16 May 2019

Class Sketch

Mssrs. Cleese, Barker, and Corbett in the Class Sketch 
Written by Marty Feldman and John Law
The Frost Report (7 April 1966)


I.


If I remember my political theory correctly, then class consciousness refers to an individual's knowledge of their socio-economic status which allows them to judge where their own best interests lie. For Marxists, the hope is that by raising awareness of inequality and injustice, etc., one increases the chances of collective action and, ultimately, revolution.      

However, whilst I've always been aware of myself as working class and fully conscious of what that entails - and whilst I've always had a certain level of mistrust for the middle classes - I've never been motivated to join the Labour Party or align myself with those on the far left who long for power and to establish a dictatorship of the proletariat.  

In the end, I just don't care enough about even my own interests; certainly not when these are conceived in material terms of ownership. According to my Armenian friend, Vahe, that's because I'm too other-worldly, suffer from a form of false consciousness, don't fully understand the historical process, blah, blah, blah ...


II.    

In a short essay written in 1927, D. H. Lawrence argues that the gulf between social classes is very real and very deep, though there are now, he says, only two great classes: middle and working; the aristocratic upper class having entirely been absorbed into the bourgeoisie.

Indeed, notes Lawrence, even the working class share in the aspirations of the middle class; to be successful and to have a lot of money in the bank. However, there remains a very real difference and division which is rooted in feeling and in the politics of touch:

"What is the peculiar repugnance one feels, towards entering the middle class world? [...]
      What is the obstacle? I have looked for it in myself, as a clue to this dangerous cleavage between the classes. And I find it is a very deep obstacle. It is in the manner of contact. The contact, among the lower classes [...] is much more immediate, more physical, between man and man, than it ever is among the middle classes. The middle class can be far more intimate, yet never so near to one another. It is the difference between the animal, physical affinity that can govern the lives of men, and the other, the affinity of culture and purpose, which actually does govern the mass today.
      But the affinity of culture and purpose that holds the vast middle class world together seems to me to be an intensification today, of the acquisitive and possessive instinct." [39]

       
III.

Like Lawrence, I was  born among the working class. My father too went down the mines when he left school - though unlike Lawrence's father, he hated it and didn't last long as a collier. After the War, he and my mother - at her instigation - moved south, to London, leaving their old life in the north east of England behind. Eventually, they ended up in Essex in a newly built two-up, two-down council house, where I was born.

My father was employed in a non-managerial position at the Bank of England printing works in Debden. My mother was a traditional housewife, who occasionally did part-time jobs outside the home if money was particularly tight. She had hopes for me and my sister, but nothing too grand or ambitious: some kind of clean office job that paid well. Like the Lawrence household, ours was absolutely working class: tabloid-reading, football-loving, and ITV-watching. 

Of course, one is never entirely shaped by or a prisoner to the past, to one's background, to one's class. But one can never quite escape it either. Or - in my case as in Lawrence's - one never really wants to escape and move up in the world, or get on in life. Why? Well, according to Lawrence, it's because this involves too great a cost; one has to sacrifice something vital and vibrate at a different pitch of being, as it were.

For between the classes exists "a peculiar, indefinable difference" that determines the way the heart beats. This might sound like nonsense, but I know exactly what Lawrence means. And I understand entirely why it is he never quite managed (or wanted) to climb up the social ladder, even when offered a helping hand to do so:

"No one was unfriendly. [...] But it was no good. Unless one were by nature a climber, one could not respond in kind. The middle class seemed quite open, quite willing for one to climb into it. And one turned away, ungratefully. [...]
      And that I have not got a thousand friends, and a place [...] among the esteemed, is entirely my own fault. The door to 'success' had been held open to me. The social ladder had been put ready for me to climb. I have known all kinds of people, and been treated quite kindly by everyone [...] whom I have known personally.
      Yet here I am, nowhere, as it were, and infinitely an outsider. And of my own choice." [37-38]

Precisely: here I am nowhere, with nowhere left to go.


See: D. H. Lawrence, 'Which Class I Belong To', Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 33-40. 

See also 'Myself Revealed' in the above text, pp. 175-81, which is essentially a variant of 'Which Class I Belong To', that concludes: "I cannot make the transfer from my own class into the middle class. I cannot, not for anything in the world, forfeit my passional consciousness and my old blood-affinity with my fellow-men and the animals and the land, for that other thin, spurious mental conceit which is all that is left of the mental consciousness once it has made itself exclusive." [181] 

Note: 'Myself Revealed' was included in Assorted Articles (1930) under the title 'Autobiographical Sketch'.  


