The discursive (de)legitimation of social work

By Marja Gastelaars and Marleen van der Haar1

Abstract. The purpose of this research paper is to demonstrate how Dutch social workers make sense of the cultural otherness produced by clients with migrant origins, and relate this to the various discourses that constitute the legacy of Dutch social work. It relies on a historical discourse analysis based on secondary sources, and on a field work study performed in a contemporary organization. Its results consist of an analysis of three different discourses. The first relates to the association of social work with the government policy that has been labelled Policing the Family by Jacques Donzelot (1977), in the past, and could also be called lifestyle management, in the present. This policy produces a generalised ‘otherness’as the practical starting point for the social workers’ interventions, and a specific kind of cultural indifference, as far as migrants are concerned. Second, inThe Netherlands, these lifestyle interventions have been deeply influenced, to this day, by a specific tradition of institutionalised diversity that is called pillarization. This discourse reinforces ‘culturalist’ interpretations of diversity.(Baumann 1999). The social workers’ current practices are decidedly informed by these two discourses, but also by a third. This discourse is dominated by the so-called social case work approach, in which social workers are expressly expected to be ‘open’ to their individual clients’ specific backgrounds. This approach opens up the possibility of a ‘constructivist’ conceptualization of cultural diversity (Baumann 1999), in which the contradictions produced by the discourses we mentioned earlier may even be dissolved.

Key words: research paper, political discourse, lifestyle management, pillarization,migrants, social work

1 Introduction

Like most Western countries, The Netherlands has been

confronted with the impact of global migration

1 Marja Gastelaars and Marleen van der Haar are associated, as a Senior researcher and a PhD student, respectively, with the Utrecht School of Governance at Utrecht University, in Utrecht, The Netherlands. Marleen van der Haar is trained as a cultural anthropologist. Her PhD on social workersdealing with cultural diversity will be published in 2007. Marja Gastelaars is a historical sociologist and has published on the historical development of the so-called lifestyle management in the Netherlands. Of late, she has been focussing on the so-called street level bureaucracies involved with the current performance of the social state. For contact, thee-mail address is: M.M.Gastelaars@uu.nl; the physical address: Utrecht School of Governance, Bijlhouwerstraat 6, 3511ZC., Utrecht, The Netherlands

movements during the past twenty years. The question

we wish to address, here, is how the clients with a

migrant origin are addressed by Dutch social workers,

assuming that they will be confronted with such

clients. (See also Bulcaen and Blommart 1999, and Anis

2005) In other words: How do social workers relate to

diversity issues in general and to the specific

cultural otherness produced by migrants? Most of all,

however, we want to find out, how their current

approach can be related to a number of discourses that

generally are considered relevant to the development

of the professional practices of social work.

Most of the material presented here shall be

derived from secondary historical sources that are

explicitly making sense of the discourses that have

been relevant to the development of Dutch social work.

To demonstrate the current relevance of this

historical legacy, however, we shall also draw on the

data collected in a fieldwork study performed in 2003

and 2004 in a local Dutch institution providing so-

called General Social Work. This data includes semi-

structured in-depth interviews with sixteen social

workers and 26 observations of professional-client

interactions, the latter involving both so-called

autochthonous Dutch and migrant clients (see also Van

der Haar (forthcoming)). This data shall illustrate

how the everyday practices of social workers can be

related to such general discourse, although this does

not imply, of course, that these practices can in any

way be reduced to such discourse. (Cf. Vermeulen and

Gastelaars 2000)

In this contribution we shall, first,

demonstrate, how social work activities are associated

with the socio-political discourse that has been

labelled by Donzelot, in his famous essay on Policing the

Family (1977; Cf. also Gastelaars 1985), as a strategy

aiming at the (re)-construction of the social, and at

the improvement of the everyday lifestyles of people

who are considered to be in need of ‘adaptation’ to

the socially accepted. We shall demonstrate, that the

construction of a generalized otherness is central to

this dicourse, but that it also appears to also adhere

to a policy of cultural indifference.

But, second, we shall demonstrate how a very

practical starting point for many of the interventions

in the ‘social’ (Donzelot 1977, Gastelaars 1985) is

provided by the longstanding Dutch tradition of

institutionalised diversity that is called

pillarization. (Stuurman 1983). In The Netherlands

many socio-political interventions, and the

interventions related to lifestyle management in

particular, have been locally institutionalized along

lines of diversity, relating them to a limited number

of religious denominations. Most local institutions,

including the institutions providing social work, were

internally expected to represent quite homogeneous

lifestyles. The diversity that is (re-)produced in

this manner can very well be associated with a so-

called culturalist tradition, as far as diversity is

concerned. In this tradition someone’s culture is

presented as a ‘catalogue of ideas and practices that

shape both the collective and the individual lives and

thoughts of all members.’ (Baumann 1999: 25) And, as

we shall see, even the interpretation of ethnic

diversity in the Netherlands appears to have followed

these ‘pillarised’ lines. (Cf. Rath 1991 and 1999)

And, third, we shall investigate a discourse that

is particularly considered relevant to the

professional aspect of the practices of social work.

