. These issues have been well discussed by Frank-Olaf
Radtke (1994), who believes that, in a social democratic welfare state in
which the conflicting interests of classes have been reconciled in negotia-
tion, it is wrong to treat immigrant workers through special agencies. He
believes that their problems should be explained and dealt with not by
recognizing them as a distinct group but as part of the general citizenry.
Much of the argument about class, race and ethnicity becomes merged
in policy discussions about the welfare state. Most sociologists have been
sceptical about the separate recognition of immigrant groups in multi-
cultural societies. Thus, from a French perspective, Michel Wieviorka
40 John Rex
(1994b) sees ethnicity as something attributed only to inferiors. Jan Rath

(1991) sees the much vaunted recognition of minorities in the
Netherlands associated with the policy of ‘pillarization’ as one of singling
out minorities for inferior treatment. Schierup and Alund (1990) see
Sweden’s multicultural policy as manipulating minorities through negoti-
ation with elderly male leaders rather than recognizing the new alliances
which are being negotiated between young people across ethnic bound-
aries and which lead to the development of new forms of class struggle.
As against these views I have drawn attention to a definition by Roy
Jenkins (one-time British Home Secretary) of integration as involving
not a flattening process of uniformity but cultural diversity, coupled
with equal opportunity in an atmosphere of mutual tolerance (Rex and
Tomlinson 1979). So far as the equal opportunity element involved in
this formulation is concerned, I have suggested that it could be inter-
preted in terms of T.H. Marshall’s (1951) notion in relation to the
working class’s acquisition of citizenship first through legal, then polit-
ical and, finally, a minimum of social equality. The question is whether
immigrant cultural minorities can be brought within this system
enjoying the same rights as citizens in the public sphere, whilst in a
private and communal sphere they may preserve their language(s),
sustain their religion(s) and maintain family customs.
All of this is highly relevant to the question of the relation between
class, race and ethnicity. It suggests that, from a policy point of view,
immigrant minorities may be thought of as undergoing a process of
integration into the welfare state similar to that of the working class.
This, however, assumes that those who govern nation-states do have
such benign intentions. On this it must be said that some do but
others do not. Some of the contenders for political power indeed are
both racist and xenophobic in their view of how immigrants should be
treated. It is, therefore, important to notice that the immigrant groups
themselves may be seen not simply as the objects of policy, but as
actors on their own behalf. In so far as they do act in this way they
may be seen as ‘quasi-classes’ engaged in a struggle with native people
for economic and other rights. This seems the most important way in
which the notion of class should be inserted into the debate about
ethnicity and multicultural societies in Europe.
Conclusion
What I have said here about key debates concerning race, ethnicity and
class suggests that these debates are highly contextually based. The
South African debate, for example, was very specifically oriented to

understanding the principal African society which had preserved racial
segregation into the late twentieth century and furthermore was linked
to urgent questions about how this might be expected to be overcome.
The plural society concept, though in some respects more general, has
a particular relevance to the colonial societies of South East Asia and
their postcolonial destinies.
I do not believe that we can expect to develop a simple and general
abstract theory of the relation between class, race and ethnicity. What
we can do, and what I have sought to do in this chapter, is to look at a
number of different situations and the debates to which they give rise
and note how these variables intersect with one another in each empir-
ical case and analytical context.
Notes
1. A comprehensive bibliography dealing with this question is attached to
Hall’s article, ‘Race, Articulation and Societies Structured in Dominance’, in
Sociological Theories: Race and Colonialism (UNESCO, 1980).
2. This is a somewhat oversimplified account of Smith’s theories. In his
opening chapters he systematically explores both the complexities of
Parsons’ theory of functionally integrated societies and the full range of
anthropological theories which have affected the understanding of the
Caribbean and Central America.
3. When I asked Smith whether the existence of plantations did not suggest an
economic element binding groups together in colonial society, he replied
that he saw the plantation as a political institution. Generalizing from this
observation, what I have sought to do is to develop a theory in which the
binding element in colonial society is economic-political.
4. I call my theory postcolonial theory. This is a term which has also been used
in the revision of structuralist Marxism by Balibar. I believe, however, that
my theory here deals with much more complex elements than does this
revisionist European Marxism.
5. The housing class concept was discussed and criticized by many urban socio-
logists and political scientists and the criticisms are too numerous and
diverse to be listed here. The best single review that I know is in Lynn
Hancock’s unpublished PhD thesis for the University of Liverpool (1995).
3
Racism, Sexuality and Political
Economy: Marxism/Foucault/
‘Postmodernism’
Ali Rattansi
Introduction
Between the 1960s and the 1980s, a vibrant debate about the various
modalities of interrelation between ‘race’ and ‘class’ was engaged in,
in Britain. The major fault-line separated various Marxist interpreters
from those more influenced by Weberian concepts of class and capital-
ism, although it is important to note that the field of ‘race relations’
studies in general was characterized by a variety of approaches, and
that even at the time a range of Marxist positions were being
advanced. Even a complicated Marxian/Weberian division certainly
did not completely determine what was being researched and discussed
around racism and ethnicity in this period.
With regard to the Marx/Weber divide, it is perhaps arguable in retro-
spect that the various protagonists were relatively more united in their
basic arguments than appeared to be the case in the heat of that long
moment, when it seemed that the mass of British sociologists were in
acrimonious contention over (Marxist) production-based theories of
‘class and capitalism’ – which in effect described what was understood as
‘society’ – and (Weberian) ‘market-based’ conceptualizations.1 That is, for
all their disagreements, there was little dissent from the view that class
was, in general, the more important structuring influence and that ‘race’
or, more properly put, processes of racialization consistently (and for
many, necessarily) occupied a subordinate place as an explanatory force.
Rex, the most prominent Weberian, defined race relations ‘as a category
of class relations’ (Rex 1970). Miles, one of the most sophisticated of the
Marxist writers, regarded ethnic minorities primarily as a class fraction
within the capitalist structure of social relations (Miles 1982). Some sub-
sequent re-evaluations of the general Marx/Weber divide prevalent in
42
Racism, Sexuality and Political Economy 43
the 1960s and 1970s in British sociology of class have now concluded
that the debate tended to exaggerate the degree to which Weber’s views
(and those of most left Weberians) differed from those of Marxism on
many crucial issues (Abercrombie and Urry 1983; Sayer 1989).
This chapter takes this iconoclasm further. It argues that what is now
required is something beyond a mere rapprochement between Marxist and
Weberian perspectives on ‘race’ and class. It argues for a more sweeping
revision of received frameworks, making the ‘race’/class nexus and its
dynamics part of a broader reconceptualization of the way in which social
divisions and institutions are analysed. I have proposed a somewhat
ambitious reframing of these issues under the general notion of a ‘post-
modern frame’ (Rattansi 1994). In what follows I will expound briefly on
the nature and some of the merits of this proposed route away from the
limitations of mere reworkings of the Marx/Weber debate with regard to
the relations between ‘race’ and class. The vehicle chosen for this explor-
ation is a discussion of one of the most influential pieces of analysis of
‘race’ and class published in the 1970s: Sivanandan’s ‘Race, Class and the
State’, initially published in 1976 in the journal he continues to edit, Race
and Class, and subsequently issued in booklet form in 1978.
Some important caveats need to be entered before the main body of
the discussion in order to prevent possible misunderstandings. First, in
a chapter of this length my alternative framework can be set out in
only a rather compressed manner: the interested reader is encouraged
to seek out the extended elaboration in my contribution to Racism,
Modernity and Identity (Rattansi and Westwood 1994). Second, in con-
trast to the essay in the collection co-edited with Westwood, only some
aspects of the ‘postmodern frame’ will be deployed here, given that my
analysis will focus primarily on developments in British immigration
policy, which formed the centrepiece of Sivanandan’s own discussion.
In other words, this chapter is not intended as a comprehensive demonstra-
tion of the merits of the perspective I have been advocating. Third, subject-
ing Sivanandan’s essay to a detailed critique should be regarded as a
mark of respect on my part for the brilliance of some of his work and
its enduring influence; my chapter is not meant as a retrospective, con-
temptuous dismissal of one of the major contributors to anti-racist
struggles in Britain. Finally, as will become clear later in the chapter, by
consistently inserting scare quotes around the term ‘postmodern
frame’ I am signalling a very specific usage of the much reviled notion
of the ‘postmodern’ as well as a reflexivity regarding its provisionality
and limitations, some of which I have discussed elsewhere (Rattansi
1994; see also, Rattansi 1995; Boyne and Rattansi 1990).
44 Ali Rattansi
A seminal moment: Sivanandan on race, class and the state
Sivanandan’s widely read ‘Race, Class and the State: The Black
Experience in Britain’ was perhaps the single most influential piece of
analysis in relation to left-wing understandings of racism and radical
anti-racism in the 1970s and 1980s. It provided, characteristically, a
powerfully written, succinct and highly plausible Marxist account of
the changing nature of British immigration policy in the post-Second
World War period. Many of its central arguments concerning the
shaping of the contours of immigration policy were widely accepted by
liberals, Weberians and Marxists alike.
The recent availability of a mass of governmental archives on
immigration policy from the 1940s and 1950s (of course, not accessible
to Sivanandan at the time) makes this an opportune moment to revisit
Sivanandan’s original arguments. As we will see, a great deal of his
analysis has to be revised in the light of this new evidence. But the
point of my chapter is not to engage in the unfair, anachronistic exer-
cise of criticizing Sivanandan with superior hindsight. Rather, I wish to
support the arguments of those Marxists who, influenced by newer cur-
rents in Marxism, for example the work of Poulantzas, had already
begun to distance themselves from Sivanandan’s mode of Marxist
analysis, although this current had failed to percolate sufficiently into
the field of ‘race’ relations. These more sophisticated forms of Marxism
can be deployed to make better sense of what we now know about
British immigration policy in the period between 1945 and 1962 and
could have been deployed at the time to provide more sophisticated
understandings of immigration policy. However, as pointed out earlier,
I also suggest that an even more adequate account requires not merely
modifying but making a break with Marxist assumptions, and operat-
ionalizing, instead, an analysis of racism which incorporates elements
of what has come to be called the ‘postmodern’ turn in social analysis.
The Sivanandan thesis: the political economy of immigration
The Sivanandan thesis is a particular narrative about the driving forces

behind British immigration policy in the post-Second World War
period. Like any narrative, it has a ‘plot’ – a term that also denotes a
form of conspiracy – and key characters or plotters. Chief among the
latter, in Sivanandan’s story, are ‘the state’ and ‘capital’. Other charac-
ters – ‘immigrant workers’, ‘white workers’, ‘slum landlords’, and so
forth – play subordinate roles, and come and go as the plot develops.
In line with the accepted scholarship and a popular Marxism of the

day, Sivanandan portrayed the period between 1945 and the first
Commonwealth Immigration Act of 1962 as one of laissez-faire in
immigration policy. This was part of the political common sense of the
times. It seems to have been generally accepted, too, that successive
British governments – and thus ‘the British state’ – allowed the uncon-
trolled flow of black and Asian labour from the colonies because the
British economy, picking itself up and expanding after the war, was
experiencing severe labour shortages, especially of unskilled and semi-
skilled work, particularly in older industries with poor working con-
ditions and pay, as indigenous white workers moved up to more
skilled, better-paid work.
Put in Sivanandan’s Marxist terms, the British state, in its laissez-faire
immigration policies, was basically pursuing and underwriting the interests
of capital. Having exhausted supplies of European refugee labour, the
state became party to the recruitment of workers from the colonies
where generations of systematic misdevelopment had created large
pools of unemployed or underemployed labour. Successive govern-
ments, so the narrative has it, actively supported the recruitment of
workers from the West Indian islands, Guyana and the Indian subcon-
tinent. State involvement was particularly noted in filling labour short-
ages in the newly established National Health Service and in supplying
workers for London Transport.
The specific structure of labour demands and patterns of recruitment
and migration resulted in immigrant workers experiencing a distinctive
sectoral, occupational and geographical distribution. By the mid-1960s
a clear pattern could be discerned: migrant workers were dispropor-
tionately concentrated in manufacturing, transport and communica-
tions, and the National Health Service, with the vast majority in
semi-skilled and unskilled work in the conurbations of London, the
West Midlands, South-East Lancashire and West Yorkshire. Moreover,
their housing conditions, rather like the jobs that white workers had
spurned, were significantly worse than those of the white population.
The advantages to capital and the national economy, as Sivanandan
and other Marxists pointed out, resulted not only from the availability of
a supply of cheap labour, a colonial reserve army of labour, but also from
the fact that this set of workers had other favourable attributes: they came
already in adult, schooled form and often, as with nurses, with relevant
skills and backgrounds; the immigrant workers were primarily young,
healthy and without families, thus making minimal demands on health
services and the education system (Gorz 1970; Sivanandan 1976: 349).
46 Ali Rattansi
Various formal and informal mechanisms ensured that more immi-

grant labour flowed into Britain during periods of mini-boom, while
potential migrants stayed away when the economy slowed down
(Peach 1969; Sivanandan 1976: 350). Moreover, and significantly, the
state and capital were well served by the production of a working class
divided along racial and racist lines.
But the state and capital could not rest complacently on this extra-
ordinarily smooth and profitable achievement much beyond the late
1950s. Social cracks began to emerge which started to undermine the
economic fabric. There was a heightening of racial tensions. Immigrant
workers had been forced into poor housing in the inner cities, there to
live cheek by jowl with poor sections of the white working class. In addi-
tion, racist discrimination and a shortage of housing forced black workers
into overcrowded accommodation. The housing shortage also impinged
on poorer whites, whose lives were already blighted, like those of black
workers, by the general decay in the inner cities (Sivanandan 1976: 350).
The ‘race’ riots of 1958 in London’s Notting Hill Gate and in
Nottingham proved to be the catalyst, according to Sivanandan, for a
reconsideration of British immigration policy. The state had to modify
its slavish adherence to the interests of capital and ‘appear’ to act in
the national interest by dealing with the socially ‘counter-productive’
effects of racism: it decided to slow down immigration, trying to keep
racism within profitable limits, but was also forced to provide some
relief for the depressed areas.
None of the measures was really against the interests of capital, accord-
ing to Sivanandan, because the demand for unskilled – although not pro-
fessional and skilled – labour had finally declined and in any case the
abundant supply of unskilled labour gave employers a disincentive to
automate and become fully competitive with the economies of the
European Common Market. While the stage was now set for immigration
control, the interests of capital demanded that these take a very specific
form because British capitalism could function properly only if it could
periodically expel and re-import migrant labour as the economy experi-
enced its cyclical recessions and expansions (Sivanandan 1976: 351). The
British could not immediately emulate the ruthless Western European
model of migrant labour restrictions because of the need to maintain the
historical relationship with the Commonwealth ‘which ensured the con-
tinued dependence of the colonial periphery on the centre’ – ‘No one, bar
the tear-stained liberals’, according to Sivanandan, ‘believed the senti-
mental bull about mother-country obligations’ (Sivanandan 1976: 351).
Thus he implied that the British governments were concerned only with
economic interests narrowly defined.
So a strategy evolved, through successive Immigration Acts begin-

ning in 1962, which gradually began to move Britain ‘towards the
European model of contract labour (and a European configuration with
the poor south as its periphery without forgoing the “Commonwealth”
relationship)’ (Sivanandan 1976: 353). Increasingly intricate and
sophisticated systems of vouchers were put in place, controlling the
flow of Commonwealth labour of different skills and qualifications.
There followed a series of White Papers and the 1968 and 1971 Acts.
Simultaneously, the British state embarked on a series of measures
designed to ‘integrate’ the black population in a variety of ways.
Altogether, in Sivanandan’s judgement, the British state achieved an
extraordinarily beneficial solution for capital, the driving force of the
policies deriving from class interests rather than racism.
Sivanandan’s narrative clearly privileges class over race. The state,
in his account, responded above all to the needs of capital and in a
series of remarkable juggling acts – and Acts – was able to keep the
short- and long-term interests of capital paramount. The state is
represented in this story as a unified entity, with a clear knowledge
and vision of the needs and interests of capital. Hand in glove with
capital, the state was constantly able to ‘plot’ to devise the best poli-
cies to exploit black labour, the vast bulk of the indigenous white
working class, and cleverly pit one against the other to prevent the
militancy of black labour from igniting the revolutionary impulse of
the white working class:
Thus the state had achieved for capital the best combination of
factors while appearing, at the same time, to have barricaded the
nation against the intrusion of an ‘alien wedge’. It had atomized the
working class and created hierarchies within it based on race and
nationality to make conflicting sectional interests assume greater
significance than the interests of the class as whole. It had com-
bined with the bureaucracy to reduce the political struggle to its
bare economic essentials – degraded the struggle to overthrow the
system to be well off within it … . And when the black proletariat
threatened to bring a political dimension from out of their own
historic struggle against capital, to the struggle of the working class,
state policy had helped trade unions to institutionalize divisive
racist practices within the labour movement itself … . But racism
was not its own justification. It is necessary [to capital] only for the
purpose of exploitation: you discriminate in order to exploit or,
which is the same thing you exploit by discriminating. (Sivanandan
1976: 357–8)
48 Ali Rattansi
Rewriting the narratives: from Marxism to

‘postmodernism’
Sivanandan was drawing upon a Marxist theorization of the state which,

in debates in the 1970s and 1980s, came to be characterized – usually by
its critics – as ‘instrumentalist’. That is, a theorization in which the state
simply functions as an instrument of capital.
More complex theorizations had begun to draw upon the work of
Poulantzas, Gramsci and others, highlighting divisions within capital
and between apparatuses within the state. These suggested that such frac-
tures prevented any easy symbiosis between (competing fractions of)
capital and the state apparatuses which were divided by a variety of
political, ideological and economic concerns.
Gramscian and Althusserian influences, by the early 1980s, had
begun to influence writings on ‘race’ in Britain (e.g. Hall et al. 1978;
Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies 1982; Miles 1982). But the
ultimate, determining weight of capitalist class relations over ‘race’
remained fundamentally unchallenged in these analyses, despite a
relatively early revisionist intervention by Gabriel and Ben-Tovim
(1978). It was the late 1980s and 1990s that witnessed a more funda-
mental modification of the ‘race’–class orthodoxy. Writers such as
Gilroy (1987), Feuchtwang and Cambridge (1990) and Anthias and
Yuval Davis (1992) emphasized the variability of the ‘race’–class
relationship and, in some contexts, the way in which ‘race’ may play a
role of equal weight to class forces or even override class relations. The
significance of the fact that both class relations and racism exist and
develop in gendered forms has also been increasingly highlighted. Thus,
the understanding of the meaning of racism has undergone a considerable
shift since the time Sivanandan wrote his seminal essay. This issue is
discussed in more detail later.
The need to reconceptualize fundamentally the relations between
class, racism, sexuality, gender and the state has been a feature of my
recent attempt to shift the rigid grids of Marxist and Weberian frame-
works even further, by incorporating concerns that have come to the
fore in recent debates about ‘modernity’ and ‘postmodernity’ and
‘colonial discourse analysis’ (Rattansi 1997; 2000). One prominent
feature of a new ‘postmodern frame’ which I have proposed is an
emphasis on the futile dogmatism of theoretical frameworks which
necessarily assert the priority of class over ‘race’ and processes of racial-
ization, or vice versa. Instead, we need to theorize the complexity, con-
textual variability and constant interrelationship between various
forces. In particular, I have emphasized the significance of sexuality

and its manifold imbrications in relations of class and ‘race’, and in
state functions of governance (see especially Rattansi 2000). I have
found the work of Foucault on ‘biopolitics’ and other issues parti-
cularly productive, a point expanded later in this chapter.
Here, I will elaborate briefly upon what I have called the ‘postmodern
frame’ and some of its implications for the analysis of racism in its
various forms. Then, in the rest of the chapter, I propose to rewrite,
again in an abbreviated form, the narrative of Britain’s post-Second
World War immigration policies from the perspective of the new. In the
course of this rewriting I shall draw heavily upon the archival research of
historians and sociologists who have been reading cabinet papers relat-
ing to the 1945–50 Labour government and the 1951–55 and 1956–63
Conservative governments (Dean 1987; 1993; Carter, Harris and Joshi
1993; Harris 1993). Some attempts have already been made to revise the
Sivanandan narrative in the light of these historical excavations, but
they go little beyond arguing that the state has played a more
autonomous role vis-à-vis capital in immigration policy than was
hitherto realized, and that ‘race’ has thus been a more prominent
structuring force (Miles and Satzewich 1990; Solomos 1993).
Instead, I intend a far more thorough-going revisionism which is
theoretically underwritten by my ‘postmodern frame’. What follows is
a heavily compressed account of this framework and some indications
of its implications for the understanding of racism.
A ‘postmodern’ framing of Western capitalist modernity
The title of this section indexes several key defining elements of my

approach and will perhaps prevent a number of misinterpretations which
are provoked whenever the term ‘postmodern’ makes its appearance.
First, I shall return to the point registered in the introduction that
the term ‘postmodern’ appears consistently in quotation marks. This
signals a number of reservations and qualifications that accompany my
use of the notion. For one thing it signifies that this is an unsatisfac-
tory term in so far as it implies a ‘stagist’ framework carrying in parti-
cular the implication that somehow ‘we’ inhabit an epoch that is
beyond and radically discontinuous with the era of Western modernity
inaugurated after the imperialist expansion of the West, the intel-
lectual ferment of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century scientific
revolutions and the European ‘Enlightenment’, and the era of liberal
democracy initiated by the French Revolution.
50 Ali Rattansi
Instead, the framework I am proposing argues, echoing to consider-

able extent the position of Bauman (1991; 1992), that the ‘post-’
signifies the emergence of serious and widespread debate and doubt
concerning the Enlightenment-type claims about the capacity of
Western Reason to make nature and society transparent in a form that
allows a high degree of certainty in the manipulation of nature and
social relations. Moreover, the qualifying quotation marks are explic-
itly designed to suggest that doubts about the capacity of Western
modernity to deliver the typical Enlightenment promises have been
present more or less since the beginning of the project of modernity,
doubts that were particularly strongly expressed in the work of
Nietzsche and the Romantic Movement; and even by some key figures
of twentieth-century social science, such as Weber or the Frankfurt
School (see, among many others, Owen 1994).
The title of this section also points up my claim that one of the key
elements of continuity between the modern and the ‘postmodern’ condition
lies not merely in the survival but the almost hegemonic role of some version
of capitalism in the global social (dis)order. Inevitably, this also means
that some or other variety of class inequality remains a crucial element of all
nation states and requires detailed attention in relation to processes of racial-
ization. In two recent publications I have indicated some of the ways in
which class can be ‘brought back in’ to (‘postmodern’) social analysis,
and the understanding of racism (Rattansi 1997; 2000). I have also
emphasized the continuities between the ‘old’ and ‘new’ racisms
(Rattansi 1994: 54–6), thus further cementing my claim that a strict
stagist discontinuity between the modern and the ‘postmodern’ is
being rejected in my framework.
It is intrinsic to my perspective that, as Lyotard put it, the ‘postmod-
ern is undoubtedly part of the modern’ (1984: 79); elsewhere he
describes the ‘post’ of postmodernity ‘as a process of ana-lysing, ana-
mnising, of reflecting’ with regard to the modern (Lyotard 1986: 6). On
the other hand, I concur with Derridean, Foucauldian and hermeneutic
critiques of aspects of the instrumental and positivist legacies of
Enlightenment rationality embedded in Western modes of discourse. I
am referring in particular to the manner in which conceptions of
reason have become imbricated with binary oppositions between
subject and object, male and female, culture and nature, such that the
first term in each of these binaries assumes a superiority and separation
from the second term (see Hekman [1990] for a particularly good
discussion of these issues). The above might also be described in part in
Giddens’ terms as a radicalization of the reflexivity of modernity, that
is, as a period marked by anxiety stemming from serious doubts about

the Enlightenment faith in the capacities of Reason and the certitude
of Progress (Giddens 1990; 1994).
There are several other key features of the ‘postmodern’ framing of
Western capitalist modernity. One is the use of the notion of Western
modernity as analytically separate, to some degree, from Western capital-
ism. In this context, one element is the highlighting of the relative
autonomy of the Enlightenment project and its forms of individualized
and institutionalized instrumental rationality as part of the intellectual
and cultural formations of the West. Although the Enlightenment
project’s commitment to universalism and instrumental rationality was
clearly an important element of the formation of Western capitalism
(Gray 1999), this has taken different forms in the actual institutional
organization and cultures of capitalisms in Western nation-states.
Moreover, the (‘Western’) Enlightenment-derived notion of embedding
Reason in the very fabric of modern society was, if anything, even
more strongly institutionalized in the (‘non-Western’) Soviet project of
scientific socialism, with its ideas of comprehensive rational planning.
I also wish to draw attention to three particular dualities of Western
modernity, dualities which have a contingent rather than necessary rela-
tion to the development of capitalism. The first is the somewhat oppo-
sing pulls of the formation of liberal democratic institutions of public
political representation and of the emergence of disciplinary complexes
of bureaucracy and power in state apparatuses and civil society. The
second duality concerns the simultaneous excitement of rapid change
and the anxiety about social and natural environments seemingly out of
control. And, finally, the continuous destabilization of ‘old’ identities
and the constant reinvention of ‘traditions’ and thus the formation of
new identities, often in the guise of very old identities and rituals.
Each of these dualities has implications for the understanding of
processes of racialization in the West. For example, consider the politi-
cal freedoms and representative institutions provided by liberal democ-
ratic polities to organize against racisms embedded in racialized state
bureaucracies such as those involved in education, the allocation of
housing and immigration. Or note the tendency to displace and per-
sonalize the anxiety of rapid change onto ‘alien’ communities along-
side the tendency to create sites and narratives of heritage, and
therefore (new) ‘age old’ identities, which exclude the part played by
colonial encounters in the formation of these heritages, whether of
architecture, design, language or intellectual disciplines such as the
sciences and mathematics (Rattansi 1997).
52 Ali Rattansi
This connects with a further defining feature of my proposed ‘post-

modern’ framing: the role of Western modernity’s Others, encountered
in imperialist and colonizing projects, in actually constructing identi-
ties for the West in a process of opposition to the supposed characteris-
tics of the Others. The idea of ‘race’ played a crucial role in the
formation of Western identities, allowing the Western ‘races’ to be
defined as civilized, rational, masculine, Christian, active rather than
passive, and so forth, and therefore provided with a rationale for sub-
jugating, governing and exploiting the inferiorized ‘natives’ and
‘savages’. I have deployed Derridean deconstructionist strategies to
unpick the formation of such identities (Rattansi 1994).
Before moving on to other features of my ‘postmodern’ framing, it is
worth noting that a Foucauldian element hinted at above, the role of
disciplinary apparatuses of power/knowledge in governmentality, will
receive much greater attention at the end of this chapter, where I shall
focus on this aspect in understanding the formation of British immigra-
tion policy.
It is now necessary to address what, in poststructuralist language, I
refer to as the ‘decentring’ and ‘de-essentialization’ of both subjects
and the social, a set of analytical moves that have a profound
significance for the manner in which processes of racialization may be
understood. The decentring of the subject implies that the individual is
no longer conceptualized as a fully coherent, ‘rational’, self-knowledge-
able agent capable of direct access to reality and truth. Instead s/he is
theorized as having potentially multiple identities, differentially activ-
ated in specific social contexts, because of the pull of often contra-
dictory subject positionings. Access to ‘reality’ is always mediated and
transformed by the necessary role of discourses involved in the descrip-
tion and understanding of the character of nature and the social
(although this should not be distorted into the notions that ‘there is
no such thing as reality’, or that the world outside the individual does
not set constraints on what can be known and discovered).
Social formations are no longer regarded as tightly-knit complexes of
institutions with necessary forms of connection or logics of develop-
ment – there are no final determining instances such as the economy
or a priori determinations by social class or race, and certainly no laws
of motion as posited in most versions of Marxism. Social collectivities,
such as classes and ethnic groups, are also decentred in these analyses,
proposing that unification of such collectivities is always historically
contingent and the result of political projects of hegemony, which
always remain only partially successful. Thus classes, ethnic groups and
other types of social collectivity cannot be said to be ‘actors’ on the

political stage in any simplistic manner.
In the analysis of racialization, at least three consequences can be
alluded to. Individuals are no longer seen as racists tout court, but as open
to other forms of subjectivity and practice, especially in liberal demo-
cratic polities where notions of equal opportunity, formal equality,
citizenship, ‘fairness’ and the unacceptability of ‘prejudice’ are also insti-
tutionally and culturally embedded, playing a part in the interpellation
of subjects. Instances of these contradictions and tensions abound. A
corollary of this form of conceptualization of the subject is that singular
ethnic and national identities are also under constant pressure from
alternative forms of cultural, political and economic identification.
A second consequence, registered above, is that it cannot be taken for
granted that racialization will follow the dictates of the ‘needs’ of capital
or that class forces and formations will always override the pulls of racism
and ethnic and nationalist identifications. As we shall see, this has con-
siderable relevance for Sivanandan’s thesis on race, class and the state.
Note also that the concept of ‘institutional racism’ can be formulated
only in a particular fashion, if the social is de-essentialized in this way.
Racisms within institutions such as schools, workplaces or the police
force cannot be assumed to be operating in a monolithic, reproductive
fashion, but must be seen as always subject to interruptions by non-
racist and anti-racist individuals and practices. Moreover, the racisms
will always be found coexisting with processes involving class, gender
and sexuality to prevent any easy identification of ‘purely’ racist
actions, procedures and institutional and individual practices, as for
example in encounters between white male and female teachers and
black male students and female Asian students (see Mirza 1992;
Rattansi 1997; Sewell 1997).
The decentring of subjects is also a consequence of the reconsidera-
tion of the ‘psychic’ and the ‘social’ involved in my version of ‘post-
modern’ framing. Individuals are presented as constitutively split
between a conscious self and the disruptions of unconscious desire,
emotional detachments and hostilities, psychological projections and
introjections, and the operations of ambivalence, fantasy and paranoia.
Again, the implications for any understanding of the processes of
racialization and ethnic and national identification are profound, in
particular by way of preventing any easy fit between social locations
and ascriptive memberships of particular cultural groups, on the one
hand, and personal identities and actions on the other (see, among
many others, Kristeva 1991; Rustin 1991).
54 Ali Rattansi
A ‘postmodern’ framing also requires serious engagement with issues

of sexuality and sexual difference as theorized in poststructuralist
and ‘postmodern’ feminisms, especially the destabilization and
de-essentialization of the categories of ‘women’ and ‘men’, and the
deconstruction of simplistic binaries of sex/gender and public/private
(Riley 1988; Butler 1990; Hekman 1990). Equally important is an
understanding of the sexualization of ‘race’, and the complex inter-
sections between ‘race’ and ‘sex’ as analysed in a number of key contri-
butions. The great significance of this particular set of issues will
become apparent when I reassess the Sivanandan thesis in the next
section.
The incorporation of questions of class and sexuality in processes of
racialization leads to the broader theme of the de-essentialization and
decentring of ‘race’ and racism. A major implication of the form of
analysis advocated here is that ‘race’ and racism never appear in a
‘pure’ form. As argued above, they are always imbricated with relations
of class and sexuality. Equally importantly, I argue that as a concept
‘race’ bears a family resemblance to concepts of nation, ethnicity and
even religion such that any particular instance of racist discourse and
practice is likely to bear the traces of other boundary markers (Rattansi
1994). The form of racism that is expressed on any particular occasion
will thus depend upon the degree to which an idea of ‘race’ as based
on fixed biological ‘stock’ is combined with more culturalist notions of
nation, ethnic group and religion. Hence the need always to speak of
racisms rather than racism tout court in the manner common when
Sivanandan was writing.
Temporality and spatiality should be seen as equally constitutive of
the operations of the ‘social’, and of processes of identification and
identity formation. Temporality is particularly important within the
historical narratives involved in the creation and re-creation of identi-
ties, which often confine selected communities to a pre-modern and
therefore ‘uncivilized’ stage (Fabian 1983). Spatiality is also constitutive
of identities in so far as these are bound up with particular geograph-
ical locations, landmarks and landscapes which foster intense
emotional attachments through processes of what might be called
‘emplacement’ and which create powerful senses of ‘belonging’ and
‘home’ (Keith and Pile 1993; Back 1996). It is hardly necessary to point
out how crucially these emotions are imbricated in racialized, ethnic
and nationalist movements and conflicts. They are also central to an
understanding of the dynamics of diasporization (Hall 1990; Gilroy
1993; Clifford 1997; Cohen 1997).
Finally, a ‘postmodern’ framing involves an exploration of the pro-

found impact of new phases of globalization, theorized as uneven
processes, but as corrosive of old national boundaries and playing a
creative role in the formation of new, hybrid, syncretic transnational and
deterritorialized identities (Appadurai 1990; Hall 1991; Tomlinson 1999).
In the account that follows, I shall draw selectively upon the new
framework and upon insights from the Gramscian Marxism of the
1970s and 1980s, concluding with brief remarks on how the interrela-
tionship between ‘race’, class, gender, sexuality and the state might be
further illuminated by a neo-Foucauldian ‘postmodern frame’.
Postwar immigration: the significance of ‘race’
Cabinet documents relating to both the Labour administration of

1945–51 and the Conservative government of 1951–55 reveal deeply
racialized responses to the arrival of black and Asian immigrant
workers. While both administrations appeared to adopt the laissez-faire
immigration policy attributed to them by Sivanandan and other earlier
commentators, the archives reveal considerable hostility to black
migrants, frequent discussions of the desire and need to keep them out
of Britain, and the implementation of a large variety of administrative
manoeuvres and measures to keep black immigration to a minimum.
The broad similarities of response as between Labour and Conservative
administrations mean that for present purposes their policies can be
discussed together in this analysis.
The strong elements of racialization in both administrations are
evident in a range of reactions to the initial and continuing arrival of
‘coloured immigrant’ workers. News of the departure of the SS Empire
Windrush in June 1948 with over 400 Jamaicans on board, bound for
Tilbury, was greeted with dismay by Labour Cabinet ministers. It
emerged that there had been frantic backstage lobbying in Jamaica to
prevent just such an event (Dean 1987: 317). Attlee immediately
branded the potential immigrants as ‘undesirables’, a claim particularly
odious considering that most of those on board were skilled, had saved
up relatively large sums to pay for their passage and included many
ex-servicemen who had served in Britain during the war. Plans were
laid to make the new arrivals feel as unwelcome as possible: temporary
accommodation was provided in a reopened wartime shelter at
Clapham North underground station, and the message was strongly
conveyed to them that even this meagre hospitality was being offered
for a brief period. This, after Attlee’s desperate suggestion that the
56 Ali Rattansi
potential immigrants should be diverted to East Africa, there to work

on what turned out to be a disastrous groundnuts scheme, was rejected
as unacceptable (Dean 1987: 317–18).
The hostility and anxiety provoked by the impending arrival of the
Jamaicans contrasts strongly with the encouragement provided to
attract European refugees to work in Britain. All the evidence points to a
racialized response, which overrides class whether in the sense of the class
origins of the migrants or the putative needs of capital.
Once the Jamaicans had arrived, Colonial Office functionaries were
despatched to the colonies to put pressure on Governors to prevent
further migrations. Advertisements were placed in local papers to con-
vince potential migrants that any job opportunities they may have
seen advertised were only ‘paper vacancies’, briefly available while
white indigenous workers were moving jobs (Harris 1993: 22).
There was considerable discussion, too, of the supposedly innate
‘racial’ characteristics of black and Asian populations which made them
unsuitable for work in British conditions and, by strong implication, for
full inclusion in the British nation. Even before the Empire Windrush had
docked, the Ministry of Labour had warned that, on the one hand,
workers from the Caribbean were unsuitable for outdoor work in the
winter because of weak chests and lungs, and, on the other, equally
inappropriate for the ‘too hot’ conditions of the mines! (Harris 1993: 22).
Indeed, an elaborate racial typology, developed in the course of
governing the empire, came into play. This included notions such as
‘mentally slow’ black women, West Indians as more ‘stable’ than West
Africans, and a variety of differentiated mental and physical capacities
among workers of Indian and Pakistani origin (Carter, Harris and Joshi
1993: 60–1). ‘Coloureds’, moreover, were regarded as variously lazy,
feckless and quarrelsome. And lest one is inclined to believe that such
judgements sat ill with Labour’s support for independence and self-
government in the colonies, we should note the considerable evidence
amassed by Knowles in her study of Labour’s discourse on ‘natives’
that the capacity for full citizenship and self-government was seen to
be thinly distributed in the colonies, with criteria framed by concep-
tions of proximity to Western modernity: degree of industrial develop-
ment, ‘stage of civilization’, and so forth (Knowles 1992). A proneness
to criminality was posited as a further reason to prevent black immi-
gration, and fears were expressed about the development of a ‘new
Harlem’ in Liverpool (Dean 1993). The last two points bear testimony
to my arguments regarding the centrality of temporality and spatiality
in discourses and practices of racialization.
The racial concern over criminality fed into two other racially charged
anxieties. One focused on the fear of immigrants sponging off the newly
created welfare state (Dean 1987; 1993). Equally significant was the
sexualization of the various elements of racism already in play. This took
at least two major forms. First was the the old fear of miscegenation and
the creation of an inherently abnormal, racially mixed population.
Second, there were equally long-standing fears of white women’s sexual-
ity, especially when in potential contact with the black male’s reputed
sexual proclivities and prowess. White women were placed in what
appears to have been a four-fold bind. Either bands of marauding white
women were supposedly travelling round the country looking to live off
‘naive’ (read: child-like, a temporalizing infantilization) ‘coloured’ men
(Dean 1987: 308–9); or they were prone to being exploited by black
pimps in the inner cities (Carter, Harris and Joshi 1993). Alternatively,
the younger ones were feared to be wildly attracted to black men’s
exploits on the dance floor, with their ‘superb sense of rhythm and their
natural ease of keeping time with the music’, as a Mass Observation
study reported (Dean 1987: 311). It was also asserted that there would be
‘serious trouble’ (Dean 1987: 322) if white women and black men
worked in close proximity – presumably because either the women
would object, or the black men could not be trusted to behave in a
proper manner. This was the usual white male anxiety over the conse-
quences of unregulated contact between white women and black men,
both being the dreaded sexual Other of the white man’s fragile ego.
These issues are difficult to address without recourse to an understanding
of how identities are formed in relation to those regarded as binary
opposites, and also without recourse to psychoanalytic frameworks for
the understanding of sexual difference and identity formation as indi-
cated earlier (see also Rattansi 1994). In other words, the fears and
anxieties unleashed by the presence of the black and Asian men, docu-
mented above, are better understood if aspects of the ‘postmodern’
frame are deployed, as in this brief account.
State, capital and labour: interrogating the political

economy of immigration
Class and the ‘economy’, then, were hardly the sole structuring
influences on post-1945 British immigration policy. Various forms of
sexualized racism played a significant role, acting as points of conden-
sation for a range of long-standing white anxieties, with class, too,
being sexualized via the supposed waywardness of white women of the
58 Ali Rattansi
lower orders. Here one can see the intersection between internal and
external Others, the dangerous classes and their women as the enemy
within, in possible alliance with the uncivilized Others of the non-
European worlds.
Arguably, though, much of the conventional Marxist political
economy of immigration as found in Sivanandan’s essay could in princi-
ple remain analytically unscathed, although somewhat diminished in
weight for purposes of explanation. But this is not so. A major plank of
that political economy of immigration was, of course, the overwhelming
weight given to economic determinations. However, this economism,
while theoretically premised on Marxism, also derived from the belief
that until the period immediately prior to the 1962 Immigration Act the
state had followed laissez-faire policies required by the needs of capital.
To demonstrate that the façade of laissez-faire was indeed only the front
of the stage, while behind the scenes frantic attempts were being made
to reduce drastically the flow of black and Asian immigrant labour, is to
throw serious doubt on the harmonious relationship between state and
capital. Key state departments were, on the contrary, it seems, behaving
economically in a most illogical manner, although by following the dif-
ferent ‘logics’ of a deeply sexualized racism. ‘Race’ and sexuality, then,
might be seen as at least equally important considerations in state immi-
gration policies, strongly rivalling the ‘economy’ and the ‘needs of
capital’ as determining influences.
There are several other reasons for doubting the basic claims of the
conventional political economy account. First, the key assumptions of
a ‘labour shortage’ should be critically unpicked. Conventional
wisdom has it that there was a labour shortage, that this was mainly
in unskilled work with poor pay and hazardous and arduous condi-
tions, and that these ‘pull’ factors determined the concentration of
black and Asian workers in particular manufacturing sectors and occu-
pations. By ‘freely’ letting in ‘coloured’ workers and allowing the
labour market to work, the state was meeting the requirements of
capital and facilitating the super-exploitation of black and Asian
workers. As against this, however, note the following: as early as 1949
the Ministry of Labour had argued that there was no longer a
significant labour shortage. Also the evidence now indicates that
qualified or potentially qualified black and Asian workers were deliber-
ately channelled away by labour exchanges from skilled jobs or from
the training schemes which generally allowed white workers to obtain
the skills that then enabled them to take up the better jobs (Dean
1987: 321–4; Harris 1993: 30–1). Even the much cited instances of
direct labour recruitment by London Transport and British Rail can

