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HOSPITALITY: A SOCIAL LENS
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Advances in Tourism Research Series Editor: Professor Stephen J. Page University of Stirling, UK
[email protected] Advances in Tourism Research series publishes monographs and edited volumes that comprise state-of-the-art research findings, written and edited by leading researchers working in the wider field of tourism studies. The series has been designed to provide a cutting edge focus for researchers interested in tourism, particularly the management issues now facing decision-makers, policy analysts and the public sector. The audience is much wider than just academics and each book seeks to make a significant contribution to the literature in the field of study by not only reviewing the state of knowledge relating to each topic but also questioning some of the prevailing assumptions and research paradigms, which currently exist in tourism research. The series also aims to provide a platform for further studies in each area by highlighting key research agendas, which will stimulate further debate and interest in the expanding area of tourism research. The series is always willing to consider new ideas for innovative and scholarly books, inquiries should be made directly to the Series Editor. Published: Benchmarking National Tourism Organisations and Agencies Lennon, Smith, Cockerel and Trew Extreme Tourism: Lessons from the World’s Cold Water Islands Baldacchino Tourism Local Systems and Networking Lazzeretti and Petrillo Progress in Tourism Marketing Kozak and Andreu Indigenous Tourism Page, Ryan and Aicken An International Handbook of Tourism Education Airey & Tribe Tourism in Turbulent Times Wilks, Pendergast and Leggat Taking Tourism to the Limits Ryan, Page and Aicken Tourism and Social Identities Burns and Novelli Micro-Clusters & Networks — The Growth of Tourism Michael Tourism and Politics Burns and Novelli Tourism and Small Businesses in the New Europe Thomas Forthcoming: The Critical Turn in Tourism Studies Atelijevic Cutting Edge Research in Tourism Tribe For other titles in the series visit: www.elsevier.com/locate/series/aitr Related Elsevier Journals — sample copies available on request Annals of Tourism Research International Journal of Hospitality Management Tourism Management
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HOSPITALITY: A SOCIAL LENS EDITED BY
CONRAD LASHLEY Nottingham Trent University, UK
PAUL LYNCH University of Strathclyde, UK
ALISON MORRISON University of Strathclyde, UK
Amsterdam ● Boston ● Heidelberg ● London ● New York ● Oxford Paris ● San Diego ● San Francisco ● Singapore ● Sydney ● Tokyo
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Elsevier The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford OX5 1GB, UK Radarweg 29, PO Box 211, 1000 AE Amsterdam, The Netherlands First edition 2007 Copyright © 2007 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher Permissions may be sought directly from Elsevier’s Science & Technology Rights Department in Oxford, UK: phone (+44) (0) 1865 843830; fax (+44) (0) 1865 853333; email:
[email protected]. Alternatively you can submit your request online by visiting the Elsevier web site at http://elsevier.com/locate/permissions, and selecting Obtaining permission to use Elsevier material Notice No responsibility is assumed by the publisher for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods, products, instructions or ideas contained in the material herein, Because of rapid advances in the medical sciences, in particular, independent verification of diagnoses and drug dosages should be made British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress ISBN-13: 978-0-08-045093-3 ISBN-10: 0-08-045093-8
For information on all Elsevier publications visit our website at books.elsevier.com
Printed and bound in The Netherlands 07 08 09 10 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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Contents
List of Figures
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List of Tables
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Contributors
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Preface
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1.
Hospitality: An Introduction Conrad Lashley, Paul Lynch and Alison Morrison
1
2.
Dimensions of Hospitality: Exploring Ancient and Classical Origins Kevin D O’Gorman
17
3.
Transgressing Hospitality: Polarities and Disordered Relationships? Colin Sheringham and Pheroza Daruwalla
33
4.
Hospitality and Gastronomy: Natural Allies Barbara Santich
47
5.
Hospitality and Tourism in Ngadha: An Ethnographic Exploration Stroma Cole
61
6.
The Role of the Hospitality Industry in Cultural Assimilation: A Case Study from Colonial Australia Barry O’Mahony
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7.
Hospitality and Urban Regeneration David Bell
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8.
Commodifying Space: Hotels and Pork Bellies Annabel Wharton
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Commercial Home Enterprises: Identity, Space and Setting MariaLaura Di Domenico and Paul Lynch
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10. Inhospitable Hospitality? George Ritzer
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11. The Power of Hospitality: A Sociolinguistic Analysis Martha Robinson and Paul Lynch
141
12. Opening Pandora’s Box: Aesthetic Labour and Hospitality Dennis Nickson and Chris Warhurst
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13. Ways of Knowing Hospitality Conrad Lashley, Paul Lynch and Alison Morrison
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Author Index
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Subject Index
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List of Figures
Figure 11.1:
The control chain.
145
Figure 13.1:
Hospitality Conceptual Lens.
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List of Tables
Table 12.1:
Relative importance of particular skills.
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CONTRIBUTORS
David Bell is a senior lecturer in Critical Human Geography at the University of Leeds, UK, with research interests in urban cultures and consumption, cultural policy, and sexuality. Stroma Cole is a senior lecturer in the Department of Tourism and Air Travel with research interests in the anthropology of tourism and tourism development in less developed countries. Pheroza Daruwalla is a senior lecturer in Hospitality Management with research interests in educational processes and human resource management. MariaLaura Di Domenico is a research associate in social enterprise at the Judge Business School, University of Cambridge, with research interests in small business, social/community enterprises and social entrepreneurship. Conrad Lashley is a professor and head of the Centre for Leisure Retailing with research interests in service quality management, employee empowerment and has made a leading contribution to hospitality management education. Paul Lynch is a senior lecturer in Critical Hospitality Studies with research interests in commercial homes and hospitality management. Alison Morrison is a professor and head of the Department of Hospitality and Tourism Management with research interests in hospitality studies and entrepreneurship. Dennis Nickson is a reader in Human Resource Management with research interests in labour market trends and aesthetic labour. Kevin D O’Gorman is a PhD researcher in Hospitality Studies with research interests in the history and philosophy of hospitality and tourism as depicted in ancient, classical, medieval texts. Barry O’Mahony is an associate professor and director of the Centre for Hospitality and Tourism Research with research interests in hospitality studies and management, and historical perspectives of hospitality.
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Contributors
George Ritzer is a professor of sociology and internationally known for his work in social theory, and particularly that applied to what he has termed the ‘mcdonaldization of society’. Martha Robinson is a lecturer of Linguistics and Modern Languages with interest in sociolinguistic discourse issues, especially deixis and the language of power in the context of discourse analysis. Barbara Santich is Program Manager for the Le Gordon Bleu Program in Gastronomy at the University of Adelaide, with research interests in culinary history and gastronomy. Colin Sheringham is a lecturer in Hospitality Management and Gastronomy with research interests in gastronomy, food as leisure and food in the carnivalesque. Chris Warhurst is a professor in Human Resource Management with research interests in labour market trends and aesthetic labour. Annabel Wharton is the William B. Hamilton Professor of Art History, specialising in Early Christian and Byzantine Art and Architecture, and Modern Architecture.
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Preface
This book follows on from In Search of Hospitality: Theoretical Perspectives and Debates, which was published in 2000 and represents one of the most significant contributions to the advancement of hospitality in higher education. Thus, it is understandable that the editors of this text have taken considerable time and care to ensure that Hospitality: A Social Lens is worthy to sit along side In Search, not as a successor but as further tangible demonstration of the advancement in thinking and knowledge within the academic field of hospitality. Therefore, the aim of this text is to continue the task commenced in 2000, challenging the existing boundaries of knowledge of hospitality as a concept broadly defined within society and not merely confined to the world of business and management. The chapter Contributors represent a multi-disciplinary, international grouping of leading academics with expertise in hospitality management and education, human resource management, linguistics, modern languages, gastronomy, history, human geography, art, architecture, and sociology. Each lends their expertise to apply as a lens through which to view, analyse, and explore hospitality within a range of international contexts. Through this process of novel and pioneering ways of interpreting, knowing, and understanding emerge, which are captured in the final chapter of the book, and inform future research themes that are outlined. The consequence is to generate new ways of thinking and a wider appreciation of world views on the concept of hospitality as broadly conceived. It is anticipated that the ‘social lens’ approach has the potential to inspire readers intellectually, hence stimulating their thirst and quest for knowledge hospitality.
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Chapter 1
Hospitality: An Introduction Conrad Lashley, Paul Lynch and Alison Morrison
‘… both old and young alike ought to seek wisdom, the former in order that, as age comes over him, he may be young in good things because of the grace of what has been, and the latter in order that, while he is young, he may at the same time be old, because he has no fear of the things which are to come’. Epicurus, Extract from Letter to Menoeceus (Circa 300BC)
Introduction Since the publication of In Search of Hospitality: Theoretical Perspectives and Debates (Lashley & Morrison, 2000) there has been growing international interest in the study of hospitality from a number of social science perspectives. That publication represented the culmination of a discussion group based on academics from the field of hospitality management education. However, increasingly the study of hospitality has included academics from many fields of study in the social sciences and arts. For example, theologians (Pohl, 1999, Koenig, 1985), sociologists (Goffman, 1969; Douglas, 1975; Bourdieu, 1984; Finkelstein, 1989; Featherstone, 1991; Bell & Valentine, 1997; Beardsworth & Keil, 1997; Ritzer, 2004; Warde & Martens, 2000), historians (White, 1970; Heal, 1990; Strong, 2002; Walton, 2000), anthropologist (Selwyn, 2000), and philosophers (Derrida, 2002; Telfer, 1996). Clearly many of these distinguished academics recognise the potential value of studying hospitality from perspectives not traditionally concerned with management of commercial hospitality service organisations. This is reflected in the content of this book, which should not be considered as a replacement for the earlier one. Indeed, the editors are convinced that many of the chapters in the first contribution have current relevance and deserve to be read as a companion to this text. That said, there is evidence of advancement and development of knowledge pertaining to the phenomenon of hospitality during the intervening years between the two publications. For example, one aspect explored In Search of Hospitality was that of definitional debates relative to what is Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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‘hospitality’. Brotherton and Wood (2000) proposed that it can be differentiated from other forms of human exchange, and is defined by Brotherton (1999, p. 168) as: ‘A contemporaneous human exchange, which is voluntarily entered into, and designed to enhance the mutual well-being of the parties concerned through the provision of accommodation, and/or food and/or drink’. More recently, Morrison and O’Gorman (2006, p. 3) offered the following more multifaceted definition: ‘It represents a host’s cordial reception, welcome and entertainment of guests or strangers of diverse social backgrounds and cultures charitably, socially or commercially with kind and generous liberality, into one’s space to dine and/or lodge temporarily. Dependent on circumstance and context the degree to which the hospitality offering is conditional or unconditional may vary’. What is evident is the extent to which the study of hospitality is gaining momentum, depth, critical mass, and maturity indicating its significance as a fertile and substantial research domain.
Hospitality Studies As the hospitality academic field has matured, alternative schools of thought have evolved (Jones, 2004; Lashley, 2004; Litteljohn, 1990), one of which is that of hospitality studies. This facilitates the analysis of hospitality as business and a cultural phenomena; not necessarily unrelated; a view supported by Wood (1999), Lashley (2000), and Airey and Tribe (2000). Furthermore, it is apparent that the study of hospitality can usefully co-exist with a hospitality management school of thought, as the difference between them is essentially one of the emphasis (Jones, 2004). Hospitality studies allow for the intellectual pursuit of the social dimensions, alongside those of an economic nature. Consequently, opportunities are presented to surface novel areas worthy of study, and moving previously peripheral hospitality themes towards the centre of interest and into the mainstream of the social sciences debate (Brotherton, 1999). In this respect, Lashley (2000) made a worthy contribution in offering a three-domain model as a means of commencing the understanding of such a broader conceptualisation of hospitality. It recognised that the root of the study is the relationship between hosts and guests. He provided a simplistic but useful framework within which to locate hospitality studies. The three inter-related domains consist of social and cultural, private or domestic, and commercial. At a social and cultural level, different societies require varying degrees of obligation to be hospitable with duties and obligations on both guests and hosts. Importantly, these obligations do change over time as a result of ‘modernity’ or increased contact with tourists. For example, many of those approaching the study of hospitality from social science disciplines are interested in relationships not only between host communities
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and between tourists, but also migrants and asylum seekers (Hage, 2005; Garcia & Crang, 2005). On the private or domestic level, individuals learn about hospitality in the home settings which may be seen by some as producing more genuine and authentic hospitality. Also at work in this domain is the quasi-commercial operation of micro and small hospitality firms offering accommodation and nourishment within their home space, intrinsically merging domestic and private with that of the commercial. The commercial domain represents the industrialisation of hospitality based on economic business models. Interwoven are elements of the other two domains that socially structure the meanings, values, and emotional dimensions of host and guest relations and service interactions, understanding of which has the potential to inform and enhance effective competitive strategy. Consequently, Lashley (2004, p. 15) sums up the debate between an emphasis on management versus that of studies, as follows: ‘the study of hospitality allows for a general broad spectrum of enquiry, and the study for allows studies that support the management of hospitality’. This statement explicitly acknowledges that the intellectual growth and progression of hospitality as an academic field of study is best served through the critical analysis of the concept of hospitality as broadly conceived. Important is the emphasis placed on the adoption of critical perspectives about which there has been a growing debate within the hospitality management field of study. It is argued that this needs to inform the intellectual stance adopted in research and teaching activities, and that critical thinking skills should be developed in students being prepared for careers in the hospitality industry sector. In this respect, Morrison and O’Mahony (2002, p. 196) in their discussion of a liberal approach to undergraduate education for hospitality management curricula conclude by stating: ‘It is proposed that there is potential that traditional management may be challenged, inherited rituals questioned, and breakout from historical mindsets achieved to revitalise the future rather than simply replicate the past’. Botterill (2000, p. 194) augments this by saying that the status of the field could be increased as: ‘Critical social science promises, therefore, to provoke, in this case to raise the status of hospitality and thereby elevate the interests it represents, including, ironically, the hospitality industry’. Thus, equally valued are the study of hospitality and the study for hospitality management within a critical analysis framework, for as Morrison and O’Mahony (2003, p. 39) highlight a blend of schools of thought have ‘potential to generate new ways of thinking and a wider appreciation of world views’.
Critical Perspectives Kurland (1999) defines critical perspectives as being concerned with reason, intellectual honesty, and open-mindedness, as opposed to emotionalism, intellectual laziness, and closed-mindedness. A stance supported by the above debate. Brotherton and Wood (2000), and Morrison (2002), propose that for those immediately concerned with the education of hospitality management practitioners, it is strongly argued that broadening the study of hospitality to incorporate more liberal, social science and critical perspectives can better inform the management of hospitality. Furthermore, Morrison (2002, p. 163) says that: ‘If hospitality management research is to progress, those associated with it must reflect more deeply over its essential nature and practical manifestations’, while Brotherton and Wood
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(2000) argue that there is an urgent need for both researchers and practitioners to challenge complacency and unquestioning mindsets. Morrison (2002, p. 163) goes on to say that as a field of study hospitality, ‘… may benefit from introspection in the sense that it’s very epistemological basis and the conceptualisation of its nature, incidence and forms … to liberate it from current functionalism’. Moreover, the need for an escape from a ‘tyranny of relevance’ has been highlighted (Airey & Tribe, 2000, Taylor & Edgar, 1996), with Lashley (2004, p. 13) arguing that: ‘the tyrants of the relevant should not be allowed to deflect them from responsibilities to empower students through education and the pursuit of knowledge’. This involves a shift of mind set from a preoccupation with management and relevance to industry which can be an intellectual cul-de-sac, or as Botterill (2000, p. 193) describes it, ‘a closed expert system in which experts speak to experts in an ever decreasing circle, defending conventional ways of gaining knowledge’. Greater understanding of, and contact with, academics in the social science and arts is essential if the hospitality field of study is to escape this closed system. In particular, engagement with critical perspectives is the key to future development, because a consequence is that conventionalism limits imagination and endeavour. By way of illustration, Lashley and Watson (1999) confirmed many of these more generic observations. They found that much of the applied research studying the management of people within the hospitality industry was concerned with a managerial agenda, and dominated by technocratic and pragmatic research topics. These aimed at informing management practice without ever, or rarely, questioning the likes of the nature of management, the consequences of organisational power, or cultural and political barriers. Critical perspectives can be informed by critical theory which reflects a human interest in emancipation from accepted orthodoxy through criticism and liberation, reflecting on existing knowledge. The term critical theory was defined by Horkheimer (1937) of the Frankfurt School of social science. He proposed that critical theory is social theory oriented towards critiquing and changing society as a whole, in contrast to the traditional theory oriented only to understanding and explaining it. Central to this notion is that critical social theory integrates all of the major social science theories that help grasp the major dimensions of society (Horkheimer, 1972). Although this conception of critical theory originated with the Frankfurt School, it also prevails among some other recent social scientists, such as Bourdieu and Foucault. In recent years critical theory has become an umbrella term for an array of theories within the academic world. Ultimately critical theories have focused on the synthesis, production, or construction by which the phenomena and objects of human communication, culture, and consciousness come about (Kellner, 1989). In short, critical theory provides a series of tools for exploring human actions and views of the world in which these actions take place (Calhoun, 1995). Thus, the relevance of critical theory to this text is that academics are increasingly questioning prevailing business and management conceptions of hospitality, reflecting a growing dissatisfaction with the manner in which it offers only a partial understanding of the phenomenon. Advocating for a critical perspective represents a move towards plural social lenses through which to view and understand hospitality. This offers a multi-disciplinary approach which combines social science perspectives, thus overcoming the bounded nature endemic to the academic field of hospitality management in order to address issues of the phenomenon of hospitality as broadly conceived. Thus, critical theory questions
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imposed academic divisions that separate hospitality from social theory encapsulated in other disciplines. It transgresses established disciplinary boundaries and creates new critical discourses that avoid the deficiencies of hospitality as bounded by, and reduced to, the unitary perspective of a commercial domain. Thus, through social inquiry, critical theory seeks connection with the historic and contemporary world, and social movements and behaviours that construct hospitality, concerned as it is with the social life of human beings (Sim & van Loon, 2001). This linkage between critical theory and explanations of social actions and forms in the way they influence presuppositions about inquiry is an important one. Simmons (2004, p. 6) provides the following overview: ‘In a more general sense, however, critical social theory, refers to qualitative theories which adopt hermeneutic strategies in seeking to interpret and understand social action in contrast to quantitative approaches, and at the same time evaluate as well as describe and explain social action’. It enables the study of hospitality through the meanings associated with it by the various participants in hospitality transactions. Lynch’s work (2005) exploring the experiences of being a guest in small hotels and guests houses, for example, provides insights into the use of public and private spaces in the ‘commercial home sector’. Of note, he suggests that there are some interesting conflicts of meanings and intents between hosts and guests. Often guests chose this form of accommodation because they wish to experience ‘genuine hospitality’ with a ‘real family’, while hosts frequently want to maintain their own private space which is excluded from their paying guests. Randall’s (2000) contribution on the meanings created by television food programmes also adopts a critical theory perspective. She uses the work of Bourdieu, developed to critically analyse literary, and cultural outputs to be able to point to signs and signifiers which develop meanings. Similarly work on special meal occasions (Lashley, Morrison, & Randall, 2005) employs semiotic analysis so as to build a picture of the ways individuals recount special meal occasions. Such research approaches employing language, symbolism, text and meaning have been influenced by the likes of Saussure (1916/1966), Mead (1934), and Barthes (1964), and allow for exploration and interrogation behind the veil of perpetuated notions of existing social and political structures. A further example of the use of language to influence social meanings and perceptions of activities can be provided in the use of the term hospitality to describe the commercial hotel and catering sector. Hospitality emerged in the USA in the late 1970s/early 1980s as a label for the industry, for the title of academic journals and subsequently for the field of study, and for academic departments, programmes and subject associations. Taking a more interpretive approach allows recognition of the word to convey meanings influenced by cultural, historical, domestic, and everyday manifestations of hospitality to describe activities which are founded on commercial relationships. The ‘hospitality industry’ suggests a relational dimension, that of providing hospitality, and its associated benefits of welcome, of security, of being a revered guest, etc. as a commercially driven activity. Hotels, restaurants, and bars are establishments which are recognised as offering goods and services at a price. Hospitality allows impressions to be created of emotional needs being met and benefits beyond the merely commercial. At the same time, hospitality has enabled academics to engage with a discourse that explores these wider meanings beyond the commercial spin intended in the first instance. Hospitality, therefore, represents an interesting paradox, as originally intended it was obfuscating and designed to mask the commercial
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purpose of the sector, yet at the same time it has opened up a rich pluralistic radical route of inquiry that can be used as a critique of commercial organisational practice. Furthermore, a critical theory approach to hospitality is not out of step with most other topics in social sciences and the arts. For as Simmons (2004, p. 8) says: ‘The bigger picture is that critical theory made inroads into almost all of the arts and social science departments during the 1980s and 1990s from accountancy to art history, from management to media, from religious studies to rhetoric’. Like other fields of study, critical theory within the hospitality field should at least be recognised as part of the intellectual terrain. A critical understanding of hospitality is emancipating, enriching our collective understanding of the whole and thereby recognising a world of ideas that extend beyond mere pragmatism and functional mind sets. For example, Botterill (2000) demonstrates this in discussing the mismatch between the economic importance of hospitality and tourism and their low political status as industries, saying: ‘To understand the mismatch between economic importance and political status requires a Marxist sense of the objectivity of the ideological structure. In this case an ideology that clearly contains an implicit ranking of economic activity and subordinates hospitality to other dominant interests despite the fact that it has overtaken those economic interests in importance. The social actors who construct the meaning of hospitality become, therefore, the target for the politically reflective practice of critical social science whose aim is to transform’ (2000, p. 194).
The Study of Hospitality Reactions to the direction of discussions and debates opened up by In Search of Hospitality: Theoretical Perspectives and Debates have been interesting, and on balance recognised the value of developing a theoretical underpinning to the field, which moves away from mere applied management studies. The development of reflective practitioners (Schon, 1983) or even ‘philosophical practitioners’ (Tribe, 2003) requires a more rounded appreciation of the field than merely developing the skills to manage. Thus, far from being another arcane academic argument of little value or limited importance to the hospitality industry or to management practice, the study of hospitality from these more tangential perspectives is essential for future academic understandings and the building of competitive strategy within commercial organisations. Through a more comprehensive understanding of the provision of hospitality and acts of hospitableness, commercial organisations are better able to recognise the emotional experiences involved and ensure that management practice focuses on their production. This recognises that hospitality is concerned with more than a service encounter (Lashley et al., 2005), and that concepts of hospitality can be usefully applied to build loyal customers as ‘commercial friends’ (Lashley & Morrison, 2003). The writings of Derrida (2002) and Derrida and Dufourmantelle (2002) on hospitality have been influential on a range of social science academics. Derrida uses ‘hospitality’ as a means of rethinking a range of political and ethical situations. Through his eyes, hospitality is viewed as a question of what arrives at the borders, in the initial surprise of contact with another, a stranger, a foreigner. In addition, historians (Walton, 1998, 2000, 2005), philosophers (Telfer, 2000, 1996), and those writing on comparative literature (Rosello, 2001) write about hospitality, some using Derrida’s work, others build on it. Although the
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guest–host relationship is central to the study of hospitality and overlaps with tourism, social science studies have used hospitality concepts to explore the relationship between host communities and their relationships with non-hosts such as immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees (Molz, 2005; Garcia & Crang, 2005). Gibson’s (2005) work used hospitality as a way of exploring relationships between guards and inmates in a prison context. Robinson, Lynch, and Conn (2005) provided some interesting insights into hospitality by the use of literary criticism to analyse poetry using hospitality as context. This again underlines the growing interest in hospitality as an academic subject from a wide range of academic disciplines. Academics in the ‘hospitality management’ field can only enrich their intellectual pursuits, knowledge creation process, and educational experience to which their students are exposed through engaging in the spectrum of literature of different genre. As introduced earlier in this chapter, Lashley’s (2000) three-domain approach exposes that the study of the responsibilities associated with being a good host are a feature social constructs which are rooted in a society’s culture. In the so-called modern societies the duty to protect guests, to provide succour, to take in the poor and share food and drink and provide secure accommodation to guests may be less explicitly pronounced than in preindustrial societies. The strength of these obligations are, however, still relevant today in most parts of the world. At the time of writing, for example, the person responsible for betraying Sadam Hussein’s sons to US forces in Iraq is himself a fugitive, because his tribe claim that he dishonoured them by betraying his two guests to their enemy. He broke the tribe’s sacred code of hospitality, to provide protection to those who were guests in his own home. In this case, the two sons were killed during the attack by US troops on the house in which they were sheltering. The individual concerned clearly preferred to take the $25 million reward. The changing nature of perceptions of guests and the rigidity of obligations for hosts to meet socially defined standards of hospitality is an important issue for future research in host and guest relations. Evidence from British history suggests that social and cultural obligations to be hospitable lasted into the Medieval period but began to break down in the 16th and 17th centuries. Several of Shakespeare’s plays use the dishonouring of the laws of hospitality as a device to increase the villainy of a character’s actions. For example, the killing of Duncan while he is a guest in Macbeth’s house, the blinding of Buckingham by King Lear’s sons-in-law leads him to cry out: ‘But you are my guests’. Contemporary audiences would have understood that these acts were breaking the laws of both hosts to protect their guests, and of guests to act honourably to their hosts. Obligations in Western societies to behave honourably as guest or host may not have the same cultural sanction as they once had, but they still exist in a modern mode of operation. Furthermore, these obligations to be hospitable have changed as a result of increased travel and the emergence of commercial provision to support travellers has developed. Certainly, there are important lessons to be learnt from the study of the social and cultural domain of hospitality. First, different societies will have degrees of culturally defined obligations to be hospitable. Some cultures will require individuals to meet certain levels of expectation to offer hospitality to strangers. Thus, different societies will be more or less predisposed to be hospitable to the stranger/tourist. Second, obligations to offer hospitality to strangers changes over time. Increased contact with visitors appears, particularly in commercial tourist contexts, to change these obligations to be hospitable. Familiarity, it seems,
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can breed contempt. Thirdly, it is possible to re-introduce frontline hospitality and tourist staff to these obligations to be hospitable through training and management practice. Walton’s (2005, 2000, 1983) various works on the history of British seaside resorts confirms the reluctance of sections of the seaside host community to accept visitors. Local populations made up of large numbers of retirees, for example, often acted as a brake on the ability of the local tourism industry to adapt and change with changes in consumer demands. Retirees making up a rate-payer lobby, would actively limit tourism industry attempts to attract more tourists to the town through the development of new visitor attractions. The private domain of hospitality has recently provided the source to some interesting studies over recent years. On one level, the domestic environment is an important arena for learning about receiving guests and the obligations of the host. Half the accounts of ‘special meal occasions’ (Lashley et al., 2005) were located in domestic settings, and the language of domestic hospitality was used to evaluate hospitality in commercial settings, ‘they made me feel at home’ for example. O’Mahony’s (2003) profile of five leading restaurateurs in Australia suggested that learning about food and dining in the home was a common source of motivation. In some cases, learning to cook with a mother or grandmother was an important source of skill. In other cases, the experience of food and drink, and hosting, provided a source of inspiration that became invaluable when they entered the restaurant business. Drawing on another perspective, many hospitality businesses are themselves ‘commercial homes’ (Lynch & MacWhannell, 2000). Commercial homes (Lynch, 2005) in guest houses, bed and breakfasts establishments, farm-stay properties and small hotels in particular involve guests staying in the same dwelling as the host. Lynch and MacWhannell provide a useful model for understanding the relationships between paying guests and hosts depending on the degree to which they share domestic private space. Although the interface between resident guest and host is at their sharpest in the accommodation sector, pubs, inns and bars, and some restaurant and café businesses have close links between the home and the commercial activity. Many of these quasi-commercial firms can be described by the label ‘lifestyle’, run by people who want to have more control of their lives, or who ‘like the life’, and ‘make a reasonable’ living. Often the domestic setting is seen as ‘not having to work’, or presents a business opportunity where their life skills, learnt in the home provide them with an opportunity to ‘work at home’ (Lashley & Rowson, 2005). The overlap between the commercial provision within a domestic setting, being paid to provide hospitality, is at the heart of the operator’s dreams. There has been on-going debate, in particular, about the extent to which commercial hospitality can be authentic when compared with private or domestic hospitality. Warde and Martens (2001) for example, in their interviews covering dining experiences said that interviewees tended to regard commercial dining experiences as being less authentic than those in domestic settings. Certainly, the philosophy of hospitableness suggests that the ulterior motives associated with commercial hospitality might reduce the genuine quality of hospitableness. While recognising this as a potential tendency, Telfer (2000) proposes that it is not inevitable that commercial hospitality is inhospitable. She suggests that individuals who are naturally hospitable may be attracted to work in the sector and provide hospitable behaviour. She also points out that many small firms could be operated for other than commercial reasons and these may offer genuinely hospitable experiences. Lashley
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et al. (2005) found that interviewees were able to recognise hospitality experiences as being genuine in both commercial and domestic settings. Interestingly, both appeared to be identified as having authenticity, though the language of domestic hospitality was used to evaluate experiences in commercial settings. Of note, emotional requirements to feel safe and secure, welcome and genuinely valued dominate the assessment of authenticity in both settings. Ritzer (2004, 1993) suggests that there are ‘McDonaldizing’ and globalising tendencies, particularly in corporate hospitality provision that will create increased ‘inhospitable hospitality’ in the commercial sector. The relationship, therefore, between private or domestic, and commercial settings of hospitality provides some interesting insights into hospitality and some exciting avenues for research. The commercial domain is clearly influenced by these social and cultural, and private or domestic domains of hospitality. It is important that those studying hospitality recognise the interplay of both the cultural and domestic on the commercial provision of hospitality. It is also vital that commercial providers develop a more subtle understanding of hospitality so as to focus on building long-term customer relationships. Successful hosts are able to engage customers on an emotional and personal level, which creates feelings of friendship and loyalty among guests (Lashley & Morrison, 2003). Telfer (2000) is astute in saying that commercial hospitality need not be inevitably inhospitable, there are many examples of those managing hotels, pubs, coffee shops, and restaurants who provide generous and warm feelings among their clients because they recognise the key importance of customer experiences, and the need for these to be genuinely felt. Conversely, Ritzer makes a powerful criticism of corporate providers who ultimately prioritise shareholder interests above those of guests/customers, employees, and other stakeholders.
Multidisciplinary Perspectives The foregoing has clearly demonstrated the vitality, expansion, and development of the study of hospitality. In summary, the forces at work originate from a number of directions including: • Maturity within the hospitality management field, intellectually advancing through engagement in a broader spectrum of inquiry, emancipating the previous closed system, reductionist, and unitary approaches through criticism and liberation, and reflecting on existing knowledge; • Belief that more critical perspectives drawing on the breadth of the social sciences can better inform the management of hospitality; and • A questioning of orthodox, conventional wisdom and rhetoric, challenging complacent mind-sets, drawing attention to novel and previously peripheral hospitality associated areas worthy of study, and moving into the mainstream of social sciences debate. These forces are reflected in the following chapters in two ways. The first attempts to explore hospitality and the relationship between host and guest as a phenomenon in its own right. The second aims to investigate the social construction of hospitality through human actions and the relationship between human actions through an understanding of hospitality and the relationships between hosts and guests.
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The work of O’Gorman (Chapter 2), Sherringham and Daruwalla (Chapter 3), and Santich (Chapter 4) explore the philosophical, ethical, and cultural dimensions of hospitality. O’Gorman’s chapter provides a historical insight into religious and cultural obligations for hosts and guest in Greek, Roman, and early Christian settings. In all three contexts, hospitality and the mutual obligations associated with the provision of hospitality had both cultural and religious dimensions. Citizens were expected to behave honourably as hosts and guests as an expectation of civilised behaviour, and as the way ‘we do things’. In addition, being hospitable was a sacred activity through which individuals associated themselves with pious behaviour. In all cases, the requirement to treat the stranger with honour was linked with the potential that the stranger was an angel or the ‘god in disguise’. Religious definitions of sacred and holy actions included requirements to be hospitable to strangers and act with honour as guests. Sherringham and Daruwalla‘s chapter also discusses cultural obligations to be hospitable as being supported by definitions of moral and virtuous acts. Furthermore, their contribution explores the relationships inherent in these obligations to highlight power differentials between powerful hosts and vulnerable guest, and the tensions inherent in obligations to share with ‘the other’ in contemporary contexts dependent on market relationships and the widespread fear of global strangers. Santich explores these cultural linkages through the lens of the culture of food and drink consumption in gastronomy. Fundamentally, the act of eating and drinking which is the primary focus of gastronomy also involves acts of hosting and the manners of being guests. All three of these chapters, therefore, develop understanding of hospitality as moral obligations defining social and cultural expectations about how to behave as hosts and guests. In Chapter 5, Cole shares an insight into one example of hospitality obligations within the Ngadh tribe in Indonesia. Intra-tribal hospitality is largely focused on reciprocity as different families in the tribe provide feasting in the understanding that they will be guests of their guest on another occasion. The interesting issue raised by the chapter is that when tourists come to visit, tribal members are obliged to give hospitality but individual tourists will not be around to reciprocate. Cole’s research suggests that tribe members currently see tourists as bringing news from the wider world and their visitors reflect positively on the social standing of the tribe, though this view may not prevail forever. It provides a fascinating insight into the interface between cultures whereby hosts extend their non-commercial hospitality to individuals who as tourists come to ‘gaze’ as part of commercial tourism, and on the face of it provide nothing in return. In fact, they are seen by the hosts as bringing benefits of status and knowledge of the world beyond. Picking up on the migration theme, O’Mahony(Chapter 6) exposes significant insights into migrant and ‘host’ relations in Australia. The mostly English colonial elite saw itself as the host community who were unwilling to absorb migrating Irish into elite activities and occupations. Of course, the Aboriginal communities who were the original hosts were rarely considered in these relationships. In fact, the English colonialists in Australia demonstrated many of the worst hospitality behaviours. First, as guests of the host Aboriginal inhabitants, they usurp their hosts and take ownership of the hosts land, and some cases enslave their former hosts. Then as hosts themselves, they fail to be hospitable to the incoming migrants. Given the opposition of the ‘English host’ community and
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unwillingness to be hospitable to their Irish guests, Irish migrants found occupations in the ‘hospitality industry’ in the various colonial hotels and pubs. Consequently, Melbourne, in the latter nineteenth century, witnessed a high concentration of former Irish migrants in the ownership and among the workforce of the city’s hotels and pubs. This represents a fascinating example of host and guest behaviour which resulted in the commercial sector developing around rejected guests. Ultimately, the colonial hosts become the guests of Irish migrants in hotels and pubs. Chapters 7–9 are concerned with hospitality and the concept of space. Bell’s offering discusses the concentration of public spaces around hospitality service experiences where by urban regeneration and development frequently incorporates bars, restaurants, clubs, and boutique hotels. In the regeneration of city centre spaces, in particular, hospitality experiences play a vital role in establishing and reinforcing lifestyle experiences, and thereby help to keep particular areas buzzing and trendy. They perform a vital role in reestablishing an area’s attractiveness. Wharton uses the architectural development of three hotels to show how hotel space is designed to create an ambience of hospitality experiences, and most importantly how the symbolism and the rhetoric of hospitality changes, adapting to meet developments in consumers expectations over time. Where Bell’s contribution explores the impact of hospitality venues collectively within the re-branding of an area, Wharton is more concerned with the physical internal structures and design features which shape guests’ experiences of individual buildings offering hospitality to hotel guests. Di Domenico and Lynch’s chapter is also concerned with hospitality space, but in this case in the form of a commercial home of a micro-business being operated as a guest house or hotel. Commercial homes represent a forum for both private and commercial acts of hospitality. Owners of small hotels, guest houses and bed and breakfast accommodation typically live on the same premises in which the commercial activity takes place. It is both home and ‘hotel’, and the setting for private hospitality hosting family and friends, and hosting paying guests. Here the demarcation or non-demarcation of space for paying guests, or the allocation of private space for the family help to shape the guest’s experiences and the extent to which their stay has been as part of a ‘real family’ or as a commercial activity. Chapters 10–12 adopt different angles on control in commercial hospitality environments. Ritzer’s chapter suggests that commercial hospitality operations, particularly in corporate contexts, develop a set of concerns which focus upon the needs on the corporate enterprise to meet market demands and financial objectives. The requirement to standardise, to control, as well as to extend predictability and calculability needs technocratic management systems that are essentially an anathema to generous spontaneous and personal dimensions generally associated with genuinely hospitable behaviour. As a consequence, Ritzer suggests that the hospitality industry has a growing tendency to be inhospitable. Robinson and Lynch’s chapter uses literary criticism to support Ritzer’s sociological analysis. Through the analysis of Ed McCabe’s poem they show how fast food restaurants manufacture, control, and process customers in a set of predicable procedures whereby customer tastes and expectations are first shaped and then processed to meet the needs of corporate operators. The Nixon and Warhurst chapter explores the commercial control of hospitality experiences through the selection and development of service staff that both ‘look good and sound right’. They argue that increasingly the use
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of aesthetic labour in commercial hospitality activities requires a defined employee appearance that goes beyond the uniform, or dress code. The person wearing the clothing is required to look and sound the ‘part’ as defined by the brand and the market it is supposedly servicing. To a certain degree, the implications of this chapter is at odds with the somewhat pessimistic perspectives of the Ritzer, and Robinson and Lynch’s chapters, because these definitions of looking good and sounding right by definition involve the recruitment of staff with social skills that support hospitable behaviour. That said, commercial organisations are managing hospitality experiences through an array of techniques. At one extreme the highly controlled, standardised and centralised approaches identified by Ritzer are useful where predictability and uniformity are important to service consumers. At the other extreme, some services need to be adaptable to meet specific and individual service needs. Here the employee’s performance requires to be adaptable and performance based upon the personal chemistry of guest and host. Aesthetic labour policies are an element of the approaches which extend organisational control while at the same time appearing to relax it. Through the application of aesthetic labour employees provide emotional confirmation to guests which supports hospitality establishments as a desirable place to be.
Conclusion The lines from the Greek philosopher, Epicurus, which head up this chapter, provide a laudable ambition for all those who enjoy and engage with the world of ideas. In this context, the ideas and the knowledge being developed are concerned with hospitality – the many dimensions and levels of the relationships between hosts and guests, and the words of Epicurus encourage open mindedness to seek knowledge for its own sake, and not to place limits on the boundaries of what is known. Critical theory provides a collective body of philosophical perspectives, concepts, and analytical tools through which to explore relationships between hosts and guests, hospitality, and acts of hospitableness. Critical theory covers an array of insights that are essentially hermeneutic which go beyond some of the more prosaic and positivistic approaches which stem from the hospitality industry and the management of hospitality provided in commercial operations in hotels, bars, and restaurants. The critical study of hospitality as a human phenomenon allows hospitality to be seen from a number of perspectives in the arts and social sciences. Hospitality studies viewed from these perspectives provide a social lens through which society and the actions of human beings can be better understood. The perception of host communities of guests from outside the community is in part an outcome of the way the community’s culture obliges members to be hospitable to strangers, or allows for the differentiation of the way in which some groups are to be offered hospitality. In certain contexts, tourists are deemed to be worthy of hospitality and welcomed as strangers, while asylum seekers and migrants are often treated as unworthy of hospitable treatment. But then as O’Gorman’s chapter demonstrates, there is nothing new in that. Finally, this introductory chapter concludes with a quote from Derrida, emphasising the
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endurance, centrality, and inordinate status of hospitality in culture and society, which should be respectfully mirrored in the academies of today and tomorrow. ‘Not only is there a culture of hospitality, but there is no culture that is not also a culture of hospitality. All cultures compete in this regard and present themselves as more hospitable than the others. Hospitality – this is culture itself’. (Derrida, 2002, p. 361)
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Kellner, D. (1989). Critical theory, marxism and modernity. Polity Press and John Hopkins University Press, Cambridge and Baltimore. Koenig, J. (1985). New testament hospitality: Partnership with strangers as promise and mission. Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Kurland, J. (1999) Toward an evolution of the mind: Implications for the faithful? Zygon, 34(1), 67–92. Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Lashley, C. (2004). Escaping the Tyranny of relevance: Some reflections on hospitality management education. Paper presented at CAUTHE 2004, Alice Springs. Lashley, C., & Morrison, A. (Eds). (2000) In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Lashley, C. & Morrison, A. (2003). Hospitality as a ‘Commercial Friendship’. Hospitality Review 6(3), 31–36. Lashley, C., Morrison, A., & Randall, S. (2005). More than a service encounter? Insights into the emotions of hospitality through special meal occasions. Journal of Hospitality and Tourism Management, 12(1), 80–92. Lashley, C. and Rowson, B. (2005). Developing management skills in blackpool’s small hotel sector: A research report for England’s North West Tourism Skills Network. Nottingham: Nottingham Trent University. Lashley, C., & Watson, S. (1999). Contemporary hospitality research: Human resource management In B. Brotherton Ed. The handbook of contemporary hospitality management research. Chichester: Wiley. Litteljohn, D. (1990). Hospitality research: Philosophies and Progress. In R. Teare, L. Moutinho, Morgan, N. (Eds) Managing and marketing services in the 1990s (pp. 209–232). London: Cassell. Lynch, P., MacWhannell, D. (2000). Home and commercialized hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Lynch, P.A. (2005). Reflections on the home setting in hospitality. Journal of Hospitality and Tourism Management, 12(1), 37–49. Mead, G. (1934). Mind, self and society: From the standpoint of a social behaviourist. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Molz, J.G. (2005). Cosmopolitans on the Couch: Mobilising hospitality and the internet. Conference Abstracts, Mobilising Hospitality: the ethics of social relations in a mobile world, Lancaster University. Morrison, A. (2002). Hospitality research: A pause for reflection. International Journal of Tourism Research, 4, 161–169. Morrison, A., & O’Gorman, K. (2006). Hospitality studies: Liberating the power of the mind. Paper presented, CAUTHE 2006, Melbourne. Morrison, A., & O’Mahony, B. (2002). Hospitality: A liberal introduction. Journal of Hospitality and Tourism Management, 9(2), 189–197. Morrison, A., & O’Mahony, B. (2003). The liberation of hospitality management education. International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management, 15(1), 38–44. O’Mahony, B. (2003). Social and domestic forces in commercial hospitality provision: A view from Australia. Hospitality Review, 54, 37–41. Pohl, C. (1999) Making room: Recovering hospitality as a Christian tradition. Glen Stassen: Eerdmans.
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Randall, S. (2000). Mediated meanings of hospitality: Television personality food programmes. In C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Ritzer, G. (1993). The MacDonaldization of society. Thousand Oaks. CA: Pine Forge. Ritzer, G. (2004). The Mcdonaldization of society revised new century edition. Thousand Oaks. Pine Forge Press. Robinson, M., Lynch, P., & Conn, S. (2005). Hospitality through poetry: Control, fake solidarity and breakdown, 14th CHME Research Conference Proceedings, Bournemouth: Bournemouth University. Rosello, M. (2001). Postcolonial hospitality: The immigrant as guest. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Saussure, F. (1916/1966). Cour de Linguistic Generale. New York: McGraw-Hill. Schon, D. (1983). How professionals think in action. New York: Basic Books. Selwyn, T., (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In C. Lashley, & A. Morrison, (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Sim, S., & van Loon, B. (2001). Introducing critical theory. Royston: Icon Books. Simmons, J. (2004). Contemporary critical theorists: From Lacan to Said. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Strong, R. (2002). Feast: a history of grand eating. London: Pimlico. Taylor, S., & Edgar, D. (1996). Hospitality research: the emperor’s new clothes? International Journal of Hospitality Management, 15(3), 211–27. Telfer, E. (1996). Food for thought, philosophy of food. London: Routledge. Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness. In Lashley, C. & Morrison A. (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Tribe, J. (2003). The philosophical practitioner. Annals of Tourism Research, 29(2), 338–357. Walton, J. K. (1983). The English Secside Resort: a social history, Leicester University Press, Leicester. Walton, J. K. (1998). Blackpool. Edinburgh: Keele and Edinburgh University Press. Walton, J. K. (2000). The British seaside: Holidays and resorts in the twentieth century. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Walton, J. K. (2005). Histories of tourism. Clevedon: Channel View Publications. Warde, A. & Martens, L. (2000). Eating out: Social differentiation, Consumption and Pleasure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Warde, A., & Martens, L. (2001). Dining out. London: Sage. White, A. (1970). Palaces of the people: A social history of commercial hospitality. New York: Taplinger. Wood, R. (1999). Traditional and alternative research philosophies. In B. Brotherton (Ed.), The handbook of contemporary hospitality management research (pp.3–18). Chichester: John Wiley.