6 comments:

  1. Whatever Lawrence's literary credentials, is it not at least potentially problematic that a 1927 essay should be used as a lens to turn on our post-technological late capitalist society nearly a century later that is surely so different from Lawrence's own 'between the wars' England?

    Like the writer, my grandfather also went 'down the mines' after WWII in the suitably named town of Coalville, Leicestershire - before becoming, in a poetic reversal that pleases me greatly to this day, a professional ballroom dancer, and cha-cha-ing on the earth he once disappeared beneath to hammer fuel from. His political outlook was mainly shaped by providing for his wife and family, and the lot of his fellow man/miner mattered to him, I think, not a jot. Indeed, he once told me a story where, so he claimed, the union rep suggested he clock off early and, fearing for his earnings, he began swinging a chain around his head as an expression of violent economic individualism. Such a scene suggests family is at least as powerful a political driver as, as Lawrence himself seems to imply, the faintly mystical membership of a class, and the cleavage between procreators and creators (of course, some try to do both) is, for me, the most ideological thing there is.

    In the UK, I think what one has seen, historically, is a cleavage in the traditional working class: between the right-wing, Royalist 'aspirational' working class (to which my grandparents aligned themselves) and the left-leaning, unionised, socialist part. The internecine snobbery of such an alienated duality is just one of the many corrosive breakages in what passes for the British body politic.

    While, of course, failing to explore the real phenomenon of such intra-working class snobbery of the kind personified by the shame-propelled, pseudo middle-class monster Margaret Thatcher and her ruthless project of social engineering, the classic 'Class Sketch' does at least deftly interrogate class in ways that curdle such binary (or trinary) boundaries, by evoking the ideas, for example, of 'innate breeding', old/new money, perceived vulgarity and the sentimental equation between poverty and honesty, in which only the benignly working class Ronnie Corbett turns out to 'know his place'.

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    1. What is the criteria or cut off point, I wonder, for contemporary relevance?

      And what, pray, do you mean by 'post-technological'? Not sure that even makes sense; has there ever been a human community - ancient or modern, primitive or advanced - that hasn't utilised technology?

      I wasn't really attempting to offer a critical analysis of class; rather, I wanted to show how Lawrence's work still resonates with me at a personal level.

      Nor was I suggesting that one could locate such an analysis in Lawrence's writings. As a novelist and a poet, he was the first to admit that he was primarily concerned with the feelings inside an individual, rather than with politics per se.

      I did enjoy your little autobiographical sketch and I also would pretty much echo your remarks on the famous TV sketch with mssrs. Cleese, Barker and Corbett.

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  2. I don't want to state a dogmatic argument re the criteria of relevance/contemporaneity in these things (which would be a much longer, nuanced and discursive conversation than the arbitary word-limit enforced by the comment boxes on this blog), but I think most of us who are even passingly informed by critical thinking would agree contextual markers (time, place, primary/secondary actors etc. etc.) have at least some bearing on how literary materials are received and evaluated, and indeed should do. It's fairly obvious, surely, that Lawrence's England of 1927 was drastically different - politically, economically, technologically - from the fractured horrorshow of the UK in 2019, so my questioning the transposition of his early modern essay onto our late/post-modern society stands without further fuss.

    I found this piece tantalising, but in a not displeasing way. Class, like life, is so irrational. For me, Pulp's iconic single remains the most prescient and contagious statement on the topic in recent years hands down.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6WWcrKnytc

    PS I think the connotations of 'post-technological' are also not too obscure - namely, a society that operates after the digital revolution of the 1980s/1990s.

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    1. Yes, 1927 is another time and England was another place.

      However, it's not that long ago and whilst I agree one needs to exercise a degree of caution when offering an analysis of the present that looks to the past, I think that much of Lawrence's work retains its contemporaneity.

      As Geoff Dyer wrote in an introduction to a recent selection of Lawrence's essays, his writing "floats free from the period of its composition, from the anxiously shared prerogatives of the age" in a way that rarely happens with other modernists.

      PS: The world after the digital revolution is post-industrial, not post-technological.

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  3. We'll agree (perhaps) to differ re DHL and the contemporary world, albeit you're far more qualified than me to comment about his legacy. Neverthleess, Dyer's claims are at best questionable, and at worst ludicrous. (He obviously has never learned an iota of critical thinking, or perhaps he's just idealistically blinded by his over-estimation of Lawrence's genius.)

    PPS I still don't have a problem with 'post-technological' (or, if one prefers' 'post-digital', as defined by Agamben among others) to describe the contemporary age as enacting/en route to technological singularity.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postdigital

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    1. I would've thought that the idea of art as timeless (or untimely) might have appealed to you ...?

      Why not just say technological? Would you describe the Soviet Union as post-communist because it too follows a revolution? It just doesn't make sense ...

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