now be seen not as state-supported schemes but rather as projects
which fed into a significant debate within the state about the needs
and interests of capital and the national economy (Dean 1993). There
were those who believed that the real problem was overmanning and
that the importation of foreign labour allowed manufacturers to con-
tinue production with outdated machinery; the ‘real’ long-term inter-
ests of capital and the national economy would be better served by
restricting immigrant labour and encouraging automation and new
technology instead. The recruitment drives in the Caribbean and else-
where by London Transport and British Rail by no means received
unanimous official sanctioning.
Second, throughout the period leading up to the 1962 Act there
were conflicts and considerable differences of approach between the
Colonial Office and the Ministry of Labour. The Colonial Office con-
sistently urged caution about the surreptitious administrative mea-
sures against black immigration being adopted by other arms of the
state. Its officials were concerned that Britain’s role as head of the
Commonwealth would be seriously weakened by protests if there was
obvious discrimination against black workers, while white foreign
labour was encouraged and unregulated. This chimed in with the
postwar beliefs of Labour and Conservative governments that Britain’s
dominant position in world politics would survive only as head of a
strong and united Commonwealth. Moreover, it was recognized at
governmental level that Britain could hardly argue against the
growing entrenchment of racism in South Africa if its own policies
towards the black Commonwealth could be exposed as discrimina-
tory. Nor did Britain want to alienate the white dominions by in-
advertently drawing attention to their ‘white only’ immigration
policies to which Britain was turning a blind eye. Moreover, legal
restrictions could not be imposed against black workers from the
Commonwealth without applying them to white Australians and
Canadians, and there was no intention of hindering the inflow of the
latter. The Colonial Office was also anxious that racist treatment of
black immigrants, and the failure to address the problem of discrimi-
nation faced by black students in Britain would increasingly encour-
age communist sympathies among present and future political leaders
in the black Commonwealth. In arguments with the Ministry of
Labour and the Home Office, members of the Colonial Office were apt
to point to Britain’s culpability in colonial underdevelopment and
unemployment (Dean 1993).
60 Ali Rattansi
In other words, the state cannot be considered a monolithic entity

supremely guided by the needs and interests of capital, a point often
made in the 1970s and 1980s by neo-Gramscian analysts of the state.
There were contrary political pressures within the state for the mainte-
nance of an ostensibly laissez-faire policy, despite any possible econ-
omic reasons for curbing black immigration, and these need to be
understood in the context of wider constraints and ambitions con-
nected with Britain’s international role.
During the 1950s the Conservative government often discussed the
option of a more direct restriction of black immigration, especially as
pressure from the Tory grass roots began to build up. Uncertainty over
the economic needs of capital, and possible international political
repercussions provide part of the answer to the question: Why did
Britain delay a formal limitation of black immigration until 1962
despite serious, racialized misgivings about the arrival of ‘dark
strangers’, the term Sheila Patterson used in her study of 1950s ‘race’
relations in Brixton (Patterson 1965)?
Other pieces of the jigsaw were provided by the conflicting pressures
of domestic electoral politics. These were particularly effective in con-
straining the 1950s Conservative administrations. While there was
mounting Tory anxiety about ‘the colour problem’ and its possible
consequences, and thus reason to institute legal restrictions on black
immigrants, Conservatives were wary of conceding the high liberal
moral ground to Labour who, the Conservatives surmised, would be
quick to seize upon the racism that would now be exposed. This was a
source of worry only because the Conservatives widely believed that
the Labour landslide of 1945 had been possible because of the support
of the ‘liberal middle classes’; to institute formal controls would be to
risk alienating this constituency again and handing power back to
Labour (Dean 1993).
Endnotes: Marx, Foucault and black immigration
The delaying of formal controls on black immigration until 1962, in

the face of the evidence discussed above, can hardly be viewed as the
outcome of a tight and well-oiled synchronization between state action
and the interests of capital, as portrayed in Sivanandan’s narrative. On
the contrary, the process was marked by uncertainty regarding the
requirements of the national economy and contrary pressures, both
domestic and international. And pace Solomos and Miles, and the neo-
Gramscians, the conclusion to draw from the new research is not
merely that the state can be seen to have exercised a certain ‘relative
autonomy’ or that the state was subject to conflicting demands from
fractions of capital, labour and ‘popular’ pressure (Miles and Satzewich
1990; Solomos 1993). Rather, an appreciation of the forms in which
racism and sexuality intersected with more conventionally recognized
‘economic’ and ‘political’ pressures, in a process in which it is impos-
sible to assign precise, separate weightings to each of these forces,
implies the abandonment of the endless and unproductive debates
about the primacy of class and ‘the economy’ over ‘race’, but also sug-
gests the rather limited nature of the theoretical advance marked by
Marxist conceptions of the ‘relative autonomy’ of the state.
I have suggested at various stages in this chapter the significance of
the analytical insights to be gained by viewing the post-1945 period, in
relation to immigration policies, through a ‘postmodern frame’, which
gives due contextual weight to the complex imbrications between
racism, class and sexuality, temporality and spatiality, the category of
modernity, and so forth. Notions of ambivalence and contradiction,
which are also key themes in my ‘postmodern frame’, suggest an
understanding of the complex ways in which Labour politicians, in
particular, both supported moves towards colonial independence on
principled grounds and yet responded with dismay, resentment and
hostility when faced with the prospect of the ‘natives’ actually arriving
to take up their place as citizens of the ‘mother’ country.
It is worth concluding with the point that the way in which post-
1945 governments and various branches of the state responded to
black immigration makes even more sense if Foucault’s insights into
the operation of modern Western ‘bio-politics’, ‘discipline’ and govern-
mentality are more elaborately incorporated into the other elements of
the ‘postmodern framing’ deployed earlier (Foucault 1978; 1979;
Cousins and Hussain 1984).
‘Bio-politics’ and discipline refer to the set of functions and processes
which became inscribed in the formation of the modern Western state as
it undertook to manage the ‘social body’, the national population, by
targeting the formation of individual bodies through the production of a
series of complexes of knowledge/power: mental asylums, hospitals,
schools, prisons, factories, poorhouses, army barracks. Techniques of
organization and the deployment of new knowledges (medicine,
psychology, criminology, eugenics, political economy, pedagogy, archi-
tecture, urban planning) were intertwined in ‘policing’ the population,
rendering bodies disciplined, docile, politically governable, economically
more productive and spatially ordered into cities and within buildings.
62 Ali Rattansi
The differentiation of bodies and groups of bodies became part of

processes of ‘normalization’ which set up discourses and practices of
inclusion and exclusion, defining the ‘abnormal’, the ‘pathological’ as
requiring particular targeting, segregation and separate treatment,
while at the same time instituting powerful, subsequently taken-for-
granted dominant notions of the ‘normal’.
Order and disorder, conceptions of cultural assimilability or absolute
cultural difference, health and disease, potential for bodily discipline and
productive capacity all became intertwined in the ways in which the
state formed and set about reforming the national population. Foucault
certainly did not ignore class and the economy, registering the state’s
concern with governing the ‘lower orders’ and enhancing the produc-
tivity of the population and economic organizations as important con-
cerns in his accounts of the formation of Western modernity.
However, it is notorious that Foucault had little to say about ‘race’
(although see Stoller 1995). But it is not difficult to see how ‘race’ was
increasingly a key aspect of state discourses and practices of govern-
ment, from the attempted restriction of Jews from Eastern Europe via
the Aliens Act 1905, the anxiety over the deficiencies of British stock,
especially among the working class, as revealed in medical examina-
tions for the Boer War and subsequently for the First World War, and
the myriad conceptions of Oriental and African racial otherness which
were intertwined with colonial rule (Rattansi 1994).
The salience of the racialized anxieties around miscegenation, black
criminality, black and white sexualities, concerns over the health and
bodily and mental capacities of black and Asian people, all of which
fed into the internal debates over black immigration within the state,
can be better appreciated if freed from the straitjacket of a ‘needs of
capital’ paradigm and viewed instead as part of governmentality, the
much wider process of management or ‘policing’ of the population
which Foucault analyses so well.
The supposed ‘needs’ of capital, then, can be seen to provide only
one set of considerations for the way in which Labour and
Conservative administrations and various branches of the state
responded to and attempted to control the flow of black and Asian
immigration into Britain after 1945. The significance of the 1958 ‘race’
riots in Nottingham and London’s Notting Hill Gate gave much greater
prominence to anxieties over the ‘public order’ consequences of black
immigration which had always accompanied the other concerns.
While there is dispute about the precise significance of the disturb-
ances in Nottingham and Notting Hill Gate in hastening the prepara-
tion and passing of the 1962 Immigration Act, there can be little doubt
about the general interconnections between the state’s concern over
public order and the restriction of black and Asian immigration. The
consistent and explicit linking of restrictive immigration policies to the
better management of ‘race’ relations by both Labour and Conservative
governments gives weight to the much wider lens provided by a neo-
Foucauldian/‘postmodern’ framework which treats class and the
economy as one among a set of forces which, in different contexts,
exercise varying influence on policy formation.
Universalist pronouncements on the necessary primacy of class over
‘race’ seem increasingly implausible, especially when understood in the
light of analyses which demonstrate how ‘race’ became intertwined
with policy issues around youth, the family, the welfare state, criminal-
ity, unemployment, inner-city decay, housing, poverty, education and
homosexuality in the period from the 1960s to the present (Layton-
Henry and Rich 1986; Solomos 1993; Smith 1994). General confidence
in the possibility of definitive theories of class has also declined, even
among those who had previously espoused Marxist sociology;
Crompton (1993; 1998) furnishes a good example of such a trend. On
the other hand, proclamations from self-styled postmodernists about
the ‘death of class’ (Pakulski and Waters 1996) are greatly exaggerated
(see Rattansi 2000).
To stage historical and current debates in terms of the ‘race’/class
binary is likely to yield limited understanding of the dynamics of
racialization and their complex operation in the context of contempo-
rary social conflicts and state policies. It is time to stretch the para-
meters of the ‘race’/class debate decisively, but not uncritically, beyond
forms of political economy, and into a terrain which is gradually being
explored and mapped by the newer and as yet underdeveloped
‘postmodern’ turn.
Note
1. For discussions of the differences between ‘production’ and ‘market’ theo-
rizations of class, see, inter alia, R. Crompton and J. Gubbay, Economy and
Class Structure (London: Macmillan 1977), and A. Rattansi, ‘End of an
Orthodoxy? The Critique of Sociology’s Interpretation of Marx on Class’,
Sociological Review, 33 (1985).
4
Gender, Ethnicity and Social
Stratification: Rethinking
Inequalities
Floya Anthias
Introduction
The growth of interest in non-class forms of social division and iden-

tity, accompanied by an increasing focus on ethnic and gender
inequalities (Therborn 2000), characterizes contemporary sociology.
However, this has not been accompanied by a rethinking of social
stratification theory; the latter is still generally seen to be about econ-
omic inequalities organized on the basis of class (Scott 2000). In this
chapter, I will argue that material inequality is informed by claims and
struggles over resources of different types, undertaken in terms of
gender, race and ethnicity as well as class.1 This position allows us to
include these categorical formations, alongside class, as important
elements of social stratification, i.e. as determining the allocation of
socially valued resources and social places/locations. I will also develop
the concept of social division, which I believe is a useful concept for
understanding social inequalities, particularly in the light of the prob-
lems of traditional stratification theory with dealing with non-class
forms of inequality.
There is no doubt that gender inequalities have been widely explored
and theorized, and the theoretical means for understanding these have
been appraised and developed substantially (for example, see Pollert
1996; Crompton 1997; Bottero 1998; Reay 1998; Gottfried 2000). This
is also the case for ethnic inequalities (for example, see Modood et al.
1997, and the discussion later in this chapter). Moreover, the relation-
ship between gender, ethnicity and class is an important debate in
sociology today (for example, Anthias and Yuval Davis 1983; 1992;
Brah 1996; Bradley 1996). There have been attempts to measure or
understand the correlation between class position and gender or ethnic
64
Gender, Ethnicity and Social Stratification 65
position, such as the extent to which women and men tend to be con-
centrated into particular occupational clusters and economic groupings
(for a good summary on gender and class, see Crompton 1997). These
correlations have been explained in terms of factors such as cultural or
personal choices, the existence of social constraints such as sexism or
racism, the sexual division of labour in the household, the existence of
dual labour markets, and the idea that women and ethnic minorities
constitute a reserve army of labour (for a summary of these debates, see
Anthias 2001a). There is also a great deal of literature that attempts to
refine the notion of class by developing neo-Marxist or neo-Weberian
concepts, such as those of the ‘new middle classes’ or the ‘service class’
(for a good summary, see Scott 2000). However, these developments
have not led to a substantial revision of traditional stratification theory.
The dominance of ‘class’
There is a long tradition of treating class as coterminous with social

stratification or at least as the social division and relation that struc-
tures material inequality. Marxists emphasize class as a relation of
exploitation which takes place in the sphere of the production and
reproduction of economic resources. Classes are perceived as mutually
dependent within the productive system, and potential forms of
collective social organization in relational conflict, underpinned by the
relations found within the economic structure. Class conflict is seen as
the motor of history, and thus generating the movement from one
stage of human and social development to the other. However, in the
final analysis, little space is given to theorizing other forms of inequal-
ity and subordination such as gender and ethnicity, as significant
social forces in their own right. These are treated as the natural con-
ditions – as in Engels’ (1968) idea of the natural division of labour – for
human life, upon which class is built. Their embodied and constructed
forms are explicable by the processes found in the production and
reproduction of economic resources.
Social stratification has also been identified with forms of sociality and
economic inequality, relating to the sphere of the distribution, allocation
and exchange of skills and resources in the marketplace, within the
Weberian framework (Weber 1964). Such a framework, drawing similar
conclusions to Marxism about the centrality of the economic in the
domain of the social, none the less treats class inequality as a product of
the free exchange of skills and resources, rather than as a precondition of
the form that exchange takes. Social stratification, in this approach,
66 Floya Anthias
involves the construction of unequal life-chances or life-conditions.

Here, a distinction between class and status is made which is able to con-
sider ethnicity and gender in terms of status but not class relations.
Whilst the Marxist and Weberian paradigms still occupy a central
place in theorizing class relations, there has been significant develop-
ment and diversification within them. Contemporary debates on class
have focused on fragmentation and the growth of flexible and differen-
tiated labour markets. Developments in class theory have included
concerns with the boundary issue, that is with how to delineate the
boundaries among the various classes, the location of supervisory
grades and of the managerial strata, as well as the petty bourgeoisie. A
particular focus in Britain has been on employment relations and the
fragmentation of occupational categories, particularly through the
work of John Goldthorpe and his colleagues (Goldthorpe 1980;
Goldthorpe and Heath 1992), and it has been argued that class rela-
tions are strictly those related to the relations of employment. The
labour process (see Braverman 1974 and the debates around his work)
has been subject to analysis, and the growth of flexible labour markets,
as well as segmented labour markets, has been extensively researched
(Doeringer and Piore 1971; Dex 1987; Crompton and Sanderson 1990).
Despite acknowledging that gender and ethnic/race processes are rele-
vant in determining social positioning, many of these approaches have
been largely unable to think through the implications of this for their
traditional foci (Crompton 1993).
The recognition of multiple forms of inequality in modern societies has
led to attempts to find alternatives to the traditional stratification
approach by developing the essentially Weberian notions of social exclu-
sion and status. Concurrently, a whole industry has grown up round the
study of ‘social exclusion’, a term in the past associated with Max Weber,
but which few contemporary writers have sought to clearly define. This
term potentially broadens the foci of stratification to include political,
civic and cultural forms of stratification. Since the matter of exclusion
and inclusion spans a number of important parameters of differentiation
and stratification, this potentially opens the way (as Parkin [1979] noted)
to considering gender and ethnicity as aspects of stratification.
Social exclusion and the concept of status
One way out of the difficulties facing traditional stratification theory

and an acknowledgement of a crisis at its heart is this current concern
with social exclusion, potentially breaking the impasse found in the
concepts and debates that dominated sociology for so long. There are a
number of problems, however, worth highlighting in the analysis of
social exclusion (for an extended discussion, see Anthias 2001b). One is
the tendency to identify people as ‘the excluded’. Social exclusion
appears to be identified in many debates with social polarization (for
example, through focusing on those at the bottom rung of the
stratification order, such as the poor or the underclass). One of the
dangers is that it may reduce those subject to processes of ‘social exclu-
sion’ to passive victims or willing agents in their own denigration. In
much of Europe exclusion has been related to lack of social integration
or anomie, utilizing a Durkheimian problematic relating to the condi-
tions for social cohesion, and often being another term for poverty and
its effects (Berkel 1997). The danger here is a tendency to pathologize
and homogenize, and produce a disqualified identity. Moreover, it
could be argued that concentrating on ‘the excluded’ focuses too much
on the bottom of the scale and does not allow for looking at forms of
inequality and hierarchy more generally.
Another difficulty relates to treating inclusion as the opposite of
exclusion. This is clearly problematic as subordination, economic
exploitation and assimilation can be seen as forms of inclusion.
However, this does not mean that in the moral binary of exclusion as
bad and inclusion as good they can be fitted easily into the latter:
indeed, they are subordinating and disempowering forms of inclusion.
For example, being included in the workforce under unequal condi-
tions, as are many minorities, particularly undocumented migrants,
constitutes a disempowering form of inclusion which indeed may also
be referred to in terms of exclusion. Moreover, inclusion in one social
sphere such as the labour market can go hand in hand with exclusion
from another social sphere, such as the political process of citizenship,
as is the case for migrants and refugees in many states. Additionally,
not all can be included in everything. In other words, it is not possible
to treat exclusion and inclusion as mutually exclusive. Therefore, the
opposite of exclusion may not be inclusion (since inclusion can also
mean subordination), but perhaps should be seen as citizenship or
participation/representation.
The notion of status has been proposed recently as a way of thinking
about non-class forms of social hierarchy/stratification and as ‘relating
to the overall structuring of inequality along a range of dimensions’
(Crompton 1993: 127). This is also a position argued by Scott (2000).
This involves a reiteration and return to the Weberian notion that
status is about lifestyle groupings on the one hand, and the social
68 Floya Anthias
system of deference and honour on the other. Weber himself was clear
in seeing ethnic groups as particular types of status groups (Weber
1964). But treating them as ways for allocating prestige and honour or
as denoting life-style or consumption categories alone underestimates
their centrality in terms of the ways they enter material resource distri-
bution, allocation and power. In some current analyses, status has been
used to refer to a wide range of social relations including citizenship
rights (Lockwood 1996). The Weberian notion of status is being asked
to do theoretical work of a different order here. In Weber, it was used
to locate relations that affected life-chances within the marketplace as
well as positing a parallel but different basis for power. Certainly
citizenship rights constitute a place for formulating a range of condi-
tions about resource access and allocation, but the juridical and other
categories implicated are themselves highly gendered and racialized in
quite specific ways. The concept of ‘status’ is not able to attend to the
complex range of social relations involved here.
By treating non-class divisions as relating to status as Scott does, a
particular definition of class operates that identifies it with everything
to do with economic distribution and production. The conflation
between class and the economic is significant and places a hurdle in
taking gender and ethnicity seriously as modes for organizing the
distribution and consumption of resources. This approach assumes that
class processes are distinctively material: about the distribution and
consumption of economic value (in some cases linked to the production
process) singularly related to the marketplace or the labour market/
employment system. The binary that Weber constructs between class
and status is purely heuristic: here it is interpreted to refer to actual
groupings of people that can be allocated a position under two different
grids: those of economic resources, which produce class populations, and
those of life-style and honour, which produce status group populations,
such as women and racialized minority groups. But gender and ethnic
populations are not simply groups with differential life-style or social
honour: for their conditions of existence, given discourses, practices and
systemic institutional relations, actually mean that they enter into the
whole system of economic resource allocation.
Moreover, dividing people into permanent class and status groupings
simply does not work or have any heuristic value. This is because the
people in class groups are concurrently cross-cut by gender and ethnic-
ity. Moreover, treating gender and ethnicity as ‘groupings’ and then
allocating them to the ‘status’ category within a Weberian problematic
fails to attend to their specific characteristics and their differences,
both from each other as well as from other types of status groupings
such as occupational or consumption-based groups. When one looks at
processes for the production of unequal outcomes on the other hand,
one cannot use the class category alone, unless it becomes merely a
shorthand for all those processes that lead to outcomes of unequal
resource distribution. These problems do not imply abandoning class
but treating it as a heuristic device rather than about actual groupings
of people; that is, for sociological purposes rather than for auditing
purposes. Class, ethnic and gender attributions and competences are
centrally important in the marketplace, both as resources that individ-
uals bring to it, and also in terms of the allocation of value to the
places in the market (for example, see the discussion of skill in the
work of Phillips and Taylor 1980; Cockburn 1991).
Explaining ethnicity and class
Ethnicity and class, when paired together, have led to problems of

reductionism, where ethnicity becomes a disguise of class or its sym-
bolic manifestation. Marxist approaches may treat it as false conscious-
ness, where the real divisions of class take on symbolic forms. Ethnicity
may also be seen as being a way that classes organize (not as a disguise,
but as a vehicle), in order to struggle over economic resources, as in the
work of writers such as Hechter (1987). This is less reductionist, but
again ethnicity is treated as a dependent phenomenon, whereas class is
treated as being about ‘real’ resource claims.
Alternatively, twinning ethnicity and class may focus on the correla-
tions between the actors who occupy particular ethnic positions, and
those in particular class positions. This is to focus on how actors within
each coincide on scales relating to social position. As an example, black
groups who suffer racial disadvantage are then seen to occupy a parti-
cular class position or class fraction (Phizacklea and Miles 1980). Another
facet of this is to treat one as an effect of the other, in terms of the
influence of the valuation (and prejudice/racism/discrimination) that
accrues to particular ethnic positions, and how this is manifested in
terms of class effects or outcomes. Or it can be done in terms of the
mutually reinforcing disadvantages of ethnicity and class (Myrdal 1969).
These positions are problematic (Solomos 1986; Anthias 1990). One
underlying difficulty is that whilst the delineation of connections,
correlations, and so on between ethnicity and class are useful, as long as
there is a clear operationalization of the terms in substantive analyses, it
is much more difficult to specify the mechanisms at work. Moreover,
70 Floya Anthias
the attempts to find correlations assumes each one is homogeneously

constituted, has a unitary role and is mutually exclusive, implying, for
instance, that all class members belong to a particular ethnic group.
Many of the difficulties of these forms of analysis relate to the ways
in which class is seen to be a division marked by material difference,
and inequality of positioning around material resources, whether con-
ceived in the area of production or distribution (determined by rela-
tions of exploitation or by relations of the market). Ethnicity, on the
other hand, is treated as being positioned in terms of culture, or in the
symbolic and identificational realm, with particular behavioural or
action elements flowing from this. The lasting effect of these traditions
of exploring social inequality, through the primacy of the economic
realm, heralded by the Marxist framework and revised within the
Weberian tradition and the aftermath, have seriously skewed academic
conceptions of inequalities and social stratification. They have been
impediments to thinking about inequalities in a more holistic and
multidimensional way, and are premised on the ontological and episte-
mological primacy of economic/material needs and their social organ-
ization in human life.
The material and the cultural
The distinction between the ‘material’ on the one hand, and the
‘cultural/symbolic’ on the other, underpins the distinction made
between class and other social divisions. My view is that whilst it is
useful to hold on to these distinctions at the analytical level, however
fraught and difficult their delineation might be, they cannot be used to
posit a particular configuration of relations as the exclusive domain of
particular kinds of groupings of people. This is because material and
cultural/symbolic elements are to be found across all the social cate-
gories. Categories therefore may be distinguished not through the polar-
ity of the material and the cultural/symbolic realms, but rather in terms
of the specific forms these take. In addition, it is necessary to disassociate
the economic and the material from one another. Materiality is here
defined in terms of the production and allocation of socially valued
resources of different types. Once ‘the material’ is formulated around the
idea of resource allocation and hierarchical placement, with regard to
different types of socially valued resources (which can be cultural as well
as strictly economic: although economic resources may possess cultural
value and cultural resources may possess economic value), this allows
ethnicity and gender a definitive role in a theory of social stratification.
The significance of the economic lies in the production of value at

the level of reproduction of human life and as a central form of
exchange, and functions particularly as a primary context for all other
values, that is it is their necessary condition of existence. Where Marx
made that sphere the determining one, it is also possible to see it as an
a priori condition of existence for all the others, in terms of allowing
for the satisfaction of culturally determined survival and reproduction
needs. However, the same could be said of sex difference with regard to
biological reproduction as a prerequisite for human life, and the exist-
ence of solidary bonds as prerequisites of social and human life.
Moreover, although it appears incontrovertible that human beings
need to produce in order to survive, the economic is but one, albeit a
central and necessary resource, up to a certain level constituting a con-
dition of existence for the other resources. After this level, economic
value assumes a symbolic value. Marx himself was very clear on this,
and raised the issue of the symbolic (and indeed the psychic), from the
point of view of the fetishism of commodities. This insight, however,
was used to reinforce the argument of historical materialism. However,
it could be used to subvert it. For once commodities become fetishized,
they no longer function as mere material or economic value, but
assume a cultural and symbolic value. If this is the case, Marx is
acknowledging the important role of the symbolic and the cultural
within social stratification. The fetishism of commodities no longer
gives commodities mere economic value, either as use value or
exchange value, but endows them with human value and social worth.
Developing this insight can take us in the direction of recognizing
the importance, within stratification, of the role played by social value,
defined as symbolic, cultural and political, in terms of providing access
to socially valued resources and positionings. These are not imperson-
ations of the material, nor do they provide its conditions of existence
alone. They construct places and positions in terms of the allocation of
a range of social resources. Bourdieu’s (1990) notion of cultural capital
goes some way in acknowledging the role of cultural resources as a
form of capital. However, the analogy with capital is too focused on
how such resources might enter into providing access, in the final
analysis, to economic resources. But economic resources are not the
most valuable resource from the point of view of social positioning, at
least not in any essentialist way. Economic resources have to be
endowed with a symbolic or cultural value for them to be seen as
socially meaningful in producing social hierarchies relating to life con-
ditions and life-chances. Imagine a situation where money can buy a
72 Floya Anthias
big house, but cannot buy entry into a sports club or the formal rights
of citizenship. Or imagine where money or capital can buy workers,
and can thereby, through relations of exploitation, produce more
capital, but cannot buy social respect or membership of a community.
National lottery winners have access to economic value, but may not
be empowered politically, socially or culturally by this, despite the
power as consumers, or the freedom to live a life of leisure they may
acquire. In addition, cultural ideas about consumption values mediate
the mere notion of economic value. The value of a particular trainer or
eye shades is not solely dependent on the economic value they possess.
Advertising and marketing construct the value of commodities; they
do not have value in and of themselves.
From the point of view of capitalism as a social system, the focus on
the economic and its effects is vital, but this focus need not be retained
in the analysis of systems for the social allocation of resources and in
terms of social relations of hierarchization and inferiorization, impor-
tant elements of social division and stratification in modern society.
Even acknowledging the epistemological primacy of ‘the economic’, in
the final analysis, as Althusserian revisions of Marx have done
(Althusser 1969; 1971), does not require us to maintain this primacy in
terms of explaining the social allocation of resources to concrete indi-
viduals and groups. This discussion might indicate that Marx’s histori-
cal materialism is embedded in a framework that essentializes
economic value, rather than seeing it as socially contingent.
If this is the case, then material value is not only produced within the
sphere of production, the labour market and the economy, but is genera-
ted in relation to symbolic and cultural processes. Moreover, gender and
ethnicity involve the allocation of hierarchies of value, inferiorization as
well as unequal resource allocation (on their basis and not through the
intermediate relation of production relations). For example, women may
be paid less than men for doing the same job, or jobs that women do may
be allocated a lesser economic value. Being a woman or black can exclude
an individual from access to resources of a group such as male-dominated
occupations, or those defined as ‘masculine’, or defined by the state as
only appropriate for British nationals (such as top civil service jobs).
Life-conditions and life-chances
In light of the above discussion, I would like to explore the potential of

rethinking the distinction between the concepts of life-chances and
life-conditions, which I believe is a useful one. However, simultaneously,
the distinction between social outcomes and social practices/processes

needs to be maintained. This will provide an important diachronic
reference, incorporating both spatial and time dimensions.
Life-conditions reference how a person/group at a particular point in
time and space is positioned in social relations, in terms of structured
social outcomes relating to resource allocation and social placement.
Life-chances may be seen in terms of the set of predispositions and
opportunities structured by the placement of individuals within the
different ontological realms: of production (class), sexual difference
(gender) and collective formations (ethnicity). Life-chances provide the
overall context for the achievement of life-conditions. These life-
chances are not produced only through the allocation of individuals to
a role and position within the productive system, but also include allo-
cation and role within the production and reproduction of sex differ-
ence and biological reproduction (gender), and the production and
reproduction of collective bonds around notions of origin and destiny
(ethnicity). Therefore, although at one level life-conditions themselves
(that is, outcomes) give rise to life-chances, life-chances are also deter-
mined by a range of other social relations such as gender or ethnic
forms of opportunities and exclusions. The third aspect of stratification
is found in the dimension of collective allegiances and identities relat-
ing to struggle over resources. Such allegiances may be formulated
around ideas of class solidarity, gender solidarity or ethnic solidarity,
and cannot be restricted to class-based allegiances.
Such modes of organizing around resource claims may be a product
of the articulation between, on the one hand, life-chances (cultural
predispositions and structural opportunities/exclusions) and life-condi-
tions (the actual allocation of a range of socially valued resources). The
latter include the economic, the political and the symbolic/cultural.
The cultural can be seen both as artefact and as the place where valua-
tion is constituted; as a form of consumption of commodities as well as
the realm in which those commodities assume social value. This is
imparted to those that consume them and this figures in the construc-
tion of human worth.
There is no necessary coincidence between individuals who share
life-conditions, life-chances and collective solidarities. However,
sharing life-conditions with others alerts individuals to the disjunction
in their life-chances. Sharing life-chances (of class, of gender or ethnic-
ity) may alert individuals to the disjunction with life-conditions, and
makes more manifest systems of inequality. The solidarities formed
through these manifest disjunctions may produce a range of local
74 Floya Anthias
struggles, contestations and proclamations on the basis of organizing

around the category of class, or that of ethnicity or that of gender. On
the other hand, a coincidence in the individuals that share both life-
conditions and life-chances (that is, shared outcomes and shared exclu-
sions/opportunities), might have the effect of naturalizing the similar-
ity and lead to the formation of more permanent solidary groups.
These may or may not result in subaltern solidarities and resource
struggles of a more overarching kind; for example, antagonistic groups
of a more permanent type manifested in ethnic conflict based on
exclusion or usurpation (such as white dominant groups or national
liberation struggles).
Marx’s notion of the importance of the division between labour and
capital is central in the analysis of systems of production, at the holistic
level, but the analytical privileging of the economic cannot work in
explaining the life-chances, conditions or solidary formations of concrete
and determinant individuals and groups. This is because other cultural,
symbolic, political and juridical factors mediate the abstract level that
Marx is concerned with. This also applies to Goldthorpe’s analysis of
employment relations as being the key to stratification relations. Such
employment relations are end-products of processes but are not them-
selves explanations for the allocation of resources of different kinds to
individuals and groups, according to the approach that I have outlined.
Boundaries of ethnicity, gender and class
The issue of boundaries relates not only to the difference in the bound-
ary between class, gender and ethnic groups, but also to the boundary
between one social class and another, as well as one ethnic group and
another. The issue of the boundaries for defining particular class group-
ings has been a long-standing concern in class theory, with its prob-
lematic of homogeneity of positioning within class groupings. On
what dimensions do people have to share (or have similar) functions,
conditions, life-chances or solidarities to be placed in one social class
rather than another? A concern in contemporary class theory has been
particularly with defining the boundary between the petty bourgeoisie
and the working class as well as bourgeoisie (for example, see
Poulantzas 1973; Carchedi 1977; E.O. Wright 1985; Scase 1992).
The issue of boundaries for defining ethnicity exists at two levels: in
terms of the ethnic as a boundary (Barth 1969; Wallman 1979; Anthias
1992) rather than a set of cultural diakritika; and the problem of who
can be classified as belonging within the boundary, that is the criteria
by which entry and closure take place. Issues are raised about who does
the classifying, what uses this is put to and what its effects are. Within
any particular population there are boundaries around both one set of
diakritika and around others. For example, the diakritika used for
placing individuals into gender groups are different from those used to
place them into ethnic and class groups. Individuals, therefore, will not
always be placed together using the same diakritika.
Putting the two terms of unities and divisions together helps us to
see that within any unity there are also divisions, and within any divi-
sions or boundary points, there are unities. The constructed rather
than essential or fixed nature of the boundaries becomes clear.
Different markers may be used to define the boundaries. This is raised,
for example, by the debate on the category black and the shift from
seeing it as incorporating both Asians and Afro-Caribbeans, to seeing it
as describing only Afro-Caribbeans (see for example, Modood 1988;
Brah 1991; Anthias and Yuval Davis 1992; Anthias 1998b).
Alternatively, it may be used as a form of self-identification and not
dependent necessarily on ascriptive criteria, or may be used as a politi-
cal identity. A group may be defined, at different times, in terms of
culture, place of origin or religion. For example, Jews may be seen as a
cultural group, as a diaspora with a reclaimed homeland (Israel) or as a
religious community. Greek Cypriots may be seen as either Cypriot or
Greek. These are labels, as well as claims, that are produced socially and
enter into the realm of assertion, contestation and negotiation over
resource allocation, social positioning and political identity. There are
three related aspects, therefore, raised by this discussion of unities and
boundaries: the shifting and contextual nature of the boundaries that fix
the unities; the processes which give rise to particular symbolic and
material manifestations of the social categories; and the ways in which
the social categories intersect in producing social outcomes for individu-
als and for social structures.
The boundaries of the categories can be identified in terms of relational-
ity/dichotomy, naturalization and collective attributions (Anthias 1998a).
Relationality constructs difference and identity in terms of a dichotomy or
binary opposition between those within and those outside the boundary.
Within the category of ethnicity, for example, the outcomes of ethnicity
may be treated as causal, therefore bringing us to naturalization. For
example, ethnicity is seen to be at the root of explaining entrepreneurial
behaviour among some Asian groups. Collective attributions function to
homogenize: for example, the gender category uses the attribution of
sexual difference and ideas of its necessary social effects to treat all
76 Floya Anthias
women as a unity. The categories of ‘race’, ethnicity and class also

homogenize. The individuals within may be treated as though they are all
the same and sensitivity to difference, contradiction, diversity and multi-
plicity may be absent.
In terms of social outcomes, ethnicized, racialized and gendered
relations involve a set of exclusionary mechanisms relating to hierar-
chization, unequal resource allocation and inferiorization. Hierarchization
relates to the ways in which the categories construct places or positions
in the social order of things. Sometimes this involves the allocation of
specific social roles such as occupational (caste and class) or familial
(gender) but more often than not these are accompanied by a pecking
order of roles and places. The principle of unequal resource allocation,
despite the problems of the class analogy, in general, stands. This is not
only because of the wealth of empirical evidence that shows that many
women and ethnic minority groups suffer disadvantages in the labour
market (see Anthias and Yuval Davis 1992): these are well known. It is
also because unequal resource allocation also involves the issue of
power at the political, cultural and representational levels. Gender,
ethnicity and ‘race’ are structured in terms of unequal social relations.
Regarding cultural resources, for example, such as language, education
and religious values, there is no doubt that the dominant ethnic, ‘race’
and gender groups within the state have privileges in terms of cultural
production and reproduction. The principle of inferiorization involves
the construction of ‘otherness’, normality and pathology and relates to
the ways in which one side of the binary divide is seen as the standard,
as the norm, as expressive also of the ideal. The yardstick for the indi-
vidual where gender is concerned, becomes male capacities or achieve-
ments, male needs or interests. This is one example of the assumptions
that underlie the specification of binary social categories.
Ethnicity, gender and class are grids for conceptualizing unity, differ-
ence and division, and involve social and political representations
(rather than constituting concrete or permanent groups). Class
classification starts off from the allocation of individuals, sorting their
competencies on the basis of criteria of marketability of skills, compe-
tencies, property and knowledges. Membership of individuals in ethnic
and race groups is also determined by the possession of criteria of
entry, but using other markers, such as colour of skin or language.
Individuals are attributed levels of competencies on that basis, maybe
extrapolating from certain tendencies of the group and seeing these as
inevitable rather than as a product of social relations. In other words
competencies are endowed a posteriori on the basis of already meeting
other criteria of entry. In real labour markets the two systems are inter-
twined: in the first case what is regarded as a marketable skill may be
dependent on who possesses the skill (for example, the market value of
medical degrees may go down if the people who have them are
endowed with intrinsically lower social worth or are regarded as not so
deserving: feminization and ethnicization of occupations may lead to
this syndrome).
A significant difference is that in the case of class there is no natural
reproduction posited, although individuals may be seen to inherit
characteristics from their parents which means that they may be
regarded as fated to be members of a particular class. But movement in
or out is seen as a product of individual capacities. In the case of
race/ethnicity and gender, there can be no movement in and out in
terms of capacity. The capacity is written into the very classification.
However, we should note that Cohen (1988) has argued for the racial-
ization of class as has Miles (1993).
Gender and ethnicity may be given the characteristics of marketable
attributes in the marketplace. For example, where the marketplace
requires sexual attributes, ranging from explicit sexual services such as
prostitution or surrogacy, to personality traits or physical traits, then
gendered characteristics may sit with education or technical skills, that
is as resources which individuals can bring to the marketplace and use
for determining their life-chances. The human capital approach to
social stratification in a sense does this, although in its traditional form
it has not treated gender and ethnicity in this way. In terms of ethnic-
ity, knowledge of certain cultures including language or other inter-
active behaviours may be skills that allow entry into the market and
subsequently become constitutive of class positioning.
Concluding remarks
The above discussion treats forms of subordination as complex. Recent

debates have moved away from the specification of categories as
unities and divisions. In the area of ethnicity and migration, for
example, there has been an interest in what has been called trans-
ethnic, transnational and hybrid identities (Hall 1990; Gilroy 1993;
Brah 1996; Anthias 1998b). I do not have the space nor is it my aim
here to explore this area. I want to note it with regard to the develop-
ments in class theory that focus on contradictory and hybrid class posi-
tions (as in the work of E.O. Wright [1985] for example, and the
debates around Carchedi [1977] and Poulantzas [1973] on the lower
78 Floya Anthias
middle classes). I want to focus on contradictory locations in a differ-

ent fashion: as a way of connecting together class, ethnicity and
gender. Recognizing the material and symbolic facets of each enables
us to do this much more effectively than in the past.
Social divisions single out specific kinds of attributes for the filling of
the places. Therefore, the debate about stratification as a question of
places, and stratification as a question of population groupings needs
to be rethought in the light of the ways the places on the one hand
serve to single out attributes for those to fill them, and the ways in
which the attributes of those who fill the places over time, will serve to
mark out the location of the places within the hierarchical system.
Thus, a time/distance perspective needs to be introduced into the
analysis, as the process of structuration of positions and groupings is a
dynamic and relational one. Moreover, all individuals occupy places in
each one of them so that they are not mutually exclusive. But the attri-
butions, psychic identifications and claims may vary greatly, some of
which may be seen as forms of resistance as well as external construc-
tions and social attributions. To be proud to be woman/feminine,
black/minority ethnic (or disabled, Oliver 1995) is to refuse the attribu-
tion of a hierarchical otherness. Moreover, identities are multiplex,
contextual and situational.
Therefore, in terms of social relations that are hierarchical, it is not
purely a question of a hierarchy of individuals within a category. For
example, in the category of race, where the distinction between, say,
white and black is constructed, the white is dominant over the black.
The white is able to reproduce advantages and privileges and reproduce
the evaluative components of whiteness. However, within this con-
struct, there exist class differences and gender differences that interplay
with those of race to produce hierarchical outcomes for individuals.
These may lead to complex forms of hierarchy across a range of differ-
ent dimensions. If the constructs are read as ‘grids’, their salience will
not only vary in different contexts, but the interplay of the different
grids needs to be always considered in any analysis of social outcomes
or effects (Anthias 1998a).
The social categories of differentiation and stratification (and I hold
the view that differentiation always entails an evaluative process)
involve both processual social relations which are analytically distinct,
and embodied social outcomes which are difficult to disaggregate.
However, through substantive analysis, it is possible to investigate how
social categories can act, either to reinforce one another mutually or to
set up contradictory locations for social actors (Anthias 1998a).
Therefore, there are two simultaneous sets of contradictory locations:

on the one hand, those from within the very categories of class, gender
and ethnicity (in the sense of conflictual social relations structured in
and through antagonism, exploitation and subordination), and those
between them (in the sense of the different places constructed for indi-
viduals by each of the ontological positionings). For example, white
working-class men have a different position with respect to ethnic and
gender hierarchies than with respect to class hierarchies, when com-
pared to black middle-class women. Contradictory and in-between
positions construct identities and actions that constitute important
points of departure for understanding the dynamics of social stratific-
ation, on the one hand, and social integration on the other.
In this chapter I have argued that it is necessary to develop an analy-
sis which is able to understand unequal social outcomes. Within my
analysis, the social outcomes for specific persons and specific constella-
tions of persons is a product of the interplay, within determinate
time/space dimensions, of the processual features of social relations
identified through the heuristic device of the ontological spheres or
domains of gender, ethnicity and class.
Note
1. This chapter draws extensively on Anthias (2001a; 2001b).
5
Muslim Voices: Class, Economic
Restructuring and the Formation
of Political Identity
Pandeli M. Glavanis
Over the last two decades major changes in the nature of work and
employment have occurred on a global level. The restructuring of the
global economy, for example, along with the growth of transnational
companies, favours decentralized production and a cheap and flexible
workforce employed on a casual basis (Glavanis 1996; Sassen 1991).
Casualized labour is not marginal to the modern industrial economy,
which is dependent on these earnings, yet workers are marginalized
within society. Casual workers, however, are often denied all employ-
ment rights and are exploited by their employers, who are in turn
pressured by the manufacturers, to obtain the maximum level of pro-
duction for minimum levels of pay (Fekete 1997). Furthermore, public
discourse and policy-making have converged, so as to highlight some
of the negative effects of the drive to enhance economic growth and
competitiveness. In particular, this convergence has highlighted the
manner in which this may have contributed to an increase of the
social exclusion and marginalization for different social groups and
communities within the European Union. This chapter explores this
argument with reference to one community, European Muslims
(immigrants and settlers), who constitute one of these vulnerable and
marginalized groups, and who appear to have experienced discrimina-
tion in the labour market and the societal effects that have followed
the drive for economic competitiveness and the concomitant increase
in flexible employment practices.
The focus on European Muslims also derives from a concern to
deconstruct an increasingly popular account, which has gained
currency within the field of academia and among policy makers at the
local, national and European level.1 This is the essentialist account of
the recent emergence and increasing visibility of Muslims within the
80
Muslim Voices 81
European Union, which, it is argued, derive from a loyalty to an

anachronistic and traditional Islamic culture, which is incompatible
with modernity. As such these accounts have contributed, albeit inad-
vertently, to the emergence of a new form of ‘racism’ within Europe:
Islamophobia (Glavanis 1998; 1999). Furthermore, such accounts
suggest that European Muslims are able to make use of their particular
cultural capital (Islam) in order both to minimize the effects of econ-
omic restructuring as well as exploit niche markets within the chang-
ing European economy. This, it is argued, allows European Muslims to
temper the effects of this economic restructuring and thus, contrary to
received wisdom, negate some of the socio-economic ramifications of
their social exclusion and marginalization, which may have intensified
due to the economic restructuring process.
Such accounts, however, raise a number of conceptual and empirical
concerns, which will constitute the focus of this chapter. First is the con-
ceptual paradox where an apparently traditional and anachronistic
culture (Islam) constitutes the particular social capital that allows (some)
European Muslims to compete successfully in a very ‘modern’ and con-
temporary phase of capitalist development. This in effect raises the issue
of the extent to which it is appropriate, conceptually at least, to perceive
of Islam as a socio-cultural set of values that are incompatible with
modernity. Second is the assumption, derived almost entirely from
aggregate quantitative economic indicators, that because some European
Muslims are able to mobilize and exploit their particular cultural capital,
they in effect are less vulnerable to certain forms of social exclusion and
marginalization. Instead, this chapter will explore the emergence of
Muslim Voices within Europe in an analytical account, which gives con-
ceptual privilege to an articulation of the two recent processes noted
above: globalization and economic restructuring, and the formation of
Islamic political identities on the European political canvas.
The term Muslim Voices is used in this chapter to highlight the diver-
sity in the way in which European Muslim settlers exemplify their
socio-cultural identities in the different locations where they reside.
This should not be confused with the concept of Political Islam, which
is also used. The latter term represents a very particular political ideo-
logy, which is a global ideology shared by only a small minority of the
European Muslim settlers. Unfortunately, this is the fundamental con-
fusion, perpetuated by Western media and even academic accounts
which tend to assume that all European Muslim settlers who exemplify
an Islamic socio-cultural identity are also adherents and supporters of
the political ideology.
82 Pandeli M. Glavanis
Muslims in Europe: the stranger within
For more than a century Western social science accepted that the
assimilation of cultural and religious identities into a national society
was a necessary precondition for socio-economic and political develop-
ment. In fact, diverse and competing ethnic and religious communal
identities were seen as a primary factor in dividing postcolonial societies
and hindering development. European scholars perceived ethnic and
religious identities as inimical to rational social planning and econ-
omic development, and instead highlighted the classical European
model where, it was assumed, modernity had eroded communal identi-
ties in favour of citizenship and loyalty to the state.
Furthermore, conventional European social sciences also assume
that communities of immigrants, settlers and/or ethnic origin will
invariably follow a course characterized by the privatization of reli-
gion, which it is also assumed is the case in the ‘host’ societies.
Nevertheless, Political Islam in Europe, Central Asia and the Middle
East, since the 1970s, has continued to furnish evidence for the
salience of ethnicity (and religion) as an organizing principle for
political action. This is forcing a number of scholars in different areas
of the social sciences to rethink the long-standing theoretical and
conceptual models regarding the relationship between ethnic and
religious identities and citizenship/nationhood. This was particularly
the case in 1989 and after the fall of the Berlin Wall. For, as Gilles
Kepel has noted:
With the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, an entire way of
conceptualizing the twentieth century world disappeared. At a
stroke not only the confrontation between east and west, but also
conflicts between social classes expressed politically in the left-right
opposition became obsolete … . However, along with the end of the
old order symbolized by the wall, 1989 also brought events which
signalled new dimensions reflecting some of the contradictions of
the world to come … in Britain’s rundown inner cities working-class
Pakistanis burnt copies of The Satanic Verses … . France, instead of
uniting in celebration of the bicentenary of the 1789 Revolution
and the values it proclaimed, was rent by divisions as it had not
been since the Dreyfus affair, over an apparently trifling incident:
could French society allow three Muslim girls (living in an under-
privileged city suburb) to wear an Islamic veil to attend state school?
(Kepel 1997: 1)
Muslim Voices 83
The analytical significance of exploring the emergence of Muslim

