All the world's a stage: How Irish immigrants negotiated life in England in the 1950s/1960s using Goffman's theory of impression management

Holy Grail or Poisoned Chalice and everything in between: the quest for the authentic self (Selves)

Polonious' last and lingering words of advice in Hamlet to his son Laertes ‘To thine own self be true’ before Laertes boarded a ship to Paris is likely to resonate strongly with most but perhaps most obviously with those who feel their identity may become compromised in later life. The Aristotelian notion of the ‘authentic self' provided the foundation on which many critiques of identity (too numerous to include here) have been based. Today, from a sociological perspective, identity and by implication identity work, is fluid not to say chameleonic in nature, shifting in direct response to specific social situations. For Goffman, however, the crucial dimension of identity is the way in which it is performed. More specifically, it is how social norms in any given context shape these performances which is of interest to Goffman. Consequently, each representation of self is uniquely crafted to construct a situated identity relative to the both context and the audience’s expectations. Critically, Goffman contends that the externally presented identity may be enacted without fundamentally blighting our ‘authentic’ sense of self. Rather, during social interactions, people don a metaphorical ‘mask’ which enables them to assume multiple desired identities to foreground ‘our truer self, the self we would like to be’ (Goffman, 1959: 19). Other writers have since built on this premise by asserting that, in its sustained form, identity uses a complex series of both contrived and non-contrived behaviours which reflect the prevailing social, cultural and moral order (Carpenter et al., 2017; Lyons et al., 2017).

Self-build: (re) constructions of identity in social situations

The genesis of symbolic interactionism from which Goffman's work emanated is generally attributed to Herbert Blumer whose writings on social relations foregrounded how self-verification is facilitated by the meanings people assign to both their environments and their experiences in these environments (Blumer, 1969; Burke and Stets, 2009). According to Goffman (1997), individuals modify their behaviour, notably by engendering and sustaining multiple identities, to suit the protocols of co-mingling in specific social situations.Such situations are ‘people-processing encounters, encounters in which the “impression” subjects make during the interaction affects their life chances…By a sort of prearrangement, then social situations seem to be perfectly designed to provide us with evidence of a participant's various attributes - if only to vividly re-present what we already know’ (Goffman, 1997: 9). One of Goffman’s primary preoccupations is the way in which actors choreograph social interactions to create a concerted ‘impression’ (Goffman, ibid: 45). This compulsion arises because ‘once individuals - for whatever reason – come into each other’s presence, a fundamental condition of social life becomes enormously pronounced namely its promissory evidential character' (Goffman, 1997: 3). Interestingly, other commentators, notably Garfinkel (1952), Sacks (1992) and Schegloff (1968), favour the systematic analysis of retrospective and prospective human behaviours when exploring the sequential ordering of social interactions. Although Goffman and Garfinkel were both preoccupied with the sociology of everyday life, they differed in how they framed social interactions. Most fundamentally, while Garfinkel was known for his use of both ‘the game’ and ‘breaching experiments’ to examine how people interacted to define a given situation, Goffman’s primary focus was how social actors negotiated established social norms. Equally, unlike Saks and Schegoff, Goffman foregrounded the interaction order, a framework which allowed for the exploration of public accountability. Returning to the paper's focus, therefore, the specific characteristics importance of symbolic interactionism, notably impression management as advocated by Goffman (1997) forms the basis of the section which now follows.

All the world's a stage: the quest for the authentic self (selves)

Goffman uses the metaphorical stage to exemplify the repertoires of impression management people manifest in different social situations. According to Goffman, we use ‘impression management’ to modify our behaviour and actions in accordance with our given motives at any point in time. Just as identity is malleable, the metaphorical stage too is a flexible medium which shifts through space, place and time and through which identity is constructed frame by frame. Significantly, even those most accomplished at identity work may assert little control over audience interpretation of his/her performance. For Goffman (1997: 9), ‘front stage’ comprises three elements. These are: the ‘setting’ (the scene, props and decor); ‘personal front’ (aesthetic considerations including bodily modifications such as clothing and jewellery assert identity) and finally ‘manners’ which incorporate ‘sign vehicles’ such the voice, notably accent, and body language. Each of these three elements will be considered in turn below. This is followed by an exploration of Goffman’s characterisation of ‘backstage’ performances whereby the performer is free from the audience’s gaze and able to express his/her uninhibited selves.