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Chapter 2
Dimensions of Hospitality: Exploring Ancient and Classical Origins Kevin D O’Gorman
Introduction Hospitality has an ancient origin and honourable tradition. As more attention is being channelled towards seeking a greater understanding of hospitality, there is an increasing debate between academics working in the field of hospitality management and those from the wider fields of the social sciences. The hope has already been expressed that this is ‘a beginning from which the subject will grow and develop’ (Lashley & Morrison, 2000‚ p.xvi). The aim of this chapter, therefore, is to contribute to this debate by providing a summary of findings from a continuing investigation into the historical origins of hospitality. The chapter explores the origins of hospitality in the ancient and classical worlds, focussing mainly on the Greek and Roman civilisations. The time period upto 500 BC is generally referred to as the ancient world, and the time period from 500 BC to 500 AD is generally referred to as the classical world. After considering the etymology of hospitality, the chapter goes on to explore the pre history of hospitality, investigating religious and mythical writings. The chapter illustrates that hospitality began at home, and as cities and nation states evolved so did hospitality; the chapter then explores civic hospitality and commercial hospitality. The evaluation of the outcomes leads to the identification of five dimensions of hospitality, which have been evolving from the beginning of human history. All modern words readily associated with hospitality are evolved from the same hypothetical Proto-Indo-European root *ghos-ti1 which means: stranger, guest, host: properly ‘someone with whom one has reciprocal duties of hospitality’ (American Heritage
1
When an * is placed before a word it shows that it is constructed, i.e. its existence has been deduced of by linguistic scholars and there is no written evidence to prove the existence of the word.
Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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Dictionary, 2001). The word guest came from the Middle English gest, evolved from Old Norse gestr, and from Old High German gast, both come from Germanic *gastiz. *Ghos-ti also evolved to the Latin root hostis, enemy, army, where host (multitude) and hostile find their origin; hostia, sacrifice, host (eucharistic). The combination of *ghos-ti and another Proto-Indo-European root *poti powerful, gave the compound root *ghos-pot-, *ghospo(d)-, which evolved to the Latin hospes and eventually into hospice‚ hospitable‚ hospital‚ hospitality‚ host (giver of hospitality)‚ hostage‚ and hostel. The Greek languages also evolved from the same Proto-Indo-European base, *ghos-ti gave the Greek xenos which has the interchangeable meaning guest, host, or stranger. Traditionally, the guest was the person with whom one had mutual obligations of hospitality; they were also the stranger, and a stranger could well be hostile. Strangers were feared because their intentions are often unknown, and they can appear as bearers of magical and/or mystical powers. The law or custom pertaining to the Ancient Greeks, of offering protection and hospitality to strangers is philoxenos, literally ‘love of strangers’; the antithesis of which is still in common English usage today: ‘xenophobia’. Hospitality then, ‘represents a kind of guarantee of reciprocity — one protects the stranger in order to be protected from him’ (Muhlmann‚ 1932‚ p.463).
Mythology and Pre-history of Hospitality The oldest collection of texts that refer to hospitality are from a literary genre known as Ancient Near East Texts. These texts belong to a large family of Eastern Mediterranean traditions from Mesopotamia, Asia Minor, Syria-Palestine, and Egypt. Normally these texts are seen in parallel with the Old Testament. Certain works date back to around 3500 BC, therefore they are as old as the history of writing itself. One example would be the Teachings of Khety. “Give the stranger olive oil from your jar, And double the income of your household. The divine assembly desires respect for the poor More than honour for the powerful”. (Khety 28 in Matthews‚ 1991‚ p.282) In this text and in others, there is a clear directive on how to treat strangers, and the rewards, both in the temporal sphere through befits to the household and the spiritual sphere, by pleasing the Gods. Another example, taken from over a millennium later, is from Ugarit in the Stories of Aquat (Matthews‚ 1991). Ugarit was an important commercial centre, on what is today, the northern coast of Syria. It connected the trade lanes between Egypt to the south, islands like Crete to the west‚ and Mesopotamia to the east. Culture followed Ugarit’s prosperity, especially between 1500 and 1250 BC‚ and from that time, come the stories of Aquat. The stories of Aquat portray him as a wise son and a wise hunter. Danil is Aquat’s father, Danatiya is his mother; Danil and Danatiya are unable to have a son until Baal, their divine patron, helps them. The story relates that immediately after the birth of his son, Danil thanks the gods by bestowing bounteous hospitality on the midwives (Aquat‚ 2:11–12 in Matthews‚ 1991‚ p.68).
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These texts provide examples of Ancient Near East hospitality, where the host is attentive to those they have found in their house. Other contemporaneous examples would include Egyptian funary inscriptions. In the Egyptian tradition hospitality to the stranger is of importance, as is seen from the quotation taken from the Papyrus of Ani; this is one of the prayers said by the sojourners in the afterlife, to appease the Gods upon arrival in the halls of judgement. “I have propitiated the God by doing his will, I have given bread to the hungry man, and water to him that was athirst, and apparel to the naked man, and a ferry-boat to him that had no boat. I have made propitiatory offerings and given cakes to the Gods ...” (Ani - Theban version about 1240 B.C. (Wallis Budge‚ 1895/1999‚ p.587)) In addition‚ a more readily and universally available collection of texts is the compilation known as the Old Testament of ‘Bible’. Judeo-Christian Writings Within the Old Testament, numerous references exist to the practice of hospitality and serve as hosts, and to treating human life with respect and dignity. In the Book of Genesis, God offers the newly created world as living space and its plants and trees as food to all living creatures; they are to be guests in God’s world and at God’s table. In other words, while enjoying God’s gracious provisions, God’s human guests are to preserve awareness of and respect God’s ultimate ownership (Janzen, 2002). The story goes on to relate the ‘fall of man’ and the expulsion from Eden. Adam and Eve eating from the forbidden tree is an act of disobedience therefore sin in this situation can be defined as disobedience. Janzen then makes the challenging observation that Adam and Eve are saying “we (humanity) want unlimited use and control of the world. In this light, sin can be described as the human attempt to be owners, rather than guests” (2002‚ p.6). In the Old Testament many laws specifically require hospitality and concern for strangers in particular “If you have resident strangers in your country, you will not molest them. You will treat resident strangers as though they were native-born and love them as yourself for you yourselves were once aliens in Egypt.” (Leviticus‚ 19:33–34) Other laws, often associated with those concerning strangers, assure good treatment of weak members of society, and laws concerning redemption are framed in accordance with the spirit of hospitality. In the story of Abraham (Genesis‚ 18:2–8), there is a classic hospitality event, when with his wife Sarah he shows gracious receptiveness to three strangers. The text records that when Abraham saw three simple nomads in the distance, he ran towards them to offer his hospitality. When Abraham greeted the strangers, he was not making a gesture of religious adoration, but simply a mark of respect. At first, Abraham sees his guests as humans, as their superhuman character is only gradually revealed. He welcomes them warmly and invites them into his tent, to rest a bit and to eat a little. When they followed him
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home, however, Abraham had a full course banquet prepared for them. Yet as great as Abraham’s hospitality might have been, he had to contend with a society that was literally the antithesis of everything he represented, the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were infamous for their cruelty and greed. Later (Genesis‚ 19:1–9) when the angels journeyed to Sodom and Gomorrah, in search of a righteous man, only Lot and his family were set apart to be saved. Lot was deemed righteous, by the fact that he alone imitated Abraham’s behaviour of hospitality. There are numerous legends about Sodom and Gomorrah. In relation to hospitality, there is another well-known legend, the people of the city had a special bed which they would offer to guests, and when the guests were too tall for the bed, they would cut off their feet and when they were too short, they would stretch their limbs. Illustrative examples of the many other hospitality events would include the second book of Kings and it is an unusual example of peacemaking: the prophet Elisha, exhorts the king of Israel to treat his Syrian prisoners of war to a meal, then send them home (2 Kings‚ 6:22–23). In the book of Job, when Job is swearing an oath of innocence, in his defence of his good life, listing all the sins he has not committed he places special emphasis on his practice of hospitality: “no stranger ever had to sleep outside, my door was always open to the traveller” (Job‚ 31:32). Additionally‚ when the Prophet Isaiah looks ahead to the end of time, he describes it as God’s eschatological banquet “a banquet of rich food, a banquet of fine wines, of succulent food, of well-strained wines” (Isaiah‚ 25:6–9). In the Old Testament, hospitality is central to virtually all of Old Testament ethics; God, the great host, invites his guests into his house, the created world, to enjoy its riches and blessings. However, the duties of the guest are clear too, the host expects these guests to follow His example and share their livelihood and their life, with their fellow guests on His earth. Greco–Roman Mythology In Ancient Greece, it was not known if the stranger knocking at the door was going to be hostile or hospitable, whether he was a God disguised, or watching from above and passing judgment. The deity could often leave without being recognised. This was not considered important for ‘it is hard for mortals to see divinity’ (Homer, Demeter‚ 1:111).2 Hospitality was a way of honouring the Gods, which was so essential, so fundamental to civilised life, that its patron was the God of Gods, Zeus himself: ‘Zeus is the protector of suppliants and guests, Zeus Xeinios, who attends to revered guests’ (Homer, Odyssey‚ 9:270–71). In true hospitality, it matters not who is the guest, nor their apparent status in life. Generous hospitality, freely given to a stranger was the same as offering it to a God. Reece (1993) in his analysis of the writings attributed to Homer (c. 900 BC) identifies 18 ‘hospitality’ scenes; typical of these is where Telemachos greets Athena: “… he saw Athena and went straight to the forecourt, the heart within him scandalized that a guest should still be standing at the doors. He stood beside her and took her by the right hand, and relieved her of the bronze spear, and spoke to her and addressed her in winged words: ‘Welcome,
2
For an explanation of this form of referencing see page 31f
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stranger. You shall be entertained as a guest among us. Afterward, when you have tasted dinner, you shall tell us what your need is” (Homer, Odyssey‚ 2:118–124) It is clear from this, and in conjunction with the other scenes in the Homeric writings, that hospitality brought expectations: a warm welcome‚ food‚ a comfortable place to sit‚ charming company‚ and entertainment. Since the traveller would not usually be wandering from their home into the dangers of the world, it was assumed they were on some mission. The host therefore was expected to be able to provide some form of assistance, thus ‘you shall tell us what your need is’. In the remainder of these scenes, there was normally a celebration to which the guest would have been entreated to join. Afterwards, the guest would be allowed to sleep, bathe, exchange gifts, and have a light departure meal. In many of the stories, the human hosts are rewarded with preferential treatment by the Gods because of their honourable behaviour. Odysseus, throughout his odyssey searches for xenia (in the sense of ‘hospitable reception’), in a wide variety of situations. On returning home, only those who have offered him hospitality are not killed. In the Homeric writings, the Gods, as well as the legendary human characters, like Telemachos and Odysseus, 20 primarily served as role models for the ancient Greeks who would have been expected to emulate the positive interactions between them. Accepting that hospitality was sacred in nature and should not be abused, certain violations of that code however could take place. The Greeks in some cases had particular words for some of these breaches: for example: xenodaites ‘one that devours guests’, a concept epitomised by the Cyclops ‘the guest-eating monster’ (Euripides, Cyclops‚ 659) and xenoktonos ‘slaying of guests and strangers’ (Liddell & Scott‚ 1940). These breaches of the hospitality code were seen as serious crimes, and like the Cyclops, those who were guilty were generally condemned by mankind and invariably had to suffer ‘painful consequences’ (Euripides, Hecuba‚ 1247 – 1250). Violations of hospitality also brought the wrath of the Gods. For example, Pausanias in his ‘Description of Greece’ warns that ‘the wrath of the God of Strangers is inexorable’ (Pausanias, Achaia‚ 7:25); the Greeks were reminded of these words when the Peloponnesians arrived and ransacked the city of Helice (373 BC), which Zeus then levelled through an earthquake. The Roman poet Ovid (43 BC–AD 17) wrote on topics of love, abandoned women, and mythological transformations. In Metamorphoses, Ovid told the story of the Gods Jupiter and Mercury who came to earth in human form and travelled around looking for a place to rest. After being turned away a thousand times, the Gods came upon the simple thatched cottage of Baucis and Philemon. Baucis and Philemon had little to offer, but generously shared what they had‚ a little bacon and ‘double-tinted fruit of chaste Minerva, and the tasty dish of corner, autumn-picked and pickled; these were served for relish; and the endivegreen, and radishes surrounding a large pot of curdled milk; and eggs not overdone but gently turned in glowing embers, all served up in earthen dishes. Then sweet wine served up in clay, so costly!’ (Ovid, Metamorphoses‚ 8:1026ff). They were about to kill their only goose to feed their guests, when the Gods revealed themselves. Jupiter and Mercury took Baucis and Philemon up the mountain to see the valley, in which the homes of all their neighbours, who had turned away the strangers, had been flooded. Their own simple home had been transformed into a temple, of which they then became the priests.
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There are certain parallels between the hospitality that Odysseus seeks, and the other hospitality scenes portrayed by Homer and those described by Ovid. Abraham was central to Old Testament hospitality; he showed unreserved hospitality to the strangers, only later seeing the true nature of his guests. Hospitality and in particular the treatment of strangers is then enshrined in the Old Testament, strangers have to be well treated, because the people themselves were strangers in a foreign lands. When Job was swearing his oath of innocence, in defence of his good life he makes special mention of his hospitable nature. A clear parallel can be seen between Job and the Egyptian sojourners in the afterlife; both were attempting to appease their Gods by verbalising their acts of hospitality. Throughout the whole of the Old Testament, the duties of hospitality are of paramount importance, seen all the way through to the ‘eschatological banquet’.
Hospitality and the Household In the writings of Homer, hospitality was centred round the oikos (home, household). The concept of household would also include slaves and illegitimate children. In addition‚ certain sections of society like valuable craftsmen, who do not themselves own land, but serve those in the oikos or vagabonds or exiles, who threaten instability to the oikos; and even Odysseus were also owed a duty of hospitality. The master of a household formed allegiances with the masters of other households (oikoi): through this tangible hospitality, their house grew in wealth, strength, and status which was measured against other households. Solon, the most famous of all ancient Greek lawgivers (born in Athens about 640 BC), is renowned for his repeal of the oppressive laws of Draco (the origin of the word draconian). Solon remodelled the constitution, removed the aristocracy’s oppression of the people and introduced the great body of the people to participate in the government. Solon placed great importance upon being hospitable and emphasised that hospitality and friendship should begin at home (Plutarch, Vita‚ 5:1). This home-based hospitality is a direct continuation of the hospitality centred on the oikos, as shown in the writings of Homer. In addition‚ Plato’s (c. 400 BC) dialogue in (Timaeus‚ 1:1) between Socrates and Timaeus clearly demonstrates the reciprocal nature of hospitality. Socrates had entertained three guests the day before, however one of them had taken ill, and Socrates observes that the others must supply hospitality to compensate. The guests agree and comment that in providing hospitality “we will do all that we can; having been handsomely entertained by you yesterday, those of us who remain should be only too glad to return your hospitality” (Plato, Timaeus‚ 1:1). As well as being reciprocal, hospitality was also hereditary. Euripides (c. 440 BC) refers to ‘tokens’ exchanged to show who was united in bonds of hospitality, these tokens could be passed down from generation to generation or they could even be exchanged between friends. These tokens guaranteed the same level of hospitality to friends and dependents as was enjoyed by those who made the original hospitality agreement (see Euripides, Medea‚ 613). Whereas Aristotle (c. 340 BC), in the Athenian Constitution (3:20) gives examples of the duties which led from having ties of hospitality, which included military alliances between households. It is clear that hospitality brought with it obligations, not only of friendship but also of duty. Hospitality also had to be carefully
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balanced between two extremes. The 3000-year-old advice given to Telemachos from King Menelaus is still pertinent today “I would condemn any host who, receiving guests, acted excessively hospitable or excessively hostile; all things are better in due measure. It is as blameworthy to urge a guest to leave who does not want to as it is to detain a guest who is eager to leave. One must grant hospitality to a guest who is present and grant conveyance to a guest who wants to leave” (Homer, Odyssey‚ 15:69–74)
Domestic Hospitality in Rome Hospitality in Rome was never exercised in the indiscriminate manner, as in the heroic age of Greece, but, the custom of observing the laws of hospitality was probably common to all the nations that make up modern day Italy. In many cases, it was exercised without any formal agreement between the parties, and it was deemed an honourable duty to receive distinguished guests into the house. Public hospitality, seems likewise, to have existed at a very early period among the nations, ‘throughout the City the front gates of the houses were thrown open and all sorts of things placed for general use in the open courts, all comers, whether acquaintances or strangers, being brought in to share the hospitality’ (Livy, History of Rome‚ 5:13). These kind and generous acts of hospitality, lead to long lasting friendships between the host and the guest. No doubt, it was from these personal bonds that the public ties of hospitality were later to be formed: ‘After recovering from their wounds, some left for their homes, to tell of the kind hospitality they had received; many remained behind out of affection for their hosts and the City’ (Livy, History of Rome‚ 2:14). Private hospitality with the Romans, similar in its nature to that of Greece, seems to have been more accurately and legally defined. According to Schmitz (1875) the character of a hospes, i.e., a person connected with a Roman by ties of hospitality, was deemed even more sacred, and to have greater claims upon the host, than that of a person connected by blood or affinity. The connection of hospitality with a foreigner, imposed upon a Roman various obligations. Amongst those obligations were: to receive in their house the hospes (traveller); ‘they enjoyed the hospitality of private citizens whom they treated with courtesy and consideration; and their own houses in Rome were open to those with whom they were accustomed to stay’ (Livy, History of Rome‚ 42:1). There were also duties of protection; and, in case of need, to represent a guest as his patron in the courts of justice. Private hospitality was established between individuals by mutual presents, or by the mediation of a third person, and hallowed by religion. In the same way as Zeus presided over hospitality conducted by the Greeks, Jupiter was thought to watch over the ius hospitia (law of hospitality) in the Roman Empire. Similarly the violation of hospitality was also as great a crime and impiety in Rome as it was in Greece. When hospitality was formed between two individuals they would divide between themselves a token called a tessera hospitalis (hospitality token), by which, afterwards, they themselves or their
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descendants, as the connection was hereditary, might recognise one another, for example, Plautus, Poenulus‚ 5:2:87ff. The tessera bore the image of Jupiter, emphasising Jupiter’s divine protection of hospitality; when this kind of hereditary hospitality was established, it could not be dissolved except by a formal declaration and in this case, the tessera hospitalis was broken into pieces (Plautus, Cistellaria‚ 2:1:27).
Civic Hospitality Xenophon (c. 400 BC), whose name means ‘strange sound’ or ‘guest voice’, was an Athenian knight, an associate of Socrates, and is known for his writings on Hellenic culture. While a young man, Xenophon participated in the expedition led by Cyrus against his older brother, the emperor Artaxerxes II of Persia‚ Cyrus hoped to depose his brother and gain the throne, but did not tell his mercenaries the true goal of the expedition. A battle took place at Cunaxa (c. 401 BC), where the Greeks were victorious but Cyrus was killed, and shortly thereafter, their general, Clearchus of Sparta, was captured and executed. The mercenaries found themselves deep in hostile territory, far from the sea, and without leadership. Crossing the high plateaux (modern-day Armenia), while hastening to the rescue of Cyrus, Xenophon described the loyal and hospitable people they met during their campaign. The people offered them what they had: cattle‚ corn‚ dried grapes, vegetables of all sorts‚ and fragrant old wines; details concerning the gifts of hospitality were as follows: “Here they sent the Hellenes, as gifts of hospitality, three thousand measures of barley and two thousand jars of wine, twenty beehives and one hundred sheep” (Xenophon, Anabasis‚ 6:1). Plato, in his ‘Laws’ (12:952d – 953e) detailed four types of stranger/guest from abroad who are to be welcomed but treated differently, according to their purpose, rank and station. These may be summarised as: • Merchant on trade or business: who is to be received by the officials in charge at the markets, harbours, and public buildings, outside of the city. The relationship is very limited, formal and businesslike, and the receiving officials are also responsible for ensuring the proper conduct of the merchant. • Cultural visitor to view artistic achievements, including musical performances: who is to be received at temples where friendly accommodation is to be provided. The relationship is formal and businesslike, with care and attention only for a reasonable time, and the priests and temple keepers are responsible for both the conduct of the visitor and of those that the visitor meets. • Civic dignitary on public business: who is to be received at civic receptions and by the generals and public officials. The relationship is formal and businesslike and the official with whom the dignitary lodges is responsible for their care and conduct. • Occasional high-status cultural visitor, who must be over 50 years of age, to view art objects, or to exhibit such objects: who is to be welcomed as a visitor of the rich and the wise, being themselves rich and wise. Also received by those in charge of education or those with special recognition for their artistic work. The relationship is formal but friendly according to high-level peer status.
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Plato also indicated that there should be conformity with the ‘Laws’ for all guest/strangers from abroad, and that the ‘Laws’ also apply when sending out the state’s own citizens to other states. The observance of these ‘Laws’ was doing honour to Zeus, Patron of Strangers, and was therefore seen as the only appropriate behaviour, rather than being unwelcoming to guests/strangers, which, by definition, is dishonouring Zeus. The ‘Laws’ also indicated that the relationships are formal ones, with legal obligations on both sides. In Homeric literature, hospitality was shown as a way of giving respect and showing honour; it was also non-judgmental of social status. However in Plato’s ‘Laws’, although hospitality for the visitor/stranger from aboard is welcoming, it is codified to provide reference points for provision of hospitality. Relations between the Greek city-states gave rise to the role of Proxenos, who was literally the ‘guest-friend’ of a city-state‚ looking after the interests of a foreign state in his own country‚ for example, the Spartan Proxenos in Athens was an Athenian citizen. The office of Proxenos was an ancient one, employed throughout the Greek world. The word xenos implies ‘guest’ or ‘foreigner’; however, in this context the general consensus among scholars, is that proxenia (the relationship of the Proxenos) is one of hospitality (see for example Phillipson‚ 1911; Ehrenberg‚ 1960; Adcock & Mosley‚ 1975; Pope‚ 1976). Domestic politics dominated the interests of citizens who had little use for diplomacy, since Greek citystates were essentially self-centred and insular. However, mutual ties of hospitality did exist between leaders of states and important families of other cities. These links brought about an informal diplomatic avenue of communication (Phillipson‚ 1911; Adcock & Mosley‚ 1975). The office of Proxenos was at first, probably, self-chosen. Thucydides in his recounting of the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BC) refers to volunteers, but the office was to become matter of appointment. These Proxenoi undertook various functions including the reception and entertainment of guests. Liddell and Scott (1940) suggest that they would also represent the guest in courts of law if necessary. The earliest reference to an Athenian Proxenos, who lived during the time of the Persian wars (c. 490 BC), is that of Alexander of Macedonia (Herodotus, Histories). It was not until the middle of the fifth century BC that the term Proxenos became common throughout Greece; the establishment of the institution is documented by numerous inscriptions from the last third of the fifth century BC (Wallace‚ 1970; Walbank‚ 1978). Gerolymatos (1986) asserts that there was also a clandestine side to the proxenia. It could function as both an overt and a covert intelligence system, as representatives of this institution were indeed in an ideal position to collect and transmit political and military information and also organise political subversion and sabotage; they could also arrange the betrayal of besieged cities to the forces of their patrons. Roman Public Hospitality The first direct mention of public hospitality, being established between Rome and another city, is after the Gauls had departed from Rome. It was decreed that the City of Caere should be rewarded for its good services (c. 273 BC) by the establishment of public hospitality between the two cities. ‘Friendly relations as between state and state were to be established with the people of Caere, because they had sheltered the sacred treasures of Rome and her priests, and this kind act had prevented any interruption to the divine worship’ (Livy, History of Rome‚ 5:50).
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The public hospitality after the war with the Gauls, gave to the Caerites, the right of hospitality with Rome. In the later times of the Roman Republic, the public hospitality established between Rome and a foreign state was no longer found‚ but a relation which amounted to the same thing was introduced instead, that is, towns were raised to the rank of municipia. When a town wanted a similar relationship with Rome, it entered into clientela with some distinguished Roman, he then acted as patron of the client-town. This hospitality, when shared between states, was applicable to individuals as well, ‘As they entered Capua the senate and people came out in a body to meet them, showed them all due hospitality, and paid them all the consideration to which as individuals and as members of an allied state they were entitled’ (Livy, History of Rome‚ 9:6). There was also the custom of granting the honour of hospes publicus (modern equivalent ‘Freedom of the City’) to a distinguished foreigner by a decree of the senate; this seems to have existed to the end of the Roman Republic. Whether such a public hospes undertook the same duties towards Roman citizens, as the Greek Proxenos, is uncertain. Public hospitality was, like the hospitium privatum (private hospitality), hereditary in the family of the person to whom it had been granted (Livy, History of Rome‚ 27:16).
Commercial Hospitality In the History of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides relates the events from 431 BC to 401 BC, and marked a significant departure from the literary style of historical writing. In the text is the word katagogion, which is taken to mean inn or hostelry and from the context could be understood to be one of the oldest references to commercial hospitality. It describes an “inn two hundred feet square, with rooms all round above and below” (Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, 3:68) that was built to give accommodation to travellers. The same word katagogion, appears in the writings of Xenophon. In this case they were constructed by the city-state for the shipowners, merchants and visitors and these hostels bestowed various benefits on the city-states. “When funds were sufficient, it would be a fine plan to build more hostels for ship owners near the harbours, and convenient places of exchange for merchants, also hostels to accommodate visitors. Again, if houses and shops were put up both in the Peiraeus and in the city for retail traders, they would be an ornament to the state, and at the same time the source of a considerable revenue” (Xenophon, Ways and Means, 3:12–13)
Commercial Hospitality in Ancient Rome Kleberg (1957) defined four principal categories of commercial hospitality establishments in ancient Roman: hospitia‚ stabula‚ tabernae‚ and popinae. These terms have become the standard for the archaeological categorisation of ancient hospitality businesses: • Hospitia were establishments that offered rooms for rent, and often food and drink to overnight guests (DeFelice‚ 2001). Packer (1978) asserts that hospitia were expressly
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fabricated for business purposes, although a number of them represent secondary uses of existing private homes in Pompeii. • Stabula had an open courtyard surrounded by a kitchen, a latrine, and bedrooms with stables at the rear. Businesses within city gates were smaller than those in the countryside, due to pressure of space (Packer‚ 1978). Casson (1974) observed that in Rome stabulae were probably the most common type of overnight accommodation. Stabula were hospitia with facilities to shelter animals‚ often found just outside the city, close to the city gates, the ‘ancient equivalent of modern motels’ (Packer‚ 1978‚ p.44) • Taberna, in the first century AD, referred to either a shop or a tavern, however in many publications, the term taberna refers to almost any kind of shop, so there is a good deal of confusion when compiling a list of such establishments from secondary sources (DeFelice‚ 2001). Tabernae, in their first century AD sense, served a variety of simple foods and drink. They usually contained a simple L-shaped marble counter, about six to eight feet long, with a simmering pot of water and shelves of other food on the back wall of a tiny room, often just large enough for the proprietor and several assistants (Kleberg‚ 1957; Casson‚ 1974; Packer‚ 1978). • Popinae were also establishments limited to serving food and drink. Some may have offered sit down meals; this term was often used to describe public eating-houses (Jashemski 1964). In summary then‚ tabernae and popinae had no facilities for overnight guests while hospitia and stabula usually did. Hospitiae were normally larger than stabulae and a stabula would have had accommodation to keep animals as well as guests. According to DeFelice (2001) Hospitiae, stabulae, tabernae, and popinae were not always stand-alone businesses‚ instead often a hospitia or stabula would have a taberna or popina connected with or adjacent to them. These commercial hospitality businesses existed for travellers, merchants, and sailors who came to trade and sell, or those who were stopping overnight along the way to other destinations. From the discussion about the reciprocal nature of private hospitality‚ it is already clear that not all travellers required such services. DeFelice (2001) asserts that hospitiae and stabulae along major roads and at city gates gained a reputation for attracting lower classes who were too poor or socially insignificant to have developed a network of personal hospitality: In other literature of the time hospitiae also had a reputation for bedbugs, discomfort, violence‚ and danger.
Dimensions of Hospitality This chapter has set out to explore the origins of hospitality by investigating evidence of hospitality, mainly within the Greek and Roman civilisations of the ancient and classical worlds, and also in the contemporaneous religious/mythological writings. The key influences affecting the attitudes towards hospitality in the societies considered are: religious practices and beliefs‚ the advancement of trade and commerce‚ transactional expectations‚ social status and the household‚ a system of communication‚ and the fear of strangers. From the exploration‚ clear parallels have been found between the texts and a variety of common features of hospitality are identified. Further evaluation of these outcomes leads to the
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identification of five dimensions of hospitality. The dimensions are honourable tradition‚ fundamental to human existence‚ stratified‚ diversified and, central to human endeavour. Honourable Tradition The common features of the honourable tradition dimension of hospitality are: • The concepts of guest, stranger, and host are closely related; • Hospitality is seen as essentially organic, revealing much about the cultural values and beliefs of the societies; • Reciprocity of hospitality is an established principle; • Providing hospitality is paying homage to the gods — a worthy and honourable thing to do — and failure is condemned in both the human and spiritual worlds. Hospitality is initially concerned with the protection of others in order to be protected from others. Additionally within the ancient and classical worlds, often reinforced by religious teaching and practice, hospitality is considered as an inherently good thing to provide, without any immediate expectation of an earthly reward. The vocational nature of hospitality is established through the concept of the provision of hospitality as paying homage to a superior being, or pursuing a higher ideal. This may provide a basis for the view that hospitality management should be recognised as a true profession because of its strong vocational origins. Even with this vocational influence, the concept of reciprocity — monetary, spiritual, or exchange — is already well established, as is the concept of failure in providing hospitality being viewed as both an impiety and a temporal crime. Fundamental to Human Existence The common features of the dimension of the fundamentalism of hospitality to human existence are: • Hospitality includes food, drink‚ and accommodation and is also concerned with the approach to be adopted, for example, welcoming, respectful and genuine; • Hospitality is offered and the extent or limitation of it is based on the needs and the purpose of the guests/strangers; • Alliances are initially developed through hospitality between friends, households, and states, and are strengthened through continuing mutual hospitality; • Hospitality once granted between individuals, households‚ and states is also granted to descendants and through extended friendships. Hospitality is a primary feature in the development of the societies that have been considered. It is an essential part of human existence, especially as it deals with basic human needs (food, drink, shelter‚ and security). It is also clear that the concept of the hospitality being based on meeting the needs that the guests have at the time, rather than the type of people that they are, is already established. Relationships between households and friends were developed through mutual hospitality between the original partners, and then subsequently given to their descendants, and their wider circle of friends. This also establishes the concepts of loyalty systems and continuing shared benefits.
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Stratified The common features of the stratification dimension of hospitality are: • Developments in the societies lead to the formal stratification of hospitality: the codification of hospitality being based on whether it was private, civic or business, and on the needs and purpose of the guest/stranger, and their nature or status; • Reciprocity of hospitality becomes legally defined; • Civic and business hospitality develops from private hospitality but retains the key foundations — treat others as if in their own home; • Hospitality management, in the civic and business sense, is established as being centred on persons responsible for formal hospitality, and also for protection of guest/stranger and ensuring their proper conduct. Hospitality has never been homogeneous. Since the earliest time, hospitality provision is increasingly codified. As the societies become more sophisticated, the codification of hospitality provides reference points for how to treat a range of guests/strangers, according to a variety of criteria. Typologies of hospitality also become apparent: private, civic, and business/commercial. Other features identified, which increasingly become more formal as the societies develop, include legal governance, more sophisticated approaches to codification, and the establishment of contractual relationships. Hospitality professionals emerge as civic and business hospitality develops, with particular individuals being recognised as having formal and defined responsibilities for hospitality. Diversified The common features of the diversification dimension of hospitality are: • Places of hospitality were initially differentiated primarily by the existence, or not, of overnight accommodation; • Individual places of hospitality either offer associated services, or are located near other places of hospitality; • Originally places of hospitality were for the lower classes‚ who did not have established networks of hospitality enjoyed by the higher classes; • Increasing travelling among the higher classes created demands for superior levels of places of hospitality. The needs of the host and the guest have always varied; hospitality therefore always had to be able to respond to a broad range of needs. The exploration of the ancient and classical worlds shows that the basis for a diverse range of types of establishments in order to meet the needs of the full spectrum of society is already developing. Although originally at lower levels, the provision of higher levels of hospitality establishment and service is a direct consequence of the ability of the higher classes to afford to travel to lands where they are not known, but it enables them to be in environments which are commensurate with their wealth and status, without the need to establish a household there.
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Central to Human Endeavour The common features of the dimension of the centrality of hospitality to human endeavour are: • Hospitality is a vital and integral part of the societies; • Shared hospitality is a principle feature in the development and continuation of friendships and alliances between persons, between communities, and between nations; • Hospitality is the focus for the celebrations of significant private, civic and business events‚ and achievements throughout life; • Hospitality is also foreseen as a principal feature of the end of time. Since the beginning of human history, hospitality is the mechanism that has been central to the development of the societies, at both the individual and collective levels. It is the catalyst that is used to facilitate all human activities, especially those that are aimed at enhancing civilisation. It is also identified as being the central feature of human endeavour and celebration, through until the end of time.
Looking Forward This chapter has presented a summary of findings from continuing research into the origins of hospitality, in the ancient and classical worlds. It is clear that the five dimensions of hospitality identified so far, have been evolving since the beginning of human history. It also seems that it is inherent in human nature to offer hospitality, and that the societies, and the contemporaneous religious teachings, support and reinforce this trait. The identification of the five dimensions of hospitality, as above, provides one way of interpreting the outcomes of the exploration that has been undertaken to date. Whatever the approach that might be used, it is certainly evident that hospitality has a long history, a honourable tradition, and a rich heritage. Exploring the origins of hospitality can aid the practitioner within the hospitality industry today‚ and the awareness of the past can always help to guide the future. The current increasing debate on and research into the origins of hospitality can enhance the future of the industry. Professionalism and greater expertise can surely come from a deeper understanding of the dimensions of hospitality, that have been evolving since antiquity, and on which the industry now relies. However, within a modern hospitality industry context, it may also be worth reflecting on the extent to which the hospitality being offered is honest and welcoming, or just transactional, with the guest seen merely as a source of revenue? Does there exist such a thing as a true hospitality industry host, with the intention of being genuinely hospitable?
References Adcock, F.E.‚ & Mosley, D.J. (1975). Diplomacy in ancient Greece. London: Thames and Hudson. American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. (2001) Boston Houghlin Mifflin. Casson, L. (1974). Travel in the ancient world. London: Allen and Unwin.
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DeFelice, J.F. (2001). Roman hospitality: The professional women of Pompeii. Warren Center: Shangri-La Publications. Ehrenberg, V. (1960). The Greek state. Oxford: Blackwell. Gerolymatos, A. (1986). Espionage and treason: A study of the Proxenia in political and military intelligence gathering in classical Greece. Amsterdam: Gieben. Hornblower, S., & Spawforth, A. (Eds). (2003). The Oxford classical dictionary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Janzen, W. (2002). Biblical theology of hospitality. Vision, A Journal for Church and Theology‚ 3(1), 4–15. Jashemski, W.F. (1964). A Pompeian Copa. Classical Journal, 59, 337–349 Kleberg, T. (1957). Hôtels, Restaurants et Cabarets dans L’antiquité Romaine: Études Historiques et Philologiques. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Lashley, C.‚ & Morrison, A. (Eds). (2000). In search of hospitality – theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Liddell, H.G., & Scott, R. (1940). A Greek-English lexicon compiled by Henry George Liddell and Robert Scott. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Matthews, V. H. (1991). Old Testament parallels: Laws and stories from the ancient near east. New York: Paulist Press. Muhlmann, W.E. (1932). Hospitality. In: E.R.A. Seligman (Ed.)‚ Encyclopaedia of the social sciences. New York: Macmillan. Packer, J.E. (1978). Inns at Pompeii: A short survey. Cronache Pompeiane. Rivista dell’Associazione Internazionale ‘Amici di Pompei’‚ 4, 5–53. Phillipson, C. (1911). The international law and custom of ancient Greece and Rome. London: Macmillan and Co. Pope, H. (1976). Non-Athenians in Attic inscriptions: Prolegomena and a prosopography. Chicago: Ares Publishers. Reece, S. (1993). The stranger’s welcome: Oral theory and the aesthetics of the homeric hospitality scene. Michigan: University of Michigan Press. Schmitz, L. (1875). Hospitium. In: W. Smith (Ed.)‚ A dictionary of Greek and Roman antiquities. London: J. Murray. Walbank, M.B. (1978). Athenian Proxenies of the fifth century BC. Toronto: S. Stevens. Wallace, M.B. (1970). Early Greek Proxenoi. Phoenix: The Journal of the Ontario Classical Association‚ 24, 189–208. Wallis Budge, E.A. (1895/1999). The Egyptian book of The dead. - The Papyrus of – Ani. New York: Random House.
Guide to Classical Texts References to ancient Greek and Latin, Biblical, and Patristic texts, employ the standard English-language citation system: the author’s name; followed by the conventional Latin name for the work, spelled out in full rather than abbreviated; and followed by Arabic numerals that guide the reader to chapter, paragraph, and line. For discussions of authors and their texts, please see The Oxford Classical Dictionary, edited by S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth, (Oxford, 2003). In the following list of ancient works cited in this book, the Loeb Classical Library. This ongoing series, which began in the early period in the last century, encompasses both Greek and Latin authors and provides the Greek or Latin text
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on the left-hand page, with a good English translation facing it; for texts not available in the Loeb series, a standard critical edition of the text has been cited. Aristotle, Athenian Constitution. Euripides, Cyclops.
Euripides, Hecuba.
Herodotus, Historia. Homer, The Odyssey. Homer, Demeter. Livy, Ab urbe condita.. Ovid, Metamorphose. Pausanias, Description of Greece. Plato, Laws. Plato, Timaeus and Critias. Plautus, Poenulus et Cistellaria.
Plutarch, Vitae Parallelae. Thucydides, Peloponnesian War Xenophon
The Athenian Constitution translated with introduction and notes by P.J. Rhodes. Penguin Books, Harmondsworth 1984. Electra, Orestes, Iphigeneia in Taurica, Andromache, Cyclops. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 10. Heinemann 1913. Iphigeneia at Aulis, Rhesus, Hecuba, The daughters of Troy, Helen. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 9. Heinemann 1912. Historia. Loeb Classical Library, Volumes 117 – 120. Heinemann 1920-1925. The Odyssey. Loeb Classical Library, Volumes 104 – 105. Heinemann, 1919. Hesiod, the Homeric hymns and Homerica. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 57. Heinemann 1914. Ab urbe condita. Loeb Classical Library, Assorted Volumes. Heinemann 1916 –1949. Metamorphoses. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 42 – 43. Heinemann, 1916. Description of Greece. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 93. Heinemann 1918. Laws. Loeb Classical Library, Volumes 187 - 192. Heinemann 1926. Timaeus and Critias. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 234. Heinemann 1929. Poenulus et Cistellaria in The little Carthaginian, Pseudolus, The Rope. Loeb Classical Library, Volume 163. Heinemann 1921 Plutarch. Plutarch's Lives. Loeb Classical Library, 11 Volumes 2d ed. Cambridge 1949 - 1959. History of the Peloponnesian War. Loeb Classical Library, Volumes 108 - 110. Heinemann 1919. Hellenica, Anabasis. Loeb Classical Library Volume 88 - 90. Heinemann 1919 -1922. Scripta Minora. Loeb Classical Library Volume 183. Heinemann 1925.
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Chapter 3
Transgressing Hospitality: Polarities and Disordered Relationships? Colin Sheringham and Pheroza Daruwalla
Introduction Hospitality is a negotiated act between host and guest, and can be described as transgressive in nature in that it infringes thresholds of physical, psychological and symbolic character. This chapter commences with an exploration of the concept of hospitality and the polarities inherent in the context of service provision. The notions of order and disorder are introduced with a view to explaining these seeming contradictions with aspects of status, inversion of roles, inclusion and exclusion and the co-existence of sacred and profane elements endemic to the hospitality encounter highlighting these conundrums. Religion, religiosity and culture are examined in relation to their value and dictums on roles played by hosts and guests. Contradictions between the nature of religiosity and bacchanalian aspects of food and alcohol consumption in both domestic and commercial hospitality are investigated. The chapter commences with an examination of the popular concept of hospitality as a symbolic interaction and the making of friends out of strangers (Selwyn, 2000, pp. 26–27). Recognising the two important elements inherent in hospitality, firstly, the social role of hospitality and secondly the disorder inherent in hospitality Selwyn says that ‘Acts of hospitality serve as one means of articulating social structures. They provide the symbolic means to enable people to leave and join social groups and for hierarchical structures to be at once celebrated and legitimated’. Honour, status and the quasi-sacred nature of host–guest relationships inherent in hospitality along with the obligatory and hierarchical nature inherent in hospitality also help define the concept of hospitality. These obligations in turn are linked to the hierarchies that support the hegemonic patterns attendant to this encounter. The role and recognition of the ambiguity and latent danger ever
Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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present in hospitality reinforce the realms of disorder attendant in the concept of hospitality as an ordered event. The recognition of the darker underbelly and the potential of transgression from order to disorder are important to the construction of the concept of hospitality provision. These views include hospitality and hostility as twin faces of the interaction with the ‘other’. This Janus like double facedness is reinforced in the etymology of the words host, hospitality and hostility (Visser, 1991), in that: • there is a fine line in acts of hospitality between moral duty and excess and • ‘while the essence of hospitality lies in sharing (food, lodging and entertainment), the very process of sharing may involve dominating too’ (Selwyn, 2000, p. 26). Hospitality as a negotiated interaction between host and guest is also a major underpinning construct. By its very nature it is not an act of unconditional giving but is measured in its scope and extensiveness. This is particularly relevant in modern contexts where hospitality as a service is viewed as a commercial transaction with certain conditions having to be met (Kotler, 2003). The conditions accompanying this negotiated (service) transaction include the exchange between two or more parties of something of value, in the context of agreed conditions, time and place. The overarching importance of the commerce and profiting from commercial hospitality is a notion that characterises the service encounter and leads to the aura of unauthenticity that increasingly pervades the transaction. This is operationalised in the wariness of the guest towards the charming ‘up sell’ intended to gain a larger profit and the wariness of the provider about unreasonable requests and expectations of guests. Gordon Ramsay’s (2005) lessons to struggling hospitality businesses to up sell ‘desserts and a side of potatoes’ serve as a timely reminder of the link between gain and loss and the relegation of hospitality to commercial dimensions. Derrida on the other hand espouses the concept of a total ‘pure’ hospitality. ‘Hospitality, for Derrida, if it is to be pure hospitality, can never be restricted by conditions. As soon as we put certain conditions in place, hospitality becomes particular or determinate in character. Neither can this hospitality — and this point is related to its indeterminacy — ever arrive within the structures of our world. Pure hospitality means an unconditional and structural openness to the advert (invention) of the wholly other (tout autre)’ (Boersma, 2003, p. 165). Thus, concepts of hospitality are constrained by the limits of hospitality where it is not just the giving that defines it but equally the reluctance to share, the holding back, that provides meaning. The facilitated (e.g., by food, shelter) interaction and roles played by host and guest, and the ritual inversion across boundaries of inclusion and exclusion and temporary inhabitancy of a liminal space followed by their return across the boundaries, define hospitality. Definitions of hospitality have been further shaped through an overlay of religious connotations attendant in the practice of service.