Voices derives from the fact that these new socio-political and cultural
movements have established themselves outside the ‘space’ where
Islam has traditionally been presented as a socio-political ideology and
force. Thus it has also blurred the long-standing ‘us and them’ view
held by most Europeans, as they have had to accept within Europe the
existence of substantial settler communities of Muslims: four million in
France, two million in Germany and just under two million in Britain
(using conservative estimates). Western scholarship, of course, has
addressed the issue of Political Islam and its role in reshaping political
space in the Middle East, Asia and other parts of the non-European
world (see Said 1978; Ayubi 1991). What it has failed to do, however, is
to consider the extent to which it can also constitute an alternative
basis for the mobilization of a global political order, and thus its ability
to affect political organization within Europe. In other words, can Islam
and especially contemporary Political Islam exemplify a non-Western
way in which political space can be organized and thus challenge the
‘European’ (Westphalian) state system, which emerged during cen-
turies of socio-political and cultural struggles that were grounded in a
Judeo-Christian tradition (Allen 1995; Beeley 1995)?
A consideration of the failure of Western scholarship to consider seri-
ously the possibility of any other socio-cultural tradition as being
capable of influencing changes on a global scale is of course beyond
the limitations of this chapter. Nevertheless, it is important to quote
Peter Worsley’s comment on this matter. Following an extensive analy-
sis of various theoretical and conceptual models of the nation-state,
Worsley notes that
none of the models so far discussed take[s] culture into account. All
of them are variants of one kind or another of political economy,
though without a cultural dimension it is impossible to make sense
of a modern world in which nationalism, religion and inter-ethnic
hostility have been far more important than internationalism
and secularism. Models based on political economy alone, there-
fore, are quite incapable of explaining such phenomena as the rise
of a modern version of Islam, which is wrongly labelled
‘Fundamentalism’ … . The modern world has been shaped by cul-
tural communities, from the Catholic Church and Islam to secular
ideologies and movements like communism which transcend the
boundaries of even the largest and most centralized state. (Worsley
1990: 92, 94)
It is for the above reasons that the primary analytical objective of this
chapter is to place on the European social research, intellectual and
political agenda issues which are relatively submerged at the present
time. This is to locate the study of Political Islam and Muslim Voices
within the European Union in an analytical framework which will
distance itself from the commonly held assumption that the Western
European narrative has an overriding importance in the analysis of
modernity (Asad 1993). Instead, I argue that the study of European
Muslims and the manner in which they express their socio-political
and cultural identities should be located in an analytical framework
where they are ‘agents of their own history’, albeit within a broader
global socio-political and economic structure. In this respect this
chapter moves beyond the thesis presented by Worsley, which tends to
privilege, even if only conceptually, the specific cultural dimension
over the global economy and its implications.
Thus, in the first instance such an alternative account must highlight
the broader canvas on which the varieties of European Muslim Voices
have made their mark. For although European Muslims should not be
subsumed analytically into the Western and European narrative, the
analysis of Political Islam cannot be located outside the path of the
modern juggernaut of global capitalism (Asad 1993: 5). In other words,
we need to highlight the economic, social and political structures
within which European Muslims have adopted the vocabulary of
Political Islam as a means of expressing their identities and bringing
attention to their narratives. It is only then that we will be able to con-
sider whether Muslim Voices are incompatible with the vocabulary of
modernity (if at all), and the extent to which (if at all) European
Muslims have succeeded in tempering the socio-economic effects of
globalization and economic restructuring.
Globalization, flexible employment and marginality
The increasing globalization of economic, political and cultural

processes has profound research and policy implications. Issues con-
cerning European competitiveness, policy and social stability must
now be viewed in the context of the internationalization of social and
economic life. Furthermore, the establishment of trading blocs in
Europe, North America and South East Asia has created a global ‘golden
triangle’. As the respective states in these regions are unable to mani-
pulate trading relationships in order to win competitive advantage,
they seek instead to maintain an advantage by reference to supply-side
Muslim Voices 85
policies. Thus, in all European countries the encouragement of entre-

preneurial activity, the development of new skills and, in particular,
the introduction of new forms of work organization (flexibility in
employment practices) have become major issues on the policy agenda
(Brown and Crompton 1994).
These changes, however, have also been accompanied by even more
important transformations in the nature of employment relations and
practices. By far one of the most important changes here is the dramatic
decline of the power of trade unions as significant social partners and
the concomitant decline in union membership. As traditional unionized
manufacturing industries have closed and high levels of unemployment
have emerged, especially among white skilled males, so the bargaining
position of unions has all but been eliminated from the social contract.
In their place managements have emphasized the importance of increas-
ing the ‘flexibility’ of their workforces, for example by employing at
least some of their workers on contracts of employment which are ‘non-
standard’ in the sense that they offer less than full-time employment
and/or are not open-ended in duration (e.g. part-time, temporary and
fixed-term contracts) (Brown 1992; 1997).
In this respect it is possible to suggest that workers’ experience of
work during the last two decades is characterized primarily by three
interrelated elements: insecurity and precariousness of employment;
the intensification of work in the workplace; and the increasing
demands by employers for greater flexibility in employment practices
(Brown 1997). Insecurity in employment has been maintained by the
increasing high levels of unemployment in many European Union
states and the intensification of work can be seen in the heavier work-
loads, longer and more demanding working hours, unsocial shift work
and an increased pace of production.
It is not surprising, therefore, that it is increasingly immigrants (legal
and illegal) who are prepared to work under such conditions. It is
important to note, however, that the increasing reliance on immigrant
workers during this phase is significantly different from the postwar
period when Europe looked to cheap immigrant labour as a way of
rebuilding its shattered economies. This was very much the case in such
sectors as textiles, car manufacturing, electrical industries and metal
manufacturing. Nevertheless, as these older industries have gradually
disappeared from the economic landscape, immigrant workers have
been confronted with diminishing alternatives and have thus had to
accept the more casualized and flexible employment opportunities in
the new economic activities (primarily in the service and clothing
sectors). Thus, as the expectations of secure jobs in these ‘older’ indus-

tries have been replaced by insecurity and unemployment, immigrant
labour has had to adjust its own aspirations and make important econ-
omic behaviour decisions with regard to individual and household
survival.
The significant element concerning this new situation is that flexi-
bility in employment practices also means a flexible supply of labour.
In other words, it has led to an increased demand for temporary immi-
grant labour in order to maximize the competitive advantage of these
European industries, which are compelled to compete in an increas-
ingly globalized economy in which supply-side costs are the only
elements that can be controlled. In this context, settler immigrant popu-
lations constitute more of a burden than an asset and this is in distinct
contrast to the postwar era, when they were a central component in
the rebuilding of the national economies. The social cost (housing,
health care, welfare, and education) needed to sustain a settler immi-
grant population is, of course, the central issue here. There is only one
way, however, in which such a dilemma can be resolved: reduce or
remove the citizen and resident rights from settler immigrant popula-
tions (especially from new immigrants) and thus render their stay in
European countries precarious and contingent. Thus, a variety of new
regulations need to be introduced which would ensure that only those
who are legally entitled can and do benefit from the welfare regimes in
each of the European countries. The problem, of course, is how these
various legal entitlements are defined and implemented.
Given the above, it is not surprising that one of the most striking
and visible characteristics in the cities and regions of most European
states is the presence of increasing numbers of immigrants (and their
descendants) and the particularly high rate of unemployment among
these groups (Cross and Waldinger 1997; Modood et al. 1997). As
Malcolm Cross notes:
Migrants who arrived in many European cities from former colonies,

or those recruited under gastarbeiter systems in the 1960s and the
early 1970s, originally revealed very low rates of unemployment.
After 1980, this pattern changed rather dramatically and migrants
and ethnic minorities are now strongly over-represented in the ranks
of the long-term unemployed … . In Germany, for example, older
industrial cities on the Ruhr have undergone de-industrialization
with major job losses in then traditional sectors of mining and steel
production. In Frankfurt in 1970 the foreign population was 11.8%
Muslim Voices 87
while by 1994 had risen to 29.2% … this rise was not due to foreign
bankers arriving to work in global finance; the fastest growing groups
in the period from 1986–1994 were Yugoslavs, Moroccans and Poles.
(Cross and Waldinger 1997: 1–2)
Similar patterns can be observed in a variety of other European cities.

What is important to note, however, is that although there is a visible
rate of high unemployment amongst immigrant workers, there is also
a very visible increase of their numbers; even in the context of de-
industrialization and the dramatic decline of the traditional industries.
In Greater London, for example, immigrants constituted 20 per cent of
the population in 1991, compared with 9 per cent a decade earlier. At
the same time, immigrants are more strongly represented among
London’s unemployed than they were a decade ago, both because they
are more numerous and because they appear to have been dispropor-
tionately affected by the downturn in economic fortunes affecting the
UK capital at the end of the 1980s. Thus, the Bangladeshi population
(a high proportion of whom are the migrant generation) have seen
unemployment rates rise from 16.7 per cent to 35.8 per cent within
one decade (Cross and Keith 1993).
Saskia Sassen, amongst many others, has presented an explanation of
what appears to be a sociological dilemma: the continuous increase of
immigrants in a context of a dramatic decline of productive economic
activity that had attracted them in the first place. Sassen argues
convincingly that the hallmark of such a social phenomenon is the
dramatic growth of low-level service jobs, usually accompanied by
short-term labour contracts, privatized services, part-time work, a
growing dependence on female labour and a general informalization of
economic activities (Sassen 1991). Similarly, Cross and Keith and
Modood (1997) have also argued that these European cities and
regions, which exemplify an expanding informal sector, have also con-
stituted the location where immigrants have embarked into entrepre-
neurial and self-employment activities.
These accounts, which explore the relationship between the persis-
tence of thriving informal economies and state policies favouring pri-
vatization and free competition, also highlight the extent to which
competitive market forces are tempered by the way in which immi-
grant populations fall back upon ‘ethnic identities and loyalties’ and
use them to engage in a social dialogue with the state. What is not
clear, however, is the origin of these ethnic identities and loyalties and
their relationship, if any, to modernity and the process of globalization
and economic restructuring. Sometimes the dynamic and changing

nature of global economic systems is acknowledged. But we must also
consider the extent to which these dramatic changes may also have a
role in conditioning ethnic identities, especially the way in which they
are mobilized with respect to particular engagements with the state or
other economic competitors.
It is wrong to assume that marginalized immigrant and/or settler
communities derive economic decision-making from presumed cultural
value systems that are said to be associated with particular ethnic and
religious identities. There can be a tendency to polarize ‘rational’ with
‘culturally determined’ behaviour without exploring the interaction
between the two. Cultural religious and ideological values may be tem-
pered by economic opportunities and may be mobilized as specific
responses to particular policies. We should, therefore, consider the way
in which cultural, social, religious and personal values, structural economic
changes and opportunities, and state policies and incentives may come
together in order for a decision to be made or for a particular form of
behaviour to be articulated. We need an analytical approach, which
highlights the points at which these three intersect and thus consider
the dynamic relationship between the individual, the economy and society.
Muslim workers in Europe: a case study2
This section derives from research carried out within a European (TSER)
sponsored project entitled Muslims’ Voices in Europe: The Stranger Within,
which was conducted in eight European countries (Belgium, France,
Holland, Germany, Greece, Italy, Switzerland and the UK), during the
period 1996–99. The project carried out quantitative and qualitative
research and examined both the cultural and economic dimensions of
the formation of identity among Muslim settler communities. The ana-
lytical framework highlighted the relationship between social exclusion
and marginalization and the emergence of the politics of identity across
the eight European countries and thus presented an account of the
diverse socio-economic, political and cultural backgrounds, which gave
rise to the different ‘Muslim Voices’ identified by the project.
Evidence from the research project suggests that atypical working
patterns, in conjunction with low wages and labour market immobil-
ity, are responsible for an atypical social life and conditions of poverty
for many Muslims3 in Europe, resulting in marginalization or exclusion
from society. Although Muslims across Europe occupy a wide variety of
positions and levels in most sectors of the economy, there is a high
Muslim Voices 89
concentration to be found at the lowest end of the job market. Many

hold part-time, flexible, temporary jobs and are invisible in statistics.
Recent immigrants are often employed as unskilled or semi-skilled
workers due to a lack of language skills and/or qualifications, or due to
the intention of returning home. In Germany, for example, migrants
are largely employed in mining, manufacturing, commerce, hotels,
restaurants and construction. As heavy industry and manufacturing
have been particularly affected by the restructuring of the economy,
migrants are also most adversely affected by job losses. Seasonal
workers employed in the agricultural sector, hotel and building trades
in Switzerland are recognized to have the lowest status, living without
their families on low wages and in poor housing conditions. In Greece
and Italy, migrants find seasonal work as builders and unskilled indus-
trial and agricultural workers, or work in the retail industry. In the
United Kingdom, different minority groups tend to be concentrated in
different industries; South Asian Muslims, for example, are concen-
trated in the textiles and clothing industry and, more generally,
in transport and communications. While in the United Kingdom only
3 per cent of all women work in the textile and clothing sector, for
South Asian women (predominantly Pakistani and Bangladeshi – i.e.
Muslim) the figure increases to 13 per cent. Similarly, whereas just over
1 per cent of all men work in this sector the figure increases to 7 per cent
for South Asian men, with a very high concentration of Bangladeshis.
Again many of these data are available (especially in the United
Kingdom) as data about ‘minority ethnic groups’; in the typically
Muslim groups they are also likely to be recent migrants and their chil-
dren. There are also Muslims, particularly women, many of them recent
migrants, employed in the service sector in many European countries, as
hotel and restaurant workers, domestic help, cleaners and porters.
These workers often do not have contracts, health insurance or
holiday entitlement and are forced to work long hours for low wages.
There is a low representation of Muslims in senior positions and man-
agement levels in most European countries. In the United Kingdom,
where there are a considerable number of Muslims employed in the
medical profession, these statistics mask the fact that they are often
employed in inner city areas with a lack of resources. The perception of
Muslims in Belgium as a problem-generating social category, plus the
division of society into ethnic classes, maintains the low status of
Muslim workers. Furthermore, increased restrictions are placed on
immigrants due to immigration policies and employment regulations.
In Switzerland, for example, only Swiss nationals can be employed in
the public sector. In Greece, undocumented Albanian migrants are

unable to receive welfare benefits despite making social security contri-
butions through labour market activity.
Muslims in Europe are also more strongly represented among the
unemployed. In the United Kingdom, even in cities with relatively
small minority populations, they account for a disproportionately large
number of the unemployed. The proportion of young unemployed
men among ethnic minorities is considerably higher than for young
white men, even with the same levels of education and qualifications.
It is also higher among Muslims than some other ethnic minorities. In
London, for example, unemployment among Bangladeshis rose from
16.7 per cent to 35.8 per cent during the Census period 1981–91, and
while there was a similar increase among Pakistanis, the increase for
Indians was from 11.4 per cent to 11.8 per cent.
These statistics are similar in the other European countries. In
Germany the sectors with the highest levels of unemployment are those
with the highest proportions of Muslim immigrants; whereas the rela-
tionship between the unemployment rates of Turkish workers and
Germans was 5 per cent as compared to 3.8 per cent respectively in
1980, by 1997 it had risen to 20.45 per cent as compared to 11 per cent.
Thus the relative unemployment rate for Turkish workers in 1997 had
increased to 85.5 per cent, as compared to 31.6 per cent in 1980. A high
level of unemployment is therefore common amongst immigrants,
despite the fact that the majority of the immigrant population are of
employable age. In Switzerland, permanent resident migrants are three
times more likely to be unemployed than Swiss nationals. In Italy,
although long-term unemployment is not a common problem for
Muslim workers, the majority change or lose jobs frequently, leading to
precarious employment (see also Daly’s account in chapter 9).
As a consequence of the difficulties in securing employment in the
formal sector, they become over-represented in the informal economy.
The informal economy covers a wide range of activities, some legal and
others illegal, including tax evasion, unpaid economic activities under-
taken for the household or friends, the criminal economy or any
profitable activity undertaken outside of legal obligations. Employers
exploit the lack of alternatives available to immigrants by using clan-
destine workers who are cheaper and more flexible than legal labour.
Illegal labour often corresponds to illegal residence and this is also
reflected in the crime statistics: the number of resident immigrants
sentenced in Switzerland is 1.3 times higher than among Swiss citizens
of the same age and eight times higher among asylum seekers, the
Muslim Voices 91
differential here mainly due to infractions of the Federal Law on the

Stay and the Establishment of Immigrants. Asylum seekers and refugees
in Germany cannot work without a work permit; in Switzerland they
must wait for three months from filing the application, and in both
cases they therefore often become hidden, illegal labour. Immigrants
from outside the European Union, for example Turks in Germany, have
limited conditions of residence in the European Union and can easily
become illegal workers due to pressure to engage in atypical employ-
ment. Homeworking is increasingly common, but often crosses the
border into illegality with respect to safety conditions and rates of pay
or because the income is undeclared. The situation in the Netherlands
reflects the blurred distinction between the informal and formal sectors,
which means that legislation can be difficult or unfavourable to
enforce; but it appears that those who profit most from the informal
economy are young and well skilled, rather than illegal workers with
little education, who are also forced to the lower end of the informal
economy.
It is not surprising, therefore, that the research project identified a
significant rise in Muslim entrepreneurship in all of the eight European
countries within which the project was carried out. Faced with a lack of
employment options, self-employment can be interpreted as a way to
avoid exclusion from the labour market; the fact that the levels of self-
employment increase with a rise in unemployment would appear to
illustrate this. In the Netherlands, for example, self-employment among
Muslim settlers increased by over 300 per cent from 1986 to 1997.
Furthermore, whereas in 1986 only 3.3 per cent of the ethnic settlers
were categorized as self-employed, by 1997 this figure had more than
doubled to 7.4 per cent. Similarly, it is estimated that, in 1997, seven
out of every ten newsagents in Greater London were Asian-owned.
Muslim workers are able to take advantage of social networks (e.g.
family labour) and ethnic niches in the economy (e.g. halal food),
although many have expanded considerably beyond the ‘ethnic
economy’. As discrimination comes into play, particularly at the
threshold of the world of business, Muslim workers retreat into sectors
such as shop-keeping and catering to cope with exclusion.
Small firms are favoured by the rise of the service sector and the
growth of the financial sector; European Muslims are able to take
advantage of opportunities in self-employment in small businesses,
which can meet unstable demand, and necessitate only a small
amount of capital, in addition to using family labour. The develop-
ment of ethnic enterprises in Italy, for example, is credited to gaps left
by native Italians in, for example, productive craftsmanship and ser-

vices. The project, however, also highlights similarities between immi-
grants and/or settlers and indigenous entrepreneurs based on age,
education levels and (low) participation of female entrepreneurs. It
suggests that the cultural background is only one aspect pertinent to
small enterprises, concluding that the high percentage of Muslim
enterprises is due rather to long-term unemployment. Furthermore, the
main impetus for self-employment among Muslims in the United
Kingdom was found to be unemployment, underemployment, job dis-
satisfaction and blocked opportunities, with racism being seen as a
significant factor. In France, the research project identified a distinctive
‘halal economy’, which is represented by the increasing number of
second-generation North Africans (young settlers) who find significant
difficulties in gaining access to the labour market and confront even
greater difficulties in promotion when inside it.
Muslim women and employment
In focusing on Muslim women and employment, the project also

explored connections between gender, marginality, Islam and work. In
general, the research concluded that Muslim women are more margin-
alized in society than men, due to a combination of different factors,
but it also notes an increasing participation in the labour market
despite such obstacles. Many of the difficulties Muslim women face in
the labour market are the same as for Muslim men, comprising racism
and religious discrimination, the lack of secure, full-time positions,
lack of language skills and qualifications in some cases, high levels of
unemployment and restrictions of immigration policies. The growth of
the service sector has resulted in lower unemployment levels for
Muslim women than men due to increased opportunities in this sector,
albeit in very low-paid and insecure employment. However, there is a
much higher concentration of women, both Muslim and non-Muslim,
in part-time employment, work associated with lower pay, lower status
and fewer promotion opportunities. In addition, they face the sexual
division of work and gender discrimination in the labour market. The
specific employment choices, career paths, types of work undertaken and
work preferences of the women interviewed for this project are shown to
be extremely diverse and varied depending on levels of education,
qualifications, length of time spent in the partner country, nationality,
age, generation, family responsibilities and relationship with Islam. The
life histories that make up part of this project illustrate the extent of the
Muslim Voices 93
marginalization of Muslim women in Europe and describe their different

ways of coping with social exclusion due to their ‘Muslimness’.
The part-time, ‘flexible’, temporary, casualized labour seems to be
more common among Muslim women. In France, Muslim women fre-
quently hold jobs in the ‘mobile tertiary sector’, comprising work such
as private or domestic service and shop-keeping; only 16 per cent are
salaried employees in the public sector with its associated benefits.
When difficulties are encountered in seeking employment, for example,
racism or religious discrimination due to names or wearing headscarves,
women from several countries described how they must resort to infor-
mal networks and contacts in order to secure work. This requires a high
degree of initiative, determination and flexibility. Some women
reported that they did not wear a headscarf due to fear of discrimina-
tion or inability to find work; others searched for alternative types of
employment, for example homeworking, self-employment, social or
youth work. One Muslim woman interviewed in Manchester noted:
Even though you get the degree, this amounts to nothing. I see
educated boys every day. They are working in take-aways and taxi
firms. The degree amounts to nothing. The prospects for the next
generation are worse. Hijab-wearing women won’t get jobs. They
can get the jobs at Tesco, or doing some menial admin. work, but
they won’t get higher level jobs.
Muslim women often find themselves in a position particularly vulner-

able to discrimination due to their visibility if they wear a headscarf.
Another woman interviewed in Manchester stated:
Once anybody sees you wearing a scarf there is an image of you

straightaway where people think you are a downtrodden Muslim
woman and everything that you do, you walk a step behind your
husband, all these things, they automatically come into place in
that person’s mind once they see you … so people automatically do
start judging you and there’s definitely discrimination there.
This conditions to a large extent the types of employment available to

Muslim women, or the types of employment they will themselves con-
sider. For example, it is for this reason that some Muslim women
choose to be self-employed or to work from home.4 Whereas Arab
women working in Switzerland in general felt that the labour market
was open to all, women wearing headscarves have found the headscarf
to be ‘incompatible’ with the labour market. Similarly, some Pakistani

Muslim women in the United Kingdom held the belief that with
adequate skills and qualifications, Muslims will not face discrimination
in the labour market, but women wearing headscarves who have more
contact with the community all condemn racist attitudes and com-
ments towards them. Muslim women of Turkish origin living in
Germany face the additional challenge to their choice to wear head-
scarves, as the issue is also fiercely debated in Turkey.
Headscarves have become a self-conscious decision, particularly for
women from the younger generation. Where for the older generation
the headscarf is traditional, for younger women it represents greater
freedom. They feel constantly challenged to defend their choice and
justify their views, which has led them to acquire an in-depth know-
ledge of Islam and the Koran and a new self-understanding. In
Germany, women known as ‘veiled feminists’ demand positions in
political parties, criticize male interpretations of Islamic practices and
patriarchal structures, and deem gender-specific spatial segregation
unnecessary. Ironically, protests have led to increased participation of
pro-Islamic women in society and politics. Muslim women in the
Netherlands have protested at the pressure on them to become ‘eman-
cipated’, stressing that ‘modernization’ or emancipation is not the
same as Westernization or ‘Dutchification’. In Belgium, the young
headscarf wearers feel that their identity is challenged and their own
responsibility goes unrecognized. They also believe that they are seen
as a collective by Belgian society rather than as individuals and are
more likely to be considered ‘fundamentalists’. On the contrary, their
status as Belgian citizens, they believe, gives them the right to express
their faith publicly and to be accepted as Belgians along with their faith,
signalling ‘the transition from politeness to politics’. Headscarves thus,
in certain situations, become a political attribute, instruments of re-
action to mechanisms of domination, of mobilization in public, and of
claiming the right to equality. Similarly, the older generation of Muslim
women interviewed in Germany see themselves as ‘guests’ in Germany
who therefore ought to adapt to the host society, whereas the younger
generation see the headscarf as compatible with German society: they
have a constitutional right to practise their faith, they feel ‘at home’ in
Germany, and therefore have the right to assert their interests.
Women born in the host country and having citizenship are the
most likely to enjoy a sense of stability, socialization and permanence
and they hold the greatest variety of occupations in society. Work,
rather than being a financial necessity, is a symbol of fulfilment and
Muslim Voices 95
opportunities in society. This group of women are also more likely to

be critical of the labour market situation, holding the lack of accept-
ance of a different culture accountable for inequalities, rather than
assuming that the lack of qualifications or language skills is respon-
sible. Their identity is most often expressed in terms of their faith and
the nationality of the host country, for example Muslim British
women, whereas for their parents their identity is based on their
nationality, Pakistani Muslim. The German report likewise suggests
that self-definition for the younger generation is expressed via culture
and religion: although links to the country of origin are weaker, links
to Islam become stronger in order to achieve a new cultural justification
of their minority status. Even non-practising Muslims who have a greater
attachment to their culture of origin assert that Islam plays an import-
ant role in their lives. However, there are also young Muslim women
who prefer to be discreet in their religious practices or reject an Islamic
identity altogether. The attitude of the host society to second- and
third-generation Muslim women is ambiguous: they are either regarded
as doubly discriminated against because they face resistance from
within their community and from outside it, or conversely they are
seen as having a privileged position due to their insights into the
Western and the migrant/Muslim culture.
Muslim women also face discrimination on the basis of their
gender. As with many non-Muslim women, they must cope with a
‘double day’ of work plus domestic and family responsibilities. Paid
work is often the subject of negotiation within the family, particularly
concerning the type of work that can be undertaken and the hours
worked. In Germany first-generation Muslim women of Turkish origin
complain that the negative attitudes of Turkish men towards their
work limit their choice of occupation. These differing cultural norms
also affect the types of work Muslim women occupy. For example, it is
more common for a woman to work in Turkey than in Morocco, and
correspondingly, there are more Muslims of Turkish origin than
Moroccan working in the Netherlands. Muslim women in the United
Kingdom and in the Netherlands assert that Islam is no barrier to
women working. Dutch research has determined two ‘emancipation
models’: an orientation towards work and an orientation towards care.
Rather than being dependent on nationality, religion or immigrant
status, socio-economic position was found to be a major determinant.
Dutch women with young children from low socio-economic
backgrounds also fit into the model ‘orientation towards care’. Low
wages do not pay for childcare, and women in this position are
therefore unable to take paid work. Muslim women of Pakistani origin

working as homeworkers in the United Kingdom cite disadvantages
inherent in homeworking very similar to those experienced by white
British women homeworkers: long hours for low pay, with no benefits
or security and the stress of combining work with childcare and
domestic tasks. The reasons for undertaking this type of work are also
replicated, in terms of childcare and the responsibility for taking care
of the household, in addition to the reluctance on the part of their
husbands for them to take paid work outside the home. Pakistani
Muslim women, however, particularly first-generation, face the addi-
tional disadvantages of a lack of language skills and educational
qualifications, and they tend to be concentrated in the lowest-paid
jobs. Yet younger, second- and third-generation Muslim women with
the advantages of language skills and qualifications still experience
racism in the labour market, leading to their effective exclusion from
many sectors of the economy.
Conclusion
It is clear from the above schematic account of Muslim workers in

Europe, and especially of women workers, that economic status and
generation do constitute determinants of marginality and the typical
response of individuals from this immigrant and settler community
does not rely solely on cultural values. On the contrary, it can be con-
cluded that cultural values do articulate with a variety of economic con-
ditions to produce varied responses and that it is almost impossible to
conceptualize a ‘typical’ Muslim worker or Muslim woman worker. In
this respect Islam, as a cultural set of values, cannot be seen as having
any analytical privilege in any account of the socio-economic condi-
tions of European Muslims, in the period of globalization and econ-
omic restructuring. Nevertheless, Islamic values and Muslim identities
cannot be dismissed from the analysis. Instead what this chapter has
suggested is that European workers, and in this case Muslims, may well
employ any set of cultural values at their disposal in order to respond
to the dramatic changes brought about by the economic restructuring.
Thus, it is not surprising that European Muslims may make use of
Islamic networks or even political identities to cope with their margin-
alization and social exclusion.
This, of course, is not to imply that Islam is incompatible with
modernity or that using Islamic values tempers the effects of economic
restructuring. On the contrary it suggests that Muslim Voices are very
Muslim Voices 97
much part of modernity and that those European workers who resort
to such Islamic political identities may temper the effects, but at a cost
of attracting other forms of socio-cultural exclusion and marginaliza-
tion: Islamophobia. In this respect, it is possible to conclude by noting
that approaches which analytically polarize the economy and culture
in their accounts of ethnicity will fail to grasp the dynamic relation-
ship between the two and thus produce static and essentialist interpre-
tations. Culture and economy do not possess analytical priorities over
each other: it is an analytical framework, which is able to articulate
both together, that will allow us to grasp the subtleties, diversity and
contingencies which characterize the process of ethnic formation.
Notes
1. Miles (1993) has argued that the ‘race relations problematic’ gave a mis-
placed credibility to the idea of race. But it is critics of the race relations
paradigm, including Robert Miles, Stuart Hall and Fred Halliday, who tend to
privilege European modernity and secularism and thus fail to grasp the com-
plexity of the politics of identity. For a critique of these latter authors, see
Glavanis (1998; 1999).
2. Given the limitations of space only some indicative data are used in this
abbreviated summary, but all the statistical and other quantitative indicators
as well as qualitative information from the project can be found on the
following web-site: http://socialsciences.unn.ac.uk/eumuslim. I am indebted
to Ms Emma Hughes, the project’s research assistant, for assisting in the
preparation of this abstract from volumes of data collected in the eight
countries.
3. Throughout this chapter the term ‘Muslims’ refers to European residents
(citizens or non-citizens) who are represented in the statistical data by their
country of origin, e.g. Bangladeshi, Moroccan, Turk, etc. The assumption that is
made is that they are Muslims since in these countries Islam is the religion of
the vast majority of the population (over 95 per cent). The reason for making
such an assumption is that in all the countries concerned the statistics do not
identify workers by religious or cultural identification. Furthermore, it should
be noted that relying upon such an assumption does not imply that all
Muslims exemplify socio-cultural Islamic identities (Muslim Voices). In fact, the
project has estimated that approximately one third of the European Muslim
settlers exemplify secular Western identities, even if the media and society at
large tend to ignore this fact, assuming that all those who originate from these
countries (even if second- and third-generation) are by definition persons
who will exemplify Islamic socio-cultural characteristics and quite possibly
adherents and supporters of Political Islam.
4. For example, a young Muslim woman in Germany, after countless attempts to
secure employment where she was always asked to remove her scarf, eventually
started a community newspaper. Many Muslim women of Pakistani origin in
the United Kingdom work at home sewing garments for the clothing industry.
6
Ethnicity and Class as Competing
Interpretations: The Socio-economic
Mobility of Asian Americans1
Deborah Woo
This chapter deals with culture and structure as rival explanations,

especially in the area of race or ethnic relations. In the United States,
the subject of socioeconomic mobility among Asian Americans is
often used by political conservatives to claim the triumph of cultural
explanations of minority status.
Debates on the North American continent have been rather different
from those that have absorbed Europeans. Marxist and neo-Marxist
approaches have dominated European social and political theory, and
competing perspectives have been obliged to work out their own theo-
ries in relationship to the concept of class as a central analytical factor.
American sociology, by contrast, has never been burdened with ‘the
ghost of Marx’, even though the discipline has done more than any
other to recognize the significance of class stratification. Still, class has
played a lesser role than race, ethnicity or culture as an analytical tool.
One reason for these different orientations has to do with how racial
demographics have affected the sociology of knowledge. In the latter
half of the twentieth century, especially in the 1950s and 1960s,
European states accepted considerable numbers of in-migrants from
their former colonies – in the case of Britain, from India, Hong Kong,
West Indies and former British colonial regions of Africa. These new
migrations projected questions of ‘race’ and racism onto the public
agenda in a new way. Class relations were a focal point of sociological
debate among British intellectuals, and only as ethnic or religious
differences made themselves felt in recent years did these factors
emerge as salient and competing nodal points for analysis. By contrast,
almost from its beginnings in the early colonial period America has
had to grapple with the issue of racial and ethnic diversity, given its
dependence on the forced labour of African slaves and the indigenous
98
Ethnicity and Class as Competing Interpretations 99
population of native Americans. While independence from monarchy

produced ambivalence about inherited class privilege and the exterior
trappings of class, Americans have been haunted by a legacy of racial
consciousness. The question of ‘race’ – with its associated disadvan-
tages – has never been entirely disassociated from the question of
‘class’. However, the conflation of race with ‘culture’ has introduced
another variable into the equation.
In the last three decades, ‘race’, ‘class’ and ‘culture’ have infused not
only sociological but popular debates about the differential progress of
America’s majority white population and its racial minorities. The lens
applied to any particular analysis has shifted over time and depends on
the racial groups involved. Thus, for example, blacks have largely been
analysed through the lens of ‘race’, and the black–white model of race
and racism still persists. While ethnic ancestry and diversity among
whites sharply demarcates Europe, racial status and identity as ‘whites’
have systematically conferred privilege in the United States (Roediger
1991). Class, more than ethnicity, is the dimension along which
whites have been most often internally differentiated. Apart from such
social consciousness, whites have also been more likely than other
racial groups to claim that their status as ‘individuals’ overrides all
other identities.
Although the ideal of equality among citizens is a generally Western
one, it has in the United States been situated alongside the ideals of
individualism, entrepreneurship and cultural socialization of a certain
sort, which have also been a large part of American ideology. Success
stories in this vein have been part of ‘America’s perpetual morality tale
about its minorities’ (Lyman 1973). As such, they have attributed rela-
tive good fortune or failure to the presence of certain cultural traits,
and in the process trivialized the significance of race or class barriers.
As the most recent in this series of group success stories, Asian
Americans have been viewed primarily through the lens of culture.
This perception has been cultivated not only through media hype but
through reference to statistical data pointing to their high educational
and occupational achievement.
As the fastest growing minority group in the United States (Gardner
et al. 1985; O’Hare and Felt 1991; US Bureau of the Census 1993),2
Asian Americans are the most highly educated of all groups, including
white males, and are projected to make up a disproportionate share of
the professional workforce in the next decade (Fullerton 1989; Ong
and Hee 1993). Though the majority of Asians in the United States are
employed as private wage and salary workers, ethnic small businesses
100 Deborah Woo
and other forms of ethnic-specific work have provided the major

empirical focus for academic theorizing regarding their occupational
mobility. There is some legitimate reason for this. Asian Americans are
more likely to be involved in small business activities than other
groups,3 and in California, their high self-employment rate (more than
11 per cent) is exceeded only by the white self-employment rate
(17 per cent) (Los Angeles Times, 15 July 1998).
While these data lend support to the morality tale in its entre-
preneurial form, the relationship between culture and mobility is rarely
directly examined, though the myth is kept alive by linking statistics
with culturally appealing explanations. For each statistic, a cultural
value is typically imputed to explain the rate in question: high educa-
tional attainment rates are seen as issuing from a value placed on
learning, low unemployment from a strong work ethic, low divorce
or delinquency rates from a strong value placed on the family, low
rates of psychiatric hospitalization from a philosophical attitude of
acceptance, and so on.
Conversely, the underachievement of American blacks has been
attributed to a ‘culture of poverty’, an ‘unstable family structure’ and a
way of life promoting failure or low achievement (Moynihan 1965;
Valentine 1968). By such logic, discriminatory actions on the part of
employers and a host of institutions are trivialized as causes of con-
tinuing racial segregation and unemployment (Massey and Denton
1993; Wilson 1997).
Though empirical evidence has contradicted the tenability of the
melting pot ideal and its culturally-based mobility assumptions (Glazer
and Moynihan 1963; Steinberg 1982), cultural analysts have typically
countered by citing Asian Americans as living, prima facie testimonials
to the myth (Caudill and DeVos 1956; Petersen 1971; Sowell 1981).
Genetic explanations attribute these social inequalities to racial biology
or ‘natural’, inherited differences in intelligence between the races
(Herrnstein and Murray 1994). In their most conservative renditions,
both types of explanation have rendered the relatively inferior econ-
omic or educational status of blacks unamenable to improvement
through government intervention. Critics, in turn, have not only
criticized the ideological agenda thereof, but disputed the meaning of
such statistical data, along with the cultural (or genetic) theory
purporting to explain the disparities (Jacoby and Glauberman 1995).
In general, cultural theorizing, especially that premised on ‘model
minority’ ideas, has withstood counter-evidence and counter-arguments,
partly because of the appeal in the popular cultural imagination; and, in
the case of Asian Americans, because subsequent versions of the model

minority thesis have been stretched to subsume even critical research
findings under the core thesis of success (Osajima 1988). In this way, sim-
plistic portrayals became slightly more complex in the 1980s, though the
fundamental thesis remained largely unchanged, surviving into the
1990s.
The persistence and elasticity of the model minority thesis
Although it was the experiences of native-born Chinese and Japanese