Goffman contends that people's behaviour changes when confronted by a new environment, the so called ‘setting' (Goffman, 1963). Curiously, given that he conducted his doctoral research in Shetland's northernmost island Unst, Goffman had little to say on the importance of landscape in constructing identity. Other writers have since stepped into the breach. Probyn (1996) highlights how emotional attachment to people and place fosters a string sense of belonging. Agnew et al. (2011) note how memories of landscape become accentuated for estranged groups. Sensory memory plays a key role in recollections of place. For example, the merits of Proustian scholarship are important when recreating Irish immigrants' reconstructions of their formative experiences (Lahiri, 2011; Maye-Banbury and Casey, 2016; Wright, 2009). Goffman, however, favoured the physical delineation of the space in which we are located, notably its décor, the physical context in which it is located and any objects which communicate the nature of setting. As Bourdieu (1984: 479), contends ‘social identity lies in difference, and difference is asserted against what is closest, which represents the greatest threat’. For the incomer, cities represent complex contested spaces underpinned by an unchartered infrastructure. Lefebvre's invitation to (1996: 159) ‘multiply the readings of the city' gives new comers a mandate to critically explore their new urban spaces from a standpoint of ambivalence. Consequently, the yearning to become reunited with the rural landscape of both imagined and lived dolce domum gathers momentum.

Keeping up appearances: the role of props in communicating identity

Corporeal accessories are integral in the construction of our personal front, specifically when worn with the express intention of neutralising a spoiled identity (Goffman, 1963). Some may see clothes as prosaic. Yet what we wear does provide compelling representations of identity. Motives for using clothes as a means of self-presentation may include the desire to create a positive impression and/or to cover perceived bodily imperfections (Nezlek et al., 2019). Uniforms communicate the demarcation between those who are disciplined and those who control them (Craik, 2007). Other corporeal signifiers which externalise identity include jewellery, watches, sunglasses and T shirts, all of which send visual cues to the audience regarding distinct and selected aspects of identity as socially constructed (Brown, 2015; Butler, 1990; Niinimäki, 2010). However, an assessment of identity based purely on a cursory review of visual cues may prove ambiguous, i.e. the so-called ‘Rashomon’ effect. For example, a balaclava may be worn to protect the face from cold (such as under a motorcycle helmet) or to protect the wearer’s identity (in the case of a terrorist or criminal).

Sociocultural identity may also be expressed on a more sensuous level, for example through food and dance. In Goffmanesque terms (1959; 1967), sensory infused performances of ethnicity may be understood as ‘interaction rituals' and are therefore one way in which identity may be affirmed, refuted or negotiated.

‘Manners’, according to Goffman (1959), declare the part we intend to play. Manners form part of an overall impression by expression management strategy. We manage ‘impression by expression’ when persuading others to subscribe to our own point of view. But self-expression may also be managed for the audience’s own good. The expressions we give (facilitated primarily through contrived and verbal facial expression) and those we give off (things we may communicate inadvertently which belies our real selves) may result in incongruence between our words and what we were actually thinking or feeling. Goffman (Goffman, 1959) characterises the mechanisms we use to communicate these impressions as ‘sign vehicles.’ Sign vehicles transcend linguistic cues to include other multisensory prompts, notably body language and the visible objects (‘props’) used to reinforce the desired identity we wish to communicate. Goffman contends sign vehicles are deployed in three interrelated ways: to provide face to face confirmation of identity; to perform actions which transcend the information given in the interaction and to communicate an impression of ourselves within a prescribed social and moral order.

