Abstract
This article is concerned with use of the notion of social capital in research into the position and experience of migrants, in particular with regard to the question of inequalities. I start by outlining some key perspectives and debates in the literature on social capital, and argue in favour of Bourdieu’s conceptualization. Here, what defines economic, social, cultural and symbolic resources as ‘capital’, in particular, essentially lies in their convertibility into other resources with the effect of securing advantage or overcoming disadvantage. I then go on to illustrate the argument by drawing on a number of biographical interviews with refugees in Sweden – looking first at the functions played by co-ethnic networks in their accounts, and supporting the argument that many of those functions are not usefully conceptualized in terms of social capital. Second, I suggest that if we are concerned to apply Bourdieu’s conceptualization of social capital to make sense of the position and experience of migrants generally and with regard to inequalities particularly, we need to look beyond intra-ethnic/migrant networks and consider how these are situated in a wider social context and in relation to other social networks. Here, I look at the extent to which my interviewees have emphasized the importance of links to the majority population, and consider the obstacles they have encountered in creating such links. Finally, I highlight that the emphasis Bourdieu puts on power and resource differentials in defining social networks and resources in terms of ‘capital’ also remains important when considering minority–majority relations.
Introduction
Recent contributions to the literature on social capital have highlighted problems regarding the common conflation of social capital in particular with social networks and resources in general (Anthias, 2007; Pietersee, 2003; Portes, 1998; Ryan et al., 2008), and, in relation to this, Bourdieu’s conceptualization of social capital is often presented as an alternative. In Bourdieu’s (1986) conceptual model, what defines social, cultural and symbolic resources as ‘capital’, in particular, essentially lies in their convertibility into other resources with the effect of securing advantage or overcoming disadvantage (the economic being central).
This article is concerned with the use of the notion of social capital in research on migrants, in particular with regard to the question of inequalities. I start by outlining some key perspectives and debates in the literature on social capital and argue in favour of Bourdieu’s approach. I then go on to illustrate the argument by drawing on a number of biographical interviews with refugees in Malmö, Sweden. First, I look at the functions played by co-ethnic networks, supporting the suggestion that many of those functions are not usefully conceptualized in terms of social capital. Second, I propose that if we are concerned to apply Bourdieu’s conceptualization of social capital to make sense of the position and experience of migrants, we need to look beyond intra-ethnic/migrant networks, consider how these are situated in a wider social context, and explore obstacles for accessing valuable networks. Here, I look at problems migrants have recounted in making links with the majority population, and consider the implications for how they are positioned.
Essentially, the aim of the article is to explore the extent to which Bourdieu’s theory of social and other forms of capital, developed as a theory for making sense of social class reproduction, can help us make sense also of inequalities existing along ethnic lines. I argue that Bourdieu’s framework provides a useful alternative to other conceptualizations of social capital, by emphasizing, on the one hand, social hierarchies and power differentials among different resources/networks and, on the other, their exclusionary aspects. I suggest that the notion of cultural capital usefully captures some of the more subtle processes of inclusion and exclusion in/from different social networks.
I also emphasize that while going beyond co-ethnic networks is important, it is equally important here to reserve the concept of social capital for cases where networks and resources secure advantage or enable the overcoming of disadvantage. As such, the centrality of economic capital to Bourdieu’s conceptualization, which makes it ideal for understanding social class divisions, problematizes but does not negate its relevance for studying other divisions. Its relevance lies in the emphasis put on valuable social connections needed to gain or secure advantage, the exclusionary dimensions of different networks, and how differential access contributes to the re/production of social and economic hierarchies. However, there is no simple translation of concepts from class to ethnic divisions/inequalities and the two are intertwined (Anthias, 2001a, 2001b; Anthias and Yuval-Davis, 1992).
