Professional Documents
Culture Documents
A B S TR AC T
The sociology of class and the sociology of work have, historically, occupied two
sides of the same coin, sharing foundational studies such as the Affluent Worker
series and Braverman’s vivisection of the labour process. Recently, however, the
partnership has been questioned. Though the seeds of the split were sown by Erik
Wright and John Goldthorpe, the overdue de-hegemonizing of Marx and Weber
in research on class with the growing influence of Pierre Bourdieu and the broader
‘cultural turn’ in sociology has weakened the bond and forged a new alliance
between class and the sociology of culture. This is, by all means, a positive devel-
opment, but the connection between processes in the sphere of work and class
has become less clear. This article therefore seeks to explore the new theoretical
nexus between class and work, demonstrating that a Bourdieusian approach fruit-
fully reverses the connection put in place by Goldthorpe and Wright.
K EY WO R D S
Bourdieu / class analysis / culture / occupation / work–class nexus
nce upon a time, it was taken for granted that the sociology of work shared
O such a bond of union with the sociology of class that they practically dis-
solved into one another. Those setting out to investigate the changing struc-
ture and experience of employment in the early post-war period, when British
sociology was emerging and maturing, could not help but address the question
of social class – what constituted it and how it operated – whilst those with an
interest in the concept of class in relation to, say, social mobility, were drawn
into an examination of the occupational structure and how it was changing.
Foundational texts in one sphere inevitably, therefore, became foundational texts
896
Downloaded from soc.sagepub.com at KoBSON on June 26, 2016
Rethinking the work–class nexus Atkinson 897
in the other. The Affluent Worker trilogy, for example, explored the lives of those
highly paid Luton workers with the express intention of revealing the validity of
the embourgeoisement thesis and, consequently, the salience of class as a shaper
of values and attitudes, but in so doing exposed a gamut of changing orien-
tations toward work – instrumentalism being chief among them (Goldthorpe
et al., 1968a, 1968b, 1969). Likewise, though in a more radical vein,
Braverman’s (1974) renowned investigation of the labour process, that is, the
steady proletarianization of clerical work, was at one and the same time a
description of the changing conditions of employment that continues to enjoy
influence in the sociology of work to this day and an early contribution toward
the debate over the boundaries between classes that rumbled on between Marxists
and others well into the 1980s and 1990s. The reason behind this seemingly
unbreakable nexus of social class and work was fairly patent: from a Weberian
point of view, occupations serve as useful approximations of class situations, whilst
for Marxists they denote the fundamental positions in the production process.
In recent years, however, the sociological winds have changed direction and
blown in fresh thinking on the dynamics of class in contemporary societies. With
the so-called ‘cultural turn’ in sociology, along with mounting dissatisfaction
with the dominant approaches to class and of course the increased specialization
of sociology in which the sociology of work and class have split into distinct
areas of expertise with fewer scholars straddling the division, it seems as if work
is slowly being replaced as the natural bedfellow of class with culture. Feminist
writers such as Beverley Skeggs (1997), Diane Reay (1998) and Stephanie Lawler
(2000), for example, along with Simon Charlesworth’s (2000) poetic examina-
tion of the underemployed in de-industrializing Rotherham, have all made sig-
nificant contributions to the rethinking of class and the multiplex ways in which
it plays out in everyday life, whether amongst peers or within the family, with-
out elaborate reference to processes or features within the world of paid work at
all. Cultural differences, media representations and socialization patterns, and
ultimately the conceptual toolkit of Pierre Bourdieu, are the bread and butter of
these researchers of class, not workplace authority, control or industrial conflict.
There are, of course, exceptions, with Savage’s (2000) work on changing occu-
pational cultures being an example. But even here, as the interest in Bourdieu
grew, the focus on work was steadily supplanted by an interest in cultural dif-
ferentiation which refers to occupations, in a similar way to many of the ‘cul-
tural class analysts’ (Savage, 2003), only as rough and ready, but not always
satisfactory, indicators of class position (e.g. Bennett et al., 2009). Furthermore,
though Hebson (2009) has recently noted this trend, decried it and tried to plug
the gap through empirical example, all of this is done without firm theoretical
groundwork and, therefore, raises more questions than it answers.