Significantly, first impressions are potent in shaping subsequent social encounters. More specifically, for Goffman ([1963] 1986: 5), first impressions hinge on the extent to which ‘they (people) have attributes which signal a less desirable kind.' By implication, therefore, the sociocultural identities we present to others may be a contrived pre-emptive strike to neutralise, confirm or contest cultural stereotypes. As Meleau-Ponty (1962) has noted, actors’ identities are enmeshed in a range of audiovisual cues including accent, facial expression and gestures. In relation to immigrants in their new host country, audible aural cultural cues are thus significant. Most notably, the ‘voice' may be construed as an aural manifestation of cultural, spatial and temporal identity. Indeed, the journey from thoughts to words is far from straightforward. For Bourdieu (1991: 508), language modification may take the form of both linguistic habitus and bodily hexis as workers service the capitalist project. In his original thesis, however, Goffman’s explicit references to cultural and political identities are limited. Indeed, one source suggests that Goffman’s thesis of impression management is so detached from humanity that his observational techniques are more reminiscent of bird watching techniques than the anthropological practices associated with observing people in situ (Burns, 1992).

It could be argued that every entrance is an exit and vice versa. When negotiating the world, we may enter situations through the backstage. But for Goffman, ‘backstage’ equates with a private realm where an audience is not present enabling people to revert to their less contrived selves, a space where ‘the performer can relax, he can drop his front, forgo speaking his lines, and step out of character' (Goffman, 1959: 115). It is puzzling, however, that Goffman has little to say about how our understanding of impression management may enhanced by exploring front stage/backstage through a metaphorical revolving door. To what extent is the transition from one to the other seamless? More specifically, how do people, negotiate the emotional and physical challenges that may come with the transition between front and backstage behaviours in everyday life?

All in the voice: vocal aesthetics and performances of self-identity

Everyone has an accent of one form or other. But, as ever, context is everything. Our manner of speaking may be construed as one of the social variables which belie our identity (Goffman, 1964). Attempts to change one’s accent confirm Schneider's proposition (1969, 1981) that impressions communicated by the voice may be modified, even staged, by third parties, to achieve individual and institutional gains. Poster’s (2007) study of vocal aesthetics revealed how employees in offshore Indian call centres were required to collude with ‘national identity management’ by imitating a British accent when dealing with customers. This form of linguistic discipline evokes Goffman’s (1963) contention that self-presentation may be modified in anticipation of the speaker being assigned a spoiled identity by his/her audience. Interpersonal communication, therefore, may be framed as culturally and historically specific. In the words of Hall (1990: 222), ‘we all write and speak from a particular place and time, from a history and a culture which is specific. What we say is always “in context.”’ ‘By contrast, on a micro level, by using “audience segregation,”’ (Goffman, 1959: 57) individuals contrive to ensure their self-presentation remains intact as they shift from one interaction to another without fundamentally altering the representation of self. This change in self may not necessarily be detrimental to the speaker. Simmel’s suggests that the Other may bring something positive to a social group, albeit that s/he may occupy an ambiguous position somewhere between wandering and fixation with that group (Wolff, 1950).

Ultimately, however, might all these visual and aural attempts to stifle manifestations of otherness be exercises in futility? For Bauman (1991: 56), at an abstract level, we may all be characterised as universal strangers who discombobulate the world as we ‘bring the “outside” “inside” and poison the comfort of order with the suspicion of chaos.’ Goffman’s work on symbolic interactionism, notably impression management, arguably offers a more tangible way of understanding identity. The Irish immigration experience will now be explored in detail using Goffman’s impression management thesis.