Americans, who formed the majority of the Asian American population
prior to 1965, that would be the original stimulus for media success
stories, after 1965 similar success stories were reproduced for other
subgroups in an increasingly diverse Asian American population
(Caudill and DeVos 1956; Kim and Hurh 1983; Caplan 1985; Osajima
1988; Caplan et al. 1992; 1994). The model minority thesis persisted
for several reasons: 1) media celebration of a few dramatic examples of
‘rags-to-riches’ stories; 2) the existence of a sizeable and visible group
of highly educated professionals; 3) failure to disaggregate census data;
4) unexamined assertions about the relationship between culture and
mobility; and 5) the specific political or ideological purposes served by
the thesis.
In general, the thesis was never based on careful, systematic analysis
but rather on a loose grab-bag of assumptions, where reasoning has
been stretched to accommodate contradictions, both empirical and
logical. In the end, the major support for the thesis is ideological – the
myth of the American Dream.
1 Media celebration of ‘rags-to-riches’ stories

Where Asian Americans have been ‘newsworthy’ subjects, palpable
accounts of their mobility have been reported within the framework of
assimilationist rhetoric. In April 1998, for example, the Washington Post
retold a familiar fable, now rendered in the form of high-tech success.
The opening line read: ‘The classic dream of entrepreneurial America
came true in Landover yesterday: Jeong Kim, a Korean-born immigrant
who once worked the night shift at seven-to-eleven to put himself
through school, sold his company – for $1 billion’ (Washington Post,
28 April 1998). In selecting this news account for special attention,
radio commentator Charles Osgood similarly opined: ‘This is a story
that Horatio Alger would love to tell.’ The impetus for the report was
the merger of Jeong Kim’s company, Yurie, with Lucent Technology
102 Deborah Woo
and Kim’s appointment as president of Lucent’s Carrier Networks divi-

sion, making him one of the 100 richest high-tech executives in the
country. Such mergers reflect the timbre of our time, though what is
considered unmistakably noteworthy and thereby newsworthy was the
more personal narrative of bootstrap success.
When he was fourteen, Kim had come to the United States from
Seoul with his Korean-born parents, eventually attending Johns
Hopkins University, where he studied electrical engineering. Kim went
on to the University of Maryland, receiving a PhD in engineering. After
serving seven years in the navy, where he was the officer of a nuclear
submarine, he went to work as a contract engineer at the Naval
Research Laboratory. Here he developed the idea for a multimedia
technology that would enable reporters to pipe almost instant voice,
data and video feeds from international hotspots, battlefields or elec-
tions. Founded on this technology in 1992, his company, Yurie, made
its mark almost immediately, soon marketing to federal agencies and
later to world-wide markets.
Although initially framed as a classic story of entrepreneurial success,
the Washington Post account goes on to reveal that Kim had not pulled
himself up entirely by his bootstraps. Yurie had, like other companies,
been ‘born from government contracts’, having received $305,000 of
Defense Department money through a separate programme for small,
minority-owned businesses (Washington Post, 28 April 1998). This last
observation alters the story as a cultural narrative, and it is to the credit
of the writers that they sought to explore this issue. This may be 300K
to riches, but it is not ‘rags to riches’. Nevertheless, the original
framing of the report is what readers will remember.
Over the years, stories about individual dreams realized through
sheer perseverance have saturated the media. On 16 July 1998, CBS
News’ 48 Hours dedicated an entire programme, ‘Making It’, to this
theme, where the dream now encompasses individual aspirations that
surpass even Alger’s expectations: ‘Only in America: a place where you
can reach for your dreams and make it big, against all odds, aiming for
that million dollar payday.’ Whether because of an unquenched public
thirst, or because of particular circumstances surrounding their own
condition, the populace has relished accounts where pluck, ingenuity
and, above all, the ability to endure and persevere have overcome
desperate circumstances, back-breaking or mind-numbing work.
The story of David Tsang, a successful entrepreneur and founder of
three high-technology companies in the San Francisco Bay Area, is
reported to conform to the fabled climb from rags to riches. A ‘shy
young man of 19’, he arrives with only ‘$300 in his pocket and a
shabby suitcase’ in a country which ‘seemed like an intimidating,
unfriendly land’. Despite being alone (his only contact a ‘distant friend
of his father’) and facing obstacles that included corporate politics and
having ‘just the barest knowledge of English’, Tsang ‘persevered’. In
the end, this discipline pays off, and after some thirty years, Tsang is
described as someone who continues to work 10–12-hour days and
six-day weeks, who ‘prides himself in never giving up’, and now offers
himself as a role model to ‘younger, potential Asian American entre-
preneurs’ (AsianWeek, 8 March 1996).
Another news account describes Chong-Moon Lee, also a Silicon
Valley entrepreneur, as one who persisted despite desperate circum-
stances which forced him to live on ‘21-cent packages of Ramen
noodles’, near bankruptcy and frequenting pawn shops in order to pay
a $168 phone bill (AsianWeek, 3 November 1995). Lee eventually not
only recoups but becomes a major benefactor. Thus, the San Francisco
Chronicle’s coverage of his story underscored his meteoric rise as follows:
‘From the depths of longing for a hamburger he couldn’t afford and
contemplating suicide, this entrepreneur rose to such success he was
able to give $15 million to S.F.’s Asian Art Museum. Chong-Moon Lee
makes Horatio Alger look like a Slacker’ (San Francisco Chronicle,
5 November 1995).
Although these journalistic pieces inspire, they become problematic
when elevated to the level of social analyses and models for others to
emulate, without a commensurate effort to integrate and analyse the role
that other factors play. What these accounts often fail to do is draw the
link between biography, history and society, which C. Wright Mills
(1959: 8) saw as necessary for escaping the entrapment created by
framing the problems in everyday life as individual ‘troubles’ responsive
to wilful activity rather than as public ‘issues’ requiring attention to the
interpenetrating milieux which structure social life.
Individuals who have worked their way up from poverty to wealth
are the exception, not the rule (Domhoff 1998). Thus the celebrated
success story of Chong-Moon Lee, on closer examination, can be
qualified in important ways. As a first-generation Korean-born immi-
grant, Lee certainly faced difficulties a native-born American would not
have. He also had, however, certain social advantages and connections,
including royal descent. Before immigrating and later founding
Diamond Multimedia Systems in 1982, Lee had been a university
professor as well as a successful pharmaceuticals executive in the
family business of manufacturing antibiotics. While his personal
104 Deborah Woo
success itself is not at issue, his biography deviates significantly from

the typical Horatio Alger one of humble beginnings. If it is to be
treated as a morality tale, then it seems that the moral of the story is
that making it in American society is unlikely, given the formidable
odds for someone even from such an elite background as Lee.
Conversely, the more poignant social commentary is that many who
adhere to an ethic of hard work face insurmountable hurdles. This is
not to say that exceptions to this larger pattern cannot be found, but
the point is that they are exceptions.
Whether details about social origins are omitted or included, narrative
as ideology is crafted to suggest that the all-important factors are indivi-
dual character, high moral standards and motivation. The contradictions
in Chong-Moon Lee’s life were bracketed discursively, so that by the end
of the narrative, an extraordinary history of privilege, with all of its
tangible and intangible resources, recedes into the background. In other
biographies, we know little about whether other factors were relevant in
propelling such individuals out of desperate circumstances. David
Tsang’s background, for example, is not fully revealed. We are told that
his father was a teacher, which one might infer provided at least a
certain level of status, security and economic means, but his background
is otherwise sketchy. Even when facts contradict the idea of humble
beginnings or of individual ‘bootstrappers’, the main theme of the
American Dream is preserved. Those who identify with this dominant
ethos generally buy into the model minority assumption that education
will bring with it equality and achievement (S. Lee 1996). The life
trajectories of those on the bottom, however, are rarely examined for the
purpose of empirically specifying the limits of cultural explanations. An
implicit assumption or hope is that it will simply be a matter of time and
cultural fortitude before those less fortunate close the gap between them-
selves and their more successful counterparts.
In their own review of ‘Asian Americans in the Power Elite’,
Zweigenhaft and Domhoff (1998) argue that social class plays a critical
role in mobility. When looking into the family backgrounds of the
Asian Americans in the corporate elite, they found that many did not
make the climb from the very bottom of the social ladder but rather
from already high rungs. Their list included Chang-Lin Tien, former
Chancellor of the University of California, Berkeley, born into a wealthy
banking family; television personality Connie Chung, the daughter of a
former intelligence officer in Chiang Kai Shek’s army; and Pei-Yuan
Chia, former vice-chair of Citibank and the highest ranking Asian
American executive and corporate director at a world-class American
corporation, also from a banking family (Zweigenhaft and Domhoff

1998: 140–2, 145–6). Zweigenhaft and Domhoff’s book is replete with
such examples for other groups, women as well as other ethnic minor-
ities, where the biographical details suggest that the true moral is that
the American Dream is primarily open to those who come with certain
material advantages and social connections.
2 A sizeable and visible group of highly educated professionals

Though a sizeable and visible group of highly educated professionals
exists among Asian Americans, the conceptual or theoretical leaps from
such observations need to be re-examined, especially the view that
they are contemporary Horatio Alger’s heroes.
To remain true to the myth of humble beginnings, one would have
to ignore the fact that the 1965 Immigration Act contained special
provisions that specifically recruited professionally trained personnel
to these shores. As a select group of immigrants, they arrive either
already educated and trained, or from sufficiently affluent social class
backgrounds which enable them to pursue their education abroad. In
fact, the vast majority of Asian students who receive postgraduate
degrees from American institutions are foreign-born (Escueta and
O’Brien 1991; Hune and Chan 1997), with many choosing to remain
in the United States after they have graduated. In their study of diver-
sity in America’s ‘power elite’, Zweigenhaft and Domhoff acknowledge
that there were few ‘authentic bootstrappers’ among Asian Americans,
especially Chinese who formed the majority of Asian American direc-
tors in Fortune 1000 Boards: ‘Unlike most Chinese immigrants to the
United States before the 1970s, who came from low-income back-
grounds, the great majority of Chinese Americans at the top levels of
American society are from well-to-do or well-educated families in
China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong’ (Zweigenhaft and Domhoff 1998:
144, 141).
In general, those in the upper echelons, especially corporate execu-
tives, board members and directors, tended to hail overwhelmingly
from the upper strata of society as well. This generalization was true for
Jews, women, blacks, Latinos, Asian Americans, and gays and lesbians.
Women and minorities who found their way into the power elite were
usually ‘better educated than the white males already a part of it’. For
this reason, the authors state that class alone did not explain the com-
position of the power elite. One had to also have cultural capital in the
form of degrees from high-status institutions.
106 Deborah Woo
Other studies similarly note that those from elite universities and
colleges are best groomed or primed for the high-status track (Kingston
and Lewis 1990), and that wealth, social connections and elite educa-
tional credentials go far towards explaining disparities in social mobil-
ity (Useem and Karabel 1990). Whether education or social class has
the greater effect on mobility, the convergence of high educational and
social status among Asian professionals in the United States obscures
this distinction. The lateral mobility of such immigrants to the United
States has been facilitated by their affluence, as has been any subse-
quent rise up the ladder.
3 Failure to disaggregate Census data

Of all the criticisms bearing on the model minority thesis, the most
common one is directed towards the glib and facile generalizations
that gloss over important internal differences within this population.
Asian Americans include many ‘old’ as well as ‘new immigrants’, with
segments of this population more accustomed to rural life and more
likely than their urban counterparts to resist the pulls of mainstream
American society (Knoll 1982; Walker-Moffat 1995). Descendants of
older immigrants here are likely to be more culturally assimilated than
recent arrivals and more economically adjusted, since length of time in
the US bears importantly not only on acculturation but on income.
Although all US-born Asian Americans, with the exception of
Vietnamese, were also less likely to be in poverty than US-born blacks
or Hispanics (Barringer et al. 1995), culture again may not be the key
differentiating factor.
The major point here is that statistical averages obscure the fact that
Asian Americans tend to concentrate at the extremes – at both the high
and low ends – of social status indicators, reflecting what is called a
‘bimodal’ distribution.4 Focusing on the aggregate, therefore, perpetuates
a picture of high achievement, whether we are talking about educational
achievement or occupational mobility. In the case of education achieve-
ment, there are large clusters of Asian Americans who are high achievers
and college-bound. There are students, nevertheless, whose high school
records are not only less promising but indicative of retention problems,
including delinquency (Trueba et al. 1993; Hune and Chan 1997).
Failure to disaggregate statistical data in other ways has also resulted
in inappropriate conclusions suggesting Asian Americans are not only
doing well but ‘outdoing whites’ (Suzuki 1989). The common belief
that Asian Americans earn more than other groups, including majority
males, is significantly qualified once other factors are ‘controlled for’.
These include region of residence, whether income calculations are

based on mean or median income, the number of wage earners per
family and the nature of managerial work.
National comparisons mislead since Asian Americans tend to reside
in metropolitan areas of high-income states, whereas the general popu-
lation or non-Hispanic whites are more geographically dispersed. In
1990, for example, Asian Pacific Americans were reported to have a
median home value of $178,300, more than double the median home
value of $80,200 for whites (Chen 1995).5 Yet in 1990, three-fifths of
Asian Americans lived in just three states – California, Hawai’i and New
York (Lott 1991) – which partly explains the discrepancy in property
values.6 Similarly, if we look at the median annual income for Asian
Americans nationwide for that year, it was $36,000, whereas that for
non-Hispanic whites was $31,100. Disaggregating national income
data for this same year reverses this very picture. According to compar-
isons based on four metropolitan areas, the median annual income for
Asian Pacific Americans was $37,200, compared to $40,000 for non-
Hispanic whites (Ong and Hee 1994: 34). Not only are Asian American
incomes lower but when one recalls where they live, their dollars also
have less buying power.
Like national income figures, the use of ‘mean income’ can similarly
obscure. Given the bimodal character of the Asian American popula-
tion, median income rather than mean income is the preferred measure
(the median being that point above and below which 50 per cent of all
cases fall). When calculated, the median incomes of Japanese, Chinese,
Filipinos, Koreans, Asian Indians, and Vietnamese, are invariably lower
than the mean (Barringer et al. 1995: 152–3).
The number of wage-earners per household also tends to be higher
for Asian households. The US General Accounting Office explicitly
drew attention to this fact when it reported on 1985 incomes.
Specifically, it reported that while Asian American households earned
$2,973 a month, 28 per cent more than the average US household
income of $2,325, this difference disappeared once one looked at per
capita income (US General Accounting Office 1990: 20–1). In other
words, Asian Americans did not necessarily earn more, but household
incomes tended to be higher because they were more likely to have
more income-earners, including unpaid family members.
Finally, where Census data are used to gauge glass ceiling barriers,
managerial data are seldom disaggregated to distinguish between
fundamentally different managerial levels in the corporate hierarchy or
between different sectors of the economy. The distinction between
108 Deborah Woo
managers in mainstream corporate America and those in ethnic

enclaves is especially critical for Asian Americans. Managerial status for
Asian Americans often takes the form of self-employment, which may
be an indicator not so much of an entrepreneurial spirit but of down-
ward mobility and disaffection with mainstream employment, a possi-
bility glossed over when Census data collapse salaried managers in
large-scale bureaucratic organizations with managers of ethnic small
businesses. Because minority-owned firms tend to be concentrated in
the retail and service sectors, rather than in the manufacturing or
finance-insurance-real estate sector (Waldinger et al. 1990: 56–7), Asian
Americans thus engaged have long been viewed as experiencing a form
of disguised underemployment (US Commission on Civil Rights,
1979). These businesses are more likely to be concentrated in highly
competitive, low-wage industries, and as high-risk operations are asso-
ciated with lower than average sales, with profits depending on long
hours, unpaid family members and overall fewer workers per firm.
Even if this propensity for small business involvement is considered a
viable opportunity structure, not all Asian Americans participate.7 In
general, research has been inconclusive and conflicting regarding the
role of small business employment in mobility (Bonacich 1988; 1989;
Min 1989; Waldinger et al. 1990).
In sum, these general methodological issues flag for attention factors
which are not necessarily reducible to culture or to simplistic notions
of cultural dynamics.
4 Unexamined assertions about the relationship between culture

and mobility
Although Asian cultural values are credited for much individual or
group success, one cannot assume the operation of certain values, or
assuming their existence, predict where they will lead. Despite a
frequently assumed relationship between culture and mobility, there
has, ironically, been a dearth of studies in this regard.
One reason has been the discipline’s commitment to statistical
analyses, along with Census data being a poor source of cultural data,
except perhaps for language (Barringer et al. 1995). This state of affairs,
of course, has not kept people from reading into such data – from
inferring or imputing the influence of culture.
Notwithstanding that cultural values may be operating at some level,
cultural theorizing and empirical research have not kept pace with
demographics. Granted, most critiques of the model minority thesis
acknowledge diversity in the Asian American population and repeatedly
point out that ‘not all’ Asian Americans have made similar progress. But
how cultural diversity produces differential progress within these popu-
lations is not altogether clear. During the 1960s, the Chinese and
Japanese were the two largest Asian ethnic populations in the United
States, and Confucianism was a major part of their cultural orientation,
which also included Buddhism, as well as elements of American culture.
A comparison of select Asian subgroups in terms of value orientation
and objective status even seems to support Confucianism as an
enabling body of values. Where the Confucian tradition has been
strongest (e.g. among the Chinese and Japanese), one finds these indi-
viduals clustered at the upper end of the income, educational and occu-
pational ladders. Conversely, those groups where the historical and
cultural trail to Confucianism is moot or absent (e.g. among Hmong,
Khmer and Cambodians) are ones where poverty is also higher (Trueba
et al. 1993: 44). However, even among Japanese and Chinese
Americans, one can find high poverty levels among recent immigrants
(Barringer et al. 1995: 155).
When still other Asian ethnic groups are brought into the picture,
however, it is questionable whether Confucian values can be credited.
For example, Korean Americans fall somewhere between Chinese and
Japanese in terms of educational attainment. Despite a strong
Confucian tradition in Korea, a significant portion of those who immi-
grated to the United States in the early 1900s and in recent years have
been Christian (Kim 1981; Knoll 1982; Abelman and Lie 1995). In the
case of both Asian Indians and Filipinos, college completion rates
exceed those of other Asian ethnic groups, including the Chinese and
Japanese, and yet ‘neither Filipinos nor Asian Indians can be said to be
influenced by Confucianism and they equal or surpass East Asians in
educational attainment’ (Barringer et al. 1995: 164).
The model minority thesis survived because it was stretched or rein-
vented discursively, as opposed to through new empirical research (for
example, that which shows how different subcultural tendencies
produce similar outcomes). Where Confucian values do not fit, the
picture of success has been repainted with broader brush strokes posit-
ing values related to ‘hard work’ as the key differentiating factor
between the poor and the successful. Such broad cultural generaliza-
tions are insufficient, however, for explaining why those who strongly
adhere to the same values are not similarly positioned in life.8
Some of the relatively greater educational progress of Asian
Americans over African Americans and others can be linked not simply
to cultural values but to pre-existing experiences or structures of
110 Deborah Woo
support. These include pre-immigration work experiences, either prior

professional training or commercial involvement, as well as access to
investment capital (Carnoy 1995). Money for educational pursuits or
business adventures came through family borrowing, rotating credit
associations and, more recently, for a select group of entrepreneurs,
through large-scale venture capital firms (Park 1996). For those with
little education or English fluency, entrepreneurialism establishes an
economic floor for pursuing educational ambitions. First-generation
immigrant parents might be uneducated and illiterate, but their ability
to set up small shops offers a possible escape from poverty.
Factors other than culture influence, however, often influence the
ability to take advantage of entrepreneurial opportunities. In the case of
Korean Americans, for example, it has been suggested that the relative
contribution to mobility played by Confucian or Christian cultural tradi-
tions may be less important than situational or structural factors (Min
1996). If cultural aspirations were the determining factor, Koreans would
avoid commercial pursuits altogether in favour of government or acade-
mic jobs.9 As Abelman and Lie say about Korean immigrants to the US,
small businesses confer comparatively lower social status:
many 1970s immigrants had graduated from college, including

extremely prestigious universities such as Seoul National University
(SNU)… . For an SNU graduate to ‘make it’ as a greengrocer or a dry
cleaner in the United States is akin to an elite U.S. university gradu-
ate’s succeeding as a convenience store owner in opulent Japan. …
Korean immigrant entrepreneurship should thus be seen as a con-
catenation of conscious decisions, albeit made under strong struc-
tural constraints. (Abelman and Lie 1995: 123, 129)
Self-employment is taken up because of language barriers, the non-

transferability of professional credentials or college degrees, and other
structural constraints to white-collar and professional employment,
including racial discrimination.
As long as culture is viewed simply as a property of individuals rather
than of structures, cultural explanations will give short shrift to struc-
tural explanations. The relative absence of small business activity
among American descendants of slaves can be linked partly to the dis-
appearance of such structures as the esusu, an African form of the rotat-
ing credit association.10 As a result, blacks have depended upon white
employers and government policies to establish an economic floor
from which educational gains can be made. The educational progress
of black children, in turn, has been most rapid when public policy
measures are directed towards improving schools and alleviating
poverty (Carnoy 1995).
The presumption of entrepreneurial values among Asian Americans in
general is a recurring one of no small consequence. The problem with
cultural explanations has to do with the conditions under which they
are invoked. As Portes and Rumbaut (1990: 77) point out, they are
‘always post-factum’. In addition, the numerous ‘unique entrepreneurial
values’ invoked for different ethnic groups are not only theoretically
untidy, but cannot explain the empirical exceptions to the theory.11
Finally, although education is now almost a prerequisite for mobil-
ity, culture need not be. In their book Inequality by Design, University
of California, Berkeley sociology professors (Fischer et al. 1996) drew
upon a cumulative body of research to show how social class back-
ground as well as social or national policy arrangements significantly
affect social inequalities. Social status was shown to have direct impli-
cations for IQ. For example, though Koreans have achieved high levels
of education in the United States, their lower, minority status in Japan
is manifested in lower IQ scores. In the United States, however, IQ
differences between Koreans and Japanese fade. Rather than being a
direct measure of innate intelligence, IQ test results reflect access to
resources that affect performance on these very tests. As we saw earlier,
social class background might better explain important differences
among Asian Americans, as well as between Asian Americans and other
racial-ethnic groups.
To return to the point raised at the beginning of this section, Census
data are not designed to address cultural theories. Despite this limit-
ation, we might make the best of this situation were we to approach
such statistics as a basis for generating theories. Besides cultural expla-
nations, one might posit a range of structural explanations for the rates
in question. For example, even when student achievement can be
traced to parental pressures to perform, the motivation need not be
culturally based. Parental exhortations to ‘work hard’, for example,
may be derived from the realization that discrimination makes it
necessary for a minority to work ‘twice as hard’ in order to succeed.
This alternative, structural perspective has yet to get the attention it
deserves even in the educational context where the model minority
thesis prevails. In the occupational sphere, research has noted that the
motivation behind ongoing education among Asian Americans is not
cultural but ‘structural’ – a response to blocked mobility (Sue and
Okazaki 1990).
112 Deborah Woo
5 Political or ideological purposes served by the thesis

Cultural explanations like the model minority thesis ignore structural
conditions, institutional policies and social class privileges that have
assisted the large majority of those who ‘make it’. In doing so, they
have served to maintain the status quo, persisting because of their
ideological appeal.12 Were there not African Americans and other
minorities who form a prominent part of the picture of sustained econ-
omic disadvantage, the thesis would not exist.
Because of the value placed on social equality in the United States,
gross inequities have been a source of national embarrassment, ill ease
and social if not ideological crisis. In this context, model minorities
serve as a sign of the ongoing viability of the American Dream, reduc-
ing social inequities to matters of individual will or choice. Success on
the part of individual Jews at the turn of the nineteenth century simi-
larly occasioned some to wonder aloud why African Americans do not
imitate or emulate those strategies.
The Jewish Horatio Alger story itself has been criticized in ways that
parallel some of the analysis in the previous pages. Sociologist Stephen
Steinberg made several pointed criticisms in this regard: 1) that success
was not uniformly distributed throughout the Jewish population,
2) that even those who managed to climb the occupational hierarchy
still found their mobility limited, 3) that Jewish cultural values have
limited explanatory power, and 4) that structural considerations have a
vital bearing on the degree to which pre-immigration skills interfaced
well with the needs of the American economy.13 For these reasons, he
said, ‘the popular image of Jews as a middle-class monolith tends to be
overdrawn’, and even those who entered the professions were far from
being an ‘economic elite’ (Steinberg 1982: 90–1). Zweigenhaft and
Domhoff’s more recent study supports this last point (1998: 20). Since
the 1970s, however, Jews have made such significant inroads into the
largest Fortune-level boards that the authors conclude they are now
‘most certainly overrepresented in the corporate elite’ (Zweigenhaft
and Domhoff 1998: 23). Zweigenhaft and Domhoff (1998: 176–81) saw
four factors as critical to the assimilation of Jews (as well as to the
assimilation of other minorities and women): identity management,
class, education and light skin.
In those contexts where Asian Americans have supplanted the stan-
dard reference point for assimilation (white Americans), model minor-
ity logic has acquired its appeal from the fact that it is couched in
values consistent with middle-class American values and taps into
familiar cultural beliefs and myths (such as Horatio Alger and the
American Dream). One might even argue that it has persisted largely
because it serves an ideological or political purpose. Attitudes towards
Asian Americans have shifted depending on whether they represent a
greater or lesser threat than other groups in the existing hierarchy.
While dubbed a model minority, Asian Americans have rarely, if ever,
been seriously elevated as a model for majority whites, especially where
competition between the two has been direct. It is precisely in these
situations where the thesis is no longer considered tenable and where
ideology and politics become most apparent, especially to those who
run up against new or unexpected barriers.
Thus, where Asian American admissions to colleges and universities
have been associated with declining white enrolments, praise is at best
faint and more often accompanied by concerns about Asian American
overrepresentation and by unflattering characterizations of them as
‘nerds’, who are academically narrow or lacking in socially desirable
qualities (San Jose Mercury, 23 February 1998; Woo 1990; 1996; Takagi
1992). In work spheres where Asian American professionals have
appeared in significant numbers, glass ceilings and negative assess-
ments of their allegedly poor managerial potential have impeded
mobility. Whatever the justifications for their exclusion, the idea of
them as ‘model’ no longer surfaces.
The limits of cultural ideologies
Historically specific, the model minority thesis is premised on the funda-

mental assumption that educational achievement is indispensable for
success. For this reason, it is unlike its Horatio Alger counterpart, which
was born at a time when agrarian and newly emerging industrial sectors
could still provide decent work for those without high school diplomas.
Only in postwar decades has the nation firmly embraced an ideology that
links education achievement with occupational mobility. The postwar
economy was an expanding one, and the GI Bill made it possible for
education to be widely pursued. In this way, opportunities were created
for educational achievement to become a form of social or cultural capital
that could be converted into job security, greater socio-economic benefits,
professional autonomy or authority. In the new ideological formulation,
education would substantially counter and overcome the effects of racial
discrimination and entrenched racial privilege.
However, there is a limit to this ideology of education as a doorway
to mobility and success. Though such cultural capital may serve as
prerequisites for mobility, minorities with equivalent qualifications as
114 Deborah Woo
white males have reaped far lower returns (Federal Glass Ceiling
Commission 1995). Under such conditions, culturalist explanations for
success are more ideological than sociological, and differences in
opportunity structures rather than culture or ethnicity should prompt
an empirical reexamination of these issues. Although the preceding
analysis sought to bring a structural or class analysis to mobility, the
point was not to rule out cultural factors entirely. Indeed, if cultural
factors have been inadequate as explanation, it may be because it has
not been appreciated how enmeshed they are with political ideology as
well as with institutional arrangements.
Conclusions
In the public discussion of Asian migration to the United States we see

a classic test of a much celebrated case of the relationship between
culture, ethnicity and economy. Asians in America are portrayed as a
more or less unqualified success story, as visible models of social mobil-
ity, especially as professionals and entrepreneurs. In the American
media, they appear not only in this way to vindicate the ‘rags to riches’
narrative in which willingness to ‘get an education’ or ‘get up and go’
is fully rewarded; but also vital to the idea of a model minority is that
other – less successful – groups have a weakened case for citing obsta-
cles to their own success.
This chapter has interrogated this well-worked theme, of public
media coverage of Asians in America, in three principal ways. First of
all, it examined the propositions of the narrative empirically; second,
the culture mobility thesis was subjected to critical scrutiny; and third,
there was discussion of what the ideological force of the narrative
might be. Empirical re-examination showed the claims of mobility to
be seriously questionable in several respects. Media accounts frequently
chose dramatic individual instances of business success where in fact
prior wealth and advantage were commonly implicated in the individ-
ual career; key visible groups were highlighted at the expense of others;
and Census data were insufficiently disaggregated. All these common
imperfections in the use of data weaken the ‘model minority’ thesis
simply as an empirical case, but the rhetorical political uses of the idea
mean that the idea of a ‘model minority’ stubbornly persists as conser-
vative ideology.
Perhaps even more crucially for the central concerns of this book,
close inspection of the model minority narrative showed that the widely
held view of the reasons for purported Asian success is largely a matter of
untested assumptions. While educational achievement has a bearing on

subsequent career success, the same amount of educational ‘investment’
has different rewards for different groups. Despite their tremendous
investments in education, Asian Americans are not only likely to receive
lower returns compared to other groups, but increasingly lower returns for
more years of education (Fong and Cabezas 1980; Li 1987; Tienda and Lii
1987; Duleep and Sanders 1992). The cultural explanation of career
success as a thesis applied to ethnic or immigrant populations was
resoundingly challenged by Steinberg’s classic critical essay. Steinberg
had been able to show that, whatever differences in culture there might
be, the opportunity structure at the time of arrival had a crucial
influence on subsequent group destinies. Even if a ‘group’ can be charac-
terized as having an ‘advantageous’ group culture, one must allow room
for cultural – or structural – differentiation within a designated ‘group’.
Finally, this discussion makes possible some conclusions about the
political and ideological climate of different countries in relation to the
principal intellectual discourse. In Europe the concepts of social class
and capitalist economic order have long dominated the agenda of
social science. Two questions have served as a double-edged leitmotif:
are the working classes of industrialized societies able to present a real
challenge to the capitalist order? Or is a measure of welfare and redistri-
bution able to placate the exploited and poor? These political ques-
tions have long been part of the social scientific critical imagination.
But the social science emphasis shifted as the world political and econ-
omic order changed so dramatically in the last decade of the twentieth
century with the globalization of market economies (Friedman 2000).
European nation-states were forced to address new questions about
racism and national identity in response to increased ethnic diversity
and narrowly nationalist anti-Europeanisms in virtually all states of the
European Union. Le Pen’s racist National Front in France was mirrored,
if less starkly, in many other states of the Union, as well as in the
former socialist Eastern Europe. Such social movements kept racism
and nationalism firmly on the sociological agenda.
By contrast in the United States a ‘racial question’ was on the national
agenda from its birth when a large segment of the national economy was
dependent on the enslavement of Africans whose descendants continued
to be suppressed and excluded even after slavery’s abolition. The dis-
course of race persists long after the biological notion of race has been
discredited. However, the terms of that discourse have been significantly
altered, if not transformed, by the emergence of a pattern of ethnic
diversity which disrupts the ‘black–white’ paradigm.
116 Deborah Woo
Because the discourse of class has, to a much greater degree than in

Europe, been submerged, the idea of class determinacy has offered rela-
tively little rebuke to the idea of openness and unfettered mobility.
Instead, the ideology of the model minority was deposited in a climate
quite ready to accept a cultural thesis. It is a thesis whose ideological pur-
poses are bared when an awareness of ethnic difference is critically com-
bined with an awareness of class difference and opportunity structures.
Notes
1. This chapter is adapted from ‘Inventing and Reinventing of Model
Minorities’, in Deborah Woo, Glass Ceilings and Asian Americans: The New
Face of Workplace Barriers (Altamira Press, 1999).
2. While the Census Bureau has published different population estimates for
Asian and Pacific Islanders, there is little question that their rate of growth has
surpassed other groups, including blacks, Hispanics and non-Hispanic whites.
Now the third largest minority, after blacks and Hispanics, they were expected
to approximate 9.9 million or 4 per cent of the US population, by the year
2000. In 1970, the Asian American population numbered 1.4 million. By
1980, that population had more than doubled to 3.5 million, or 1.5 per cent
of the total US population of 226.5 million. The 1980 figures represent a
doubling of the population since 1970. And by 1990, they numbered
7.3 million, having doubled their size since 1980.
3. Although such activity was not as prevalent among some groups, such as
Filipinos, Vietnamese and Cambodians (Min 1986–87; Huynh 1996; G.L. Lee
1996), small business participation for other Asian subgroups exceeded that of
the general population. Whereas 6.4 per cent of the total population were self-
employed, 9 per cent of Koreans reported that they owned their own busi-
nesses, followed by 7.1 per cent of Asian Indians, 7 per cent of Japanese, and
6.6 per cent of Chinese. Only 1.3 per cent of blacks, by contrast, were so listed
(Waldinger et al. 1990: 56). Similarly, among the Spanish-speaking popula-
tions, the percentage of business ownership was smaller: 4.7 per cent of
Cubans, 1.7 per cent of Hispanics, 1.6 per cent of Mexicans and 0.7 per cent of
Puerto Ricans owned their own businesses.
4. The ‘modal’ tendency simply refers to the ‘frequency’ of an occurrence on
any given measure or indicator.
5. The report from which these figures were drawn was a May 1995 study by
the US Department of Commerce, Housing in Metropolitan Areas.
6. Nina Chen (1995) made two additional observations relevant to interpret-
ing the housing situation of Asian Americans: 1) that the value of homes
was based on owners’ estimates regarding what their home might sell for on
the open market rather than on computations by an impartial appraiser,
and 2) that Asian Pacific Americans were eight times more likely than
whites to live in ‘crowded’ households, defined by the Census Bureau as
having more than one person per room.
7. Filipinos have been underrepresented in small business, whereas Koreans
are heavily concentrated here, more so than other Asian Americans and/or
other immigrant groups. According to Min, ‘The Korean group shows the
highest rate of self-employment among seventeen recent immigrant groups
classified in the 1980 Census, while the Filipino group ranks fifteenth,
ahead only of the Portuguese and Haitian groups…’ Min theorized about
distinctions between Filipino and Korean immigrants that might explain
their differential distribution. For one, Filipino immigrants are more highly
represented as professional or white-collar workers in non-Filipino firms,
which itself might be traced to the fact that the Philippines is an English-
speaking country. In contrast, Koreans had greater language barriers to
entering the US general labour market. In addition, as immigrants they
have some history of working in an industrial business economy, which
can be seen as giving them an ‘advantage’ when it came to starting up small
businesses (Min 1986–87: 56).
8. Values alone – seen as wants, preferences or subjective inclinations – are
inadequate for understanding action or conduct. Culture of poverty theo-
ries notwithstanding, blacks themselves have highly valued education as a
path to mobility, leading some researchers to explore the gap between these
abstract and concrete attitudes, and their different implications for predict-
ing achievement or mobility outcomes (Zweigenhaft and Domhoff 1998).
For this same reason, sociologist Ann Swidler argued against this conven-
tional view of culture in favour of defining culture as a repertoire of skills,
habits or styles that organize action (Swidler 1986).
9. Kwoh (1947) similarly explained the paucity of business persons among
American-born Chinese graduates to the low prestige and lack of opportu-
nity for mobility afforded by such work, along with the expectations asso-
ciated with their college training.
10. The disappearance of the esusu has been attributed to the patriarchal rela-
tionship between the American plantation owners and their slaves. In con-
trast to West Indian slaves, whose absentee owners permitted them to
develop their own subsistence economy (if only out of necessity, because
the slave population here was much larger relative to slaveowners),
American slaveowners discouraged their slaves from independently culti-
vating their own plots of land or else devoting themselves to trades and
crafts. Moreover, slaves in the United States were legally denied the right to
maintain their own traditions, customs and language, and otherwise posi-
tioned to ‘absorb the culture of the slaveowner’ (Light 1987). In his study of
the Mississippi Chinese, James Loewen further underscores the importance
of situational factors by explaining how a variety of situational and struc-
tural factors positioned the Chinese so that they were able to become pros-
perous in the grocery business, a ‘ready-made niche’ unavailable to blacks.
Mississippi Chinese, in fact, were more concentrated in the grocery business
than other Chinese immigrants (‘with identical geographic and class
origins’) elsewhere in the United States (Loewen 1988: 32–57).
11. As Portes and Rumbaut (1990: 77–8) explain: ‘A first problem with cultural-
istic theories … is that they are always post-factum (that is, they are invoked
once a group has achieved a notable level of business success, but they
seldom anticipate which ones will do so). A second problem is the diversity
of national and religious backgrounds of entrepreneurially oriented groups.
Among minorities with high rates of business ownership, we find Jews and
118 Deborah Woo
Arabs, southern and northern Europeans, Asians, and Latin Americans.

They practise Protestantism, Catholicism, Greek Orthodoxy, Buddhism,
Confuicianism, Shintoism and Islam. If a set of unique entrepreneurial
“values” must be associated with each of these distinct religio-cultural back-
grounds, it is difficult to see what is left out as a point of comparison. This
theoretical untidiness is compounded by the presence of other groups of
similar cultural and religious origins that are not significantly represented
among minority business owners. Why, for example, are Chinese Buddhists
prone to entrepreneurship, but not Buddhist Cambodians; why Catholic
Cubans and not Catholic Dominicans? A theory that must invent a unique
explanation for each positive instance or for each exception ends up by
explaining nothing.’
12. According to Karl Mannheim (1936), dominant groups, given that the exist-
ing order supports their own group interests, will be particularly invested in
an ideology that supports the status quo.
13. While acknowledging that cultural values certainly played an important
role in promoting literacy, study and intellectual achievement, Steinberg
directly questioned the viability of the Jewish Horatio Alger myth as cultural
ideology. Pre-immigration skills were also critical, and it happened that the
industrial skills of Eastern European Jews intersected well with the needs of
the burgeoning American industrial economy. Their decision to become
merchants, shopkeepers, money lenders and liquor traders, on the other
hand, cannot simply be attributed to cultural traits since these were occupa-
tions they might not otherwise have engaged in were it not discriminatory
laws that restricted their ability to own land (Schwarz 1956; Steinberg 1982;
Cowan and Schwartz Cowan 1989).
Part II
Empirical Explorations
7
The Ugandan Asians in Sweden –
Twenty-five Years after the Expulsion
Charles Westin
Introduction
Modern immigration to Sweden divides into four distinct phases. First

came refugees from neighbouring countries between 1940 and 1948.
Second, there was labour migration from Finland and Southern Europe
from around 1949 to 1971. This was followed by a period of family
reunification and of the arrival of refugees from Third World countries
(1972–89). Finally, asylum-seekers came from South Eastern Europe
and the Middle East during the 1990s. The positive experiences of
employing refugees in the workforce during the war led Swedish indus-
try to recruit skilled labour from Finland and Southern Europe after the
war. Unlike Germany, Sweden never adopted a guestworker policy.
Migrant labour was expected to settle permanently and to assimilate
culturally into mainstream Swedish society.
It was not until labour migration was stopped in 1972 that a rethink-
ing of migration and cultural policies occurred. Integration replaced
assimilation as the goal of incorporation. Minority rights were recog-
nized. Mother-tongue instruction was guaranteed children from non-
Swedish-speaking homes. These policies were based on the experiences
of labour migration, but what the policy-makers did not anticipate was
the economic decline in the 1970s resulting from contradictory goals
and demands in the welfare state, global capital flows and the 1970s
energy crisis. Earlier labour migrants had jobs but no real cultural
recognition. Later arrivals enjoyed certain cultural rights but had no
jobs. The Ugandan Asians appeared at this turning point of policy and
economy. They were the first Third World refugees to be accepted with
no prior links to Sweden, and a test case, as it were, of the new policies.
In what follows I describe in some detail the progress of Ugandan
121
122 Charles Westin
Asians in Sweden with a view to illustrating some of the links between

culture, community and economic engagement.
The expulsion
Some 70,000 Ugandan Asians were forced to leave Uganda in 1972.