So what, exactly, are we to make of all this? If we accept the analytical
superiority of these innovations in class analysis and wish to build on French
foundations, does this mean that employment is of less relevance now for under-
standing the operations of class, and vice versa? If not, then what exactly is the
relationship between work and class now that the latter term has been restyled
First to the seeds of contemporary class theory over a century ago. For Marx,
of course, class position was dictated by position within the relations of pro-
duction and, in capitalism, where ‘free wage labour’ had replaced the manorial
ties of feudal Europe, this essentially takes the form of employer versus
employee, or to use the technical terms, bourgeoisie versus proletariat. The
labourers must sell their skills, their labour power, to survive, and in so doing
enter into relations with the owners of the means of production who compen-
sated the workers monetarily at a lower rate than the value they produced.
Thus was born the labour market and the occupational structure of society, and
if someone was within them in some sense, rather than outside as owners and
employers, then they could consider themselves proletarian. Indeed, it was pre-
cisely through work, its degradation and ultimately exploitative character, that
workers would consider themselves to be in the same boat, rally together as a
‘class-for-itself’ and overthrow capitalism.
For Weber, on the other hand, it was the emergence of markets that really
mattered in distinguishing classes, whether goods markets for those owning
property in the form of factories or, more importantly, the labour market.
Amongst the non-propertied, class situations were determined by market situa-
tion, which essentially meant the skills and credentials brought to the labour
market to secure income. The more highly valued skills one had, the more one
was rewarded economically, and the further distinguished one’s market situa-
tion, class situation and therefore life chances were. Again, then, it was differ-
ences in paid employment that differentiated the life chances of the majority of
the population – a qualified doctor would have better life chances than an
employed plumber, for example. Social classes, in the sense of distinct, perceptible
social groups with shared ways of life, communities and attitudes, then arose
from these economic foundations through the restriction of social mobility – a
process Giddens (1981) later theorized under the label ‘structuration’.
Upon these foundations contemporary class analysis was steadily built.
From the early community studies (e.g. Dennis et al., 1969) through to the
Affluent Worker series, Braverman’s (1974) labour process theory and the ubiq-
uitous ethnographic studies of workplaces (e.g. Beynon, 1984[1973]), it was
assumed that the characteristics of employment, whether revealed through
examination of long-term trends or qualitative description of working life,
defined the key class relations. From a Marxist perspective this was because,
despite the nascent shift to a post-industrial climate, it was still through paid
employment and the degradation of working conditions that the proletariat
were exploited and furnished with common interests. From a broadly Weberian
standpoint, things were slightly more complex: yes, as neatly summed up by
Frank Parkin (1971: 18), the ‘occupational order’ is considered ‘[t]he backbone
of the class structure’ quite simply because it is the primary system through
which economic reward and, for those US sociologists who tended to conflate
class with status (e.g. Blau and Duncan, 1967), prestige is apportioned in west-
ern societies (cf. Mills, 2002[1951]: 71). But for those setting out to explore the
uncharted worlds of certain occupational groups, it seemed obvious that ‘work
situation’, encompassing ‘the set of social relationships in which the individual
is involved at work’ including authority and control, had to be included in the
definition of and research on class as well (Lockwood, 1958: 15).