This discourse started with the introduction, in the

‘fifties of the past century, of the social case work

method and appears to inform social workers’

activities to this very day. According to this

‘methodical’ principle, social workers have always

claimed that their repertoires are ‘open’ to their

clients’ own interpretations of their everyday lives

and that they ‘link up with where their clients

stand’, and take into account the diversity of these

clients’ backgrounds, accordingly. At first sight,

this way of dealing with their clients’ otherness

clearly associates with the so-called ‘constructivist’

approach of ‘culture’ in which ‘culture’ – or

‘otherness’ - can be seen as ’a complex, dynamic and

ever moving social construction’ that ‘only exists in

the act of being performed’. (Baumann1999: 26)

Accordingly, this latter repertoire could even be

expected to transcend the contradictions provided by,

on the one hand, the cultural indifference produced by

the general lifestyle management policies, and, on the

other, the homogenising culturalism associated with

pillarized discourse. But Baumann also warns us that

one should not rule out, in cases like this, that all

kinds of conceptualisations of diversity can be drawn

upon. So it may very well be that sometimes

‘culturalism’ shows up in specific negotiations, and

that, at another point in time, ‘cultural

indifference’ prevails.

2 Lifestyle management

The specific preoccupations of social workers always

have been associated, from the very beginning, with

the efforts of the Dutch national government to police

the families, (Donzelot 1977) or, expressed in a more

contemporary vernacular, to improve the everyday

lifestyles of those people who do not appear to

‘socially fit in’.

Their involvement in this specific discourse, and

in the actions that it tends to produce (Cf.

Czarniawska 1997 and 2000) implies a number of

practical assumptions. It means, first, that over the

years the strategies of social workers have usually

been framed as an ‘immaterial’ pendant to the material

and financial support that traditionally is provided

by social security. In the beginning, social workers

were the ones who helped establish the distinction

between the deserving and the undeserving poor, as an

indication of one’s eligibility for material support.

But, after the constitution of the final piece of

social security, the so-called Bijstand Law of 1965,

providing a ‘basic financial support’, the social

workers and their lifestyle management moved away from

issues directly related to material issues. They

raised, for instance, the issue of social wellbeing as

opposed to financial welfare (Engbersen and Van der

Veen 1987; Engbersen 1990; cf. also Sennett and Cobb

1972)). And at present, social workers who do address

financial issues are not particularly focussing on the

financial aspect, but rather on the ways in which

people cope. In the institution we investigated, the

financial issues themselves were, for instance,

delegated to the representatives of a different

discipline, which was called socio-juridical work.

A second practical assumption related to this

kind of lifestyle management is that the strategies of

social workers appear to be locally oriented, by

definition. In the past the social workers’ strategies

were expressly associated with housing policies and

with public hygiene, observing people in their

negotiations at home and teaching them how to run a

proper household. Later on a neighbouring discipline

of community workers, was explicitly associated with

the social reconstruction of urban neighbourhoods, but

such neighbourhoods and the associated housing issues

remained contextually relevant to social workers. To

this day, it still is considered quite appropriate for

social workers, to relate their services to distinctly

local settings. They even conduct some of their one-

to-one conversations at their clients’ homes.

Moreover, all Dutch institutions providing General

Social Work, including the institution where we

performed our research, are financially dependent on

their local governments, by now.

Third, and from its very beginnings, the

discipline has tended to focus mainly on adults and on

their ‘family situation’, although the current social

work agenda does not stop there. It does also deal

with the clients’ wider social networks. In our field

notes we found frequent allusions to the latter, with

social workers asking questions like ‘do you have

anyone you can discuss this with?’ The social workers

observed also encouraged their clients to go out and

meet people that can help. Moreover, social workers

traditionally have developed a specific interest in

the situation of women. The start of the profession

was clearly associated with the so-called first wave

of women’s emancipation, and involved middle class

women supporting other women in their gendered roles

as housewives and mothers. (De Regt 1984) In the so-

called second wave of the emancipation movement the

social workers gave priority to emancipation issues,

and particularly favoured the societal participation

of their women clients.

About cultural indifference and the production of

otherness

Given this framework, the lifestyle management

discourse does have a number of implications for the

practical performance of social work.

First of all, the individuals or groups singled

out to be addressed are labelled in a specific manner.