Hospitality — A Mark of Civilising Societies? Religion plays two important roles in the construction of understanding of the concept of hospitality; firstly, by establishing man’s place within the cosmos, and secondly, by defining hospitality as a moral obligation and virtue. In the first case, the rules of hospitality help
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define man’s own view of their rank in the hierarchical order of the cosmos. Thus, biblical references to the hierarchical high to low, starting with God, progressing to Man and ending with Beast establish the ranking order. This is reinforced by the desire of man to be more godlike (noble, generous, moral and giving) and less beast like (intent on sustenance, self and with no altruism) in their behaviours. Visser (1991, pp. 93–94) offers examples from the Classics to illustrate Greek and Roman myths that develop the notion of gods disguised as strangers, testing the morality of the host thus illustrating the power and pervasiveness of this element within hospitality. She goes further to enumerate the movement towards godliness by exhortations to the hosts to act in civilised manners including ‘we do not treat people as though they were swine or oxen slaughtered for the feast. We do not get the guests mixed up with the dishes’. This provision and concern of safety for the potentially dangerous stranger is a strong indicator of hospitality as a mark of civilising process of both host in overcoming fear and by host in placating the fear. Visser (1991, pp. 96–97) noted that within ancient Greek myths the supreme crime of the host was the murder of a guest, breaking the bonds of trust to the vulnerable guest and of the host as protector, and introducing disorder and transgression in the ordered realm of hospitality. The vulnerability of the guest finds hierarchical manifestation in the charitable aspects of hospitality. This refers to concern for the underprivileged that Selwyn (2000, p. 34) sees as a means of binding the poor to the rest of society by charitable acts of hospitality, so that they can be socially included has meaning taken from the concept of God posing as stranger but also a distancing of high from low. The poor may be viewed as ambassadors of the gods and provided with hospitality. However, the inclusion is temporary thus reinforcing a hierarchal distinction between classes in a society. Consequently, hospitality may be at one level charitable, but at another level it maintains and reinforces the differences between high and low, needy and provider of largesse.
The Role of The ‘Other’ in Hospitality Transcending this movement from low physical to high moral and ethical ground is facilitated by the role of hospitality. The existence of danger is generated as the practice of hospitality serves to reinforce the existing power structures yet simultaneously exposes the existing order to the presence of disorder inherent in the ‘other’. The role of the ‘other’ is ambiguous in other ways. It can be either demonised or exalted and be low or high. Here the colonial relationship to natives, the myth of Orientalism (Stallybrass & White, 1986, p. 5) and Neo-colonial (Mathieson and Wall, 1982) underpinnings to host–guest encounters in less developed and developing countries and the establishment of ‘tourist ghettoes’ like Club Med or Sun City (Africa) where the dominate (guest) is pandered to by the servile native, all serve as examples of the dominate and ‘other’ in the relationship. Thus, hospitality is defined not just by its purity but also by its impurities. These impurities referred variously to as the ‘strain of hospitality’ has been explored by authors such as Ryan (1991), Mathieson et al. (1982), and Smith and Brent (2001) in their writings on social and cultural dimensions of tourism and hospitality. They extend to social constructs that determine host–guest relations including those of xenophobia and neo-colonialism. The role of cultural arrogance and displays of this by both hosts and guests provide a
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strong argument for the inversion that occurs in the hospitality encounter/experience of modern times. The host in the provision of the act of hospitality is dominant, imposing their sense of order upon the other. The ‘other’, while symbolically elevated, is subject to domination by the host, and to the rules of being a guest. Here the guest must actively interpret the culture patterns of the host in their effort to fit in. This provides the opportunity for the guest as the ‘other’ to highlight the differences between the host and guest, thus marking the boundaries of inclusion and exclusion. The focus on differences, rather than similarities, also provides for a chance of reflection, a view from an external position, back upon the self. It provides a stimulus to question the hegemony, or more dangerously, may serve to act as the catalyst of change. The ambivalence is important and long recognised in the etymology and the tensions detected in the words; host, hospitality and hostility. Visser (1991, p. 91) provides a detailed overview of the etymology. Confusing as it seems at first sight, the words ‘host’ and ‘guest’ originally meant the same thing deriving as they did from the Indo-European term ‘ghostis’ meaning stranger. Visser explicates further referring to the antecedents of the origins of the word hospitality as being derived from the Latin ‘hostis’ (stranger equated to enemy), and the French ‘hoste’ and ‘hote’ both used to denote host and guest.
The Host and Guest There is a need to define the binary nature of the relationship between a host and guest to each other. That meaning in each is found in the relationship to the ‘other’. Here the host can be from the individual upwards to a group of people, as in the example from Derrida (2002), who defines the nation as host to people of a different culture and country. This nation as host approach is also seen in literature on tourism and impacts of tourists on countries they visit. The interdependence of the role of host and guest, the ambivalent nature of the relationship, the importance of hospitality as well as the underlying potential of hostility is acknowledged. Selwyn (2000, p. 35) refers to the uneasiness that prevails between commercial hospitality and the anthropological views of hospitality and its practice. The increasing dependence on viewing hospitality as an ‘industry/discipline’ and the commercial and business foci may also be extrapolated to tourism studies and literature. This seeming neutralisation of danger is illusory and contributory to the targeting of tourism and hospitality venues and tourists for acts of hostility or terrorism (Sonmez, 1998). Others (Mathieson et al., 1982) have alluded to this pseudo-neutralization of danger, couching it in terms of tourist behaviour that makes them susceptible to attacks. This behaviour includes a lack of familiarity with the location, culture and mores of the visited society leaving the guest more exposed and vulnerable. This analogy can be extended to the dining experience both in commercial and domestic contexts where the diner enters into a state of some complacency, but hospitality can often move very quickly into hostility (Selwyn, 2000). This hostility in commercial settings is often characterised by perceived or real inadequacies of either the diner or service provider. They might relate to service provision, gaucheness of the diner, inadequacy of food or alcohol, seating
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arrangements, speed of service or a myriad of other variables (Zeithaml, Parasuraman, & Berry, 1990) that characterise service industries. This hostility then manifests itself in ‘capitalisation of the situation’ where one of the parties emerges victorious whether through the likes of a reduction in the bill, a complimentary bottle of wine, or the proprietor getting ‘even’ by throwing out the obnoxious guest, contaminating their food, or some other form of humiliation. There is an implicit need to establish boundaries in host–guest relationships and to define who is known and who is the ‘other’. The guest must be the ritual ‘other’ or the stranger. It should be a clearly expressed relationship where each party is defined in the context of ‘self’ and ‘other’ with mutually understood boundaries. The boundaries are important both to define and to transgress, and to develop bonds created by acts of hospitality. There must be an order and hierarchy built on the notion of inclusion and exclusion. Hospitality helps a culture find a physical means to express the way in which it thinks about the other and its self. Here hospitality ranges from Derrida (2002) and the migrant ‘other’ to a more traditional concept of the provision of food and drink. The interaction of hospitality helps reinforce the inclusion and exclusion while mediating exchange between the two. This notion of nation as host is particularly apropos in the current international environment as much soul searching endures about recent acts of terrorism (e.g., Twin Towers, Bali, London, Egyptian bombings). This inclusion/exclusion ritual in the hospitality context endures as airport staff routinely targets certain ‘profiles’, the demonised and dangerous ‘other’, for indepth questioning before the nation lays open its hospitality to them. Drawing on Derrida’s concept of nation state as host, in Australia the current example of treatment of immigration detainees is a good setting in which to explore elements of hospitality. Citizens are protected from the detainees by their incarceration while still providing the detainees with food and shelter. Demonised by some in the community and yet elevated in status by others, it provides a clear example of the Australian official view of both itself and others and how peoples should be kept in their proper places: who belongs and who does not. The ‘hospitality’ provision also offers a challenge to the current hegemony as attempts are made to ‘recover’ costs from deported detainees for their period of incarceration and deportation. Here we witness a clear example of the threat of danger presented by a cultural interchange. This view of ‘hospitality also brings into sharper focus the rhetoric of equality and egalitarianism and the pseudo-equity where people from some countries are demonised for overstaying their visas and not others. This ‘measured’ and conditional hospitality is symbolic of a broader construct that entails the inversion of hierarchies attendant in host–guest relationships in hospitality. This refers to the situation whereby the guest without place and in need is promoted over the host who is in a position of authority invested with place and possessions. The stranger must be transformed into guest (Visser, 1991, p. 96) by ritual means. Guest’s wishes should be listened to and via a negotiated process catered for at some level. Rather than be treated with contempt or fear they (guests) must be temporally elevated to a position of honour. Their treatment is a ritual reversal of what could naturally be expected (patronage of the poor) and the establishment of the host as the lesser in the relationship. However, as Visser notes despite the elevation of the guest, the host remains more powerful than the guest from a ritual point of view. The guest is constrained by a role that is ceremonially passive and must rely on the host for the provision of the elements of hospitality.
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They are restrained by the role of guest from simply taking what they want, remaining subservient to that which the host is willing to provide. This emphasises a reinforcement of the rules of hierarchies in their over-turning. The subtlety and finesse of these inversions in no way detract from their symbolism. Thus, dramatic statements are not needed to reinforce this position of authority. The normally low realm associated with eating, food and other bodily functions is elevated as a godlike act when linked to the act of hospitality. Elias (1994) argues this as a form of social elevation, while Visser (1991, p. 96) highlights social cache inherent in seating arrangements practised in protocols in domestic and international settings. A generally accepted view is that the closer the guest is seated to the host, the greater is the honour. Selwyn (2001, p. 34) draws attention to historical instances of the mutuality of roles where guests acknowledged the ‘moral authority’ of the host and in turn hosts were bestowed honour by the guests’ attendance. Motives for hospitality are also a consideration in explaining the relationships and binary configuration between host and guest. Telfer (2000, p. 41) argues that a good motive is an important component in being hospitable and that being a good host is a combination of hosting skills and being hospitable. She expands on the notion of hospitable motives by focussing on the three groups of motives for both hosts and guests (42–51). These motives are: the desire to please others; reciprocity (do unto others what you would want done unto you); and designed to benefit the host (commerce, sense of well-being, displays of expansiveness, gratitude, affection, love, intimacy, etc., in a domestic setting). In each group of motives there is ambiguity as the relationship is a negotiated process including the guest and no pre-written script applies. In each case there is the need to negotiate the hierarchal relationship of the role of the host with that of the hierarchal role of the guest.
Transgression, Rituals, Roles and Rules in Hospitality By its very nature, hospitality as an act must step away from the everyday, the profane, and into the space of the sacred. Here we see the need for symbol and ritual to facilitate this movement. Hospitality serves as this ritual as it has beginning and end, and encompasses a journey from profane to sacred and return. It is time out of the everyday and provides a locus of safety for the ‘other’ and from the ‘other’. The rules of hospitality are different from everyday rules and rituals with ritualistic symbols, such as, food, or the mask or role-play of being the host, for as Palmer (1992, p. 7) says: ‘Host and guest may easily don masks in order to play out roles that would otherwise be constrained by their community’. This sense of community (belonging) impacts profoundly on cultural interpretations of the profane and sacred. Caste, social status, hierarchy, and notions of time (Mathieson et al., 1982) all affect interpretations and displays of hospitality and food. Furthermore, the role of certain ‘markers’ characterise the journey in hospitality. These can be denoted as follows: • Welcome, the transformation of stranger to guest • Provision of some or all the elements of hospitality 䊊 Food or drink
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Shelter/bed Safety 䊊 Entertainment • Departure, the transformation of guest back to the ‘changed’ stranger. This underlines that the act of hospitality is reliant on the expectation that the guest will eventually depart. 䊊 䊊
The act of hospitality relies on a transformative process concerned with converting stranger to guest. However, it must stop short of complete and permanent integration into the host’s ‘household’. Visser (1991) offers a useful account of the often subtle rituals that aid this process. The mask of host or guest with their own assigned roles, rules and responsibilities allows each to transgress their own boundaries and come closer together, sharing a more common but liminal space. This movement towards each other maintains and reinforces the boundaries of each by recognition of similarities but retains an emphasis on differences. Thus, hospitality becomes a performance built on ‘protocols of earnest invitation, cheerful entertainment, faithful protection, and courteous dismission’ (Palmer, 1992, p. 7) all aimed at providing an altered state. A state where ‘hospitality practice is about the production of fantasies.’ The element of fantasy is carried even further when ‘theming’ is applied as in masquerades, bush dances, circuses or other extravaganzas masked as charity functions. This contradiction is vital to exploring the link between hospitality and carnival.
Hospitality and Carnival Hospitality facilitates an authorised transgression that allows for the experience of the ‘other’, and of disorder. This similarity between the role of hospitality and the role of carnival, as ventured by Bakhtin (1984), was the humorous world of folk culture that stood in defiant opposition to the serious official tone of medieval ecclesiastical feudal culture. It was a world that embraced a sense of disorder, which sought to turn the world on its head, inverting existing hierarchies and offering an experience of a potential different future. Carnival was temporary, a stepping away from the everyday, a creation of a fantasy bound by its own rules and time. In many ways hospitality employs similar symbolic strategies to achieve remarkably similar goals. Like carnival, hospitality is a lived experience, a borderline between art and life. Apart from reality, yet, part of life and forged by existing well-understood rules and behaviours there is involvement, people participate; do not resile from the spectacle and it embraces all involved. For the life of the performance there is no outside world. It has been temporarily suspended and the rules of the everyday replaced by a special set of temporary rules that provide their own set of freedoms and responsibilities. There is a surrendering of the self to the experience in the hope of gaining from the encounter and the creation of a common bond, and universal spirit. Other similarities include the need for the temporary stepping away from the everyday, the facilitated and authorised transgression from the profane to the sacred and return as a marking out of the progression of time. Both carnival and hospitality seek to alter the
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existing hierarchies. During carnival the feudal hierarchy is overturned, the King debased and replaced via an act of inversion by the crowning and subsequent rule of the Fool (Court Jester). In the act of hospitality the stranger is elevated to the position of honoured guest, the host now in the position of providing service to the ‘other’. There is a consensual agreement to re-order and take on prescribed roles and obligations. This temporary suspension, both real and symbolic, of existing hierarchies allows a change in the interaction between those involved. The interchange while still constrained is freed from the restrictions of the everyday imposed by the boundaries of inclusion and exclusion. The host must take on the traditional low role concerned with servicing the guest’s bodily needs while simultaneously being granted status as host. This process of ritual overturning (inversion) opens up the realm of possibility, thus providing for the creation of a fantasy or a utopian view. It opens up the potential of change and offers a glimpse of hope, which is both liberating and simultaneously dangerous to human consciousness. There is the capacity of overturning the status quo by flirting with the realm of disorder and the danger inherent in challenging the current order and its existing boundaries. Both carnival and hospitality are risky, the outcome is not predictable but herein lies part of the appeal of both activities. The risk is not confined to threat of change but embraces the element of excess linked to bodily pleasure that is latent in both carnival and hospitality. Excess is a threat to the civilizing process and a constant reminder of man’s despised links with a beastly (low) nature. Food and eating is central to both carnival and hospitality for similar reasons, as an aid in the ritual process and as a means to symbolically express transgression. This transgression also extends to the tussle between high-mindedness and morality and low sensory gratification inherent in the pleasures both of the table and postprandial activities that follow. These schisms in civilising aspects also extend to notions of food as sustenance and fuel for life, as opposed to hedonism and fuel for material pleasure. Eating also defines individuals and is a means of providing a clear representation of inclusion or exclusion from a group. Importantly, furthermore, food is a useful artefact that provides a way to transgress those boundaries. By sharing food, bonds between individuals are created, as potential hostility must be suspended. However, food is also a process of a symbolically rich language capable of communicating much about the human condition. It is the end result of labour and the collective effort. To be able to give away food by sharing food with a stranger demonstrates a significant triumph in living. The mouth, the place where eating takes place, is the ongoing site of mediation between self and the world. By eating there is a triumphant demonstration of mastery over the world and incorporation of the world into the self, a representation of the life and death struggle. The experience of disorder inherent within hospitality is important for all the reasons underlying carnivalesque experiences. Just as Bakhtin’s (1984) carnival offered folk culture, hope as a site of resistance and a means to challenge the existing dominate hegemony, so too in its own way does hospitality. By entertaining the other, the host extends and changes the existing sense of order. It is a chance to become; it is a growing thing, the opportunity for change. To enter into the hospitality exchange is to declare a forward-looking intention and an acceptance of the possibility offered by disorder. The transgression of boundaries by the symbolic use of food and drink and their meaning in the transformative process is discussed in the following section.
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The Symbolic Role of Food A central and convenient medium of exchange used universally in the transaction of hospitality is the provision of food. It does not matter what food or the amount. For example, Selwyn (2000, p. 33) draws the spectrum ‘from the shared packet of crisps in the pub to the exchange of betel nut in the village’, saying that they ‘are replication at microcosmic level of much larger occasions such as Christmas day, baronial banquets or village thanksgiving feasts’. What is important is the link established with the concept of the meal. Douglas’ (1975, p. 260) hypothesis here is important that symbolically all meals are related carrying something of the meaning of all other meals. Thus, the sharing of food enables the mediation of the two sets of order present in host and guest and allows a coming together in an act that is both biologically and culturally symbolically charged. The role of food offers a convenient and decipherable medium of economic exchange often set against the inherent notion of mutual obligation. Food has a ‘known’ economic value that allows the host to demonstrate the judgement they have made regarding the worth of the possible encounter. The amount or type of food provided enables displays of wealth, status generosity by the host, all means of elevating their own hierarchical position and placing the guest into a defined position indicating current status and future obligation. Traditional links between food, work, mutual obligation and expressions of social order are used in a variety of cultures and contexts to denote generosity or as expressions of faith. Fletcher (2004, pp. 40–43) highlights the ‘potlatches’ feasts held by the Kawakiutl people in the second half of the nineteenth century in British Colombia which lead to such increases in obligation that the then Canadian Government was forced to ban the feasts for fear of a breakdown in the social order. Douglas (1966, 1975) on the other hand analysed the moral framework established by the Jewish food laws where by observance to prescribed food behaviour allegiance to the faith is expressed. By sharing food even for one meal a common bond with all humanity is signified. Food and eating form bonds that link people together in a shared social experience nearly as intimate as sex. There is not just a physical intimacy created by accepting the offer of food, but as Visser (1991, p. 97) explores food is a symbol of shared fellowship with the host. To refuse food is to reject the fellowship and prevent the host from acting out the role of the host. Here the implicit meaning in the rejection of sharing food is also a more total rejection of the other individual. Food can also be used by the guest as a gift, to help transgress boundaries, a gesture of ritual deference and part payment for hospitality about to be given. This may facilitate the breakdown of barriers, although Visser (1991, p. 111) notes that in some cultures this act would be read as an insult to the host. Bakhtin (1983) explores the symbolic role of food as a transgressor of boundaries in the carnivalesque sense. In this context food moves via the mouth between the internal world of the self and the external world. Bakhtin views eating as a metaphor for living, for taking on and triumphing over the world in an ongoing life and death struggle. Food is the manifestation of exchange crossing the boundary (symbolically the mouth) between inner self and the outer world (the other). It is a way of ordering, making sense of the world by incorporating a representation of the world into the body, taking in the disorder and enjoying the benefit of the experience. Bakhtin raises consciousness of the inherent low nature of food, related as it is to his concept of the lower body stratum. Yet
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in the context of hospitality food overturns this position drawing on reference to God(s) as host to move food into a hierarchical exalted position. Furthermore, lavish levels of food can help signify the special nature of the occasion. A problem arises when the boundary between generosity and excess is breached. Within the civilizing process moderation is often valued over intemperance, which is too closely linked with the beastly order of nature. The combination of excess and the inherent danger of hospitality prove a menacing symbol of the threat posed by disorder. This challenge to the social order by excess consumption is clearly seen in the reaction to alcohol. The social role of alcohol is as a social lubricant, a means to aid in the transgression of boundaries via the breakdown of inhibitions. To act simultaneously as a symbolic and chemical means to move from the profane to the sacred. The danger lies jointly in the special freedoms and rules that are found in sacred space and the physical changes provided by the mind-altering properties of alcohol. The extent of this perceived, or actual, threat of the breakdown of social order can be seen in the reaction of church and state in numerous countries in the strength of measures used to limit or prohibit alcohol consumption. Alcohol offers both a physical and symbolic threat to order. Regulations regarding its consumption are seen as a means of imposing order on disordered, transgressive acts of civility and civilising. In addition to food and alcohol, the role of place highlights concepts of inclusion and exclusion provided by hospitality in the contemporary context.
The Role of Place in Hospitality The concept of place is important within the abstraction of hospitality helping to build further the notion of inclusion and exclusion. The host must be clearly linked with a sense of place that they define as their own and have control over. Here the place must assert a sense of the host’s identity and their sense of self. This sense of place could range from the personal space of the domestic home through to the space of the nation state, and embrace both the physical and cultural perception of place. To be able to act out the role of host they should be in a position of authority and have the ability to invite the guest in, to permit the transgression of boundaries and make welcome the stranger. The host must recognise the boundary of self and other and the symbolic function of a portal (opening to a place) that allows access and thus transgression across boundaries. Conversely, the guest is by definition a stranger to this place and thus excluded. Here the sense of place aids in the defining of who is included, at home, familiar, and who stands outside recognised as the stranger, the other. This contrast can be clearly seen in the example of the tourist who stands outside the host society separated by differences of origin, behaviour, dress or local knowledge. It is the role of the host to extend the welcome, to invite the other to temporally break the boundaries of inclusion and exclusion. The host must, in the negotiated case of conditional hospitality, decide that they can afford to entertain the guest and their needs and that the anticipated return will override the interruption to freedom (and order) caused by hosting the guest. There is a tacit acknowledgement of the potential reward despite the disordered exchange. The notion of place of the hospitality is subject to the rules of intimacy and distance being used symbolically to express levels of inclusion and exclusion. Place becomes a
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mean to map the negotiated level of hospitality between the host and guest. Douglas (1975, pp. 256–257) uses the place of the meal as one measure to map levels and boundaries of intimacy found within the food system she was studying: ‘So those friends who have never had a hot meal in our home have presumably another threshold of intimacy to cross.’ This reading of the distance and corresponding negotiation of reciprocality is important in the creation of the hierarchies that rank the status of host and guest. Levels of intimacy are also defined ‘drinks are for strangers, acquaintances, workmen and family. Meals are for family, close friends, honoured guests. The grand operator of the system is the line between intimacy and distance’ (ibid.). Acts of hospitality in domestic settings are underlaid with other ambiguous meanings and have to do with trust, relationship building, cultural and personal reticence as well as the distinction between friend and acquaintance (Daruwalla & Mazzacato, 2001). Invitations to home-cooked meals signifies a degree of inclusion not offered to mere acquaintances. A corollary is the increasingly popular concept of ‘meeting at a restaurant’ for important occasions as opposed to hosting at home. This aspect is increasingly being capitalised upon by the commercial provision of hospitality where we witness the appeal to increased levels of intimacy by promotion of links with symbolic higher domestic sphere with claims such as ‘home-cooked’ food. Lynch and MacWhannell (2000, pp. 100–117) and Lynch (2005, pp. 527–548) map the ambiguity created by this mixing of commercial hospitality with the actual and the symbolic home, tracing the impact on the host–guest dynamic. The expressed tensions further demonstrate the importance of reading the levels of intimacy and distance and the inherent difference between stated forms of hospitality. This sense of disorder also has appeal, fuelling interest in the nature of the exchange. ‘However, we should also recognise that such tension is also a source of great appeal for the guests in which rules and behaviours and expectations of the hosts are a topic for observation and subsequent conversation’ (Lynch & MacWhannell, 2000, p.113).
Conclusion The guest by accepting the offer of hospitality enters into a negotiated agreement that impacts the host’s sense of place. Temporality, liminality, movement away from the mundane, abiding by a code of conduct and the creation of new hierarchies all result in the site of hospitality becoming a negotiated space/place. This destabilisation of the fragile equilibrium generated by hospitality Friese (2004, p. 70) suggests is summed up conveniently in the Italian saying ‘un’ospite è come un pesce. Dopo tre giorni puzza’ — a guest is like a fish. After three days it stinks. The guest is recognised as a temporary imposition requiring a subordination of the host’s usual freedom. On departure of the guest, the space is returned to the control of the host and a revision to a previously existing sense of order marking the completion of the act of hospitality. The returning to an ordered existence is inherent in this dismission of the guest and the ritual reversion to order by reclaiming various symbols and aspects that had marked the transgression of the boundaries. This chapter has examined the notion of hospitality, the roles of host and guest and prevailing views of inclusion and exclusion using the framework of order and disorder
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inherent in hospitality provision. The role of food, alcohol and place as symbols and markers of this transgression from order to disorder are highlighted, and the role of religiosity and parallels between carnival and hospitality were also explored. This has served to highlight the transgressive nature inherent in the concept of hospitality, vulnerable as it is to infringement in a multiplicity of ways, and heavy in symbolic connotations. Riddled by contradictions, it has been demonstrated that hospitality is employed as a means of articulating, demonstrating and manipulating social structures and hierarchies functioning at the interplay between, the likes of, order/disorder, hospitality/hostility, inclusion/exclusion, sacred/profane, religiosity/bacchanalion, reality/fantasy and domestic/commercial.
References Bakhtin, M. (1984). Rabelais and his world (484pp.). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Boersma, H. (2003). Iranaeus, Derrida and hospitality: On the eschatological overcoming of violence. Modern Theology, 19, 165. Daruwalla, P., & Mazzocato, M. (2001). Duets. In: G. Mercer, & A. Bartlett (Eds), Postgraduate research supervision: Transforming (R)elations (pp. 199–210). New York: Peter Lang. Derrida, J. (2002). Acts of religion. New York: Routledge. Douglas, M. (1966). Purity and danger an analysis of the concepts of pollution and taboo (188pp). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd. Douglas, M. (1975). Deciphering a meal. In: M. Douglas (Ed.), Implicit meanings essays in anthropology (pp. 249–275). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Elias, N. E. (1994). The civilizing process. Blackwell Publishers Ltd. Oxford, UK, 558pp. Fletcher, N. (2004). Charlemagne’s tablecloth a piquant history of feasting. Weidenfeld & Nicolson London in association with Peter Crawley, 256pp. Friese, H. (2004). Spaces of hospitality. Angelaki Journal of Theoretical Humanities. (J. Keye, Trans.), 9(2), 67–79. Kotler, P. (2003). Marketing management (11th ed.). New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. Lynch, P. (2005). Sociological impressionism in a hospitality context. Annals of Tourism Research. 32(3), 527–548. Lynch, P., & MacWhannell, D. (2000). Home and commercialised hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 100–114). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Mathieson, A., & Wall, G. (1982). Social impacts. In: A. Mathieson, G. Wall (Eds), Tourism: Economic, physical and social impacts (pp. 133–176). New York: Longman Scientific and Technical John Wiley. Palmer, D. W. (1992). Hospitalities: Practices and representations (pp. 1–86). West Lafayette, Indiana: Purdue Research Foundation. Ramsay, G. (2005). Channel 7, Australia. Ryan, C. (1991). The social and cultural impacts of tourism. In: Routledge (Ed), Recreational tourism a social science perspective (pp. 131–166). International Thomson Business Press, New York. Selwyn, T. (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 18–36). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Smith, V., & Brent, M. (2001). Hosts and guests revisited: Tourism issues of the 21st century (462pp.). New York: Cognizant Communication Corporation.
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Sonmez, S. F. (1998). Tourism, terrorism and political instability. Annals of Tourism Research, 25(2), 416–456. Stallybrass, P., & White, A. (1986). The politics and poetics of transgression. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 38–55). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Visser, M. (1991). The rituals of dinner (432pp.). New York: Grove Weidenfeld. Zeithaml, V. A., Parasuraman, A., & Berry, L. L. (1990). Delivering quality service: Balancing customer perceptions and expectations. New York: The Free Press.
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Hospitality and Gastronomy: Natural Allies Barbara Santich
Introduction As the host nation for the 2004 Olympic and Paralympic Games, Greece accepted responsibility for the thousands of visitors welcomed into the country. ATHENS 2004, the committee which organised the event, provided safe and comfortable accommodation to athletes and team officials, and ensured that high-quality food was available to every individual according to individual preferences and requirements — from halal and kosher to particular foods for those with iodine intolerance (ATHENS 2004, 2004a). It took seriously, if metaphorically, the duties of host as succinctly expressed by Brillat-Savarin: ‘To invite someone is to take responsibility for ensuring his happiness for so long as he is beneath your roof’ (‘Convier quelqu’un, c’est se charger de son bonheur pendant tout le temps qu’il est sous notre toit’) (Brillat-Savarin, 1865). Brillat-Savarin is, of course, better known as the Father of Gastronomy, though this title might well be contested by one of his contemporaries, Grimod de la Reynière. Grimod was writing in the very early years of the nineteenth century, whereas Brillat-Savarin’s classic, Physiologie du Goût, ou Meditations de Gastronomie Transcendante, with its significant chapter on gastronomy, was published in December 1825 (with a publishing imprint of 1826). In this chapter, Brillat-Savarin outlined the scope and relevance of gastronomy and even proposed an ‘Academy of Gastronomes’, hypothesising that in the near future gastronomy would have ‘its own academicians, universities, professors and prizes’; Grimod, however, had already anticipated such a possibility some 17 years earlier, writing in his Manuel des Amphitryons that the vogue for ‘la science gastronomique’ was such that it would not be surprising to see a Chair of Gastronomy established in French colleges in the near future (Brillat-Savarin, 1994; Grimod de la Reynière, 1983). Both men viewed gastronomy as a science, a branch of study which is shaped ‘first by the combination of methods learned from experience, and later by the discovery of principles deduced from the combination of those methods’ (Brillat-Savarin, 1994). Most current dictionary definitions of gastronomy still emphasise the ‘science’ aspect,
Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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defining gastronomy in terms of the art and/or science of good or delicate eating. While it might be possible to translate art and science as skill and knowledge and thereby demonstrate a continuity and consistency with the early nineteenth-century understanding, most contemporary interpretations of gastronomy seem considerably narrower than that of Brillat-Savarin, who considered gastronomy to pertain to a range of disciplines including natural history, physics, chemistry, cookery, commerce and political economy (Brillat-Savarin, 1994). Further, in proposing that the aim of gastronomy should be to give guidance ‘to all who seek, provide or prepare substances which may be turned into food’, with the aim of ensuring the preservation of man by the best possible nourishment, Brillat-Savarin demonstrated that his understanding accorded with the etymological origins of the term, which derives from two ancient Greek words: gaster [the stomach and, by extension, the digestive system] ⫹ nomos [rule or regulation] (Brillat-Savarin, 1994). Thus gastronomy can be seen as relating to rules associated with eating — what, where, when, why, how and with whom. The ‘science’ of gastronomy enables the elucidation and understanding of these rules, which in turn serve as the basis for the guidance. Significantly, Brillat-Savarin’s understanding of gastronomy is also consistent with the intentions of Archestratus, possibly the first person to use the word. (Archestratus was a Sicilian Greek who lived in the fourth century BC and who wrote probably the earliest food and wine guide to the Mediterranean region — what was best to eat and drink and where to find it; Gastronomia is one of several putative titles to this book) (Wilkins & Hill, 1994).
Contemporary Gastronomy and the Study of Gastronomy A concise definition of ‘gastronomy’ is notoriously elusive. The interpretations given in a recent text, European Gastronomy into the 21st Century, echo the standard dictionary definitions: ‘the art, or science, of good eating’, ‘the enjoyment of food and beverages’, ‘the enjoyment of good food, and good beverage, in good company’ (Gillespie, 2001). These stock interpretations coincide with popular perceptions that position gastronomy as an interest of, or somehow restricted to, a certain elite, and that place gastronomy at the opposite end of the scale to everyday eating. A recent article in a popular French magazine described how to transform ‘cuisine’ into ‘gastronomie’, thus implying that gastronomy is in some way special or superior, either by the cost or quality of the ingredients, by the preparation methods or techniques or by the care and time devoted to the finished dish. (Ironically, the idea of transforming an ordinary dish or meal into a special one also implies sleight-of-hand tricks specifically designed to deceive the eater.) Such ‘elitist’ interpretations tend to associate gastronomy almost exclusively with restaurants and restaurant cuisine. Thus in European Gastronomy into the 21st Century, Gillespie’s list of contributors to the development of modern cuisine and gastronomy consists solely of chefs; almost all are owner-chefs of restaurants, almost all Michelin-starred, and all are authors of books describing and promoting their individual culinary style. When Gillespie adds that gastronomy is ‘also an examination of the terms “good food” and “good wine” (or other beverages), and “in whose terms”’, the ‘terms’ suggested relate specifically to restaurant situations (Gillespie, 2001). While this narrow interpretation might seem
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appropriate in the context of restaurants and commercial hospitality, it is inadequate to represent the potential depth and breadth of gastronomy. In Brillat-Savarin’s interpretation, gastronomy is ‘the reasoned understanding of everything that concerns us insofar as we sustain ourselves’ (La gastronomie est la connaissance raisonnée de tout ce qui a rapport à l’homme, en tant qu’il se nourrit) (Santich, 1996a, 1996b; Brillat-Savarin, 1865). Accepting gastronomy as the ‘reasoned understanding’, it follows that choosing and preparing foods, eating and drinking, must be accompanied by intellectual activity, by reflections on our choices, our eating and drinking, a conscious response or analysis. This understanding is implicit in Richards’ definition of gastronomy as ‘the reflexive cooking, preparation, presentation and eating of food’ (Richards, 2002, p. 17). It is significant that Brillat-Savarin does not specifically refer to food and drink in his definition of gastronomy, but rather to everything that relates to our nourishment (‘... insofar as we sustain ourselves’). To sustain ourselves, however, both physically and spiritually, we must eat and drink. Thus the focus of gastronomy is not so much food and drink per se, or even meals, but our eating of food, our drinking of beverages — in other words, consumption. To the extent that this is a convivial rather than a solitary activity, gastronomy therefore extends to sociability and communication. While gastronomy necessarily refers to food and drink, what is more important is their place in human societies and how human societies produce, prepare, classify and value food and drink — in other words, the norms, explicit or implicit, which are understood and accepted by the culture in which they originate and which apply to such concepts as mealtimes and contents of meals, to the values associated with foods, to the ways foods are produced and to food and beverage partnerings. Ferguson has proposed that gastronomy be considered a ‘cultural field’ which includes not only the ‘culinary products’, but also an understanding of the ‘practices and products, values and behaviour, rules and norms, institutions and ideas that are attendant upon the preparation and consumption of food’ in a particular social setting (Ferguson, 1998). This underlines the importance of the cultural context, including the beliefs and values which shape what is deemed edible, when certain foods are eaten and in what form, in what setting, by whom, for what reason. With this understanding of gastronomy, the scope of the study of gastronomy therefore extends to the study of the production and preparation of food and drink and how, where, when and why they are consumed. This is the knowledge required by, and assumed of, the gastronome (in Mennell’s (1985) sense of the term), which in his or her writing contributes to a wider understanding of food and drink, of customs and tastes. It necessarily implicates the philosophies, beliefs and values influencing gastronomic practices. These in turn relate to the social, cultural and historical aspects of food and eating, encompassing study of cuisines, restaurants and dining, food and wine matching, tourism and gastronomic writing. Extrapolating from Brillat-Savarin’s understanding of gastronomy and all that pertains to it, the study of gastronomy today relates to ‘the production of food, and the means by which foods are produced; the political economy of food; the treatment of foods, their storage and transport and processing; their preparation and cooking; meals and manners; the chemistry of food, digestion, and the physiological effects of food; food choices and customs and traditions’ (Santich, 1996a, 1996b). Gillespie’s focus on the material aspects of food and its preparation, typically in a restaurant context, not only places unreasonable limits on the domain of gastronomy but overlooks the crucial roles of the critic, the guide, the adviser, roles which were pioneered in the
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nineteenth century by Grimod de la Reynière and Brillat-Savarin. A number of contemporary writers on the history of gastronomy explicitly differentiate the gastronomer (who wields a pen) from the chef (who wields a pan) (Ferguson, 1998; Ory, 1997). According to Mennell, ‘a gastronome is generally understood to be a person who not only cultivates his own “refined taste for the pleasures of the table” but also, by writing about it, helps to cultivate other people’s too. The gastronome is more than a gourmet — he is also a theorist and propagandist about culinary taste’ (Mennell, 1985). As Archestratus told his readers what was best to eat where in the Mediterranean, when it was best and how it was best prepared, so too does the modern gastronome who shares his or her knowledge, experiences and judgements. And by sharing this understanding, they enhance the pleasure of the experience for others. In this context it is significant that the pioneers of modern gastronomy, Grimod de la Reynière and Brillat-Savarin, both took pains to distinguish the discriminating gourmand from the greedy, intemperate glutton. Grimod viewed the gourmand as ‘a gustatory veteran who, through years of application, has evolved an extraordinarily sensitive, discerning palate’ (Garval, 2001). According to Brillat-Savarin, a gourmand is someone who enjoys the pleasures of taste, and gourmandism, ‘an impassioned, reasoned, and habitual preference for everything which gratifies the organ of taste’, is a virtue, ‘the enemy of excess’ (Brillat-Savarin, 1994). This emphasis on pleasure makes gourmandism a necessary associate of gastronomy. Brillat-Savarin believed that some knowledge of gastronomy is essential for everyone, since it tends to increase the sum total of pleasure, which is our birthright (‘Les connaissances gastronomiques sont nécessaires à tous les hommes, puisqu’elles tendent à augmenter la somme du plaisir qui leur est destinée’) (Brillat-Savarin, 1865, 1994). The Slow Food movement taken the pleasure aspect one stage further with its concept of ‘eco-gastronomy’, described as the pursuit of culinary pleasure with particular attention to environmental issues and the defence of biodiversity, arguing that a gastronome who eats and enjoys the products of the land cannot be insensitive to environmental concerns, to economic problems on a world scale, or to the profound changes which have affected the rural world all over the planet (Sardo, 2003). One of the principal achievements of these two nineteenth-century trailblazers was to make gastronomy respectable, seeing it as an intelligent and entirely proper interest in food, drink and taste. To some extent, they also set the stage for the development of gastronomic tourism, tourism wholly or partly motivated by an interest in food and drink. In addition, their attention to the ‘happiness of guests’ also implicated gastronomy in hospitality.
Hospitality One might assume from Brillat-Savarin’s aphorism that hospitality is all about the happiness of others, about putting oneself at the service of others, and this is generally consistent with the earliest forms of hospitality. Nevertheless, emphasising the welfare and happiness of others gives a very simplistic understanding of hospitality, for almost always it brought some benefit — whether incidental or consciously sought. Even in ancient Greece, where hospitality was a sacred duty and a symbol of cultural identity (as it is in present-day Jordan, for example; (Shyrock, 2004), ensuring the happiness of others — or, in material terms, offering them food, drink and shelter — was not wholly disinterested because hosts
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expected that they, in their turn, would be the recipients of equal hospitality. The social obligation of hospitality to strangers continued in the early Christian period, when strangers or guests were considered to be potential angels or God himself in disguise, and therefore even more deserving of hospitality. Guests in monasteries — and these included strangers as well as fellow monks — were to be received as Christ himself according to the sixth-century rule of St. Benedict, which established a series of protocols and conventions for the operations of monasteries. At the same time, however, there was a quid pro quo involved; this offering of hospitality was seen as a way of enhancing one’s chances of receiving hospitality in the hereafter (Catholic Encyclopedia, 2004). Hospitality, then, was never completely altruistic; the possibility of hidden or future benefit to the host was not far below the surface. Even Greece in 2004 was anticipating rewards from its hosting of the Olympic and Paralympic Games. The long-term benefits, both tangible and intangible, included renewed civic pride and ‘re-invigorated public life throughout Greece’. In addition, ‘Athens and the surrounding region will have overhauled and upgraded every major sector of the economy’ (ATHENS 2004b, 2004a). On the other hand, nor was hospitality completely one-sided, as ‘ensuring the happiness of others’ might suggest. Almost always, hospitality implied a reciprocal relationship which imposed certain obligations on the guest. Browner suggests that the AngloEuropean world has adopted not only the Latin word, but also the Latin concept of hospitality rather than the ancient Greek concept (Browner, 2003). ‘Hospitalitas’ in Latin means the entertainment of guests, or hospitableness (Glare, 1973); it is derived from the word ‘hospes’, meaning either host or guest — guest in the sense of visitor or friend, someone with whom the host has some ties and not necessarily a complete stranger. In ancient Greek, hospitality is translated as ‘xenia’, derived from ‘xenos’, meaning host or guest but more particularly a stranger, wanderer, refugee, foreigner (Liddell & Scott, 1983). On the basis of this, Browner hypothesises that the Greek concept of hospitality was based on the primacy of the guest (the obligation towards strangers), whereas the Latin concept which we have inherited is based on the primacy of the host. ‘In the West, it is the role of the host that matters, for he is the lord of strangers’ (Browner, 2003). Nevertheless, in using the same word for both host and guest, both cultures imply that one is both host and guest, that in life people can move between the roles, host on one occasion and guest on another. This emphasises the notion of reciprocity in hospitality (which is also exemplified, in a more extreme way, by the custom of potlatch, or display feasts, among North American Indians) (Fieldhouse, 1986). The ethic of Homeric hospitality meant that the guest had an obligation to offer the same services in return, whether to the host or to another stranger. An additional, more immediate, obligation on the guest required that, after satisfying his hunger and thirst in a shared meal, he act as an attentive and sympathetic listener, or entertain in turn by telling his own story (Minchin, 1987). It is customary to differentiate early hospitality (private, traditional) from modern hospitality (predominantly commercial). According to the Slow Food movement, the reciprocity of traditional hospitality has been replaced by ‘an asymmetric relationship between a theoretically authoritative role and a fatally passive one’ (Slow Food, 2004). Historian Theodore Zeldin also makes a distinction between traditional and modern hospitality, theorising that the decline of hospitality in England dates from the sixteenth century when hosts lost direct touch with their guests and the free hospitality (offered by
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monasteries and private homes) began to be superseded by the hospitality industry; ‘as soon as distress was dealt with impersonally by officials, hospitality was never the same again’ (Zeldin, 1995). Further, it is assumed that the two forms are mutually exclusive. Where private or traditional hospitality was typically — or ostensibly — between equals, with reciprocity conceived as the return of a similar service, in commercial hospitality the host–guest relationship is seen as biased, with reciprocity converted to payment for goods and services received, the host receiving a direct financial reward. According to Lashley, ‘commercial hospitality provision depends on a reciprocity based on money exchange’ (Lashley, 2000). Yet as this brief survey of the notion of early hospitality demonstrates, three basic and underpinning characteristics have persisted and are still relevant in the present day: hospitality is concerned with the happiness of the guest, benefits (actual or potential) are derived by the host, and obligations are imposed on the guest. Despite differences in detail — in the nature of the benefits and obligations, in the balance of power within the host–guest relationship — there is remarkable consistency in the theoretical nature of hospitality. The forms might have changed, but not the essence. Understanding the basic underlying characteristics opens a way to see hospitality as a kind of interchange, a transaction between host and guest subtended by a mutual understanding of the principles, norms and rules involved. ‘A wider understanding of hospitality suggests firstly that hospitality is essentially a relationship based on host and guest’ (Lashley, 2000).