Out of this era of close interconnection, however, there developed a new,
dominant approach to class bisected according to the founding father followed,
and, with it, a new relationship between class and employment. This was the
attempt to construct, for the first time, a rigorous ‘map’ of the class structure
that could be put to use in statistical research, with Erik Olin Wright (1979)
championing the fusion of Marxism with thereto-derided ‘bourgeois’ scientific
principles and methods and John Goldthorpe (1980) leading the broadly
Weber-inspired Nuffield programme of mobility research. In both cases, the
maps of the class structure were, essentially, comprised of occupational cate-
gories distinguished according to particular theoretical criteria and, in both
cases, there were two consequences for the link between work and class. On the
one hand, the content of work was no longer considered as important as the
objective relationships between occupations in an overall structure. For Wright
(1980: 178), there was to be a clear distinction drawn between technical rela-
tions of production – the system of occupations as defined by ‘the technical con-
tent of their labouring activity’ – and social relations of production – the buying
and selling of labour power. Class is constituted solely through the latter, and
so the focus of class research is less the substance of processes and practices
within the world of work – as explored by, for example, Burawoy (1979) – than
simply the broad quantifiable fissures of exploitation, power and conflict
which, because they still occur within the realm of economic production, can be
mapped using proxy categories. Similarly, Goldthorpe, after abandoning his
earlier appeal to ‘work situation’, decisively declared his class scheme to be
based on abstract employment relations, namely whether occupations involve a
service relationship with their employers or a short-term labour contract. It was
not, therefore, ‘work-centred’, that is, based upon ‘the nature of work tasks and
work roles per se, [or] the degree of autonomy, authority etc. that is conferred
on the individuals performing them’ (Goldthorpe, 1995: 315), and, as a conse-
quence, there was no need for a study of workplace relations, policies or con-
flicts. The sociology of work, it seemed, could no longer tell class analysts much
that was of direct relevance to their research agendas.
On the other hand, however, in another way Wright and Goldthorpe actu-
ally intensified the relationship between class and occupation. No matter what
Wright (1980: 178) said about class and occupation inhabiting ‘different theo-
retical spaces’, and through his varying class schemes over the years, the fact
remained that both relied on those infamous ‘employment aggregates’ – that is,
distinct groupings of occupations – as their only measures of the class structure
to the extent that class, as a variable in statistical research, is to all intents and
purposes constituted by occupational categories. A number of issues have
bedevilled them as a result, Goldthorpe in particular. The categories are, for
example, incredibly homogenizing, unable to recognize the internal variation in
resources, experience and therefore orientation within them (cf. Li et al., 2002).
There may well be similarities of income between jobs grouped together, as
Evans (1992) has laboured to prove, but the differences in wealth more broadly
defined – not just in property and shares, but in savings – as well as in educa-
tion, savoir faire and social connections are disregarded. Yet all, as Goldthorpe
(2007: 174–5) himself revealingly recognizes in contradiction to his usual utili-
tarian causal logic, are bound to differentiate life chances within categories and
even, one might postulate, produce considerable overlaps between them.
But undoubtedly the longest-running controversy has been over the con-
ceptualization of those without paid work. If class is composed of occupational
categories, then those without an occupation – the unemployed, the retired or
homemakers – appear to be outside the class system, which, when the charac-
teristics and orientations of the unemployed and homemakers are actually
observed, is demonstrably at odds with the classed practices revealed, however
modified by their particular situation, that can unite and differentiate within
each excluded category (see e.g. Charlesworth, 2000). To remedy this in terms
of homemakers, Goldthorpe (1983) notoriously took the household as the unit
of analysis, arguing that the head of the household (whether male or female)
somehow transmits their views, values and constraints to their partner no mat-
ter what the latter’s own resources and background. But the fact is, views and
choices – such as a tendency to vote left or right, or to value educational suc-
cess – do not logically stem directly from a current partner’s employment type,
but from one’s own biographical history embedded in present and past experi-
ential milieus (for an empirical demonstration of this, see Plutzer and Zipp,
2001; for the theory see Atkinson, forthcoming). As to the unemployed, they
have either been included as a separate ‘optional’ category or as part of the
working class depending on how many classes one wants to distinguish (which
again over-homogenizes a heterogeneous category, especially in times of flexi-
bilization and recession), or included on the basis of their last occupation,
which could be potentially misleading (see the rather ambiguous advice given
for the Goldthorpe-inspired ONS-SEC classification in Office for National
Statistics, 2005: 13, 15). Wright (1997), for his part, has sought to incorporate
both through what he calls ‘mediated class positions’, but the logic, and the
problems, are essentially the same.
