In the previous two discussions of class, I gave a brief history of the class structure, and sketched out a theory of how humans moved from no classes to two classes, then to three, four, many, and then back to two again, sort of. To reiterate: in the United States (and many other societies) class has nothing to do with the Bourgeoisie and the Proletariat. It’s not about the Rich and the Poor, nor is it about the producers and the consumers, though all of these have a place in the discussion. The class structure (and the resultant struggle) exists between those members of the society who consume without thought or question, and those who refrain from such consumption to every possible degree.

Or, to put it another way, the class structure can be defined by those who happily (if blindly) follow the whims of Capital and those who attempt to limit their involvement in Capital’s disgusting habits.

Of course, given that my strange conception of class is not a strict duality like most other class schema, there may only be one class after all, insofar as class is a fluid construction that allows people to slip and slide between the polar coordinates, to exist in different locations at different times, and to take part in consumption to varying degrees as income (or credit) and will (or desire) allow.

An unfortunate consequence of this view is that it allows a single individual to be an unbridled consumer in the morning, a resister of capital in the afternoon, and a reluctant consumer in the evening, though most people are not quite so schizophrenic in their day-to-day habits. The truth is, most people don’t resist at all; most participate without a second thought, and those who wish to move against Capital still end up participating to some degree: the web of Capital extends to almost all corners of society and the outer reaches of the universe.

All of this may appear to be limited to the Western nations, or even to the United States exclusively. However, this dynamic continuum of consumption applies even to people and societies without the same level of consumptive capacity as the United States. In so-called underprivileged and developing nations and communities, people still consume, accumulate, agglomerate, and follow the whims of one of the identities that capital occupies. And all of these forms always already lead to greed and envy in any and all human societies that structure themselves around capital.

Now I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, but as I seem to be jumping into Bourdieu without any warning, I suppose I better sketch out his theory of capital quickly, just so anybody that reads this—if anyone ever reads this—will have a slightly better idea of where I’m coming from.

So Bourdieu offers three concrete forms of capital (plus a slightly controversial fourth instance that I may or may not go into here), that help to clarify my claim that capital’s deleterious effects spread even to small, hierarchical societies.

First, and easiest to explain, there is economic capital, the sort of stuff we often think of as capital: money, property, toys that have resale or some other sort of value. You’re very likely to be familiar with this form, so I’ll say no more about it, except that most discussions of class and capitalism and economics and society and the like focus on this single variant of capital, largely to their detriment.

Second, there is cultural capital. This is all of the cultural stuff that an individual pursues: visual, aural, olfactory, arts (art, music, food), but also sports, television, books (fiction and non), film, theatre (and theater), and etc. For Bourdieu, the transmission and accumulation of this form of capital arises from familial and other social ties (those things that make up the third form of capital), though it seems likely that—with effort—an individual can accrue cultural capital that is foreign to her immediate family and kinship ties, and thus move herself into a different clique.

Third up: Social Capital, the ties we have with other individuals and groups: familial ties, friendships, fraternal orders, patrons of a particular tavern, members of religious or political groups, or pretty much any other group. Social capital is all about who you know and the leverage that intimacy can create.#

As you might have guessed, these forms of capital feed off one another, and in some sense give rise to one another. Economic capital grants access to Social and Cultural Capital, but does not guarantee accrual of either; Social Capital generally goes hand in hand with Cultural Capital, but may or may not have any relationship to Economic Capital; Cultural Capital can give rise to Social and Economic Capital, may arise from both, but doesn’t necessarily have any direct relationship to either (of which I—as an art historian who makes a living from researching corporations and has few friends or only passing acquaintances—can attest).

And these forms of capital can operate independently of one another. Consider small religious groups in rural communities: members may have very little in the way of Economic Capital, but I can guarantee that they exclude community members who patronize other sects, they help some members more than others, there are small cliques within the religious establishment (deacons, elders, and the like), and so on. While such groups may tend to operate from a position of mutual aid, I suspect that, like Orwell’s animals, some members are more equal than others.

Or consider a small tribe somewhere far away from modern life, operating much as they have for centuries. If such groups have any sort of social hierarchy, there will be some members who benefit from group affiliation more than others, some that have more Social Capital than others (tribal elders), some who have more Cultural Capital than others (religious leaders), and some who have neither. This is the nature of hierarchical arrangements.

In short, unless a given society is structured around mutual aid, if the social structure is one that values accumulation, personal growth, individualism, and the like, if it has has any sort of social or cultural hierarchy, all societies will exploit some members and privilege some others. Capitalism is merely one expression of this.

Interestingly, the arch enemy of Capitalism was actually (and continues to be) worse about exploiting its members than even the worst Capitalist actors, and this is worth exploring.

While Communism is a great idea, its practical application placed all of capital into the hands of the Bolshevik, which then—quite contrary to Marxism, even Leninism—became arch capitalists, consuming caviar and champagne while the citizenry died in the fields or languished in bread lines, and political dissidents by the thousands languished in the gulags.

The Bolsheviks held all of the Political Capital of Communist Russia, and, as such, commanded all of the economic and cultural capital as well: they essentially replaced a monarchy with a plutarchy. They called themselves communists, but there was nothing remotely communist about them (except for state ownership of property and the means of production). Or, perhaps that is what people get when they decide that any one group has power over any other group. And this may be the ultimate problem.

It may not be about Capitalism at all. All the inequities of the world may result entirely from hierarchical social arrangements. If this is so, the only true solution may be Anarchy, the complete destruction of the current social order and a rebuilding of society based around mutual aid. And this is unlikely to happen, since we all enjoy some benefit from the contemporary social order, even if our enjoyment is fleeting and based around gadgets, toys, and flickering, fictional two- and three-dimensional images.

I, for one, am writing this screed in Google Docs, on one of several gadgets, and I would have a very difficult time submitting this to a (potentially) worldwide audience without such gadgets. And, while I know it’s exceedingly likely that I would find a great deal of genuine happiness and joy from being a part of a society where everyone worked to benefit everyone else, and where no one had any more power or property or food or love than anyone else, where everyone loved and fed everyone, I would have a very difficult time giving up all my toys (and the promise of better, faster, prettier toys in the future) to go and join such a society.

And so would pretty much every other human.#

For the present, I expect I and others like me (and all of us, really) are largely stuck in our various economic and social systems, and all we can do is try to make little microcosms of mutual aid and respect, generosity, and, dare I say, love.

After all, we do this sort of thing all the time (and this is why I believe an egalitarian social arrangement is possible, but more on this later, perhaps): when friends get together and chat, share meals, clean up together, and share their time and talent with one another without anyone barking orders or even issuing requests; when we stop and offer assistance to strangers, expecting nothing in return; when individuals volunteer to help build homes or prepare meals for strangers, teach children to sing, or paint, or skateboard, and all manner of other similar activities. The trick is to expand and extend these and similar activities until they take over and Capital in all its forms becomes forgotten. Utopian? Yes. Achievable? Absolutely, if only for brief moments.

So I’m back, kind of, where I started: how does one move away from Capital, leave consumption-for-consumption’s sake behind, move towards something different, something other and better than what there is today? That’s sort of what I’m attempting to discover with this project, and I’m not quite there yet, but maybe I’m getting closer.

Up next, I’ll say a bit more about Capital, how it works and the effects it has on those who participate in Capitalism, and (maybe) how things could be different. And, please, let me know if I’m getting too crazy here, because I may very well be entirely off about all of this.