Contemporary Understanding of Hospitality Dictionary definitions of hospitality stress the practice, the ‘reception and entertainment’. According to the Macquarie Dictionary, hospitality is ‘the reception and entertainment of guests or strangers with liberality and kindness’ (Macquarie Dictionary, 1981). The primary meaning given by the Oxford English Dictionary is ‘the art or practice of being hospitable; the reception or entertainment of guests, visitors or strangers, with liberality and goodwill’ (OED online, 2004). This nuance is echoed in Cavallar’s interpretation of hospitality in the context of international relations: hospitality is the offer or giving of welcome, protection or entertainment to strangers, visitors or guests (Cavallar, 2002). Such interpretations tend to emphasise, albeit implicitly, the role of the tangible components of hospitality — the foods and beverages, the beds and other accommodation facilities. Brotherton’s definition of hospitality reflects a different perspective. In his view, hospitality is ‘A contemporaneous human exchange, which is voluntarily entered into, and designed to enhance the mutual well-being of the parties concerned through the provision of accommodation, and/or food, and/or drink’ (Brotherton, 1999). This interpretation emphasises the exchange relationship, the process — giving and receiving, with the attendant benefits and obligations. The phrase ‘to enhance the mutual well-being of the parties concerned’ refers both to the happiness of the guest and the inherent reciprocity in the exchange. King arrived at a similar understanding after a review of recent literature, affirming that hospitality is a relationship between individuals, taking the roles of host and guest; and that this relationship may be either commercial, with the guest’s obligation limited to paying and behaving reasonably, or private (social), where guests have a social obligation to contribute to the relationship, and to reciprocate in some way. Hospitality, she
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concluded, is a process involving a series of social rituals or courtesies, which define the status of the guest and the nature of the host–guest relationship (King, 1995). Both Brotherton’s and King’s interpretations are consistent with the general notion of hospitality proposed earlier, a transaction between host and guest. Zeldin takes the idea even further when he suggests that travel is also ‘the discovery of people: it is travail, it requires effort, and its reward is a transformation of both the visitor and the host’ (Zeldin, 1995). This ‘human exchange’ aspect of hospitality is increasingly recognised by tourism authorities. In France, for example, the French Government tourism organisation has developed, under the general banner Bienvenue en France, a 6-point charter with the slogan ‘Our first love is hospitality’ (‘Ici, nous avons la passion de l’accueil’). Apart from the promise to look after the environment, the focus of the charter is the host–guest relationship. According to the Maison de la France website, about 70,000 hotels, restaurants, cultural institutions and customs offices in France have pledged to make foreign visitors feel at home and safe in France by adopting the ‘welcome commitment’: • • • • • •
We look after our environment. We treat everyone like personal guests. We do everything in our power to understand and anticipate everyone’s expectations. We want every contact to be something special. We make clear, accurate information available to everyone. We invest in the resources and methods needed to make the hospitality unforgettable (La Passion de l’Accueil, 2004).
The charters for other French tourism and hospitality associations similarly place great emphasis on the personal nature of the host–guest relationship. The Gîtes de France organisation, which offers rental accommodation as well as bed-and-breakfast options, promises intending guests that they ‘will be welcomed as friends of the family’ when they spend one or more nights in private homes (farmhouses, traditional stone houses or ‘mas’, mansions and châteaux) (Gîtes de France, 2004). Fermes auberges (farm restaurants), which belong to and are accredited by the organisation Bienvenue à la Ferme, engage to offer guests ‘a simple, natural and warm welcome, [taking] care to satisfy the natural curiosity of clients through discussion and printed materials’ (Bienvenue à la Ferme, 1994). L’Accueil Paysan, a similar association of farmers providing meals and accommodation in a rural setting, specifies in its 9-point charter that the farmer offering hospitality should do so with the aim of introducing the guests to his way of life and his environment with a view to promoting understanding and mutual respect. (‘Le paysan pratiquant cet accueil est désireux de faire connaître son métier et son environnement (contact avec les animaux, connaissance des plantes, du rythme des saisons). Là est la spécificité de son accueil. L’accueil se fait dans un souci d’échanges et de respect mutuels. Cet accueil se veut accessible à toutes les couches socials.’) (Accueil Paysan, 2002). For all these associations, the human side of hospitality is at least as important as the material components, the provision of food, beverages and accommodation. In prioritising the experience of the visit and the personal welcome, they are promoting the characteristics of private or traditional hospitality, where host and guest are more like equals rather than those of commercial hospitality. This reversion to a more traditional form of hospitality is made quite explicit by the Fédération Nationale des Gîtes de France, which effectively
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eschews the standard commercial exchange: ‘Our aim is to afford holidaymakers the freedom and choice that ordinary travel cannot provide. Quite apart from being an art of holidaymaking, Gîtes de France offers what money can’t buy: authenticity, hospitality, friendship, and the chance to experience the joys and pleasures of the French way of life first hand. It is the ideal way to explore France and its rich and varied scenery, and get to know its people’ (Gîtes de France, 2004). Clearly, the tangibles of food, drink and accommodation cannot be ignored. Brotherton’s definition of hospitality, while emphasising the human exchange, also recognises ‘the provision of accommodation, and/or food, and/or drink’ as essential components of hospitality (Brotherton, 1999). The advantage of his definition, and other contemporary understandings, is that hospitality is not seen as merely the supply of goods and services in return for financial gain.
Successful Hospitality Successful hospitality is not therefore measured in terms of profit. Returning to BrillatSavarin, being responsible for a guest’s happiness means understanding the guest’s requirements, knowing not only what is appropriate, but how it should be offered. King concurs that successful hospitality depends on knowing what would give great pleasure to the guest and delivering it generously and flawlessly in order to enhance guest satisfaction. She emphasises that hospitality ‘requires a thorough understanding of what will please the guest’ and that ‘When guests are paying for hospitality, generosity is what they are willing to pay for, or in other words, value’ (King, 1995). This final nuance — for there are limits on the ability to be generous — is echoed in Lashley’s conclusion that effective hospitality ‘requires the guest to feel that the host is being hospitable through feelings of generosity, a desire to please, and a genuine regard for the guest as an individual’ (Lashley, 2000). These qualities in the host constitute what Telfer describes as ‘hospitableness’, when the host’s motives ‘are those in which concern for the guests’ pleasure and welfare, for its own sake, is predominant’ (Telfer, 2000). What will please the guest relates not only to the quality and quantity of the accommodation, food and beverages, but also to the intangibles associated with the human exchange. Grimod de la Reynière demonstrated a thorough understanding of the quality of ‘hospitableness’ in his Manuel des Amphitryons (1808), written to provide the nouveaux riches of post-revolutionary France with an understanding of ‘le grand art du savoir vivre’ that had been brought to perfection in France over three centuries only to be lost with the heads that tumbled from the guillotine. While most of the book was occupied by advice on what to serve, how to choose the best ingredients, how to carve, how to select and serve wines, Grimod also paid attention to the host–guest relationship — inviting and receiving guests, table etiquette. Summarising the role of the host, he wrote that the host had an obligation to provide an excellent meal, served promptly, elegantly and gracefully and accompanied by choice wines, and to look after his guests in such a way that each of them believed, on leaving, that he or she had been the principal focus of the host’s attention (Grimod de la Reynière, 1808). In a commercial context, the same concept of ‘hospitableness’ applies but with qualification, because commercial hospitality involves a financial transaction; according to Telfer, the commercial host shows concern for the guests’ pleasure
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and welfare and, in addition, because he is not primarily motivated by maximising profit, charges a reasonable, rather than an extortionate, price (Telfer, 2000). Grimod’s readers should have become perfect hosts, knowing what would give great pleasure to their guests, particularly in terms of food and beverages. In this sense his book is a compendium of gastronomic advice within a general context of hospitality. It demonstrates further that understanding what will please a guest and how to please a guest pertain not only to hospitality, but also to gastronomy. Though neither are solely concerned with the material substance of food and beverages, these are nonetheless central elements in both gastronomy and hospitality, whether the guest is sharing the host’s food and drink at the same table, as in the Accueil Paysan formula, or eating a meal based on farm produce, as at a ferme auberge, or savouring the exquisite art of a three-star chef in an elegant restaurant. As Browner has noted, ‘eating, and hospitality in general, is communion’ (Browner, 2003). In addition, the reciprocity inherent in hospitality requires not only that hosts understand what would please guests, but also understand what they can offer and how it would best satisfy the guests; ultimately, this means reaching a kind of compromise between what guests want and what hosts can offer. As Cohen and Avieli point out, local food needs to be transformed to some extent to become acceptable (Cohen & Avieli, 2004). Particularly in the areas of hospitality that are concerned with ‘the provision of food and/or drink’, however, an understanding of food and drink in general, and of the history, culture and traditions of the particular foods and drinks available to guests, is vital to success, further underlining the affinity between hospitality and gastronomy.
Hospitality and Gastronomy A great deal of research has been undertaken with the aim of improving understandings of guest requirements and what would contribute to increased guest satisfaction, although this depends very much on the characteristics of the individual guest and the particular context. For example, a study of restaurants in Spain found that customers rated the quality of the food as the most important attribute (which would influence their decision to return to a restaurant), followed by quality of service, cost/value of the meal and place/ambience (Soriano, 2002). Both quality of food and quality of service are largely subjective and difficult to quantify; given its significance, however, much attention has been devoted to assessments of service quality. According to Winsted, the most important contributor service quality is what she calls ‘concern’, which incorporates empathy, assurance, responsiveness, authenticity, perceived competence, listening and dedication (Winsted, 2000). This emphasises the ‘human exchange’ nature of hospitality, since these qualities — empathy, friendliness, enthusiasm, courtesy, a genuine personal interest in guests — are the kinds of qualities normally associated with personal relationships rather than commercial transactions. As noted earlier, a greater emphasis on the personal relationship is evident in recent hospitality initiatives, such as the fermes auberges network in France. While such establishments are still part of the hospitality industry — defined by Brotherton as ‘commercial organisations that specialise in providing accommodation and/or, food and/or, drink’ (Brotherton, 1999) — and while the food, drink and accommodation are supplied as part of a commercial transaction, the focus of such hospitality is the complete experience rather
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than just the quality and value-for-money of the food or of the accommodation. This might be partly a result of the hospitality experience being considered an ancillary operation, certainly not the primary role of a farm. It allows for guests to be welcomed more as friends, as though the hospitality were offered in a private or social context; different standards apply, and both host and guest have different expectations. In such hospitality ventures the hosts are effectively giving of themselves, giving guests the experience of participating in another culture and relating to people and places with a strong sense of their own identity. This is the essence of cultural tourism, an increasingly significant facet of tourism in general. Rather than simply supplying goods and services, the hosts are offering a unique and an authentic experience. The ferme auberge charter obliges the farm to provide meals which reflect local gastronomic traditions and which are substantially based on the farm’s own products in a warm and welcoming room which similarly respects local architecture and interiors, sympathetically furnished and possibly displaying examples of local crafts (Bienvenue à la Ferme, 1994). Accueil Paysan places similar emphasis on the authenticity of the experience. Winsted points out the importance in service industries of authenticity, which she defines as the genuineness and naturalness of the host (Winsted, 2000). These qualities — genuiness, naturalness — also exemplify the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’ proposed by Miele and Murdoch in the course of their examination of food preparation and consumption practices in restaurants (more particularly, in Italy). Accepting that aestheticisation is a process profoundly reshaping the modern world in which everyday practices, including eating, dressing and entertaining, are ‘increasingly underpinned by aesthetic considerations’, the authors identify two main forms relating to restaurants, which they name the ‘aesthetic of entertainment’ and the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’ (Miele & Murdoch, 2002). They suggest that the ‘aesthetic of entertainment’, in which food quality is subservient to the restaurant experience, is the consequence of the incorporation of the food service sector into the leisure industry, such that restaurants (or ‘sites for food consumption’) are now found in theatres, art galleries, shopping centres and sports stadiums; eating out becomes no longer an activity pursued for itself but rather is associated with other leisure pursuits. Further, they argue that the pervasiveness of this trend, which Miele and Murdoch see as one aspect of the ‘detraditionalisation’ of food, has coincided with a marginalisation of the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’ but at the same time has contributed to its revival. The ‘gastronomic aesthetic’, on the other hand, values freshness, seasonality, typicality, terroir — precisely those aspects increasingly displaced by the standardisation associated with the ‘aesthetic of entertainment’ but valued by those who seek to experience authentic local cuisines. The restaurant described as illustrating the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’, the Bagnoli restaurant in Tuscany, features the typical cuisine of the region, relies on locally produced materials, and offers an ambience of relaxed conviviality. It is also, according to the authors, embedded in the local area, with strong ties to local socio-economic institutions, which further enhance its authenticity (Miele & Murdoch, 2002). The fermes auberges and Accueil Paysan farms in France also epitomise the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’. While there is no indication that the ‘gastronomic aesthetic’ will seriously challenge the dominant ‘aesthetic of entertainment’, there is no reason why both will not continue to coexist in the hospitality industry. This means that it will be increasingly important that the host — or the ‘culinary broker’, who may be a waiter, guide, local friend or host who can explain a restaurant’s menu, the ordering of a meal and how it should be eaten (Cohen & Avieli, 2004) — possess a thorough knowledge of the gastronomic resources available to
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him — not only what is produced, but how they are produced — and of the social, cultural and historical relevance of these resources, in order to satisfy guests’ desires for a meaningful and an authentic experience characterised by the human exchange involved. The study of gastronomy will therefore become an increasingly valid complement to other studies undertaken in the field of hospitality. For example, in the Graduate Program in Gastronomy at the University of Adelaide, the three core courses (Principles of Gastronomy; Food & Drink in Contemporary Western Society; and Gastronomy & Communication) sequentially introduce students to the theoretical foundations of gastronomy, challenge them to apply this theoretical understanding in a contemporary context and encourage them to express that understanding, whether in academic assignments or in more vocationally related tasks such as restaurant reviews. Students become aware of and appreciate the norms in their own and other cultures (for example, what is considered ‘good food’) and learn how such rules and norms originated and evolved, how they relate to peoples’ beliefs and values, and how they reflect climate and geography, agriculture and industry, commerce and trade. They also study how these norms might be changing, and how they are applied, in an increasingly globalised world. They develop an understanding of cuisine as a part of culture (cuisine is to ingredients what language is to words), and study how and why cuisines evolve and change. They recognise that foods are given and therefore carry particular meanings, and that these meanings can vary from one culture to another. In summary, they have a thorough grounding in the history and culture of food and drink. The final component of the Master of Arts award is a dissertation where students have the opportunity to apply the knowledge they have acquired to a research project on a topic of their choice. It is here that the relevance of the study of gastronomy to hospitality becomes most obvious. One student, for example, is investigating traditional Kenyan foods and dishes with a view to developing a more authentic Kenyan cuisine for the benefit of both the inhabitants of the country and visitors to Kenya. Another student is studying ‘soul food’ restaurants in Harlem, and their potential for gastronomic tourism, while in Thailand a student is looking at the role of hotels in gastronomic tourism and Thai culinary identity. Some students have chosen to research recent food history in Miami, Florida (Cuban influences) and Tucson, Arizona (indigenous plants) and its relationship to contemporary culinary identity. Australian students’ research topics include the Italian influences on Australian coffee culture, characteristics of regional cuisines in Australia, and the factors influencing dining decisions and food choices in contemporary Australia. Such projects, while manifestly in the domain of gastronomy, also have clear implications for hospitality (and tourism) in that they relate to the understanding of both what would give pleasure to guests and how these requirements might best be satisfied by the host with the resources available; they thus have significant potential to enhance host–guest relationships.
Conclusion When hospitality is seen as the provision of food and drink and accommodation, the emphasis falls naturally on the material aspects, the things provided. This chapter adopts a different perspective, accepting that while the provision of food and/or drink and/or accommodation are an essential part, hospitality is essentially a transaction between host and guest. It represents a human exchange, and has always been characterised by
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fundamental and elemental features: a concern for the pleasure and welfare of the guest, and reciprocity in terms of both benefit and obligation. Gastronomy, too, is often seen in basic terms of food and drink, and in particular, the consumption of high-quality food and drink in a restaurant setting. Again, this chapter proposes a different interpretation, arguing that gastronomy relates more to a comprehensive understanding of food and drink which, when shared with others, enhances their enjoyment of eating and drinking. This interpretation allows gastronomy to extend its compass to all consumption, from the simplest cabbage to the rarest caviar, rather than focusing on exclusively restaurant or expensive fare. The affinities between hospitality and gastronomy are obvious, not only because food and drink are central elements in both but because food and drink are the means of communication and therefore serve to promote the human exchange (Douglas, 1982). As allies then, it is logical that hospitality studies should incorporate aspects of gastronomy, just as the study of gastronomy should draw attention to its relevance to hospitality.
References Accueil Paysan. L’Accueil Paysan: Sa Charte (©2002 Accueil Paysan). Available: http://www.accueil-paysan.com/charte.htm (Accessed: 2004, November 24). ATHENS 2004. (2004a). Catering: 12 million Olympic meals, 400,000 meals per day! Available:http://www.athens2004.com/athens2004/page/legacy?lang=en&cid=2d1a470429149f0 0VgnVCMServer28130b0aRCRD (Accessed: 2004, December 6). ATHENS 2004. (2004b). Legacy. Available: http://www.athens2004.com/en/Legacy (Accessed: 2004, December 6). Bienvenue à la Ferme (1994). Charte des Fermes Auberges “Bienvenue à la Ferme”, 15 June. Brillat-Savarin, J.-A. (1865). Physiologie du Goût (390pp.). [First published 1826.] Paris: Charpentier. Brillat-Savarin, J.-A. (1994). Physiology of taste. [Translation by Anne Drayton of Physiologie du Goût.] London: Penguin, 379 pp. Brotherton, B. (1999). Towards a definitive view of the nature of hospitality and hospitality management. International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management, 11(4), 165–173. Browner, J. (2003). The Duchess who wouldn’t sit down : An informal history of hospitality (198pp.). New York: Bloomsbury. Catholic Encyclopedia. Rule of St. Benedict (2003, November 3 – last update). Available: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/02436a.htm (Accessed: 2004, November 13). Cavallar, G. (2002). The rights of strangers : Theories of international hospitality, the global community, and political justice since Vitoria (421pp.). Aldershot: Ashgate. Cohen, E., & Avieli, N. (2004). Food in tourism: Attraction and impediment. Annals of Tourism Research, 31(4), 755–778. Douglas, M. (1982). Food studied as a system of communication. In: M. Douglas (Ed.), In the active voice (pp. 82–104). London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Ferguson, P. (1998). A cultural field in the making: Gastronomy in 19th-century France. American Journal of Sociology, 104(3), 597–641. Fieldhouse, P. (1986) Food & nutrition: Customs & culture (233pp.). London: Croom Helm. Garval, M. (2001). Grimod de la Reynière’s Almanach des Gourmands: Exploring the gastronomic new world of postrevolutionary France. In: L. R. Schehr, & A. S. Weiss (Eds), French food on the table, on the page, and in French Culture (262pp.). New York: Routledge.
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Gillespie, C. (2001). European gastronomy into the 21st century (207pp.). Oxford: ButterworthHeinemann. Gîtes de France. About Gîtes de France. Available: http://www.gites-de-france.fr/eng/index.htm (Accessed: 2004, November 24). Glare, P. G. W. (Ed.). (1973). Oxford Latin dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Grimod de la Reynière, A. B. L. (1983). Manuel des Amphitryons: Présentation de Misette Godard (292pp.). [First published 1808.] Paris: a.m.métailié. King, C. A. (1995). What is hospitality? International Journal of Hospitality Management, 14(3/4), 219–234. La Passion de l’Accueil (Copyright Maison de la France 2002-2004). Available: http://uk.franceguide.com/bienvenue_gp/mieuxvousaccueillir.asp?idc=13335&z1=O6w6hcyQ (Accessed: 2004, November 20). Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison, (Eds), In search of hospitality (pp. 1–17). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Liddell, H. G., & Scott, R. (1983). Greek–English lexicon (9th ed.) [First published 1843 and reprinted 1983.] Oxford: Clarendon Press. Macquarie Dictionary. (1981). Macquarie Library, St Leonards NSW, 2049pp. Mennell, S. (1985). All manners of food: Eating and taste in England and France from the middle ages to the present (380 pp.). Oxford: Blackwell. Miele, M., & Murdoch, J. (2002). The practical aesthetics of traditional cuisines: Slow food in Tuscany. Sociologia Ruralis, 42(4), 312–328. Minchin, E. (1987). Food fiction and food fact in Homer’s Iliad. Petits Propos Culinaires, 25, 42–49. OED Online. Welcome to OED Online, (Copyright © Oxford University Press 2004). Available: http://dictionary.oed.com/entrance.dtl (Accessed: 2004, November 16). Ory, P. (1997). Gastronomy. In: L. D. Kritzman, (Ed.), Realms of memory, vol. 2 of the construction of the French past (pp. 443–467). New York: Columbia University Press. Richards, G. (2002). Gastronomy: an essential ingredient in tourism production and consumption? In: A.-M. Hjalager, & G. Richards (Eds), Tourism and Gastronomy (p. 238). London and New York: Routledge. Santich, B. (1996a). Looking for flavour (249pp.). Adelaide: Wakefield Press. Santich, B. (1996b). Sustaining Gastronomy. In: B. Santich, J. Hillier, & C. Kerry, (Eds), Proceedings of the 8th symposium of Australian gastronomy: Sustaining gastronomy, 28–30 September 1994, Adelaide (pp. 1–2). Sardo, P. (2003). Dinners for ecogastronomes. Slow Ark, 4, 142–143. Shyrock, A. (2004). The new Jordanian hospitality: house, host and guest in the culture of public display. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 46, 35–62. Slow Food. Our philosophy. Available: http://www.slowfood.com/eng/sf_cose/sf_cose_filosofia.lasso (Accessed: 2004, December 7). Soriano, D. R. (2002). Customers’ expectations factors in restaurants. International Journal of Quality and Reliability Management, 19(8/9), 1055–1067. Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality (pp. 38–55). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Wilkins, J., & Hill, S. (1994). Archestratus: The life of luxury (110pp.). Totnes, Devon: Prospect Books. Winsted, K. F. (2000). Service behaviors that lead to satisfied customers. European Journal of Marketing, 34(3/4), 399–417. Zeldin, T. (1995). An intimate history of humanity (488pp.). London: Minerva.
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Chapter 5
Hospitality and Tourism in Ngadha: An Ethnographic Exploration Stroma Cole
Introduction Hospitality is the friendly and welcoming behaviour towards guests. Frequently it includes sharing food and drink (and accommodation) and thus establishes and maintains relationships. Mennel, Murcott, and Van Otterloo (1992), following Van Gennep, suggest that sharing food is held to signify togetherness, an equivalence among a group that defines and reaffirms insiders as socially similar. Lashley (2000) suggests that in the private domain, the sharing of food and drink between hosts and guests is based on mutual obligations and on reciprocity ‘the guests becomes a host on another occasion’ (p. 9). Furthermore, hospitality converts strangers into friends Selwyn (2000). The host–guest relationship is one of power and control. Being a host means having an element of power over your guest. Selwyn (2000) suggests that there is an exchange of honour and the guest signals his acceptance of the moral authority of the host. Erb (2000) discusses how hosting and rituals are ways to domesticate and control the unknown ‘other’ who penetrates the circle of the hosts home, hearth and social world (p. 720). The hosts have control and put the guests into a relationship of dependency and debt. This chapter provides an in-depth insight into the hosting and rituals performed by one ethnic group within their host community and as applied to the domestication and control of the ‘other’, in this case represented by the tourists. It adopts a research methodology that employs ethnography in the exploration of hospitality in Ngadha, Flores, Indonesia. Specifically, the content of the chapter examines a feast to explore the mutual obligations, reciprocity and public displays of connectedness of Ngadha hospitality. Following an outline of the setting and the research process, the chapter describes a house-building ritual and examines the importance of the feast. It will also reveal how feasts celebrate relationships, express order, boast riches, and enhance status (Visser, 1991). The chapter also examines Ngadha’s newest guests — tourists, and asks how far these strangers are turned into friends, as Andrews (2000) suggests, and if hospitality extended to them can be Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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described as mutual or reciprocal. This serves to deepen understanding relative to contemporary manifestations of hospitality within a world of global mobility through tourism.
The Setting The research took place in two villages in Ngadha. Ngadha is an area that approximates to the southwest third of the Ngada regency of Flores, Nusa Tenggara Timor, Indonesia. The area lies between two of east Indonesia’s renowned attractions. To the east is Keli Mutu, a volcano with three different coloured lakes at its peak. To the west lies Komodo National Park famed for its ‘dragons’ (Varamus komodoensis). The villages lie in a rugged mountainous region with steep slopes and poor soils. The villagers are largely subsistence agriculturists growing maize and vegetables for their own consumption. A variety of cash crops are grown including beans, coffee, vanilla and pepper. Income is supplemented by craft production, which is subject to village and gender specialisation. The area is one of the poorest in Indonesia and it is considered that the area’s best option for economic development is tourism (Umbu Peku Djawang, 1991). The villages began to be visited by ‘drifters’ in the 1980s and have seen an increasing number of tourists ever since. Nearly all tourists who visit Flores are of a ‘hardy type’ (Erb, 2000). However there are a variety of types of tourists that who visit the area (Cole, 2000, 2003a), including increasing number of special interest tour groups and school and college groups from Australia. The most popular village, Bena, received 9000 tourists in 1997 (Regency Department of Education and Culture, 1998). Positioning the Researcher The study was carried out between 1989 and 2003, during which time my position as researcher changed. Between 1989 and 1994, as a tour operator, I took groups of 12 tourists at a time to stay in Ngadha villages. In 1996 a Participatory Rural Appraisal was carried out. Between July 1998 and February 1999 I spent eight months carrying out ethnographic fieldwork in two villages to investigate the values, attitudes, perceptions and priorities of the actors in tourism. Participant observation, interviews and focus groups with villagers were undertaken. Tourists were observed, interviewed and surveyed. Research into guides and guiding involved a focus group, interviews, covert and participant observation. Semi-structured interviews with government officials were carried out in the provincial Tourism Department, in the regency Tourism Department and in the regency Department of Education and Culture. I returned to the field in 2001, 2003 and 2005.
Ngadha – A House-Based Society The house is the central organising principle of Ngadha society. As in the Levi Straussian concept of societas a maison (1983), Ngadha houses endure through time, through the holding of property and the transmission of names. All members of Ngadha society belong
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to a clan. Each clan has four or more named houses, or sa’o that are hierarchically ordered. Members of a sa’o are an extended group of kin related through females. Each House is headed by a donggo sa’o (keeper),1 a woman chosen by her extended family who must smile easily, be a good cook, be hospitable, able to organise, able to take responsibility and not get angry easily. They are special women, indeed. Houses belonging between two and 15 clans, are arranged in two parallel lines or along four sides of a rectangle to form a nua. Not everybody lives permanently in the nua. Many villagers live in the surrounding countryside but are members of a nua just as they are members of a sa’o. In the centre of the nua are a number of bhaga (miniature houses representing the founding female ancestors) ngadhu, (thatched, forked, wooden posts representing the founding male ancestors) and peo (stones are used to tether buffalo before they are slaughtered). A sa’o has a name carried in a sacred dibbling stick belonging to the house. Becoming a sa’o is a long and expensive process. A house begins life as a small bamboo dwelling. Over a period of years, or generations it is successively rebuilt and extended using more durable wood. A true named house (sa’o ngaza) is built of a hard wood, Brassus flabellifer, has a high thatched roof, a name and a carved entry step (a kaba pere) into the inner sacred room. The growth from a small bamboo dwelling into a true named house is likened to life from babyhood, through childhood and adolescence to adulthood and maturity. Houses are not only symbolically living through indigenous cosmologies but they are given life force through rituals required for their construction (Waterson, 1990). House construction rituals are still widely practised in Ngadha and play an important part in the villagers’ lives. Ritual Life There are two central aspects to the villagers belief system: Catholicism and ancestor worship/veneration.2 The distinction is made locally, at least when speaking in Indonesian, ancestral respect and its complex of beliefs and rituals are referred to as adat and Catholicism as religion (agama). The villagers are firm believers in God and are regular church-goers; most pray before meals and many make the sign of the cross before drinks are sipped. Alongside this most observant and punctilious Catholicism, the influence of the ancestors remains equally important.3 Feasting in Ngadha is competitive. Boasts about rituals are made relating to the number of animals slaughtered and the number of guests who attend. As Daeng (1988) explains, the ancestors always favour the host whose feast lasted the longest and was attended by the most people. The distance that guests travel is also important. This, in part, explains why tourists are welcome at rituals.
Donggo ⫽ to live for; sa’o ⫽ house. Since the villagers are Catholics they prefer their old beliefs to be described as respect or veneration rather than worship. 3 Young people in focus groups were insistent that rituals for the ancestors remain an essential part of their lives and that, without them, the ancestors would cause harm, sickness and bad luck in their lives. 1 2
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After Reba, the annual harvest festival ritual, the most important ceremonies surround sa’o building and renovating. For every major house-building ritual feast, sa’o, family and in-laws will donate pigs. Pig donating and receiving is an important public demonstration of relationships, and depends on previous exchanges. Pigs are carried trussed up on bamboo poles and carried into a village for all villagers to inspect; the bigger the pig the more important the relationship between donor and recipient. The jaws of these pigs are kept and displayed outside, above the door. The number and size of jaws signifies the number of relationships and amount of goodwill. Past ceremonies are remembered through the number of animals slaughtered. The constant exchange of pigs is one of the ways family ties are maintained. All members of the nua, regardless of relationship, take a hanging basket of rice. The baskets of rice (and now sugar and coffee) maintain other social relations between the inhabitants of the nua. A Ngadha Feast In the villages where the research took place, two houses are re-thatched or refurbished each year. The rituals follow a similar format. Here I will describe the thatching and housebuilding finale that I attended in August 1998. Agreement from the ancestors is sought before any house-building begins via a ritual called a tau tibo which establishes the date for a ritual, and who should slaughter any buffalo. Elders carry this out in the inner sacred room of the clan’s highest-ranking house. The liver of a chicken is examined and messages from the ancestors, in the form of the lines in it, are read. The ancestors are then symbolically fed with the chicken liver, rice and palm spirit in the places they dwell in the inner sacred room. A meal is then shared between family members. On the morning of the ritual I attended, gongs were sounded to alert villagers from the surrounding villages. While villagers gathered and the last of the thatching grass was collected together, guests began to arrive. Each group brought baskets of rice, a pig trussed up on bamboo and bamboo tubes full of palm wine. After a speech by a male elder, recalling their ancestors, dancers from the host family made an anticlockwise circuit of the village and entered their house. Many of the village men and some of the younger women climbed on top of the roof in preparation to lay the thatch. The family took up their seating positions (as custom dictates) in the inner room, said prayers and ate three times. At the end, screams of excitement were let out and the thatching began. The clan’s chosen man (ngarabuu) holding some thatching grass danced, while the remaining bundles of thatching grass were thrown to those on the roof. The atmosphere was joyous with laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, the clan’s headwoman sat facing the thatching and observed. When the thatching was finished more dancing followed. Everyone watched as the buffalo was ceremoniously slaughtered in the centre of the village. The men crowded around the buffalo while the women watched from house verandas. Twenty-one pigs were then sacrificed, each by a single blow through the centre of their heads. An area in the middle of the nua was covered with large leaves where the innards of the buffalo and pigs are removed. The meat was then hacked into pieces with remarkable speed and taken to be cooked in half oil drums placed over open fires. While the men chopped up the meat, the women cooked the rice. For every pig donated a 3-kg basket of half-cooked compacted rice was prepared and taken to the new house.
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The clan’s headwoman sat in the inner sacred room and received the rice that was transferred into an enormous (1 m diameter and 1.2 m high) rice basket. Meanwhile her brother sat on the terrace as the half-cooked meat was delivered from the various make-shift fires. Each pig donor received back the front half of the pig and its innards. The innards were cooked in pig donors’ houses and eaten during the day, while the feast (mege) was being prepared. When the feast was ready the ngarabuu took a small piece of meat and placed it in his waistband. Likewise the donggo sa’o (headwoman) took a small amount of rice. This is done to ensure that the feast does not run out before the distribution is complete. On this occasion approximately 700 people from various villages were fed. The villagers sat on their verandas, and guests sat in lines in the centre of the village. The meat was transferred into buckets and the rice into medium-sized baskets. Men then served it, by hand (literally), into the baskets of the collected villagers and guests. The food is always served following an anticlockwise direction. Those who donated a pig had larger size baskets (and therefore received larger portions) than the majority who used standard eating baskets (wati). Once the food was served, the crowd dispersed and returned to re-cook the food in their homes. The next day, in pig donor houses, breakfast was pig head so that the jaws could be returned to the hosts. Donating a pig required constant to-ing and fro-ing between houses both within the nua and beyond; donating the pig, taking back the front half, and returning again with the jawbone. Each visit was a social occasion sharing palm wine and often a meal. The exchange of meat continued in other houses. Pig donor families gave nondonor families pieces of pork. Payment for borrowing such things as clothes, pans and PA system were all paid in pork. While the women were busy cutting, cooking and preserving cuts of pork, the men played cards ‘busy waiting for their stomachs to be refilled’. The Importance of the Feast There are a number of general reasons that Ngadha house rituals are important: • The house-based organisation of this society is continually reaffirmed when members of the sa’o that live elsewhere collect in the house for the duration of ceremonies. It also allowed members of different sa’o that live in remote locations to meet and develop relationships. With much eating, drinking, dancing and merriment, people told me it was an important opportunity to meet potential spouses. • The link between the living and the ancestors is maintained. The sacrifice of animals is more than just killing animals to eat, it is making them sacred by sharing them with unseen supernatural forces (Visser, 1991), in this case, the ancestors. The ancestors’ approval is sought, they are fed, and their names are recalled during speeches throughout the housebuilding rituals. In return, the ancestors protect, bless, provide health and harmony for the living. Feasts that feed the entire village and villagers from surrounding villages are justified on the grounds that: ‘the more the food is shared the greater is the blessing.’ • The mutual indebtedness and reciprocity (the glue of the society) is continued through pig exchange. Surplus foods are shared and will be returned when supplies are short. Pigs are donated and repaid between sa’o at most house-construction ceremonies. As villagers explained, ‘we are keeping relations into the next generation, we will continue to be connected’.
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• The rituals are an important way to affirm the status of the sa’o and the clan. The buffalo horns and jawbones of 21 pigs were hung outside the house. These will remain as a reminder of the status, number of relationships, amount of goodwill and influence the sa’o members have. The clan gained prestige from the redistribution of food. The clan and particularly the central house, publicly demonstrated organisational abilities that would have value beyond ceremonial and customary matters. • Hierarchy and status of individuals are also confirmed during the rituals. The ngarubuu wore a prominent corrie shell necklace throughout the ritual leaving observers in no doubt which man was the clan’s choice. Likewise, the clan’s head woman sat prominently and publicly guarding the thatching grass. The clan elder’s organisational and managerial talents were advanced in the public domain and give him individual prestige. • The ritual provided the opportunity for men to control the distribution of food. As I have suggested membership of sa’o is an extended group of kin related through females. Ngadha social organisation is based around matriliny and combined with matrilocal residence and the association of women with the house, the women have a social structural dominance, which complements the official state and Church ideology of male dominance (Waterston, 1990). Control over food production, preparation and distribution is normally in female hands. As with all ritual meals, the men prepared the meat and distributed the food. • At ceremonial meals the food is always served into baskets although plates have largely replaced the use of baskets for eating profane meals. Observation of tradition is particularly important during rituals. Feasts are an important time to celebrate what has been inherited from the past (Visser, 1991). • A large part of disposable income is used for these ceremonies, underlining the importance that this society places on them. • The view held by outsiders, in particular the state, Church and tourists, of this society as ‘traditional’ is particularly prominent during rituals. The state and Church have been instrumental in trying to cut down the numbers of animals slaughtered at rituals (see Cole, 2003b) but observing a sacrifice is especially prestigious for the traveller seeking the ‘authentic exotic’ which travelling to Ngadha potentially offers. • Finally, ethnic identity is celebrated through house-building rituals, as the sa’o is a strong cultural symbol for defining identity.
Tourism and Hospitality Tourists who visit Ngadha are seeking a view of traditional ethnic society. The majority of them visit only the nua. They do not venture outside the ritual centre of the villages. They walk around looking at the obvious cultural manifestations: Houses, ngadhu, bhaga and megaliths; they take photographs; some play with the children and give gifts of sweets and pens to them; some, with or without the help of guides, enter into conversations with the villagers. In one village, Bena, they may additionally examine and negotiate to buy ikat fabrics and other souvenirs, rest at the viewing post to take in the scenery, rest at the shop and buy drinks and biscuits. In the other village, Wogo, if tourists just looked at the village, the visit was over too quickly. If they lingered in the centre of the nua, the tourists were
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exposed and uncomfortable (and in direct tropical sun). Tourists employed strategies to prolong their stay. Some would sit, uninvited, on empty verandas, in which case they could be approached and communication might ensue. More often, tourists would approach children or communicate with children who approached them. They could use their basic Indonesian with less embarrassment with children. Giving out sweets, pens or balloons was frequently a strategy employed to open exchanges with children. All the villagers in the nua are used to playing host. As occupants of a sa’o the villagers are constantly receiving friends and relatives to stay. The villagers enjoy receiving guests and see tourists as an extension of this. Some young villagers were keen to practise their English and if a tourist’s visit coincided with coffee being prepared, it was common for them to be invited to join in. I have also observed tourists being offered a meal, if their visit coincided with a mealtime, and the tourists demonstrated enough cultural capital to ‘fit in’. The donggo sa’o is chosen for her hosting skills and is therefore the perfect person to deal with the constant stream of visitors. This sense of duty is extended to tourists. They are not family members with rights to be in the house, but they are ‘tamu negara’ (guests of the nation). It is a duty to the state to show them the utmost in hospitality.4 All members claim to like tourists, not to be bored with tourists, to want more tourists and wish to strengthen and extend their hospitality to tourists. Resoundingly, tourists are generally liked because, like most Indonesians, ‘the villagers like life to be noisy, crowded and lively’ (ramai) (Just, 2001, p. 55). In Bena, the women pointed out that tourists provide them with entertainment, something to look at and gossip about. All guests’ comings and goings in the nua were noted and talked about and tourists are no exception. The women of Bena were not bored watching tourists. Hair-styles, dress and body shape combined with the tourists’ origins, provided eternal conversation starters. On numerous occasions, while sitting on the veranda, visitors would be persuaded to stand up and stare at ‘such a fat’, ‘such an old’ or ‘such a strange’ tourist. Tourists who can converse in Indonesian, or who are prepared to converse through willing guides, are particularly liked, because they provide kakangai otaola , ‘a window on the world’.5 This important benefit of tourism is often expressed by explaining that, through tourists, it is possible to get messages from another world (Tuku mumu, nunga lema ).6 Through conversations with tourists, the villagers learn what goes on outside the area. The villagers liked the idea that they could exchange ideas with people from far afield and reiterated the pan-Indonesian saying: ‘many friends bring good fortune’ (‘banyak teman, banyak rejeki’). Or the local expression: ‘many friends much luck, few friends little luck’ (Hoga woe woso n’oe, hoga woe dhoso n’oe). A desire for contact with the wider world, combined with a wish for their culture to be known to the world, strengthened the villagers liking for tourists. A villager’s status is raised if they can boast a friend from afar. Just knowing a tourist’s name, age and origins will make them ‘a friend’ and thus a story to be recounted. Increased 4
Similarly, the Balinese hospitality offered to tourists is an extension of their tradition of accepting strangers (Sanger, 1988). 5 The local expression kakangai otaola would translate as ‘ventilation holes on the universe’. 6 Literally ‘to relate lips and bridge tongues’.
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status due to contact with the outside world is common in Indonesia. ‘As in Java, guests signify a host’s superior status, the greater distances travelled reflect a greater drawing power’ (Volkman, 1987, p. 167). As with many societies in the region, travel leads to knowledge and respect. This is summed up in another local expression: ‘wander away, seek knowledge; travel far, seek wisdom’ (la’a ezo, gae go be’o; la’a dada, gae go magha). As Caslake (1993) discusses, the tradition that a much-journeyed man can command considerable social prestige provides a basis for social interaction with travellers. Tourists at Feasts Villagers are not only happy for tourists to attend rituals, tourists are actively sought to take part in them. It is common for guides to be prewarned of rituals so that they can bring tourists. As has already been discussed, ‘the more the merrier’ (ramai) is a strong cultural value and the further people travel to attend a ritual the more importance is attached to it. Entertaining guests is a paramount objective of Ngadha feasting (Daeng, 1988) and status increases with the distance that guests travel (Volkman, 1985, p. 171). The news and stories of the festivities would be spread further afield, abroad in the case of tourists, and thus fame would be bestowed on the hosts. When tourists behave according to local protocol, dress up in ceremonial clothes, dance and take part in ritual meals they are fondly remembered. Rituals are identified and remembered as, for example, the one where ‘that German danced so well’. Many tourists promise to send photographs of rituals to villagers, and some do. This used to be the only source of photographs of special events that the villagers had which they appreciated. This is, however, becoming less important as relatives from metropolitan centres often have cameras. Tourists’ attendance at rituals does, however, bring stress and incipient annoyance of tourism to the surface. During rituals, villagers have a heightened regard for custom and the wishes of the ancestors. They are less tolerant of the cultural insensitivity that some tourists demonstrate. They complained about tourists not partaking in ritual food, about the inconsiderate taking of photographs and about tourists, particularly women, getting too close to the slaughter of buffalo. To refuse food offered is impolite and to refuse ritual food causes even greater offence. On a number of occasions at rituals, I would be required to eat five meals before mid-day and to refuse any of them would have been unacceptable. Eating a token amount or not finishing all that is provided does not cause bad feeling. On a number of occasions, tourists who were invited to a ritual left before the ritual meal was served. Villagers grudgingly accepted the tourists’ impatience to continue their journey but expressed displeasure. Other tourists who were offered ritual meals refused them, or accepted the food served to them but did not eat it. On one occasion a village women said to me, ‘If they are here they have to eat, this is adat (sacred) food’. Another said, ‘it is not ordinary food, if they refuse it the ancestors will be angry’. The refusing of ritual food was the most frequently mentioned complaint about tourists’ attendance at rituals. Tourists that attended rituals but did not partake in the meals could make the ancestors angry which the villagers believe could have repercussions for their well being.
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Tourists and Hospitality: Ambivalent Guests and Unbalanced Reciprocity Elsewhere (Cole, 2004) I have discussed at length why, if tourists are considered guests, they are in an ambivalent position. They do not wear smart clean clothes necessary in Ngadha to show respect to their hosts. They give gifts directly to individual children, rather than adult hosts, thus retaining control of gift distribution and transgressing the norms of gift giving in Ngadha culture. Tourists like to be the only tourists at a ritual whereas the villagers like the events to be as crowded as possible. Tourists lack patience at rituals and expect particular events at particular times. Ngadha rituals, however, are processional and take uncountable time to complete. Furthermore, as discussed, tourists often do not stay to eat or refuse ritual food; they fail to observe gendered space and are inconsiderate with their photography. Finally, many villagers say tourists fail to respond to the most basic of hospitality — a smile. On failing to respond to smiles, greetings and villagers’ questions, tourists fail to return hospitality and act as true guests. Erb (2000) suggests that residents of neighbouring Manggarai associate tourists with the unpredictable and unknown because of their cultural ignorance. However, they are accepted as guests in the hope they will become embedded in a web of reciprocal relations in which they will bear a debt, which theoretically must be perpetually repaid. This means residents hope to be able to call upon them at any time to give support, aid and protection. Based on observations of tourist–villager interactions in Ngadha, it would appear that hospitality fails to turn tourist strangers into friends and that through cultural ignorance tourists fail to accept the moral authority of their hosts. While the villagers may attempt to domesticate and control the unknown other (Erb, 2000, p. 720) it would appear that the tourists fail to honour their obligations as guests. In the most visited village, Bena, tourists are usually referred to as turis (tourist), whereas in Wogo they are normally referred to as tamu (guests). Could the difference signify a new understanding and categorising of these strangers? Unbalanced Reciprocity The literature on hospitality suggests that it is based on mutual obligation and reciprocity. Feasts in Ngadha involve the constant exchange of pigs, rice and toddy. Villagers are connected through this mutual obligation to exchange food and drink at feasts. Guests all contribute to feasts and their contributions are returned when they hold a similar feast. The guests indeed become hosts on another occasion as Lashley (2000) suggested. Tourists are welcomed guests at feasts. Few, however, even bring donations to contribute and they will not have the opportunity to act as hosts to Ngadha villagers. While some tourists share the villagers’ food, they then leave. If the sharing of food is held to signify togetherness or equivalence among groups and an affirmation as socially similar, in the case of tourists this is, at best, very temporary. Elsewhere, I have suggested that tourists bring inconvenience without economic advantage (Cole, 1997). I observed tourists being offered chicken (a very precious commodity) for dinner or villagers getting sugar on credit to put in coffee for tourists. Villagers appeared to be giving without receiving. However, tourists bring advantage of a different
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kind. They are guests from afar. Contact with the outside world brings status, and status increases with distances guests travel. Furthermore, when tourists join in the festivities, villagers, watching them dance, shreik with excitement and laughter. Events are made especially lively, noisy and entertaining (ramai) by the presence of tourists. Pig exchange between villagers is a form of balanced reciprocity — the exchange is like for like. Usually the same size pig is returned. On the way to market to buy a pig I was told, ‘we must get a big one, that’s what they gave us’. While tourists’ attendance at rituals may not appear reciprocal, on the surface it is also a form of exchange. The tourists have an exotic authentic experience (and a meal if they stay and eat it) while the hosts obtain status, a more ramai party and the possibility of a friend from afar.