Researching inequalities and the (contested) notion of ‘social capital’
My interest in migrants’ social networks and the question of social capital in particular emerged out of a broader concern with social inequalities, migrants’ experiences of these, and ways in which they cope with or try to overcome inequalities. The notion of social capital became an important concept with which to engage because of the fact that much recent literature in the area has appealed to it as a way of making sense of the lives, experiences and strategies of migrants, but also because it has become a way in which policymakers are proposing to solve inequalities in relation to migrants and beyond.
In regard to the popularity of the concept of social capital in policy circles, the work of Putnam (1995, 2000) has been particularly influential. Putnam argues that there is a strong correlation between levels of civic engagement, on the one hand, and democracy, social stability and prosperity, on the other. Putnam is concerned with society as a whole, as well as with particular groups and ‘communities’, and it is in particular regarding the latter that policymakers concerned with disadvantaged social groups appear to have found a convenient solution to a difficult problem. By emphasizing, on a general level, the fact that ‘social networks have value’ (Putnam, 2007: 137), it is proposed that groups and individuals can escape disadvantage by drawing on the resources they can access through the social networks they are connected to: which is arguably where the capital aspect of the concept comes in. However, other contributions to the literature on social capital have been critical of the tendency to speak of social resources and connections in general in terms of capital’ (e.g. Anthias, 2007; Pietersee, 2003; Portes, 1998; Ryan et al., 2008).
Bourdieu’s conceptualization of social capital is often presented as an alternative, and it emerged out of his concern to build a culture-rich understanding of social class reproduction. He did this by adding a number of further capitals to that of economic capital, and he argued that social class divisions are reproduced not only through the transmission of economic resources, but also through a number of other resources which help solidify class divisions over time (Bourdieu, 1986; Bourdieu and Wacquant, 1992). So notions of social, cultural and symbolic capital are introduced into the social class story, and the core argument is that it is not just about how much money you have, but your friends and networks and the resources they give you access to (social capital), your education, cultural knowledge, tastes and ways of interacting with people (cultural capital), as well as how you present your position and status to the outside world (symbolic capital). And one of the ways in which a resource comes to be defined as capital is through its convertibility to other resources or forms of capital. In short, for Bourdieu, social capital refers to resources linked to durable social networks to which some individuals have access and others not. This means that questions of membership, processes of inclusion and exclusion and social closure are key (for further sociological accounts of the role of social closure for the reproduction of group boundaries and inequalities, see Tilly, 1997; Weber, 1978).
In this definition, sociability itself does not constitute social capital, but the nature of the networks and the resources they hold and/or provide access to is what determines whether or not they qualify as capital. As such, Bourdieu’s version puts emphasis on power and resource differentials, something that is missing in the work of Putnam. We see a similar shortcoming in the work of Coleman (1988) – another key reference point in the social capital literature – who suggests that the social capital provided by parents and the communities in which they are embedded provides a key role in the ‘creation of human capital’ of individuals. It does so through the provision of a closed, dense network of relations within which norms and relations of trust and reciprocity are reproduced. While the emphasis Coleman puts on social closure is important, his failure to situate the discussion in the context of social hierarchies limits his approach (e.g. Silva and Edwards 2004, and for a discussion about the differential value of different networks, see also Granovetter, 1985; Lin, 2000). Another limitation concerns his tendency to idealize family and community relations, a problem shared with Putnam (Bruegel, 2005; Edwards et al., 2003; Leonard, 2004).
As just noted, Bourdieu’s conceptualization also highlights the exclusionary aspects of social networks. This point is crucial when it comes to migrant and minority ethnic groups, and one important issue here concerns the role played by ‘othering’ practices, racialization and discrimination. As has been argued elsewhere, these might all block the ability of certain groups and individuals to mobilize their resources to gain advantage (see Anthias and Cederberg, 2009; Erel, 2010; Shah, 2007; Shah et al., 2010), but they may of course also block their ability to access certain resources in the first place. In short, ‘othering’ practices and racialization imply that (certain) migrant and minority ethnic groups are excluded from different networks and the related resources. Furthermore, the fact that valued characteristics are perceived as embodied in particular social identities implies the exclusion of those who do not (appear to) conform (Puwar, 2001, 2004).
