In Pierre Bourdieu’s “The Forms of Capital,” he presents a clear extrapolation of the idea of capital, as originally presented by Marx and Engels. Rather than merely mentioning capital as a sort of single entity, which is the product of labor, reaped by the bourgeois capitalists, instead of the wage laborers, Bourdieu sees capital as much more multi-faceted. Indeed, the existence of economic capital—more or less identical to Marx and Engels’ ideations—is coupled with that of social capital and cultural capital, the latter of which may be divided into that which is embodied, objectified, and institutionalized. While this segregation of capital is in some ways liberating and enlightening, it is also grave and damning. When solely economic capital is considered, classism and inequality can be rather easily ameliorated with a reasonable strategy of regulation. Taxes and wealth (re)distribution can often greatly assist those clamoring for a more egalitarian society. However, because cultural and social capital hold inherent good, separate from any extraneous monetary benefit, and because they are often connotated with virtue, the task of forming an egalitarian society becomes much more challenging.
Take social capital, for instance. Aside from any sort of monetary benefit a social person might glean, her extensive network of human relationships can very clearly be advantageous. One can find evidence in modern psychological studies that reveal that positive interpersonal relationships play a great role in bringing about someone’s sense of joy. Moreover, in Aristotle’s Politics, he argues that living well and flourishing in a community is a product of positive social action and relationships. It is also clear—especially given the contemporary business culture of networking, recommendations, and LinkedIn—that such social capital is critical to finding new and more lucrative professions, a helpful ingredient for economic mobility.
Cultural capital has similar qualities. It can be in the form of personal passions, such as for music or literature; their physical form, such as possessing instruments or books; or in their institutional form, such as by studying one’s passions in college. While all of these frequently confer economic benefits to their beholder, they are very much intertwined with virtue, with striving for excellence, and are therefore rewarding in their own right.
Because these two types of capital are both so advantageous outside of their engagement with money, and because they are often seen as virtuous and enamored by all, they are much more difficult to regulate. It’s very unpopular across the political spectrum to reject someone the opportunity to read, to aesthetically experience art, or to pursue one’s own passions, at least when such behavior isn’t at the stake of other people. Indeed, even in the United States, spending on certain types of cultural capital is tax-deductible. We very much see these traits as honorable and admirable, and yet, they enable the advancement of a stark and segregated socioeconomic system. They make available certain opportunities for higher classes of people who have the time and resources to pursue passions extraneous to their own profession, while wage-laborers remain tethered to their employment for two reasons. Firstly, they don’t earn enough to be able to succeed and advance within their profession. Secondly, their own work, as exploitation, forces them to leverage such a high level of energy in their job, that they just don’t have enough time to attempt to advance their social or cultural capital [1].
Thus, if we choose to reckon with Bourdieu's contention of the three different types of capital, while simultaneously acknowledging the multiplicity of at least two of them—as both symptomatic of the pursuit of virtue and the perpetuation of economic exploitation—we must realize that ameliorating the inequalities of any society is a much more complex task than merely taxing the rich and giving those funds to the poor. It requires making available opportunities to gain cultural and social capital to all, and ensuring that the multifacetedness of those opportunities, likely embodied by institutions and programs, remains as complex as the types of capital themselves.
Ultimately, while such a revolution may be similar to a Marxist one, in that it leverages the economic capital of the bourgeoisie, its distribution would have to answer to the various complexities of the present social system. It also means that the bourgeoisie’s social and cultural capital may likely stay intact, even through a revolution, especially since human relationships and passions are internal, only erased by brainwashing or death. This is to say that, while Marx and Engels certainly call for a revolution, Bourdieu may argue that such a revolution is a lot more complicated and versatile than anyone previously imagined.
[1] Students can certainly empathize with aspects of this. The grandiose amounts of work required of students means that it’s difficult to pursue incredible feats, such as learning other languages or instruments, outside of classwork and maybe a job. And yet, given that university education carries with it cultural and social capital far transcendent of that which one may glean from mindless labor in factory settings, arguing for an equivalency between the two would ultimately be shortsighted and insensitive.
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