Conclusion This case study provides an example of how hospitality operates in two different but overlapping social worlds. Between the villagers of Ngadha, the sharing of meat at housebuilding rituals signifies togetherness and reaffirms the villagers as socially similar. The constant exchange of pigs is based on mutual obligations, and the reciprocity is vital for maintaining social relations between groups of villagers. The elements of power, status, prestige, honour and moral authority of the hosts are demonstrated through the organisation of the ritual, slaughter of animals and distribution of meat. Hospitality is extended to a new form of guests — tourists. While the villagers attempt to convert these strangers into friends this is frequently a one-way process. A tourist may become a villager’s ‘friend’ and the villager may hope for an on-going relationship, but most tourists do not feel any mutual obligation. Some tourists experience a connectedness during rituals but this is of a temporary nature and the hospitality is not repaid. While the hospitality between villagers continues generations of pig exchange, the temporary reciprocity between villagers and tourists is less material. The former is a form of balanced reciprocity, while, in the latter case, the gifts brought by tourists are intangible.
References Andrews, H. (2000). Consuming hospitality on holiday. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Caslake, J. (1993). Tourism, culture and the Iban. In: V. King (Ed.), Tourism in Borneo. Borneo Research Council proceedings: Papers from the biennial International conference. Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia, July 1992. Cole, S. (1997). Anthropologists, local communities and sustainable tourist development, In: M. Stabler (Ed.), Sustainable tourism: From principles to practice. Oxford: CAB International. Cole, S. (2000). Post-modern tourist typologies: Case study from Flores, Indonesia. In: M. Robinson, P. Long, N. Evans, R. Sharpley, J. Swarbrooke (Eds), Reflections on international tourism. Business Education Publishers, Ltd sunderland. Cole, S. (2003a). Appropriated Meanings: Megaliths and tourism in eastern Indonesia. Indonesia and the Malay World, 31(89), 140–150.
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Cole, S. (2003b). Cultural tourism Development in Ngada, Flores, Indonesia. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis. London metropolitan University. Cole, S. (2004). Cultural values in conflict: Case study from Ngadha, Flores, Indonesia, Tourism: An interdisciplinary perspective. Special Issue: Cultural Differences in Tourism, 52(1), 91–101. Daeng, H. (1988). Ritual feasting and resource competition in Flores. In: M. Dove (Ed.) The real and imagined role of culture in development (pp. 254–267). Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Erb, M. (2000). Understanding tourists, interpretations from Indonesia. Annals of Tourism Research, 27(3), pp. 709–736. Just, P. (2001). Dou Donggo justice. Conflict and morality in an Indonesian society. Maryland: Rowman and Littlefeild Publishers Inc. Lashley, C., (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Lévi Strauss, C. (1983). The way of masks. London: Jonathan Cape. Mennel, S. Murcott, A., & Van Otterloo, A. (1992). The sociology of food: Eating, diet and culture. London: Sage. Regency Department of Education and Culture (1998). Unpublished statistics, Ngada, NTT, Indonesia. Sanger, A. (1988). Blessing or blight? The effects of touristic dance drama on village life in Singapadu. In: International Council for Traditional Music. The impact of tourism on traditional music (pp. 79–104). Kingston: Jamaica Memory Bank. Selwyn, T. (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Umbu Peku Djawang. (1991). The role of tourism in NTT development. In: C. Barlow, A. Bellis, & K. Andrews, (Ed.), Nusa Tenggara Timor: The challenge of development political and social change. Monograph 12, ANU University: Canberra. Visser, M. (1991). The rituals of dinner. London: Penguin Volkman, T. (1985). Feasts of honour. Ritual and change in the Toraja Highlands. Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Volkman, T. (1987). Mortuary tourism in Tana Toraja. In: R. Kipp, & S. Rodgers, (Eds), Indonesian religions in transition (pp 161–168). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Waterson, R. (1990). The living house: An anthropology of architecture in south - east Asia. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
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The Role of the Hospitality Industry in Cultural Assimilation: A Case Study from Colonial Australia Barry O’Mahony
Introduction According to Walton (2000, p. 57) ‘Commercial hospitality has its roots in supplying to travellers, through the market, the basic human needs of food, drink, shelter and rest’. Although the hospitality industry in the Australian state of Victoria did not commence until 1836, in the main, it followed the pattern outlined by Walton above. In the early years travellers were pastoralists and their basic needs en-route to market created a first demand for hospitality services. In the 1850s, the discovery of gold in rural Victoria opened up new travel routes, which led to a rapid expansion of the fledgling hospitality industry. Using public records newspapers of the period and a recently published family history, this chapter examines the involvement of Irish migrants in the hospitality industry in Victoria during the mid-to-late 1800s. The chapter explains the motivations for their engagement and discusses, with reference to recent hospitality studies theory, how their involvement in the industry allowed them to successfully assimilate into Australian society. In doing so it provides a powerful example of nation as host and immigrant as guest of the nation as referred to in the work associated with Derrida and Dufourmantelle (2002) and Ben Jelloun (1999), for example.
Early Melbourne and Hospitality Industry Conditions Considering that white settlement commenced in New South Wales in 1788, the Port Phillip District, now known as Victoria, and its township Melbourne was relatively late in achieving colonial status. Governor Bourke granted official approval for private settlement on 3 March 1837, mainly to consolidate a growing move by pastoralists to procure land to Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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raise sheep (Clark, 1973). Immediately prior to Bourke’s official visit, it was estimated that Port Phillip already contained 26,500 sheep and 100 cattle. Two years later, sheep had increased twelve-fold and there were 130 times as many cattle. The predominance of the pastoral economy continued and ‘by the middle of 1839, sheep numbers had leapt to half a million and cattle numbers to 15,000’ (Cannon, 1991, p. 8). Hospitality was also emerging as a major industry with public houses and hotels quickly becoming an important feature of Melbourne life. Indeed, a number were already trading prior to official settlement and this led Captain William Lonsdale, who had been engaged to govern the District, to write to the colonial secretary advising of the steps that he had taken to bring the selling of liquor under his control. In his letter to Major General Sir Richard Bourke dated 1 November 1836, he explained: … on my arrival here I found some persons had established Public Houses, and as it would be almost impossible to restrain them from selling I thought it better to come to an arrangement (Lonsdale, 1836, p. 1). Captain Lonsdale issued liquor licenses to existing establishments at a cost of £25 per annum. According to the Sydney Gazette three licences were issued at that time (Sydney Gazette 17 December 1836) and these were justified on the basis that ‘some of the houses will afford accommodation to respectable persons which is becoming necessary for Settlers coming from their Stations, or casual visitors’ (Lonsdale, 1836, p. 1). Growth in the hospitality industry was rapid. Cannon (1991, p. 422) advises, for example, that ‘by mid-1839 … twenty annual licences were being issued to publicans, mostly located in Melbourne’. Since the main activity of the District, raising cattle and sheep, took place in regional areas, the necessity to travel to market made it inevitable that the rest of the District would soon follow Melbourne’s lead. Regional expansion was indeed swift. Fleet (1979, p. 1) advises, for example, that ‘… soon after the first land sale…in 1837, inns and licensed grog huts were opened in the country at various places; about Geelong; on the track to Sydney, and in the Western District’. The importance of the emerging hospitality industry to the District’s economy was soon evident. Official accounts submitted for the period 1 July to 30 September 1837 show that income received from hospitality-related activities, including breaches of the licensing laws, had provided the State with £21 5s of a total income of £26 14s (Freeland, 1966). These benefits allowed expansion to continue and ‘… by 1845 there were over fifty licensed inns and hotels outside Melbourne, including two or three in Gippsland, eleven on Sydney Road, four east of Port Philip Bay, and the rest mainly around Geelong and the Western areas’ (Fleet, 1979, p. 1). By 1851 this number had more than doubled when a major gold strike occurred to Melbourne’s west, creating a massive upsurge in the number of travellers seeking food, drink and accommodation along the 100 mileGold Route (Serle, 1963). Many of these enterprises were initiated and operated by Irish immigrants to Australia.
The IRISH in AUSTRALIA The history of the Irish in Australia reflects a pattern of immigration waves, the first of which occurred in 1791 when 160 Irish convicts were transported directly from the Cobh
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of Cork to New South Wales. As a result of the demand for agricultural skills at that time, many Irish migrants and emancipated convicts were able to prosper. Referring to the Irish during the early years of colonisation, for example, Hirst (1983, p. 32) asserts that ‘a well disposed country worker transported to Australia and assigned to a settler found it very easy to adapt to what was required of him’. The Irish also came in for their fair share of government land grants, which allowed them to improve their social and financial position. Individual stories of their accomplishments abound within the historical literature. John Lacey, an emancipated convict, is but one example. He received a small grant of land in 1810 and went on to accumulate 1080 acres of prime agricultural land (Costello, 1987). However, the end of transportation in October 1840 marked the dawn of a new era because the supply of convict labour to private employers needed to be replaced by a labour force enticed to Australia by assisted immigration schemes. Since its foundation Melbourne had relied almost exclusively on free immigrant labour and two levels of government assistance, the Bounty System and the Assisted Passage Scheme, were essential to the provision of this labour pool. However, a ‘… combination of British recalcitrance, Irish eagerness, and colonial demand for unskilled labour ensured that the Irish were consistently over-represented among assisted immigrants’ (Fitzpatrick, 1995, p. 10). This created some tension within the community, which generally surfaced along religious lines. As O’Farrell notes, the English and Scots were all Protestants and the Irish were nearly all Catholics. Consequently, there was a … profound divergence in cultural background and orientation, world view, historical experience and sense of values. The reformation and the politics that followed it, had created a gulf across which English Protestant and Irish Catholic beheld each other with incomprehension, hatred and fear (O’Farrell, 1985, p. 3). When transportation ended, for example, Bishop Broughton, the Anglican Bishop of New South Wales, expressed the view that the evils of convictism would be replaced by a greater evil. He saw the Irish Catholic as the greatest threat to the colony and warned that ‘if the predominance of members of the Catholic faith were established in Australia by assisted immigration, the toleration and freedom of their own religious worship and rights would surely be interrupted’ (Broughton quoted in Clark, 1973, p. 179). So strong was this anti-Irish sentiment that the Sydney Herald went so far as to suggest that Australia might seek independence from Britain ‘… should the Irish Papist be sent out at Protestant expense’ (Sydney Herald, 17 October 1840). When the famine in Ireland prompted a new wave of Irish migration which included a number of young female orphans, immigration agent, Captain H. H. Browne publicly declared that Irish women were unsuitable for domestic service because they lacked refinement (Brown cited in Reid, 1998). There may have been some truth to this since the majority of Irish migrants arriving in colonial Australia came from rural backgrounds (Reid, 1998). Unlike England, which had rapidly industrialised, Belfast, with its large shipbuilding industry was the only industrially based Irish city. Even Dublin, the nation’s capital, was a town of administration rather than trade (McConville, 1987). Beyond these coastal towns, the major activity was farming and since the Irish that came to Australia during that time ‘… came from rural, small farm environments [they arrived with little other than farming skills]’ (Reid, 1998, p. 67).
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The most lucrative agriculturally based business in Australia at the time was largescale sheep farming (Serle, 1963). However, the cost of land, when available for sale, was inordinately high. Connell and Irving (1980) calculate that, in the 1840s, the cost of establishing a substantial station was in the region of £8000, while the minimum that was required to set up as a pastoralist was £500–£1000. They contend that ‘the smallest of these sums was far more than most working people in the colony, whose wages, might amount to £20 or £30 a year, could ever hope to own’ (Connell & Irving, 1980, p. 39). Joseph Beale, a recently arrived migrant from Ireland, confirms that little had changed over a decade later observing that ‘this colony is now getting overstocked with people as the Gov’t keeps the lands “locked up”, and no one can get a farm unless at an enormous price’ (Beale, 1853, p. 72). Consequently, Irish migrants arriving in Victoria were effectively farmers without land. Murtagh (1959) has noted their tenuous position in colonial society describing them as unprotected proletariats continually coming into conflict with the financially successful pastoralists in a battle for access to the land. Frustration at not being able to farm in their own right, and lower level employment opportunities such as farm labouring positions, led the Irish to seek social advancement by other means. One avenue by which this conflict was diffused and social improvement was achieved for Irish settlers was through engagement with the hospitality industry. While the implications of this engagement will be reflected upon in detail later in the chapter, it is notable, however, that at that time ‘bar work was one of the few areas available to unskilled men and women’ (Higgs, 1991, p. 70). More importantly, entry levels were low and the work was very well paid. Reporting on Melbourne in the 1890s, for example, Kirkby (1989) advises that a bar maid could expect to earn almost double the annual wage of her counterpart in domestic service. In addition, ‘with relatively small capital outputs, a woman could erect a humble inn with the potential to expand as the colony grew’ (Higgs, 1991, p. 70). If Irish women were perceived to be lacking in the genteel service skills required by those attempting to emulate the upper echelons of British society, their service skills were perfectly appropriate to the commercial hospitality industry. Moreover, the Irish were in a position to take advantage of the opportunities that arose, particularly in relation to public houses, because conditions in Irish society at that time exposed them to the culture associated with the consumption of alcoholic beverages. Malcolm (1986) provides a snapshot of the extent to which the Irish were involved in the production, distribution, preparation and consumption of alcohol. Her study confirms that there was a thriving liquor industry in Ireland throughout the 1800s and that liquor was so embedded in Irish society that much of the political commentary was focused on the excessive consumption of alcohol. This is supported by Lee (1989) whose historical account of the modernisation of Irish society confirms the importance of the public house in Irish society at that time. He notes, for example, that ‘virtually the only major expanding market dominated by Irish business was drink. The number of public houses increased from 15,000 in 1850 to nearly 20,000 in 1911’ (Lee, 1989, p. 14). The following section provides an insight to the regional development of one area and the manner in which immigrant ‘guests’ to Australia established themselves through the vehicle of hospitality businesses towards enhancing their social and economic status within the ‘host’ country.
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The Case of IRAMOO As previously noted, the growth of the hospitality industry mirrored the general development of the Port Phillip District with expansion stretching from city to country. One area that was slow to settle, however, was Footscray. Situated four miles from the City of Melbourne, Footscray derived its name from a hamlet in Kent in England. Previously known by its aboriginal name “Iramoo” meaning “Our Home”, the area was originally considered to hold promise for agriculture. Colonial surveyor Robert Hoddle asserted in 1839, for example, that the area was ‘… admirably adapted for cultivation …’ (Lack, 1991, p. 23). However, it was soon found that the flats, which were often inundated with floodwaters from the adjacent Saltwater River, were marshy and unproductive. As a result, it was not until 1851 that the first land sales occurred in the township (Footscray Advertiser, 1959). In contrast, the port of Williamstown to the south was rapidly expanding and Captain Lonsdale, in his position as the Melbourne Police Magistrate, was required to go there regularly (Cannon, 1991). While Williamstown was easily accessible by water, access by land involved a dangerous and arduous journey. Consequently, Captain Lonsdale was anxious to see the overland route shortened by installing a river crossing point at Footscray. He initiated the process in 1839 by using a road gang to clear away part of the riverbank so that it would be more accessible. The Port Phillip Gazette reported on these works on 11 May 1839, predicting that a steady flow of traffic would use the crossing. Captain Londsdale also provided a small ferry, however, he needed to find someone willing to operate it. To this end, he published notices in the Port Phillip Patriot and Melbourne Advertiser on 27 March advising of his intention to establish a punt (or ferry) on the Saltwater River ‘for the purpose of crossing travellers, and their horses to and from Williamstown, Geelong and that line of country’. River ferries were part of Melbourne city life at that time but were often run in conjunction with inns or hostelries. Captain Lonsdale’s proposition did not include a license to sell liquor, and consequently there was little response to his advertisement. This was evident when an application by Thomas Watt, an experienced ferryman who offered to base his business at Footscray was accepted but he was refused permission to keep a place for refreshment. Watt had a previous conviction for a breech of the liquor licensing laws and there were concerns about the type of establishment he might run (Lack, 1991, p. 421). As Cannon (1991) notes ‘one of the striking features of life in Melbourne was the rapid development of social classes’. He advises that there were three distinct divisions in colonial society that is, ‘gentlemen’, ‘improvers’ and the remainder of the population. These social distinctions were markedly evident in the hotel trade. ‘Some houses became known as exclusive resorts; others occupied a shifting middle ground; while the ‘lower classes’ tended to frequent grog shanties notorious for filth and crime’ (Cannon, 1991, p. 421). There was a reluctance to give out any new licences for grog shanties and the respectability or class of the applicant weighed heavily in the decision to accept or reject applications for licenses, a situation that has continued to this day. Several other unsuccessful liquor license applications are listed in the historical records, however, it was not until 1840 that the first license was granted to a Benjamin Levien. Levien was from a well-respected family that was already involved in a number of public houses in New South Wales. With the granting of the license, he built the Victoria Hotel,
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adjacent to the river crossing. He advertised his new premises to the public in the Port Phillip Herald with the following boast: To acquaint his friends and the public generally that a license having been granted to his house at the Saltwater River, he is enabled to offer accommodations of a superior description to such gentlemen as may favour him with their patronage. A choice collection of wines, Spirits &c, always on hand. In addition to the stabling attached to the Hotel, there are secured Cattle Yards and Sheep Pens erected (Port Phillip Herald cited in Lack, 1991, p. 28). Levien’s river punt was almost as lavish as his hotel. It was capable of pulling a 10-bullock team, and was fitted with lamps for night crossings (Cannon, 1991). However, Levien did not operate the hotel for long, selling out in September 1843. The inn changed hands three times over the next few years with each new owner changing the name, first to the Bush Inn and then to the Punt Inn. The longest serving landlord was Henry de Castres Kellett who took over the inn in 1846. His tenure came to an abrupt end early on the 17 January 1848, when a drunken servant left a candle burning on retiring causing a fire that completely destroyed the premises. The property was not insured and with damage estimated to be in the region of £400 the remains were placed on the market (Port Phillip Herald, 27 January 1848; Lack, 1991). Michael Lynch, an Irishman who had recently arrived as an assisted immigrant under the Bounty Scheme seized the opportunity. He had sailed from Ireland on 30 September 1840 on board the SS Himalaya. The ship’s disembarkation records list him as a shepherd from Queen’s County and he was 28 years of age on arrival. Although Lynch was from a rural farming background, he was already doing exceedingly well in the “new” country. He commenced his working life in Australia as a labourer but he soon rose in status acquiring the license for the Rising Sun Hotel in Elizabeth Street, Melbourne. Michael’s 21-year-old half-sister Margaret (Dowd), who had accompanied him on the voyage from Ireland, had also entered the hospitality industry taking a position as a bar maid at the Shamrock Hotel in Little Flinders Street. Although a city publican, Lynch had already had an opportunity to assess the Footscray area when he operated a bar at the nearby racecourse (now home of the Melbourne cup). Indeed, ‘… Lynch was one of a select bunch of publicans permitted by the stewards of the Annual Melbourne Races to operate a licensed booth on the course’ (Lack, 1991, p. 38). When the burned out shell of the Punt Inn was offered for sale he immediately secured it. The Port Phillip Herald reports that he bought the punt on the Saltwater River and that he intended to build ‘… an hotel on the site of one recently burned down’. However, Kellett’s licence was not transferred to Lynch, rather it was issued to Mr. William Pickett (Port Phillip Herald 9 March 1848). As previously noted, Michael Lynch’s half-sister Margaret had gained valuable experience working at the Shamrock hotel in the City of Melbourne. She had recently married William Picket and together they took over the management of the inn as well as the ferry crossing. When the license was renewed again in April 1849 the newspaper referred to the premises by the previous name, the Bush Inn (Melbourne Morning Herald, 5 April 1849). No explanation as to why this reversion occurred has been found. However, any confusion this report may have caused was likely to have favoured Michael Lynch because in June 1849 he had purchased a 30-acre block of land further up the river near the racecourse where he
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proposed to build another hotel (Selaf, 1989). He gave notice of his intentions in the Argus newspaper on 7 July 1849 as follows: SALT WATER PUNT Michael Lynch respectfully intimates to the public, that in consequence of the purchased land in the neighbourhood of the above punt being fenced in by the proprietors, and the swamp being impassable, he has made arrangements for the removal of the Punt, in order to accommodate the public, to a part of the Saltwater River a mile higher up and a little beyond the edge of the race course (The Argus cited in Lack, 1991, p. 39). Lynch was no doubt positioning himself to capitalise on the extra business that would be attracted to his hotel during race meetings but the risk of flooding may also have influenced the move. According to Lack (1991), the local aboriginal community had warned that massive flooding was a feature of the area but their warnings were ignored because only minor floods had occurred here during the early years of white settlement. In November 1849, however, floods devastated the whole area and parts of the Punt Inn were swept away leaving what remained completely inundated. Upstream Lynch’s new property was barely touched and the incident served to support his application for a transfer of license to the new premises. This was granted on 4 December 1849. Historical accounts of what happened next are somewhat confusing. Nevertheless, it is evident that when Lynch opened his new premises he transferred the name Punt Inn. The original property was also restored and later reopened as the Punt Hotel and was again managed by his half-sister and her husband William Pickett under a formal lease (Melbourne Morning Herald, 4 January 1850; Melbourne Morning Herald, 17 April 1850). These hospitality businesses were obviously providing financial stability and the opportunity for social improvement for both Michael Lynch and his extended family. This was confirmed when crown land was offered for auction in the township of Footscray on 12 September 1850. Lynch increased his holdings purchasing four lots and his brother-in-law, William Pickett, who was also in a position to purchase land, secured two lots at the same auction (Selaf, 1989). News of their success soon reached Ireland and it was not long before Michael’s other half-sister Anne set sail for Australia embarking from England on the sailing ship Una in July 1849 (Immigration Board’s List, 1849). She landed in Sydney where she disembarked with her husband Thomas in November that year along with 316 other government-assisted migrants (Sydney Morning Herald, 23 November 1849). The Immigration Board’s list for the Una records Anne as aged 25 and her husband Thomas Delaney as a 29-year-old farm labourer from Queens County. Their two-year-old son John and a female infant born on the voyage, whose name has not been recorded, are also noted (Immigration Board’s List, November 1849). Despite the fact that Anne’s sister Margaret and their half-brother Michael Lynch were living in Melbourne at that time, neither Thomas nor Anne admitted to having any relatives in Australia. This was not unusual, however, because assisted passengers were expected to settle in the colony that sponsored their passage. New South Wales was a favoured destination because the level of assistance was greater than the Port Phillip District at that time and migrants would often move on to Melbourne or Van Diemen’s Land from there (Greiner, 1966; Carstairs & Lane, 1988). The records of births, deaths
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and marriages for 1851 show that Thomas and Ann’s son Michael was born in Melbourne in October that year and that the family was resident at the Punt Inn, Michael Lynch’s second hotel. Following a similar pattern to her sister Margaret, Anne began by managing the punt ferry service on the Saltwater River. Shortly afterwards (in 1852) Thomas Delaney formerly applied for a licence for the inn near the racecourse. This was initially refused because the police objected to the application on the grounds that the premises were unfit (Melbourne Morning Herald, 21 April 1852). Thomas applied again in September that year, presumably having put the premises in order, and this time he was successful (Melbourne Morning Herald, 6 September 1852). By 1853 Thomas, like his in-laws before him, was in a position to buy land in his own right and he purchased four lots in Cowper Street, Footscray in January that year. His improved social status was not to last, however, on the 14 May 1853 he passed away suddenly at his home (Carstairs & Lane, 1988). Anne was left with four small children to care for just over three years after her arrival in Australia. She elected to continue to use the hospitality industry to improve her financial and social status and in June of that year she leased land from Michael Lynch at a rent of £580 per annum. The lease included the punt across the Saltwater River and good grazing land that ran along the river in what is modern day Footscray Park (Carstairs & Lane, 1988). Just five months after the death of her husband Thomas, Anne’s two-year-old toddler Michael became ill with bronchitis and died on 18 October 1853. The tragedies that befell Anne in 1853 did not dampen her work ethic. Her entrepreneurial spirit is manifest in the manner in which she used the hospitality industry to improve her circumstances. She ran the ferry on the river; kept livestock on the land she had leased and ran the Punt Inn. By the end of the year she had accumulated enough to increase her land holdings purchasing 75 acres of Crown land in Footscray. On 9 January 1854, she purchased another block of land on the corner of Bunbury and Whitehall streets (in Footscray) where she built a two-story house. Later in the year (June) she purchased another public house, the Ship Inn and four more blocks of land (Selaf, 1989; Carstairs & Lane, 1988; Lack, 1991). In August 1854, she married an English carpenter, Cuthbert Joseph Harrison, who was 11 years her junior. He quickly embraced the hospitality trade taking over the licence for the Punt Inn (Melbourne Morning Herald, 22 April 1857). Together Ann and Cuthbert built the jewel in the crown the Rising Sun Hotel in Yarraville. Having four inns and taverns at this stage they needed another licensee for the new premises. The Melbourne Morning Herald of 22 April 1857 lists Michael Dowd as the licensee of the new property and it transpires that this was Ann’s father who also migrated from Ireland and was living at the new premises. Harrison and his family achieved high social status gaining community respect as local business entities. Harrison went on to become an elected member of the Footscray council and both the Harrison and the Pickett families are remembered in the suburb with several streets named in their honour. The river crossing point was eventually replaced with a bridge, which was, and still is, named Lynch’s Bridge. Michael Lynch later moved to the Melbourne suburb of Hawthorn where he was a pillar of the community and is firmly bound up in the history of that suburb (Peel, Zion, & Yule, 1993).
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The Hospitality Industry as a Means to Achieving Social Improvement While this is the story of the commercial hospitality experiences of a single Irish family, it provides context and meaning to MacDonagh’s (1986, p. 165) assertion that ‘they [the Irish] were grossly over-represented in some colonial police forces and in the liquor industries and trades …’ . Certainly the pattern of engagement with the hospitality industry that is evident in this case study is also apparent among other Irish migrants. Within the Footscray area alone, which was not known to have a large Irish community at that time, an analysis of newspaper reports reveals that many other hotels, inn and licensed premises were owned and managed by landlords with distinctly Irish names. The Melbourne Morning Herald dated 5 September 1858, for example, notes an application from John R. Murphy for a licence for Raleigh’s Punt Hotel further up the river towards the modern day suburb of Essendon. This was granted and a renewal is reported in the Argus on 18 April 1860. In 1856, the Stanley Arms in Footscray was licensed to Patrick Meagher who transferred the licence to Michael Ryan in 1867. Ryan held the licence until 1873 when it was transferred to Anna Maria Fenton (Williamstown Chronicle, 30 March 1867). The Point Hotel on Footscray Road in the nearby suburb of Kensington is another example. While not originally opened by Irish migrants, it was under Irish management by 1882 when the licence was taken over by P. O’Toole (Williamstown Chronicle, 21 October 1882). O’Toole transferred the licence to J. Murphy in 1883 who then passed it on, seven years later, to Mrs. O’Connell (Footscray Advertiser, 26 July 1890). Another Irish owner, James Hickey, held the licence for the Maribyrnong Hotel in 1877 (Williamstown Chronicle, 14 July 1877). Even the Railway Hotel in Nicholson St. (Footscray), opened in 1855 by William Powell, one of the first councilors of Footscray, changed hands in 1860 when Patrick Murphy took up the licence (Argus, 18 April 1860). Murphy sold out to Patrick Mitchell who transferred the licence to James Purcell in 1871 and he, in turn, sold out to Geoffrey Phelan in 1874 (Williamstown Chronicle, 25 March 1871, 26 September 1874). The Railway Refreshment Rooms were also licensed to James Purcell in 1877. Another Railway Hotel, situated up the track in Yarraville, also came under Irish ownership. The Footscray Independent, dated 13 December 1883 notes the licensee as James Hickey who is likely to be the same James Hickey at the Maribyrnong Hotel above. A year later the licence is transferred to William Kelly (Footscray Independent, 6 September 1884). In the hotels and inn located in the City of Melbourne there is also clear evidence that the Irish were disproportionately represented. A map of Melbourne displayed at the Carlton and United Brewery Museum illustrates and names all of the city’s hotels, inns and pubs of the period. This map shows that the number of licensed premises with Irish names such as Harp of Erin and the Limerick Arms was over 40% of the city’s total at that time. Although useful, this rough measure hides the true level of Irish engagement with the industry because the Irish were often not the first owners of licensed premises. Consequently, they inherited many hospitality businesses with less culturally distinct names. Matthew Toohey of Toohey’s Brewery fame is a good example. He diversified into the hospitality industry in 1858 obtaining a license for the Limerick Arms hotel in South
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Melbourne. Success at the Limerick Arms allowed Matthew to expand into another establishment and in 1861 he bought the Great Britain hotel (also located in South Melbourne).
A Reflection on Assimilation and Social Achievement As identified earlier in this chapter, the influx of Irish migrants to Australia that resulted from the famine in Ireland provoked tension within the host community in the mid-1800s. In the absence of available land, they were forced to diversify from their traditional agricultural employment because the availability and cost of land mitigated against their obtaining ownership. Nevertheless, their familiarity with the norms of hospitality provision positioned them to take advantage of the opportunities created by the demand for food, beverages and accommodation in the growing hospitality industry. Moreover, by choosing to enter the hospitality industry, the Irish did not come into conflict with the English. This was because, in general, occupations that involved the sale of liquor were not well regarded among the Protestant community, many of whom supported the temperance movement. Indeed, the liquor industry in colonial Australia was considered a lowly profession at least until the late 1800s when the Licensed Vintners’ Association deliberately set about “cleaning up” its image (Wright, 2001). The fact that many Irish migrants did not engage in traditionally Protestant occupations, therefore, allowed them to consolidate their position in the emerging society without providing unwanted competition for the mainly Protestant business community. The nature of their engagement in the hospitality industry would also have had a role in diffusing tension between Irish migrants and the host community because ‘the provision of food, drink and accommodation represents an act of friendship, [and] it creates symbolic ties between people which establish bonds between those involved in sharing hospitality’ (Lashley, 2000, p. 11). As a result, the sharing of hospitality in a commercial setting, which involves welcoming strangers, provided an opportunity for both sectors of colonial society (the Irish and the English) to engage with and learn about one another’s culture. Although it is acknowledged that the bonds to which Lashley is referring may have taken some time to form, the provision of hospitality does carry with it a number of obligations, one of which is to ensure the safety of guests. Indeed, ‘traditionally the most important responsibility of all was for a guest’s safety — hospitality was a kind of sanctuary, and the host was thought of as having undertaken a solemn obligation to make sure no harm came to his guest while under his roof’ (Telfer, 2000, p. 39). While this may be deemed to be hospitality in a private or social form, Telfer (2000) asserts that ‘… commercial hospitality at its best shares many features of private hospitality and that commercial hosts may possess the virtue of hospitableness’ (p. 40). In Ireland, hospitality and the consumption of alcohol were interconnected. Indeed, as early as 1775 Richard Twiss — an Englishman, who toured the country and later published his account in a book — noted that ‘hospitality and drinking went formerly hand in hand …’ (Twiss, 1775, cited in Malcolm, 1988, p. 45). Moreover, in an open market the issue of supply and demand, in relation to the provision of hospitality for financial gain, would at least ensure that commercial hosts would need to make every attempt to keep their guests happy. Within the types of establishments that were run in 19th century Victoria, the sharing of food and drink takes on another dimension. That is that the premises in which guests
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were invited to stay was also the family home. Lynch and McWhannell (2000, p. 104) explain this as ‘commercialized hospitality within the private home where the owners live on the premises and the public space is shared by visitors and the owner’s family’. In the hostelries that abounded during the period under review, almost every aspect of the provision of food, drink and accommodation was communal. Indeed, according to Higgs (1993), the drinking areas known as ‘Tap Rooms’ did not have a bar and seating was limited. As a result, drinking involved entering a communal space where beer and spirits were often drunk while standing in the host’s lounge room. Similarly, the dining areas were communal and this communality refers to the fact that, unlike restaurants today where people and groups of people have a table to themselves, in the inns and taverns of the mid-to-late-1800s all diners ate at the same communal table. Indeed, in his account of the evolution of restaurants, Symons (1982, p. 290) asserts that the universal way to serve meals ‘… was to place the pot or pots on the table for all to share. The food offered was whatever the host family decided to cook and as there was no commercial hospitality training at this time, this also had a cultural dimension. The following contemporary account of the period supports the view that guests at inns and taverns were considered to be partaking of hospitality within a home environment: There is no private house in which people can enjoy themselves so well as a capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that everybody should be easy, in the nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety: the master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests-the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him; and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man’s house, as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are sure of a welcome; and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No sir, there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn (Dr Johnson cited in Telfer, 2000, p. 50). Moreover, Darke and Gurney (2000:78) assert that hospitality ‘… represents in essence, the commodification of domestic labour’. They explain that ‘to use the term in this way involves an extended metaphor, implying that good practice in commercial hospitality is a simulation of a visit to the home of an ideal host, attentive to the guest’s every need’ (Darke & Gurney, 2000, p. 78). Symons (1982, p. 301) agrees with this pattern of evolution noting that ‘the concept of cookshop encourages us to think in terms of an incremental model of commercial cooking’ (p. 301). For him the evolution from domestic to commercial provision is clear, as he asserts that fine professional chefs can trace their heritage back and back. But this could be misleading because, characteristically, they have inherited the traditions of a distinct trade, but they have also remained close to the domestic cooking bubbling around them. Professional cooks compete with and negate, but also emerge from and depend upon, home cooks (p. 298).
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Cooking in the mid-1800s was at the hands of those who either learnt by trial and error or ‘… immigrants with some cooking experience or older women who had worked in various kitchens and had some experience …’ (pp. 94–95). Kingston (1994) notes, for example, that one of the first cookery schools was established in Sydney in 1883 as a private domestic cookery college for the upper classes. In the lower echelons of Australian society she asserts ‘few cooks had any training’ (p. 94). Thus, the Irish entry into the commercial hospitality industry in colonial Australia, represented the commodification of domestic provision. As a result, inviting guests into a commercial home environment would have provided an understanding of Irish culture and would have had the effect of smoothing relationships between the English and the Irish because The basic function of hospitality is to establish a relationship or to promote an already established relationship. Acts of hospitality achieve this in the course of exchanges of goods and services, both material and symbolic, between those who give hospitality (hosts) and those who receive it (guests). Since relationships necessarily evolve within moral frameworks, one of the principle functions of any act of hospitality is either in the case of an existing relationship to consolidate the recognition that hosts and guests already share the same moral universe or (in the case of a new relationship) to enable the construction of a moral universe to which both host guest agree to belong. Acts of hospitality thus either consolidate structures of relations by symbolically affirming them, or (in the case of the establishment of a new framework of relations) are structurally transformative’ (Lashley, 2000, p. 19). It is this transformation that leads to improved relations between those of different social backgrounds. Indeed, according to anthropologist Selwyn (2000, p. 26) ‘… one of the main functions of hospitality is to make friends and familiars out of strangers and enemies’, a particularly fitting quote in view of the “Old World” relationship between the English and the Irish. Here in the “New World”, the two entities found themselves engaging in new relationships with each other in a different social context.
Conclusion Through the role of hospitality in forging this new relationship, Anne Dowd and others like her, were pioneers of social reform. Their engagement with the hospitality industry was a key element in social improvement and social mobility. Indeed, a recent comprehensive study into the role of women in public houses by Wright (2001) shows how many women used hotels and public houses as a means to social improvement. A number of these entrepreneurs moved from the hospitality industry to land ownership, while others remained in the business and used their improved financial status to provide an education for their children, many of whom went on to enter the medical and legal professions (Wright, 2003; Ronayne, 2002). There is also ample evidence from Australian cultural history that new migrant groups from a variety of backgrounds have used a similar pattern of engagement to enter and
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advance themselves in their new host/Australian society. Many Italian migrants, for example, were involved in the production of fruit and vegetables. This was also a relatively uncontested business and, once established, they moved from cultivation into distribution and sales dominating the fruit and vegetable retail market (Pascoe, 1987). A similar pattern is evident among Greek migrants who entered society as fishermen and quickly took control of the distribution and retail sale of fish. Symons (1982) also notes the pattern of assimilation of the Chinese community, who began life in Australia as market gardeners in the 1800s. By the end of the century, however, many had made the transition from cultivation into distribution and were to be found as merchants and shopkeepers in Sydney and Melbourne (Bannerman, 1998). For the Irish and Irish women in particular, the hospitality industry was a sanctuary allowing them to find their feet in a new world and to engage in the New World from a commercial home environment. They forged their way in the new land exposing their customers to Irish culture and the customs of social hospitality through the provision of food drink and accommodation. As a result, their involvement in commercial hospitality has contributed to the special character of the hospitality industry in Australia, and their legacy is still in evidence today.
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Higgs, B. (1991). But I wouldn’t want my wife to work there! A history of discrimination against women in the hotel industry. Australian Feminist Studies, 14 (Summer) 69–81. Higgs, B. (1993). The licensed victuallers’ association of Port Phillip (1843–1910). B.A. (Hons) Thesis, LaTrobe University, Melbourne. Hirst, J. B. (1983). Convict society and its enemies: A history of early New South Wales. Sydney: George Allen & Unwin. Immigration Board’s List. (1849). The Sailing ship Una. Reel 62, Archives Office of New South Wales, Sydney. Kingston, B. (1994). Basket, bag and trolley. Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Kirkby, D. (1989). Women’s work as Barmaids’. Lilith, 6 (spring) 96. Lack, J. (1991). A history of footscray. Melbourne: Hargreen Publishing Company. Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 1–17). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Lee, J, (1989). The modernisation of Irish society 1848–1918. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan. Lonsdale, W. (1836). Letter from Captain William Lonsdale to Governor Bourke (1 November 1836), Colonial Secretary’s In-letter File, Archives Office of New South Wales, Sydney. Lynch, P., & McWhannell, D. (2000). Home and commercialised hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In Search of Hospitality: Theoretical Perspectives and Debates (pp. 100–117). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. MacDonagh, O. (1986). The Irish in Australia: A general view. In: O. MacDonagh, W. F. Mandle (Eds), Ireland and Irish-Australia: Studies in Cultural and Political History (pp. 155–174). London: Croom Helm. McConville, C. (1987). Croppies, Celts and Catholics: The Irish in Australia. Melbourne: Edward Arnold. Malcolm, E. (1986). Ireland sober, Ireland free. Dublin: Gill and MacMillan. Malcolm, E. (1988). The rise of the pub: A study in the disciplining of popular culture. In: J. Donnelly, & K. Miller (Eds), Irish popular culture 1650–1850. Dublin: Irish Academic Press. Murtagh, J. G. (1959). Australia: The Catholic chapter. Melbourne: The Polding Press. O’Farrell, P. (1985). The Catholic church and community: An Australian history. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. Pascoe, R. (1987). Buongiorno Australia : Our Italian heritage. Richmond, Victoria: Greenhouse Publications. Peel, V., Zion, D., & Yule, J. (1993). A history of Hawthorn. Melbourne University Press in association with the City of Hawthorn, Carlton, Vic. Reid, R. (1998). Dora McDonagh and her “sisters”: Irish female assisted immigration to New South Wales, c. 1848–1870. In: T. McClaughlin (Ed.), Irish Women in Colonial Australia (pp. 64–81). Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Ronayne, J. (2002). First fleet to federation : Irish supremacy in Colonial Australia. Dublin: Trinity College Dublin Press. Selaf, G. (Ed.). (1989). Footscray: A pictorial record of the municipality from 1859–1988. Melbourne: City of Footscray. Selwyn, T. (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 18–37). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Serle, G. (1963). The golden age: A history of the colony of Victoria, 1851–1961. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Select Committee on Irish Female Immigrants Report. (1859). Sydney: Government Printer. Symons, M. (1982). One continuous picnic: A history of eating in Australia. Adelaide: Duck Press.
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Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness, In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 38–55). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Walton. J. (2000). The hospitality trades: A social history. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Wright, C. (2001). Beyond the ladies lounge: A History of female publicans in Victoria 1875–1945, Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, The University of Melbourne, Melbourne. Wright, C. (2003). Ladies lounge: Australia’s female publicans. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press.
Newspapers The following newspapers are cited in this chapter. Dates of publication have been provided within the body of the chapter. The Advertiser The Age The Argus The Footscray Advertiser The Footscray Independent The Government Gazette (New South Wales) The Melbourne Morning Herald The Port Phillip Herald The Port Phillip Gazette The Port Phillip Patriot The Port Phillip Patriot and Melbourne Advertiser The Sydney Atlas The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser The Sydney Herald The Sydney Morning Herald The Williamstown Chronicle
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Hospitality and Urban Regeneration David Bell
Introduction The aim of this chapter is to explore the relationships between commercial hospitality practices and processes of urban regeneration. It investigates certain versions of hospitality and hospitableness that have come to be woven into the discourses and practices of urban regeneration schemes in UK cities (for the important distinction between hospitality and hospitableness, see Telfer, 2000). The chapter draws on some previous exploratory work on urban foodscapes and regeneration, based on selected areas of the city centre of Manchester, UK (Bell & Binnie, 2005). Places to eat and drink have come to occupy a central role in the production of new forms of city living associated with the revitalization of previously de-industrialized and rundown urban districts (Zukin, 1991). Drawing on insights from work in hospitality studies alongside research by cultural geographers into urban regeneration, exploration takes place as to how commercial hospitality is constructed and performed in regenerating neighbourhoods to encapsulate these new patterns of urban living — patterns often condensed to the short-hand ‘loft living’ (Zukin, 1982). In particular, by looking at two contrasting districts within Manchester city centre, the distinct ways in which urban regeneration, place promotion and civic boosterism all utilize food and drink hospitality spaces as public, social sites for the production and reproduction of ways of living in and visiting city-centre areas are analysed. The regeneration of the city of Manchester is widely cited as a ‘success story’. As a result of an enthusiastic embrace of entrepreneurial governance, the city has been radically transformed, with lavish new consumer spaces, loft living, revitalized public realms and post-industrial lifestyles centre-staged in its urban renaissance (Peck & Ward, 2002a). One powerful emblem of Manchester’s regeneration is the development of new spaces of commercial hospitality: restaurants and bars, food halls, delis and markets, boutique hotels. These are more than new spaces in which to eat, drink, socialize, etc. They are spaces for the forging of new modes of urban living — modes which work to redefine ideas like hospitality and hospitableness — which they both promote and provision. Commercial hospitality spaces are, therefore, theatres of regeneration as much as they are theatres of Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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consumption. Before focussing on Manchester, previous work that has explored the links between urban regeneration and urban foodscapes is reviewed.