However, one of the things that is useful about Bourdieu’s theory is that it enables us to go beyond more or less overt ‘othering’ practices and consider the subtleties of processes of inclusion and exclusion in relation to which underlying features of difference and sameness are present, but not necessarily explicitly so. While he makes a distinction between cultural and social capital, Bourdieu emphasizes that the two are closely interconnected, and cultural capital is central to how social class divisions are reproduced through subtle codes of behaviour required for both access and success of individuals in particular social settings (Bourdieu, 1984, 1992). 1 In other words, Bourdieu suggests that the bases for trust and reciprocity within specific networks that are discussed in the social capital literature are culturally specific. In his work, different class cultures are emphasized, and here I would emphasize their ethnic/national dimensions.
There are obvious links here to the literature on whiteness, which interrogates the particularities of a dominant, white, Western culture that claims universalism and regards ethnic particularities as the property of minority ‘others’ (e.g. Dyer, 1997; Frankenberg, 1997). Through such claims, the exclusionary mechanisms operating within the (white, Western) in-group on the basis of (ethnic) sameness/otherness are denied, and in turn the extent to which people live up to the norm comes to be seen not in terms of cultural background, but in terms of capacities and competencies, whereby the (unequal) distribution of resources is justified (see Puwar, 2001, 2004 on a ‘somatic norm’ regulating access and reproducing hierarchies in certain social spaces).
One implication of the argument that things qualify as capital only if they function to achieve/secure advantage (or overcome disadvantage) is that capital is not fixed, but context-dependent (Anthias, 2007; Anthias and Cederberg, 2009). Hence, what constitutes capital in one place, at one point in time, and for one person, does not necessarily do the same in a different place, etc. (Kelly and Lusis, 2006). Another feature of Bourdieu’s conceptualization concerns the relational nature of different forms of capital. This is something that has arguably been downplayed in the migration literature, as emphasized by Raghuram et al. (2010), who argue that an exclusive focus on migrant networks limits our understanding of the processes at play in producing particular labour market outcomes for migrants. They emphasize the role played by non-migrant/ethnic networks in both pre- and post-migration contexts, and thus situate the functionings of different networks in a wider social context while considering the relations between them.
In what follows, I do two things. The first is to explore some of the functions played by ethnic networks in the lives of migrants, addressing the question of which of these could appropriately be conceptualized in terms of social capital. The second is to move beyond migrant/ethnic networks and consider, on the one hand, how those are situated in a wider social context, and, on the other, how social networks that hold valuable resources maintain their boundaries. Here, I consider migrants’ accounts of the importance of accessing majority networks as well as the obstacles they have encountered.
The empirical material drawn on consists of a small number of biographical interviews with refugees in Sweden, from Bosnia, Somalia and Iraq. The interviews with Bosnian and Somali refugees were done as part of my doctoral research project on racism and ethnic discrimination in Sweden (Cederberg, 2006), while the interviews with Iraqi refugee women were done as part of the Swedish component of the research project FeMiPol concerned with the integration process of female migrants in different European countries (funded by the EU through the 6th Framework, see Kontos, 2009).
Before I go onto discuss those interviews, a note on the national and local context is needed. First of all, Sweden’s history of immigration since the early 1970s has been dominated by refugee and family migration from different parts of the world (prior to that, labour immigration from other Nordic countries as well as Eastern and Southern Europe was the main influx). Second, at the same time as the nature of migration inflows changed, significant transformations of the Swedish labour market also took place: from industrial to post-industrial and a growth of the service sector. This has meant that higher educational levels, Swedish language skills and communication and inter-personal skills have gained importance, and in turn this has impacted on the labour market integration and position of migrants (Bevelander, 1999, 2005).