They represented a community that had originated with the British
colonization of the East African territories in the late nineteenth
century. Indentured labourers had been brought from India, mainly
from Punjab, to build the railway from Mombasa on the Kenyan coast
to Lake Victoria. Traders from Gujarat followed, establishing trading
posts along the line. Some labourers remained when the task was com-
pleted but most returned to India. The Gujarati-speaking tradesmen
remained however, and encouraged relatives to come to Kenya,
Tanganyika and Uganda to set up new businesses. Migration from
Gujarat to the Asian communities in East Africa continued right up
until these territories achieved independence in the early 1960s.
Although the Asian communities by then controlled much of the
economy, politically they were marginalized. They distrusted leaders
such as Milton Obote, the first president of Uganda, who strove to
develop an African brand of socialism. Many were therefore reluctant
to accept Ugandan citizenship when the opportunity arose. Quite a few
maintained their status as British protected persons despite the fact
that this status no longer entitled them to settle in the United
Kingdom. Nevertheless a significant number of Asians opted for
Ugandan citizenship, anticipating that business would carry on as
usual. Quite a few even welcomed the coup staged by Idi Amin in 1971
when Obote was ousted from power. The expulsion a year later was
first aimed at Asians who were British protected persons. But in the
chaos that followed even those who were Ugandan citizens were
deprived of their passports and became stateless.
The world was taken by surprise, but international relief operations
were quick to act. In the exceptional circumstances the United
Kingdom accepted those who were British protected persons. Canada
and the United States accepted quite a few with good academic and pro-
fessional qualifications. And Sweden was one of several European count-
ries to accept those who were stateless. Approximately 800 arrived in
Sweden early in December 1972. Family reunifications took place in
the following months. Thus the initial Ugandan Asian community
numbered approximately 1,000 persons. They represented different
sects and castes within the main cleavage between Hindus and Muslims.
The Ugandan Asians in Sweden 123
Research on the Ugandan Asian exile
Research on the Asian communities in East Africa has primarily been

carried out by historians and anthropologists (Morris 1968; Mangat
1969; Ghai and Ghai 1970; Gregory 1971, 1993). A retrospective study of
class structure in postcolonial Uganda was carried out by Mamdani
(1976). Mamdani, who grew up in Uganda, has given a personal account
of his experiences of the expulsion, the international relief action, reset-
tlement in the United Kingdom and his encounter with British racism in
From Citizen to Refugee (1973). Other reports have been given by O’Brien
(1972), Kuper (1979), Mazrui (1979) and Twaddle (1975).
Over the years various studies of the Ugandan Asian resettlement have
been undertaken in Britain, Canada and the United States. Adams,
Bristow and Pereira have presented the results of their research on social
adjustment problems in a number of articles (Adams 1973, 1975; Bristow,
Adams and Pereira 1975; Bristow 1976; Bristow and Adams 1977; Adams,
Pereira and Bristow 1978; Pereira, Adams and Bristow 1978). With the
benefit of hindsight it appears today that these researchers expected to
find adjustment problems and consequently that is what they found.
Other early studies were reported by Kohler (1973), Cole (1973) and
Kuepper, Lackey and Swinerton (1975). Tambs-Lyche, a Norwegian
anthropologist, did some comparative work on the Ugandan Asians who
were accepted in Norway and Britain (Tambs-Lyche 1980). He concluded
that conditions of resettlement were very different, not unexpectedly due
to the existence of the large Indian and Pakistani sub-cultures in England.
About ten years subsequent to the expulsion another type of article
started to appear, which indicated that the Ugandan Asians seemed to be
doing well academically, professionally, in business and economically
(Adams and Jesudason 1984; Tandon 1984; Bhachu 1985; Robinson
1993). Robinson (1986; 1988) analysed the situation for the Asians in the
British labour market. Helweg and Helweg (1990) showed that successful
integration in the labour market was also typical of the East African
Asian communities in the United States. Most of the literature on the
Ugandan Asians before as well as after the expulsion is descriptive. The
works by Mamdani, and perhaps Morris, represent exceptions.
Defining the group
In 1973 I interviewed members of some thirty Ugandan Asian families

in a Swedish refugee camp about their background, the expulsion,
their feelings about their enforced departure and their thoughts about
124 Charles Westin
resettlement in Sweden (Westin 1977). Later in the 1970s I met the

same respondents several times (Westin 1986). The current study is a
follow-up of social and geographical mobility twenty-five years and a
generation later.
In several countries where the Ugandan Asians resettled the
qualification ‘Ugandan’ (and even ‘East African’) is gradually diminish-
ing in importance. A generation has been born in the West without
any personal experience of or attachment to East Africa. It is an open
question whether the Ugandan and/or East African Asian groups are
gradually merging with other migrants from India and Pakistan in
terms of organizations and infrastructure. In 1997 there were approx-
imately 15,000 migrants from countries of the Indian subcontinent
residing permanently in Sweden, 10,000 of whom were from India.
Only about 1,500 are affiliated with the Asian Cultural Societies tracing
their origins in Sweden back to the Ugandan expulsion.
The names and addresses of most Ugandan Asians in Sweden are
listed in a telephone directory compiled by the Asian Cultural Society
in Mariestad, one of the centres of Ugandan Asian settlement. The
latest updated edition of the directory was issued in conjunction with
the 25-year anniversary of the expulsion. In a short preface the expul-
sion is mentioned as the event that triggered the diaspora, and hence
the origin of the Asian Cultural Societies in various Swedish towns. The
preface, however, also addresses itself to members who have come later
from India and Pakistan, as well as to those of the younger generation
who are born in Sweden. This is important identity information.
Everyone listed in the directory does not have a personal background
in the Asian communities in Uganda as such. Indeed, many on the
roll, and family members of those listed in the directory, have come
from India, and in a few cases from Pakistan. Some have even come
from the United Kingdom, Kenya, Tanzania and Norway. Most import-
antly, a large number of family members are born and raised in
Sweden. The Ugandan Asian label, then, refers to the origin of the com-
munities in Sweden. The Asian Cultural Societies (as the communities
refer to themselves) do not include or embrace all migrants from the
Indian subcontinent, only those who experienced the expulsion them-
selves, their descendants and later arrivals who, through family ties,
identify themselves with and are accepted as members of the Asian
Cultural Societies.
The roll of names in the directory is organized according to towns of
residence and heads of household, predominantly middle-aged and
elderly men. This directory proved to be the only practical way to
locate families with a ‘Ugandan’ Asian background currently living in

Sweden. Official registration and Census data provide insufficient
information to locate and identify members of the community.
Immigrants are registered only by country of birth and citizenship.
Later arrivals as well as descendants of the original refugees born in
Sweden would have been impossible to identify by way of Census data.
In the case of Muslims, an additional problem would have been to dis-
tinguish Asians from Africans with access only to information about
country of origin and names.
In 1997 a questionnaire was distributed and addressed to first names
listed for the 343 households in the directory. More than 85 per cent of
the returned questionnaires were answered by males. Normally this
would be seen as a bias. However, the information that we asked for
was not personal but rather ‘structural’, that is to say, concerning the
whereabouts of the family and household in the social and geographi-
cal land- and timescape. We did not seek to uncover individual atti-
tudes or values. The level of non-response was 45 per cent which is
high. Only 177 questionnaires were returned. There is, however, no
systematic bias in the geographical distribution of the respondents as
compared to non-respondents. Distributions with regard to religion
and age correspond fairly well to estimations made by members of the
Asian Cultural Society in Mariestad.
Indicators of social mobility
Education, housing and occupation were used as indicators of social

position in this study. These indicators have limitations, because in a
questionnaire of the kind employed here these variables are taken out
of the context of real life with its complex dialectics of ideology, iden-
tity negotiations and status attribution. The subjective and interper-
sonal dimension of values, status evaluation and prestige is missing in
our attempt to determine social position. Another complicating factor
is that we are dealing with change over an extended period of time –
over three generations and between three continents. This means that
only rather crude indicators will work as a kind of least common
denominator.
The respondents’ parents are referred to as Generation One. The
respondent and his/her spouse are referred to as Generation Two, and
their children as Generation Three. Each generation in this sense
covers a wide range of years. Those classified here as belonging to the
same generation do not necessarily belong to the same age cohort.
126 Charles Westin
There is, however, a centre of gravity. Typically Generation One was

born in India, Generation Two grew up in Uganda, and Generation
Three has spent most of its life in Sweden.
Formal education
Practically all those referred to here as Generation One had their

schooling in India. It is more surprising that almost half of those
belonging to Generation Two, that is to say the respondents them-
selves and their spouses, also had their primary schooling in India (and
in what is now Pakistan), the other half in Uganda. Most of those
belonging to Generation Three have had their schooling in Sweden, in
some individual cases in Uganda. Broadly speaking, the educational
opportunities have differed considerably for the three generations.
What they appear to have in common, though, is the belief that educa-
tion promotes the chances of social mobility. All generations appear to
value education highly.
The information given in Table 7.1 is consistent with the trend over
the past few decades that the number of years people spend in education
and training is constantly increasing. A large majority of the respon-
dents’ parents (Generation One) had about six years of schooling. For
mothers it was generally less than three years. Surprisingly, many males
of this first generation, however, had some university-level training. The
relatively high degree of university attendance has increased only mar-
ginally for males but substantially for females for the following genera-
tions. Partly these distributional differences between the generations
Table 7.1 Highest completed formal education (percentages achieving

each level).
Primary level Secondary level University level

0–6 years 7–12 years
1 Father 71 8 21 100
Mother 82 15 3 100
2 Respondent 29 51 20 100
Spouse 34 52 14 100
3 Son 1 13 62 25 100
Son 2 13 54 33 100
Daughter 1 12 58 30 100
Daughter 2 18 53 29 100
may be explained by social mobility. Mainly, however, the differences

between the generations are attributable to the universal extension of
the number of years one has had to spend in school to qualify for given
occupations and positions. A final comment: the marked gender differ-
ence in access to higher education for the first generation has more or
less levelled out for the third generation. Twenty-five years ago Ugandan
Asian families maintained traditional gender values stressing the
husband’s bread-winning role and his wife’s more domestic responsibi-
lities. These customary roles have not prevented women of the second
and third generation from pursuing secondary-level, and not infre-
quently university-level studies. Gender roles still differ in many respects
from the Swedish ideal stressing equality, but as far as higher education
is concerned, young Asian women have not been discouraged from
study and have caught up with their brothers.
In Western welfare states, education has tended to be a powerful
indicator of social class, in whatever way one chooses to operationalize
it. However, this is more obvious in cross-sectional studies of a national
population than in cross-generational studies, one reason being that
education as an indicator of social position in the generational context is
quite blunt to structural and societal change. For obvious reasons
changes of life circumstances that occur in adult life do not and cannot
affect the educational status that was obtained earlier in life.
Housing
In Sweden as elsewhere the neighbourhood and type of housing one

lives in are salient markers of social position. In contrast to most
European cities, inner-city districts in Sweden are not run-down ghettos
housing immigrants, ethnic minorities, the unemployed, socially dis-
advantaged groups and working-class populations. Inner-city districts
have been taken over by more affluent segments of the population. The
working class, immigrants and others low in the social hierarchy usually
live in housing estates on the outskirts of the city developed in the con-
struction boom in the 1960s and 1970s. The material standard of these
flats is generally quite good but the neighbourhoods as such are charac-
terized by poor social infrastructure – run-down schools, lack of jobs,
unsatisfactory public transport, high unemployment rates, high crime
rates and widespread social welfare dependency. Increasingly, these
housing estates have become identified as ‘immigrant’ ghettos. Without
exception the (Ugandan) Asians were provided with living accommoda-
tion in the immigrant-dominated neighbourhoods.
128 Charles Westin
Clearly the structure of the Swedish housing market differs consider-

ably from the situation in Uganda before the expulsion, and in India
before that. Climatic differences come in to the picture, but so also do dif-
ferences in the right to land ownership, the availability of freehold land,
leases, etc. It is virtually impossible to account for all the changes, over
several generations, in housing and accommodation. But the typical situ-
ation within the Asian community in Uganda was to own one’s housing.
The questionnaire provides information about types of housing, the
periods of time and places (towns and countries). It is possible to trace
individual migratory careers through the moves people have made during
the course of their lives. So let us look back. We see, for instance, that
most respondents spent their childhood years in East Africa although a
surprisingly large share appear to have been born in India/Pakistan. The
periods of time in question are the four decades before the expulsion in
1972, mostly the 1950s and 1960s, and coming to an end for quite a few
of the respondents with the expulsion. The first home in which an over-
whelming number of the respondents lived as children was owned by the
family. The second childhood home for almost half of the respondents
was in Sweden. Initially, rented accommodation was the only option. The
period of time in question is the early 1970s after the expulsion. Those
who were slightly older may already have moved around with their
parents or left their childhood home in conjunction with marriage in
East Africa before the expulsion. Quite a few mention refugee camps as
their second or third childhood ‘home’. Those who arrived in Sweden in
the early 1970s had spent time in various European refugee camps before
being placed in a Swedish camp. What these accounts taken together
amount to is a drastic change of living conditions as a result of the expul-
sion – having to abandon privately owned homes in Uganda, forced into
cramped refugee camp accommodation with little privacy, and then in
Sweden to be dispersed and resettled in rented flats in low-status neigh-
bourhoods of the kind mentioned above.
Most people have moved once or twice during the 25-year period in
Sweden. One motive has been to distance oneself from the immigrant-
dominated neighbourhoods. An informant of mine once mentioned
that the Asians in one of these neighbourhoods at first were mistaken
for Roma (Gypsies), something the Asians found extremely offensive.
The aggregated outcome of these moves is an increasing proportion of
privately owned homes. Since social infrastructure is organized accord-
ing to spatial criteria (health services, social services, day nurseries,
schools, etc.) moving to middle-class-dominated neighbourhoods in
privately owned housing was a cause and effect of social mobility.
Occupational status
As a sociological variable occupational status is more attuned to on-

going changes in life-situation than is education. However, the same
reservations apply about comparing social positions over time as for
education and housing. The sequence of occupations may serve as an
indicator of change in social status, but one has to bear in mind that
status varies over time, educational opportunities differ for different
generations and life-situations can sometimes change radically within
the course of a few years. A comparison over time is nevertheless
justified, not least because many middle-class families tend to think
about career improvements over generations.
In this study occupations are classified roughly into four different
status categories:
1. Occupations requiring academic qualifications such as doctor, lawyer,

teacher, accountant, chemist and librarian, and positions clearly
related to responsibility for large companies, such as managing
director, financial manager.
2. Subordinate occupations at an intermediate level, as for instance
nurse, technician, salesperson, non-academic engineer, administrative/
clerical work at an intermediate level, and family-owned enterprises on
a small to intermediate scale.
3. Skilled workers and crafts – such as assistant nurse, car mechanic,
tailor, carpenter, lorry-driver, assistant clerical positions, as well as
shopkeeper, trader in small business with no employees.
4. Unqualified labour in industry or service, such as unspecified factory
work, waitress, janitor, cleaning staff, hospital orderly, shop assistant.
Table 7.2 illustrates changes in occupational status experienced by

(Ugandan) Asians in Sweden. Columns I–IV give the distribution of occu-
pational status. Rows 1 and 2 are father’s and own occupation before the
expulsion. Table 7.2 shows social mobility between father from India and
son/daughter in Uganda (1→2). It also shows the drastic change of occu-
pational status brought about by resettlement in Sweden (2→3). Row 3 is
‘theoretical’. Regardless of people’s qualifications and experiences from
Uganda, the Swedish labour market authorities treated the Asians as
though they were unskilled labourers. Unspecified factory jobs were the
only work available from the start. Over the years there has been a
gradual mobility to occupations of higher status. Rows 4–7 indicate that
about half of the Asians have improved their occupational status.
130 Charles Westin
Table 7.2 Distribution of occupational status (percentages)
I II III IV
1. Father’s occupation 6 55 17 22
2. Own occupation before Sweden 20 60 9 11 before 1972
3. Initial resettlement in Sweden 0 0 0 100 1973 1976
4. First occupation in Sweden 0 8 30 62 1977 1985
5. Second occupation in Sweden 0 12 40 48 1981 1991
6. Third occupation in Sweden 0 17 35 48 1985 1991
7. Current occupation 7 29 16 48 1997
8. Occupation one hopes to get 10 63 24 3 future
However, almost half of the respondents have remained in unqualified

positions on the lowest rung of the career ladder. These were predomi-
nantly middle-aged or even elderly when they came to Sweden. This con-
trasts markedly to their hopes and expectation (row 8).
In summary, the evidence points to social mobility in terms of educa-
tion for the young (third) generation, geographical mobility (often only
within the town of residence) to middle-class neighbourhoods and an
improvement of occupational status for about half of the population.
Jointly, these indicators support the hypothesis that the Ugandan
Asians as a distinct community in Sweden are ‘migrating’ from an
initial position of unskilled labour in working-class and immigrant-
dominated housing estates to occupations of higher social prestige and
middle-class neighbourhoods. In turn this supports the view that as a
community the Ugandan Asians seem to have done better than most
other migrants and refugees from non-European countries. These results
are consistent with findings made in various British and American
studies (Modood et al. 1997).
Explaining the Asian integration
Why do the Ugandan Asians appear to have done economically and pro-
fessionally well in Sweden when so many other immigrants from Third
World countries are marginalized – politically, economically and in the
labour market? One obvious factor is the length of time passed since
initial settlement. The Ugandan Asians were the first non-European
refugee group to be accepted in Sweden. Collectively, they have had
time to merge into society and to work out their forms of integration, to
clarify their collective goals, to achieve a deeper understanding of how
things work in Swedish society, and to develop appropriate instruments
to achieve their goals. Those who were in their mid-life when they came
in 1972 and 1973 could go part of the way, but as we have seen, many
have remained in unskilled factory work. Mastering Swedish was an
obstacle to many of the middle-aged and elderly. The length of stay
implies that the young generation, those who came as children and
those born in Sweden, don’t face the problem of a foreign language or
having to learn to deal with subtle codes, alien practices and unknown
rules. The duration of settlement in Sweden, however, is not the only
answer. Comparing the situation for the Chilean refugees, the first of
whom arrived less than a year after the Ugandan Asians, is instructive.
Collectively the Chilean refugees have faced greater problems of integra-
tion (Mella 1991).
For the Ugandan Asians the factor of timing was also to their advantage.
In the early 1970s there was a demand for labour. The Asians didn’t have
to face a period of long-term unemployment as so many later refugees
have had to do. Although they were dissatisfied with factory work, it
nevertheless provided them with an entry into the labour market. Timing
was beneficial to the Chileans too, but they were generally unwilling to
accept factory work. Many were young academics who were convinced
that the Pinochet regime would be short-lived. The relative freedom of
university studies enabled them to engage in resistance politics in exile
(Lundberg 1989). The Ugandan Asians hoped that the course of events
could be reversed, but they realized at the same time that a return to
Uganda would not be feasible for many years to come – if ever.
Spatial location is a third factor. Whereas the Chileans would settle
only in major cities, the Ugandan Asians preferred to settle in small
towns. In the early 1970s, the choice to settle in small or medium-sized
industrial towns was more opportune. It was easier to acquire an
understanding of the workings of Swedish society, to establish useful
contacts and to exploit the structure of opportunities there.
An explanation of the relative success of the Ugandan Asians in
Sweden has to look at the structural conditions in Swedish society and
its minority and integration policies, as well as at the developing infra-
structure of the refugee community itself, its organizational forms and
self-understanding.
Integration policies
After the Second World War a period of uninterrupted economic expan-

sion followed during which the Swedish welfare state was consolidated.
The demand for labour could not be met from domestic sources. In the
132 Charles Westin
1950s and 1960s labour was imported from Finland, Italy, Yugoslavia,
Greece and Turkey. The authorities regarded this set-up as a temporary
solution to the demand for labour. In the mid-1960s, however, they
became concerned about future societal effects of the on-going immigra-
tion. Trade unions also became concerned about the number of migrants
and competition for jobs in the future. In 1972 – the year of the Ugandan
expulsion – the Labour Organization in Sweden (LO) recommended that
the import of labour should be discontinued. The Social Democratic gov-
ernment, with its historic ties to the trade unions, complied (Westin and
Dingu-Kyrklund 1997).
Sweden accepts and resettles refugees as part of its commitment to
the United Nations. The small number of refugees reaching Sweden in
the 1950s through to the 1980s was treated as part of the general labour
migration. Refugee resettlement was therefore the responsibility of the
National Board of Labour. Regardless of professional qualifications,
merits or skills, the Board of Labour resettled refugees by providing jobs
for them in industry. A sociologist, for instance, could be retrained as a
welder. Turners and machine operators were others in demand by
industry in the 1960s and 1970s. This was the situation for the first
Ugandan Asians. They were placed in camps for a couple of months for
medical check-ups and basic language training, and then bustled off to
various towns. Within four months most of the refugees had left the
camps and all able-bodied men and quite a few women were working
on the assembly lines.
In 1975 a policy for incorporating the immigrant population into
mainstream society was adopted by parliament. It focused on integration
and was thus a break with the notion of assimilation, that had never
been expressed as a policy as such but had just been taken for granted as
a sine qua non for persons of foreign origin who wished to settle in
Sweden. The three pillars of the new policy are summarized by the
terms equality, freedom of choice and partnership. Equality is the fun-
damental principle. It implies that foreign citizens residing in Sweden
on a permanent basis enjoy the same social, educational and economic
rights as Swedish citizens. They also have the right to vote in local and
county elections. Freedom of choice implies that immigrants are free to
identify with their culture of origin or to assimilate into Swedish
culture. This is an individual right. It does not mean that Sweden recog-
nizes ethnic group rights. It did imply, however, that provisions for
mother tongue instruction in the schools were made, and that such
classes were organized wherever there was a sufficient number of pupils.
The concept of partnership is a typically Swedish solution to the
problem of loosening the hold over people while at the same time
maintaining a subtle control. In essence it means that you are free to
express your cultural identity in whatever way you wish as long as you
do it according to Swedish standards and norms! In other words, some
basic values – equality, justice and democracy – are non-negotiable (see
Hammar 1985; Ålund and Schierup 1991; Westin 1996).
A cornerstone of Swedish integration policy has been to encourage
migrants permanently residing in the country to naturalize. The
requirement for Swedish citizenship is five years’ residence. Stateless
persons are entitled to apply after four years of residence. Citizenship is
seen as one of the essential means of integration because it brings
people into the polity. Practically everyone affiliated with the
(Ugandan) Asian community is now a Swedish citizen. Most naturaliza-
tions were concentrated in the years 1976–80. Practically everyone
who was made stateless applied for Swedish citizenship at the first
opportunity.
In the early 1970s Sweden was one of the most economically and
technologically advanced countries of the world, second only to the
United States. It was a well-developed welfare state striving to reduce
economic and social inequalities. The Swedish model was admired
internationally since it seemed to combine the best of the two compet-
ing economic and political systems – a system of state planning within
a market economy, and a liberal democracy housing a well-developed
corporatist structure, in which major interest organizations had a con-
siderable stake in political power. Sweden was neutral and non-aligned
and could therefore play an international role between the two power
blocs well beyond its population size and economic strength. Things
have changed since then and Sweden has slipped back to a more
modest position, overtaken economically today by many European
states. Sweden is a highly centralized nation-state, which was excep-
tionally ethnically and culturally homogeneous before the on-set of
postwar labour migration.
Consolidating the community
More than half the respondents arrived in Sweden within two years of
the expulsion. Within five years three-quarters of them had settled in the
country. Thereafter an average of a few individuals have come to Sweden
per year, mainly by way of marriage. This is the only gate open since
refugee status is no longer applicable. Very few belonging to this parti-
cular group have been granted permanent residence on grounds of work.
134 Charles Westin
The situation for the first arrivals was as follows:
a) In many families members had been separated from one another

in the chaotic rush out of Uganda.
b) The expulsion was experienced as a severe trauma. Everyone
suffered personal, cultural and economic losses.
c) Nobody had been able to bring any material possessions or econ-
omic assets to Sweden.
d) Very few were personally acquainted from Uganda or India.
e) Very few had anything but an extremely rudimentary knowledge
of the conditions in Sweden.
f) Previous academic and professional qualifications were no longer
applicable.
g) Practically everyone experienced a drastic change of social status.
h) Practically everyone experienced a crippling loss of sense of agency
and initiative.
These factors complicated the restoration of an exile community. In

most people an almost instinctive reaction was to try to reconstruct
what had been lost through the expulsion. The first and foremost
priority was to locate dispersed members of one’s family. The Swedish
authorities and international relief organizations could bring most
families together within the space of a few months. In some cases it
was more drawn-out, but eventually family reunifications were sorted
out. Once families were united, new priorities were acted upon.
Let us now try to place ourselves in the position of the refugees.
Within three months the entire Asian society in Uganda had collapsed,
disintegrated and vanished. What do people do in such circumstances?
How do they react? Those accepted by the United Kingdom could link
up with the East African Asian communities already existing there, and
eventually carry on with their lives. They had been through a difficult
and stressful time psychologically, but communities of the kind that the
Asians were accustomed to were well established in places like Leicester.
The basic infrastructure of the Asian type of community already existed.
This must have been a source of consolation. In Sweden, on the other
hand, the reconstruction of an Asian community was a lot more
complex because the number of potential members was small, they
were divided and there was virtually nothing to build on that was even
remotely familiar to the Asians. People were conscious about their
identities and the status associated with jati and sectarian membership,
as these categories had applied in East Africa. A very first step of the
process of reconstruction, then, was about defining oneself in relation
to others. This was done in a situation in which the customary markers

of identity that had been significant in the East African context lacked
roots in Swedish society. There was no corresponding social structure to
support them. This could lead to unexpected, unpredictable and prob-
lematic outcomes. The attribution of status was thus open to change.
Let me give an example. A former teacher of high standing in
Kampala was not in the best shape physically. He was short of stature
and ailing in health. He found factory work extremely demanding. His
earnings were thus well below the average. A former student of his who
had not done particularly well at school was strong and physically fit
and was soon earning good money. In this new situation the relative
status of these two men was confused and problematic.
It soon became clear that the communities based on sect and jati mem-
bership that had come into existence in East Africa were not functional in
Sweden. People recognized that they couldn’t continue to assert these
distinctive identities against one another. Hindus of different caste and
jati backgrounds found ways to cooperate so as to achieve joint aims and
common goods. So did Muslims of different sectarian denominations.
The local Swedish authorities generally took a benevolent view to
requests for graveyards, temples and mosques voiced by spokesmen for
the Hindus and Muslims respectively. Cultural support was another
domain that the authorities understood. Local libraries received extra
grants to purchase Indian books, journals and films. In the educational
field the organization of mother tongue instruction (in Gujarati) provided
jobs for a few qualified teachers. In time most people seemed to be able to
deal with the traumatic events of the expulsion. A sense of common
destiny evolved. Friendships developed across boundaries that normally
would have been difficult to bridge in Uganda. Most people realized that
there would be no ‘return’ to Uganda and that settlement in the United
Kingdom, Canada or the United States was, realistically, out of the ques-
tion. Within the course of some six or seven years most people under-
stood that they would have to make the best of a life in Sweden.
An important explanation for the relatively smooth integration of
the Ugandan Asians in Sweden was about social cohesion within the
group. Consolidating the Asian community meant exploiting the
opportunities that the Swedish integration and immigrant policy pro-
vided, and hence forming organizations to promote common interests
once these were identified. This meant downplaying differentiating
factors – caste and jati, sect and religion – and promoting or emphasiz-
ing factors that were common to all. This reorientation was slow but
began to take discernible shape.
136 Charles Westin
Differentiating and common factors
The Ugandan Asian community in Sweden is approximately one third

Muslim and two-thirds Hindu. This reflects the situation in Uganda
before the expulsion. Sectarian distinctions are mainly typical of the
Shia Muslim community (Ismaelis, Daudi Bohoras and Ithnasheris), but
only about half of the Muslim respondents state that they belong to
one of these sects. This may be due to a reluctance to disclose sensitive
identity information in a questionnaire. It contrasts, however, with the
willingness to inform me about sectarian affiliation in the 1973 inter-
views. On those occasions everyone belonging to the Muslim commu-
nity made their identity quite clear. In lists prepared by the authorities
that year the Muslims were classified according to age, sex, family posi-
tion and sectarian affiliation. The latter was something the Muslims
themselves must have pointed out, not information that Swedish
authorities would have asked for on their own initiative. The apparent
reluctance to reveal one’s sectarian identity in the questionnaire con-
trasts moreover with the situation in Uganda before the expulsion.
Surprisingly few mention affiliation with the Ismaeli community, which
was the sect with the strongest sense of distinctiveness in Uganda.
Similarly the Hindu community in Uganda was divided in a number
of competing communities based on caste and jati distinctions
(Brahmins, Lohanas, Patels, Mochis, etc.). In the 1997 questionnaire a
majority of the Hindus also refrained from referring to caste or jati
categorizations. Even for Hindus, then, it appears to be important to
downplay divisions within the community. Emphasizing sectarian or jati
distinctiveness in the Swedish context is seen as an obstacle to achieving
common goals. People have generally accepted that cooperation rather
than competition is necessary for a small vulnerable community to
survive.
A gradual reorientation and adjustment is taking place to life in a
modern welfare state. Religion is not practised as actively as before,
family size is conforming to the Swedish norm, husbands participate in
housework which used not to be the case. These are experiences that
all the Asians have in common, regardless of their former position in
Uganda. The changes are largely determined by the economic and
structural realities in Swedish society – wage levels, income taxes, social
security, housing conditions, educational opportunities, the labour
market, and so on. Sectarian and jati distinctions that were the driving
force of economically and politically competitive communities in East
Africa are downplayed. This is not to say that people aren’t aware of
the traditional categorizations, but they just aren’t functional in the

Swedish context for this small and rather vulnerable group.
Common language is an obvious factor uniting a majority of the
Asians – Hindus and Muslims alike. The Asians were multilingual in
the East African setting. English was the language of education, organ-
izations and politics, and was used to some extent in business. Swahili
was otherwise the main language of commerce and trade. Gujarati and
the other Indian languages were primarily spoken at home. An over-
whelming number of respondents – more than 90 per cent – grew up
with Gujarati as their family language. Children were naturally social-
ized into these languages.
All but one respondent mention that the language spoken mutually
by parents (Generation One) was an Indian language, predominantly
Gujarati. In their own family (Generation Two) spouses communicate
with one another in Gujarati (or one of the other Indian languages) in
87 per cent of the cases. Swedish is used by about 8 per cent. Finally
25 per cent of the respondents mention that the language spoken by
their children in mutual conversation is Swedish. Indian languages still
predominate (70 per cent). Proficiency in Gujarati – for many also
Hindi and Urdu – enables people to share Indian/Pakistani cultural
works – media, films, videos, books and above all music. In turn the
demand for cultural products is a motivating force for joint organiza-
tions. Traditional clothing is an obvious marker of cultural identity.
More than a third of the respondents regularly wear ethnically distinc-
tive clothing. Practically all families cook Indian or Pakistani food.
Jointly the Asians constitute a small market for Indian and Pakistani
music, films, clothes and ‘ethnic’ food.
In the long-term perspective Swedish will inevitably increase its hold
over the young generation. In a generation to come the use of Swedish
within families is likely to have increased. Siblings who have attended
Swedish day care nurseries may continue to communicate in Swedish
long after they have left day nurseries.
Demographic prospects
The total population of the Ugandan Asian community in Sweden is

increasing at a very slow pace. This contrasts with the trend for other
refugee communities in Sweden (Syrian Christians, Kurds, Iranians,
Chileans, Somalis, etc.) for whom immigration on grounds of refugee
status is accepted. Young families have adapted to the western norm of
having only one or two children. There are compelling economic
138 Charles Westin
reasons to limit the size of one’s family for people with moderate
incomes. Yet the Asian families in Sweden still have a birth-rate above
the average for Sweden. In East Africa, on the other hand, families of six
to eight children were not uncommon. Families arriving from Uganda
in 1972 and 1973 were often large. Indeed, it was claimed in the 1960s
that the Asian communities in East Africa were among the fastest
growing populations in the world. A second reason for the slow popula-
tion increase is a constant drain of young people to the United
Kingdom, United States and Canada for purposes of marriage and study.
In the long run the slow growth of the community is a threat to its
survival. The drain of young people needs to be balanced by an in-
migration. This can only be done through marriage. Most marriages
(75 per cent) reported in the questionnaire have taken place after 1972
in Sweden. In East Africa the Asians as a rule observed strict principles
of endogamy. Ideally marriages were arranged. For most Hindus a
marriage partner would have to conform to a set of criteria with regard
to family, villages of origin, jati and caste. Differences of status between
families would be given due consideration in negotiations about
dowries. Similar rules applied to the Muslims, though for them sectar-
ian membership was the most important criterion. In East Africa the
Asian communities were sufficiently large to provide a pool of eligible
marriage partners. Still it appears that for a number of reasons finding
marriage partners in Gujarat was frequently practised. Bringing in a
marriage partner for one’s son or daughter from Gujarat was a means
to ensure continuity of one’s business, but in a wider context also of
one’s community. In the 1960s the marriage institution was gradually
modernized. Love marriages were accepted as long as the liaison con-
formed to the rules, or could be defined as doing so, and provided that
parents could reach an agreement on the intricate balance of the value
of dowries in relation to prestige. The rules were a front, an ideal that
one was supposed to adhere to. There seems to have been leeway for
unorthodox solutions by redefining the identity of the groom or bride.
During the early years in Sweden arranging appropriate marriages
was of great concern to parents. They became more active than before
in finding suitable marriage partners for their sons and daughters. This
return to traditional ways was a response to a vulnerable position.
Families needed to be strong and consolidated. The traditional rules
represented an opportunity to expand the community by bringing in
new members. In the 1970s most families thus stressed the importance
of observing the marriage rules of the community to which they
belonged.
According to the 1997 survey practically all marriages within the

Asian community have taken place with persons accepted as members
of the Asian community. Quite a few of the respondents were married
before they came to Sweden, but 75 per cent of the marriages in
Generation Two have taken place after the expulsion. In most of these
cases spouses were brought from India and Pakistan. It has proved more
difficult to find a partner from the United Kingdom willing to marry in
Sweden than vice versa. It is easier, on the other hand, to find marriage
partners in India and Pakistan fitting the traditional criteria who are
willing to come to Sweden. A few marriages with Swedes have taken
place but these seem to be exceptions, and it appears that these persons
quite often become marginalized in relation to the Asian community.
Respecting the rules of endogamy means reasserting the importance
of caste, jati and sect. Although India is modernizing rapidly, modern-
ization has not basically affected life in small-scale society in rural
villages and small towns. Traditional values and classifications still
determine much of social life. Bringing in marriage partners from
Gujarat in accordance with the customary rules can be somewhat prob-
lematic because it goes against the adaptive strategy of downplaying
traditional categorizations. It is something of a Catch-22 situation. The
Asians seem to live in two different worlds – traditional divisions of
rural Gujarat and the emerging ecumenical community in Sweden.
This small ecumenical community is a practical and functional solu-
tion to constraints that the international system of states has placed on
the movement across international boundaries and that affect this
group of people who by a freak of fate happened to end up in Sweden.
The community in Sweden, however, has access to a transnational
hinterland by means of which both modernizing and traditional dis-
positions can be lived out. The Ugandan Asian diaspora is a typical
transnational community if ever there was one (Hannerz 1996). The
Asian community in Sweden is highly dependent upon contacts with
other Asian communities abroad. Most respondents (97 per cent) have
visited the United Kingdom many times to see family and friends.
Many (70 per cent) have also visited India/Pakistan for the same
reason. The contacts with East Africa – Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda –
are less frequent. Thus the Ugandan Asian community in Sweden is
part of a broader diaspora.
In the discourse on global diasporas and transnational connections,
the use of modern technological means of communication is pointed
out (Morley and Robins 1995; Castells 1996; Hannerz 1996). To some
extent this holds true for the community in Sweden. The telephone is
140 Charles Westin
the most used means of communication. E-mail seems to be on its way

but has not come into common use yet. It is used mainly by younger
respondents. About half of the households surveyed were linked to the
Internet.
Conclusions
The Asian communities in Sweden are centred in three principal towns

– Mariestad, Jönköping and Trollhättan – with additional smaller set-
tlements in a handful of other small towns. Comparatively few have
moved to major cities – Stockholm or Göteborg. Geographic mobility
is concentrated on the towns mentioned above, with people moving
within them, between them or to them. Young people of Ugandan
Asian origin get along with young Swedish people but generally they
don’t mix on a personal level. They prefer to keep to themselves, their
clubs, associations and social life. The reasons are partly discrimina-
tion, but also a self-chosen separateness. Those who do mix with
Swedes on a more familiar, personal and regular basis may face the risk
of becoming marginalized. In 1993 a mosque in the town of
Trollhättan was burnt down by racists. This mosque had been built by
the Ugandan Asian Shia Muslim community as the first regular mosque
in Sweden. It has been rebuilt after the fire. As with all others of non-
European origin, the Asians have experienced an increase in militant
racism during the 1990s.
This brings us back to the telephone directory which was our point
of departure. The directory lists those who identify themselves as
members of the (Ugandan) Asian communities in Sweden and who are
accepted as members by these communities. Individuals who don’t
identify themselves with these communities even though they may
have been victims of the expulsion, and those who aren’t accepted as
members for some reason, are not listed. The directory excludes those
who have chosen to remain outside the (Ugandan) Asian communities,
and those who have been rejected or denied membership. The roll of
names in the directory, reflecting the body of people behind it, indi-
cates that the vast majority of migrants from India and Pakistan are
not associated with the Asian Cultural Societies referred to in this
directory.
The roll may be seen, then, as a statement of self-defined collective
identity. Although the Ugandan label is rarely used nowadays in
(public) self-references, the collective memory of the expulsion is emo-
tionally highly significant and a source of distinctiveness. Using
Cohen’s terminology, the expulsion turned the earlier Gujarati trade

diaspora into a victim diaspora (Cohen 1997). It was a traumatic event
binding those who experienced it at first hand, their descendants and
relatives by marriage together into a distinct group. Social cohesiveness
within the Ugandan Asian community which is the principal explana-
tion for the successful social mobility is rooted in the common experi-
ence of the expulsion trauma which has been reinforced in recent years
by virulent racism of which the Ugandan Asians have had their share
as victims.
The first Ugandan Asians to come to Sweden arrived the very same
year that labour migration was stopped. They soon found jobs in facto-
ries as there still was a demand for unskilled labour. To many it was
frustrating that their previous experiences of trade and business and
their academic and professional qualifications were not recognized.
Running a shop or a small business was something that many hoped to
achieve as it was thought to provide a degree of economic indepen-
dence of the kind the Asian communities had enjoyed in Uganda.
Factory work proved to be an opportunity to learn something about
the subtle codes governing work and occupation in Sweden. Eventually
several families did set up private businesses.
The history of the Asian communities in East Africa is one of how
culture and economy are intertwined. In this case it was about how the
Asians exhibited a strong sense of continuity with their roots in rural
Gujarat in family life, social life and language, while at the same time
these communities were highly flexible in adapting to the new society
in their economy, politics and educational institutions. The small
Ugandan Asian community in Sweden is an appendix to the wider
South Asian diaspora in Britain and North America. There is reason to
project that a similar intertwining of culture and economy is taking
place in the diaspora. The Asian communities in the West are fully
integrated into modern society and all aspects of its economy. Still
there is a strong sense of unique identity and cultural continuity that
may be traced back to the Gujarati origins, culture and economy, con-
tinuity and change.
8
Social Exclusion and Young
Turkish-speaking People’s Future
Prospects: Economic Deprivation
and the Culturalization of Ethnicity
Pinar Enneli
Introduction
This chapter draws on data from research exploring the lives, aspirations
and values of Turkish-speaking young people with specific reference to
ethnic, religious, family, education and economic concerns. The aim of
the chapter is to analyse Turkish-speaking young people’s relationships to
the labour market and their economic prospects with reference to
exclusion.1 As Fenton and Bradley point out in chapter 1, in recent years,
there has been a ‘cultural turn’ in sociology accompanied by a ‘cultural-
ization of ethnicity’. Yet, both authors also argue that we need to explore
the mutual impact of ethnicity and class, since class relations tend to be
ethnicized and ethnicity is located within specific economic contexts. In
this sense, this chapter will explore the complex relationship between
ethnicity and economy and the interplay of economic and cultural factors. It
will be argued that the deprived economic condition of their families has
a powerful influence on these young people’s upward mobility and that
existing education policies based on multiculturalism are far from helping
these young people to achieve better economic positions in the future.
In recent years, the multiculturalist approach (later leading to the criti-
cal multiculturalist approach) developed and argued that the lack of
recognition of the cultural assets of ethnic minority students in schools is
the reason behind their lack of success (Kincheloe and Steinberg 1997;
Modood 1997; Corson 1998; May 1999). As Verma and Mallick argue:
The realization and recognition of the identity and culture of the

ethnic minority children are not only important to the child’s
142
Social Exclusion and Young Turkish-speaking People’s Future Prospects 143
self-image, his intellectual functioning and social behaviour, but are

also crucial for his occupational and social adjustment. (1981: 52)
Even taking into account the existing structural economic barriers to

the economic prospects of ethnic minority children, some critical
multiculturalists believe that multiculturalism is the solution to chil-
dren’s economic futures. Kalantzis and Cope propose that a new under-
standing of cultural diversity portrays the children as ‘“multi-skilled”
all round workers who are flexible enough to be able to do complex
and integral work’ in the global economy. In this new work environ-
ment they argue that ‘cross-cultural communication and the negoti-
ated dialogue of different languages and discourses can be a basis for
worker creativity’ (Kalantzis and Cope 1999: 267–8).
However, my research failed to find evidence of opportunities for these
young people becoming genuinely valued multi-skilled all round workers.
Under the guise of respect for their community values, the existing
education policies provided these young people with limited experiences
suitable only for jobs their parents may have had in their communities, as
will be discussed in this chapter. It should be noted that educational poli-
cies in particular do not undermine, but underpin, this reality. This is best
observed in the example of the Work Experience Scheme, which is a
reflection of family exclusion on students’ school lives.
Research background
Estimating the population of the Turkish-speaking community in Britain

is difficult, but more than half are living in the Inner London area and
most of them are in Hackney and Haringey (OPCS 1993). For this reason,
I concentrated my research in these two boroughs. The fieldwork was
conducted between 1997 and mid-1998. The latest language survey of
896,743 schoolchildren in London found that Turkish is the sixth most
commonly spoken language. Turkish-speaking schoolchildren make up
1.74 per cent of all children in London, while they are 9.9 per cent in
Haringey and 10.61 per cent in Hackney (Baker and Mohieldeen 2000:
56). Storkey (2000: 65) estimated that the total number of Turkish-
speaking people living in London would be between 67,600 and 73,900.
I conducted interviews with a structured questionnaire, held two
focus group discussions, and carried out intensive observations and
unstructured interviews with several parents and teachers. Interviews
were conducted with 206 Turkish-speaking young persons, 103 girls
and 103 boys, aged mainly between 14 and 16, who are a relatively
144 Pinar Enneli
homogeneous group in terms of future employment and marital status

compared to an older group. Also they are at the final stage of their
compulsory education and will make the transition from school life to
adult life sooner than their younger counterparts.
In the Turkish-speaking community, there are three basic sub-
communities: Kurds, Turks and Turkish Cypriots. The oldest established
community is Turkish Cypriot. Turkish Cypriot males began to migrate to
the United Kingdom between 1945 and 1955 (Sonyel 1988: 11). Most of
the Turkish Cypriot children I spoke to were second generation, even
third generation. The Turks came to England to find a job after the 1960s,
when Europe and especially Germany began to accept Turkish workers.
Kurds have been in the United Kingdom since the early 1980s. Their
political status is different from Turkish Cypriots and Turks. They are here
as political refugees escaping from the dispute in eastern Turkey. Ninety-
eight per cent of Kurdish children in the sample had been in the United
Kingdom for less than ten years, while 88 per cent of the Cypriot children
were born in the United Kingdom.
Apart from these three groups, there were mixed origin young people
in the sample. Their mothers and fathers did not have common
origins. In the mixed origin category, there were nine people with one
parent from outside the Turkish-speaking community. Another ten had
one Turkish and one Kurdish parent. Eight people had one Turkish and
one Cypriot parent and only three people had one Kurdish and one
Cypriot parent.
The economic conditions of the Turkish-speaking

community
The Turkish-speaking community is concentrated in poor areas which

offer limited employment opportunities. According to the Deprivation
Index, which was prepared by the Department of the Environment in
1994 (DofE 1994), Hackney and Haringey are two of the most deprived
areas: Hackney was the third most deprived local authority out of 366,
and Haringey the tenth.
The deprivation is even more severe in some wards. According to
Haringey Council Education Services and Statistics Department, 18 of the
23 electoral wards in Haringey have a higher level of deprivation than the
median range for London. The level of deprivation in three wards is
the same as the average deprivation level of all London wards and only
two wards have a lower level of deprivation than the London average
(Haringey Council Education Services and Statistics Department 1997).
It is obvious that these unfavourable local conditions affect the

members of the Turkish-speaking community. However, not all members
are affected by the disadvantages equally. Free school meal entitlement is
a good indicator of the economic level of families and the diversity
between Kurdish, Turkish and Cypriot families. Unfortunately these data
are available for the Haringey schools only. Table 8.1 shows that in
Haringey while more than half of the pupils are not entitled to free
school meals, only 11 per cent of the Kurdish, 17 per cent of the Turkish
and 36 per cent of the Cypriot pupils do not require free meals. In other
words, Cypriot students are three times less likely to require free school
meals, compared to the Kurdish students in Haringey. In this respect,
although the Turkish-speaking students are disadvantaged, compared to
the total groups of the students, the Kurdish ones are the worst off.
Haringey Education Authority also collected information about the
families’ social class backgrounds as defined in the 1991 national census.
The data were used to measure the prosperity level of the wards in
Haringey in which pupils live, rather than to measure the prosperity level
of the parents in individual households. As can be seen in Table 8.2, the
overall distribution of the pupils in the wards having various degrees of
prosperity is very even. On the other hand, Kurdish households in
Haringey are less represented in the most prosperous wards, while more
concentrated in the deprived ones. Only 1 per cent of the Kurdish house-
holds live in the wards with the highest percentage of heads of house-
holds in social class one or two. The figure is 7 per cent for Turkish
families and 3 per cent for Cypriot ones whereas the overall rate for all
groups is 12 per cent.
Apart from the deprived economic conditions which these young
people confront, there is another challenge to their future employment
prospect: the existence of ethnic economic enclaves as territorially
concentrated clusters of businesses. The Turkish-speaking community
concentrates on the clothing industry and small shop employment. In
Table 8.1 Ethnic groups by free school meal entitlement among the 1997
GCSE candidates in Haringey (%)
Ethnic groups Yes No Total

European-Kurdish (74) 89.2 10.8 100
European-Turkish (88) 83 17 100
Turkish Cypriot (66) 63.6 36.4 100
All Groups (1700) 47.9 52.1 100
Source: Haringey Education Authority.