All change – the realities of scene switching from Ireland to England

On first arrival in England, interviewees reported a wide range of initial reactions to their new surroundings ranging from euphoria, ambivalence to trepidation. For some, ‘scene switching' from the harshness of subsistence farming in rural Ireland to the delights of England's urban centres was welcomed. Siobhán was captivated by her new environment, signalling the beginning of a love affair with England which would last a lifetime. Her emigration from Sligo to England in 1954 offered her the opportunity to leave behind manual labouring on the family farm, notably ‘saving’ (cutting and stacking) turf and harvesting potatoes. At that time, it was an accepted practice that those in rural Ireland (both men and women but mainly the former) would engage in seasonal work in England and Scotland, only returning to Ireland for short holidays. In their absence, the women assumed the dual role of farm labourer and childcare provider. ‘I loved it (England) from the day I set foot in England. Absolutely loved it. There was that much work left for me to do while he (her father) was away, if it was saving the hay or the turf up on the bog or picking potatoes. I did have to work really hard on the farm and when I got away from it and come back here and work in the factories. I thought it was a holiday.’

Like Siobhán, Mairéad's was initially enthused by her new English rural setting (a private boys boarding school in Yorkshire), the grandeur of which proved a far cry from the lack lustre landscape of Tullamore, the town in Co Offaly where she was born: ‘It was a private college. Huge grounds. Absolutely gorgeous.’ Mairéad emigrated to ‘the mainland' in 1954. She recruited by a company whose express purpose was to find young women (her self-reference as ‘some people like me’ accentuates her perceived Otherness and the class identity to which had self-assigned) to work as domestics at a renowned Catholic private boarding school for boys in North Yorkshire. The journey from Offaly to the boarding school was stage managed with precision by the recruitment company. Mairéad's account of how she came to live in England evokes Goffman's claim that impression management plays a critical role during the people processing encounters which ultimately influence life chances (Goffman, 1997). She recalled: ‘At up at the top of the street where I lived, this house was let out to these people who came from the college to get some people like me who didn’t have any work and wanted to go to England to get a job. So I put my name down. And within a week, I was on my way to England.’

Others, when faced with the realities of Irish immigrant life in the 1950s and 1960s in post-war urban Britain, yearned for both the beauty of the rural Irish landscape along and the family and friends they had left behind. The respondents' severance for the Irish landscape evoked Agnew et al.'s (2011) writings on the way in which, for many, immigration breaches the relationship between landscape and identity. Eimear, who had left Ireland in 1955 in search of new adventures, harboured a desire to be reunited with the Irish coast: ‘When I first came here, I hated it. But I thought, stick it out and see what happens. It’s no use looking back, is it? I miss Ireland, I miss the sea. I really miss the sea.’ Other respondents reported unfavourable initial impressions of the stage on which their new lives were to be enacted. The lack of recreational activities in the evening alongside the desire to be reunited with the Irish landscape stirred emotional responses from those interviewed. For Eileen, moving to Salford breached her sense of sociocultural identity, the genesis of which came from growing up on her family farm in Monaghan: ‘It’s lonely when you come here. It takes you a long time to get used to. I lived on a farm and I wasn’t used to being in the city’. Witnessing first-hand the offensive behaviour of his fellow lodgers on arrival in the Leicester boarding house did little to restore one interviewee's confidence in his new surroundings. Seamus, aged just 17 from Tandragee, was disgusted by the spectacle of seeing his fellow Irish men urinate in the sink of the bedroom of his digs: ‘They were using the sink to pee into to. Never seen anything like it. Poor as we are, you went out to the basin in the scullery. And you got the water out of the barrel outside the front door.’ Seamus fled the digs and spent several weeks sleeping rough in a public park frequented by sex workers before he secured a hostel place.

The importance of sensory memory in understanding the Irish immigration experience noted by Maye-Banbury and Casey (2016) helps us understand Bridie's account of her early years in Manchester. For Bridie, the term being separated her ‘home turf' held a particular poignancy. Other than the aroma of burning turf, fuel smells were anathema to Bridie. ‘I’d never even seen coal in my life. Horrible dirty stuff. Not like turf at home. I’d never smelt gas either and I was used to the well water, the water was foul.’ Similarly, Eimear’s first impression of her new adoptive city of Leicester was overwhelmingly negative. The city's lack of leisure activities compounded its aesthetic limitations: ‘Leicester was horrible. Everything closed down early. It was totally different to what I was used to. It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. No life.’