Third, there have been changes in regard to the broader political–economic context. Here, the long-term dominance of a traditional ‘Swedish model’ of social democracy since the mid-1980s has been re-shaped in line with both European and global political trends (towards a liberal market economy and welfare cutbacks; see Schierup et al., 2006). Following on from that, yet another contextual factor concerns the economic crisis of the early 1990s, during which most of my interviewees arrived. While affecting the country as a whole, the crisis impacted particularly on already disadvantaged groups, including the migrant and ethnic minority population, and, furthermore, recent arrivals found it particularly difficult to enter the labour market (Knocke, 2000; Schierup et al., 2006). 2
The interviews were done in Malmö, a city located in the south of Sweden. With just under 300,000 inhabitants, it is the country’s third largest city, and with around 30 per cent of the population being born abroad the most immigrant-dense city in Sweden. Malmö was formerly an industrial centre, and in the post-industrial phase it has struggled with high levels of unemployment. Furthermore, a pronounced ethnic segregation characterizes the city (one particular area – Rosengård – is often used as an example to highlight the extent of this segregation). Although more recently the city has seen a revival, it remains one of the most difficult places in the country for refugees to find employment (Bevelander and Lundh, 2007).
The article draws on 14 biographical interviews. All of those interviewed had been in Sweden between eight and fourteen years at the time of the interview (most of them eleven). All but one had secondary school equivalent education at the time of arrival in Sweden, and four had higher education qualifications. Three had acquired higher education qualifications in Sweden (or were about to do so at the point of the interview). All interviewees were between the ages of early 30s to early 50s. Seven were Bosnian (4 male, 3 female), 4 Somali (2 male, 2 female) and 3 Iraqi (all female). All Bosnians and Somalis arrived in Sweden in the late 1980s to early 1990s and the Iraqis in the mid to late 1990s. The small size of the sample means that the interview results reported here cannot be generalized, and the aim is not to present research findings, but to provide some empirical examples to help illustrate the theoretical points made.
The functions and limits of migrant/ethnic networks
Co-ethnic networks play a number of different functions for refugees and other migrants in regard to the process of settlement and integration within the receiving country (Ryan et al., 2008; Williams, 2006). In terms of the functions spoken of in my interviews, these include providing practical and emotional support, giving access to social information, providing a sense of community and security as well as an opportunity to reproduce one’s linguistic and cultural heritage, and facilitating access to further networks and opportunities, including some employment opportunities. For instance, Zlatko (Bosnian) got his first job in the Bosnian youth association, Fowsia (Somali) found a temporary job cleaning and baby-sitting at the local Somali organization, while Leyla (Somali) worked as a mother-tongue teacher.
In this context, it is worth noting the central importance given to ethnic networks in Swedish policies on migrant incorporation, specifically through migrant associations (Borevi, 2002, 2004). While ideas about what migrant associations should be doing have shifted over time, they retain an important role. Among other things, they are regarded as important ‘bridges’ for newcomers, the idea being that newcomers can benefit from the knowledge and contacts held by fellow countrymen already living Sweden.