146 Pinar Enneli
Table 8.2 Ethnic groups and class composition of wards in Haringey
Distribution of households in each ward
Class composition of Kurdish Turkish Turkish All

wards households households Cypriot households
(74) (88) households (1700)
(66)
Highest % of heads of 1.4 6.8 3 11.5

households
Next highest % in 13.5 8 16.7 13.2
Classes 1 or 2
Next to lowest % in 18.9 15.8 18.2 18.7
Classes 1 or 2
Lowest % in Classes 1 or 2 40.5 36.4 24.2 29.5
Unclassified 25.7 33 37.9 27.1
Total 100 100 100 100
Social Class 1: Professional Occupations; Social Class 2: Managerial and Technical Occupations.
Source: Haringey Education Authority.
order to analyse the intensity of this phenomenon, the following

section focuses on the nature of employment relations and the posi-
tion of Turkish-speaking families in the labour market, with references
to the parents’ employment.
Turkish-speaking parents’ employment conditions
Five visible employment characteristics are observed among the Turkish-

speaking community: 1) the high rate of unemployment; 2) the high
proportion of male self-employment; 3) the small number of professional
employees; 4) the small number of economically active women; and 5) a
clear differentiation among the people from different places of origin.
The Turkish-speaking community members mostly work in the cloth-
ing industry. The other important economic activity is small shop
employment such as kebab houses, small food shops and off-licences. In
these workplaces, both employer and employees are mostly from the
Turkish-speaking community, even sometimes from the same region in
Turkey or Cyprus. For instance, at the time of the research there were
about 200 families in North London from the same village in Turkey.
It should be noted that the adult employment figures used here were
reported by their children, though it could be assumed that the figures
might be more accurate if they were gathered directly from the parents.
On the other hand, because illegal employment was quite common
among the Turkish community members, when attempts were made to

put these sorts of questions to parents, there was some reservation about
answering, whereas the young people were more willing to answer.
Employees are analysed in two different groups: non-professional and
professional. The category of non-professional employees mostly
includes unskilled and semi-skilled manual employees such as finishers,
ironers, machinists in clothing factories, waitresses in restaurants, shop
assistants in food shops, car mechanics, nursery nurses, hairdressers, bus
drivers and painters. A few non-manual employees (such as a reception-
ist and a priest in a Turkish mosque) were analysed in the category of
non-professional employees. In addition, the mothers who work in the
home for a textile factory or help in a family business are analysed under
the category of non-professional employees. Professional employees are
accountants, teachers, interpreters, doctors and engineers.
In the category of self-employed, there are clothing factory owners,
owners of small shops such as kebab shops, food shops, hairdressers and
dry cleaners. In the study, there are no self-employed fathers who hold a
professional qualification, such as pharmacist. The main characteristics
of the self-employed in the sample are the low formal qualification
requirements, low barriers to entry and intense competition, which are
quite common features of ethnic minority self-employment (Anthias
1983; Rafiq 1992; Ram 1993; Panayiotopoulos 1996).
The unemployment rate among the fathers as reported by sons and
daughters is high (Table 8.3). In general, three out of ten fathers are
unemployed. Yet there are considerable differences between Kurdish,
Turkish and Cypriot fathers. Table 8.3 indicates that 44 per cent of the
Kurdish fathers are unemployed, compared to 22 per cent and 11 per cent
of Turkish and Cypriot fathers respectively.
Table 8.3 Fathers’ employment status by fathers’ origin (%)
Fathers’ places of origin
Fathers’ employment status Kurdish- Other places Cyprus Total

populated in Turkey (41) (46) (178)
areas (91)
Unemployed 44 22 11 30
Non-professional employees 43 39 28 38
Professional employees 0 12 22 8
Self-employed, owners of small 13 27 39 24
businesses
Total 100 100 100 100
No father: 28.
148 Pinar Enneli
The differences between the fathers’ employment status in terms of

their places of origin follows a similar pattern in other categories as well.
Although the number of fathers who have a professional job is very
small (8 per cent), when compared with the number of non-professional
fathers (38 per cent), it is nearly three times higher among the Cypriot
fathers and none among the Kurdish fathers. The second largest group is
self-employed fathers (23 per cent). Again, self-employment is very
common for Turkish and Cypriot fathers, compared to Kurdish ones.
It is also noted that the status of those unemployed, self-employed
and unprofessional employees is not stable. The mobility between each
of the employment types is very common. Somebody could be
employed in a clothing factory as a machinist, then they could open a
kebab shop, then after two or three years they could be unemployed.
When we look at the mothers’ employment status, 65 per cent of
mothers are not in employment at all (Table 8.4). The mothers from
outside the Turkish-speaking community and Kurdish mothers’ low
level of participation in the labour market causes an increase in the
overall score, though the numbers of mothers from other groups are
too small to be reliable.
Only 27 per cent of the Kurdish mothers are active in the labour
market. The low level of participation of some ethnic minority women,
especially Bangladeshis and Pakistanis, in the labour market in Britain is
not a new phenomenon (Brah 1993; West and Pilgrim 1995; Holdsworth
and Dale 1997). According to the Fourth National Survey of Ethnic
Minorities (Modood 1997), four out of five Bangladeshi women and
seven out of ten Pakistani women are looking after the home or family.
Table 8.4 Mothers’ employment by mothers’ origin (%)
Mothers’ places of origin
Mothers’ employment Kurdish- Other places Cyprus Other Total

populated in Turkey (58) countries (196)
areas (90) (43) (5)
Housewives 73 62 53 83 (4) 65
Non-professional 27 33 31 17 (1) 29
employees
Professional employees 3 9 3
Self-employed, owners of 2 7 3
small businesses
Total 100 100 100 100 100
No mother: 10.
Among the Turkish-speaking women various factors influence the

ability of women to gain employment. First of all, most of them, espe-
cially those from Kurdish-populated areas, are uneducated and cannot
speak English. Second, women are heavily dependent on jobs in the
clothing industry, where intense competition necessitates low wages that
are usually insufficient to pay for child care and other domestic responsi-
bilities. Third, working at home for the factories is an option, if they have
a sewing machine and a suitable place in the home in which to work and
the necessary skills to use a sewing machine. Most of the women, espe-
cially the recently arrived Kurds, do not have this skill and the only way
to learn to use the sewing machines is in work training.
Women start work as finishers, then usually a relative or a co-villager
teaches them to use the machines. But again, most of the machinists are
paid on piece rates and they do not have the spare time to teach some-
body, so when they do, it is as a favour. Furthermore, as in the case of
fathers’ employment, the differences in terms of origin are important
regarding the mothers’ employment. All Kurdish mothers are either not
in employment or non-professional employees, while 9 per cent of
Cypriot mothers are professional employees. As was mentioned above,
people from the Kurdish-populated areas arrived only recently in the
United Kingdom and most of them came from rural areas, and had few
qualifications. The majority of them are refugees in this country, which
creates additional uncertainty in their lives (Martin 1991; Koser and Lutz
1998).
Pertinently, there is another characteristic of the enclave economy to
make the labour market conditions around the young people even more
restrictive. Most job opportunities are provided by other members of the
Turkish-speaking community. This situation creates an employment
opportunity structure dependent not only on available territorial
jobs, but also on a restricted ethnic niche. As can be seen in Table 8.5,
78 per cent of non-professional employees work for a Turkish-speaking
employer. Over 80 per cent of Kurdish non-professional employees, who
are the people working in the clothing factories and small shops, have a
Turkish-speaking employer. Although the situation seems more relaxed in
the context of professional employment, still 43 per cent of them have a
Turkish-speaking employer. Besides, three out of four Turkish professional
fathers, such as accountants and lawyers working for the factories and
shops, are employed by a Turkish-speaking person.
On initial examination, the Cypriot professional fathers might seem
less dependent on this ethnic niche, since four out of five of them
work for non-Turkish-speaking employers. Yet most of them are hired
150
Table 8.5 Fathers’ employment by employers’ origin (%)
Fathers’ places of origin
Kurdish-populated Other places in Cyprus (16) Total (68)

areas (33) Turkey (19)
Employers’ origin Employers’ origin Employers’ origin Employers’ origin
Fathers’ Turkish- Others Turkish- Others Turkish- Others Turkish- Others

employment speaking speaking speaking speaking
Non-professional 82 (27) 18 (6) 73 (11) 27 (4) 73 (8) 27 (3) 78 (46) 22 (13)

Professional 75 (3) 25 (1) 20 (1) 80 (4) 43 (4) 57 (5)
by their employers for jobs related to the Turkish-speaking community

such as social services, education and translation.
The empirical evidence presented so far has endorsed the view that
the Turkish-speaking community shows various characteristics of an
ethnic enclave labour market. On the other hand, it seems that the
Kurdish parents are the most disadvantaged group in terms of their
employment status, followed by Turkish parents, whilst the Cypriots
are doing comparatively well. The following section analyses the
effects of the enclave labour market conditions on the second-genera-
tion Turkish-speaking young people.
Turkish-speaking young people’s part-time work
Although child labour is usually thought of as a Third World phenom-

enon, employment of school children is a widespread occurrence in
contemporary Britain (Lavalette 1998; Mizen et al. 1999). In this study,
32 per cent of the young people have a part-time job and nearly 64 per
cent of part-time job holders work during the term time (Table 8.6). A
teacher stated that:
I think many families are sending their children to work during the
weekend, and some of the children even don’t come to the school, but
work full-time in the shops. When we have called the parents, they
said they don’t know their children were absent from school. But I
think they do.
Boys are more likely to work than girls. Forty-two per cent of boys have
a part-time job, whereas only 22 per cent of the girls work part-time.
But when a girl has a part-time job, she works as long hours as the boys
do. For instance, a Cypriot girl working for a hairdresser talks about the
difficulties she faces:
Table 8.6 Having a part-time job (%)
Working part-time Working during term time
Male Female Total Male Female Total

(103) (103) (206) (43) (23) (66)
Yes 42 22 32 67 57 64
No 58 78 68 33 43 36
Total 100 100 100 100 100 100
152 Pinar Enneli
Table 8.7 The girls’ part-time work by mothers’ employment (%)
Mothers’ employment status Yes No Total
Housewife (58) 24 76 100

Economically active (40) 17 83 100
Total (98) 22 78 100
I don’t have a chance to sit for a minute. She [the employer] pays
me very little. Of course, it is bit difficult to study when you work.
In other words, when both the boys and the girls are in part-time
employment, their conditions might not be very different. Yet, unlike
the boys, the girls also have domestic responsibilities, regardless of
having part-time jobs, though a working mother may put a bit more
pressure on them not to have a part-time job.
As can be seen in Table 8.7, the daughters of working mothers are
less likely to engage in outside work. In the case of a working mother,
the daughter is not only needed to help with domestic tasks, she is also
needed to take the mother’s place in other ways. Girls have to get their
brothers and sisters ready for school and take them home when they
finish, give them dinner and cook for the rest of the family, clean the
house, wash the dishes and do the laundry, etc. Unlike work outside
the home, they don’t get pocket money for these tasks, since domestic
tasks are not defined as paid work, but as a responsibility. In fact, the
mothers, regardless of their economic status, think that it is necessary
for a daughter to learn these tasks for their own sake in the future. As a
Kurdish mother who works in a textile factory put it:
I will not always be with her. When she marries, she needs to clean her
own home and cook for her own children. So it is better for her to start
doing these things at this age. Now she sometimes complains about
things, but in the future, she will thank me for teaching her how to
cook and how to manage a home. Anyway, if she refused to do [it],
who does she think will do this? I can’t, I am working at the factory.
Unlike the girls, the boys do not have domestic responsibilities. If they do
not have a part-time job, their lives are much easier than those of girls in
the same position. But the life of the working boys is far from comfort-
able. The most important determinant of whether a child has a part-time
job or not is the father’s employment status. The Turkish-speaking young
people also work for their relatives or co-villagers and if they have a self-
Table 8.8 Part-time work by fathers’ employment (%)
Fathers’ employment status Yes No Total
Unemployed (54) 24 76 100

Non-professional employees (68) 25 75 100
Professional employees (15) 33 (5) 67 (10) 100
Self-employers, owners of small businesses (41) 54 46 100
Total (178) 32 68 100
employed father, they work for him. If a child has a self-employed father,
the contribution of the child’s labour is essential to the father.
Table 8.8 reveals that more than half of the Turkish-speaking young
people of the self-employed fathers work part-time. These young
people usually receive pocket money from their fathers in return for
their work in the shop. Hakan, a Turkish boy who was born here, has a
housewife mother and a coffee shop owner father. For as long as he
can remember, his father has owned a coffee shop. He was the only
son in the family with two sisters. Hakan worked in the coffee shop for
pocket money after school and stayed there until eight o’clock in the
evening and at the weekends. He started work in the morning with his
father and left at two o’clock in the afternoon. Hakan wants to be an
engineer, yet believes he cannot achieve his aim and will probably end
up working in his dad’s shop.
The children of unemployed or non-professional fathers do not have
part-time jobs, unless some of their relatives or very close co-villagers
own a shop and need extra help. This seems to be a common experi-
ence among the young people with unemployed parents. Indeed when
they work, they earn pocket money and this contributes to the family’s
income and some of them even give their earnings to their mothers. A
Kurdish boy, who works in one of his relatives’ barber shop after
school and at weekends, said that:
When we were in Turkey, my Dad worked in the bazaar in Bursa, he

sold vegetables and my mum was knitting for other women in the
neighbourhood in return for some cash. I was the eldest in the
home and have one brother and one sister. In Turkey, I worked with
my Dad. Here he couldn’t work because of some health problems. In
the barber shop, I clean the floor after the customers and bring
them some tea or clean ashtrays. But also I am learning to cut the
hair and other stuff in time. He pays me pocket money. Sometimes I
keep it, but usually I give it to my Mum. She uses it for extra
expenses for my brother and sister.
154 Pinar Enneli
The children of the professional employees have part-time jobs more

often than the children of the unemployed or non-professional
employees. On the other hand, the nature of the jobs these children
hold differs from one group to another. Middleton et al. (1988: 57)
found in a survey on children aged between 11 and 16 years that
although poorer children are less likely than more affluent children to
have paid part-time jobs, employed poorer children tend either to have
more jobs and/or work for longer hours than others.
Furthermore, the professional families and their children approach
part-time jobs differently from other children. Lavalette (1994) notes
that out-of-school work today is, to some extent, a cross-class activity,
since this type of work is now believed by the families to be a
beneficial learning experience in line with many elements of bour-
geois ideology concerning the morally invigorating experience of
work. These positive attributes of part-time work are also detectable
among the Turkish-speaking part-time job holders from professional
backgrounds:
Turkish girl: I wanted to spend some time outside of the house and
earn my own money. I didn’t want to work in Turkish shops, so I
went to all big shops at the shopping centre and asked the managers
for a job. They asked me to fill application forms, then Etam offered
me a job as a shop assistant during the weekends. I put the money
in the bank and usually I spend it to buy some clothes or gifts for
my friends.
Cypriot boy: During the summer holidays, I occasionally go to my

father’s office. I help him there to arrange the files, post the letters,
prepare some coffee or tea. It is fun. I enjoy myself. Also if I work
hard, my father gives me some pocket money too.
But part-time work is certainly far from being a fun experience for
those working in their father’s small shops:
Turkish boy: I can say that working in a kebab shop is like going to a
jail. The shop is like a prison. Because you are in the same place
from 11 o’clock in the morning until two o’clock in the evening,
without any break. At least I am luckier than my dad. I only have to
work during the weekends. Even when you give yourself a day off
occasionally, you can do nothing because you already felt so tired.
That’s why I code the kebab business in my mind as a prison.
I mean, I am working all right, but it is a misery. My dad always told

me that ‘the last job in this life is kebab business. If you want to
save your future from this, you have to read and become a man’
[which means ‘go to school and get a good occupational career’].
The introduction to working life is very stressful for some of the

Turkish-speaking young people, who believe that their experiences are
not encouraging and positive. They see the employment opportunities
which the community offers them as highly restrictive for their future
employment prospects, which is why none of the girls wants to be a
housewife like their mothers and none of the boys wants to be a shop-
keeper like their fathers.
The role of schools in terms of improving employment

opportunities
It is important to show these young people that they can work outside
of the community labour market, if they attain the necessary
qualifications in schools. The Work Experience Scheme is an important
tool to realize this aim. Pupils in their last year of compulsory school-
ing are encouraged to undertake a period of work experience as part of
their education. During a placement pupils carry out particular jobs in
much the same way as regular employees. Pupils observe work
processes and employees going about their normal work, and under-
take projects on the employers’ premises. Although there are some
suspicions about WES, some of the studies show that participation in
WES increases young people’s familiarity with working conditions and
their confidence in schools (Watts 1983b; DfEE and OFSTED 1997;
Petherbridge 1997).
The basic objectives of work experience are to increase pupils’ know-
ledge and understanding of self and society and to help them to choose
their future occupation by extending the range of occupations that the
pupils are prepared to consider, and finally to enable pupils to establish a
relationship with a particular employer which may lead to the offer of a
permanent job (Watts 1983a: 6–8). However, Turkish-speaking young
people are unlikely to enjoy these positive impacts of the scheme in
terms of extending their opportunities and gaining confidence in a
future career. Barton (1988) emphasizes the importance of discouraging
pupils from seeking placements with family and friends wherever poss-
ible so that new experiences can be gained. However, in the case of
Turkish-speaking young people, quite the opposite is occurring.
156 Pinar Enneli
Table 8.9 Where did you do your work experience? (%)
Kurdish-populated Other places Cyprus Mixed Total

areas (18) in Turkey (8) (17) (11) (54)
Small shops 83 (15) 63 (5) 29 (5) 36 (4) 54

Big stores 6 (1) 12 (1) 12 (2) 36 (4) 14
Offices 11 (2) 25 (2) 59 (10) 28 (3) 32
Total 100 100 100 100 100
As shown in Table 8.9, more than half of the Turkish-speaking pupils

who undertook placement did their work experience course in a small
shop, which is typical of the employment done in the Turkish-speak-
ing community. Only 15 per cent had a chance to work in a big store,
whilst only three out of ten worked in an office environment.
However, the differences between Kurdish, Turkish and Cypriot pupils
in terms of work experience is striking. Just over eight out of ten and
six out of ten Kurdish and Turkish students respectively worked in a
small shop during their work experience course, compared to only
three out of ten Cypriot students. Moreover, nearly six out of ten
Cypriot students did their work experience work in an office, while
only one in ten Kurdish students did so.
In the first instance, the Cypriot students might seem to have a better
chance in terms of their placement, yet they are still far from the oppor-
tunities with which work experience might provide them. As Table 8.10
indicates, more than six out of ten students find their placement
through their family connections. This figure is seven out of ten for
Kurdish students. It seems that only Turkish pupils received the school’s
help in this matter, and the school managed to find work placements in
an environment with which they were already very familiar.
In reality, if a student already has a part-time job, their employers
signed the necessary placement papers as a formality. In other words,
for a week the students’ existing part-time job transforms into a work
experience placement. As a Kurdish boy said about his own experience:
I already worked in my uncle’s barber shop. So he signed the work

experience paper, then I brought them to the school and they
approved it. That’s it really. It was that easy.
In other words, the schools do not give these pupils a chance to experi-
ence other employment opportunities than those already existing in the
community labour market. It increases the children’s isolation in terms
Table 8.10 Who arranged the place for work experience? (%)

areas (18) in Turkey (8) (17) (11) (54)
I/Family 72 (13) 38 (3) 59 (10) 64 (7) 61

The school 28 (5) 62 (5) 41 (7) 36 (4) 39
Total 100 100 100 100 100
of future economic prospects. This isolation is especially severe for

Kurdish pupils, since they also need to overcome language barriers.
The Work Experience Scheme did not overcome the feeling of exclu-
sion among the Turkish-speaking pupils. Ironically, they have ambi-
tions to continue their education, but still feel they might end up with
their parents’ jobs. According to Biggart and Furlong (1996), within the
depressed labour market conditions, young people frequently remain
sceptical about the value of the qualifications they are taking, but are
scared of leaving the familiar environment of the school to enter an
uncertain labour market. This is exactly what is happening to the
Turkish-speaking young people. Table 8.11 reveals that 85 per cent of
the young people want to continue their education. The number of
Cypriot young people who have intentions to continue their education
is even higher than this total. In fact, none of the Cypriot young
people wants to enter working life after compulsory schooling. Their
uncertainty and lack of confidence is evident from a discussion with
Cypriot and Turkish boys:
Cypriot boy: If, let’s say, I have a doctor father, a teacher mother and
a lawyer brother, can you imagine me in a kebab business? No way.
They will certainly find me a proper job in an office. Have you ever
seen somebody with these background in a kebab shop? I didn’t.
Table 8.11 The young people’s plans after compulsory education (%)

areas (92) in Turkey (34) (50) (30) (206)
Continue 89 76 92 70 85
education
Start working 10 21 20 11
No idea 1 3 8 10 4
Total 100 100 100 100 100
158 Pinar Enneli
Turkish boy: It is true you know. But there are other things outside of
your control.
PE: What do you mean with other things?
Turkish boy: I mean. If I become a doctor, I can only treat other

Turkish people. If I have my own surgery, probably my patients will
be Turkish people. I think the others do not trust somebody origin-
ally from this country. So at the end, after all your efforts, you can
only earn a very limited amount of money. I know a doctor. Only
Turkish people know him and go to him. And take the teacher, they
can only teach Turkish children. Only we respect them as a teacher,
not others in the school.
Conclusions
The current structural changes in the developed market economies bring

about immigrant communities’ exclusion in terms of employment oppor-
tunities in the labour market. Immigrants have been affected more than
the non-immigrant population. Most of them are pushed into self-
employment or other forms of informal community employment in the
ethnic enclave labour markets. The future prospects of the second genera-
tion seem to be no better than those of their parents’ generation.
Turkish-speaking young people feel that exclusion in the current
labour market is pushing them to make a choice: whether to accept the
jobs which their parents already do or attempt to improve their future
life-chances. A considerable number of pupils are already engaged in
the labour process working under very harsh conditions. This relatively
early encounter with working life makes some of the young people
even more alienated from their parents’ excluded employment condi-
tions. The working conditions are pretty hard for the young people,
especially the boys who help their self-employed fathers after school
hours. The conditions are even harder for the girls with a part-time job.
The Turkish-speaking girls have to help their mothers with domestic
tasks, regardless of any part-time job they might have.
In this context, the cultural focus of educational policies is far from
helping these young people. It is necessary to take into account the
implications of their families’ economic exclusion for the students’
school-life in order to understand their problems. This became most
evident in the case of the Work Experience Scheme. It was found that
most of the young people were ‘placed’ in the small shops of the
Turkish-speaking community in which they were already working on a

part-time basis. Accordingly, the feeling that education would not
bring exclusion to an end in their future life appears to be a fundamen-
tal factor influencing the students’ educational ambitions. The empiri-
cal evidence suggests that a proper discussion of the educational
problems of the Turkish-speaking students specifically requires the
implications of wider economic exclusion.
Broadly speaking, as Fenton and Bradley argue (chapter 1), there is a
need, now, to revisit economic aspects of ethnic difference and in par-
ticular to re-explore the relationship between the economy, ethnicity
and the class structure, while accepting the importance of culture and
identity. This chapter has explored the interplay of economic and cul-
tural factors which help to confine many Turkish-speaking young
people within the ‘ethnic enclaves’ within which their parents work. A
limited structure of employment opportunities within economically
deprived areas of London combines with ill-conceived education poli-
cies and established gender norms to channel the young people into
jobs similar to those of their parents. The longest established groups
(Cypriots) have wider economic opportunities and openings than the
newcomers (Kurds), who are even more constrained by their lack of
‘cultural assets’ (language skills, knowledge of the system). Networks of
kin- and community-based support which help in-migrants survive can
serve as structural constraints for their sons and daughters. Thus the
case of Turkish-speaking young people in London illustrates the
complex interweaving of cultural and material factors by which class
and ethnic differences are reproduced.
Acknowledgement
The author would like to thank Professor Theo Nichols and Ms Jackie
West for their supervision during her PhD of which this chapter is part,
and Dr Harriet Bradley and Mr Surhan Cam for their constructive com-
ments.
Note
1. There are various meanings of the term exclusion. Levitas (1998) puts all
existing discussions into three categories: a redistributionist discourse
primarily concerned with poverty, moral underclass discourse centred on the
moral and behavioural delinquency of the excluded themselves and finally
social integrationist discourse focused on paid work. In this chapter exclu-
sion is used in the context of a redistributionist discourse.
9
Migrant Workers in the
Construction Industry: The
Experience of Tunisians in Modena
Faycel Daly
Introduction
The purpose of this chapter is to explore the class position of migrant

workers and their location within the labour market in the construc-
tion industry in the northern Italian city of Modena, and in Italy in
general. It exposes the relationship between the discrimination and
exclusionary practices that these workers have faced, their political
vulnerability, and cultural and ethnic diversity. The chapter also
describes how the mechanisms of marginalization within the employ-
ment relationship, which were utilized against southern emigrants after
the Second World War, have been imposed on the incoming migrants.
It attempts to locate racism and discrimination against migrant workers
within both a cultural and a political economy framework. Cultural and
economic dimensions of racism perpetuate the exploitation of the ‘new’
working class – migrants, particularly from North Africa, form a new
reservoir of secondary labour. Employers engage migrant workers not
only to overcome shortages of labour, particularly in the secondary
labour market, but also in an attempt to displace or substitute southern
Italian emigrants within the primary market.
Small firms in the construction industry have used migrant workers
as a source of cheap, flexible labour. In the context of economic fluctu-
ations and instability, migrant workers are used to develop greater
flexibility in terms of hours, skills, wages, labour legislation enforce-
ment, adaptability to casualization and instability of the construction
industry. Flexibility has helped the employers to increase productivity
and lower labour cost by employing migrants, simultaneously repro-
ducing traditional forms of production and labour control. Migrant
workers in general, and Tunisians in particular, are transforming the
160
Migrant Workers in the Construction Industry 161
composition of the labour force in the construction industry. This

replacement process involves conflictual relationships, cultural stereo-
typing and economic crisis. The arrival of migrants in the construction
industry has been perceived by some Italians as a threat to their jobs
and by others as an opportunity for promotion and an improvement
in their careers.
The adverse relations that Tunisian migrant workers have been facing
in Modena are investigated at both the macro- and micro-level. The first
section of the chapter provides some background to Tunisian migration
to Italy and the increased demand for migrant labour. The second
section illustrates the position of migrant labour through a case-study of
Tunisians’ employment in construction in Modena. An in-depth inves-
tigation of the working conditions of Tunisian migrant workers was
conducted in 1997 in six small and medium enterprises. The study
highlights the exclusion and marginalization of Tunisian workers, illus-
trated through the day-to-day stories of the 21 Tunisian migrants inter-
viewed for this study, revealing their frustration and disillusion.
Interviews were also conducted with six employers, the secretary of
the employers’ association, the director of the Cassa Edile1 and the secret-
ary of the construction trade union in Modena. Group discussions were
also held with workers during lunch breaks and in dormitories after work
or at weekends.2 The research reveals the contradiction between the need
for the labour power and the unwillingness to accept cultural and ethnic
diversity. It is this contradiction between economic ‘inclusion’ and social
‘exclusion’ which is a central theme of this chapter. Social exclusion
means lack of job promotion and career prospects, as well as denial of
basic social and political rights (i.e. health care, education, housing,
welfare benefit and voting) (Daly and Barot 1999).
Tunisian migration to Italy
Tunisia’s involvement in international labour migration began only in

the aftermath of Independence and in particular in the early 1960s, with
the stipulation of immigration agreements with France and Germany.
However, until the late 1960s Tunisia attracted many immigrants. In
fact, until 1956, 9 per cent of the Tunisian population were foreigners,
mainly French settlers, Italian emigrants and an almost equal number of
Algerian refugees (Trifa 1987). The economic crisis and collapse of the
agriculture reforms in the mid-1960s was a spur to Tunisian migration
(Hertelli 1994). Furthermore, colonial links and labour shortages in
Europe were crucial to the increase of Tunisian emigration.
162 Faycel Daly
Italy’s membership of the European Community permitted Italian

migrants to obtain equal employment rights to those of indigenous
workers in the traditional countries of immigration – France, Germany
and the Benelux countries. To some extent, this constituted an incen-
tive for many employers in these countries to replace Italian migrants
with cheap labour from other Mediterranean countries (Castles and
Kosack 1985). For instance, Germany signed bilateral labour recruit-
ment agreements with Turkey in 1961 and 1964, Morocco in 1963 and
Tunisia in 1965.
However, the restrictive immigration policies and ‘stop recruitment’
strategy adopted by Germany in 1973 and France in 1974, due to the
economic recession and the oil crisis of the early 1970s, made it
extremely difficult for migrant workers to enter these countries legally
for work purposes. In this context, Italy became almost the only door
open to North African migrants into Europe, who were still able to
enter the country without visas.
Furthermore, strong Italian economic development, the so-called
‘economic miracle’ of the 1950s and 1960s, reduced the gap in per capita
gross domestic product between Italy and the northern European count-
ries. The living standards of Italians substantially improved; conse-
quently, the economic motives for Italian emigration diminished. In
1973 Italy ceased to be a net ‘exporter’ of migrants, bringing to an end
the country’s traditional role of supplier of migrant workers for other
more powerful European economies. Instead, Italy has become involved
in importing cheap labour from its previous African colonies (Eritrea,
Ethiopia and Somalia) and from its neighbours in North Africa (Algeria,
Egypt, Morocco and Tunisia). In the view of Ireland, this turnaround
meant that ‘what appeared, initially, to be an elementary equation –
bringing jobs and workers together in an international labour market’
has led to social conflict (Ireland 1991: 458).
The demand for migrant workers in the Modena

construction industry
The recruitment of migrant workers has been a stable feature of the

European construction and building industries (housing development
and civil engineering – bridges, roads and tunnels) not to mention
agriculture, manufacturing and service sectors. These have long
employed migrant labour, especially in the ‘traditional’ countries of
immigration (France, Germany and Switzerland). However, little
research has been conducted on the role of migrant workers and their
working conditions in the construction industry. The few studies