From the early beginnings of the profession, there has

been an ongoing debate as to the exact nature of the

‘standards’ that were to be applied (Cf. Gastelaars

1985), but in all of its versions social workers

produced a specific concept of ‘otherness’ and applied

this to their potential clients. This otherness

related to ‘deviance’ as opposed to ‘normalcy’, and

implied that the potential clients of social workers

should be seen as ‘quite different from “us”’.

Moreover, and second, the implied ‘we’ usually

referred to as an idealised version of mainstream or

normal behaviour. The norms and values involved, here,

have also been under considerable debate, but they

were generally considered to be quite middle class or

at least mainstream culture. (Cf. Gastelaars 1985) As

also can be gathered from our interview material, even

nowadays the majority of social workers does originate

from such a background, and appears to be inclined to

apply the associated values to its clients, although,

by now, their reflexivity on this point has markedly

increased. More relevant to our current reasoning,

however, is that these ‘culturally indifferent’

generalizations did also imply the suppression of

cultural diversity.

Third, the labels-in-use did carry a judgement of

the otherness they constituted, and, again, they do so

to this day. And again, this judgement has been

contested over time, as it was essentially related to

the many shifts in socio-political discourse.

Accordingly, the labels changed, for instance from

‘the inadmissible’ (ontoelaatbaren; Cf. De Regt 1984) or

‘the un-social’ (onmaatschappelijken/ a-socialen) to ‘the

socially maladjusted’ (onaangepasten), and also the

practical starting point of the treatment was

redefined. The latter changed from a physical

separation to a (compulsory) re-education. And for

instance an attempt to introduce a morally (and

culturally) more relativistic label, of ‘the socially

different’ (anders maatschappelijken; Cf. Gastelaars 1985)

raised considerable debate at the time but did not

amount to a new regime.

It was well into the seventies, when the moral

content of these judgements came effectively under

debate. (Van der Lans et al. 2003) But once this had

happened, it was almost at once generally assumed that

the people who were to be dealt with by social workers

should be seen as ‘socially incapacitated’ or

‘disempowered’ (maatschappelijk achtergestelden) rather than

as deviant, and should be helped with their specific

issues of survival. (Cf. Also Gastelaars 1985) A

similar label-in-use is provided by the institution

where we performed our fieldwork. It claims to be a

´safety net’ for the ‘socially weak’ (maatschappelijk

zwakken), i.e., ‘for people who experience

difficulties in their functioning as a full member of

society.´ (policy paper 2002-2005:15) The institution

provides so-called first line psychosocial help.

A very import issue to social workers is, fourth,

that the lifestyles of the others, thus defined, are

invariably framed as ‘socially produced’. We mentioned

it earlier, that social workers insist on a local

approach, rather than on structural interventions. As

a consequence, the individual lifestyles they observe

are invariably seen as produced and reproduced through

the relevant ‘local systems’. Accordingly, the

neighbourhoods, families, social networks surrounding

the individuals under treatment appear to be at least

an inevitable part of the ‘diagnosis’, although this

does not mean that these systems, themselves, are

actually targeted by the social workers’

interventions. In spite of a widespread criticism of

precisely this aspect of their individualising

approach, in the sixties and seventies, (Cf Van der

Laan et al 1987, Koenis 1993, Van der Lans et al.

2003) the starting point of the social workers’

interventions has invariably been the individual’s capacity

to deal with whatever ‘system’ is in view.

Fifth, and not unimportantly, many authors argue

(Cf. Waaldijk et al. 1999) that there has always been

a notion of programmed change involved in the practice

of social work. Accordingly there shall always be an

aim, involving a situation in which the client is

‘functioning in an appropriate manner’. And, as for

instance Waaldijk et al. (1999) argue, this will

inevitably create a tension, between the social

workers’ intention of ‘helping people’ and that of

‘keeping them under tutelage’. This is the case,

because the ‘appropriate manner’ that is implied is

usually not defined by the clients, but is stated in

terms of ‘what contemporary society requires’, and by

those who are ‘in charge’ of the transformation. Even

the more recent efforts aimed at the active

mobilisation of individual self-reflection and

personal growth (zelfinzicht and zelfontplooiing) and, more

recently, of the individual clients’ self-reliance

(zelfredzaamheid; Cf. also Tonkens 1999), can be seen as

similar ‘projections’ of programmed change.

In this context the still current objectives of

the Dutch Law concerning Social Welfare (1994) may

speak for themselves. They are (1) promoting the self-

realisation of people, and (2) stimulating both their

self-reliance and (3) their participation in society

at large (Welzijnswet 1994, Artikel 1.b1). They focus

on values that are apparently considered to be vital

to one’s survival in contemporary society. And, as we

have seen, the same counts for the strategies proposed

by the institution where we have done our research.

