The Cultural Capital of the World

In the conversations of the week that is passing, I have been forced to confront a specific truth that I have always shied away from. It's the fact that in some ways I possess (through little fault of my own) a whole lot of cultural capital of a certain kind. As various chthonians have suggested, this capital is something to be envied by others, and is possibly a source of provocation and inflammation.

In the last few months, I've had people come up to me and tell me why they remembered my work and my teaching. Quite often (where the memories are positive), their memories centre around the appropriate deployment of cultural capital, and/or the investment of that capital in young people so that they will gain interest from it. They mention the choice of words, the kind of language, the perspectives, the presentation of content, the devotionals, the ideas of the sacred and profane, and the way in which I seemed to see things differently from some people.

I am deeply grateful. Yet, as I mentioned before, I have always shied away from the fact of cultural capital. Somehow, it seems like an unfair advantage, and I have always favoured fair and open exchanges of ideas. The problem has sometimes been that cultural capital gives a person the power to speak as if from the seat of authority in a particular cultural environment, even if he does not intend to do so. For example, a person who has been identified with a certain cause (such as the advancement of African-American rights) might not be descended from African-Americans, and yet speak with such authority that people will listen to and take to heart whatever is said on the topic.

If you are envious of such capital, then three solutions are most obvious.

1. Eliminate the person. If you can dispose of the holder of the cultural capital, this renders the effect of such capital moot.
2. Eliminate the culture. If you can somehow dispose of the tangible and intangible structures that give this capital its value, then the capital is devalued.
3. Gain cultural capital of your own. For various reasons, this is very difficult. As Bourdieu says, you have to inherit it, buy artifacts that represent it, or gain certification or institutional approval that symbolises it. Sometimes, you may have negative cultural capital (such as having been a disciple of Hitler) that disqualifies you no matter what you do.

Obviously, these solutions are very risky. Failure to succeed will lead to successful failure. There is, however, one option that is not so obvious. You can borrow cultural capital by close positive association with those who have it. You can attempt to understand where it's coming from, and why you haven't been to that place. You can be culturally humble; if you feel humiliated, then this course of action is not for you. Eventually, assiduous devotion to the source of capital will gain you some.

This last option is seldom embarked upon. Anyone powerful enough to want to resist or channel cultural capital is unlikely to be a humble person. But in the end, as Kipling wrote in Recessional, 'an humble and a contrite heart' may be the source of our salvation. Such thoughts have ever been close to my own heart.

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Note: Kipling's line is of course not his own; some will recall its origin in the Book — for example in Isaiah 57 and in Psalm 51.