However, as elsewhere in Europe, increasing concerns have been raised about the isolating effects co-ethnic engagement may entail, which in Swedish policymaking is reflected in a broader shift, from group rights to individual responsibility, and from promoting minority culture to facilitating ‘integration’. Such concerns have to some extent been echoed in my interviews by migrants reflecting upon the ethnic boundary-making that forms part of the process whereby co-ethnic networks reproduce, and what this implies in terms of prospects for trans-ethnic engagement, and, more specifically, incorporation within the mainstream labour market and society. By promoting those associations … you have created a situation where people close themselves in. It’s not that people really use their culture to enrich themselves, and get into the Swedish society, but almost the other way around. You make the longing for the home country such a life style, that you almost build up anus-and-them situation. (Naser, Bosnian)
Furthermore, several interviewees have questioned the often assumed commonalities and sense of community existing within migrant groups by highlighting differences, as well as the importance for them of connecting with people with whom they share things other than ethnic/national background. Naser, for instance, highlights cultural differences between Bosnians who came to Sweden as refugees during the 1990s and those who migrated for work in the 1960s and 1970s. More generally, Aida (Bosnian) criticizes the idea that migrants seek out co-nationals/ethnics by saying: For me it doesn’t make any difference. We had people from our country in the same area where we lived for four, five years. But more than ‘hello’ I haven’t talked to them. And they have not taken any initiatives either … But it’s different experiences, some people and some cultures may perhaps be more pulled together, and sometimes this can be because of experiencing difficulties. [A]nd then after SFI [the Swedish for Immigrants language course] there is nothing, no jobs … and then people get stuck in that situation, and get stuck in their networks. But that’s also important, about that network, people survive through it’
Other critical accounts point to the fact that dense relations of trust and reciprocity are also riddled with relations of power, control and internal hierarchies (Bruegel, 2005; Edwards, 2004; Lister, 2005; Portes, 1998). Such power and control is not least gendered, which we clearly see through accounts of the difficult aspects of dense ethnic networks reported by women in particular (Anthias and Cederberg, 2009; Shah, 2007; Zontini, 2010). One example of this from my interviews comes from the account of Safia (Iraqi), who recounts experiences of gendered violence within her family, as well as pressures to conform to a particular (feminine) identity from the wider ethnic community. Such experiences have made her reluctant to engage with people from her ethnic group to the extent that she lies about her background to avoid being associated with or pressured by other Iraqis in Sweden.
Another aspect of the downside to co-ethnic engagement, which in particular concerns groups that display a significant disadvantage in the labour market and wider society, is what Portes and Landholt (1996) have referred to as ‘downwards levelling norms’ (see also Portes, 1998). The idea here is that engagement in certain networks, rather than facilitating advantage, may function to hold individuals back, not only through lack of valuable social contacts, but also through lack of encouragement and social knowledge (see also Leonard, 2004; Shah et al., 2010). One example of this comes from the story of another Iraqi woman, Nina, who talks a lot about the difficulties she encountered in trying to find out about things after her arrival in Sweden. She highlights the importance of informal networks in providing information, while suggesting that the ethnic networks to which she had access did not act as helpful ‘bridges’ into Swedish society. Concerning her local ethnic association, Nina says that she does not participate much, on the one hand because she does not share much with other members, and, on the other, as she has other priorities, such as resuming her professional career. Implicit here is that the available co-ethnic networks will not be of use in relation to those pursuits. Furthermore, Nina recounts finding little understanding from others in regards to her career ambitions, and says that some Iraqi women have even attempted to discourage her from pursuing them.
What I have pointed out so far is that migrant networks fill important functions, not least by providing support and some opportunities for people experiencing exclusion from various aspects of majority society. At the same time, the dense networks of ‘trust’ and ‘reciprocity’ emphasized as valuable by Putnam and Coleman also contain less positive aspects, such as control. Furthermore, I have highlighted the fact that although they have important functions, their value as social capital is less certain if we adopt Bourdieu’s conceptualization.
I now move on to a different side of the story of social networks and social capital, and look at migrants’ experiences of trying to make links to individuals and groups in majority society. In Putnam’s (2000) terminology, this would entail a shift from looking at ‘bonding’ forms of social capital (existing between those who are similar to one another, e.g. within an ethnic group), to looking at ‘bridging’ forms of social capital (between different groupings, e.g. crossing ethnic boundaries). Putnam suggests that the latter is more important for ‘getting ahead’ in society, while the former may suffice for ‘getting by’. While this distinction usefully highlights differences in the roles different networks play, it is problematic on a number of counts.