Like all other institutions of this kind, its access

is free of charge. Moreover, it claims to improve the

personal and social functioning of its clients.

(policy paper 2002-2005:15) And, again, this message

is presented in a ‘culturally neutral’ or ‘culturally

indifferent’ manner. By now, even the association of

otherness with deviance is left out.

3. The institutionalization of cultural diversity:

about pillarization

Quite a few authors have described, however, how,

until the seventies of the twentieth century, the

activities of all social institutions in The

Netherlands were subsumed under a ‘pillarized

structure’ along religious lines. In this

institutionalized diversity ample room was provided to

the Catholic and Protest pillars; the institutions

that were labelled ‘non-denominational’ were delegated

to a separate pillar, that was labelled ‘socialist’,

‘liberal’ or ‘general’, depending on the situation or

on the issue at stake. (Cf. Stuurman 1983; Gastelaars

1985; Kennedy 1995) Many of the institutions of the

emerging social state, and those institutions

associated with the so-called lifestyle management, in

particular, were automatically subsumed under this

pillarized regime.

This pillarized structure assumed, first, that

the relative autonomy of the numerous societal

‘midfield players’ should be maintained. Under the

unifying Dutch social state, the many governmental and

non governmental institutions in this societal centre

field (the Dutch term actually relates to soccer and

is maatschappelijk middenveld) were expressly granted

‘autonomy in their own circle’ (as the Protestant

expression had it) or ‘subsidiarity’ (this term was

proposed by the Roman Catholic hierarchy, in its Rerum

Novarum ecyclical letter of 1899). On the one hand,

these institutions were required to act according to

the state regulations and professional standards that

prevailed but, on the other, they were to be left to

their own denominational devices. As a consequence,

they were ideologically quite autonomous, indeed.

A second assumption associated with this

pillarization, however, was even more pervasive

because it affected the people’s everyday lives. This

assumption was that the various pillars were expressly

expected to contribute to the active management of

people’s lifestyles. Accordingly, and at least until

the last census performed in The Netherlands, in 1971,

it was assumed as a matter of course that each and

every Dutchman was ‘born into’ a pillar and would

remain part of it for the rest of his or her life.

Moreover, the institutions a person was expected to

participate in – from schools to the labour union,

from hospitals to social assistance and social work –

were all expressly related to a specific denomination.

(Gastelaars 1985) As a consequence, within the pillars

the people were to be socialised into quite

homogeneous lifestyles, however much the nation was

divided along religious lines.

To provide an example, the social work department

of a local social service organisation, where our

actual fieldwork was performed is geographically

located in the centre of a mid-sized city in an

otherwise quite rural area. The city is not

specifically rural, itself. Moreover, it is quite

renowned, nationally, as a retirement resort for

wealthy people, although some of its neighbourhoods

are decidedly poor. But, as it turns out, these

characteristics do not particularly appear to affect

the identity of this institution. The fact, however,

that the city is located in a predominantly Protestant

region, does. As one of its social workers has it:

‘This is a sweet little Reformation town.’ And,

particularly when relating to the past, the issue of

pillarization appears to colour the narratives

provided by both its management and its professionals.

As to the latter, this specific institution has

been, like so many others of its kind, the product of

a merger, some years ago. One of the merging partners

had been an institution with a Protestant signature,

the other was called general. At present the latter

label prevails, due to the general process of de-

pillarization that was also perceived as one cause of

the merger. Accordingly, the present institution still

claims to mirror the local population’s religious

diversity, but its workers are discouraged to act out

their religious (or any other) affiliations. One of

the social workers who were interviewed told us:

Fragment from interview social worker (SW) 7-10-2003

(SW)‘...they have been suggesting some formal

guidelines, a while ago. It turned out that a

whole lot of colleagues were busy with uh

reiki or with astrology and that kind of

things (...) like also with my being a

Christian, I am not supposed to go and pray

with my clients because that is just

something you will have to refer to pastoral

social work because that is not what I am

here for ...’

Apparently, religious affiliations are now treated in

a similar manner as the alternative treatments that

currently compete with regular social work.

And yet, this structurally managed diversity

still is very prominent in the Dutch arrangements

related to the social state. Various authors have even

observed that the manner in which the Dutch government

has been dealing with its migrant population, has been

deeply influenced by this specific discourse. (Rath

1991 and 1999; Benhabib 2002, 78) A recent report of

the Dutch Scientific Council for Government Policy

suggests, for instance, that, in the case of ethnicity

(a term that is often used as a synonym for

‘culture’), this label has been treated as a group

membership. According to the report, one’s ethnic

identity was not considered ‘an individual choice’, on

the assumption that ‘one is born into the group.’ (WRR

2003: 177) Even more striking is, however, that the

institutional arrangements related to migrants were

taken care of in ‘pillarized’ terms.