For others, a whimsical thirst for adventures fuelled by the exuberance of youth was the primary motive for emigrating from Ireland to England resulted in a demotion of stage positionality. Upon emigration from the working class district of the Liberties in Dublin to England in 1959, Áine's stage persona switched from centre front as a jewellery counter assistant in a well-known Dublin department store to work as a backstage cleaner in a Leicester psychiatric hospital. Her love of jewellery transcended her working environment.

I don’t know why I came here (to England). I had a good job (laughs). My husband’s parents lived here. I sort of drifted into it. There was no job problems. I worked in Switzers in the jewellery department. I love jewellery, anything that’s shiny and sparkly. Still do. But anyway, I was sort of young and I wanted to see something different.

Interestingly, coats served the dual role of communicating constraints (where badges and other emblems suggested a conferment of rights) and freedom (upon purchase as a mode of personal expression fashion choice). Just after her 16th birthday, Mairéad found herself on the boat from Dublin to Liverpool with girls aged 16 and 17 from Tullamore, Co Offaly. ‘They [the recruitment company] paid your fare over. They just put this little badge on your coat. Put you on the train. You went to Dublin.’ Crucially, however, when her income permitted, one of the first items of clothing Mairéad replaced was her coat as a vehicle through which she could assert her new identity: ‘I couldn’t wait to get a new coat. You would go into York the odd time and buy a coat for a pound. Now that was brilliant.’ Evoking Nezlek et al.'s (2019) spectrum of self-consciousness exemplified by clothing choice, those interviewed reported the value of dressing to impress. Clothes were also used to make that all important first impression, specifically in anticipation of neutralising a spoiled identity (Goffman, 1963). Eamonn reported how, following the advice of his friend Tom, he smartened up his appearance when seeking to secure accommodation in a Blackpool vicarage.

And I said to this fella Tom, I'm looking for some digs. And he said, ‘If you're going to come with me, you'll have to come in your best suit, collar and tie and your shoes polished. And that way, we'll get a good place’.

Some props worn by those interviewed epitomised the nuanced nature of impression management. Sunglasses are a case in point. Brown (2015) has argued that sunglasses carry connotations of modernity and ‘outsider cool'. Additionally, sunglasses enable the wearer to view the world literally through a lens whilst, at the same time, maintaining an illusion of anonymity. In Goffman (1963) parlance, they permit enough visual access to suggest engagement with fellow citizens whilst enabling the gazer to withdraw visual engagement when s/he sees fit. Based on a cursory glance, Charles’ newly acquired sunglasses were suggestive of a cosmopolitan lifestyle which epitomised, as Brown (2015) has observed, being ‘cool'. Yet Charles wore his new eyewear out of necessity following surgical intervention:

I had an eye operation and I was told to wear these dark glasses and this was a bit unique in them days, ‘cos everyone wears dark glasses now but at that time (1960s) nobody except real pop stars wore dark glasses. I felt great in them. I kept them on at night even when I went out.’