Beyond migrant networks: Social hierarchies, social closure and the interplay of social and cultural capital
Many of the migrants I interviewed emphasized the importance of making links with people outside their ethnic communities, and in particular the majority population. In terms of the advantages they spoke of in regard to making such links, these ranged from retrieving social information often difficult to get from both authorities and co-ethnic networks, to accessing valuable resources in terms of employment opportunities, and to developing a sense of belonging in Sweden. However, while most emphasized the importance of such connections, they also reported difficulties in making them, and this features as a key obstacle in some accounts. For instance, Naser (Bosnian) makes a strong argument for the importance of valuable social networks: The bit that is missing for most of us [is] that social network, that is actually our greatest handicap … this is an important difference, and something that is really needed. It’s a problem that is mirrored in relations between immigrants and Swedes, in the migrants’ situation, in this whole thing about integration and so on: when you don’t have access to a social network that works, then you have to create your own [network], and then you also close yourself in, and we get this sort of situation, where you have to do what is needed. And then we are not talking about integration, we’re talking about survival. Me, I only socialise with Somalis. I don’t have a Swedish friend … I do have Swedish colleagues, and sometimes call and talk to them and so on, when we work, but friends, no … that’s just how it turned out. I didn’t decide not to have any Swedish friends, and I haven’t decided just to have Somali friends. (Ghedi, Somali) I mainly socialise with other Bosnians. With Swedes, except for at work, not so much contact. It’s work, but not that we socialise. (Emir, Bosnian) What is very uncomfortable and very sad … is lack of interest. If you don’t see me and I’m present, that is the worst thing, I think. And then we have much of this carefulness, you are careful and don’t want to make yourself look stupid and so on, then you can even do more harm, so that the receiver doesn’t think that there is any interest in me at all. People ask ‘how was it in Bosnia and so on, can I ask questions?’ It’s better to ask questions and be curious … Instead of not showing any interest … I find that such a shame – no contact, no interest, no question, no nothing … which is very difficult, that you are robbed of your human worth somehow. You’re not recognised. And I think that happens to people with other [ethnic] background very much. In Rosengård you don’t see Swedish families … Outside Rosengård, and at the outskirts of Rosengård, there is, but for instance … in the centre, there are no Swedish families. (Ghedi, Somali) Yes, Rosengård is nationally famous, unfortunately. There are so many people in Rosengård who do not dare get the bus into the city centre, and who have everything they need in Rosengård. And then we have a parallel world that exists not just at Rosengård, not just in Malmö, but in the whole of Sweden. (Naser, Bosnian)
At the time of the interview, Aida worked for the municipality on a project aiming to increase diversity in the workplace. Before she came to Sweden, she worked as a financial advisor specialising in tourism. In Sweden, she struggled to get recognition for her qualifications and experience. Aida found the downwards mobility she experienced difficult to deal with, and expresses frustration over the fact that she had to ‘start from scratch’ in Sweden: Because I have had a paradise life before I became a refugee – it’s a fairytale life I’ve had, I think. So it’s a very heavy burden to be robbed of that part of life … [when migrating to Sweden] I thought I had just moved myself geographically. But it was actually a very long journey: it was a class journey, and a shocking experience also. From one day when you have your social network to the next, when you move closer and closer to exclusion.
In spite of having a higher education degree and years of work experience, she first had to get a basic school certificate, then upper secondary school leaving certificate, and then study for another university degree, after which she finally found employment she finds satisfying (although it is worth noting that the job is not permanent).
Naser worked as a journalist for several years before coming to Sweden. Like Aida, he expresses frustration over the fact that he has not been able to get into his previous career in Sweden. He felt badly received by the professional association he contacted, an association that did not seem interested in helping him find a job. Failing to get a job, he started applying for courses in both journalism and political science, but always received the reply that there would be no point, as he was already fully qualified: ‘and I have translated, reassessed my old diplomas and so on, so that’s not the problem’. At the time of the interview, Naser was employed as part of a labour market measure (an environmental project for the municipality), which was due to finish at the end of the year.