(Austrin 1980; Danesh 1995; ILO 1995) which looked specifically at the
construction sector noted that the employment of migrant labour has
been a stable feature of this sector. This is because although there have
been considerable efforts to substitute labour by machines, new tech-
nology and hi-tech equipment, the building trade in particular remains
a labour-intensive sector. Greater demand for migrant labour in the
building industry took place during the reconstruction of Europe after
the First and Second World Wars, following natural catastrophes and
during periods of economic expansion. Migrant labour was recruited in
the construction industry, both because of shortages of labour and
because the native workforce refused to work in this sector, owing to
the hard, dangerous and demanding working conditions. However, as
Berger and Mohr state: ‘it is a specific shortage in a specific system of
production, there are not enough workers willing, at the wage offered,
to do the low-paid manual jobs’ (1975: 118). The construction industry
is one type of industry that relies heavily upon the availability of a
cheap, docile, extremely flexible and healthy young labour force for its
survival. These characteristics are more likely to be found ready-made
in migrant workers who, because of their political and economic dis-
advantages, are easy to hire and fire. Nichols has argued that ‘such real
disadvantage can have effects, not simply in terms of lower labour
costs but in terms of higher costs to labour’ (1986: 117). In the case of a
disadvantaged group such as migrant workers, marginality and irregu-
larity are often necessary and unavoidable conditions for finding work.
Furthermore, the construction industry is mostly vacated and aban-
doned by Italian workers because of the hard working conditions, low
wages, precarious, temporary and casual jobs that students of migra-
tion have identified as being characteristic features of the secondary
market. Villa describes the labour market in the construction industry
as ‘a secondary sector both because many disadvantaged workers are
confined to it and because it is characterised by job instability, poor
and uncertain career prospects, unstable earnings and uncertainty
about future income’ (1981: 133).
Moreover, cultural racism and discrimination within the Italian labour
market have not only increased exclusion and marginalization, but
‘confined migrants to low-skilled and low-paid jobs’ (Phizacklea and
Miles 1980: 14). Cultural racism consists of ‘the values, beliefs and ideas,
usually embedded in our “common sense”, which endorse the superiority
of white culture over others’ (Barker 1981). Cultural racism is apparent in
the way some employers and their representatives interviewed in Modena
164 Faycel Daly
portrayed their Tunisian workers. It is also present in the negative images

and stereotypes portrayed by the media which influence public opinion
and increase prejudice and discrimination against extracomunitari.3
Cultural racism is clearly articulated in the political discourse and mani-
fest of the right-wing parties, namely the neo-Fascist Allianza Nazionale
and the separatist Lega Nord, who presented themselves as the custodians
and protectors of the Italian identity and culture.
The segmentation of the labour market has also influenced the form-
ation of two categories of jobs: marginalized, low-paid and hard condi-
tions, where most migrant labour is located, and well-qualified,
specialized and highly remunerated, for native Italians. Therefore
migrant labour has freed Italian labourers to move further up the
economic scale, enabling them to improve their employment status.
Demographic decline and a growing and ageing population are the
most threatening factors for the survival of small and medium enter-
prises. Some studies show that Italy has reached zero population
growth with a total fertility rate in 1991 of 1.27 and 1.25 in 1992. This
is well below the replacement level of 2.1, the lowest ever recorded in
any country in the world (King 1993; Bonifazi 1994). Therefore, it is
likely that international migration will play a central role in determin-
ing the nature of the future population in Italy. Kazim (1991) and King
(1993) attribute the causes of this sharp decline to increasing material-
ism and selfishness in Italian life-styles, which value the acquisition of
consumer goods more than family life. In fact, material gain has
become more important than having children and, as King pointed
out, ‘clearly many Italians prefer to have a second home rather than a
second child!’ (1993: 65). This may be true, particularly in Modena and
the Emilia-Romagna region, where the birth rate is negative and many
local people own a second house, either in the mountains or on the
Adriatic coast.
The shortage of unskilled manual labour has been striking, parti-
cularly in the construction sector in Modena where the demand for
migrant workers has become vital for the survival of many small and
medium firms. Indeed, for many artisans, migrant workers have
become their economic saviours (Kazim 1991).
In Modena, the percentage of migrant workers employed in the con-
struction industry has increased from 5.1 per cent in 1990 to 8.1 per
cent in 1994. Over 26 per cent of migrants employed in construction
are Tunisian, by far the largest migrant group (Provincia di Modena
1995: 50–2). Table 9.1 outlines the high percentage of Tunisian
workers in the six firms surveyed in Modena.
Table 9.1 The number of Tunisian workers in the six firms investigated,
1997
Name of the firm Tunisian* Total work-

force
No. %
Costruzioni Generali Due Srl 5 15 34

Costruzioni Giovanni Neri Srl 4 15 27
Asfalti Morselli and C. Snc 2 17 12
Edil 95 di Morselli Silvio 7 70 10
Impermeabilizzaz. Di Pacchioni 3 60 5
and C. Snc
Edil Baraldi Sas 2 40 5
The six employers I questioned also confirmed the shortage of labour

and firmly denied that their 23 Tunisians had stolen jobs from the
indigenous population, on the grounds that the Modenese would never
accept such hard working conditions in the secondary and marginal
sectors. One particular employer, Signore Pacchioni, told me:4
A year or eighteen months ago, the accountant who prepares the

payroll gave us a list of 40 or 50 workers on the lista di mobilità
[mobility register].5 My wife selected about 10 to 13 workers who fit
our particular trade and satisfy our requirements. She telephoned
them, but none of these workers replied to our recruitment drive.
All these people are, in my opinion, either unwilling to work or are
working in the black economy. That’s why there is a lot of perma-
nent unemployment in Italy, because people are working in the
black economy, and by avoiding paying social security contribu-
tions, they are able to earn more money. These are, in my opinion,
the unemployed people in Italy.
The refusal of the local workforce to work in the building industry and
the exhaustion of the southern Italian labour reservoir have led to a
labour shortage, particularly in the northern regions. Moreover, many
employers, particularly in the small and medium enterprises in the
northern regions, engage migrant workers partly because they can
persuade them to accept illegal working conditions and therefore
secure their total flexibility. Moreover, because of their political vulner-
ability, they are more docile and compliant.
Signore Pacchioni, the owner of a waterproofing company, admitted
that ‘In Italy, the Italians do not want to work. They do not want to do
166 Faycel Daly
heavy jobs. They want to know how much they are going to earn and
then they discuss the job.’ Migrant workers are also flexible in responding
to the organizational needs of firms and/or in relation to local market
demands. This flexibility, together with hard, even illegal, working condi-
tions, appears to be crucial in defining ‘bad jobs’ in the construction
industry (Frey and Livraghi 1996: 11), which Italians refuse to take even
when they are unemployed. ‘The real problem with the Italian labour
market is not that there are many unemployed, but that there are too few
people employed in the official economy’ (Brunetta and Turatto 1996:
199). Sopemi (1995: 11) estimated that around 10 million Italians were
employed in an informal job in 1995. The widespread occurrence of irreg-
ular employment can be explained, as Onorato argues, by the fact that:
Italy has a labour market which stimulates illegal immigration,

employers having a major interest in the recruitment of illegal
foreign workers, the difference between legal and illegal workers’
wages being around 200 to 300 per cent. (1991: 10)
Initially, the six employers interviewed used official channels, such as job
centres, because they would not risk taking on extracomunitari. Direct
contact, friendship and family networks have constituted the second
most used channel for the Tunisian migrants to find a job. In particular,
Tunisian migrants who have been settled in a job for a long time and
gained the trust of their employers, tend to act as intermediaries and as a
source of new recruitment. For instance, Karim6 moved from Viareggio,
where he was working as a fisherman, because his cousin who had been
working with Signore Pacchioni for the past three years, found him a job
in the same firm. Trade unions, voluntary associations and migrants’
associations have been very active in helping Tunisian migrants to find
jobs. Signore Pacchioni recruited two of his three Tunisian workers
through the trade union. The role of community networks and social
organizations is crucial to both Tunisian migrants and employers, parti-
cularly in small firms. Although most of the migrant workers employed
in the six firms investigated came from Tunisia, the employers stated that
they did not plan to employ only Tunisians.
Though personal contact is important to small and medium firms,
national origin and ethnicity are increasingly becoming a crucial mecha-
nism for migrant labour selection and classification. Selection is based on
prejudice and stereotype: some would not recruit immigrants despite the
huge economic benefits they offered. It is a question of ‘racial and ethnic
principle’ being of more importance than any perceived economic
benefit. A newspaper in Parma, in Emilia-Romagna, placed an advertise-

ment which read: ‘Looking for Workers, No Extracommunitari’, while a
family announced: ‘Looking for a domestic of Aryan race. Extracomunitari
are invited to refrain from replying’ (Gazetta di Modena, in Rassegna
Stampa Immigrazione 1996: 22). When the employer was met with a
protest, he hit back by saying:
I am not a racist but those from Emilia-Romagna are racists … . I work

for important companies, Barilla, Braibanti, Smeg. My interest is that
my workers should be good, serious and I don’t take into considera-
tion their national origin. Six of my workers are non-European from
Croatia and Slovenia. If I need more, I only have to contact friends in
Slovenia.
However, when he was asked if he had recruited North Africans, he

replied:
Yes, I had two of them. They were good, too, but they don’t suit my
case, above all when they are black. They know only how to
straighten bananas. (Cancellieri 1996: 22)
Wallerstein argues that ‘racism operationally has taken the form of

what might be called the “ethnicization” of the work force. By which I
mean that at all times there has existed an occupational-reward hierar-
chy that has tended to be correlated with some so-called social criteria’
(1995: 33). The interviews with some of the six employers and their
representatives provide a clear evidence of the ethnicization of the
work-force in Modena.
In fact, most employers interviewed used stereotypes or voiced pre-
judices against their Tunisian workers. For instance, Baraldi’s father
thinks that Central African migrants work harder and are more obedient
and amenable than Tunisian workers. This statement was echoed by
Fernando Gibellini, the Provincial Secretary of the powerful National
Confederation of Artisans in Modena (CNA), who felt that ‘migrants
from Central Africa are more adjusted to the rules than the North
Africans, who are less committed to permanent work’. When challenged
about the Tunisians being less amenable to exploitation, he replied:
In my opinion, the exploitation of workers is part of the innate

spirit by the employers. It is normal for the employers to try to take
advantage of what is possible from labour power. It is normal for
168 Faycel Daly
employers always to ask more, because the more they ask the greater
the profits they make.
These claims about Tunisian migrants were denied by Enzo Morselli and
Pacchioni. The latter classifies the immigrants into three categories:
Three Tunisians that I currently employ and are the best; South
Africans that I tried but who are not good; drug-dealers and prosti-
tutes whom I would put on a plane and drop in the desert without
parachutes.
The case study firms
The majority of the six employers are self-made entrepreneurs with

varied experience and from diverse backgrounds. Maintenance, which is
one of the most labour-intensive sectors in the construction industry,
constitutes the main activity of these firms. These were selected with the
support of the left-wing trade union GCIL because they employ migrant,
mainly Tunisian workers. Five had originally been self-employed or
craftsmen, while Morselli Silvio had been a self-employed agricultural
worker. Only Costruzioni Generali Due is a limited company. Otherwise
the family and social network has always played a crucial role in the
foundation of small Italian firms, including manufacturing.
In an old city like Modena, general repair and maintenance is a key
activity. Locally-based small firms are well adapted to this since there is
limited capital expenditure on mechanical equipment and it relies on
skilled tradesmen. Only one or two administrative staff are employed,
though they engage technical or professional personnel, either as
employees or external consultants. Generali Due employs an engineer
for technical work and site supervision, while Giovanni Neri acts as
supervisor with the help of a relative. He also relies on seven adminis-
trative and technical employees. The general family nature of the busi-
ness means that there is little opportunity for migrants either to find
promotion or even white-collar work. This can be seen as an excuse for
exploitation and discrimination against an ethnic group that is also the
Islamic minority in a predominantly Catholic country.
Cultural superiority and employment discrimination
Almost 77 per cent of migrant workers are employed as unskilled workers,

not only in building, but also in manufacturing, steel, agriculture and
low-tech services (Caritas 1995: 241). In part this is because the state
refuses to recognize any qualifications and skills that they might have.
Employers have the discretion to consign them to the two lowest of the
building sector’s seven grades. Hence migrants depend largely on good-
will rather than their own merits. They seem to be puzzled and confused
by the grading system in the construction industry. Karim, employed at
Asfalti Morselli, states:
There is no clear classification in Italy. Even after 100 years, it will still
be very difficult to understand the grade system. I don’t know from
which point they start counting; sometimes the first grade is good, but
in other cases it is the last … . After nine years I still don’t know my
real grade.
This view was expressed by other workers, though two crane operators
at Generali Due confirmed that they were in the third grade and
expected to be moved into the fourth.
Having taken on migrants to do the hardest jobs, employers seek to
keep them at the lowest occupational level by resorting to discrimina-
tory rhetoric to justify these policies. Discrimination, however, is not
often the cause of such choices, merely the way in which it is perpetu-
ated. Moreover, medium and large companies who cannot avoid
labour regulations and trade union control subcontract some of the
dirty and dangerous work to the fragile, small and illegal artisan firms
owned by migrants or Italian ‘cowboys’. To pay them, they resort to
‘off the books’ payments, in other words, cash in hand. ‘The survival of
migrant entrepreneurs depends heavily on the support of Italian
friends, kinship and social connections’ (Zucchetti 1995: 305).
The ordinary Tunisian workmen face the deskilling and bullying
tactics of the foremen and employers. The foreman still holds a power-
ful position and he is susceptible to nepotism and widespread clientist
practices. Workers are sceptical about the likelihood of foremen ever
allowing them to learn or improve their skills. Salim at Asfalti Morselli
illustrated the conflictual relationship:
Italians will never teach anyone anything that will make you better
than them … . They think that you are going to ask them for more
money when you do a job very well. They will not give you that
chance to ask for promotion.
Thus immigrants cannot achieve their full potential: whether south-

erners or northerners, Italians would never accept an extracomunitario
as foreman and would refuse to take orders from him.
170 Faycel Daly
Even when there is a sympathetic foreman, immigrants may still be

undermined by an unscrupulous supervisor. Tunisian workers are
usually multi-skilled, but they end up carrying out manual and
unskilled jobs, particularly in the medium and large companies. In
these small firms, Tunisian workers are fully flexible and adjustable,
not only to the different tasks during the site cycle, but also to the
nature of the building: new or old buildings, maintenance or restora-
tion, large or small housing units. They are carpenters, bricklayers, tile
layers, pavers, plasterers and painters – whatever is required. For
instance, Khames, an experienced and skilled Tunisian worker, who
had spent almost half of his life working as a builder, had seen his
confidence and professional life shattered by the foremen when he
started working at the Generali Due. He stated:
I am a builder. I worked as a builder elsewhere before I came to

Generali Due. One day, the foreman asked me to plaster a wall,
which I did perfectly. I think I plastered it better than many Italians
would have. When the supervisor came to inspect the work he
asked the foreman who had plastered the wall. The foreman replied
Figure 9.1 Skilled Tunisian migrant employed as manual worker

that it was Khames. He ordered the wall to be replastered. The

foreman told me how sorry he was. I was shattered because I was
there and the supervisor had not carried out a proper inspection. I
was demoralized and since then I’ve lost all my confidence and I
only worked as a labourer. I try to avoid getting involved in build-
ing. I think they have deliberately sought to sow an inferiority
complex in us, because they do not trust us.
Tunisian workers dispute that they are lazy and unproductive and
assert that employers have tried to demoralize them, refusing them
promotion and confining them to the lowest grades. For instance,
Salah, a Tunisian worker working for Costruzioni Giovanni Neri,
reaffirms this attitude: ‘I have been working as a second grade unskilled
worker, since I joined Giovanni Neri six years ago.’ He adds:
Sometimes I have even worked as a builder and when Signore

Giovanni Neri saw me building he was surprised and said ‘Even you!
You learnt how to build.’ I said I had, but he did not promote me at
all or recognize me as a builder or crane operator.
Figure 9.2 ‘Unskilled’ Tunisian workers need to be ready to carry out any kind
of work
172 Faycel Daly
Although Giovanni Neri admitted that some of his Tunisian workers

had attended building courses at training centres or colleges at home,
and some were highly qualified in specialist areas such as carpentry,
reinforced concrete and steel-fixing, he insisted that they made no
great effort to learn and lacked the work ethic: ‘They have to deserve
promotion in order to obtain it. The fact that there is no consistency
could lead you to write a novel about their behaviour.’ When told
about Salah’s situation and commitment, he still maintained that
Tunisians did not want to learn the job and were not loyal, and count-
ered that Salah did that job only occasionally.
The fact is, as Salah explained, promoting him would mean having
to pay higher wages. Tunisian workers are usually multi-skilled but
they end up doing manual and unskilled tasks, particularly in the
medium and large companies. It is therefore clear that employers make
rational economic choices about the position of migrant workers; they
seek to fill dirty, demanding and dangerous jobs with an ‘army of
unprotected, atomized and easily blackmailed reserve of labour’
(Sciortino 1991: 96).
Fully functional flexibility is likely to be adopted by the micro-firms,
above all in maintenance and repair. Here the employers are in direct
contact and maintain that the workers are skilled, intelligent and spe-
cialized. In the small firms, Tunisian workers are fully flexible and
adjustable, not only to the various tasks of the site cycle, but also to
the nature of the building, new or old, maintenance or restoration,
large or small housing units.
Employers even avoid promoting Tunisians to any supervisory posi-
tion when the majority of the workforce consists of fellow migrants.
They stated that the problem of promoting a Tunisian was linked to
external factors as well as the ability and readiness of an extracomuni-
tario to learn the trade and assume such responsibility. They men-
tioned language difficulties, unawareness of labour legislation and
paperwork, not to mention the skill to deal with Italian subcontractors,
as the main barriers. However, Tunisian workers are very sceptical of
the likelihood that their bosses will ever allow them to learn or to
improve their skills. For example, Salim states:
Italians will never teach anyone anything that will make you better
than they are. They do not trust you, as Karim said. They want to
leave you at a lower position than themselves. They do not want to
teach a lot or trust you a lot, because if they do, they think that you
are going to ask them for something. They think you are going to
ask them for more money when you do a job very well. They will
not give you that chance to ask for promotion.
Tunisian workers are therefore bound not only to occupy those jobs
refused by the local labour force, but also to remain at the lowest level
of occupational and professional status. They do not have the opportu-
nity to use their full potential, as Italian workers. Giovanni Neri offered
a concise summary of the situation:
The skilled labour force is in a powerful position because they are in

short supply, and I cannot afford to lose them. By improving the
position of the extracomunitari, I might do just that. Besides, who
would then do the unskilled jobs?
The IRES’ survey confirms this attitude, particularly in the Modena

labour market where racism and discrimination are based on attitudes
of cultural superiority:
The high percentage of general blue-collar [migrant] workers is a

reflection of a job supply that is limited entirely to the lower
job-classification levels, which is perpetuated, albeit in a very indi-
rect way, by the non-equivalence of higher-education diplomas.
(1997: 30)
Oddly enough, in Sicily migrant workers are promoted. This can be

explained in two ways. First, southerners were themselves subject to
discrimination in the 1960s in the North. Second, the superior attitude
mentioned is much less prevalent among southerners who feel a sense
of belonging to a common Mediterranean culture.
Working conditions
Though the interviewed employers presented working conditions in a

good light, two admitted that the work was dangerous and the pay
low. Karim presented the case more precisely:
I earn 1,500,000 lire per month; but if you are a very good worker,
you can earn a maximum of two million lire. I have never earned
that amount of money since I joined Asfalt Morselli nine years ago.
I pay 500,000 lire for my rent, I pay for my car fuel, my food. In the
end I can’t save anything.
174 Faycel Daly
The reason for giving non-standard contracts can be attributed to:
the bosses’ interest in not regularising black labour in order to save

on health and social security contributions and the minimum wage,
and the general vulnerability of immigrants to their employers;
blackmail that led them not to seek regularization for fear of losing
their jobs and not being able to find another. (Onorato 1989: 307)
Thus the trade is known not only for lower wages than elsewhere, but
also for widespread illegal working practices. Furthermore, caporali
(illegal intermediaries who take bribes) make contact with immigrants
in specific bars and squares in the morning where they choose the
most suitable and strongest for the building sites. Immigrants are often
blackmailed, threatened and dismissed by the caporali if they try to
report their illegal status or ask for regularization. No wonder the direc-
tor of the Cassa Edile describes the industry as the ‘Wild West’. Despite
all this, some Tunisians welcomed the opportunity to earn more
money, even by illegal payments: unlike the employers, the workers
admitted that they received money fuori busta (cash in hand).
Employers justified the practice on the grounds that they first wished
to try out workers before taking them on permanently. They also
claimed that labour laws are too rigid, making it impossible to sack an
unsatisfactory employee. The unofficial trial period seems to have
become normal practice and a legal way to pursue illegal employment.
Another factor is age: language difficulties are rife among middle-
aged men. This explains in part why the three 40+ year olds at Generali
Due have not been able to move job and have suffered all sorts of
harassment and abuse. Not only do they have wives and children to
maintain, but they are also the chief breadwinners for their families
left behind in Tunisia. Older workers feel that, having been builders for
so long, they cannot change.
Because there is no settled and stable definition of tasks, these
workers feel powerless, exploited and so alienated. Tunisian workers
carry out most of the excavation, lifting and moving heavy weights.
Abdallah and Khames complain that the hardest jobs within the
company are reserved for them:
Since I joined the company seven years ago, I do all of the cutting of
bricks and hammering. I carry out all the digging with axe and
shovel, to do this and that. And even when there are other new
manual workers, I always do the heaviest and the hardest jobs.
They must carry out any task required and receive and execute orders
even from fellow Italian manual workers. They are thus treated differ-
ently because they are considered poor Third World workers (Andall
1990), and are made scapegoats for any mistakes committed in the
company. Further, government vocational schemes are decried to
avoid having to train migrants, who might not understand them
linguistically.
Health and safety procedures are not always respected, and are posi-
tively ignored by the smaller firms. Several studies (Harvey 1995; Mayhew
and Gibson 1996; Walters 1998) concluded not only that construction
has one of the highest accident rates, but also that smaller-scale builders
have little knowledge of health and safety regulations or definitions of
what constitutes a hazard or an injury. Employers are likely to take
advantage of migrant workers’ lack of health and safety knowledge. In
1990, Italian building workers went on strike against the poor health and
safety record of their industry; some 300 had died on work-sites the pre-
vious year, and 21 died during building for the football World Cup in
1990 (Contini 1990: 10). Regulations vary throughout the European
Union, but on the best data, the fatality rate is 11.2 per 100,000 workers
in Italy in 1991, as against 6.9 in Great Britain (Health and Safety
Commission 1997: 82). However, these figures include the self-employed
in Italy and exclude them in Britain. Yet, since many firms employ ille-
gally in Italy, the figure may be much higher. 67.5 per cent of Tunisians
in the survey stated that they were given no induction or information
about health and safety provisions. The widespread occurrence of
irregular employment, particularly in the construction industry, can be
explained, as Onorato argued, by the fact that:
Italy has a labour market which stimulates illegal immigration,

employers having a major interest in the recruitment of illegal
foreign workers, the difference between legal and illegal workers’
wages being around 200 to 300 per cent. (1991: 10)
Employers and cultural stereotyping
The relationship between capital and labour has always been based on
exploitation: this case is compounded by racism and discrimination. In
Modena, building employers have not only made working conditions
more casual, unstable and insecure, but have also increased the level of
competition among migrant workers on one hand, and between indige-
nous and migrant labour on the other. Some employers interviewed
176 Faycel Daly
have used migrants’ cultural diversity as a tool to confine them to subor-

dinate position and to increase labour flexibility. This is more marked
where employers use a strictly managerial style. When asked about the
work ethic, their responses were more about stereotypes and cultural
superiority than work values and ethics. Maurizio Tediosi of Generali
Due explained the Tunisian work culture in three ways. First, he
identified work culture with the level of commitment and reliability. He
felt these were not common among his workers. Second, he meant the
ability to learn and become specialized. He found the middle-aged
workers lazy and unproductive. Third, he commented that there was not
sufficient will to master labour legislation and workplace information.
Signore Baraldi agreed with this but added that ‘migrant workers are
more available than Italians to work long hours and on Saturdays. So
this makes for compensation.’
Many studies conducted in Modena (Daly 1990; Franchini and Guidi
1990; 1991; Caponetto 1992) confirm that the feeling of cultural supe-
riority is deeply rooted among the Modenese, extending even towards
southerners. All six employers interviewed considered themselves to be
‘pure’ Modenese. Giovanni Neri asserted that Tunisian workers lacked
‘working culture’: ‘working culture is the history that a person carries
on his shoulders, so that it is not possible in just ten years to reverse
the cultural positions’.
Similar views were expressed by Signore Gibellini, the CNA provin-
cial secretary, but hidden in a more sophisticated technical explana-
tion of the ‘backward’ culture of migrants:
In the migrants’ country of origin, there isn’t the knowledge of

materials that we utilize: ceramics, cement and particular types of
construction. It is natural for this knowledge not to exist. The old
Europe has achieved this knowledge because it has been building
for the past 1200 years. In the North African countries, the typo-
logy of building, as it is currently undertaken, is only ten or twenty
years old. Construction knowledge and typology is not one of
paramount expertise.
By contrast with others, Emanuella Morselli stated that their Tunisians

had learned their working system and way of thinking. This was
repeated by Silvio Morselli:
I am very satisfied with my Tunisian workers. Everybody tells me

that I am lucky to have very good boys. Many people have had bad
experiences with Tunisians, but I cannot confirm this. All my

workers are willing to work, but their willingness to learn or their
learning capability is different. I have two Tunisians who are espe-
cially maestri. I should say that they are even better than our
Italians.
Different attitudes were expressed with regard to respecting holiday

periods, religious festivals and fasting during Ramadhan. Although
Maurizio Tediosi recognizes that it is only natural for workers to spend
more time with their families in Tunisia, he complains that because of
Ramadhan, they are not in a fit state to work and that work is held up
by certain religious feasts. Abdallah contradicted that, saying that his
religion ordered him to work even harder by day during the fasting
period. Most workers, however, have no difficulty in having festivals
off work as long as they apply in advance. Other employers felt that
their workers always lengthened their holidays without permission,
ignoring the fact that they are away from their families for many
months and that their low wages preclude them from bringing over
their wives and children. The employers rent out the houses they
build, but not to their migrant workers. When it was suggested that
help with housing would reduce absenteeism, the researcher was told
that Italians too have the same housing problems. Immigration legisla-
tion, too, is being used as a deliberate constraint to discourage family
reunion, since before bringing over their families, migrant workers
must demonstrate the availability of a decent home, a permanent and
legal employment contract, adequate wages and a valid permit to
reside in Italy. Most Tunisians, particularly those with children, cannot
afford to pay more than half their wage to rent a flat. Employers have
succeeded in externalizing the burden of the social costs of the repro-
duction and maintenance of labour, which are borne by the sending
countries. Employers are interested in buying the labour power from
their immigrants and are not concerned with their housing problem,
health and their family separation:
by recruiting young, single people, capital and the State in western

Europe were importing ‘ready-made’ workers and were therefore not
required to meet their social costs of production. (Miles 1989: 62)
Separation of workers from their families is an old mechanism based

on the ‘guest worker system’ used in other capitalist societies (i.e.
Germany and Switzerland). Italy is no exception.
178 Faycel Daly
Workers’ solidarity and class relations
The development of good relations between migrant workers and

Italian colleagues has been affected by at least three factors. First,
because migrants do not have their own meeting places, such as clubs
and bars and a decent home where they could invite Italian colleagues,
most felt isolated and segregated. They still live in crowded dormitories
or disused buildings. Second, anti-immigration feeling and the rise of
racism in public places have rendered the development of friendly
relations outside work more difficult. Historically this has included
southerners since the 1960s. Silvio Morselli was quite blunt: ‘Here in
Modena, we are already prejudiced against Meridionali, but seeing that
you are Tunisian, you are in an even more disadvantaged position.’
Third, and most importantly, unlike in manufacturing industry,
workers’ solidarity in the European building industry has been tradi-
tionally fragile and often lacking in collective action. This is due to the
polarization and fragmentation of the industry (Austrin 1980; Moore
1981), the temporary nature of its sites, and the ‘inability to establish
any real degree of control over the labour process’ (Moore 1980: 155).
Trade unions are unable to establish general terms and conditions
throughout the trade and ‘the use of different contract forms can
fluctuate according to the problems posed for capital and labour in par-
ticular regional labour markets’ (Austrin 1980: 302). Building workers
have thus developed a protectionist and self-interested attitude not
only against migrants, but even among themselves, which has
fragmented the labour force (Castles and Kosack 1973: 477).
The other part of the story is the ethnic diversity and political
vulnerability that disadvantages Tunisians more than southern arrivals.
Fear of socio-economic competition and cultural superiority which had
characterized the relationship between southerners and northerners,
especially during the so-called ‘economic miracle’ of the 1960s, is
currently creating tensions and conflict among the most disadvantaged
and vulnerable labour force, particularly southerners and migrant
workers. Even where there are good relations, they are damaged by the
need of the former to dominate the latter. Besides, because of the rise
of racism in Modena, many migrants avoid contact because many
places are becoming ‘no-go’ zones for them. Karim attributed this rise
in racism among Italian workers to a tiny minority’s involvement in
petty crime, and some drug trafficking. It should be pointed out that
these vulnerable workers are victims of the Mafia and gangsters who
control the drugs market.
The power relation between Italians and migrant workers is imposed

not only because the latter occupy the lowest rank, but because the
immigration policy has merely considered them as ‘guest workers’. The
fact that migrant workers have no political power and are not Italian
citizens puts them into a further weaker position than, for example,
the Meridionali. Italian workers, particularly southerners, no longer feel
that they are in a subordinate position to northerners and are no
longer considered at the bottom of the labour force. These feelings of
advancement and improved status generally produce some form of
prejudice and a sense of domination and power, which Balibar has
described as ‘class racism’. This is a process whereby indigenous
workers ‘project on to foreigners their fears and resentment, despair
and defiance, it is not only that they are fighting competition; in addi-
tion, and much more profoundly, they are trying to escape their own
exploitation’ (Balibar 1995: 214). For instance, Brahim, a Tunisian
builder at Edil 95, believes he is at a disadvantage:
I have a very difficult relationship with a newly recruited southern

builder. I work harder than he does, but he always tries to take
credit for my work. He reports to Silvio [the boss] with his mobile
phone or when they meet in the afternoon, he tells him that he did
this and that … and the truth is that he did not do anything.
Similarly, Khames reports:
Most Italian workers, even when we talk to each other, still talk with
a sense of superiority over us. They think that we are poveretti. They
view us as inferior, not as equal. For instance, when the company
recruits a new Italian worker, he receives better treatment and
respect from the other Italian workers than I do, even though I have
known them for seven years.
However, a number of those interviewed do have a good working

relationship with Italian colleagues (60 per cent of 150 responses). For
instance, Moktar, who was recently employed by Impermeabilizzazioni
Pacchioni, states: ‘I have just started working with Signore Pacchioni.
My relationship with Italian colleagues is now very good. There is not
any difference between Tunisians and Italians.’ Houcine and
Mohammed of Edil Baraldi say: ‘We are treated as equals. There is a lot
of respect between us.’ The two brothers Ahmed and Samir, crane
operators at Costruzioni Generali Due, state: ‘We do not have problems
180 Faycel Daly
with the Italian workers in our present company. As crane workers, our
contact with them is very limited.’
The beneficiaries of any division are the employers, who not only
feed the tensions but encourage the creation of what Marxists call ‘false
consciousness’, whereby a working class is led to fight not against the
bosses, but against the most vulnerable and disadvantaged strata of
the working class. A similar situation was seen in London’s East End at
the end of the nineteenth century between the indigenous population
and the immigrant Jewish and Irish communities.
The six employers identified different types of relationship, claiming
that the relationship between the Modenesi and Tunisians was based on
respect and friendship, as opposed to the conflictual relations between
the locals and the southerners. Silvio Morselli showed the southerners
in a poor light:
Our southerners take more liberties than Tunisians. This is syno-

nymous with intelligence. Unfortunately many of our southerners
have no culture. Therefore they replace this lack of culture some-
times with arrogance and ignorance. Because in my opinion the
Meridionali are far less educated than Tunisians.
Claudio Baraldi expressed almost an identical view, as did Giovanni Neri,

stating that the southerners have none the less more advantages than
Tunisians and invariably took advantage of the North Africans’ vulnera-
bility. Again, evidence showed this not to be entirely true and that the
owner’s brother had quarrelled with all his migrant workers. It appears
that both migrant and Italian workmates are unaware that they are being
set against each other. Employers have succeeded in dividing the
working classes into three categories: at the top end there are northern-
ers, in the middle southerners and at the bottom the new powerless and
vulnerable class grouping, namely migrant workers of all categories:
legal, illegal and clandestine. The lack of class solidarity between these
three working-class strata in the construction industry may be used as a
divisive tool against each other. It appears from the interviews with
Tunisian migrants that the trade unions were complacent in this division
and disorganization of the working class in the building industry.
Conclusion
The hard working conditions and the shortage of labour have deter-
mined the high demand for migrant workers in the construction
industry. However, these workers have been used as a marginal and

flexible source of unprotected legal and illegal labour. They were used
as a tool to increase the elasticity of the labour market, as well as to
keep wages very low and curtail trade union power. The chapter has
also highlighted that the construction industry is one where flexibility
has meant exploitation of the most disadvantaged and vulnerable
strata of the working class, whether southerners in the early 1960s and
1970s, or the new marginalized migrant workers of today.
The diffusion of the ‘informal economy’ and illegal employment
practice in Italy, as well as ‘the rise of flexible forms of production, has
created all sorts of niches for which “marginal” forms of inexpensive
and flexible labour (women, children, part-time workers, and foreign
immigrants) are apparently ideally suited’ (Iosifides and King 1996).
Indeed, migrant labour has constituted a new marginalized working-
class segment needed to refuel the reservoir of the informal economy
with low-paid, unprotected and highly flexible labour.
Moreover, the fragmentation of the internal labour market in the
industry under discussion has produced a divisive impact on working-
class solidarity and unity: ‘Workers’ solidarity becomes a weapon against
immigrants, and loses its effectiveness in the struggle against the
employers’ (Castles and Kosack 1973: 119). The old capitalist ‘divide-
and-rule’ principle has been used in the building industry as a means to
perpetuate exclusion, exploitation and discrimination against migrants
in general and Tunisians in particular. In fact, Italian workers feel that
migrants have threatened their well-consolidated working conditions
and have endangered their interests. The case of Tunisian workers in the
construction industry in Modena clearly illustrates how cultural racism
and economic exploitation came together to construct a new working-
class segment constituted of migrants, particularly from North Africa.
The employers use many tactics to undermine migrant professional
capability and to reserve qualified, specialized and supervisory occupa-
tions for Italians. The former’s acceptance depends largely upon their
acquiescence in performing menial and unwanted tasks. This strategy
will be hard to sustain in view of the dynamics of the labour market in
building and the growing number of local workers who refuse to accept
hard working conditions, low remuneration and high job instability.
Nevertheless, employers will try to buck trends. The image of immi-
grants as a threat to jobs among Italian workers is part of a wider econ-
omic, political and social conception of the immigration phenomenon
in Italy. Migrant workers are still marginalized, not only in the labour
market but also in terms of political and civil rights.
182 Faycel Daly
Notes
1. The Cassa Edile is a building fund, contributions to which come from both
the employers and the employees. Employers have to pay 23 per cent of
wages to this fund. Employees benefit from this fund in various ways: protec-
tion against delayed wage payment, illness, specialist examinations and treat-
ments, unemployment, accidents, integrated pension, holidays, etc.
Registration in this fund is statutory for all employers who must declare and
register all their employees.
2. Dormitories and emergency centres (i.e. barracks, caravans, containers and
tents) have constituted the only public housing offered for immigrants. High
rent and racism in the private housing market, and shortages of public
housing, have forced immigrant workers to stay in these dormitories.
Moreover, only the lucky ones who fulfil the rigid requirements of the
Council Office for foreigners and surmount the long waiting list, end up in
one of the 27 dormitories in Modena Province. To apply for a place in these
centres, migrant workers need to have a residence permit and regular
employment. However, the waiting list is very long and migrants may wait
for up to two years before they finally obtain a place. Three to four immi-
grants have to share 15 m2 crowded rooms, paying between 150,000 and
200,000 lire each per month. Almost two out of three Tunisians surveyed are
still living in a precarious, overcrowded situation or are homeless. Married
and engaged migrants are penalized twice. They cannot apply for family
reunification because dormitories and hostels are not recognized by the
Questura as a family residence.
3. An extracomunitario means literally non-European but it is only used by
Italians to denote migrant workers from non-European developing countries.
For example, migrants from the United States, Switzerland or Japan are not
considered as extracomunitari. It is also often used in a pejorative way
(i.e. ignorant, uncivilized and criminals).
4. All quotations used from Italian and Arabic interviews have been translated
by the author.
5. Lista di mobilità is a special register held at the job centre for workers who
were employed in medium and large industrial companies and lost their
jobs. Once registered, these unemployed workers must be available for future
employment if they want to keep their unemployment benefit.
6. The employers agreed that I should use their real names. I avoided using the
names of Tunisian workers in order to preserve their anonymity.
10
‘Not Just Lucky White Heather and
Clothes Pegs’: Putting European
Gypsy and Traveller Economic
Niches in Context1
Colin Clark
Introduction: Gypsies, Travellers and the significance of

commercial nomadism2
Nomads and the state nearly always represent a conflict of interests, a

conflict of government. But the prospect of ever greater numbers of
nomads is evidently especially problematic in a small, densely populated
post-industrial nation where land is at a premium and where, despite
massive transformations in wage-labour and life-styles over two decades,
the majority of people remain committed to the concepts of private
property and inheritable wealth. Commercial nomadism is a historically
recurrent form of economic and social adaptation (Griffin 1993: 12).
This chapter examines the changing nature of what has been termed
‘traditional’ (and ‘unknown’) Gypsy livelihoods in Europe. It argues
that gaujo (non-Gypsy) views of what constitute ‘Gypsy work’ identify
only a fraction of the economic opportunities and work niches that
Gypsies pursue and inhabit. Contemporary gaujo notions of how
Gypsies make a living – such as hawking and fortune-telling – are only
the more public and ‘visible’3 dimensions to the Gypsies’ economic
world and take little account of their flexibility and adaptability to
changes in the wider economy during the ‘booms and slumps’ of, for
example, the 1970s and 1980s. The economic opportunities of the
1990s have seen many Gypsy families succeed in a variety of ways,
some of which will be discussed in this chapter.
The main theme is that many Gypsies and Travellers have adapted
well in commercial capitalist economies such as Britain. One of the
main strategies for this success lies in their ‘labour market’ flexibility
183
184 Colin Clark
and ability to manipulate and manoeuvre their ethnic identity(ies) in and

out of gaujo sight. In order to maximize their chances of economic pro-
sperity a series of ‘ethnic images’ is often deployed, each one being
adopted in particular environments and circumstances. Key aspects of
Gypsy and Traveller culture and tradition also facilitate this; for example,
the rejection of wage-labour and the subtle values and codes governing
dealings with gaujos. Thus, by mobilizing a series of ‘images’ in relations
with gaujo customers the upper hand is always with the Gypsy. In this
context, there is a clear connection between culture/ethnicity and
class/economy: by manipulating ideas and images of ethnicity, Gypsies
maintain their work niche and flexibility, and can prosper.
This is not always apparent to non-Gypsy commentators. The ‘logic’
of progress, development and modernity has often, wrongly, been
equated with the assumed long-term redundancy (on a global scale) of
Gypsy economic life and the tendency for the nomadic to settle
(McVeigh 1997). In reality, the continuing ability of Gypsies to adapt
to changes in the wider economy has led to the partial sidelining of so-
called ‘traditional’ occupations in favour of newly emerging opportuni-
ties which lend themselves to the economic niche that Gypsies so
successfully inhabit: the arena of mobile multi-/flexi-skilled family-
based self-employment (Okely 1975a; Lockwood 1986). It is this very
diversity and flexibility of working arrangements which ensure that
they have not, historically, become part of the urban working class
(Cozannet 1976; Gmelch 1977: 35).
The anti-development assumptions regarding Gypsies manifest
themselves in a variety of forms across Europe. Goulet and Walshok
(1971), for example, infamously classified Spanish Gitanos as ‘under-
developed marginals’, whilst Vesey-Fitzgerald (1973: 245) rather
prematurely predicted that the ‘long long history of the Gypsies of
Britain’ was coming to an end. Nearly three decades on, that history is
still being made and recorded despite what Fraser historically refers to as:
a diaspora of a people with no priestly caste, no recognised standard

for their language, no texts [of] beliefs and a code of morality, no
appointed custodians of ethnic tradition … no promised land as a
focus for their dreams. (1992: 44)
So how then have the Gypsies not only survived but actually prospered
in (post-)industrialized Europe and achieved such a striking dominance
in commercial-nomadic niches? I answer these questions by examining
what are the underlying principles behind ‘work’ for Gypsies, identifying
‘Not Just Lucky White Heather and Clothes Pegs’ 185
just how important self-employment is to Gypsy families and how work

is tied into wider questions of ethnic identity. I outline a model of
‘ethnic images’, building on Okely’s (1979) and Lucassen’s (1993; 1998)
framework, which Gypsies use in their dealings with the gaujo customer;
and illustrate this model with some examples from different parts of
Europe. First, however, we need to clarify the relationship between
Gypsy and Traveller ethnicity, ethnic identity and economy.
Ethnicity, ethnic identity and economy: a myriad of

muddled relationships
The romantic stereotype of the Gypsy as an exotic and noble primi-

tive, wandering unconstrained as the mood takes him [sic], tells us
very little about the way Roma [Gypsies] have managed to exist.
(Guy 1975: 203)
Guy is quite right. Moreover, such a stereotype tells us a lot about

those who perpetuate it and those who believe in it. It will become clear
that Gypsies are very aware of the notions that potential gaujo
customers have about them. Indeed, they rely on these notions and
assumptions in order to generate a sale or a service. But first, we need
to examine the way in which ethnic identity for Gypsies and Travellers
is affirmed and reproduced through self-employment.
Ethnic identity and self-employment: a question of

boundaries
As an ideal, Gypsies and other Travellers operate largely independently

of wage-labour; their niche being occupations that gaujos have been
less able or willing to take on. For example, Lucassen (1998: 156) uses
four categories to discuss ‘Gypsy occupations’: trading, crafts, enter-
tainment and seasonal wage-labour. In Britain, many Gypsies call
themselves ‘general dealers’, which in practice can cover all four of
Lucassen’s somewhat rigid categories. The advantages of family-based
self-employment and mobility have allowed Gypsies to fill unexpected
gaps in the market, where that market is uneven and the establish-
ment of a large-scale or permanent business is simply not good econ-
omic sense. Okely (1975a: 114) has summed up this ‘character’ of
Gypsy occupations as ‘the occasional supply of goods, services and
labour to a host economy where demand is irregular in time and
place’.
186 Colin Clark
A list of all occupations that Gypsies engage in is rather less import-

ant than considering the aspects that are common to all. However,
here are some: hawking of manufactured gaujo and Gypsy made goods;
antiques, carpets, cars, horse dealing; seasonal goods (e.g., at Easter,
Christmas); the clearance of goods and waste, such as most consumer
durables as well as rags and old clothes, etc.; external building work
and repairs, such as tarmac laying and gardening work (Acton and
Gallant 1997: 23); temporary and/or seasonal farm work, such as fruit
and flower picking, potatoes, etc.; market trading at car boot sales and
outdoor markets (a ‘boom’ area according to McCarthy and McCarthy
1998: 51); entertainments, music, performance and fortune telling
(what Lucassen [1998: 168–9] calls ‘emotional services’).
Such diverse, but connected, occupations illustrate Gypsy adaptability
to changes in the host societies’ economic fortunes. For example, the
move from horse-drawn wagons to motorized transportation in the
1950s and 1960s was one of the most significant shifts of the twentieth
century for Gypsy economic life; the work radius increased significantly
as a result. It does not end here, though. Arguably, the latest techno-
logical innovation which has fuelled the Gypsy economy has been
wider access to affordable mobile telephones. Indeed, the Cardiff Gypsy
Sites Group estimates that approximately 50 per cent of Traveller fami-
lies in England and Wales now have access to a mobile telephone for
business purposes (Wheeler 1998: 171). Recent anecdotal evidence from
Save the Children fieldworkers who work with Travellers in Scotland
tends to suggest that this figure is perhaps on the low side.4 Likewise,
the now defunct Telephone Legal Advice Service for Travellers (TLAST),
based at Cardiff Law School, was purposely established as a telephone-
based ‘access to justice’ service due to the recognition by both TLAST
and the funders of the project (the Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust,
the Nuffield Foundation and Cardiff Law School) that this type of
service was the most convenient and suitable for Gypsies and Travellers.
Both the car/van and mobile telephone have enhanced their nomadism
and economic opportunities as they can travel greater distances than
previously and can accept or reject jobs over the telephone whilst on
the road. It must be remembered though that their nomadism has been
restricted in other ways, especially by legislation, most recently the
Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994 (Clements and Campbell
1997; Bucke and James 1998). Likewise, stopping places free from gaujo
harassment have become few and far between. This is not due to land
shortage but rather to much tighter controls on land use, especially
regarding caravans (Morris 2000).
Another shift has seen many Gypsy families move from rural to
urban settings. The decline of farm work and other such rural indus-
tries has led to much diversification and Gypsies are now primarily
located in, or on the fringes of, urban industrialized centres (Gropper
1975; Sibley 1990). This has always been true to some extent, but the
urban location is now much more dominant and pronounced. It is in
the southern locations that the bulk of Gypsy (especially English
Romanichal) populations are to be found, though as Gmelch and
Gmelch (1987: 136) note: ‘Travellers can be found in virtually every
British city today.’
Ethnicity at work
To progress we need to examine the relationship between ethnicity

and work. Dealings with gaujos are done according to the Gypsies’
terms, wherever possible. Wage-labour is the exact opposite for
Gypsies; it is seen as submitting and working to gaujo orders and
instructions with restrictions placed on location, times and types of
work undertaken. Accepting welfare, as is the case with many gaujos,
has become a fact of European Gypsy life in the 1980s and 1990s and is
largely equated with begging and thus not so degrading (Tillhagen
1967; Okely 1975a). However, wage-labour is still beyond the pale for
most Gypsies and gaujos’ inherent stupidity and servitude are displayed
for all to see by accepting wage-labour and the restrictions this brings
with it; it is seen as the ‘tie that binds’. However, when entered into by
the Gypsy it is invariably temporary and ethnicity, in a sense, could be
said to be ‘suspended’. This will be given some attention later in the
chapter. This fundamental rejection of wage-labour demands in its
place two things (Okely 1979): diversification in occupations and less
specific wide-ranging skills.
Diversity in occupations
You should have five or six occupations these days. That way, if one
don’t work out, you can change to another, and keep on changing
until you find something that will work. You’re bound to hit on a
way of making money sooner or later. (Canadian Roma, quoted in
Salo 1981: 77)
The quotation above illustrates the importance of diversity and flexibility

in occupations for Gypsies. However, this diversity goes unrecognized by
188 Colin Clark
the gaujo. Industrialization has exoticized the so-called ‘traditional’ Gypsy

occupations. In this way, ‘real’ Gypsy crafts/skills are exaggerated and
romanticized by both seller and buyer to meet each other’s expectations,
whilst those who break up old cars and cookers at the roadside are
dismissed as ‘bogus tinkers’ and not ‘genuine’ or ‘true-blooded’ Romanies.
It is simple for Gypsies to see that by having a spread of occupations
wealth will follow, whilst poverty results from over-specialization in only
one or two work areas. Occupations in terms of time and place should be
easily transferable. For Gypsies, fixed locations and restrictions are not
welcomed or desired. Indeed, Gypsies would find current academic
debates about work and insecurity amusing; the gaujos are only ‘insecure’
about their work situation because they are so unprepared and over-
specialized to deal with changes in the wider labour market and thus
accommodate the new ‘flexible’ labour markets that Gypsies have always
adapted to and relished (Vail, Wheelock and Hill 1999).
Multi-skilled abilities
A series of easily picked-up and dropped wide-ranging skills are neces-

sary to pursue a (viable) commercially nomadic way of life. Amongst
older adults, for example, illiteracy has been compensated for with
such alternative skills. Younger Gypsies are, in many ways, even more
fortunate as they will be in a position to incorporate both these
family-taught ‘alternative skills’ and some degree of gaujo education
(Clark 1997a; Okely 1997a).
These alternative skills include the following: knowing the local
economy and gaujo client base; manual dexterity, mechanical ingenuity
and embracing new technology and industry; possessing a highly devel-
oped and trained memory; clever salesmanship and bargaining skills;
showing opportunism in choice of occupation (knowing what jobs to
accept and reject and how high to price the job, etc.); and, most impor-
tantly, flexibility in role-playing (i.e. being able to wear different ‘hats’
and being fluid and constructive about one’s ‘ethnic image’ and identity).
Temporary wage-labour is sometimes seen as a necessary evil at parti-
cular times of the year. The (partial) acceptance of wage-labour by
some Gypsies and Travellers gives us an insight into the complicated
class structure and gendered relations of production between and
within different Gypsy groups (see Salo and Salo 1982; Piasere 1987).
The hierarchy within Gypsy communities along class lines can be quite
pronounced. For example, richer (male) Gypsies consider farm work as
‘feminine’ work and are loath to take it on (Okely 1983).
Wage-labour relationships amongst Gypsies are likewise avoided;

they work with but not for other Gypsies (Salo 1981). Work partner-
ships can be formed for big jobs occasionally and the income is then
equally divided (Mulcahy 1988). Gypsies will employ tramps or ‘dosser’
gaujos though and exploit them efficiently. As Sibley (1981: 56) puts it:
‘To the Traveller, the settled community appears passive and
exploitable.’ They are given arduous work, paid poorly by way of
return and are always kept at a distance from Gypsy society; this is the
basis for order and control over the host gaujo society.
It is evident that Gypsy work expresses and clarifies their isolation
and separateness from the gaujo: it is a social and political boundary
clarified via economics. However, given the gaujo persecution of them
as nomadic caravan dwellers the Gypsies feel entitled to earn a living
from gaujos in a way that suits them (Yoors 1967; Kornblum and
Lichter 1972). At one and the same time the Gypsy is both dependent
on the host settled community, yet manages to turn this fact into a
profitable advantage. This is quite some achievement.
We can see then that the ‘ethnic image’ presented to the gaujo is
variable and adjusted to the needs of the situation and context. It is a
fine example of what could also be termed ‘impression management’
(Silverman 1982). For example, Piasere (1987) conducted fieldwork
amongst the Xoraxané Roma in Italy and examined their adaptive
responses to changing socio-economic environments (moving from the
Kosovo I Metohija region of the former Yugoslavia to Verona). He
noted that these responses included fundamental changes in their own
economic organization which, in turn, led to ‘spectacular’ shifts in
their social organization and family/extended family structures.
However, no matter the specific group or location, in general terms it is a
common feature that in economic relationships, Gypsy/Gypsy work is
ruled by notions of equality and within an unwritten, but ‘known’,
framework of rules. No such framework exists for Gypsy/gaujo exchanges
(except for wariness on the part of the Gypsy). Though superiority over
the gaujo is one of the fundamental tenets of Gypsy life, this does not
always lend itself to be operationalized in every encounter.
Unpacking the ‘ethnic images’: (anti-)wage-labour,

self-employment and Gypsy economic niches
We now move on to examine the range of ‘ethnic images’ available to

commercially nomadic Gypsies and Travellers in different parts of
Europe.
190 Colin Clark
1 Reproducing ethnicity: exchanges at the horse fair