Word up: the voice as a means of communicating sociocultural identity

Significantly, in the case of first generation Irish immigrants in England, physical appearance belies sociocultural identity, an ambiguity which soon disappeared readily following an inaugural verbal interaction. Research has shown how a self-evident Irish accent may result in employment opportunities being restricted exclusively to what McGovern (2002: 95) describes as ‘an ethnically-specific niche in the labour market’. Crucially, in respect of the Irish in Britain, it appears that those who speak with accents associated with the Irish Republic trump their northern Irish counterparts both in respect of perceptions of prestige and pleasantness, specifically the latter (Levon et al., 2019). Research by Levon et al. published in November 2019 showed that Southern Irish accents were ranked 12th (out of 38) placing them above any regional non-standard British accents, Northern Irish accents, however, were ranked in a similar range (22nd) to British regional accents in respect of both attributes cited above placing these accents in the range occupied by British regional varieties (e.g. Cardiff, Nottingham, Norwich) but above both urban (Newcastle, Manchester) and ethnic (Afro-Caribbean, Indian) accents (12th). Those interviewed for this study reported an ambivalent relationship with their Irish accents. For example, Eimear adopted a number of tactics to be accepted in her new host country. Following her move to the ‘mainland', she shifted how she characterised her socio spatial identity from city (Dublin) to national (Ireland): ‘it was very strange when I came here first. People said to me “Where do you come from?” I always said “Dublin.” I never said “Ireland.” That’s strange, isn’t it? Now I say “I’m Irish”'. Eimear reported how, to be understood, she felt compelled to assume a new vocal aesthetic. ‘I had to change my accent. ‘Cos you had to. Otherwise people wouldn’t have known what you were talking about. And they’d say: “Where are you from?” Eimear's experience evokes the incongruity reported by those in the Poster (2007) study whereby acquiescence with directives to modify accent by employers signified a betrayal to one's own culture. Interestingly, some of the Irish immigrants’ stories revealed an innate desire to maintain their accent. Evoking Bourdieu's (1977) reflections on manifestations of cultural capital, Peter considered his accent to be an integral part of his Irish sociocultural identity: ‘I never lost my accent. Why should I? Any working class person man or woman would be proud of their roots. You don’t forget your roots and your feelings. That's the way I look at it anyway.’ At times, however, speaking with a discernible Northern Irish accent engendered rage amongst fellow Irish immigrants from the Republic. Seamus, from Co Armagh, experienced sectarianism on his first night in England spent in a Leicester boarding house:

And I’m lying there (in bed). And they said ‘Who are you?’ And I said ‘I’m from Northern Ireland’. And they said ‘You’re a bastard orange man’. And I said: ‘I’m not no orange man. And I’m not a bastard either’.

Names may be construed as a social variable which informs how our sociocultural identity is constructed by both ourselves and others (Goffman, 1964). Following emigration, the interviewees described how their Irish names were often mispronounced or replaced by the stereotypical ‘Paddy.’ Even Irish women were reportedly called ‘Paddy'. Eileen described the nature of her social interactions with colleagues when working as a domestic in a Manchester hospital: ‘They didn’t want to speak to you. And some of them who did speak to you were calling you “Paddy” all the time. “Are you alright, Paddy?” “How are you doing, Paddy?” For some of those interviewed, feeling part of the community in England took time. Dómhnall reported how he felt belittled by his fellow workers during his early years as a construction worker in Leicester: ‘They (the English) gave you the impression that they were giving you something and you were living in their country ‘cos they’d let you come in. It was that type of thing with them.’ The English had that snobby way of telling you “Oh, they're Irish”. You got that feeling. They didn't want to associate with you. You couldn't get on with them.’

Many of the Irish men and women interviewed found themselves challenging the spoiled identity others had preassigned to them. Stivers (2019) account of how the drunk Irish stereotype evolved over time helps to contextualise the interviewees' relationship with alcohol and, more specifically, how it shaped their everyday interactions with others. For many Irish immigrants, the consumption of alcohol simply was not as option due to lack of disposable income. Contrary to the stereotype, Padraig reported how the men with whom he shared digs would seldom frequent the pub due to lack of money:

There was a sitting room with a fire and a table where we had the meals and we'd be smoking, nobody would be having any money to go out for any beer cos they'd spent it all over the weekend but they sent it home to their parents, as I used to do.

Yer man said to me ‘I don’t, I don’t ever again want to see you for what you’ve done.’ I looked at him and I says ‘I’ve done nothing. What are you on about?’ ‘Well’, he says, ‘You’re like ‘em all’, he says, ‘You just pretend’.

Crucially, the research has also revealed instances whereby members of the Irish community were treated with respect and compassion by neighbours and colleagues alike. The financial and emotional support Seamus received from his work colleagues after his house was burgled two weeks before the birth of his first child forced him to reassess the negative views he had formed of his Coventry work colleagues: ‘Well, I got egg on my face alright. And I’m thinking “I’m the boy who didn’t like English.” These were brilliant people.'