Ever since the first entry of a large number of

migrants into The Netherlands, starting with the de-

colonization of Indonesia, in the ‘fifties, (Rath

1991) the distinction between autochthonous Dutch ( a

‘we’) and allochtonous others ( a ‘them’) has been cut

through by the formal recognition by the national

government, of a diversity of ethnic backgrounds. The

state acknowledged a number of ethnically defined

groups as ‘minorities’, and proposed that they were to

be dealt with on a collective basis. Accordingly, the

cultural differences between these groups were

officially acknowledged, but an internal ‘cultural

homogeneity’ was also assumed. In fact, this approach

amounts to a culturalist approach of ethnic diversity,

as we quoted earlier in the description of Baumann.

(Baumann 1999: 25) The socio-political label attached

to this migrant policy – minority policy was the

concept-in-use – was ‘integration with the

preservation of one’s own identity’ (integratie met behoud

van de eigen identiteit). Autonomy in one’s own circle, all

over again.

In a similar manner, a so-called category

approach (categorale benadering) was applied to the

organisations performing social work. Sometimes the

national government allowed separate organisations to

be dedicated to specific ethnic groups. Sometimes, it

encouraged local organizations - and this did include

the one where our fieldwork was performed - to employ

professionals who were expressly specialized in social

work for immigrants with specific ethnic backgrounds.

By now, the ethnic groups that were involved did not

only include immigrants from the former Dutch colonies

- Indonesia, the Antilles and Surinam - but also

labour migrants with a Turkish or Moroccan background.

In the organization where the field work performed, a

number of these specialized social workers had similar

ethnic backgrounds, themselves.

But, around this institution, the current

proportion of migrants among the local population

amounts to a little bit less than the national average

of 18% (CBS 2002). Moreover, among those visiting the

social workers, the local migrant population does not

appear to be underrepresented. It may not come as a

surprise, then, that, in view of this increasing

number of migrants, the current national migrant

policy, and also the policy this type of organisations

are expected to present, have undergone a certain

change. Its dealings with all of its clients should

from now on be based on an ‘integral approach’. This

implies in Dutch social work jargon that all clients

are to be approached in a similar manner and that no

professional specialization is allowed, including the

specialized approach of specific groups of migrant

clients. It encourages every single professional to

develop the ‘cultural competences’ that enable them to

perform their professional practices with their

migrant clients. (cf also Van Dongen 2003)

This policy is in line with the current

government policy, which insists on the promotion of

‘citizenship’, and the express encouragement of the

individual ‘empowerment’ of people with a migrant

background. Its current slogan is: getting opportunities,

using opportunities. (Nota kansen krijgen, kansen pakken 1998) A

recent report on the Integration of Minorities (Rapport

integratie minderheden 2003) even explicitly insists that

the governmental integration policy is to refrain from

the culturalist assumptions that governed it in the

past, in favour of a mutual negotiation process in

which both parties are actively involved. (Benhabib

2002: 78; Koopmans 2003: 73)

And, as a matter of fact, this specific way of

dealing with cultural otherness clearly associates

with a ‘constructivist’ concept of culture (Baumann

1999) in which ‘culture’ should not be considered as

the ’static’ worldviews attributed to specific groups,

but rather as ’a complex, dynamic and ever moving

social construction’ (1999: 26) And yet, some room is

provided for the traditional version of culturalist

diversity, as well. In the organisation where our case

study was performed, there even was a pilot group for

Turkish men, under the guidance of a male social

worker with a Turkish background. The institution also

provides specialised help for asylum seekers and

refugees.

Moreover, the same counts for issues related to

the position of women. As had been the case all over

The Netherlands, many of the female social workers in

this institution had been familiarised with gender

specific help, as their training period coincided, in

many cases, with the second wave of the women’s

movement. Moreover, individual clients were allowed,

as a part of the institution’s intention to provide

so-called tailor-made help, to state a preference for

either a male or a female social worker, at their

intakes. And sometimes – e.g., in the case of battered

women - the professional team even insisted upon such

a preference, itself.

4. The practical anchors of social work

It has been reaffirmed in the above, that Dutch social

workers do adapt their constructions of professional

legitimacy to current socio-cultural changes. Some

authors even suggest that this inclination has

endangered their legitimacy as a well-defined

profession, by definition. (Van der Laan et.al. 1987;

Koenis 1993; Waaldijk et.al 1999; De Boer and

Duyvendak 2004) And yet, the Dutch social workers have

collected a number of the specific professional

attributes over the years that are generally expected

to contribute to the recognition, by the state and

otherwise, of a specific professional status (Wilensky

1964; Abbott 1988; Freidson 2001).