It has been argued that personal contacts and social networks have become increasingly important for gaining employment in Sweden (Bevelander, 1999, 2005), and recent research has explored the role of informal contacts and networks in relation to the employment entry and position of migrants (Behtoui, 2008; Behtoui and Neergaard, 2010). Although the Swedish labour market remains more formalized than many others, Behtoui (2008) argues that informal routes to employment are nonetheless important. Furthermore, he shows that informal routes (through networks and contacts) are used more and have proved more valuable for members of the native population than for foreign-born people (especially those from non-Western countries). In part, the latter is explained with reference to different kinds and levels of resources held by different networks, and, as such, Behtoui (2008) highlights power and resource differentials as crucial (Bourdieu, 1986; Granovetter, 1985; Lin, 2000). Furthermore, he emphasizes the particularistic (and exclusionary) nature of the social networks that can be used to gain employment advantage for some (see also Raghuram et al., 2010). 3
This brings us back to the question of the ways in which networks maintain their (ethnic) boundaries, and this is also something that was discussed by my interviewees. For instance, Selma speaks about a ‘Sweden specific competence’ that she feels acts as an obstacle for her: You talk a lot about the importance of this social competence … But social competence here is something different. It’s that you are Swedish, that you speak without an accent – people get really fed up with that accent, and if you want to, you can understand, but if you don’t, there are misunderstandings … So maybe I am still lacking in the nuances of the language, I lack that Sweden specific competence.
One of my key informants, who worked with integration issues for the municipality, and who was also a relatively recent refugee (from Albania) argues that in order to get somewhere in Sweden she ‘has to be very Swedish’: ‘think Swedish’ and ‘act Swedish’. She is very critical of claims for ‘diversity’ in Sweden, and suggests that social spaces are ‘diverse’ only to the extent that the people who occupy them conform to ‘Swedishness’ (Puwar, 2001). This is also reflected in the literature on the labour market integration of migrants in Sweden, in which a ‘Swedish-specific’ competence has been emphasized as increasingly important (e.g. Bevelander, 1999; Bevelander and Lundh, 2007). I would argue that such features could be conceptualized through Bourdieu's (embodied) cultural capital notion, through which we can capture some of the (often subtle) ways in which particular (cultural) characteristics determine both access and success of individuals in different social settings (see also Erel (2010) on a ‘national capital’ impacting on the employment opportunities of migrants).
Coming back to the question of social capital, I would like to make a final point regarding the application of Bourdieu’s conceptualization on the position of migrants and, more broadly, inequalities existing along ethnic lines, which relates to the argument about the importance of avoiding speaking about social connections and resources in general as capital per se. As noted earlier, much of the social capital literature makes a distinction between bonding and bridging forms of social capital, and while acknowledging some value in making such a distinction, insofar as it helps to highlight different functions of social networks, 4 it is problematic on a number of counts.
One problem with the bonding/bridging distinction is that it appears to rest on homogenous and bounded conceptions of different social groupings. This is not just problematic because of the essentialist implications, but also because it fails to attend to internal conflicts and hierarchies, and, more generally, intra-group differences (Anthias, 2007; Anthias and Cederberg, 2009; Bruegel, 2005). Following on from that, yet another problem with the bounded conception of different groups that lies at the heart of the bonding/bridging distinction is the fact that it fails to fully engage with the complexity of structures and processes of disadvantage (Bruegel, 2005; Raghuram et al., 2010). Similarly to the problems discussed previously regarding lack of attention to the differential value of different networks, the emphasis put on ‘bridging’ social capital (in general) for ‘getting ahead’ fails to distinguish between different kinds and levels of resources held by different members of the ‘other’ community (with which one is ‘bridging’, in the present case, the majority ethnic community).
