Classism and Taste: an Argument

Taste's synonymity with Class, and what it means for us

Taste — the cultural preferences we have — is a quality which, once shaped, remains deeply ingrained in us. The clothes we wear, the movies we watch, the books we read, are all formed by our environment: the people around us growing up, our school friends, our family, or wherever it was that we spent the majority of our time. And it plays a seminal role in the choices we make now. You already know that there are groups around you with different perspectives, different jokes, that may just not be to your taste. 

This might seem obvious. No one is missing the hint, for instance, in the Tory Society Aikman’s Code. But these social differentiators, which are inherent in our everyday lives, are often a lot subtler. They live in the brands that some people recognise and the rest of us have never heard of, in the books that can seem impenetrable, or just irrelevant, which are required reading at certain schools. 

On the one hand, this in itself is harmless. It’s completely natural, especially at such a diverse university as St Andrews. With over 135 nationalities in its student body and more than 45% of students living outside of the UK, it’s to be expected that there are groups that naturally fall together based on something as innocent as the things they like. While university is a time for meeting new people, expanding ourselves, at the end of the day, we all crave familiarity. It's comforting to find people who think as you think, act as you act. 

There is, however, another side to this coin. It can become problematic when people choose who to befriend based solely on these social differentiators, excluding those who do not make the cut. How many times have you been stuck in a conversation where it feels like there’s an invisible rule book that everyone else seems to know, as if based on seemingly prejudged criteria, and you just can’t find stable footing? That is the problem with taste. These minute subconscious decisions shape our experience of the world before we’ve really had a chance to experience it. 

Pierre Bourdieu describes this phenomenon with the phrase “cultural capital.” He claims that education, intellect, our style of speech, and dress are not ‘personal,’ but a reflection of social class as well as a means of strategy and competition. Individuals and groups admire the ‘good taste’ of some while criticising the ‘bad taste’ of others. Bourdieu's argument is that this is weaponised by the upper classes, who are endowed with cultural capital not through natural talent but rather their early life and education, and as such they can set what is good taste for the rest of society. Taste doesn’t flow freely. Rather, it structures society, helping create barriers between social groups. 

It shocks me sometimes how St Andrews can be at once such a cosmopolitan university and indeed so stuck into seemingly predefined social sects. 

On the one hand, as an English student studying in the UK, I feel as if I’ve tripped through some rabbit hole into a glut of interesting, culturally diverse, inspiring people. On one night out, I’ll meet people from any number of places and learn about their experience of any number of things. 

On the other hand, if you take a look, a real look, at the groups you see walking down North Street (holding a delicious dirty chai — please don’t ban me), you’ll start to see that these groups are not all as diverse as they first appear. Despite the ostensible diversity in students, we are united in our division. 

Is there a problem with this? Can it be helped? You like who you like, surely. It’s just a question of taste.

Illustration from Wikimedia Commons