Meanwhile, the split between the sociologies of work and class has become
wider. For one thing, as Grint’s (2005) popular introductory survey of the field
demonstrates, sociologists of work have developed new interests in work orga-
nization guided by luminaries of social theory with little interest in class, such
as Foucault and Latour, and have begun to examine the impact of alternative
divisions such as ethnicity and gender, with debates over class occupying an
increasingly circumscribed zone of operation centred around industrial disputes
and the labour process, seemingly with little actual connection to dominant
strands of class research. But this is not all, for class analysis has itself searched
for a new direction. The dissatisfactions with Goldthorpe and Wright, over not
just their conceptualization of class but their inability to adequately illuminate
or refine the broad social and cultural changes postulated by the various
‘epochal’ theories (Albrow, 1997) that proliferated in the 1980s and 1990s,
prompted a turn towards theory with a more cultural bent for assistance in
unveiling the contemporary operations of class difference and, in particular, to
the work of Bourdieu (see Devine and Savage, 2005, for an overview).
Drawing in various ways on the French theorist’s notion of a gradational
social space of difference in which people are positioned according to their pos-
session of various types of capital and which furnishes them with a habitus, or
set of dispositions, these ‘cultural class analysts’ have set out to examine the var-
ious ways in which classed differences and denigration are encoded in cultural
patterns (e.g. Charlesworth, 2000; Sayer, 2005; Skeggs, 1997) and the repro-
duction of inequality through differential possession of certain forms of capital
and its manifestation in everyday life (Devine, 2004; Lawler, 2000; Reay, 1998;
cf. Lareau, 2003). None of these processes, however, necessarily work them-
selves out through the world of paid employment, and indeed a hallmark of cul-
tural class analysis has been the examination of the classed lives of those usually
excluded from class analysis a la Goldthorpe and Wright: mothers, the unem-
ployed, those still within the education system and so on. Given the clear demon-
stration of how class orients the lives of these people, this is undoubtedly a step
forward and flags the limits of previous quantitative approaches to class. But the
trouble is, in unlocking the conceptual treasure trove of the sociology of culture,
the relationship between class and work has become tangibly wider and decid-
edly unclear. As Gail Hebson (2009) has already noticed, most of these studies
refer briefly, if at all, to the realm of work, either seeing capital as flowing from
occupation in a straightforward way or else leaving unelaborated how those
without work acquire capital and are positioned in social space, and even self-
styled programmatic statements leave this unexplored and muddy the waters by
focussing only on aspects of Bourdieu’s work (e.g. Savage et al., 2005). To make
matters worse, in instances where cultural class analysts decide to attribute their
respondents to classes or conduct quantitative work, they tend to fall back (for
want of an alternative) on Goldthorpe’s, or the ONS’s, occupational class scheme
(e.g. Ball, 2003; Bennett et al., 2009; Hebson, 2009), despite the fact its categories
are constructed through a completely different logic and cram together many
occupations Bourdieu would distinguish.
There seem to be two reasons for this. First of all, pragmatism dictates that
class analysts use the tools available to them the best they can: it just happens
that Goldthorpe’s categories more or less hold a monopoly in this regard.
Secondly, there is the broader point, rightly picked out by Savage et al. (2005:
42), that because Bourdieu was not a conventional class theorist he never pro-
vided the full methodological and procedural elaboration necessary for repro-
duction in further research standard in Anglo-American class analysis. Yet both
of these stumbling blocks can be overcome, and indeed they must be if we are
to move class analysis forward adequately. The cultural class analysts have
promised a new dawn in class research where the hegemony of Goldthorpe and
Wright can be dismantled and a powerful programme of Bourdieu-inspired
qualitative and quantitative research established, but it still awaits firm foun-
dations. We need to clarify, elaborate and extend where Bourdieu did not, and
that is precisely what the rest of the article intends to do.