Food and Regeneration Bars, cafes and restaurants have been recognised as playing a significant role in accounts of gentrification (Latham 2003, p. 706). In Landscapes of Power, Zukin (1991) draws a parallel between the transformations to New York’s cityspace brought about by processes of gentrification, and the rise of nouvelle cuisine: ‘gourmet food — specifically, the kind of reflexive consumption beyond the level of need that used to be called gastronomy — suggests an organization of consumption structurally similar to the deep palate of gentrification’ (p. 206). For Zukin, this is exemplified in how both urban gentrification and nouvelle cuisine appropriate and subvert ‘segmented vernacular traditions’ (p. 212) — building styles or cooking styles — leading to the serial reproduction of a narrow range of key elements and reflecting new regimes of the production and consumption of cultural value. Both gentrification and nouvelle cuisine ambivalently combine tradition with innovation, or authenticity with novelty. This ambivalence is symbolized for Zukin in the chasing out of ‘other’ occupants of space or providers of food, such as homeless people or ‘downtown cafeterias’: some vernacular traditions have less cultural value than others. Zukin also emphasizes the role of the ‘critical infrastructure’: ‘men and women who produce and consume, and also evaluate, new market-based cultural products’ (p. 201), and who have instigated ‘not just a shift in taste, but in the way taste is produced’ (p. 203). This critical infrastructure, made up of people sometimes referred to as ‘cultural intermediaries’ (see Featherstone, 1991), actively work — through both their jobs and through their leisure activities — to set the boundaries of legitimate taste, and to embody and perform taste through their crafting of a ‘lifestyle’. The commercial hospitality sector is a vital space in which taste is produced and consumed, through food and drink, music and décor, ambience and service style. Restaurants and bars are therefore very important in producing and continually reproducing the ‘feel’ and the ‘buzz’ of a particular neighbourhood, and in keeping it ‘hip’ — thereby fuelling the area’s on-going gentrification and regeneration. Eating out has become a central part of the ‘experience economy’ of cities (Pine & Gilmore, 1999) — Finkelstein (1999) renames eating out using the neologism ‘foodatainment’, to emphasize that it is about so much more than just eating. Foodatainment is regularly conscripted into the place promotion techniques so central to regeneration, with parts of the city particularly ‘sold’ on the basis of the food on offer — especially, perhaps, in the case of ‘ethnic’ foods, as in Chinatowns (Bell, 2004). Other ‘quarters’ of the city not previously associated so primarily with food and eating have also sought to capitalize on the boosterist possibilities that catering to visitors and city-dwellers provides — for example, witness the growing numbers of eateries in Manchester’s gay village, not so long ago associated purely with drinking, dancing and sex, but now drawing in the business lunch crowd and pre-club diners (Ryan & Fitzpatrick, 1996). However, the form of foodatainment emphasized by Finkelstein — high-style restaurant dining — is also accompanied by other forms
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of food-related entertainments, from the pleasures of wandering a sumptuous food hall or deli, visually consuming the produce on display, to the equally pleasurable but more everyday experiences of coffee shops, take-aways and local bars, in which different forms of hospitality and commensality are enacted. And, of course, the experience economy of cities or districts also has parallels in what might be called ‘drinkatainment’ — the production of themed bars and pubs, ranging from the staged authenticity of Irish theme pubs to Soviet styled vodka bars (Williams, 2000). Both foodatainment and drinkatainment have become cornerstones of the urban regeneration script, which increasingly emphasizes the value of the night-time economy to cities seeking to improve their fortunes (Chatterton & Hollands, 2003). However, the ways in which districts utilize foodatainment and drinkatainment produce radically different kinds of hospitality space and experience. Before exploring this in the context of Manchester, the broader context of urban regeneration in that city is explored.
Urban Regeneration in Manchester The city of Manchester suffered the common symptoms of economic and social downturn experienced by countless cities in the UK and elsewhere, from the late 1970s, as a result of global restructuring, manufacturing decline, the growth of off-centre retailing, deteriorating housing stock and social unrest (see Hall (1998) for an overview; for the national government policy response, see Rogers (1999)). The city’s regeneration throughout the 1990s was driven by public–private partnerships based on the forging of very close networks of trust between the City Council and the local business establishment. These networks had been developed in the city’s two unsuccessful bids to host the 1992 and 1996 Olympic Games, and the new form of urban governance shaped by the Olympic bids foreshadowed the business friendly, New Labour approach to urban regeneration (Peck & Ward, 2002a). Other distinctive features of Manchester’s regeneration model have included the vigorous promotion of city centre living, which has attracted over 10,000 people to live in the city centre since the mid-1990s. There has also been recognition of the economic value of the cultural and creative industries, as well as institutional support for the development of the city’s gay village, recognized as one of the most vibrant and dynamic gay spaces in Europe (Quilley, 1997). Arguably, the most vivid testament of Manchester’s success in regeneration is the city’s response to the IRA bomb that devastated the commercial core in 1996 (Holden, 2002). The bomb seriously damaged the heart of retailing in the city centre, including the Arndale Centre, the main shopping mall. It has been estimated that 49,000 m2 of retail space was rendered inoperable by the bomb, and that nearly 700 businesses were forced to relocate. Local politicians and business leaders were, however, quick to realize the opportunity that the bomb provided in terms of redesigning the fabric of the commercial centre of the city. A public–private regeneration company, Manchester Millennium Limited (MML), was established to co-ordinate the redevelopment of the city centre and to secure funding from the European Regional Development Fund, the City Council, central government and the private sector. The success of MML in attracting public and private investment was reflected in the scale and pace of rebuilding: within three years, major new public spaces were completed, including the pedestrianized Millennium Square and retail spaces such as
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the flagship Marks and Spencer’s store. Towards the end of 2000, the Printworks entertainment complex was opened just off Millennium Square (see below). Peck and Ward (2002b, p. 1) thus rightly call Manchester ‘always a city on the move’, highlighting the city’s ‘boisterous narrative of successful urban transformation’ and its ‘can-do entrepreneurialism’ (p. 3). They note that ‘Manchester has learned how to be very good — some would say the best — at the political theatre of regeneration, with its setpieces and carefully staged cast’ (p. 6). They also detect a culinary symptom of changing role of municipal government in the fact that ‘cappuccinos and designer cakes at meetings in café-bars replaced lukewarm tea and biscuits at the Town Hall’ (p. 13). Robson (2002) similarly tracks the evolving Manchester model of regeneration, including a 1990s ‘vision’ for the future focussed on repopulating the city centre with a high-spending population and creating a consumer base to the city, through ‘conscious encouragement of restaurants, clubs, cinemas, hotels and the like’ (p. 37). This vision, he adds, has been largely successfully realised: ‘a genuine market for central-city living has been created; and this in turn has helped to generate a local demand for a range of consumer goods and services that form the core of the city’s aspiration to become a post-industrial venue’ (p. 48). This transformation is as much about what Manchester means, and about promoting new modes of living in Manchester: ‘Dominating the public perception is the idea of the 24-hour city … [a] philosophy of urbanity, in which the city district (or quarter) should offer everything needed for daily existence … Work and leisure, private and public life, day and night, were to be synthesised; all the accepted break-points and boundaries cast away. … [T]his urbane vision presents plazas as more important than motorways, cafes than conference catering, and life in the crowd as more significant than private transactions’ (Mellor, 2002, pp. 219–221). That ‘life in the crowd’, moreover, connotes the virtues of hospitality and commensality: the crowd is not the anonymous, anomic sea of urban strangers, but a sea of possibilities — to encounter new experiences, meet new people, forge new ways of living. Nowhere is this more vividly played out than in the city’s developing commercial hospitality spaces.
Manchester’s New Hospitality Spaces Given the enormity and diversity of regeneration projects, past and present, in Manchester, two of the city centre’s ‘quarters’ have been specifically selected to focus discussion. The process of ‘quartering’ cities is itself a powerful and increasingly ubiquitous tool in regeneration, producing more-or-less tightly themed districts based around identity and/or activity seen to give the area a marketable distinctiveness — Chinatowns, gay villages, cultural quarters (see Bell & Jayne, 2003). Commercial hospitality spaces are central to the production of quarters, and to their on-going economic exploitation (Bell, 2004). Manchester has not been immune from ‘quarterization’, and the continuing regeneration of the city seems to be proliferating the quarters it contains. To say that cities are being increasingly quarterized does not, however, mean that all quarters are underpinned by the same logic, nor that they are developed and used in the same ways — as we shall see below. In each of the two examples that follow, focus is on one key development within each quarter to serve as an exemplar.
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The Printworks and the Millennium Quarter The Printworks is an iconic development of one of Manchester’s newest additions to its bulging list of ‘quarters’ — the Millennium Quarter. Opened in 2000 on the site where the printing presses of a national daily newspaper once churned out tabloid headlines, the Printworks is a themed space into which are squeezed a multitude of other themed spaces. The production of themed environments has developed progressively since the 1960s in the West, and involves the use of symbols and motifs that work to convey particular meanings about spaces and places to the people that occupy or use them, and to thereby organize or regulate human activity in accordance with the signification carried by the theming. Most commonly, this means enticing people into acts of consumption through the use of themed motifs connoting pleasure, fun and excitement (Gottdiener, 1997). While the Printworks’ attractions also number retail outlets, a gym and a state-of-the-art cinema multiplex, it is primarily host to a plethora of themed chain bars and restaurants. The overall feel and look of the Printworks echoes contemporary Las Vegas styling (although the owner and developer prefer to describe it as aiming to represent the ‘magic’ of a film set or stage show). The interior of this ‘entertainment mall’ is cut through by an indoor walkway themed as a streetscape, complete with blue sky and clouds projected onto its ‘living ceiling’, heavy use of neon signage, and even a sidewalk grate which periodically belches steam in homage to Hollywood’s version of New York’s streets. Individual outlets provide a bewildering array of themed eating and drinking experiences, again in a Vegas-like vista where one moves from Ireland to New Orleans in a matter of footsteps. The Printworks also hosts a Hard Rock Café, a hybrid Indian-Thai-Chinese restaurant, and a branch of the Wagamamma noodle bar, among its dozen-plus restaurants and thirty-plus bars. The Printworks is, in short, an important hub in the Millennium Quarter and in the broader regeneration of Manchester city centre; it draws in substantial numbers of customers, and is especially popular with young people. It epitomizes the idea of post-modern hospitality spaces described by Williams (2000), in its rich but dizzying clash of simulacra. However, its attractiveness to a young crowd and the style of its theming make it seem strangely at odds with some of the other spaces of the Millennium Quarter, even if these are no less themed — spaces such as Urbis, the city’s museum-about-the-city (see Hetherington, 2003), and the abutting Exchange Square, home to upscale retail outlets. Moreover, the overall theming of the Printworks as a particular type of consuming-experience space — dominated by large chain bars — has brought with it heightened surveillance and security, with bouncers policing behaviour and exacting door policies. In this respect, then, the Printworks at once represents a success — in producing an enticing hospitality space in a previously neglected part of the city centre that encapsulates the lively, youth-oriented pleasures of the 24-hour city — and yet also shows that producing spaces themed to attract crowds to eat and drink brings its own problems for city-centre management, with hospitality not always being paralleled by hospitablesness (Chatterton & Hollands, 2003). Love Saves The Day and the Northern Quarter Love Saves The Day (LSTD to its regulars) is a deli-cum-eatery that has come to assume iconic status in Manchester’s Northern Quarter and has become a destination deli for
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Manchester’s gastronomes (there is a second, more recent branch elsewhere in the city). From 1999 to 2005, LSTD was housed in one of the ground-floor retail units in the redeveloped Smithfield Buildings, a loft complex completed in 1998. Its setting, the Northern Quarter, is recognized as a particularly bohemian Manchester neighbourhood, famed for its ‘shabby chic’ mix of small creative businesses, loft redevelopments, independent retailers and varied food spaces (on the broader context of regeneration in the Northern Quarter, see Wansborough & Mageean, 2000). Styled with the post-industrial motifs characteristic of the Smithfield development and of countless other loft–apartment plus boutique–retail complexes (see Esperdy, 2002), LSTD offers a mixture of ready-prepared food to take home, an eat-in menu and a small range of deli staples (coffees, teas and condiments). It also has an extensive wine stock, and regularly holds wine-tasting evenings as well as themed food nights. It therefore encapsulates and provides for the culinary needs of the urban loft livers of the Northern Quarter, people like those described by Duruz (2000) as taste-rich but time-poor. Over the six years since it opened, LSTD has gradually decreased the floorspace given over to shelves of provisions to take home, and increased space dedicated to eating on site: it now has over 50 covers inside, and has more recently expanded outside, offering a few tables on the street, in a ‘piazza’ tucked between a multi-storey carpark and adjacent streets. This outdoor eating space represents a curious contact zone since its tables are often occupied not by LSTD customers, but by homeless people supping cans of cheap lager or just sitting in the sun. In many ways, this is typical of the Northern Quarter, a space which accommodates a diversity of activities and lifestyles that contest claims that it is a wholly gentrified boho neighbourhood. Other food spaces in the Northern Quarter echo this mixing: alongside icons of regeneration like LSTD, outlets selling low-cost take-out and eat-in foods, including large numbers of cheap ethnic eateries that have traditionally served the city’s immigrant communities, continue to flourish — indeed new ones to continue to open up — and ‘trendy’ bars sit alongside spit-and-sawdust pubs. Just round the corner from LSTD, for example, a small outdoor fruit and veg market offers cheap fresh produce. So, where Zukin (1991) saw gentrification chasing out vernacular traditions and lifestyles in downtown New York, what we can see in the Northern Quarter is the rubbing-along of boho food spaces like LSTD with pre-existing cafes, bars and eateries. While local concerns are being raised about hikes in rents and business rates leading to smaller businesses being priced out, and some commentators predict a wholesale shift to up-market consumption spaces in the near future, at present the Northern Quarter contains both old and new hospitality spaces that productively co-exist in the neighbourhood, helping to produce new patterns of consumption and new ways of urban living — a mixed-use, convivial ecology accommodating the old and the new, tradition and innovation. In the Northern Quarter, therefore, it seems that the most successful of the new food venues opening up manage to connect with pre-existing social and spatial relations, rather than erasing them. Latham (2003) found a similar ‘ecology’ in his study of commercial hospitality spaces in Auckland, New Zealand as discussed below. What these contrasting food spaces reveal, then, is that the transformations brought about by Manchester’s regeneration have not resulted solely in a homogenized, purified set of spaces and experiences. While the scale and volume of food spaces has increased
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remarkably, so has the diversity of consumption sites. The Printworks epitomizes the theming approach, in which a sequence of staged experiences is produced in an effort to encourage particular forms of consumption (while also discouraging others); however, even here, we can witness greater differentiation in terms of use than such strict theming is supposed to allow. In producing a particular kind of hospitality experience, in promoting particular versions of foodatainment and drinkatainment, the Printworks has a key role to play in rewriting the script of city living in Manchester. LSTD, meanwhile, has nestled into the pre-existing food spaces of the Northern Quarter, and while it has been followed by subsequent waves of boho bars, cafes and eateries, this influx has not crowded-out or priced-out older, vernacular food spaces in the Quarter; instead, a complex mix of hospitality spaces has evolved in the area. The next section reviews Latham’s important and insightful work, plus some related studies, in order to realize the broader significance of these new hospitality spaces.
New Urban Hospitality and Hospitableness At the heart of Latham’s (2003, p. 1699) ethnographic study of a neighbourhood in the Western Bays area of Auckland is his recognition of the ‘need to engage more positively with the broader contemporary enthusiasm for the city [by] … thinking carefully about both the context and the emergence of particular kinds of spaces and types of social practices associated with specific instances of urban change’. He is critical of many academics’ lack of understanding of the day-to-day uses of space, and of their vague idealization of the city against which ‘real’ cities are found wanting: ‘If urban political economists are staunchly uncompromising in their analysis of contemporary cities, they are strangely romantic in their view of how this ideal city should work’ (p. 1703). Through a case study of a small area of Auckland — particularly a couple of streets — Latham detects a new form of public culture, based around cafes, bars and restaurants. Crucially he notes that ‘what is happening there is about more than an aesthetics of consumption’ (p. 1706); the cafes and bars have ‘acted as a key conduit for a new style of inhabiting the city’ (p. 1710). ‘Consumption has quite literally helped to build a new world’ (p. 1713), he writes — hence the importance of this kind of study of micro-practices, of how people make use of bars and cafes in their everyday lives, but also the importance of looking outwards, from the micro-practices, to witness their broader impacts. For as Latham shows, what goes on in these hospitality spaces is transforming the public culture and patterns of living in the neighbourhood. By focussing in on commercial hospitality spaces, Latham argues for a more contextualized understanding of the role these sites play in new patterns of urban living. He notes the key role of entrepreneurs in developing these spaces, showing that many of these key players saw what they were doing as ‘a kind of socio-cultural project’ (p. 1717) — they were invested in producing new ways of living (and not just new markets for their food and drink). Like the ‘critical infrastructure’ identified by Zukin (1991), the entrepreneurs creating hospitality spaces in this area of Auckland have played a crucial role in defining the ‘feel’ of the neighbourhood, and in consciously shaping their bars and cafes to promote particular kinds of conviviality, informality and hospitableness. Acting as cultural intermediaries, the bar and café owners have invested in more than their business as a business; they
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have invested in transforming the neighbourhood and the ways of life it contains. In Manchester’s Northern Quarter, retailers and residents have similarly collaborated on projects to transform that part of the city, forming the Northern Quarter Association as the body responsible for implementing a regeneration strategy in the area which ‘produced improvements in the urban public realm and has contributed to the development of a greater and more positive sense of place in the area’ (Wansborough & Mageean, 2000, p. 192). Connected to this has been a revitalization of cultural activity in the Northern Quarter, and an enhanced level of community participation in cultural events — another mirror of Latham’s (2003, p. 1717) claim that new commercial hospitality spaces can be part of a broader ‘socio-cultural project’ in a neighbourhood, embodied in the ‘ethos, aesthetics and clientele’ of the cafes and bars. These spaces have been catalytic rather than merely parasitic, suggesting a new way to expand the understanding of the kinds of hospitality provided and promoted by the commercial sector (Lashley, 2000). Importantly, Latham notes that the two streets he centred on, Ponsonby Road and Jervois Road, are not purified spaces of gentrification in which older, conflicting uses of space were chased or crowded out: ‘while the 1990s were perhaps most defined by the emergence of [new hospitality spaces characterized as hybrid bar-restaurants], there is no parallel collapse in the numbers of other forms of hospitality spaces. [The area continues to host] a diverse range of hospitality spaces from cheap cafes … to good-value ethnic restaurants … and even including a range of older-style male-oriented haunts’ (p. 1718). In place of the chasing out of pre-existing vernacular traditions described in downtown New York by Zukin (1991), therefore, a convivial, hospitable ‘ecology’ has emerged, through which hospitality and commensality are woven into new patterns of urban living. The conviviality, the commensality, the hospitableness of commercial venues is seen by Latham to spill out into the streets, generating ‘new solidarities and new collectivities’ (p. 1719), and a greater sense of belonging. Laurier and Philo (2002, p. 4) have similarly looked at the ‘communities of practice that are now found in cafes’ and at the micro-practices that owners, employees and customers perform to constitute the space of the café. Cafes have become, they write, ‘generative nodes’ or ‘heterotopias, where economic, political and cultural matters run up against one another and are mutually transformed’ (p. 6). Laurier has also explored the interactions in cafes with other colleagues (Laurier, Whyte, & Buckner, 2001). Their interest included investigating from an ethnomethodological perspective of how staff produce informality and intimacy, how customers become ‘regulars’ and then perform their ‘regularness’ (and how this is reproduced by staff) and how an ambience of openness and informality is maintained by ongoing interactions between staff and customers, regulars and newcomers. As they sum up, their study was in part about how mundane practices such as ‘queuing, reading door-signs, table setting, table clearing, chattering and sharing’ make the Flaming Cup — the café they studied — into a particular kind of ‘gathering place for its suburban neighbourhood’ (Laurier, Whyte, & Buckner, 2001, p. 23). Taken together, these ethnographic studies point to the importance of understanding how the performance of hospitality and hospitableness in commercial settings is engaged in by staff and customers alike, who all have at stake something more than getting fed or watered. What’s at stake cannot, moreover, be simply reduced to economic exchange; what’s at stake is a collective, creative endeavour to produce and reproduce staff-to-customer and
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customer-to-customer hospitableness as a concrete enactment of a new way of living in revitalized, regenerated urban neighbourhoods.
Conclusion Critics of Manchester’s entrepreneurial governance and urban regeneration agenda tend to overemphasize the purifying tendencies argued to erase local distinctiveness and reproduce ‘blandscapes’ that can be found in cities throughout the world (Hall, 1998). While there is some truth to this, in terms of the serial reproduction of dominant motifs of regeneration schemes in different cities, the textures of use and meaning, the interplay of pre-existing landscapes and lifestyles with those promoted by regeneration and gentrification, suggest that food and regeneration can combine in complex ways, to produce — at least sometimes, in some places — those new patterns of urban living that Latham describes. Central to those patterns is the deployment of hospitality and hospitableness in commercial spaces in ways that are not reducible to calculative, commercial imperatives. As Latham (2003, p. 1718) concludes, ‘for all the talk about money and profit that goes with talk of urban renaissance, it is … clear that the cultural is not determined by economics but that the two are more symbiotically intertwined’. What goes on in those hospitality spaces lines up more squarely with Conrad Lashley’s (2000) description of hospitality in the social setting — with the role of hospitality in building social cohesion. While the commercial hospitality sector has often been read as the stage for social differentiation and distinction, this does not have to follow. Commensality is not always a disguise for competition over taste; it can also be about social identification, for the sharing of not only food and drink but also worldviews and patterns of living. This is, in Telfer’s (2000, p. 49) words, ‘hybrid hospitality’ — an acknowledgement of the need to move beyond simple models of what counts as and motivates hospitality in private, social and commercial domains. This ‘hybridity’ also marks the transition from hospitality to hospitableness in these spaces, in recognition of the greater work taking place across the bar or at the table. It is here that cities and neighbourhoods are themselves made over as new hospitable places.
References Bell, D. (2004). Taste and space: Eating out in the city today. In: D. Sloan, (Ed), Culinary taste: Consumer behaviour in the international restaurant sector. (pp. 43–57). Oxford: Elsevier Butterworth-Heinemann. Bell, D, & Binnie, J. (2005). What’s eating Manchester? Gastro-culture and urban regeneration. Architectural Design, 75, 78–85 . Bell, D, & Jayne, M. (Ed.) (2003). City of quarters: Urban villages in the contemporary city. Aldershot: Ashgate. Chatterton, P, & Hollands, R. (2003). Urban nightscapes: Youth cultures, pleasure spaces and corporate power. London: Routledge. Duruz, J. (2000). A nice baked dinner … or two roast ducks from Chinatown? Identity grazing. Continuum 14, 289–301. Esperdy, G. (2002). Edible urbanism. Architectural Design 72, 44–50.
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Featherston, M. (1991). Consumer culture and postmodernism. London: Sage. Finkelstein, J. (1999). Foodatainment. Performance research 4, 130–136. Gottdiener, M. (1997). The theming of America: Dreams, visions, and commercial Spaces. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Hall, T. (1998). Urban Geography. London: Routledge. Hetherington, K. (2003). Urban regeneration, museums and symbolic economies: Manchester’s Urbis. Published by the Department of Sociology, University of Lancaster, at http:www.comp.lancs.ac.uk/sociology/papers/Hetherington-Urban-Regeneration.pdf Holden, A. (2002) Bomb sites: The politics of opportunity. In: J. Peck, & K. Ward (Ed.), City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester (pp. 133–154). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Ed.), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 1-17). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Latham, A. (2003). Urbanity, lifestyle and making sense of the new urban cultural economy: Notes from Auckland, New Zealand. Urban Studies 40, 1699–1724. Laurier, E., & Philo, C. (2002). The cappuccino community: Cafes and civic life in the contemporary city. Published by the Department of Geography and Geomatics, University of Glasgow, at http://www.geog.gla.ac.uk/olpapers/elaurier002.pdf Laurier, E., Whyte, A., & Buckner, K. (2001). An ethnography of a neighbourhood café: Informality, table arrangements and background noise. Journal of Mundane Behavior 2, 1–30. Available at http://www.mundanebehavior.org/issues/v2n2/laurier.html Mellor, R. (2002). Hypocritical city: Cycles of urban exclusion. In: J. Peck, & K. Ward (Ed.), City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester (pp. 214–235). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Peck, J., & Ward, K. (Ed.) (2002a). City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Peck, J., & Ward, K. (2002b). Placing Manchester. In: J. Peck, & K. Ward (Ed.), City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester (pp. 1-17). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Pine, B., & Gilmore, J. (1999). The experience economy: Work is theatre and every business is a stage. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Quilley, S. (1997). Constructing Manchester’s new urban village: Gay space and the entrepreneurial city. In: G. Ingram, A. Bouthillette, & Y. Retter (Ed.), Queers in space: Communities, public places, sites of resistance (pp. 275–292). Seattle: Bay Press. Robson, B. (2002). Mancunian ways: The politics of regeneration. In: J. Peck, & K. Ward (Ed.), City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester (pp. 34–49). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Rogers, R. (1999). Towards an urban renaissance. London: E. & F.N. Spon. Ryan, J., & Fitzpatrick, H. (1996). The space that difference makes: Negotiation and urban identities through consumption practices. In: J. O’Connor, & D. Wynne (Ed.), From the margins to the centre: Cultural production and consumption on the post-industrial city (pp. 169-202). Aldershot: Arena. Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison, (Ed.), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 38–55). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Wansborough, M., & Mageean, A. (2000). The role of urban design in cultural regeneration. Journal of Urban Design 5, 181–197. Williams, A. (2000). Consuming hospitality: Learning from post-modernism? In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Ed.), In Search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 217–234). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann.
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Williams, A. (2002). City building: Developing Manchester’s core. In: J. Peck, & K. Ward (Ed.), City of revolution: Restructuring Manchester (pp. 155–175). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Zukin, S. (1982). Loft living: Culture and capital in urban change. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Zukin, S. (1991). Landscapes of power: From Detroit to Disney World, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
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Introduction Hospitality is the act or practice of receiving and entertaining guests, visitors, or strangers, with liberality and goodwill. In Antiquity and through the Middle Ages, hospitality was commonly understood as a cultural and religious obligation. Of course, a good reception might have material as well as spiritual consequences. Abraham greeted and served three strangers at Mamre because he was a just man (Genesis 18), not because he expected in exchange to receive a son and the promise of tribal superiority. In modernity, the mask of liberality and goodwill must be maintained, but it does not fool anyone. Courtesy now is merely part of the package that the hospitality industry produces for sale. Courtesy has become a commodity. According to the Oxford Dictionary of Economics, a commodity is ‘a standardized good, which is traded in bulk and whose units are interchangeable’ (Black, 1997, p. 67; Baudrillard, 1981). A commodity thus lacks any of those particularities that identify it as an individual. One pound of rice is like any other pound of rice; one Campbell tomato soup can is indistinguishable from another Campbell tomato soup can. Commoditization of an object eliminates its distinctiveness and robs it of its particular identity. Identity inevitably involves a history, visible in the marks left on an entity by its human producers. An old Turkish carpet reveals its place and date of origin in its knots, colors, and patterns. The beauty of an old Turkish carpet lies at least in part in the felt presence of its maker. Commoditization steals an object’s history as it eliminates its particularity. Pork bellies and crude oil are commodities. Each pork belly and each drop of crude oil certainly has a history, but that history leaves no mark on the economic object. An investigation of the architecture of four buildings — selected arbitrarily from New York — suggests how hotels came to be equivalent to pork bellies and how they now attempt to veil that identification. Thus, through charting the architectural evolution of these hotels the process of
Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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physical and psychological commodification of hotel-based hospitality is demonstrated within the worlds of commerce, politics, and history.
The Old Waldorf-Astoria: Work The old Waldorf-Astoria was the largest and most luxuriously appointed hotel in the world in the 1890s (Hungerford, 1925). Outside and inside it manifested the history and skills of those who constructed it as well as those for whom it was constructed. Its location on Fifth Avenue was imbued with the status of the Astor mansions that it supplanted. The 13-story Waldorf took the form of a German Renaissance chateau, complete with conically capped turrets and multiple gables adorned with elaborately sculptured finials. The style suggested the German origins and baronial pretensions of its founder, William Waldorf Astor. It was opened on March 13, 1893. The hotel was expanded four years later with the massive addition of the Astoria. The supplement was several stories higher and even more richly historiated than the Waldorf. To the German Renaissance was added new variety: French Second Empire Mansard-roofed towers with iron-work cresting as well as Austrian Baroque onion-domes over corner turrets. The prodigious bulk of the whole structure dominated its neighborhood, dwarfing the grand mansions in its vicinity and, at the same time, assuming their social status. The immense complexity of the Waldorf-Astoria’s was matched by the scale and sumptuousness of its interior spaces. The greatest social spectacle was staged in a broad gallery that connected the feminized areas at the east end of the building (restaurants and ladies’ reception rooms) with the male-dominated domain at the west (the bar and celebrated Men’s Café). This great corridor soon became known as Peacock Alley, named by its critics for the remarkable display of plumage made in it by the New York elite. It is claimed that on a day when a president or prince might be seen, as many as 36,000 people might stroll down the Alley (McCarthy, 1931, p. 61). In addition to traditional hotel spaces — parlors, dining rooms, libraries — the hotel offered the three-story, amber-glass-domed Palm Garden, an ornate roof-garden, Turkish and Russian baths and an array of personal services (Tessendorf, 1997). All of the rooms in the hotel were immoderately decorated with marble, gold and art. ‘The piéce de rèsistance … is the magnificent ballroom, with a floor area of 65 ⫻ 95 ft and 40 ft from floor to ceiling … The style of the ballroom [is] Louis Quatorze. The ornament is in old ivory, and the curtains and furnishings of the two tiers of boxes are in crimson plush’ (Anonymous, 1898, p. 54). Many of the guestrooms were as lavish and eclectic as the public ones. The old Waldorf-Astoria had over a thousand rooms, including plush suites for both permanent residents and transients. No two rooms were identical. The individuality of the patron was mirrored in the distinctiveness of her room: the Turkish Room, which had ‘beautiful mosaic work’, as well as the sword of Napoleon I, the Marie Antoinette Room, the East India Suite, the Pompeiian Bedroom, or the Greek Bedroom (Boldt, 1903). Critics embraced the Waldorf-Astoria as ‘a marvel of size, construction and taste’ (Anonymous, 1898, p. 51). The rich variety of the spaces and accoutrements of the old Waldorf-Astoria insured its perception as a unique work. The highly crafted setting of the hotel demonstrated the labor expended on its construction. The commitment of the hundreds of skilled workers engaged in
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the building’s making generated the building’s aura. The human touch was present not only in the hotel’s fabric, but also in daily operation. The Waldorf-Astoria’s lavish staff attended to the guest’s every wish. According to a promotional brochure, ‘each floor is arranged as a separate hotel. It has its own clerical force, its telephones, private service of page boys, distinct force of waiters, special dumb waiter service, heating apparatus, and refrigerators’ (Boldt, 1903). Service at the Waldorf-Astoria was legendary. At a time when properly trained domestic servants were becoming scarce in the United States, the hotel also had a well-drilled army of attendants — three for every guest. The hotel purveyed its claim for a prominent place in society and, consequently, history, through its profligate display of labor. Henry James, the consummate observer of his bourgeois compatriots, identified the old Waldorf-Astoria as the quintessential expression of America. The hotel was, for James, the preeminent space of social definition in the United States at the beginning of the twentieth century: [At the Waldorf-Astoria] you are in presence of a revelation of the possibilities of the hotel — for which the American spirit has found so unprecedented a use and a value; leading it on to express so a social, indeed positively an aesthetic ideal, and making it so, at this supreme pitch, a synonym for civilization, for the capture of conceived manners themselves, that one is verily tempted to ask if the hotel-spirit may not just be the American spirit most seeking and most finding itself. (James, 1994, pp. 78–79) The American spirit embodied by the old Waldorf-Astoria was the unfettered free market. William Reedy, a western visitor to New York, characterized Peacock Alley as a speculative mall: ‘Here congregate the mining men who want to raise money to open up a new Golconda. Almost as numerous are the men who have wild-eyed schemes for the consolidation of railroads…. And then, too, there are the real men of affairs who hold court, as it were, for their satellites and issue to minions orders that have much bearing upon the affairs of the world’. He expresses his sense of the site’s ethical ambiguity: ‘But it is all a whirl. There is a certain splendor in it, of course, but the splendor doesn’t conceal the sordidness of it all. You look in the faces of these men and there’s no joy therein…. There is scarcely ever a gleam of soul to be discovered’ (McCarthy, 1931, p. 62). The historian, Jefferson Williamson (1930), portrays the hotel’s patrons more specifically: Throughout its existence it was filled with newly rich millionaires and limelight characters of all sorts. One of its first permanent guests was ‘Betchaa-Million’ (John W.) Gates, who paid the then stupendous sum of twenty thousand dollars a year for his apartment. He was the leader of what came to be known as the ‘Waldorf crowd’ of Wall Street plungers. James R. Keene, the noted speculator and horseman and his associates were Waldorf habitués, and for several years the house swarmed with Pittsburgh steel millionaires — Charles M. Schwab and the rest of Carnegie’s thirty ‘boys’ who rolled in riches overnight when the gigantic United States Steel Corporation was organized. It is said that the steel trust grew out of a suggestion first
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It was claimed by the management that 25 percent of the trade of the New York Stock Exchange was done at the hotel (Anonymous, 1929a, 3) The highly crafted, ornate old Waldorf-Astoria was the spatial expression of late nineteenth century monopoly capitalism. Labor remained a felt presence, in the building’s elaboration as much as in the disciplined ranks of servitors, even as it performed in the service of profit. The New Waldorf-Astoria: Product Hotels of distinction seek to do for their communities what the old Waldorf-Astoria did for New York at the turn of the century — provide a working version of a local utopia. In the United States, such a utopia necessarily involved speculation. Earlier American buildings had already established the model of the hotel as entrepreneurial enterprise. The Boston Exchange Coffee House and Hotel (1809), Barnum’s City Hotel in Baltimore (1826), Boston’s Tremont House (1829), and New York’s Astor House (1836) provided the pattern for the large and lavish urban hotel. In Europe, elite hotels like the Sacher in Vienna (1870s) or the Adlon in Berlin (1907) were family vocations. Their status depended on an aristocratic clientele. In America, grand hotels were commonly speculative. Prestige depended on profit. Europeans noticed that the American hotel functioned as a business rather than as a faux-home. Mr. Chambers, a British traveler writing for Chamber’s Journal in 1854, observed: We could hardly picture to ourselves a greater contrast than that between an old country and an American hotel. The two things are not in the least alike. Arriving at an inn in England, you are treated with immense deference, allowed the seclusion of a private apartment, charged exorbitantly for everything, and, at departure, curtsied and bowed out at the door, as if a prodigious favor had been conferred on the establishment. In the United States, things are managed differently…. [T]he proprietor of an American hotel is a capitalist at the head of a great concern, and would despise doing anything shabby; … he notices neither your coming nor going; without ceremony you are free of the establishment; and when you pay and depart, there are no bows, no thanks — but you are not fleeced; and that is always felt to be a comfort. (Anonymous, 1854, p. 339) Chambers recognized profit as the motivation for the American hotel but identified their standardization as freedom. Indeed, standardization was stubbornly understood by both Americans and foreigners as egalitarianism. In our great Republic we deck no palaces for our dignitaries; official power is too short-lived to require a gorgeous dwelling place. We are not, however, without magnificent and spacious habitations; but these, under the name of HOTELS, are erected ... not for a few of some exclusive caste or family, but
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for the traveling public of the whole nation and all nations; all may find a home in these palaces. (Anonymous, 1860, pp. 465–466) The exclusive and elite character of American hotels was occluded by their apparent acceptance of anyone offering the price of admission. In fact, exclusivity was maintained not only by the hotel’s high charges, but also by its more subtle proscriptive practices — dress codes, race discrimination, and gender segregation. American luxury hotels delimited a realm dominated by the entrepreneur and his minions, rather than aristocrats. The luxury hotel provided the stage on which the ascending capitalists fashioned their commercial as well as social rituals (Brucken, 1997). Most essentially, American hotels not only mirrored the class of their entrepreneurial patrons, but also contributed to its construction. By the early twentieth century, the American entrepreneurial class had changed: the robber baron was superceded by the C.E.O. The shift figured in the urban landscape. In 1929, the old Waldorf-Astoria hotel was demolished; on its site was constructed a great office structure, the Empire State Building (Robins, 1993). The literal displacement of the old Waldorf-Astoria by General Motors had its organizational counterpart in the management of the new Waldorf-Astoria. The new hotel was built not by a capitalist magnate to memorialize his family, but through bonds and common stock underwritten by a group of Wall Street banking houses. Even more fundamentally, the new Waldorf-Astoria was planned on the corporate model to produce luxury efficiently, with only the appearance of excess. Henry Ford established the technologies and labor practices of mass production in Highland Park plant in Michigan (1913–1914). Lucius Boomer, the manager, president and partial owner of the second Waldorf-Astoria after serving as the last general manager of the first one, put Ford’s principles into practice in his new hotel. Boomer explained the relevance of Fordist principles to the hotel industry in an article entitled, ‘How We Fitted Ford’s Principles to Our Business’, published in 1923. In it he discusses the means by which Ford’s principles of standardization, simplification, and control of the source of supply might be beneficially applied by hotel managers. In 1929, he put those principles to work in designing the new Waldorf. If anyone could be excused for feeling that modern methods of quantity production and of working to rigid specifications are not applicable to his business, it is the hotel man. And yet it is only by sedulously adopting Simplification that a big metropolitan hotel can over come the disadvantages of its complexities and exist at all. Although Simplification is absolutely essential to our success, it must not be manifest to the customer; he must feel that the service he gets is not machine service, but individual. The rooms, for instance, cannot be uniform as cells in a penitentiary are uniform, even though they be standardized to a high degree of luxury. (Boomer, 1923, p. 421) This passage witnesses a new consciousness of the profitable distinction between reality and appearance, between space as hand-crafted artifact and space as mass-produced commodity. A sumptuous setting was, of course, still assumed to be a necessary part of the
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product. The new Waldorf-Astoria was projected as the largest and most luxurious of the world’s deluxe hotels. Its deployment of high technologies, both seen and unseen, perpetuated the illusion of the guest’s uniqueness both by accommodating her new desires for new pleasures and by providing those pleasures with a degree of efficiency that promised to make them more profitable. The hotel was conceived in the boom years of the late 1920s, an era marked by its immoderation. Contracts for a new building that was to exceed all earlier manifestations of post-World War I opulence were let the week before the collapse of the stock market in October, 1929. The structure was built to its pre-Depression specifications between 1929 and 1931 despite the deepening financial crisis. The cost of the new hotel was estimated at $28,100,000; its projected earnings were $3,501,850 annually, or four and a half times the annual interest requirements. (Anonymous, 1929b) The new Waldorf-Astoria was constructed under the direction of the old management between 1929 and 1931 by the architectural firm of Schultze and Weaver. Leonard Schultze had been the chief designer for Grand Central Terminal (1903–1911) as well as a number of the most prominent luxury hotels, including the Sherry-Netherland, the Pierre, Parklane and Lexington in New York, as well as the Breakers in Palm Beach, and the Biltmores in Atlanta, Los Angeles, and Havana. The principal designer of the Waldorf-Astoria was Lloyd Morgan. He produced a classic Deco skyscraper that added a distinctive twin-peaked tower to the filigreed skyline of New York in the 1930s. The new Waldorf-Astoria was opened in the depths of the Depression on September 30, 1931. The event took on the proportions of a national celebration. The twenty thousand people who attended the opening ceremonies, along with millions of listeners nationwide, were addressed by President Herbert Hoover over the airwaves of the National Broadcasting Company: Our hotels have become community institutions. They are the center points of civic hospitality. They are the meeting place of a thousand community and national activities. They have come to be concerned in far larger vision than mere profit earning. If we considered them solely from an economic point of view we should find them among the nine leaders of American industry…. The erection of this great structure at this time has been a contribution to the maintenance of employment and is an exhibition of courage and confidence to the whole nation.(Anonymous, 1931b, 1) President Hoover’s elevated assessment was popularized in the press: After a survey of this greatest of modern hostelries, one wonders can anything ever excel it for future generations. Personally, I doubt if anything more perfect of its kind can ever be produced for the joy and comfort of mankind. It seems to me the supreme achievement of its kind…. We can think today of the greatest painting of the Renaissance, of the greatest Gothic cathedral…. Why should not the Waldorf-Astoria stand, perhaps, for all time to come, as the hotel unexcelled in splendor of architecture, richness of decoration, and beauty and peace of living conditions? (Roberts, 1931, p. 50)
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At 627 ft and 7 in., the new Waldorf-Astoria was reported to be the largest and highest hotel in the world (Anonymous, 1930a). It remains the largest super-deluxe hotel ever built. The 47-story building occupied an entire block on the east side of Park Avenue between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth Street. The structure’s impressive verticality was first emphasized through details derived from that most ascendant of all historical styles, the Gothic. In later drawings, the building was transformed into a Deco edifice without any loss of its will to ascendancy (Murchison, 1931). Documentation of the rationale for this particular stylistic shift has not been discovered, but Deco had several obvious advantages over the Gothic. Iconographically, Gothic displayed an attachment to the past; Deco embraced modernity and declared its values — dynamism, secularism, freedom. Fiscally, Deco involved less labor than the Gothic, with its complex architectural sculpture; gargoyles, tracery, capitals. Deco could appear lavish at less cost. Deco was also deployed in the decoration of the hotel’s public spaces. From the main entrance on Park Avenue the guest ascended a monumental staircase past gilded Deco vases to the main, two-story-high foyer. The floor was ornamented by a handsome mosaic medallion of the Four Seasons and the walls with frescoes of the labors of man, all the work of the well-known French artist, Louis Rigal. (Anonymous, 1931a, 1) The foyer prepared guests for the surprising excess of the main lobby at the core of the structure. Here a grand space was ordered by marble piers and mahogany veneer and ornamented with low-relief sculptural friezes. The Palm Court of the old Waldorf-Astoria was replaced as the focal architectural gesture by the main lobby with its reception desks: the core became a site of monetary rather than social exchange. The new Waldorf-Astoria was not only bigger than the old one, but it also offered technology in compensation for a decline in the relative number of servants. The hotel was initially designed with 2253 guestrooms. In the Towers, above the 20th floor, 500 deluxe suites were designed with 18-ft ceilings, open fireplaces, drawing rooms (45⬘ by 20⬘), ‘boudoir-baths’ (14⬘ by 18⬘), and servants’ quarters. The public rooms were larger than those of its predecessor, and their audiences exponentially greater as their events were often nationally broadcast. The new Waldorf-Astoria featured ‘The Starlight Roof’ with its electrically retractable roof for dining and dancing under the stars. The fabulously popular Guy Lombardo was broadcast nationwide from the Starlight Roof. The new WaldorfAstoria was equipped with radios that connected each room with the orchestral music performed within the hotel as well as with local and national broadcast stations. More remarkably, it was wired for television before television was commercially available. In the 1930s and early 1940s, it was the most extensively air-conditioned hotel in the world. (Anonymous, 1943, p. 9) The new Waldorf-Astoria embraced modern modes of transportation. In addition to a conventional main entrance on Park Avenue, the hotel provided a drive-through drop-off for guests arriving in their private automobiles. The exclusive and largely residential Towers had its own entrance opening both from Fiftieth Street and from mid-block drivethrough. More remarkably, below the building was a special sidetrack from Grand Central Terminal for the convenience of those guests arriving in their private train car. (Anonymous, 1931c). The decoration of the hotel externalized the Waldorf-Astoria’s ambivalent location between the profitable efficiencies of modernity and its pretence to traditional luxury.