While ethnic divisions are to some extent reflected in broader class structures, the former cannot be reduced to the latter, as there are class differences within both ethnic minority and majority groups, and ethnic differences within social classes (Anthias and Yuval-Davis, 1992). Furthermore, as Anthias has argued, class and ethnic processes intersect in numerous ways, and both forms of division include material as well as symbolic aspects (Anthias, 2001b). As such, they are usefully conceptualized through a stratification model that integrates ethnicity (as well as gender) and hence pays attention to how different social processes and divisions intersect to either reinforce or contradict one another (see Anthias, 2001a, 2001b). Also, if one argument pertains to the blurred boundaries that follow on from the multiple/intersecting positioning of individuals (ethnic, racialized, classed, gendered, etc.), another concerns the fact that positions and boundaries shift over time (Anthias, 2001b, and in regard to migrants and networks, see Ryan et al., 2008; Raghuram et al., 2010).
Concluding remarks
The broad aim of this article has been to consider the usefulness of the notion of social capital for making sense of the position and experience of migrants in regard to questions of inequality in particular. While outlining some of the broader debates on social capital, I have focused on Bourdieu’s approach, which is designed to make sense of social class reproduction. Drawing on biographical interviews with refugees in Sweden, I looked at their accounts of both co-ethnic and non-ethnic networks. The joint exploration of those two areas was intended to help emphasize my argument that if we are concerned to use Bourdieu’s theory of social capital in making sense of the position of migrants, we need to not limit ourselves to exploring what is there or not there within migrant/ethnic networks, but consider how these are positioned in a wider social context. This means looking at a range of social networks and the advantage they bring to their members, and how they close off access to non-members, both through lack of social interaction over ethnic boundaries, but also through mechanisms of similarity/difference that in both direct and more subtle ways determine who is included in and excluded from different social groups and settings.
Additionally, despite structural divisions between ethnic majority and minority populations (to some extent reflected in class divisions), access to majority social networks cannot be regarded as generally beneficial, and as such no simple conclusion can be drawn regarding the capital value of majority networks/connections for migrants. This implies a critique of the bonding/bridging distinction, which comes across as simplified due to its group-based assumptions. In order to determine whether the social connections migrants hold with members of the majority population ‘count’ as social capital, we need to examine the details of those connections, and emphasize the intersection between class and ethnicity/migrant status (while noting that class in relation to migration is in itself complex, e.g. Kelly and Lusis, 2006; Erel, 2010). As such, my argument is not for a wholesale transference of Bourdieu’s ‘forms of capital’ model into the area of ethnic divisions/inequalities, or indeed for a replacement of other concepts used to understand them (racism, racialization, discrimination, segregation, etc.). Rather, I am arguing for the addition of Bourdieu’s conceptualization of social and cultural capital to our repertoire when studying the different processes that function to disadvantage different migrant (and ethnic minority) groups.
Finally, I would like to come back to the specific context of my interview data to highlight some particularities while re-emphasizing part of my theoretical argument. I have suggested that due to the structural position of migrant/refugee communities in the receiving country, their functions and resources are not in the main usefully conceptualized in terms of social (or other forms of) capital (and indeed referring to them as such may detract from the importance of considering that structural position). At the same time, it is important to note that in certain contexts pre-existing migrant and/or minority ethnic communities may indeed provide good opportunities for newcomers. It is therefore important to consider the specificities of different contexts when transporting concepts across national boundaries. If the concept of social capital might be appropriately used in migration contexts where certain migrant and/or ethnic minority communities hold a stronger economic and socio-economic position (although it remains important to account for intra-group differences and the fact that not everyone has access to valued resources), it is less likely to be appropriate in contexts where such communities are in a structurally weaker position. While a detailed discussion is beyond the scope of this article, suffice it to state that the relatively recent immigration history of Sweden combined with the nature of that immigration implies a rather different context when compared to places with a longer (and different) history of immigration and successful ‘ethnic economies’.
Footnotes
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial or not-for-profit sectors.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Bryan Mabee and to the three anonymous reviewers for providing very helpful comments and suggestions. Earlier versions of this article were presented to the Social and Political Change Research Group at Oxford Brookes University (March 2010) and at the European Social Science History Conference (Ghent, April 2010), and I am grateful for all the feedback received on both occasions.
