Social standing has the least significance or attraction at the beginning or at the end of life. When one is young there are simply too many competing alternatives; and when one is old nothing matters except what already exists. Accordingly social standing is a mid-life crisis. I say crisis – not because social standing is for everyone a crisis – but because for those for whom it is a concern it can definitely become a project of enormous devotion, complication, legal consequence and financial determination.
What occurs immediately to me (that is, from my end of life perspective) is that social standing has little if anything to do with proving who you are. In fact paradoxically proving who you are seldom equates to social standing except in the good sense; namely, “you is what you is” (a commendation not always welcomed in spite of its blunt proclamation). By contrast, frequently the difficulties arising concerning social standing spring from a desire to improve oneself (whether real, imagined or pretended) and from the alliances or disruptions associated with amorous connections (once again, whether real, imagined or pretended). Social standing is all about appearances (including those not deliberately ostentatious and most certainly including those bordering on otherwise unacceptable inclinations). The binary quality of social connection is perhaps most famously illustrated by the Romeo and Juliet theme – the Montagues and the Capulets. The more crashing collision of the two is found in Snow White where love and social position compete with one another overtly. From those renditions follow numerous tales of conflict and blend of rich and poor, powerful and subservient, on and on.
Classic novels that explore social standing often delve into themes of class, status, and the impact of societal structures on individuals and relationships. Novels like Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and Great Expectations are prominent examples, each offering a unique perspective on the complexities of social hierarchy.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen:
This novel satirizes the social conventions of 19th-century England, particularly the emphasis on social class and marriage for financial security. Austen’s characters navigate a world where social standing is paramount, and her narrative highlights the limited options available to women in that era.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald:
Set in the Jazz Age, this novel explores themes of wealth, social mobility, and the American Dream, examining how wealth and social status can both attract and repel.
Gatsby’s relentless pursuit of wealth and status, despite his humble origins, reveals the superficiality and moral ambiguity of the Roaring Twenties.
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens:
This bildungsroman follows the protagonist Pip’s journey from a poor boy to a gentleman, showcasing the impact of social mobility and the pursuit of wealth on personal identity. Dickens’s portrayal of London’s social classes, from the impoverished to the aristocracy, provides a critical look at the social ills of the Victorian era.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee:
Set in the American South during the 1930s, this novel explores themes of racial prejudice, social injustice, and childhood innocence. While not solely focused on class, the novel portrays the rigid social hierarchy of the South, where class and race intersect to create a deeply divided society.
Judging by my personal experience social standing involves all these characteristics. The governing themes are not however limited to the often conflicting topics of money and marriage; instead, social status can at times acquire a legitimacy either from its presence or its absence. Much like the fool in Shakespearean drama, or the undercurrent example of Robin Hood or the competing authenticity between Prince Hal and Sir John Falstaff or the little boy on the side of the road announcing the king wears no clothes, the conformity to higher social prescriptions are relieving.
Having said that, I know people who have dedicated themselves to achievement of social standing – most frequently a standing that is associated with accumulation of money or what are customarily acknowledged as superior positions of government or control. Sometimes by juxtaposition the commitment to status shifts to alignment with what are considered peripheral social networks such as artistic communes or even notoriously wild and dangerous motorcycle gangs. But those latter connections are generally thought to be outside the realm of normal social standing. People involved in theatre – while often forming undeniable levels of popularity – nonetheless remain “theatre people”, a class onto themselves (in effect a carryover of the historic abhorrence of its bawdy and base allure). Generally speaking anything belonging to the strictly artistic or intellectual class succeeds to disentangle itself from the commonality of social standing which is after all adjoined to far more visceral and pragmatic elements.
Escaping one’s inherited social status is seldom easy. The lingering odour and ardour of one’s simmering ashes and native social correspondence afford an often treacherous and overwhelming obstacle to change. That, of course, is assuming one wishes to change. Not everyone does, either directly or vicariously. Indeed there are some who make a positive point of distinguishing themselves from what I’ve heard called “the citizens“ (not exactly certain wherein lay the slight). Meanwhile there are others so manifestly intent upon altering their social standing (to what they perceive to be an acceptable standard) that they virtually ruin themselves in doing so. I have witnessed a perfectly intelligent woman devote herself almost laboriously to preserving her intent of social standing; while on another occasion I witnessed a gentleman rudely accommodate himself for reasons purely subscribed to social standing. I myself have once succumbed to overlook morality for advancement of social standing. Not everyone however survives to tell the tale. As the saying goes, once commenced, it is a downhill tread.