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The hotel was schizophrenic. The glitzy Deco of the exterior and lobby spaces announced the hotel’s contemporaneity. In contrast, its private spaces were advertised as fashionably antique. French eighteenth-century and English eighteenth-century furnishings and decoration were deployed on alternate floors in the Towers. The rooms’ hardware was ordered to match. Gold-plated doorknobs and lock-faces were used on at least eight floors, at the cost of approximately $100,000 (Anonymous, 1930b). Deco gestured dangerously toward modernity: it rejected historical forms and embraced industrial lines and simplified nature. But the threat that Deco might reveal the hotel’s new concern with efficiency is emptied by its inconsistent and patently decorative deployment. The graceful crowns of the dual towers are all ornament; they are completely hollow above the 46th floor (Robins, 1993). Further, the guests’ taste for a past more expressive of luxury meant that Deco could not compete with the eighteenth century in the residential sphere. Though it was the dominant style of the Waldorf-Astoria, Deco was not the formal counterpart to a new technology, but rather another one of its mystifications. Efficiency remained masked at the new Waldorf-Astoria; its spaces were still unique — they were not yet commodities. New York Hilton: Commodity “The New York Hilton is the first ‘grand’ hotel to be built in New York City since the Waldorf-Astoria was completed over 30 years ago” (Anonymous, 1963a). So begins an article on the building in Architectural Record. Opened in 1963, the New York Hilton was, at the time of its construction, the most frequented hotel in the world. The hotel had 2165 guest rooms with bathrooms, kitchens and pantries to serve 12,000 diners simultaneously, and 23 banquet and meeting rooms. It was expected to cater to 3 million guests a year. The New York Hilton also showed some of the excesses that characterized the traditional grand hotel. According to its owners, ‘the ballroom, assembly and banquet facilities are the largest of any hotel in the world’ (Anonymous, 1963b, p. 80). There was, however, an absence of craft; the ballroom invoked its status more by its new gadgetry, then its ornament. Huge Grand Ballroom can be divided into four parts by folding walls that slide out of sight. They are effective at stopping sound, especially the walls between the East and West Ballrooms, which are double. The room’s total dimensions are 204 by 136 feet, its capacity 5,000 for a meeting, 4,000 for dining. Fore-stage on hydraulic lift sinks level with the floor for dances. Carpet was made in sections to be easily laid or removed. (Anonymous, 1963b, p. 80) The Hilton also responded to changes in the transportation preferences of its most distinguished guests: [T]he New York Hilton features a 350-car underground, drive-in-yourself garage from which the arriving guest who wishes to avoid the public lobbies may register and ascend by special elevator directly to the corridor of his floor and on to his room. The Hilton … hopes to woo certain dignitaries
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and heads of state away from the Carlyle and the St. Regis by means of five luxury tower suites and two of what it calls ‘supersuites’ on the penthouse floor. When an important personage, residing elsewhere but visiting the hotel to preside at a great banquet or assembly, arrives at the West 54th Street entrance, his limousine is driven into a truck elevator which raises him to a special receiving room on the ballroom floor in which he can prepare to face the throng. (Anonymous, 1963a, p. 153) The eclectic taste that affected both the old and new Waldorf-Astorias had a residual presence in the New York Hilton. The luxury suites, though not the standard guest rooms, were rendered in ‘period’ styles. ‘The Presidential Suite [is] tastefully 18th century English. [… Both] the Presidential and State suites are civilized, decently elegant’ (Anonymous, 1963b, p. 84). Exotic eclecticism was even more apparent in the new Hilton’s food court: Rue des Gourmets, where one finds masonry facades, lanterns on lamp posts, sidewalk furniture…. [Its offerings included] the gay, bistro-type Place Lautrec; the Valencia Room, open for lunch but in its glory during guitar-accompanied late suppers; the Seven Hills, serving Italian dishes; the old Bourbon House, equipped with a wall-length bar and excluding women until four; and the Kismet Lounge, à la turque. Lighthearted in mood, the Rue is loaded with frank theatricality-pierced white metal trottoir furniture, sphinxes that belonged to Marie Antoinette, fake stars in the ceiling at night.… The Place Lautrec carries on the fiction of being out of doors with a carousel canopy edged with a jewel-fantasy trim of colored glass, with lanterns, brick walls, posters and lithographs, and an open, hooded, coppery kitchen…. Turks don’t drink, so the Kismet cocktail lounge with harem-clad waitresses is just good fun. This extremely dark room is lit by blazing stained glass in brass panels that evoke Near Eastern art without imitating it. (Anonymous, 1963b, pp. 74–77) Such episodes of eclecticism were, however, isolated. The space of the New York Hilton was Modern with remarkable consistently. Deco gestured at modernity by being a style without a historical reference to the past; Modern was modern by pretending not to be a ‘style’ at all, but rather the transparent expression of function. Modern was the aesthetic of efficiency. The New York Hilton’s intentions are apparent from its exterior. The hotel consisted of a four-story high horizontal slab, virtually unpunctured except at the entry-level, which filled the entire block between 53rd and 54th Street on the west side of the Avenue of the Americas (Sixth Avenue). The slender vertical slab — nearly four acres of surface — is set perpendicular to the Sixth Avenue façade and rose some 25 stories above it. The rectangular geometry of the two parts of the structure perfectly differentiated their functions: the base held the ‘public’ activities — reception, dining, meeting rooms; the superstructure contained the ‘private’ sphere comprising the guest rooms and suites. The guest room block was meant to be monolithically blue. Blue curtains were planned to reinforce the blue-tinted plate glass, though white curtains were installed. The daunt-
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ingly broad façades of the hotel were provided a texture by angled picture windows, which opened the end wall of each of the guest rooms and projected the space of the guest room beyond the structural frame of the hotel into the city. They functioned as a cheaper and more practical surrogate for the individual balconies that characterized Hilton’s new international hotels like the Caribe Hilton (1953) and the Istanbul Hilton (1955). This fenestration gave the building the appearance of a giant accordion with its pleating stretched between the two stone-faced ends. The metaphor is appropriate: the plan of the guest room block reveals space under pressure. The sense of the room’s constriction within a grid was visible even on the exterior. The homogeneity of the rooms also fully participated in their practicality. In contrast to the Waldorf-Astoria, the New York Hilton made no attempt to mask the efficient standardization of its plan. Except for slight differences in color schemes the rooms are all the same — space is a commodity. The commoditization of the guestrooms was anticipated by the lobby, which was not unlike those of upmarket contemporary office buildings. The main entrance has a utilitarian unpretentiousness. Simple, steelframed doors, plain and revolving, open to a business lobby equally clean and unexceptional, its virtues being the meticulous travertine, marble, oiled veneer, and stainless steel components which distinguishes a wellbuilt office building…. The open floors, round wells of space, small islands of seating spotted about, and railings to lean on as one looks on lower or upper “decks” suggest an ocean liner. The different levels are joined by see-through escalators, neat and transparent. (Anonymous, 1963b, p. 73) Most of the lobby’s details were elegantly realized in white marble, black leather and stainless steel; slender pedestals precipitously supported tables, planters, lights, signs: an airline aesthetic, if not space-age one. The most cost-efficient means of marking the New York Hilton as elite was art. Rooms called for about 8500 prints. Buying in bulk — allowed by the scale of hotel — enabled the owners to acquire works by well-known artists, including Robert Rauschenberg, Larry Rivers, Lee Krasner, Robert Motherwell, Helen Frankenthaler, Jasper Johns, and Ben Shahn. ‘After considerable study and consultation, particularly with the print departments of the Whitney, Brooklyn, and Modern Museums, we determined that by commissioning relatively large runs, we could, within an acceptable budget, get outstanding work by the best artists working in such media as woodcuts, lithographs and etchings’ (Friedman, 1963, p. 8). Modern prints and, in the public spaces, original paintings and sculptures were an economically viable means of claiming the clarity of the structure as an aesthetic rather than an economic choice. Modern art, often abstract and inevitably about its own medium, established the status of a functionalist structure rather than masking it. Profit determined the aesthetic of the enterprise. The managing director of Hilton made that clear: ‘We automated everything that could be automated’. Efficiency and the elimination of human labor, indeed, were the specialization of the architect of the New York Hilton, William B. Tabler. His philosophy is revealed by his comment: ‘To be successful, [an urban hotel] should have many of the attributes of a motel’ (Anonymous, 1963a, p. 155).
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Functionality was raised to the level of style only in the post-World War II era. Buildings of the 1950s flaunted rather then veiled their efficiency. Tabler, a mid-twentieth century equivalent of Lucius Boomer, was the spokesman in the promotion of technological efficiency in the hotel business. He published in architectural journals and gave the Statler lecture series at Cornell. Tabler, who was trained as a civil engineer and as an architect at Harvard, had worked for Holabird and Root on the Washington Statler in 1939. After serving as an officer in the navy where he was involved in military construction, he was hired by the Statler Corporation. The Senior Vice President of the company, H. B. Callis, sent him on a tour of Statler hotels so that he might develop a critical list of suggestions for modernization. In 1961, Tabler was working on the design of thirty-four hotels (Tabler, 1961, 133). Tabler’s formula for hotel cost-effectiveness was published in Architectural Forum (Tabler, 1968a). It was promised that by following Tabler’s formula for hotel design the owner would break even at 65 percent occupancy. Construction costs per room should be no more than $1000 per dollar room charge. Bedroom floor space should be equal to or greater than combined service and common space. There should be less than one employee per guestroom. Land cost should be no more than 10 percent of the building cost. Room sizes are 90–110 square feet for singles, 130–150 for doubles, and 160–180 for twins. According to Tabler, 70 percent of a hotel’s profits came from room rental, 20 percent from beverages and none at all from food. Profits were to be maximized by eliminating the unnecessary and introducing ‘repetitive economies’. As the hotel’s economic well-being depended on its guestrooms, this space received Tabler’s greatest attention. His ‘repetitive economies’ were best “represented in Tabler’s then-famous bathroom. Plumbing is back-to-back and cut to a minimum. An elongated washbasin counter and angled toilet double as makeup table and chair; towel racks are next to the bathtub so that guests will dry themselves in the tub instead of using bathmats; a towel hook is placed so that they will reuse hand towels instead of reaching for a new one (which Tabler points out can save $7000 a year alone in laundering costs).” Some traditionally important parts of the hotel were minimized. “The big hotel dining room with its long menus and lavish entertainment is becoming a thing of the past.” Still others were reconceptualized. The single great ballroom, now divisible by removable walls, was shifted out from under the guest room tower, freeing it from the grid of columnar supports. The modern hotel should have a single, central kitchen, avoiding redundant appliances and more particularly redundant labor. Construction should be as simple as possible, preferably cantilevered flat-plate slab construction with thin porcelain enamel sandwich curtain walls. Tabler’s innovations presented hotel owners and their architects with a single, consistent message: the rising cost of labor requires the deployment of new technologies; a hotel’s profitability depends on eliminating workers. During the 1950s, air conditioning, television, and self-service elevators became necessary features of the modern hotel. Other labor-saving mechanisms that have since become commonplace were just being introduced. Hilton and Sheraton had installed central reservation boards. Several chains had central accounting computers. In an effort to eliminate large numbers of operators, Hilton first experimented with direct dial telephones in guestrooms in the Waldorf-Astoria (which Hilton had acquired in 1949) and the Pittsburgh Hilton. Tabler’s appeal to relieve labor pressure (for example, through kitchen
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conveyor belts carrying complete pre-frozen dishes under special quick-heating warmers out to waiters, and disposable items — towels, sheets, pillowcases, dishes and glasses) was not entirely successful (Tabler, 1968b). His call for other labor-saving technologies proved prophetic: message lights on guestroom telephones, taped calls-waiting, information lists on the guest’s television, and visual surveillance devices for the corridors and entrances are now commonplace. Tabler’s articles represent an essentially modernist view of building. Tabler’s careful ordering of space and technology not only eliminates human labor, but also displaces architecture. ‘Some day the weary traveler may be able to drive directly to his tower-floor bedroom, take his own ice cubes out of a refrigerator without waiting half an hour for room service, recline on a mattress adjustable to hard, medium or soft, in front of a radio-television screen that can also be turned on by the front desk to warn him of anything from an air raid to a noisy party.... Lounges in new hotels are being tucked off to the side out of the way of elevators and front desk, and reduced in size to discourage free-loaders from the street. Soon there may be no free seats at all’ (Anonymous, 1957, p. 120). Efficiency that excluded the public also precluded the presence of the worker. In 1954, Statler was absorbed by Hilton. Hilton became the largest hotel chain in the world, controlling some 37,000 rooms. Tabler, who had worked for the Statler Corporation, remained a significant figure in the Hilton Corporation. His New York Hilton is perhaps the purest example of the great Corporate-Modern hotel. The philosophy and economy of functionalism determined the structure of the building and, in contrast to the Waldorf-Astoria, also its form and much of its decoration. The space of hospitality was mass-produced at the Hilton. Mass produced space — commoditized space — eliminates all evidence of the human touch. Such a space may be comfortable and efficient, but it holds no history. Hotels built by Hilton in devastated post-World War II Europe or in the Middle East in the 1950s dazzled by the novelty of their unalloyed modernity. But in the United States a decade later, with the proliferation of copies of Lever House and the Seagram Building as well as with the familiarity of the motel, modernity became banal. The New York Hilton, like a Kitchenaide dishwasher, recorded labor only in its absence. Dreams as well as history slipped off its metal and glass surfaces. A grand hotel depends on its potential to record history and produce dreams. The new Waldorf-Astoria, like the old one, qualifies as a grand hotel; the New York Hilton does not. It sold space as a commodity. The guest knew exactly what she was getting when she entered the New York Hilton; it held no mystery. Bryant Park Hotel: Globalization In the era of globalization, the corporation has displaced the nation as the locus of power; capital replaces patriotism as grease for its wheels. The discrepancy between what is promised and what is produced is recorded in the difference between the golden retirement of Enron’s CEO and its workers’ and investors’ lost life’s savings. The gap between reality and dreams is profitably disguised in our culture by entertainment. Hotels are part of the performance. Hotels are titillating even in their variety. ‘Today’s hotel scene is like a box of chocolates — full of delightful confections, which present business travelers and holiday makers alike with deliciously agonizing choices’ (Riewolt, 2002, p. 6).
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The New York Hilton’s frank embodiment of its economic intentions is passé. In the arbitrariness of its forms, the contemporary hotel reveals its complicity with contemporary society’s ethical opacity. The New York Hilton itself provides a provocative example. In 2001–2002, the hotel’s main public spaces were transformed from Corporate-Modern to Postmodern-Deco. From an utterly legible, rational space that completely corresponded to the expectations established by the building’s exterior, the observer entering the lobby is confounded by a space that frustrates understanding. The broad, low lobby resolves around a shallow dome ‘supported’ by structurally unnecessary columnar piers. How to get from A to B is unclear. And that’s the point. The Bryant Park Hotel, opened in Midtown Manhattan in 2001, provides a subtler example of the new theatricality of space. Instead of a Neo-Deco filling for a modern structure, the Bryant Park packs a Deco building with the Neo-Modern. The exterior of the exuberant American Radiator Building, built by Raymond Hood in 1924, is best evoked by Georgia O’Keefe’s painting, Radiator Building at Night — a slender, black column with brilliantly ornamented finials that complement the industrial lights and vapors of a city that never sleeps. The fabric is black brick and the pinnacles are cast stone with “gold” paint. The building’s striking use of color stimulated the metaphoric imagination: it was likened to a great coal pile topped by an unbanked fire, as appropriate for a radiator company (Corbett, 1924). Its threat was perhaps most explicitly indicated in the New York Times: ‘Raymond M. Hood of Howells and Hood, architects of the American Radiator building on Fortieth Street, has broken through the color line. His black and gold peak has no dainty flapper insouciance, however. Here is a barbaric note. You think of tom-toms and gleaming spear-points (Johns, 1925, p. 11). The black and gold cladding of the American Radiator Building provoked attention when it was constructed. The developers of the Bryant Park Hotel, Philip Pilevsky and Brian McNally, no doubt hoped to put that notoriety back to work. Deco is, after all, now the neostyle of choice. The Bryant Park is not, however, marketing itself as a deluxe historical hotel. Its target audience is the up-market fashion and entertainment traveler, rather than the wealthy tourist or the conservative CEO. In consequence, the hotel’s interior was not produced to complement its exterior. Indeed, the building was gutted for new construction. Even the two-story penthouse built for May West, reportedly the mistress both of the architect and the president of the American Radiator Company, fell victim to an additional elevator shaft. Only underground bits of the original structure were salvaged. The building had two basement levels, the lower of which housed its boilers. Because the American Radiator Company manufactured boilers, the building’s heating systems also functioned as display models. The basements were, consequently, remarkably finished with handsome, tile-covered vaults. The Bryant Park Hotel’s bar recycles one of those spaces (Tabler, 2004). The owners’ selection of architects as well as their choice of buildings suggests their strategy. Two architects worked on the reconstruction. David Chipperfield is a trendy architect with offices in London and Berlin. Known for his lyrically neo-modern minimalist design, Chipperfield gained critical attention first through the stark abstraction of his interiors of highend retail stores, galleries, and offices. The Bryant Park was his first hotel project. The second architect was William B. Tabler, Jr. of New York, who inherited his father’s knowledge of hotel construction and his interest in practicality. At the Bryant Park Hotel, Tabler took care of backof-the-house functionality. Chipperfield established the style of the interior. The lobby is
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Euro-Oriental-Modern with a red-lacquer reception desk, backed by a wall padded by redleather squares, dark brown vertical and horizontal structural accents, and rich carpets in mauves and oranges emphasizing the planarity of the oak floor. Steps lead from the lobby to the bar. Guestrooms maintain the Zen theme with Tibetan rugs and beds with leather headboards, oak floors, and natural wood furniture displayed against white walls. The bathrooms, which include both a tub and a walk-in shower, are finished in travertine and stainless steel. Though Tabler was the architect of record, only Chipperfield is remembered in the hotel’s advertising or by the hotel’s management. Appearance is everything. The Bryant Park’s design, like the interiors of the trendiest high-end hotels, might be labeled ‘Tech-Chic’. The furnishings promote a high-tech posture that appeals to the sophisticated traveler. Technology still makes a highly visible contribution to both the aesthetics and the profit margin of hotels, but its forms are different from those of midcentury. Society no longer expects technology to offer a universal social or economic panacea. The end of the old optimism is demonstrated perfectly in the contemporary hotel. Hotels still display new technology, not to reveal efficiency but to offer pleasure. Technology now participates in the new hedonisms of immediate personal and corporate gratification. At the Bryant Park each guestroom is equipped with an Intrigue multimedia system, a vehicle for guest access to the internet as well as to video games, wireless internet, instant messaging, movies, and shopping. Rooms have a direct-dial fax machine, a dual-line telephone system with a speaker phone and computer data port as well as Bose Wave CD player. In addition to the familiar ‘state-of-the art fitness center with an on-site personal trainer’, it furnishes a specially designed 70-seat private miniauditorium for private film screenings. More complex is the desire for the magic of technological novelty — toilets with transparent glass doors that are made private by colored vapors, color-modifying bedroom lighting systems, erotic film clips continuously projected on guestroom ceilings, waterproof televisions in the bathroom. Hotels present ultra-contemporary style not as the apogee of efficiency, but as the material expression of the new, often ludicrous technologies that the guest room offers. Some hotels push the bounds of Pleasure-Modern further than the Byrant Park. In the Standard Downtown in Los Angeles, for example, bathrooms are transparent, partitioned from bedrooms only by plate glass. Its roof-top bar/swimming pool offers vibrating, two-person lounge chairs. Technology performs differently not only for the guest, but also for the management. Certainly, new technology continues to offer cool air and hot water more efficiently. More importantly, technology offers an increasingly effective means of controlling information and, ultimately, people. Check-out is handled through a plasma-screen television rather than at the front desk. Websites replace travel agents. More diabolically, wireless local area networks allow employers to track their workers. In contrast to the frank display of function in hotels like the Hilton at mid-century, now only play is fore-grounded in upscale hotels. At the Bryant Park Hotel, complex, interesting spaces — guest rooms are distinguished by their shapes as well as by their color schemes and decorating details — were imposed by the old structure into which they were fitted. In hotels where complex, interesting spaces are not provided by history, they are fabricated in fauxGothic or Neo-Palladian with Dryvit. The postmodern building material of choice, Dryvit (and similar products) is basically stucco blown over Styrofoam. Any shape is possible. Form is fully divorced from function: it pretends to require highly skilled craftsmen when it does
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not. Hotels only simulate impracticality and extravagance. And they generally get away with it. Surprisingly, those who care about the difference between silk and polyester do not seem to distinguish between history and fiction. Despite the real Deco of its architecture and contemporaneity of its interior, the Bryant Park Hotel’s effort at authenticity is frustrated by the historical depthlessness of globalization. Even the management is blind — the sales manager informed me that reuse of an old structure had nothing to do with the hotel’s appeal. The space of the Bryant Park Hotel is no less of a commodity than that of the New York Hilton. But now it lies: the commodity pretends to compensate for the loss of history.
Conclusion This paper defines commoditization and maps its progression in hospitality space from the late nineteenth century to the present through an investigation of four hotels in New York City. In the heyday of monopoly capitalists, the old Waldorf-Astoria (1890s) was broadly acknowledged as the greatest hotel in the world. The luxury of both its setting and service was expensively labor-intensive. The new Waldorf-Astoria (1932) sought to maintain the privileged position of its predecessor through the implementation of Fordist principles of standardization, simplification, and control of the source of supply. The new technologies and organizational strategies of corporate America, deployed in the building as well as in its guest services, were covertly used to mask the diminution of the costly expenditure of labor. American pride in its technological superiority after World War II was expressed in the New York Hilton’s (1963) modernity: geometric volumes and uncluttered, transparent, minimally adorned public spaces and guest rooms embodied a new aesthetic of profitability. Finally, the Bryant Park Hotel (2003) represents the hospitality industry in the age of globalization. The Bryant Park occupies the American Radiator Building, one of the great Art Deco buildings of the city, built by Raymond Hood in 1924. In this hotel, as in the Hilton, technology performs as the means by which guests’ desires are gratified. In contrast to the Hilton, however, here “history” is also presented as profitable spectacle; not only is space made into a commodity, but so is the past. The essay begins as a survey of the evolving technology of efficiency; it concludes with a critique of the current use of history to compensate for the uniformity of commoditization. In the course of its argument, it means to persuade hospitality professionals of the contribution made by architecture to the success of their hotels.
Acknowledgements Much of the material for this article comes from two of my earlier works: Building the Cold War: Hilton International Hotels and Modern Architecture (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 2001) and “Two Waldorf-Astorias: Spatial Economies as Totem and Fetish,” Art Bulletin, 84 (2003), 523–543. I want to express my particular gratitude to William B. Tabler, Jr., who spent several hours with me relating insights about his father, the New York Hilton, and hotels in general. I am also indebted to Jeff Fahie, Assistant Director of Meetings and Conventions at the Hilton, Eric Long, General Manager of the Waldorf-Astoria, James Blauvelt, the hotel’s Director of Catering, and Bryan Manning, the concierge. Their enthusiasm for their respective institutions was catching.
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References Anonymous. (1854). Things as they are in America. Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, June 3, p. 339. Anonymous. (1860). Palace homes for the traveller. Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine, May, pp. 465–466. Anonymous. (1898). The new Astoria hotel. Architecture and Building, 28, 51–56. Anonymous. (1929a). Waldorf-Astoria hotel. New York Times, March 31. Anonymous. (1929b). Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. New York Times, October 3. Anonymous. (1930a). Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. New York Times, Sept. 14. Anonymous. (1930b). Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. New York Times, July 20. Anonymous. (1931a). Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. New York Times, Sept. 27. Anonymous. (1931b). Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. New York Times, October 1. Anonymous. (1931c). World’s tallest hotel on stilts. Popular Mechanics, December, pp. 979–980. Anonymous. (1943). Facts about the Waldorf-Astoria. New York: Waldorf-Astoria. Anonymous. (1957). Bill Tabler’s hotel boom. Architectural Forum, 107(1), 115–121. Anonymous. (1963a). Grand Hotel, new version: New York Hilton. Architectural Record, 134, November, pp. 153–160. Anonymous. (1963b). After two years and 75 millions, the Collossus opens: The New York Hilton at Rockefeller Center. Interiors, 123, 68–86. Baudrillard, J. (1981). For a critique of the political economy of the sign (Trans. Charles Levin). New York: Telos Press. Black, J. (1997). Oxford dictionary of economics. Oxford Paperback Reference. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Boldt, G. C. (1903). Waldorf-Astoria, New York. New York: Waldorf-Astoria. Boomer, L. M. (1923). How we fitted Ford’s principles to our business. System, 44(4), 421–424, 91. Brucken, C. E. (1997). Consuming luxury: Hotels and the rise of middle-class public space, 1825–1860. George Washington University. Corbett, H. W. (1924). The American radiator building, New York City. Architectural Record, 55, 473–477. Friedman, B. H. (1963). Art for the New York Hilton. Craft Horizons, 23, 8–15. Hungerford, E. (1925). Story of the Waldorf. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. James, H. (1994). The American scene. New York: Penguin [1907]. Johns, O. (1925). What the Modish Building will wear. New York Times, October 4, sec. SM: 11. McCarthy, J. R. (1931). Peacock alley: The romance of the Waldorf-Astoria. New York: Harper Brothers. Murchison, K. M. (1931). The drawings for the New Waldorf-Astoria. American Architect, 139(2591), 28–35. Riewolt, O. (2002). New hotel design. London: Watson-Guptill. Roberts, M. F. (1931). A new ideal in city living. Arts and Decoration, 35, 50–51. Robins, A. W. (1993). Landmarks preservation commission, designation list 248, Lp-1812: WaldorfAstoria Hotel. New York: Landmarks Preservation Commission. Tabler, W. B. (1961). Planned for hidden economy: Five hotels–motels. Architectural Record, 130, 131–150. Tabler, W. B. (1968a). Bill Tabler’s hotel boom. Architectural Forum, 107, 115–121. Tabler, W. B. (1968b). New forces at work on the in-city hotel. Architectural Record, 144, 134–137. Tabler, W. B., Jr. (2004). Interview with author. New York: Tabler’s architectural office. Tessendorf, K. C. (1997). Meet me at the ‘Hyphen’. American History, 32.5, 16–20, 56. Williamson, J. (1930). The American hotel: An anecdotal history. New York: A. A. Knopf.
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Chapter 9
Commercial Home Enterprises: Identity, Space and Setting MariaLaura Di Domenico and Paul Lynch
Introduction This chapter explores the duality of meanings and values of the domestic space within the commercial home setting as a particular site of hospitality provision and consumption. The discussion centres on modes of representation and iconography within home-based hospitality businesses such as lodging houses, guesthouses and bed and breakfasts, and an examination is made of conceptual relationships between identity, space and setting. The authors draw upon research experiences in Scotland, investigating both guest house owner perceptions (Di Domenico, 2003) and guest-researcher impressions (Lynch, 2003), in terms of how the home is used as a mechanism within which to present symbols and artifacts reflecting internal and external Scottish identities of individual, place and setting. The context of the small or micro-hospitality business that also functions as a private residence for its permanent occupants is used as a focus. This hybrid domestic and commercial space is evidently complex in terms of its uses, users and manifest functions. Specific consideration is given to how the host presents and adorns this space with symbols of different types and to the extent that this ‘stage’, where icons and artifacts are present, reinforces or deviates from guests’ expectations and associations of hospitality provision and the broader setting of place. The remainder of the chapter is in four parts. The next explores theoretical constructs of the commercial home enterprise by critiquing work that has been significant in the development of thinking about the performative nature of setting and the importance of artifacts in the projection and interpretation of spaces. The second examines the use of everyday signs and symbols in the particular realm of the commercial home enterprise. The third part analyses the way in which identities of external place, namely the Scottish setting, are reflected in the interior dwelling space of the commercial home. The final part of the chapter concludes by highlighting the significance to broader research in the hospitality field of the domestic symbolism inherent in commercial home hospitality. Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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Conceptions of the Home as a Site of Commercial Hospitality Provision and Consumption Small hospitality businesses have received increasing attention in the literature in recent times (see for example, Clegg & Essex, 2000; Di Domenico & Morrison, 2003; Getz & Carlsen, 2000; Getz, Carlsen, Morrison, 2004; Lynch & MacWhannell, 2000; Morrison et al., 1999). However, there is a need for increased focus exclusively on the private home as a site of commercial hospitality provision, particularly in terms of the complexities inherent in the overlap between domestic and commercial spheres. Both the larger commercial hospitality venture of the hotel and the private home share common characteristics in terms of the desire for, and provision of, hospitality, comfort and other services. Similarly, both share an explicit use of boundaries and compartmentalization of spaces. Consequently, particular reference can be made to Goffman’s (1959) well-known theatre metaphor in terms of the ‘front’ and ‘back’ stage regions in attempting to understand host–guest interactions at play within the hybrid of the ‘hotel–home’, namely the commercial home enterprise. Goffman was concerned with exploring the presentation of the ‘self’ within the constraints of occupational roles within organizations in the service sector, such as, the small hotel or the gambling casino. For example, his classic work The presentation of self in everyday life (1959) analyses the backstage/front stage behaviour patterns of waiters in a small hotel in Shetland. Goffman adopts a dramaturgical perspective viewing ‘actors’ as constantly engaged in a series of performances on front or back stage, introducing the concepts of socially constructed performances and the staging arrangements involved in impression management. Goffman’s framework has been hugely influential in structuring analyses of interactions, particularly in hospitality and tourism settings. Its significance is reflected in its impact upon authors such as MacCannell (1973), Hochschild (1983), Crang (1997) and Darke and Gurney (2000) who have sought to develop or incorporate elements of his thesis. Nevertheless, the authors wish to highlight challenges to this conceptualization before pursuing Goffman’s theatrical metaphor as a loose reference point in the remainder of the chapter. In doing so, and in line with the title and aims of the text as a whole, we encourage the reader to adopt a critical standpoint in their reflections and exploration into theories of hospitality. Goffman’s dramaturgical metaphor is very strong. However, this strength is also its weakness in as much as the uncritical reader may be overly seduced by its rhetoric. The power of imagery evoked by the dramaturgical narrative may be regarded as a descriptive tool rather than an explanation. Moreover, Goffman employs a view of the world that hints at a later postmodernism, which may or may not coexist neatly with varying philosophical research traditions. There are multiple scripts being enacted simultaneously in the example of the commercial home enterprise making it arguably a far more complex site of social analysis than the larger mono-functional hotel. One should question how readily Goffman’s framework lends itself to understanding such complexity of scripts. It is interesting to note that Goffman was in fact both hotel guest and employee at different times during his Shetland study. However, he spent much of his time in the ‘back’ regions of the hotel and also socializing and living with some of the hotel staff. He may be perceived to have deliberately chosen to ignore the guest perspective, perhaps for reasons of simplicity. Moreover, Goffman’s focus is on the meaning inferred through the non-verbal signals given off and manipulated by participants rather than the more easily manipulated verbal
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expressions. Thus, the dramaturgical model refers to non-verbal behaviour and therefore is useful for analysing the symbolic meanings of setting in which performances take place as props for actors and as conveying information about oneself and external setting. However, inherent limitations of the approach are that it does not claim to explain comprehensively all aspects of social interactions between and among individuals. Other analyses of spatial interactions have suggested the performative nature of setting irrespective of the presence of the individuals for whom the artifacts present have been proposed by Goffman as props. Georg Simmel (Frisby, 1992, p. 178) drew attention to artifacts eliciting aesthetic responses that may lead to ‘an idealization and sublimination of the phenomenal world’. Porteous (1996) describes three types of environmental aesthetics: sensory, symbolic and formal that might serve for further analysis of hospitality settings. Also, Wearing and Wearing (1996) consider Plato’s term ‘chora’ to describe a view of spaces that are identified and characterized by the people who occupy them. Thus, both the tourist and the host interactively engage with, create and instill meaning from the space of the commercial home. Simmel (Frisby, 1992) explained the concept of perspectivism in terms of proximity to the object of gaze and how conceptualizations vary in relation to different proximities. The commercial home merits analysis on at least two levels which for the sake of simplicity can be captured as the host and guest ‘egg-timer’ perspective. The host perspective leads to the concepts of stage, performance, socio-cultural analysis, hospitality service and customer satisfaction, the guest perspective that of interactive setting, authenticity, analysis at the level of the individual, hospitableness and lifestyle matching. The guest perspective introduces the idea of the ‘hospitality transaction’, whereby the visitor transacts with the host, the hospitality space and the artifacts present (Lynch, 2003). Goffman (1959) may be criticized for failing to consider fully the nature of the guest engagement with the host, the hospitality space and artifacts.
Everyday Signs and Symbols in the Commercial Home According to Barthes (1982), signs and symbols pervade society as a whole and the everyday encounters within which we engage. Hospitality as a mode of production, consumption and communication is imbued with symbolic value. The home setting is thus a prime site for representing and defining identity. The way in which the home reflects external societal norms is inescapable, as socially embedded constructions of national identity prevail, for example, in terms of fashion, furnishings and interior décor. The regularity and importance attached to the home dwelling itself ensures that cultural norms internalized by the individual, but reflecting broader societal constructs, are projected into the everyday spaces of the home. Even what may be regarded as relatively simple acts of preparing and consuming food are, of course, laden with symbolic rituals relating to religious beliefs, tradition, health, community and adherence to particular pre-determined rules (Selwyn, 2000). Replication of action and conformity in this case directly affects the level of acceptance of performance and behaviour, whether within the confines of the home or during the experience of ‘dining out’ (Finkelstein, 1989; Ward & Martens, 2000). The guest may perceive a commercial home enterprise such as a guesthouse as denoting a quaint yet honest representation of both its location and its occupants. It should be acknowledged that some hosts seek to emulate larger operations by using
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artifacts and symbols to project a sense of standardization or institutionalism in order to communicate themes of familiarity, quality and consistency in the hope of increasing custom. Others retain a need to be characterized as unique, a tactic that provides a product distinct from that of mid-range chain hotel companies. Such multi-site corporations hold distinctive brands and are increasingly competing in terms of price and, as a result, encroaching into the traditional domain of small independently run hospitality firms. Attempts at differentiation by the small hospitality firm are reflected in the recent emergence of so-called ‘luxury boutique’ bed and breakfasts and hotels in the sector selling distinctive lifestyle products (McIntosh & Siggs, 2004). These properties are marketed as distinctive and aim to position themselves differently from both the larger impersonal chain hotels and the low-quality ‘cheap and cheerful’ image of many bed and breakfast establishments. The host may use symbols as a form of natural and unconscious self-expression. They may also, however, adopt a more calculating attempt to manipulate perceptions in order to win favour with the guest. It may be argued, that implicit in this ‘host’ perspective of symbolic representations, guests are unknowing or uncritical passive recipients of the visual messages they find when partaking in the hospitality experience within the commercial home enterprise. This assumption may be overly simplistic, as the guest may indeed acknowledge elements of artificiality in the stage and accept or reject the visual as a constructed form devised in part to meet their expectations (Edensor, 2001). Furthermore, influences external to the commercial home such as grading schemes should be acknowledged and may encourage artifacts of which the symbolic interpretations may be antithetical to the host’s conscious or unconscious self-expression (Tucker & Lynch, 2004). Nevertheless, such ‘staging’ may be seen as authentic, especially to the overseas guest, in as much as it presents the host as being a part of a broader romanticized Scottish identity of place, space and setting. The guests bring with them their own notions of home and expectations of hospitality, which are compared to what they eventually encounter. It must be remembered that while the guest is a stranger to the host, the latter along with the new home setting are strange to the guest. Just as there are contradictions inherent in the public access to the apparently private space of an individual’s home, the strange familiarity of such a commercial home space is also evident. The mundane and everyday possessions of the host are transformed into the picturesque and quaint, thus creating an allure of authenticity. Symbols in the home act as visual illustrations of the identity, values and personality of the host and the hosting family (Csikszentmihalyi & Rochberg-Halton, 1981; Marcus, 1995; Martin & Healy, 2003). For the guest, they engender curiosity or reaffirm preconceptions. These everyday practices of space customization are unique to the specific home and individual; yet on a general level, such practices are carried out by all social actors and endure as a defining feature of all forms of domestic spaces, not solely those of commercial homes. Therefore, the home space is very emotive and thickly laden with meaning and expression. There is a constant interplay between symbols regarded by the guest as both strange in terms of the newness of the encounter, and familiar in terms of the form and function of recognizable everyday objects. Novelty can be sought but familiar reference points will still be found. The guest is therefore able to enjoy the new while remaining true to a sense of self. This may lie at the heart of the enduring appeal and also the inherent tensions of staying in such establishments.
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Geographical Setting as Stage Set: Reflections of External Place in Itself and within Internal Domestic Spaces The External Place Just as interior symbols or artifacts represent props for human actors (Goffman, 1959), the external environment and geographical location within which commercial home businesses are embedded act as the extension or backdrop to the immediate stage platform upon which the tourist ‘gaze’ falls (Urry, 2002). Thereby, the external setting as a broader stage-set frames everyday life. The internal dwelling spaces and material contents of the home may reflect and embody the external realities or interpretations and ties of individuals to places. Thus, in many ways signs and symbols within the home are dependent upon setting for their existence, and reliant upon ascribed cultural associations of the locale for interpretations of their role and aesthetic value to be made. Visitors to places outside their home location may be making the journey in a desire to experience the novel or different. They arm themselves with particular images of the place to which they venture and expect these to be manifest during their personal pilgrimages to a destination. In the same way, those travelling to Scotland who choose to stay in family-run hotels, guesthouses or bed and breakfasts, may buy into an image of a branded, tourism-manufactured ‘Scottishness’. In turn, the host may seek to provide an apparent authenticity to the guest that, from a postmodern perspective, involves a nostalgic and romanticized presentation of symbols, such as those associated with the rural Scottish Highlands, within the internal space of the commercial home. This may be seen as reflecting a sense of paradise lost, linking external setting to elements of interior dwelling. Scotland, since the Victorian era, can be described in terms of its population location as predominantly urban rather than the rural. The comparatively wealthy Scottish cities of that era attracted tourists and were admired by visitors both for their impressive buildings and their ‘economic dynamism’ (Devine, 1999, p. 333). Nevertheless, despite its wellestablished urban, and increasingly industrial, character, Scotland’s national image from the Victorian era until the present, has been very much a rural one (Devine, 1999; Hills, 1994; Lynch, 1992; McCrone, Morris, & Kiely, 1995). In pre-war railway posters, the image of industrialization presented by the steam engine is usually placed in juxtaposition to the rural imagery of the background scenery. This dominant rural imagery is still reflected in the tourist posters of today, which display images of mountains, rivers and lochs that are notably lacking in people. This is ‘undeniably a rather curious and ironic development in national cultural identity and awareness in light of the dominance of the nation’s urban centres’ (Devine, 1999, p. 231). Thus, it appears that ‘an urban society had adopted a rural face’ (ibid.). Where people are portrayed, it is also noteworthy that, despite the fact that most of Scotland’s population live in the Lowland Central Belt Area, Scotland’s image in advertisements is by and large a Highland one. They tend to display symbols of Scottish identity such as the bagpipes, the kilt and tartan, which are of distinctive Highland origin. These have now become familiarly identified with the concept of ‘Scottishness’ or Scottish identity, although there is still a particular rather than a general association of the Scottish Highlands through these symbols as their ‘spiritual home’.
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Scottish identity has become part of a complex of self-identity for those who both live in Scotland and those who dwell outside the country’s borders but identify with the nation. Research on Scottish identity tends broadly to confirm that this concept relates to an ease of social interaction among those who define themselves as Scottish (McCrone, 2001). This interaction is helped by certain social cues such as accent, symbols, and artifacts that embody generally accepted signifiers of ‘Scottishness’. Although there is no homogeneous culture in Scotland, there is a sense of ‘Scottishness’ and continuity with the past dating back to the Victorian era and Scott’s Waverley novels (Storrar, 1990). There is a shared value system that can be defined as ‘Scottish culture’. This includes Scottish history, heritage and tourism, which are interwoven with other aspects of ‘Scottishness’ that are part of the descriptions of Scotland. These include elements that also denote other identities and differences, such as social class, gender, religion and local identities. Scottish cultural tradition covers a range of subjects, including a variety of ‘material’ and ‘symbolic’ inheritances, and acts as ‘a vital source of legitimatory iconography’ (McCrone et al., 1995, p. 5). The term refers to visible symbols that have meaning and purpose. For example, ‘tartan’, ‘the kilt’ and the Scottish national flag still represent ‘totems’ for many Scots. Similarly, historical figures such as Rob Roy, William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, Bonnie Prince Charlie or Flora MacDonald act as powerful icons, representing an ancient, unified Scottish cultural tradition (Edensor, 2001). The battles of Bannockburn or Culloden are also symbolic of Scottish culture and history with the battle sites with visitor centres important to Scots as well as to tourists (Rosie, 1992). All of these reinforce a sense of group belonging and national cultural identity. Thus, symbols associated with ‘tradition’ are in reality a complex reconstruction of fact and fiction, helping to give Scots a sense of shared identity during periods of social, economic and political change (Devine, 1999; Paterson, 1998). This has led critics to cite a process of increasing commodification and consumerization of place and cultural heritage through the mechanism of the pre-packaged and marketed tourism product (Hewison, 1987; Walsh, 1992). It can be argued that the Scottish tourism industry has to a large extent relied on nostalgia through the portrayal of selective and romanticized images and brands in order to satisfy the manufactured demands of the tourist as consumer. This commodification process through strategies, such as, place branding presents the consumer with typical themes of a place, as reflections of broader notions of Scottish culture and identity. The end result of ‘imagining Scotland’ is far removed from actual events or the complexities inherent in a place and its people. However, as McCrone et al. (1995) argue, it is this imagining through processes of ‘infotainment’ which provides critical appeal to the visitor, and indeed to the Scot, who may be in search of certain notions of cultural identity. Indeed, this may be a reflection of an increasing awareness of Scotland’s complex cultural heritage and the need to designate the existence of places and artifacts once ignored, as well as the increasing awareness of the power of Scottish imagery to promote tourism (Edensor, 2001). It is noteworthy that recent VisitScotland marketing campaigns to ‘live it’, to ‘see it’, and to ‘touch it’, seek to escape this simplistic tartan theme with more contemporary societal leisure perspectives. In the current era of postdevolutionary Scotland, methods of cultural, political and symbolic differentiation continue to be enacted on multiple-staged sets from those of the new futuristically designed Scottish parliament to those presented by commercial hospitality. Although there have been slightly jaded reactions which have accompanied recent
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developments, such as public annoyance at the cost of the new Scottish parliament building, there continues to be a need to present and express identities of place and nationhood, something repeated in all cultures and nations. Individuals who come into contact with visitors especially in the home setting may communicate a general portrayal of ‘Scottishness’, which they act out in diverse ways that take on new meanings as exhibitions of pride in nationhood. External Place within Internal Domestic Spaces Darke and Gurney (2000) suggest commercial home enterprises are owned and managed by ‘extrinsic owners’. These individuals ‘use the home as a means of expression on which they have lavished considerable labour … their homes are seen as evidence of their owners’ creativity and thus positively require an audience’ (ibid., 90). This is one way of exploring the relationship between the host and their commercial home. Certain commercial home enterprises were found by the authors to reflect their geographical and cultural context through the display of recognizable symbols, as if on display to be recognized and applauded by the guest as audience and observer. This type of host is often very much aware of the power of the totality of the image. This is reflected by the views of a male host in Inverness who was recently interviewed by one of the authors. You could stay in a guesthouse in Scotland like this one with a good atmosphere, a friendly family home. If you want friendliness and good hospitality, you go to a guest house … The stained glass windows with the Scottish themes, the tartan wallpaper, pictures and paintings with highland scenes. The silverware, the whisky miniature collection and various other things in the room ... a book on Rabbie Burns lying on the table, a Scottish Dictionary, a set of bagpipes. It’s these little nick-knacks that people want to see. This is what they come to Scotland for … they don’t come to Scotland for the weather! These comments serve to illustrate that while the host should consider the desires and expectations of the guest, the host is in control in terms of the aesthetic production of the space. The host’s personal tastes determine the nature of the space, which in turn impacts upon the degree of its ‘authenticity’ as perceived from the standpoint of the guest. The nature of that consumption is therefore largely on the host’s terms, whereby the domestic space is a reflection of individual identities and tastes, often modified by the contributions of the accommodation grading ‘inspector’ and the process of spatial commodification that may curtail the presence of those artifacts that in the eyes of the hosts have any affective value. From the perspective of this host type, the guests fulfill the role of necessary audience (ironically paying for the experience) to gaze upon the host’s performances and projections of self and home. Consequently, the visual then becomes an objectifying gaze. Nevertheless, this type of host may be focusing on a certain non-Scottish market niche for whom such artifacts may have appeal, whereas another market niche might hold strongly opposing views as to the aesthetic appeal of the product construction. This is exemplified in the distinctive accommodation offered in private homes whose owners can even have
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particular appeal to the overseas visitor. For example, these observations were made while staying in a Victorian shooting lodge on a working 22,000 acre highland estate: No sooner had we arrived than a lady came out of the house through something like a 12 foot high wooden door and introduced herself: C., a lady in her late fifties … and sort of Scottish [landed?] middle class, tartan trousers, black shoes, blue sweater, almost a uniform for that sort of class… Observations were also made of interactions with the male host and other members of the family over breakfast: We found that H.’s (the male host) high chair, from when he was a child some six years old was out and that caused some comments because of his personal associations … and he brought it over from Canada, it transpired and so you have a sense of place, a sense of history surrounding this particular device and similarly M. (child ) was engaged with H., just as he was dressing [in] his tweed suit, about to go to the Kirk to read the Gospel as he announced to us … C. earlier was referring to Country Life (magazine), and again Country Life was a reference point, a lifestyle indicator … it did say something about the people living there… R. (hosts’ daughter) was about to go off horse-riding, dressed in her riding breeches, who comes to say goodbye to us. In the foregoing example, product consistency and coherency is present between the host and family identity, artifacts and setting achieving ‘authenticity’. By contrast, one of the author’s observations of a hotel with a resonant Scottish name reflect a perceived dissonance between name and the lack of Scottish themes in the hotel: I should have mentioned the name of the hotel — the Robert the Bruce hotel, redolent of the Scottish theme. I can’t find that theme picked up anywhere within the actual property. Similarly, views expressed by another host located in Inverness are more critical of commodified cultural icons. She questions their authenticity and reflectively searches for places that reaffirm her own perceptions of ‘Scottishness’. However, she is left dissatisfied in her attempts to do so. It’s all very well putting some tartan things all over the place, but that’s not Scottishness. We’re relying that people will come and love it. It’s a beautiful town; lovely surrounding area, and if the sun is shining it’s gorgeous … But if they come here looking for something Scottish, then Inverness is not the place. I don’t know where is to be quite honest. It can be seen by these examples that there is contention over the value of visual representations of ‘Scottishness’ that may form part of the commercial hospitality experience. Some regard their prevalence as denoting an outdated and arguably undesirable ‘Granny’s
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Highland Home’ image, and choose to dismiss symbols such as tartan as being false and by implication negative. Others strategically embrace these symbols in an explicit attempt to represent pride in personal associations and to pander to the perceived expectations of the guest. Artificially creating ‘themed’ product coherency is difficult if not impossible, and invariably leads to a hollow product pastiche. The shooting lodge, where the private home function prevails, may be considered an exception where coherency is present between the politics of identity, national discourses, artifacts and setting. In the more commercially oriented home enterprise, it is normally possible to distinguish spatial regions according to the extent to which they reflect the politics of identity of the host. Thus, guest areas tend to be depersonalized, while neutral public areas, for example a hallway, may contain the more personal artifacts of the host. The host’s identity is increasingly reflected in spaces that are more dedicated to use by the host and their family. Thus, the living-room tends to contain more items of personal significance than elsewhere in the commercial home other than the host’s private spaces that are inaccessible to guests. Guests are also consciously aware of the resonance of place and setting in their consumption of hospitality. This is reflected in the observations made by one of the authors during his stay in a commercial home, commenting on the external landscape and its impact upon internal space and personal mood: Looking out from the bedroom one sees low hills, greenery, as one looks out beyond the main road the actual setting in the Highlands is very pleasant if not dramatic, but it’s quite pleasant. There is a certain calm by virtue of its location if one could ignore the traffic in the background. The guest gazes upon internal objects and the external setting while engaging in a process of meaning construction so as to form judgements and perceptions. Thinking about symbols and artifacts in terms of their aesthetic qualities, or in terms of being a reflection of the host, introduces an interesting dimension to the understanding of the hospitality product. Artifacts encourage the guest to engage in a process of exploration as they engender curiosity about the hosting family and their links to setting and broader cultural attributes. These codified objects may enable the guest to answer questions about their owners, or merely add to existing ambiguities and uncertainties through a subjectively defined lens. A key issue identified is that of product coherency. Thus, for example, a tartan theme may have relevance in the context of the 19th century Victorian Shooting Lodge located in the Highlands, but may appear totally incongruous in a modern bungalow bed and breakfast in a Lowland city suburb. Such product coherency extends to the politics of identity of the host. For example, a ‘Scottish’ host with an English accent who sports a kilt may appear out of place. Thus, the host needs to be seen to be in harmony with the spatial setting. Adoption of national themes thereby becomes problematical if coherency is lacking and may negatively affect the perception of product and therefore quality. In areas such as the Isles of Arran or Skye, where non-Scots are prevalent in the hospitality industry, adoption of totems of national identity by the hosts may appear inauthentic to their guests, and have unintended negative product consequences. Artifacts are inseparable from their setting, relying upon context for their existence and purpose. However, conceptually they can still be thought of as distinct and able to exist in
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their own right. For example, in a museum or art gallery exhibits and their accompanying captions are positioned against indistinct and plain backgrounds in order for the observer to view them individually and in a concentrated fashion. The observer thus becomes interpreter and art critic, and internalizes perceptions of the encounter. The context of the commercial home has less of this ordered structure. It presents an interesting mixture of interactions, artifacts and messages which are not staged and scripted to the same degree as in the more formalized setting of the art gallery. Hence, the context of the home encroaches upon commercial interests and leads the stranger as guest into observing the normal kaleidoscope of chaotic practicalities and eccentric personalities that are part of everyday lived experiences.