Accordingly, the social workers have developed a

specialized training – their first specialised School

for Social Work started in 1899. To this day its

schools have been recognised in the Dutch regime of

higher education, although not at the university

level. The social workers have also produced

professional organisations and professional codes of

conduct, and a professional registration. (Wilensky

1964, NVMW 1999). But, as we said, there is a general

agreement that Dutch social workers did not gain the

expected professional status (Koenis 1993) although,

at the same time the profession has turned out to be

indispensable to society, particularly where that

aspect of social policy is concerned that affects the

management of everyday life.

In some respects social workers even appear to

take some pride in being different from other

professionals. For instance, in the interview fragment

presented below, a male social worker explicitly

differentiates his performance from that of the

medical sector, in a manner that can also be found

with many of his colleagues. He specifically

criticizes its traditional distancing between

professional doctors and their ‘lay’ patients.

Fragment, Interview SW 23-10-2003:

SW: (…) what we want to avoid is that we are the

experts and uh that the client is the

dependent person who asks for help… in former

days of course it happened that social

workers, from the medical point of view they

were the doctors, the men with the white

coats on and, ( ) as to the one who asked

for help was concerned, you were ignorant and

uninformed (…) what we want to try is to take

to the people’s point of view as a starting

point and to look at their situation together

with them and to be as non-hierarchical as we

can be (…)

Moreover, social workers do approach their

clients individually, themselves, but their diagnostic

efforts do not rely on the kind of well-defined

classifications of individual disorders that is

usually available to other helping professions.

Instead, they expressly claim to be interested in

individuals-in-their-social-context and, particularly,

in the way these individual take hold of their lives,

themselves. And it is precisely in view of this

intention, that the social workers did develop

‘methodical’ practices of their own. And, in order to

substantiate these professional claims, most social

workers relate to social case work as one of their

primary foundations.

This method became popular in the fifties of the

past century. At that time the Dutch government

started to establish organizations providing

professional social work, under the pillarized regime

we described earlier. Accordingly, the number of

established social workers increased and also the

training of these professionals – if not their formal

recognition – was provided for by the state. (Van der

Haar, forthcoming; Gastelaars 1985) The profession,

itself, was using the social case work method to

replace its former ‘tutelary’ approach of the clients

it approaches.

This approach – or ‘method’, as it was generally

called - was founded on building a relationship with

the people under treatment, and the intended change

was presented as a process of mutual construction,

provided the initiative of the clients was also

properly framed. In order to do so, the method

encouraged social workers to allow their clients,

first of all, to tell their own stories. From an

interview with the woman who introduced this US method

in The Netherlands, Marie Kamphuis, we quote (Jagt

1990: 19) ‘As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until we had

case work, that we actually learnt to listen to the

client.’

Accordingly, Kamphuis also introduced the

fundamental social work rule ‘to start where the

client is’ into the social work repertoire. (Kamphuis

1950: 52) And, as far as we have been able to deduce

from our fieldwork material, this specific practical

starting point for treatment still is very important

to social workers. For instance, one of the

interviewed social workers explained that in the

contact with a client she tried to walk on his/her

“map” in order to “find out how this client looks at

the world” (Interview SW 17-10-2003) as a starting

point for her counselling efforts. The management of

this organisation also appears to highly value its

professionals to ‘link up with where the client

stands’.

Second, the social case work method insisted on

working methodically, and on the basis of face to

face conversations, preferably in a counselling room

which creates some distance from the turbulence of

everyday life. But, as we have seen, the

conversations may also be performed on different

locations, but this should not be allowed to

interfere with the specific agenda of the social

worker. (Van der Haar, forthcoming) Social work is

presented as ‘a method and a process’, and the

‘mutual relationship between the client and the

professional’ were considered central issues. For

instance, and on the one hand, the social workers

were expected to approach their clients ‘near enough’

to be able to help them, while, on the other, they

were also expected to keep a sufficient ‘distance’,

in order to not destroy their dignity and

independence. (Cf. also Sennett 2003)

It was also assumed, third, that the client would

have to take some of the steps him- or herself. The

client was even expected to actively contribute to

the solution. The process aims at the express

encouragement of the clients, to take responsibility

for their own lives, to help them help themselves

(Dercksen and Verplanke 1987: 166-7) and these

expectations were also consistently found in our

fieldwork. In the following fragment a social worker

explains:

Fragment, Interview social worker (SW) 2-10-2003

SW: (...) you can work together with them towards

a moment of development (...) Well and that

is what you could call [the aim of] social

work, to develop yourself personally, even

though you have debts it is personal

development to take care that you will not

have those debts again (...)