A New Nexus
First of all, then, we need to make clear the relationship between social space
and occupations, and we can start with the foundational assertion that, con-
trary to what Weininger (2005: 86ff), in his otherwise commendably lucid and
comprehensive overview of Bourdieu’s theory of class, says, the social space is
not a space of occupations or an occupational structure.1 Rather, as Brubaker
(1985: 761) put it, it concerns the differentiation of ‘social relations in general’,
with ‘classes’ being distinguished not through relations of production or in mar-
kets, but ‘by differing conditions of existence, different systems of dispositions
produced by differential conditioning, and differing endowments of capital or
power’. The space is, to be precise, structured by three axes, with one’s overall
position indicating specific conditions of existence: the overall amount of capi-
tal possessed in all its forms (economic, cultural and social), whether one’s cap-
ital stock is primarily cultural or economic in character, and finally trajectory,
Having said this, there is still an obvious nexus between social space and work
which has not been spelled out hitherto. The fact of the matter is, occupation,
as Bourdieu (1987: 4) himself argues, remains a ‘good and economic indictor of
position in social space’, especially in quantitative research, primarily because
it requires and perpetuates a certain amount and structure of capital – certain
occupations require a certain level and type of education, occupations are dif-
ferentially paid and so on. Clouds of individuals, therefore, tend to correspond
roughly with certain types of occupations – intellectual-creative, public sector,
business, manual work, clerical work and so on.4 This is partly why the social
space is structured into clouds rather than an even spread: certain occupational
types require and distribute similar capital rewards which are markedly differ-
ent from other occupational types. It is also why a key aspect of the third
dimension of social space, time or trajectory is the rise or fall of whole sections
of social space as particular occupations become credentialized, or start to pay
less, and so on.
But there is more to the nexus than this, however, for on a more qualitative
level work can clearly be seen to impact upon, and therefore complicate, the expe-
riences granted by conditions of existence, and consequently the habitus, through
what Bourdieu (1987: 4) called ‘occupational effects’. We can distinguish three
levels of increasing specificity here. First of all, work could, as Bourdieu (1984:
438) analysed, impress upon agents’ habitus through the generic effects of ‘work-
ing conditions and the occupational milieu’, including the typical spatio-temporal
and organizational structure of forms of work. He uses the broad, and unfortu-
nately unelaborated, examples of the effects of the ‘workshop versus the office’
and larger versus smaller firms in producing certain dispositions, in this case
political ones (Bourdieu, 1984: 438, 447), but we can also draw on a wealth of
studies in the sociology of work to flesh out this link further. The monotony,
drudgery, physical difficulty and lack of authority in routine manual work could
produce, for example, the ‘blanked minds’ that Beynon (1984[1973]) speaks of
at the Ford factory; that is, a propensity to ‘zone out’ when faced with the same
dull, repetitive task, or the attempt to gain informal control by effecting the pace
of production and ‘having a laugh’ through jokes, wind-ups and ‘piss taking’ docu-
mented by Willis (1979). In fact Willis’ ethnographic description of shop floor
culture reveals in vivid detail the manner in which the class habitus of the worker
is compounded by their work environment: the fact that a physically demanding,
‘hard’ environment becomes the ‘natural’ environment (1979: 189), the practical
familiarity with the tools of production, or, to use the language of phenomenol-
ogy, their incorporation in to the corporeal schema as extensions of the body, and
the accumulation of practical skills ‘as if by osmosis from the technical environ-
ment’ (1979: 191), all of which dovetail with and accentuate the general class
disposition to vaunt the practical over the theoretical and produce a vision of
masculinity attuned to the harsh conditions faced.5
Alternative forms of work have analogous processes: office-based employ-
ment, service sector work demanding emotional labour and the professions all
involve familiarization with a whole different set of demands, technological,
interpersonal and spatial accoutrements and differing levels of autonomy,
authority and theory over practice that will, ultimately, sediment into the habi-
tus in some way and strengthen or complicate class dispositions. Office-based
work, for instance, being removed from the physical demands of manual labour
(plus being more feminized than manual work), may contribute to the mind
over hand, culture over barbarism disposition prevalent in the upper sections of
social space (Bourdieu, 1984) and ambivalently splashed amongst the middle,
