A book, a red book (of course), simply titled Class in Australia. A front cover emblazoned with Sally McManus proclaiming that it is “a powerful and vibrant study of the complex realities of class in modern Australia”, and a back cover announcing an examination of class rooted in the specifics of Australian settler-colonialism which also takes account of race and gender relations. A big promise from Monash University Publishing about Steven Threadgold and Jessica Gerard’s book which was published in February this year.
With this advance advertising, I pre-ordered a copy, but I am afraid I was ultimately disappointed in the purchase. As an edited collection of essays, it is a hard ask to generate a coherent picture of the complexities of class (and that was probably not the aim), but from the opening chapters I was not sure who the audience was for the book.
Much of the work plotted issues or the various authors’ research in relation to existing academic literature, but without a knowledge of that literature it was hard to evaluate the arguments and contributions. But for an academic audience, the short generalist pieces lacked the data and detail to be convincing. My reading was somewhere in between, and I was left wanting more.
Theory
Threadgold and Gerard’s introduction argued for the importance of class as a concept, and against arguments of the “death of class”. They argue that
“class is necessary for understanding how Australian society functions, how the powerful maintain their interests, and how social and cultural institutions work to reproduce inequality”.
No argument from me on that, but they neither define class or a particular approach to class analysis, beyond emphasising the need for an open analysis of the complexity of class which takes account of gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity and the particular context. From that atheoretical (or at least non-structural) starting point I was not sure what “class” meant or was grounded in.
The first chapters designed to “situate class analysis” within the specifics of Australian experience were vague and disconnected – one leaping from Poulantzas to the class contradiction of one working class man’s love of classical music, while another described property relations in settler colonial society, but appearing fairly dated in its sources. The most theoretical of the chapters in this section set out its key definitions and assumptions, and adopted a categorisation of class based on income from paid work for owners (employers and petty bourgeoisie) and labour distinguished by control of operational skills and managerial rights (expert managers, managers, experts, workers). There was data on the numbers of people in each of these classes, and some discussion of the interplay of income, assets and culture. IMHO, it was a too dismissive of housing as a class asset (for reasons discussed here), but in any case, the chapter was too short to develop its key themes and, in an edited collection, this framework did not necessarily apply to other chapters.
Race/Aboriginality
Beyond the early chapter on settler colonial society, there were various references to race and the experience of Aboriginal people, but few were developed. For instance, in the concluding interview, Raewyn Connell contrasts Australian colonialism with South African settler society in that:
“Except in the pastoral industry and especially in Northern Australia, colonialism in Australia did not subject the Indigenous population as a labour force … That produced a different pattern of racism in Australia which we still have elements of today – exclusionary rather than hierarchical.”
This struck me as in important entry point to understanding an intersection of class and race, but I wanted a more detailed analysis of how these geographic differences played out, and how the situation changed over time. In 2016, 51% of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander adults were employed. This was still well below the 76% of the non-Indigenous people, but it shows that the exclusion from employment/class is not total. So how are we to understand the class processes and differences for both Aboriginal employees and non-employees?
Similarly, the interview with Larissa Behrendt was a story of exclusion in highlighting the discrimination she has experienced in her career. While her story is inspirational, I was not sure what it says about class that is not simply captured by the notion of discrimination (with “class” being redundant).
Industrial Relations
For me, one of the most interesting chapters was an analysis by Tom Barnes and Jasmine Ali of an industrial dispute over retrenchments in a Woolworth’s warehouse in suburban Melbourne. The analysis adopted Erik Olin Wright’s multilevel synthesis of Marxian, Weberian and Durkheimian theory (which I considered in an earlier post) to show the divisions within the warehouse staff. Wright’s work in fact appeared several times in the book, but Barnes and Ali’s chapter was a great example outlining the (Weberian) distinctions between entitlements of full-time, casual and labour-hire workers and the (Durkheimian) situational differences within the formal and informal workplace culture and hierarchy. This was framed within a Marxian logic of the power of capital in deciding production location and warehouse closure.
In the end, the union got a good outcome (much improved redundancy and rights) based on identifying the unity of class interests against capital. While that may be good news, I would have liked to have known more about how those institutional and work-floor divisions were navigated – i.e. how class was mobilised. The article also said little about race or gender intersections, so while it was a good exposition of Wright’s methodology, it did not fully situate class in the current context.
Conclusion
There is not space here to comment on each chapter of Class in Australia, which was something of a smorgasbord (or at least a tasting tray) of class discussion. Suffice to say that the cultural studies chapters analysing an SBS documentary (Struggle Street) and rural romance novels failed to convince me of the generalisability or importance of the topic. And I did not read the chapters on class and education because …
Throughout the book (and somewhat in contradiction to Threadgold and Gerard’s statement cited above), I got no sense of one (or more) classes accumulating wealth and power from their class position or at the expense of other classes. There was a sense of inequality based on class and hierarchy between and within classes, but not really a sense of exploitation or of class processes as drivers of macro-economic structures or of social change or stability. Rather, (and perhaps because they generally reject a priori theory in favour of class forming in context) class appears as the wash-up of other economic and social processes. This is unsatisfactory both analytically and politically as it robs classes of agency.
There is much to say about class in Australia, and Threadgold and Gerard set out to raise rather than answer questions. But I would argue that the class processes and conflicts which determine (or at least influence) the distribution of income and wealth at the macro-level are more important than the musical tastes, and even the education levels or voting patterns, of the players in those processes. Ultimately, that is why I am drawn to political economy rather than sociology, even while acknowledging the importance of other analysis.