Accordingly, the social workers usually presume an

‘ideal client role’ as a starting point for their

interventions, in which the client is expected to

present some specific attributes, him- or herself.

For instance, the social workers that were

interviewed in the case study presented a

significantly uniform picture of what a client ought

to do or at least of what he or she is expected to

learn in the course of the social work consultations.

According to these interviewees, the people they are

dealing with should - and here we quote from the

interviews – be able to develop ‘self-reflection’.

They are not only expected to participate but to be

(or become) ‘self-reliant’, ‘self-supportive’, and

perform a ‘responsibility of one’s own’, be

‘conscious of one’s own capabilities’, and ‘of the

fact that people can make their own choices in life’.

(Van der Haar 2006 and forthcoming)

In fact, and fourth, this method was also

designed to perform a specific agenda of programmed

change, however much this program tends to change

over time, itself. Kamphuis states that, in the past,

it was generally accepted to moralize the client, and

the clients were simply expected to obey. ‘One could

admonish people, and actually prescribe the actions

they were to take, and convince them’. (Kamphuis in

Jagt 1990: 19) At present, there is still a specific

change to be produced, however much the social

workers do also rely on the willing participation of

their clients. And, as we have indicated in an

earlier paragraph, individual empowerment has now

become the central issue.

This aim is, for instance, summarised in the

following manner, in a fragment from an interview

with a male social worker.

Fragment, Interview social worker (SW) 5-11-2003:

SW: (…) the emancipatory vision uhm from which

social work starts is uhm making people

conscious of, of uh…of the problem, of their

situation…getting people to be conscious

about the fact that they have their own

choices, and uhm to support them creating a

different situation, both involving the

person and the situation itself (…)

As it turns out, expressions like ‘involving the

client and his or her system’ do not only relate to a

practical agenda of ‘placing the individual in

his/her social context’, they also relate to the

specific ‘frame of relevance’ of this empowerment

oriented version of programmed change. In fact, the

program appears to aim at mobilising the social

workers’ clients, ‘to adapt in a better way’ to their

specific context, meaning the local social context

that prevails. (Waaldijk 1999: 121; see also Neij

1989)

Negotiating culture

At first sight, all of these principles appear to be

performed in a natural manner with migrant clients,

as well. Particularly in the actual negotiations

between social workers and clients that have been

observed in our fieldwork, we have observed many

social workers actually negotiating the ‘otherness’

of their clients in different ways. (Van der Haar,

forthcoming) As Anis observed in a Finish study as

well, they actually appear to use their clients’

‘culture’ as one of the many methodological tools

that are available to the social worker, to open up a

dialogue between themselves and their clients. (Anis

2005)

But as it turns out, there are also quite a few

instances where social workers appear to particularly

perceive some of their clients with a migrant

background as ‘difficult’. For instance, where the

first principle of ‘linking up with where the client

stands’, the beginning is often quite easy:

Fragment, Interview Social worker (SW) 7-10-2003:

R: And what about what you told me in the

beginning that it is really a condition for truly

getting in touch with the client...

SW: Yesss!

R: Is that more difficult in this group?

SW: No! You start talking about baking breads and

you have (laughs), you know, than you already are

in touch, because these people are so hospitable,

so that is not so much the point...

But, as many social workers appear to insist in their

accounts, migrant clients do not always present their

problems in the required manner. For instance, they

are observed, more than other clients, to ‘somatize’

their problems and ‘medicalize’ them (and apparently

to anticipate a medical treatment).

We particularly found, however, that migrant

clients did not appear to fit into the ideal client

roles. Again and again these clients were

characterised as not taking their responsibilities,

and as not being sufficiently reflective on their own

lives. Moreover, in the case of such ‘difficult

cases’ of a migrant origin, the main explanation the

interviewees gave for these problems was, again,

‘their culture’. And, to put it even more bluntly:

being identified as a migrant appeared to implicate,

at least to some of the workers that were

interviewed, that such characteristics would

automatically fit the client.

Migrant clients did particularly not fit into the

picture of taking one’s fate into one’s own hands.

They were often talked about as “being passive”,

“having little self-reflection”, and “having a victim

mentality”. This is illustrated by the following

fragment

Fragment, Interview Social Worker (SW) 10-11-2003

SW: (...) what I found difficult about [dealing

with migrant clients] is uh the victim uh

mentality, that that making it so theatrical

(...) I found it difficult working with

foreign people because they keep sticking in

Oh, Oh I am so pitiful, instead of what can

you do about it yourself...

And again – and here particularly the female migrants

are addressed – it is particularly their cultural

background that is perceived to provide certain

obstacles in the process. The following fragment

illustrates this.