with men in the expanding latter category perhaps struggling to cohere their
work environment and their sense of masculinity. Furthermore, a key example
There are, then, the theoretical foundations for the dialogue between the sociol-
ogy of work and the sociology of class that the previously dominant approaches
were closing down and which Hebson (2009) has recently urged amongst the
Bourdieusians. Yet the fact remains that occupational experiences and disposi-
tions are separable from those of class per se. It is individuals that are plotted in
social space on the basis of their capital stocks, and which occupations map on
possess and will therefore have similar class dispositions (form over function,
manner over matter or whatever) as their employed social neighbours, albeit
specified by the particularities of their situation. The experience of housewives
and female part-time workers, for example, is structured by their confinement to
the domestic sphere as well as the internalized gendered dispositions forged by a
lifetime of external expectations. The tastes and practices they develop and dis-
play, either through the home (choice of furnishings, food bought and prepared)
or in their ‘leisure time’ (a ‘night out with the girls’ versus art or yoga classes)
are also shaped by the material and cultural conditions of existence provided by
their capital possession, including that coming from their spouses (who may be
more or less generous in how much money they distribute to their wife and the
household).8 Likewise, the unemployed share a common plight which will affect
their practices, but the differences in capital between them – education, back-
ground, savings, redundancy packages – plots them at different points in social
space and, along with the importance of trajectory in this instance (two people
with the same low means will act very differently if one was once a high-level
manager), marks out differences of disposition.
This means that, whilst statistics may reveal that the unemployed dispro-
portionately gather in the dominated section of social space where jobs are less
secure, as a category they can be so heterogeneous as to spread right over social
space. In fact, the same principle applies, in a less extreme way, to occupations
as well, and this is one of the most important, but overlooked, consequences of
Bourdieu’s perspective. Occupations are not pinpoints in social space, denoting
residence in a tiny, discrete, homogenous sector of the social structure. Instead,
because occupations going under the same name, with similar tasks, can remu-
nerate to relatively variable levels and require variable levels of credentials, they
occupy spaces with a greater or lesser spread over the social space. Witness the
diagrams in Distinction (1984: 262, 340), displaying correspondence analyses
of different sections of the social space, in which we see that the (analytical)
boundaries of particular occupational categories range over regions of different
shapes and sizes and even overlap.9 Secondary teachers, for example, tend to
cluster in the upper left section of social space, having more cultural capital rel-
ative to economic capital and displaying, on the whole, the dispositions and
practices associated with that zone accordingly. But we can recognize that,
empirically, individuals employed as secondary teachers have varying levels and
composition of capital (dependent on age, seniority, the school and subject
taught), and hence conditions of existence and dispositions, to the extent that
some may even overlap with industrial employers, themselves sneaking over
from their general gathering place in the upper right section of social space. Of
course, who gathers in which parts of this occupational region is itself affected
by an array of factors, not least gender and age (women and the youthful gen-
erally occupying lower positions) but also origins (especially in terms of social
capital available), and some occupations will have a greater spread than others.
So there is enough dispersion to recognize the internal heterogeneity of occu-
pational groups, even if there is still, analytically, a central hub of the occupational
group – a mean position – around which the plotted individuals swarm.10 This
is something that Goldthorpe’s discrete classification, with its clear-cut bound-
aries and categorical ‘in-or-out’ logic, simply cannot recognize, raising all kinds
of questions over the analytical use of such a blunt instrument for picking out
the nuances and real patterns of social life, but the ultimate upshot, of this and
the other points in this section, is that occupation alone may not be enough
information to plot people reasonably accurately in the social and symbolic
space and fully understand their position within the multitude of class pro-
cesses. Knowledge of at least wealth, credentials and origins, all of which
Bourdieu uses alongside occupation in the final construction of social space,
would also be necessary in both quantitative and qualitative research to flesh
out the explanatory picture adequately.