In fairness it requires an element of strength to forego the benefit of social standing. Like it or not, social standing is very often a select and desirable club, the convenience of which affords a comfortable abstraction. The departure from the realm of social standing may also affect others for whom you may have more impartiality than for yourself. Entire families have been built upon social standing.
Hal’s version:
“The Mid-Life Project of Social Standing”
Social standing has the least significance—perhaps even the least attraction—at the beginning or the end of life. When one is young, there are simply too many competing alternatives; and when one is old, nothing matters except what already exists. Accordingly, social standing is a mid-life concern—if not always a crisis, certainly a project. I say “crisis” not because it is invariably so, but because for those to whom it matters, it often becomes a pursuit of enormous devotion, legal consequence, and financial determination.
What occurs immediately to me—from my end-of-life vantage—is that social standing has little, if anything, to do with proving who you are. In fact, paradoxically, proving who you are seldom equates to social standing—except in the rare, good sense: namely, “you is what you is.” (A commendation not always welcomed despite its blunt truth.) More often, social standing is about the desire to improve oneself—whether real, imagined, or performed. It is entangled with the alliances and ruptures of amorous connections, likewise real or illusory. Above all, social standing is about appearances—including those not overtly ostentatious, and especially those teetering on the unacceptable.
The binary nature of social distinction is famously captured in Romeo and Juliet—the Montagues and Capulets—but perhaps even more baldly in Snow White, where love and social position are locked in overt competition. From those examples flow endless tales of conflict and reconciliation—rich and poor, powerful and powerless, noble and common.
Classic novels exploring social standing delve into the pressures of class, status, and the grinding machinery of societal structure. Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and Great Expectations each dissect the constraints and temptations of hierarchy:
- Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudicesatirizes the social conventions of 19th-century England, particularly the necessity of marrying well to secure a respectable life. Her characters navigate a world where a woman’s worth is judged by whom she marries—often at the expense of her own intelligence or affection.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is set in the Jazz Age, where Gatsby’s obsessive pursuit of wealth and status lays bare the shallowness of the American Dream. His transformation from farm boy to millionaire doesn’t quite purchase him a seat at the old-money table.
- Charles Dickens’s Great Expectationsfollows Pip’s uneasy climb from blacksmith’s apprentice to gentleman, revealing that social mobility can come at the cost of authenticity and self-respect.
- Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, though more concerned with race than with class per se, illustrates the harsh lines of the Southern caste system. In this case, social standing is not only financial but racial—legally codified and violently enforced.
From my own experience, social standing manifests all these characteristics. But it is not confined to money and marriage. It can assume a strange legitimacy—either from its presence or its absence. Like the fool in Shakespeare, or Robin Hood in the forest, or even the child announcing that the emperor has no clothes, resistance to social conformity can carry its own kind of elevation.
Still, I have known people wholly committed to social ascendance. Most often that climb depends upon accumulation—wealth, connections, positions of control. Yet even rebellion can serve the same goal. Some seek alternative standing: artistic communes, anarchist enclaves, even outlaw motorcycle gangs. These affiliations are rarely understood as social standing in the conventional sense, but they are, nonetheless, deliberate positions within a hierarchy—if only a countercultural one.
Consider “theatre people.” They often gain local popularity, yet they remain a class unto themselves—residual, perhaps, of the historic suspicion of actors as low or bawdy. The same applies to the purely intellectual class, which tends to remove itself from the scramble entirely. Neither wealth nor visibility secures traditional standing if it lacks the correct context—namely, the visceral and pragmatic cues society reads and rewards.
Escaping one’s inherited social status is rarely easy. The scent of our origins clings to us—persistent and revealing. Sometimes the escape is unnecessary; not everyone seeks to rise. Some even boast of their remove from “the citizens”—a curious turn of phrase I’ve never fully decoded but always found vaguely contemptuous. Others, driven to ascend at all costs, end by destroying themselves in the process.
I’ve seen an intelligent woman labour at preserving a social pose, exhausting herself in the process. I’ve seen a man debase himself in the hope of climbing a ladder that led to nothing. I myself once sacrificed morality for advancement—and survived to reflect on the trade. Not everyone does. As the saying goes, once you start, the slope is downhill.
And yet, it takes strength to resist the pull of social standing. Like it or not, it remains a select and comfortable abstraction. Its benefits are often real. To remove oneself from its orbit can mean losing not only personal privilege but also influence—sometimes on behalf of othersfor whom you feel greater impartiality than for yourself. Entire families have been constructed, maintained, or ruined by the pursuit of standing. And sometimes, in the end, what remains is not a position but a performance—the most convincing role one can sustain.