Fragment, Interview SW 7-10-2003

SW: (...) it is (...), uh the limitations that

they have in their culture, hm, for example

when you observe homesickness in a woman [and

she] is very limited in all her doings

because she is under the pressure of her

husband, which again is a cultural

arrangement, then it is very difficult for me

to work on standing up for yourself or making

your own choices (...)

So, and in spite of the fact that, again, there can be

found many instances, in our fieldwork, where the

social workers actually do appear to transcend their

clients’ otherness, in their everyday negotiations,

there are also many instances to be found where,

actually, the clients’ otherness is framed as an

‘obstacle’ to a proper process. And, to put it more

strongly, there are even some instances found,

involving migrant clients, where the social workers’

intention to ‘help people help themselves’ did not

mean, by definition, that these clients were allowed

to do so on their own terms.

5. Conclusion

The aim of this contribution was to demonstrate how

Dutch social workers relate to the specific cultural

otherness produced by people with migrant origins, and

how they make use, in this particular context, of the

specific legacies related to the historical

development of social work. And, as we have seen, the

legacy associated with the discourse on the ‘(re)-

production of the social’ (Donzelot 1977) and with the

‘lifestyle management’ of those individual citizens,

whose walk of life does not appear to fit in, still is

in place, and so is, albeit to a lesser extent, the

legacy related to the discourse around pillarization.

Accordingly, the social workers still appear to

create a generalised other, as far as the lifestyle

management is concerned. At present, these others –

the “them” - are perceived as ‘deviant’ less often

than before. Moreover, they still are expected to

‘assimilate’ into a dominant – modern or middle class

– pattern of values, although at present social

workers’ intention is, to ‘empower’ them, to do so.

But, to turn our initial question around, it may also

be precisely this discourse that still legitimizes

social workers to deal with the cultural otherness as

it is presented by migrant clients in a specific

manner. In relation to migrant clients it appears that

the ‘old fashioned’ notion of deviance appears to have

been revived.

Our findings in this respect are also confirmed

by the results of a Finnish study (Anis 2005) about

social work encounters with immigrant families. Anis

presents us with three ways of using ‘culture’ as a

resource. In his first mode, the notion of culture is

used to explain ‘the normal’ as opposed to the

‘deviance’ produced by social work clients. And, in

fact, two things happen at the same time. The first is

that migrant clients will automatically be delegated

to that part of the world where ‘otherness’ prevails,

and are thus automatically considered as ‘different’.

The second is, however, is, that, in the case of some

migrant clients, this othernesss may even be

considered an anomaly (van Dongen 2003), and as quite

‘irredeemable’, indeed.

The legacy provided by the discourse around

pillarization, however, presents us with another

possibility. In this contribution these pillarization

efforts are characterised as a rather paradoxical

strategy, in which, on the one hand, some diversity is

generally recognised, but in which, on the other,

internal homogeneity was insisted upon, insofar as

individuals are actually expected to be ‘socialized’

into ‘their’ culture. Although the ‘pillarized’

institutional treatment of ‘ethnic minorities’ appears

to have become outmoded in Dutch social policy, of

late, we have also seen that the associated

‘culturalism’ did not disappear as easily. This is

particularly the case when, in the course of their

everyday negotiations of people, representatives of

the ‘in group’ of social workers are confronted with

the ‘out groups’ many migrants represent. This finding

confirms a second pattern the Finnish study we quoted

earlier. (Anis 2005) In this pattern, one’s culture is

used as an explanation of the ‘difficulty’ social

workers encounter with a specific kind of clients.

This is particularly the case when migrants and

professionals, alike, particularly relate to ‘their’

culture as something that is ‘out there’.

Our conclusion is, then, that apparently these

two traditional networks still help to legitimise some

of the actions of social workers perform, when

confronted with migrant clients. However, we also

discussed a third action net that is specifically

related to the practices of social work. It insists on

a ‘methodical’ style of working that can actually be

characterized as rather ‘process oriented’ and also as

quite ‘open’ to the clients’ own experiences, and

associates with a ‘constructivist’ concept of culture

(Baumann 1999) in which ‘culture’ should not be

considered as the ’static’ worldviews attributed to

specific groups, but rather as ’a complex, dynamic and

ever moving social construction.’ (1999: 26) It also

fits in with a third pattern identified by Anis in his

Finnish study. (Anis 2005) We quoted it in an earlier

paragraph as the pattern in which social workers

appear to use their clients’ ‘culture’ as one of the

many methodological tools that are available, to open

up a dialogue between themselves and their clients.

But, although we have indicated, that this

pattern does occur in the case of the social workers

we encountered in our research, we should certainly

keep Boumann’s suggestion in mind that, precisely

because of the openness of their negotiation processes

with their clients, social workers may be specifically

inclined to make use of all resources that are

available to them, including those provided by the

legacies of social work.

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