Conclusion
What we have, in effect, is a reversal of the relationship between work and class
put in place by Wright and Goldthorpe. On the one hand, there is a new space
opening up for dialogue between the sociology of work and the sociology of
class, as processes within the world of work are once again envisaged as bear-
ing directly on the conceptualization and subject matter of Bourdieu-inspired
class research: experience, dispositions, struggles and social difference and dis-
tance. It allows, as a result, a valuable insight into the specification of the class
habitus, something which has vexed numerous critics of Bourdieu in recent
times (for an overview, see Atkinson, forthcoming). On the other hand, the rela-
tionship between class and occupation in statistical research, or for attribution
purposes, is weakened. Occupations may still be useful indicators of some
major elements of capital – so long as the categories are attuned to Bourdieusian
assumptions rather than Goldthorpe’s – but work is nevertheless logically sep-
arable from position in social space and, furthermore, gives only a rough proxy
for a heterogeneous, if limited, area of social spread rather than a discrete pin-
point. Ultimately, people without work can be plotted in social space, and peo-
ple in work can only be roughly plotted.
I would venture, therefore, a few suggestions for the practical conduct of
Bourdieu-inspired class analysis. Firstly, on a qualitative level it is important to
know as much about the respondents’ available capital, past and present, as
possible, and the likely effects of their job or lack thereof, if the differing dis-
positions and perceptions of apparently similarly situated individuals are to be
fully comprehended rather than written off as idiosyncratic or evidence of the
theoretical weakness of the habitus (cf. Lahire, 2003). In quantitative research,
on the other hand, there is a need to move away from the reliance on
Goldthorpe’s, or the ONS’s, scheme for classifying occupations – it may be
handy, but it is not logically sound – and to construct an alternative set of cate-
gories that can better capture the key divisions of capital and therefore condi-
tions of existence whilst remaining cognisant of the complications of occupational
Acknowledgements
My thanks are to Harriet Bradley, Mike Savage and the three anonymous referees
for their useful comments. I hope they will forgive me for not being able to address
all of their concerns here. I am also grateful to Mike Savage for putting me in touch
with the editors, who were very accommodating and encouraging.
Notes
1 This also appears contrary to Bourdieu’s earlier work with Boltanski on the
space of posts (1981), before he had to ‘rethink the problem of social class from
top to bottom’ (Bourdieu and Wacquant, 1992: 160).
2 I am aware that Bennett et al. (2009) have recently rejected the idea of social
space in their attempt to reproduce Distinction, but, for reasons that cannot
be elaborated here, I am not convinced by their methodological procedure or,
therefore, their conceptual conclusions.
3 This position can therefore assimilate the ‘individuals in families’ approach
demonstrated in the analysis of Plutzer and Zipp (2001) and, under a different
description, by Bennett et al. (2009: Chap 12), in which capital and classed
experiences are logically individual but inflected by the dynamics of the house-
hold, even though the latter is premised on (mistaken) criticism of Bourdieu.
4 Notice that these categories are different from Goldthorpe’s because they dis-
tinguish the cultural and economic fractions of the dominant class rather than
rolling them together in a single service class. Hence the problematic nature of
current uses of Goldthorpe’s scheme amongst Bourdieu-inspired researchers.
5 Of course when the workers are women, as in Hebson’s (2009) study 30 years
later, the result is a compromised femininity, but the championing of being
‘down to the ground’, i.e. grounded or practical, and the resultant rejection of
white-collar work, is still evident (2009: 34).
6 This entails recognition of Goldthorpe’s distinction between the ‘labour contract’
and ‘service relationship’, but sees it as an important element in structuring subjec-
tive experience rather than life chances. The latter are more coherently linked to
general conditions of existence, which can, as we will see, transcend occupation.
7 I have elsewhere argued that, when looked at closely, Bourdieu’s theory as it
stands is actually unable to grasp fully and coherently such complicating fac-
tors (Atkinson, forthcoming), but also forwarded my own phenomenological
remedy in the same paper.