This relates to what could be thought of as ‘internal’ Gypsy identity
and (‘self’) ethnic image. That is, the image which is ‘real’ and is to be
kept within the family and community, shielded from gaujo society.
One example of this cultural reproduction rests on bartering between
kin and between groups distant to each other (but still classified as
internal economic exchange). The horse fair is a case in point; repre-
senting the interplay of economic and cultural factors in ethnic
exchanges. At the horse fair, the principle of exchange rests on the
ritual of ‘chopping’ or ‘clapping’ hands to secure the deal. Prestige is
involved as well as rituals: from my own recent fieldwork at Appleby in
Cumbria, it was evident that horse trading is to do with affirming or
reproducing identity as much as making a good ‘chop’. There is a
common code involved in the ‘chop’ and both parties know the rules
that govern their actions; though a small crowd is usually present to
witness the event as well. In some cases, where the ‘chop’ might run
into a few hundred or thousand pounds, a ‘middleman’ is usually
present to oversee the deal and to encourage each of the parties to
make a deal (Acton and Gallant 1997: 26). This person is usually given
a small cut of the final price to ‘buy a drink’. The chop is, without
exception, exclusively male.
Likewise in Hungary, the anthropologist Michael Stewart (1990;
1992) has observed that Gypsies acquire horses to sell them on for a
profit; not for breeding or working the land as the native Magyars do.
Gypsies in Hungary are traders between the users of the horses. They
are, in their own words, ‘forroske save’ (‘boys of the market’) (1992: 97).
Stewart’s fascinating in-depth account of a chain of events at a horse
fair in one Hungarian town demonstrates that neoclassical ways of
examining market behaviour are not appropriate to this event: the
market day is divided in two, the buying and selling to the customers
and then the swapping of horses between themselves. Gypsy/Gypsy
deals are regulated by ‘swaps’ (or the ‘chop’) and shouting matches.
Part-exchanges are the norm.
The similarity between Stewart’s analysis and Okely’s analysis is strik-
ing: both note the special position and status accorded to the horse in
Gypsy culture and state that individual and family prestige and position,
not just monetary wealth, are dispensed on the basis of the horses that
one buys and sells. When dealing with gaujo customers the horse is just a
commodity to be sold for profit, but for a Gypsy/Gypsy deal the horse
takes on a much more powerful and symbolic role. It is a metaphor for
success, honour, rank and (male) pride (Erdös 1959).
Of course, Gypsy women are not involved in this type of economic

activity. This may be because Gypsy social structure is more concerned
with female pollution taboos and codes of conduct rather than internal
economic exchange as a means of reproducing and enhancing ethnic
identity for females (Miller 1994). ‘She’ is self-employed and acquires
food for the family (Vukanovic 1961; Okely 1975b). In some contexts,
(paid) working is not demanded by Gypsy men (according to Gypsy
women). None the less, there is no word in Romani for ‘retirement’ and
it is an unknown concept within most Gypsy families; everyone is
‘productive’ from early childhood until either mental or physical inca-
pacity. There is always work to be done.
2 Enhancing ethnicity (the ‘Gypsification’ of identity)

‘Enhancing ethnicity’ involves the external ‘Gypsification’ of identity;
that is ensuring that one looks the part of the assumed ‘true Gypsy’. In
these economic situations, it is in the best interests of the Gypsy to
proclaim one’s ‘genuine’ identity in order to meet the expected gaujo
(in this instance romantic) stereotypes of what constitutes ‘Gypsy
work’. Such ‘traditional’ occupations have principally revolved around
entertainment and performance, accompanied with the selling of
‘Gypsy trinkets’ and suitably ‘rural’ handiwork. In Britain, it is the
‘lucky white heather and clothes pegs’ of the title of this chapter that
often spring to the gaujo mind.
The mistaken gaujo belief that Gypsies originate from Egypt has been
manipulated to the advantage of the Gypsy in many economic settings
and exchanges. For example, as fortune-tellers Gypsies have histori-
cally drawn upon gaujo notions of the ‘mystical East’ in order to play
the part expected of them. Contemporary ‘Gypsy’ fortune-tellers
merely need to dress for the part and act according to gaujo stereotypes.
Indeed, it is less the ‘supernatural’ abilities that the Gypsy fortune-
teller does or does not possess that are important, more the ability to
dress for and play the part well and make a series of observed and well-
educated guesses as to what is happening in the gaujo client’s life. This
reading of the gaujo’s life is a skill learnt from childhood. A number of
classifications and sub-classifications occur in order to correlate age,
occupation, class and gender with the client’s displayed tensions, anxi-
eties and preoccupations. In this way the ‘picture’ is built up in order
to convince the gaujo that the price to be paid to the fortune-teller is
but a small one in order to ‘know’ the future.
Many studies have examined the role of fortune-telling and its relative
economic importance and unimportance to Gypsy families (Gropper
192 Colin Clark
1967; 1975; Salo 1981; Williams 1982). These studies also reveal that
whereas Gypsy to gaujo readings are largely seen as ‘educated guesswork’,
the readings that occur between Gypsy and Gypsy are seen, by some, as
being significant and having power. Here, the role is given to older
women and notions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ luck are employed: ‘certain
people, places, objects and ideas’ can act as metaphors and symbols of
this ‘luck’ (Miller 1997: 6). By contrast, those objects hawked to the
unknowing gaujo have no such connotations, being merely ‘cheap
rubbish’. As with horse-dealing, a strict sexual division of labour is appar-
ent when considering fortune-telling:
Fortune telling is for her, and to feed the kids, in case you don’t
make anything. Cars are for you, in case she doesn’t make anything.
(Canadian Roma, quoted in Salo 1981: 78)
For men, the performance of fortune-telling is not only not lucrative

but women better inhabit the occupation as it confirms and meets the
‘Gypsy woman’ stereotypes of the gaujo. However, in some parts of
Europe the romanticized occupation of knife-grinding may be com-
bined with a form of fortune-telling (Lucassen 1998: 161). For men, the
role of musician can be much more rewarding and the ‘image’ of expert
violin or guitar player can be a source of a good income from gaujo
audiences (Silverman 1982). For example, from conducting extensive
fieldwork in the rural Eastern part of Slovakia, Hübschmannová asserts
that:
Playing music at the weddings (bijav) and baptism (bona) of gadze

[non-Gypsies], at village fairs and village entertainments, was an
exclusive monopoly of Roma lavutara [musicians] … ‘those Roma
who knew how to play would eat; those who did not know would
not eat’. (1984: 9–10)
Lucassen (1998: 167) goes as far as to suggest that ‘this [musical per-
formance] is probably the profession most associated with Gypsies’.
He may not be wrong.
3 Debasing ethnicity: roles to be played to meet gaujo expectations

Debasing ethnicity is principally about turning gaujo ‘exotic’ and roman-
tic stereotypes of Gypsies on their head. That is, those ‘ethnic images’
which remind the gaujo that he or she is superior to the ‘savage
nomad’ are actively played out; those of ‘scavenger, beggar, pauper,
fool’. A good example of the way in which Gypsies can ‘present’ one
such image to the gaujo whilst being sure of their own ethnic image is
the case of what is sometimes called ‘scavenging’ or, in another dis-
course, ‘recycling’. This is but one part of the more ‘visible’ aspect to
the economy of Gypsies and Travellers. This contribution to the
environment and economy has often been hidden behind anti-
Gypsy/Traveller stereotypes. With some justification many Gypsies
and Travellers claim that they were ‘the first Greens’ (Clark and
ÓhAodha 2000: 6–7). For example, older Travellers will talk about
collecting old beer bottles, washing them out and selling them back to
the pubs in the earlier part of the twentieth century. More recently,
recycling of metal and tinsmithing has been dominated by Travellers;
for example, they have ‘been the vanguard of recycling in Ireland’
(DTEDG 1993: 1).
Another pertinent example of ‘playing’ the debased ethnicity role in
order to generate an income comes through what Piasere has termed
‘asking’ and ‘gathering’ (begging). In the Italian context Piasere
observes that:
The Xoraxané have established ambivalent relations with the seden-

tarist. On the one hand, as foreigners without residence permits and
legal occupations they are constantly harassed by police, who try to
send them back over the border; on the other, the survival of a type
of Catholic conformity, in which the giving of alms is seen as a deed
of Christian charity, enables them to occupy the ‘begging niche’…
(1987: 114)
In other parts of Europe, as well, the shabbily dressed ‘Gypsy woman’

who presents herself, with children, as a destitute wife and abandoned
mother makes a good beggar (and also meets the gaujo stereotype of
Gypsy men as abusive and irresponsible rogues). A Gypsy man making
similar demands on the passing gaujo may well find himself up in court
faced with an assault charge.5 It is important to make clear here that
for many Gypsy groups begging in itself is not ‘debased’, but the image
required to make the operation credible and economically successful
has to be.
In a similar way, the ‘image’ of the ‘illiterate Gypsy’ serves a purpose.
It not only allows the Gypsy to plead ignorance when confronted by
bureaucratic paperwork (such as eviction or court notices), but also
serves to remind the gaujo official that his or her way of life is the civil-
ized and proper way (when the Gypsies, having pleaded ignorance,
194 Colin Clark
then insist that they will ‘settle down’ and ensure their children learn
to read and write ‘proper’). Here the debased image has to be short-
lived and the returns carefully calculated, for gaujo scorn can only be
taken for so long before the ‘inner’ Gypsy mode of expression
(respectability) is once again reverted to.
4 Suspending ethnicity: seasonal wage-labour

In general, any employment that requires close contact with non-
Gypsies or puts a person under the direction and authority of a non-
Gypsy is avoided. This kind of employment is considered marime
(polluted) because it requires some kind of commitment to
American society and contradicts important values of Rom society.
(Sutherland 1975a: 72)
Suspending ethnicity is temporarily entered into by Gypsies in order to

soften the paradox of gaujo-controlled wage-labour. At certain times
during the year, and in certain circumstances for some groups of
Gypsies, wage-labour has to be undertaken as there is no other avail-
able option. This is done with great reluctance and is presented as a
temporary ‘stop-gap’ until the norm of self-employment is resumed.
The self’s ‘ethnic image’ is ‘frozen’ to avoid the dilemma, restrictions
and inherent contradictions of working for a gaujo employer. The sub-
mission to the decisions and commands of the gaujo are swallowed like
a bitter pill. Usually there is some form of written, or at least verbal,
contract between the parties involved; this giving credence to Gypsy
claims as to the temporary nature of the unbalanced relationship. This
is, in essence, the livelihood of last resort for Gypsies. This suspension
occurs in order that the Gypsy’s internal ethnic identity is not compro-
mised by the intrusion of the gaujo. It is closely related to the following
‘ethnic image’, that of hiding ethnicity (or ‘passing’).
5 Hiding ethnicity: ‘passing’ as a means to an end

Although their settlement pattern and their economic activities
place these [Kalderash in Paris] Gypsies in permanent contact with
non-Gypsies, the Rom have developed a strategy which allows their
ethnicity not to be perceived during contact. This strategy of ‘invisi-
bility’ favors affirmation of their ethnic distinctiveness. (Williams
1982: 315)
Hiding ethnicity involves, as Williams notes, becoming ‘invisible’ to the

gaujo and passing as ‘one of them’. For some Gypsy and Traveller
groups, especially those not conforming to the ‘black hair, brown eyes’
image of the ‘real Romany’, ‘passing’ can be quite easily achieved when
compared to other ethnic groups. In some circumstances, for example,
when sedentarization occurs or when the ethnic group is abandoned,
this can become a permanent state of being. However, for many
Gypsies who are commercial nomads, this ‘passing’ is an economic
strategy that can be ‘worn’ or ‘removed’ on an almost day-to-day basis.
Here there is yet another gender distinction. For women, as we have
seen earlier, it literally ‘pays’ to ‘Gypsify’ one’s identity for the sake of
the fortune-telling client, whilst for men it is prudent to ‘de-Gypsify’
one’s identity, wearing ‘proper’ clothes which help fulfil their role as
respectable small businessmen or traders. So, whilst Gypsies are com-
pletely ‘unknown’ to gaujos, all the psychological nuances of the gaujo
are known and manipulated by the Gypsy for economic gain. Indeed,
on the basis of prolonged contact with gaujo society, Gypsies are only
too aware and ready to formulate their considered responses to the
gaujo who is involved in any exchange with them. What is essential
here, for the Gypsy, is the oral communication and impression to the
gaujo customer of trustworthiness and genuineness. This achieved, the
gaujo need for written references or estimates for the job in hand may
be of only secondary importance. Here again, the widespread use of
mobile telephones removes the need for a fixed ‘office’ and place of
business.
6 Ethnicity as a ‘non-variable’: the irrelevance of ethnicity for

economic exchange
Ethnicity as a non-variable means just that: in some exchanges with the
gaujo ethnicity is not an issue to be considered and, on the face of it, is
not relevant to the business at hand. This is usually the case when the
ethnic identity of the Gypsy is ‘known’ to the gaujo trader or customer
and therefore ‘exotic’ enhancements to that identity are not required
for transactions. Such regular patrons may include gaujos who are
horse dealers, owners of scrapyards, builders who subcontract work
out, the tarmac manufacturer and the farmer who employs the same
extended families every summer. In order to get ‘special deals’, such as
extended credit terms or extra weight in tarmac, the Gypsy will aim to
individualize the economic relationship (whilst always staying in
control). Although bargaining skills are crucial here, both Gypsies and
gaujos will be aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses; they are
alert to what is ‘a good deal’ for each other and will avoid any transpar-
ent exploitation so as not to risk the mutually beneficial relationship.
196 Colin Clark
This situation is as close, I would argue, as the Gypsy/gaujo relation-

ship comes to being symbiotic. However, the critical ‘ethnic boundary’
between Gypsy and gaujo is not breached in any way; boundaries are
still guarded and these types of economic relationships are very much
the exception. In this context, what the gaujo primarily perceives as
‘friendship’ the Gypsy perceives as good common business sense.
Conclusion
The essential feature of the Gypsy economy is not a particular set of

occupations, these have changed over time, but a particular kind of
economic relationship with the host society. (Gmelch 1982: 351)
This chapter has combined the empirical with the theoretical.

Empirically, by drawing on a variety of European sources, it has shown,
on one hand, that Gypsies and Travellers have always adapted their
occupations to the needs of their settled customers around them. Scrap
metal and seasonal agriculture work, which were more ‘visible’ in the
1960s and 1970s, have now been complemented by contract tarmac
work, landscape gardening and tree-lopping, fence and gate repairs,
antique dealing, music, painting and so on. Traditional hawking,
whilst not completely vanished, has been complemented by other
trades such as carpet-dealing and selling goods at markets, car boot
sales and other local sales. Some seasonal occupations, for example
whelk-gathering on the east and west coasts of Scotland or daffodil
picking in the south-east of England, still continue. Gypsies and
Travellers have responded to industrial and technological innovations;
better vehicles and cheap mobile telephones now allow them to
commute further afield on a daily or few-day basis. The symbolism of
the horse fair and importance of recycling have also been discussed in
this chapter.
Theoretically, I have attempted to outline how gaujos and Gypsies
themselves view ‘Gypsy work’, how and when these views converge or
diverge and how work is crucially linked to wider questions of ethnic-
ity and ethnic identity. I have argued that ethnicity is not to be con-
fused with ethnic identity. In this context the latter rests on group
self-ascription whilst the former is more to do with a sense of ‘differ-
ence’ and the ‘ethnic images’ presented to the gaujo, which can take on
a number of manipulated forms. The ways in which Gypsy ethnicity
(and ‘images’) are manoeuvred in and out of gaujo sight help ensure
Gypsy adaptability and success in commercial capitalist economies.
Gypsies are, of course, alert to gaujo expectations of Gypsy ethnicity

and normality; these must be supplied and fulfilled whilst maintaining
their own views on their ethnicity and way of doing things. This calls
for great skill and self-awareness. Many Gypsy occupations have been
neglected by the gaujo because they choose to define Gypsies in exotic
or demonized terms; truly they are either ‘saints’ (enhanced ethnicity) or
‘sinners’ (debased ethnicity). However, it is clear that these are but two
of many options available to Gypsies in how they construct themselves
and arrange and organize their working practices and identities in any
given host society.
Development and education policies promoted by multicultural
states have created new opportunities for Gypsy economic activity;
such as the Gypsy children in Sutherland’s American study who cre-
atively failed IQ tests to receive state grants for their families
(Sutherland 1975 a and b). Gypsies have prospered both under pater-
nalist efforts to absorb them and on the host societies’ need for the
exotic. It is no surprise that where different Gypsy ‘ethnic images’ are
presented, the gaujo is unaware and confused in his/her views on what
constitutes a ‘true Gypsy’ way of life. Crucially, it is this fundamental
gaujo misunderstanding that lends itself so well to Gypsy profit and
survival in a contemporary European political economy of nomadism.
Notes
1. I would like to thank the editors of this volume, Steve Fenton and Harriet
Bradley, for including a chapter that considers the economy and culture of
Gypsies and Travellers. So often they are forgotten and rendered invisible
when talking about ‘race’ and ethnicity (see note 3). I also thank them for
their useful guidance, sharp editing skills and general help in preparing this
chapter for publication. Thanks also – as ever – to Judith, Margaret and
Mum.
2. Note on terminology: readers will no doubt be aware that the terms ‘Gypsy’,
‘Traveller’ and ‘Roma/Rom’ are not ‘neutral’ terms. They are very problem-
atic to define but, for the purposes of this chapter, I will outline below the
commonly cited definitions that were employed by the Minority Rights
Group in their influential Report entitled Roma / Gypsies: A European Minority
(Liégeois and Gheorghe 1995).
Gypsy: Term used to denote ethnic groups formed by the dispersal of

commercial, nomadic and other groups from within India from the tenth
century, and their mixing with European and other groups during their
diaspora.
Traveller: A member of any of the (predominantly) indigenous European
ethnic groups (Woonwagenbewoners, Minceiri, Jenisch, Quinquis, Resende,
198 Colin Clark
etc.) whose culture is characterized, inter alia, by self-employment, occu-

pational fluidity and nomadism. These groups have been influenced, to a
greater or lesser degree, by ethnic groups of (predominantly) Indian
origin with a similar cultural base.
Roma/Rom: A broad term used in various ways, to signify: (a) Those ethnic
groups (e.g., Kalderash, Lovari, etc.) who speak the ‘Vlach’, ‘Xoraxane’ or
‘Rom’ varieties of the Romani language. (b) Any person identified by
others as ‘Tsigane’ in Central and Eastern Europe and Turkey, plus those
outside the region of East European extraction. (c) Romani people in
general.
However, it should be noted that these definitions are contentious and some
critical attention must be given to them.
In Britain, there are four main groups of Gypsies and Travellers. In their
own languages they are the Romanichals (English Gypsies), the Kalé (Welsh
Gypsies), the Nawkens (Scottish Travellers) and the Minceir (Irish Travellers).
Added to these main groups there are various groups of Romanies who have
come to Britain from different parts of Central and Eastern Europe and a
group of nomads rather specific to the United Kingdom who have been
called New (Age) Travellers. All together they number about 120,000
(Kenrick and Clark 1999: 21).
3. The issue of ‘visibility’ and ‘invisibility’ is an interesting one to consider. The
idea applies not only to their economy (known and unknown occupations)
but also, for example, to their presence in the academic ethnic and racial
studies literature. Let me briefly demonstrate this. The Policy Studies
Institute study on Ethnic Minorities in Britain (Modood et al. 1997), for
example, is the most comprehensive and detailed examination of the con-
temporary ethnic minority experience of Britain. However, like its three pre-
decessors, it fails even to mention in the index or footnotes the 120,000
Gypsy and Traveller population of Britain. Such invisibility in an intellectual
‘space’ that should be theirs contrasts with their ‘visibility’ when it comes to
accusations of ‘aggressive begging’ on the streets and underground network
of London or when a roadside encampment is established on the outskirts of
a Home Counties village (see Morris 2000). The other irony here, of course,
is that in the economic field if their occupations were more generally known
and ‘visible’ to the settled community, Gypsies would not be able to exploit
them so effectively.
4. Private correspondence and conversations between the author and Michelle
Lloyd of Save the Children Fund, Scotland (17 March 2000).
5. Similarly, many New Travellers I spent time with during fieldwork in the
early 1990s suggested to me that going ‘tapping’ (begging) with a dog was a
useful mechanism for helping passing shoppers to part with their loose
change (Clark 1997b). ‘The English love their animals,’ as one New Traveller
in the West Country wryly put it to me.
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Index
African American, 18, 22, 29 class analysis, 1, 2, 6, 9, 38, 39, 114

America/USA, 5, 18, 21, 22, 24, 25, class consciousness, 1, 12
27, 28, 35, 37, 84, 98, 99, 101, class, the death of, 63
102, 108, 114, 122, 123, 133, 135, class relations, 9, 12, 26, 38, 42, 48,
138, 141, 182 66, 98, 142, 178
American dream, 101, 104, 105, 112, class structure, 2, 21, 23, 24, 29, 63,
113 122, 159, 188
Asian-American, 98–102, 104–9, classification, 36, 38, 76, 77, 139, 166,
111–13, 115, 116 169, 173, 191
asylum seekers, 90, 91 colonial/ism, 20, 23–5, 32–6, 41, 45,
46, 48, 51, 56, 59, 61, 62, 98,
Bangladesh/i, 4, 25, 38, 87, 89, 90, 97, 161
148 commonwealth, 45, 46, 47, 59
Benelux, 162 community/ies, 4, 11, 18, 19, 22,
Britain/ish, 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 15, 24–8, 31, 24–6, 28, 51, 54, 72, 75, 80, 82,
34, 37–40, 42–9, 52, 55–7, 59, 60, 83, 88, 94–7, 122–5, 128, 130,
62, 66, 72, 82, 83, 87–90, 92, 131, 133–41, 143–6, 148, 149,
94–8, 122, 123, 124, 130, 134, 151, 155, 156, 158, 159, 162, 166,
135, 138, 139, 141, 143, 144, 148, 167, 180, 188–90, 198
151, 175, 183–5, 187, 191, 198 culture, 1, 2, 5, 9–13, 15–20, 23, 30,
35, 39, 50, 51, 70, 75, 77, 81, 83,
Canada, 20, 122, 135, 138 95, 97–101, 106, 108–11, 114,
capital, 12, 15, 16, 22, 24–6, 44–9, 53, 115, 117, 122, 132, 141, 142, 159,
56–62, 71, 72, 74, 77, 81, 87, 91, 161, 163, 164, 173, 176, 180, 184,
105, 110, 113, 121, 168, 175, 177, 190, 197, 198
178 culture communities, 11, 18, 19
capitalism/ist, 3, 12, 16, 17, 32, 42, Cypriot, 75, 144, 145, 147–9, 151,
46, 48–51, 72, 81, 84, 115, 177, 155–7, 159
281, 183, 196
Caribbean/s, 20, 24, 26, 33, 35, 38, diaspora, 75, 124, 139, 141, 184, 197
41, 56, 59, 75 Durkheim, Emile, 17, 30, 34, 67
caste, 21, 39, 76, 122, 135, 136, 138,
139, 184 emigration, 161, 162
Central/Latin America, 25, 41 employee, 27, 93, 129, 146–9, 153,
China/ese, 4, 20, 21, 28, 38, 101, 105, 155, 168, 174, 182
107, 109, 116–18 employer, 27, 46, 80, 85, 90, 100,
Christian, 21, 52, 83, 109, 110, 137, 193 110, 146, 149, 151–3, 155, 156,
class, 1–6, 9–12, 14, 15, 19–34, 38, 44, 160–3, 165–70, 172–7, 180–2, 194
46–50, 52–4, 56, 57, 61–70, 73–9, employment, 15, 23–9, 59, 63, 66, 68,
82, 98, 99, 104–6, 111, 112, 74, 80, 84–7, 89–93, 97, 100, 117,
114–17, 122, 127–30, 142, 145, 127, 131, 144–9, 151–3, 155, 156,
153, 159, 160, 178–81, 184, 188, 158–66, 168, 174, 175, 177, 181,
191 182, 184, 185, 189, 194, 198
219
220 Index
ethnic identity, 6, 18–20, 87, 88, 184, India/n, 20–2, 24, 25, 33, 34, 38, 45,
185, 191, 194–6 56, 90, 98, 107, 109, 116, 122,
ethnicity, 1–7, 10, 11, 13, 15, 18–31, 124, 126, 128, 129, 134, 135, 137,
33, 34, 37–42, 54, 64–6, 68–70, 139, 140, 197, 198
72–9, 82, 97–9, 114, 142, 159, individualism, 14, 16–19, 22, 30, 34,
166, 184, 185, 187, 190–7 99
European Union, 3, 80, 81, 84, 85, inequality/ies, 13, 50, 64–7, 70, 73,
115 95, 100, 111, 133
informal economy, 24, 90, 91, 181
Fanon, Franz, 36 Ireland/Irish, 162, 180, 193, 198
Foucault, Michel, 10, 42, 49, 60–2 Islam/ic, 18, 81–3, 92, 94–7, 118, 168
Fourth National Survey of Ethnic Italy/ian, 5, 25, 88–92, 131, 160–6,
Minorities, 25, 148 168–70, 172, 173, 175–82, 189,
France/French, 25, 39, 40, 49, 82, 83, 193
88, 92, 93, 115, 161, 162
Japan/ese, 21, 101, 107, 109–11, 116,
Gastarbeiter, 25, 86 182
gender, 1–5, 11, 13, 15, 23, 25, 27, 48, Jew/s/ish, 19, 20, 24, 36, 62, 75, 105,
53–5, 64–6, 68–70, 72–9, 92, 94, 112, 117, 118, 180
95, 127, 159, 188, 191, 195
German/y, 22, 25, 39, 83, 86, 88–91, Korean/s, 101, 102, 107, 109–11, 116,
94, 95, 97, 121, 144, 161, 162, 117
177 Kurd/s/ish, 24, 26, 137, 144, 145,
global capital/ism, 16, 84, 121 147–9, 151–9
globalization, 5, 14–6, 22, 27, 29, 55,
81, 84, 87, 96, 115 labour, 3, 4, 12, 16, 19–27, 29, 30, 32,
Guevara, Che, 36 38, 45–7, 49, 55–63, 65–8, 72, 74,
Gujarati, 122, 135, 137–9, 141 76, 77, 80, 85–8, 90–6, 121, 123,
Gypsies, 5, 6, 128, 183–98 129–31, 133, 136, 141, 142, 146,
148, 149, 151, 153, 155–8, 160–9,
Hall, Stuart, 33, 41, 48, 54, 55, 77, 172–9, 181, 183–5, 187–9, 182,
97 194
Hindu, 122, 135–8 labour market, 26, 27, 38, 58, 65–8,
Hispanic, 29, 106, 107, 116 72, 76, 77, 80, 88, 90–6, 123,
129–31, 136, 142, 146, 148, 149,
identity, 1–3, 5, 6, 10, 11, 13, 18–20, 155–8, 160, 162–4, 166, 173, 175,
30, 43, 51–5, 57, 64, 67, 73, 75, 178, 181, 183, 188
77–84, 87, 88, 94–7, 99, 112, 115, Latino, 18, 105
124, 125, 133–8, 140–2, 159, 164, law, 91, 186
184, 185, 188, 190, 191, 194–7 legal, 12, 40, 59, 60, 85, 86, 90, 166,
illegal, 24, 85, 90, 91, 146, 165, 166, 174, 175, 177, 180, 181, 186, 193
169, 174, 175, 180, 181 London, 5, 45, 46, 59, 62, 63, 87, 90,
immigration/grants, 3, 10, 21, 23, 25, 91, 143, 144, 146, 159, 180, 198
35, 36, 38–40, 43–7, 49, 51, 52,
55–63, 80, 82, 85–92, 95, 96, 101, Marx, Karl, 9, 12, 30, 34, 42, 43, 60,
103, 105, 106, 109, 110, 112, 115, 63, 71, 72, 74, 98
117, 118, 121, 125, 127, 128, Marxism/t, 1–3, 9, 11–16, 32, 33, 36,
130–2, 135, 137, 158, 161, 162, 39, 41–5, 48, 52, 55, 58, 61, 63,
166–70, 174, 175, 177–82 65, 66, 69, 70, 98, 180
Index 221
Middle East/ern, 22, 24, 82, 83, 121 race relations, 9, 37, 42, 97
minority/ies, 1, 5, 10, 19–21, 23, racism, 1–4, 10, 11, 26, 27, 29, 37, 38,
25–30, 33, 35, 40, 42, 65, 67, 68, 42–4, 46–50, 53, 54, 57–61, 65,
76, 78, 81, 86, 89, 90, 92, 95, 69, 92, 93, 96, 98, 99, 115, 122,
98–102, 104–6, 108, 109, 111–14, 140, 141, 160, 163, 164, 167, 173,
116–18, 121, 127, 131, 142, 143, 175, 178, 181, 182
147, 148, 168, 178, 197, 198 refugee/s, 24, 45, 122, 123, 128, 130,
mobility, 124, 130, 140, 185 131, 133, 137
model minorities, 112, 116 Rex, John, 5, 9, 11, 30–2, 36–8, 40, 42
modernize/d/ing, 20, 94, 138, 139 Roma, 20, 24, 128, 189, 192, 197, 198
modernist/m, 9–14, 29, 30, 43, 48
modernity, 12, 17, 49–52, 56, 61, 62, self-employed/ment, 87, 91–3, 100,
81, 82, 84, 87, 96, 97, 184 108, 110, 116, 117, 146–8, 153,
Muslim, 5, 21, 39, 80–4, 88–97, 122, 158, 168, 175, 184, 185, 189, 191,
125, 135–8, 140 194, 198
Muslim voices, 80, 81, 83, 84, 88, 96, sexism, 3, 4, 65
97 sexuality, 11, 13, 42, 48, 49, 53, 57,
58, 61, 63
nation (nation-state), 1, 23, 40, 50, Sivanadan, A., 5, 43–9, 53–5, 58, 60
51, 54, 56, 83, 95, 113, 115, 133, social capital, 24, 25, 81
183 social differentiation, 9, 11, 15, 17,
national, 4, 10, 16, 22, 27, 38, 39, 45, 29, 30
46, 53, 55, 59–62, 74, 80, 82, 86, social mobility, 1, 5, 14, 24–9, 98,
107, 111, 112, 115, 117, 127, 145, 100, 101, 104, 106, 108, 110–14,
166, 167 116, 117, 125–30, 141, 142, 148
nationalism, 3, 47, 53, 54, 72, 83, 89, social stratification, 64, 65, 70, 71, 77,
90, 92, 115 79
native American, 99 South Africa/n, 5, 24, 30–3, 41, 59,
neo-Marxist, 9, 15, 65, 98 168
neo-Weberian, 9, 65 state, 5, 13, 16, 24, 27, 44–9, 51, 53,
55, 57–63, 72, 76, 82, 83, 87, 88,
Pakistan/i, 25, 38, 56, 82, 89, 90, 133, 168, 177, 183, 197
94–7, 122, 124, 126, 128, 137, Sweden/ish, 24, 40, 121, 122, 124–41
139, 140, 148 Swiss/Switzerland, 88–91, 93, 162,
phenotype, 35, 36 177, 182
plural society thesis, 28, 31, 33–6, 41
political Islam, 81–4, 97 Travellers, 183–9, 193, 194, 196–8
postcolonial, 10, 21, 24, 36, 41, 82, Tunisia/n, 5, 160–2, 164–82
122 Turkey/ish, 5, 25, 26, 39, 90, 91, 94,
postmodern frame, 43, 44, 48–55, 57, 95, 97, 131, 142–9, 151–9, 162,
61, 63 198
postmodernity/ist/ism, 9, 10, 11, 13, Turkish Cypriots, 144, 145
15, 29, 42, 48, 50, 63
poverty, 63, 67, 88, 100, 102, 106, Ugandan Asians, 121, 122–4, 130,
109–11, 117, 159, 188 131, 135, 141
underclass, 5, 15, 24, 29, 38, 67, 159
race, 2, 5, 6, 9, 10, 21, 27, 31–3, unemployment, 27, 29, 59, 63, 85–7,
36–44, 46–9, 52–5, 58, 60, 62–4, 90–2, 100, 127, 131, 146, 147,
66, 76–8, 97–9, 115, 167 165, 182
222 Index
Weber, Max, 9, 11, 12, 15–7, 30, 33, workers, 5, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 32, 33,
34, 42–4, 48, 50, 65–8, 70 39, 44–6, 55, 56, 58, 59, 72, 80,
welfare state, 39, 40, 57, 63, 121, 131, 85, 88–91, 96, 97, 99, 108, 117,
133, 136 129, 143, 144, 160–82, 186
West India/n/ies, 34, 45, 56, 98, 117 Worsley, Peter, 83, 84

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Ethnicity and Economy

‘Race and Class’ Revisited

1. Race relations–Economic aspects. 2. Ethnicity–Economic aspects.

Notes on the Contributors ix

Part I Theoretical Interventions 7

1 Ethnicity, Economy and Class: Towards the Middle Ground 9

2 Race, Ethnicity and Class in Different Political and 31

3 Racism, Sexuality and Political Economy: 42

4 Gender, Ethnicity and Social Stratiﬁcation: Rethinking 64

5 Muslim Voices: Class, Economic Restructuring and the 80

6 Ethnicity and Class as Competing Interpretations: 98

Part II Empirical Explorations 119

7 The Ugandan Asians in Sweden – Twenty-ﬁve Years after 121

8 Social Exclusion and Young Turkish-speaking People’s 142

9 Migrant Workers in the Construction Industry: 160

10 ‘Not Just Lucky White Heather and Clothes Pegs’: 183

Floya Anthias is Professor of Sociology and Head of Sociology at the

Harriet Bradley is Professor of Sociology at the University of Bristol,

Colin Clark is Lecturer in Sociology and Social Policy at the University of

Faycel Daly is employed at the Institut Supérieur des Études

Pinar Enneli gained a PhD in Sociology from Bristol University in 2001.

to the Turkish-speaking communities in Europe; and second-generation

Steve Fenton is Professor in Sociology at the University of Bristol. He

Pandeli M. Glavanis is Professor and Deputy Dean in the Faculty of

Ali Rattansi is Professor of Sociology at City University, London.

John Rex is Professor Emeritus at Warwick University. He is the author

Charles Westin is Professor of Migration and Ethnicity Studies at

Deborah Woo is a Professor in the Community Studies Department at

Rethinking ethnicity and class: the middle ground

differences of theoretical stance, often seen as fundamentally divergent

These intersections rarely constitute a perfect match – although the ‘New

Theory and research: the structure of the book

Gypsies and exploit aspects of their ethnic identity for economic

Steve Fenton and Harriet Bradley

in the profession and it would be quite possible in 2002 to take an

Ethnicity, economy and culture: social structure and social

We start by considering formulations of economy and culture before

paradigm, ideas and ‘culture’ were viewed as products, as superstructural

indefensible assumptions about social determinacy, both substantively

enterprise. The ﬁrst step is to acknowledge that the kind of historical

Modernism’s legacy: social class, globalization and

Despite the continued speculation about its demise, social class is

resolutely elsewhere or imagine that, somehow, class societies had

transnational movement of people, ideas, capital and images. ‘Local’

the same time the puritan elements of Protestantism enjoined the

Culture and ethnicity: a complex relationship

This, then, is an exempliﬁcation of some of the ways in which sociology

Ethnic identities are commonly asserted by reference to claims about

Intersections of ethnicity and economy: class, globalization

occupational specialization, characteristic of both Jews and Romanies,

networks become a way of carrying out business. Indeed, the common

Ethnicity and class structure; the speciﬁcity of contexts

The above discussion has pointed to three major conﬁgurations of

used for agricultural work, especially in plantation systems. The heavy

The position migrants occupied in their countries of origin is also a

holding communities together in the face of exclusion and margin-

success’ story. Moreover incoming ethnic groups with a history of

Structures and agents of ethnicity and class

We have thus far sought to emphasize the variations in the patterning

A second pattern is that of ethnic marginalization: some ethnic groups

individualism – shape the positioning of ethnic groups, minority and

One of the primary ways in which the relationship between the

Race and class in South Africa