8 Although both studies lack the methodological depth necessary to unveil this
richness, for the broad point cf. Green et al. (1990) and Bennett et al. (2009).
9 These spaces are not ‘fields’ in Bourdieu’s terminology, as they fail to display
the criteria necessary to describe them as such—for example, common stakes,
struggle and competition, etc. They are, however affected by the existence of
fields and people’s places and strategies within them, whether the field of power
(Bourdieu, 1984), the field of higher education institutions (Bourdieu, 1996),
the journalistic field (Bourdieu, 1998), the field formed by a large employer
(Bourdieu, 2005), or whatever.
10 This dispersal and overlap is implied in Bennett et al.’s (2009) research but left
theoretically unelaborated, primarily because they reject the idea of social
space, and obfuscated by their reliance on those troublesome ONS categories.
References
Devine, F. (2004) Class Practices: How Parents Help their Children Get Good Jobs.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Devine, F. and M. Savage (2005) ‘The Cultural Turn, Sociology and Class Analysis’,
in F. Devine, M. Savage, J. Scott and R. Crompton (eds) Rethinking Class:
Culture, Identities and Lifestyle, pp. 1–23. Basingstoke: Palgrave.
Esping-Anderson, G. (ed.) (1993) Changing Classes: Stratification and Mobility in
Post-industrial Societies. London: Sage.
Evans, G. (1992) ‘Testing the Validity of the Goldthorpe Class Schema’, European
Sociological Review 8(3): 211–32.
Fine, G.A. (2006) ‘Shopfloor Cultures: The Idioculture of Production in
Operational Meteorology’, The Sociological Quarterly 47: 1–19.
Giddens, A. (1981) The Class Structure of the Advanced Societies, 2nd ed. London:
Hutchinson.
Goldthorpe, J.H. (with C. Llewellyn and C. Payne) (1980) Social Mobility and Class
Structure in Modern Britain. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Goldthorpe, J.H. (1983) ‘Women and Class Analysis: In Defence of the
Conventional View’, Sociology 17(4): 465–88.
Goldthorpe, J.H. (1995) ‘The Service Class Revisited’, in T. Butler and M. Savage
(eds) Social Change and the Middle Classes, pp. 313–29. London: Routledge.
Goldthorpe, J.H. (2007) On Sociology, Second Edition, Volume Two: Illustration
and Retrospect. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Goldthorpe, J.H., D. Lockwood, F. Bechhofer and J. Platt (1968a) The Affluent
Worker: Industrial Attitudes and Behaviour. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Goldthorpe, J.H., D. Lockwood, F. Bechhofer and J. Platt (1968b) The Affluent
Worker: Political Attitudes and Behaviour. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Goldthorpe, J.H., D. Lockwood, F. Bechhofer and J. Platt (1969) The Affluent
Worker in the Class Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Green, E., S. Hebron and D. Woodward (1990) Women’s Leisure, What Leisure?
London: Macmillan.
Grint, K. (2005) The Sociology of Work, 3rd ed. Cambridge: Polity.
Hebson, G. (2009) ‘Renewing Class Analysis in Studies of the Workplace’, Sociology
43(1): 27–44.
Lahire, B. (2003) ‘From the Habitus to an Individual Heritage of Dispositions’,
Poetics 31(5): 329–55.
Lareau, A. (2003) Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race and Family Life. Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press.
Lawler, S. (2000) Mothering the Self: Mothers, Daughters, Subjects. London:
Routledge.
Li, Y., F. Bechhofer, R. Stewart, D. McCrone, M. Anderson and L. Jamieson (2002)
‘A Divided Working Class? Planning and Career Perception in the Service and
Working Classes’, Work, Employment and Society 16(4): 617–36.
Lockwood, D. (1958) The Blackcoated Worker. London: Allen and Unwin.
Marx, K. (1954) Capital, Volume 1. London: Lawrence and Wishart.
Mills, C.W. (1951/2002) White-Collar: The American Middle Classes. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Office for National Statistics (2005) The National Statistics Socio-economic
Classification User Manual. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.
Will Atkinson