Conclusion The focus of this chapter has been on the way in which the domestic arena draws on context-dependent attributes and how symbols can sometimes signify (Scottish) identity as presented in the microcosm of the ‘stage’ of the commercial home enterprise. Setting closely interacts with artifacts. It is evident that commercial home setting and cultural geography affect the roles, interactions and perceptions of the host and the guest. The setting and its contents are an expression of the host. They affect the guest’s role by providing stimuli to which the guest responds, making judgements of the host and interpreting broader cultural connotations and values from their representations. The commercial home setting is not a static stage-set as implicit in Goffman’s (1959) analysis, but an active player in the dissemination of unfolding ‘scripts’. Both setting and individual objects interact with the host and the guest as active participants in the host–guest process. Instead of acting as a mere prop (Goffman, 1959), setting can be seen to ‘perform’ in its own right and is an important contributor to the hospitality transaction. The meanings and values of domestic symbols within commercial home enterprises are more than merely empty embodiments of aesthetic décor and functionality. They are cultural signifiers and communication tools that may be presented and coded by some hosts in order to be interpreted and decoded by the guest. They do more than relay personal tastes and expressions. Icons and symbols reflect an external world that permeates the internal sphere of the commercial home, whether or not that external is ‘real’ or remote in its conception or spatial proximity. Therefore, even if the actual location, such as the Scottish Highlands, being represented by the images and emblems can be readily experienced outside the commercial home, this is merely a secondary consideration. The image is as important as the reality and embodies a message to the guest, be it of place, culture, heritage or marketing myth.
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Crang, P. (1997). Performing the tourism product. In: C. Rojek, & J. Urry (Eds), Touring cultures: Transformations of travel and theory (pp. 137–154). London: Routledge. Csikszentmihalyi, M., & Rochberg-Halton, E. (1981). The meanings of things: Domestic symbols and the self (330pp.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Darke, J., & Gurney, C. (2000). Putting up? Gender, hospitality and performance, In: C. Lashley, &A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 77–99). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Devine, T. (1999). The Scottish nation: 1700–2000 (695pp.). London: Penguin. Di Domenico, M. (2003). Lifestyle entrepreneurs in the hospitality sector: Guest house owner-occupiers. Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Strathclyde, Glasgow. Di Domenico, M., & Morrison, A. (2003). Social action research and small hospitality firms. International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management, 15(5), 268–273. Edensor, T. (2001). Scottish popular culture: Embarrassment or asset? The uses and meanings of William Wallace. In: C. Di Domenico, A. Law, J. Skinner, & M. Smith (Eds), Boundaries and identities: Nation, politics and culture in Scotland (pp. 109–126). Dundee: University of Abertay. Finkelstein, J. (1989). Dining out: A sociology of modern manners (199pp.). Cambridge: Polity Press. Frisby, D. (1992). Sociological impressionism: A reassessment of Georg Simmel’s social theory (224pp.). London: Routledge. Getz, D., & Carlsen, J. (2000). Characteristics and goals of family and owner-operated businesses in the rural tourism and hospitality sectors. Tourism Management, 21, 547–560. Getz, D., Carlsen, J., & Morrison, A. (2004). The family business in tourism and hospitality (214pp.). Oxfordshire: CABI. Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life (256pp.). London: Penguin. Hewison, R. (1987). The heritage industry: Britain in a climate of decline (160pp.). London: Methuen. Hills, P. (1994). The cultural potency of Scotland. In: J. Fladmark (Ed.), Cultural tourism (448pp.). London: Donhead. Hochschild, A. (1983). The managed heart: Commercialisation of human feeling (330pp.). London: University of California Press. Lynch, M. (1992). Scotland: A new history (528pp.) London: Pimlico. Lynch, P. A. (2003). Conceptual relationships between hospitality and space in the homestay sector, Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Queen Margaret University College, Edinburgh. Lynch, P. A., & MacWhannell, D. (2000). Home and commercialised hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 100–117). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. MacCannell, D. (1973). Staged authenticity: Arrangements of social space in tourist settings. American Journal of Sociology. 79(3), 589–603. Marcus, C. C. (1995). House as a mirror of self: Exploring the deeper meaning of home (350pp.). Berkley: Conari Press. Martin, F., & Healy, C. (2003). At home in the suburb. In: F. Martin (Ed.) Interpreting everyday culture pp. 67–86. London: Edward Arnold. McCrone, D. (2001). Who are we? Understanding Scottish identity. In: C. Di Domenico, A. Law, J. Skinner, & M. Smith (Eds), Boundaries and identities: Nation, politics and culture in Scotland pp. 11–36. Dundee: University of Abertay. McCrone, D., Morris, A., & Kiely, R. (1995). Scotland the brand – The making of Scottish heritage (230pp.). Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. McIntosh, A., & Siggs, A. (2004). An exploration of the dimensions of the boutique accommodation experience in Nelson, New Zealand. Proceedings of tourism: State of the Art II research conference, University of Strathclyde, Glasgow.
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Morrison, A., Rimmington, M. and Williams, C. (1999) Entrepreneurship in the hospitality, tourism and leisure industries (224pp.). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Paterson, L. (1998). A diverse assembly: Debate on a Scottish parliament (335pp.). Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Porteous, D. J. (1996). Environmental aesthetics: Ideas, politics and planning (312pp.). London: Routledge. Rosie, G. (1992). Museumry and the heritage industry. In: J. Donnachie, & C. Whatley (Eds), The manufacture of Scottish history (160pp.). Edinburgh: Polygon. Selwyn, T. (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 18–37). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Storrar, W. (1990). Scottish identity: A Christian vision (270pp.). Edinburgh: Continuum: Handsel Press. Tucker, H., & Lynch, P. A. (2004). Host–guest dating: The potential of improving the customer experience through host–guest psychographic matching. Journal of Quality Assurance in Hospitality and Tourism, 5 (2/3/4), 11–32. Urry, J. (2002). The tourist gaze (2nd ed, 184pp.). London: Sage. Walsh, K. (1992). The representation of the past: Museums and heritage in the post-modern world (216pp.). London: Routledge. Ward, A., & Martens, L. (2000). Eating out: Social differentiation, consumption and pleasure (258pp.). Cambridge. Cambridge University Press. Wearing, B., & Wearing, S. (1996). Refocusing the tourist experience: The flaneur and the chorister. Leisure Studies, 15, 229–243.
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Chapter 10
Inhospitable Hospitality? George Ritzer
Introduction Classic definitions of hospitality suggest it is a social phenomenon with roots in societies extending through thousands of years (O’Gorman, 2005). In this context, hospitality has been described as the giving of food and sometimes accommodation to people who are not normally members of the household (Telfer, 2000). The host or giver of the hospitality typically shares these things in their own home and share their own sustenance with their guest at no charge or fee. Traditionally, there are social obligations to provide hospitality to strangers or to the poor and destitute (Heal, 1990). In this sense, hospitality involves hosts sharing their home with strangers and at the same time accepting responsibility for their safety and welfare and happiness. “If this is a host’s task, it is concerned with more than food, drink and shelter: it means that a host must try to cheer up a miserable guest, divert a bored one, care for a sick one” (Telfer, 2000). However, the key responsibility of the host is to ensure the safety and well-being of the guest while he or she is in the host’s home. Acts of hospitableness involve being hospitable for genuine motives. Typically, these involve the desire to please others through feelings of friendliness and benevolence or through enjoyment in giving pleasure. They may involve feelings of compassion for others or a desire to entertain friends. Truly hospitable behaviour has a concern for providing hospitality through helping, entertaining, protecting and serving guests. Where there are more ulterior motives — being hospitable to win favour or advantage with others, or for reasons of personal vanity — behaviour is not genuinely hospitable. For this reason, it is possible to argue that commercial hospitality is inhospitable because hospitable behaviour is being provided for ulterior motives to gain commercial advantage. Warde and Martens (2001) in their study of dining out in private and commercial settings drew the conclusion that diners tended to regard private hospitality as authentic and commercial hospitality experiences as simulated. Telfer (2000) disagrees Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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that commercial hospitality is inevitably inhospitable. She suggests that individuals who place high value on being hospitable may well be drawn to work in the hospitality industry and provide hospitable service to paying customers. In addition, many small firms in the sector are being operated for reasons that are not exclusively profit-orientated (Morrison, 2002; Lashley & Rowson, 2005). Lashley, Morrison, and Randall (2005) found that memorable meal occasions could be set in both private homes or in commercial restaurants. While recognizing that the commercial hospitality industry is not inevitably inhospitable, my work suggests that there are some trends and tendencies that are driving it in that direction.
Conceptualizing Hospitality Many of the issues that I have written about in the last two decades — fast food restaurants (Ritzer, 2004a), credit cards (Ritzer, 1995), as well as cathedrals of consumption (Ritzer, 2005) such as Las Vegas casino-hotels, cruise ships, theme parks, eatertainment, retailtainment and so on — are part of the hospitality industry. However, as I have thought about it, it seems clear that much of my work deals with the growing threat of inhospitality to the hospitality industry. In other words, there seems to be a basic and growing contradiction within the hospitality industry that poses a grave danger to some of its most basic assumptions, not the least of which is the very hospitality that lies at its core. The hospitality industry will certainly survive this threat — there are very strong trends leading more and more people to seek it out increasingly often — however, the industry of the future will simply not be nearly as hospitable as it has been and is. Coming to acquire the label of the ‘inhospitality industry’ just doesn’t have quite the right ring to it, but that just might be the most appropriate, if current trends continue, and there is no reason to think they will not. Let me illustrate what I mean from my favourite example overall, and one of the most inhospitable of places — the fast food restaurant. What makes it inhospitable? For one thing, instead of having people do things for you (a defining characteristic I would think of the hospitality industry), you are required to do virtually everything yourself (except perhaps cook your own food). For another, the cold and barren interiors of most fast food restaurants are far more hospitable to those who are paid to mop the floors or clean the tables than those who pay to eat there. And, of course, the worst is the drive-through window which makes it clear that the management would much prefer that you never enter the restaurant in the first place. The general threat to the hospitality industry is clear in my most recent book, The Globalization of Nothing (Ritzer, 2004b). In terms of the distinctions made in that book, the hospitality industry has in the past been based on places, things, people and services (overall, something in the terminology of the book), but it is threatened by a long-term trend in the direction of non-places, non-things, non-people and non-services (more generally, nothing). That which is nothing is virtually the definition of unwelcoming, inhospitable. In the following sections, I enumerate a series of concepts used in my books over the years and discuss their implications for the hospitality industry. The overall argument is
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that these trends auger well for the expansion of the hospitality industry at the same time that they threaten the hospitality that lies at its base. We need to wonder: What might a hospitality industry without hospitality look like? Efficiency One of the basic premises of McDonaldization is the constant drive to increase efficiency. Increased efficiency is desired not only as an end in itself but also because it leads to higher profits. Efficiently run hospitality settings are able to process more visitors more quickly and in the process produce higher profits. There is no debating the desirability of efficiency from a business point of view. Disney World is a classic example of the utilization of efficiency in the hospitality industry and it has, of course, been a great success and is regarded as a paradigm for many other aspects of the hospitality industry; the model for the process of Disneyization (Bryman, 1999; 2004). Indeed, in the tourist industry, I have combined McDonaldization and Disneyization (including their mutual concern for efficiency) under the heading of McDisneyization (Ritzer and Liska, 1997). Commercial hospitality organizations across all sectors of the industry are seeking efficiency by learning from the model developed in fast food restaurant. The search for greater efficiency in the use of service staff has resulted in many hotels, even luxury hotels, using self-service techniques at breakfast. Customers are frequently required to serve their own food, cook their own toast, and pour coffee and clear away crockery. Service staff on duty provide little service to customers other than replenishing food containers, cleaning tables and checking room details of the guest. As desirable as it may be on many grounds, efficiency seems antithetical to what we conventionally mean by hospitality. That is, a leisurely pace, doing whatever is necessary no matter how long it takes, to make guests feel welcome, would seem to lie at the core at what we mean by hospitality. Clearly, the need to handle people efficiently — be it in the local McDonald’s (especially its drive-through) or Disney World (with its innumerable conveyances and mechanisms to keep lines moving) — makes what we traditionally think of as hospitality impossible. Indeed, it could be argued that hospitality requires that those who provide it, operate in a largely inefficient way, at least as far as clients are concerned. Predictability McDonaldized systems tend to require a high degree of predictability from one time or place to another time or place. In part, this is a function of the fact that many settings, especially in the hospitality business, are part of chains, and visitors are believed to want, indeed require, great predictability in product and service from one setting to another. This is obviously true of the many restaurant chains, but is also true of other chains in the hospitality business, including hotel, pub, and gaming chains. Standardization of design, service style, portion sizes, uniforms, service times and even staff performance are all elements of the tendencies to predictability in hospitality services, particularly in large multi-site chains. While it is claimed that customers like the predictability of the large branded hotel, restaurant or bar, they also require service, which treats them as individuals, respects them for their individuality and treats them with
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respect. The down side of predictability is that customers are frequently not able to get the individual service they desire. Again, this appears to be in opposition to fundamental ideas associated with hospitality, especially that genuine hospitality requires adaptation to particular times, places and especially consumers. Consumers are seen, in the latter, as wanting, deserving, even requiring individualized, customized treatment (at least to some degree). However, such customization runs counter to the perceived need of large chains to offer predictable service. As a result, it is the case that hospitality, in the sense of customized attention and service, is either increasingly non-existent, or restricted to the very wealthy who can afford this kind of care and attention. Thus, the very expensive Seabourn cruises ($1000 a day or more per passenger) make it possible for the chef to prepare personalized recipes for passengers. In Las Vegas, the high rollers — the so-called ‘whales’ — may, among many other perks, get a personal valet. However, the mass of people on cruises get served in mass feedings, and the ‘low roller’ in Las Vegas is likely to be fed in anonymous (and assembly-line) fashion in one of the massive buffets that are so well known to the typical visitor to Las Vegas. Calculability There is an enormous emphasis in McDonaldized systems on things that can be quantified, and, in the process, qualitative matters (especially those that involve high quality) are deemphasized or even eliminated from consideration. What matters are the numbers of customers served, or the size of the portions of what they get, or the rapidity with which they get them. But again, this seems to run counter to the basic premises of hospitality, which give less emphasis to issues like speed of service or the amount that customers get. The emphasis is rather on the quality of the service and of the things that the customer is offered. The service that the customer gets in a motel chain, a fast food restaurant, a carnival cruise ship, a vast Las Vegas casino-hotel, or a theme park is nearly non-existent, let alone of high quality. Many hotels now contract out the room cleaning services to specialist firms who charge a rate per room cleaned. Hotel operators are able to calculate better the cost of cleaning rooms more easily than when they employ a standing workforce of room attendants. However, contract cleaners are less able to create empathy with guests. Regular guest, are likely to meet different individuals every time they stay; hotels are not able to provide contacts with service workers who are hospitable. Control The principles of the fast food business require a high degree of control of the business across all its hundreds or thousands of business units. Ensuring that brand standards are being met, service times are defined and delivered, costs are managed and expenditure limited requires a whole array of procedures that limit the initiative and authority of only but the more senior executives. In some cases, broken equipment cannot be fixed or replaced, or customer complaints dealt with rapidly, because local staff or managers are not allowed to make the decisions without authorization from a more senior manager.
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Again these controls act as a restraint on the ability to be hospitable. The controls required of the organization limit the flexibility required to meet unusual guest requests, to resolve customer complaints or to maintain high-quality and responsive service. Frequently employees complain of feeling disempowered, or they ‘leave their brains on the gate’, because little is required of them other than their labour. Non-Human for Human Technology There is great effort in McDonaldized systems to greatly limit what human employees do by constraining them and ultimately replacing them with non-human technologies. Examples are legion within the hospitality industry such as self-service check-in (and check-out) in hotels and at the airports. Calls to most hospitality centres are likely to be answered by voice mail rather than a human operator. In Las Vegas — and in virtually all casinos throughout the world — casino floors are increasingly dominated by the enormously (and reliably and predictably) profitable slot machines in which gamblers are required to produce their own games of chance in interaction with those machines. The fact is that people, as employees, are increasingly regarded as too expensive and therefore expendable within the hospitality industry. Of course, the implication is that in what sense can we talk about a hospitality industry if there are fewer and fewer people employed in it and in a position to offer hospitality? Furthermore, since customers are increasingly dealing with non-human technologies of one kind or another, in what sense can we think of machines as offering hospitality? Of being hospitable? Maybe, the robots of the distant future can be programmed to act hospitably, but we are a long way from such technology and, in any case, does even such an advanced robot come anywhere close to what has been traditionally meant by hospitality? Irrationality of Rationality Ultimately, the idea of the irrationality of irrationality is the umbrella term for all of the negative aspects of increasing McDonaldization. It encompasses not only much of what has been described in the preceding sections, but increasing homogenization, disenchantment and dehumanization. It seems to me that hospitality is premised on the opposites of each of these — diversity and differentiation, enchantment and humanization. That is, the hospitality industry is, or has at least been, premised on offering visitors service that meets their individual needs (differentiation), has magical qualities, and is based on human beings offering humanized services. The trend in many aspects of the hospitality industry — restaurant chains (not just fast-food, but eatertainment sites and high-end chains like Morton’s), theme parks, casino, hotel chains, and cruise ships — is to offer homogenous and homogenised settings and experiences, highly rationalised settings and operations that are largely devoid of magic and enchantment, and services that are either mechanised or offered by humans in a highly mechanical manner. Can we think of settings and services that are homogenous, disenchanted and dehumanized in terms of hospitality, at least as the term has been used traditionally?
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Simulated Hospitality Whether or not it is realistic or even possible, hospitality tends to carry with it a sense of authenticity. In a truly hospitable relationship, the consumer is offered an authentic experience by people who behave in a genuinely authentic manner. However, the demands of the modern hospitality industry — defined by large numbers of visitors and requiring large-scale and continually repeated experiences — makes true authenticity, and therefore hospitality, all but impossible. Instead, what visitors encounter are simulations — fakes — in terms of either people or experiences. Thus, natural, authentic attractions often need to be closed off or modified in order not to be adversely affected, or even destroyed, by the crush of large number of visitors. This means that visitors do not have access to authentic sites but experience simulated sites. In some cases, the simulation takes the form of modifying a once authentic site so that it is no longer authentic. In other cases a totally inauthentic site is constructed near an authentic site and visitors are only allowed access to the simulation. Furthermore, the need to protect authentic locales often means that visitors are treated inhospitably. The same applies to the human beings that visitors encounter — they, too, can be seen as simulations. At one level, this is the false friendliness of staff members who follow scripts designed to make them seem to visitors as if they are ‘really’ friendly. At another level, there are various forms of entertainment put on for visitors in which ‘natives’ go through the motions of putting on an ‘authentic local performance, often in ‘authentic’ garb, for visitors. I can think, for example, of a recent trip to Jamaica, where we were greeted at the airport by Jamaicans in what appeared to be native garb (the females dressed in what can only be described as ‘mammy’ costumes) singing a few well-known local tunes by way of greeting deplaning tourists. In fact, when we left Jamaica a few days later, the same group (with one or two personnel changes) was there in the same costume, singing the same songs. Or, I can remember a trip to New Zealand where ‘authentically’ dressed Maoris put on one of those now well-known (through the movies, and elsewhere) dances for us, including a number of menacing moves and welltimed tongue thrusts. The problem is that these may be well-meaning natives, but they are done in by the need to put on the same performance over and over, sometimes several times a day, for tourists who often have little time or interest in it. For example, those rushing through the airport and struggling to get through customs have little time to devote much attention to the Jamaicans singing at the airport in Montego Bay. Thus, there is little inducement for the natives to make the performances authentic. And if the inducement is there, it is hard to maintain the enthusiasm needed for a performance when one has to do it over and over for each planeload of largely unappreciative tourists. Authenticity is a difficult concept and it is often very hard to define exactly what we mean by it and to identify with any precision that which is authentic. However, we can pretty much agree when we are witnessing something that is so routine and mechanical that it offends us with its inauthenticity. The problem, for me, is that much that passes for authenticity in the contemporary hospitality industry is of this type and thus, at least to me, quite repelling.
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Implosion By this, I mean the process where hospitality professionals introduce a variety of attractions and activities to visitors. Examples include the enormous cruise ships or casinohotels that encompass hotels, casinos, shopping malls, spas, fast food restaurants, upscale restaurants, discos, night clubs, entertainment, retailtainment and so on. It is quite spectacular from the perspective of the consumer to find all this, and much more, within one setting. Furthermore, almost all bases are covered and there is something in these settings for everyone. However, the downside is overkill and overload. In trying to be different things to all visitors (from the very young to the old-old), these settings of implosion may end up being little or nothing to anybody. Enchantment/Disenchantment In the end, one of the major challenges facing hospitality settings is how to balance enchantment and disenchantment. On the one hand, such settings want and need to feel from the visitor’s perspective, enchanted, phantasmagoric, magical (as, for example, in Disney’s Magic Kingdom). All the great cathedrals of consumption — Las Vegas casino hotels, theme parks, cruise ships, mega-malls — strive to offer a sense of enchantment. The dilemma is that in order to satisfy the throngs of people who are likely to be attracted to a setting that successfully enchants itself (or at least seems to), or to replicate such a magical setting thousands of times in numerous cities, towns and even countries (as McDonald’s and others have done), operations need to be disenchanted. That is, the magic needs to be broken down into a routine series of procedures that can be repeated over and over, sometimes in one or a few locales (one of Disney’s theme parks), and other times in many settings strung out throughout the world (as in McDonald’s or Starbucks). Disenchantment is, of course, another word for rationalization and the point is that hospitality settings must, if they are to be successful, rationalize or disenchant themselves. In so doing, they undercut the enchantment that lies at the base of their success. Emulation There is a tendency in the hospitality industry — and it is certainly not alone in this (universities, hospitals, athletic facilities, and museums also fall victim to it) — to emulate those aspects of it that have become successful. Thus, McDonald’s, Starbucks, Disney World, the Bellagio casino-hotel and the Las Vegas Strip more generally, the Carnival cruise line, the Hard Rock Café and so on become models for many other hospitality settings. Efforts are made to copy the reasons for the success of the latter (in that sense, the copies become simulations of the originals), and while this may make a number of positive contributions, it also makes a series of negative ones. Not the least of the negative contributions is a repetition of the kind of difficulties enumerated above in other hospitality settings. Furthermore, those difficulties are replicated in settings that are but pale imitations of the originals (something that is, in itself, a problem). Thus, for example, Pigeon Forge, Tennessee (home of the Dollywood theme park) has created a ‘Parkway’ that feels very much
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like a mini-version of the Las Vegas Strip except that its dominant structures are country music halls and motel chains rather than casino hotels. It is a pale imitation of the Strip and it has a range of the difficulties described above such as predictability (all of the fast food and motel chains you can think of are arrayed along the Parkway), simulation (for example, Carbo’s Police Museum, Elwood Smooch’s Hillbilly Hoedown), and ultimately disenchantment. Nothing In my most recent book, I have created the concept of nothing to describe social forms — including those that are part of the hospitality industry — that are centrally conceived and controlled, and lacking in distinctive content. This is contrasted to something, or social forms that are locally conceived, controlled and rich in distinctive content. Under these terms, the problem facing hospitality the industry is the danger of losing ‘something’ that lies at its base in a headlong rush in the direction of the proliferation of nothing. Rather than discuss this in general terms, I focus on the four sub-continua discussed under the heading of something-nothing. Place-Non-Place A place is a setting that is locally conceived, controlled and rich in distinctive content. It seems to me that it is the place that is one of the cornerstones of the hospitality industry — the lodge in a national park, the hotel on the beach, a safari in the jungle, and so on. The problem is that true places do not yield great profits and, if they are successful, they cannot accommodate the great crowds that they come to attract. However, they also attract entrepreneurs who may well try to buy them, expand them, or replicate them in many different locales. In doing so, they almost inevitably transform these places into non-places characterized by central conception, control and lack of distinctive content. To the degree that non-places proliferate, and consumers come to see them as non-places, is the degree to which the hospitality industry threatens to destroy the very basis of its success. At the minimum, those who were attracted in the past to places, are likely to be put off by, and unlikely to visit, non-places. A useful contrast here is what Ray Oldenburg (1989/1997) called ‘great good places’ and I have termed McDonaldized settings. Oldenburg has in mind things like local pubs, cafes, diners, ‘greasy spoons’, and the like that were, and in a few cases still are, places since they are locally conceived, controlled and rich in distinctive content. In contrast, McDonaldized settings are, by their very nature, non-places since they are centrally conceived, controlled and lacking in distinctive content. Thus, the trend from great good places to McDonaldized settings is a more specific way of describing the more general trend away from places and in the direction of non-places in the hospitality industry. Things-Non-Things The hospitality industry, like many other parts of society, is, at least in part, about selling things. Souvenirs have long been, if not always, part of that industry. However, the trend has been away from offering visitors things- which is locally conceived and controlled and rich in distinctive content to non-things with essentially the opposite characteristics. To put
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it succinctly, authentic local products and crafts have largely given way to mass-produced (perhaps in China) tourist souvenirs and kitsch. Even that which is still a craft-like local product moves in the direction of being a non-thing as it is reproduced over and over to meet the needs of an increasingly large number of visitors. Consumers may be willing to travel large distances at higher expense in order to obtain things, but are they going to be willing, or continue to be willing, to do the same for non-things. Furthermore, why undergo great effort and expense to acquire a non-thing in some far-off place (say, a glass globe that when shaken ‘snows’ on a replica of the Eiffel Tower inside) when one can obtain a very similar non-thing right at home (say, a globe with snow falling on the Empire State Building or the Taj Mahal or Big Ben inside). People-Non-People The hospitality industry has come to be increasingly dominated by non-people, that is, people whose thoughts, actions and even emotions, at least on the job, tend to be centrally conceived, controlled and lacking in distinctive content. Thus, the way that hotel desk clerks or croupiers tend to relate to visitors is based on scripts written by employees in the central office. Similarly, the cast members at Disney World — whether they are in or out of costume — are likely to relate to visitors to the park in a highly scripted manner. While the denizen of the Mickey Mouse costume is clearly a non-person, Disney cast members out of costume relate to tourists in pretty much the same way. Once again, we come to the issue of whether tourists are going to continue to go to great effort and expense to travel great distances to encounter non-people when they can encounter similar non-people (likely sans the Mickey Mouse costume) on a daily basis at the their local fast food restaurant, Wal-Mart, or supermarket. Service-Non-Service Finally, the term ‘hospitality’ would seem to imply service that is locally conceived, controlled rich and distinctive in content. Thus, a local hotel (or restaurant) offers unique service that its own management and staff conceives, controls and imbues with distinctive content. However, when that hotel (or restaurant) becomes part of a chain, then that service comes to be conceived and controlled by the chain’s distant, central management and the service in any one hotel in the chain is largely indistinguishable from that offered in any other hotel that is part of the chain. Furthermore, as we have already discussed, the modern hospitality business is moving increasingly in the direction of the ultimate in non-service, that is, insisting that visitors provide their own service. Examples include self check-in at hotels and airports, as well as the increasing reliance on slot machines at casinos where players produce their own games rather than producing them in concert with service workers.
Conclusion Sociology has replaced economics as the ‘dismal science’ and the purpose of this essay has been to point to some worrisome trends in the hospitality industry. Indeed, most of these
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trends can be dealt with under the heading of the increasing inhospitality of the hospitality industry. This growing contradiction poses a real danger to the industry. Of course, it could attempt to bring reality more in line with its name by renaming itself the ‘inhospitality industry’, but that might be just a tad counterproductive. The alternative would be to see to what degree the trends towards inhospitality can be slowed, stopped, or reversed. I am not optimistic about any of the latter possibilities, but there is a model that can be seen as part of the hospitality industry that offers some hope. I am thinking of the Slow Food Movement and its support for traditional foods and modes of food production, homecooked meals, non-chain restaurants producing authentic and high-quality dishes, and even (slow) cities that seek to retain some characteristics of a place in the face of the pressures to move in the direction of a non-place. Perhaps what the hospitality industry needs is an organization that applies some of the lessons learned by the Slow Food Movement (and develops a set of lesson of its own) to the broader hospitality industry. In spite of the problems discussed in this essay, the hospitality industry is in no serious danger — indeed, various trends indicate that it should continue its dramatic expansion of recent decades. However, there is a fundamental contradiction in its midst. The hope is that the newer consumers of the hospitality industry would have increasingly less experience with the hospitality that traditionally lies at its base. In that case, they will have little difficulty accepting its increasing inhospitality, indeed they will increasingly know no difference. They may, in fact, think the inhospitality they encounter is actually hospitality (‘how nice of you to let me scan and even bag my own groceries’). Yet, one is led to wonder about a hospitality industry increasingly characterized by inhospitality and whether it can prosper or even survive in the long-term with this contradiction in its midst.
References Bryman, A. (1999). The disneyization of society. Sociological Review 47, 25–47. Bryman, A. (2004). The disneyization of society. London: Sage, 216pp. Heal, F. (1990). Hospitality in early modern england. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lashley, C., Morrison, A., & Randall, S., (2005). More than a service encounter? Insights into the emotions of hospitality through special meal occasions, Journal of Hospitality and Tourism Management, 12(1), 80–92 Lashley, C., & Rowson, B., (2005). Developing management skills in blackpool’s small hotel sector: A research report for England’s North West tourism skills network. Nottingham: Nottingham Trent University Morrison, A., (2002). Hospitality Research: A pause for reflection, International Journal of Tourism Research, 4, 161–169 O’Gorman, K. (2005). Hospitality dimensions: Ancient and classical origins. CHME Research conference, Bournemouth: Bournemouth University. Oldenburg, R. (1989/1997). The great good place. New York: Marlowe. 336pp. Ritzer, G. (1995). Expressing America: A critique of the global credit card society. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 240pp. Ritzer, G. (2004a). The McDonaldization of society: Revised New Century Edition. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 308pp. Ritzer, G. (2004b). The globalization of nothing. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 258pp.
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Ritzer, G. (2005). Enchanting a disenchanted world: Revolutionizing the means of consumption, (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 261pp. Ritzer, G. & Liska, A. (1997). McDisneyization’ and ‘Post-Tourism’: complementary perspectives on contemporary tourism. In C. Rojek, & J. Urry (Eds.). Touring cultures: Transformations in travel and theory London: Routledge. pp. 96–109. Telfer, E. (2000). The philosophy of hospitableness, In C. Lashley, & A. Morrison, (Eds) In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates, Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Warde, A. & Martens, L. (2001). Eating out. London: Sage.
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Chapter 11
The Power of Hospitality: A Sociolinguistic Analysis Martha Robinson and Paul Lynch
Introduction This chapter investigates the language of social control relations established within the parameters of hospitality. The focus is on the consumer/provider discourse in the context of the fast-food restaurant experience, and accesses a subjective consumer perspective through the language of poetry. In an effort to follow the more general trend of a multidisciplinary approach in the hospitality field, we will evaluate the usefulness of systematic linguistic analyses of literary texts as a powerful qualitative research method for enhancing hospitality studies in general. In particular, we will highlight its usefulness in tapping into subjective social control issues that emerge in language use in particular contexts. According to Lashley (2000) and Lashley and Morrison (2003), the central concepts underlying the social dynamics of hospitality are: the philanthropic exchange and mutuality between guests and hosts. Its main aim is to transmit feelings of welfare and bounty. Nevertheless, as soon as hospitality becomes a trade exchange, it becomes an instance of a controlled negotiation between a customer and a host. Not only is this exchange exempt of reciprocity but also providers use a great number of controlling techniques (marketing, quality control, management, etc.) in order to entice customers to enter the hospitality transaction. This situation is what has come to be known as ‘the commercial hospitality paradox’ (Lashley & Morrison, 2003, p. 32). In this context, therefore, hospitality is nothing but other than an example of controlled exchange. We interpret controlled exchanges as instances of situations where power1 relations are established. According to Locher (2004), power can be exercised at any moment or situation
1
We are unable to provide an exhaustive overview on Power Theory and pick out what is relevant to our discussion. For more systematic and up to date overviews on related issues in the context of sociolinguistic studies see Holmes and Stubbe (2003) and Locher (2004).
Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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where two or more individuals are involved in social exchanges. In fact, the exercise of power can be seen unexpectedly in situations where there is no visible hierarchy in exchange relationships (like among friends, commercial exchanges, etc.). Manipulation and social control can occur at any level or where individuals are involved in conversational exchanges, even if there is no overt power asymmetry. Therefore, power is relational and it mirrors the level of solidarity between interactants (Locher, 2004). Arguably, there should be no surprise that such a power dynamic occurs in the commercial hospitality exchange given that any commercial product innovation can be conceived as attempting to create demand and thereby influence, shape and determine the wants of potential consumers. Therefore, the relational and subjective nature of power relations is fundamental to the nature of the commercial hospitality experience. The hospitality exchange relies highly on verbal face-to-face interactions. Although superficially there is no obvious hierarchy among interactants, in practice the hospitality exchange presents an environment which lends itself to manipulation as providers entice customers into the commercial exchange by means of intricate and often covert marketing devices.
Hospitality, Control and Sociolinguistics In recent years, interesting and qualitative sociolinguistic studies of the ‘talk’ of organisations have emerged, for example, Holmes and Stubbe (2003) or Locher (2004). Most typically, the studies concentrate on the language underlying relational exchanges among individuals, and they unveil invaluable insights into the linguistic patterns of intangible aspects of interactions between individuals. Although not immediately apparent, these are issues belonging to the world of beliefs, attitudes and behavioural blueprints that everybody understands and knows very well, yet are often left unexpressed. Because these ideological issues appear deeply embedded in the psychology of the individuals (as they are part of the way people have been brought up), they tend to then emerge as linguistic patterns. These studies typically involve conversational analysis of actual speech in conversations or interviews. We will not go into detail into the pros and cons of the different approaches, as they are devoted to the analysis of actual speech gained from controlled interviews and here the concern is with literary texts. Nevertheless, what is of interest is that these studies highlight issues of control strategies among individuals in organisations and are then related to politeness in connection with status and power relations. We will, therefore, incorporate the spirit of these studies into our literary analysis. The hospitality and tourism service interaction between host and guest is an important social encounter, although sociolinguistic studies are rare. Goffman (1959) analyses the structure of social encounters and focuses upon the power play between two interacting ‘teams’. In a tourism context, emphasis has been placed upon transcultural situations. Cohen (1986) employed sociolinguistic analysis combined with sociological analyses to examine communication between temporary foreigners and locals. Cohen (1986) stressed the theoretical significance of the temporality of the interaction. The author's observation that in a tourist encounter with local personnel, the tourist is ascribed a high situational status even though they are of lower status than those serving is relevant to this discussion. Also, the observation that tourism is ‘commercialized hospitality’ (original emphasis)
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(Cohen, 1986, p. 539) and that leads to a process of accommodation by the locals to use tourist language (either the actual tourist’s language or a lingua franca) referred to as TT. TT is associated with ‘a relatively small number of routines’ that are ‘well practiced’ through ‘essentially similar encounters’ and involves the locals using a ‘pseudo-personalized style of speech’ involving ‘staged friendliness and intimacy’(pp. 543–544). Interestingly, Cohen (1986) associates TT with locals engaged with the more peripheral enterprises rather than those establishments central to the tourist experience such as hotels and restaurants that need a higher level of tourist language. In respect of tourism situations, Dann (1996) highlights the power of language and discourse to engender feelings of ‘oneup-manship’ among interlocutors in the exchange. To summarise, the hospitality exchange is considered to be essentially concerned with control and our interest lies in analysing the consumer articulated experience of the control strategies. The chosen method of investigation is via an autobiographical account of a single hospitality experience chosen from a selection of published poems concerned with the consumption of hospitality (Robinson & Lynch, 2005).
Literature and Qualitative Research Methodology The debate between the validity of quantitative versus qualitative research methodologies has been central to most disciplines in the humanities for decades. The origin of this debate is related to the application of scientific methodology to the area of humanities and social sciences. The aim has been to provide descriptive adequacy and rigour to the subjects at hand. For its part, the area of hospitality studies has not been exempt from this debate. Traditionally mostly quantitative methodology has been employed in this subject (Lynch, 2005). The main purpose has been the pursuit of valuable statistical information about the material conditions of, for instance, a certain social group or even general market, and psychological trends of types of customers. The result of this type of approach is purported to be objective and a close representation of the true state of affairs. However, if the focus lies on subjective experiences of hospitality, the situation is much more murky because of the very nature of intangible experiences, which are almost impossible to quantify. The nature of an experience can be considered to be both objective consciousness, i.e., that which is measurable and can be made concrete, and also subjective unconsciousness, i.e., that which is not directly measurable and refers to the intangible feelings arising from an experience. Therefore, historical documents and data gained from surveys have very limited value in endeavouring to explore the subjective experience. One such area where this becomes most apparent is in studies concerning the control mechanisms from organisations over customers and employees. These strategies are often intangible and very difficult to define or even pin-point (Ritzer, 1996). Hospitality, given the high level of social interactions it relies on, and by its very nature its reliance on controlling mechanisms, is also a prime candidate for an approach involving the systematic analysis of linguistic patterns. Literary texts provide a means of examination of the nature of the controlled hospitality experience from a subjective guest perspective. This exercise is interesting because it provides a new dimension of qualitative research, especially when examining such intangible aspects
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as power relations established in restaurant exchange experiences. As O´Barr (1984) argues, ‘literary texts provide a wealth of material for political scientists interested in the study of power, its origins and its use’ (O’Barr, 1984, p. 218). In addition, as the same author argues, because literature tends to rely on a certain degree of introspection, it is possible to glean a clearer picture of people’s behaviour. Therefore, the collection of data from literature is as powerful an exercise, as the more conventional methods, especially as mentioned above, when dealing with more subjective areas of behaviour such as politeness and social controlling mechanisms. Given the centrality of commercial hospitality to society, it is unsurprising that it should be the subject of written narratives. The choice of poetry is particularly apposite although their use to explore the hospitality or tourism experience is very rare. However, Noy (2005) employed an autobiographical poem to explore the memory of a tourism experience. As Paterson (2004, p. 34) mentions, poetry is associated with ‘the systematic interrogation of the unconscious’ and also having ‘intrinsic cultural value’, something which ‘invokes’. In line with qualitative research investigations, poetry creates a universe, not the universe. A poem is a social construction, a phenomenological view of the world that permits an examination of the individual subjective experience. While the articulation of the experience is unique to the poet, the power of poetry often relies on its ability to strike a chord with its audience as a shared, familiar, actual and/or emotional experience. In what follows we present our chosen poem for this chapter Would you like fries with that? by Ed McCabe, and we will also present the initial control frame presented in it which underlies our linguistic ‘subsequent analysis’. Analysis of Poem Would you like fries with that?
2 4
6 8
10 12
14 16
Learn your lines, automate your thought The service conveyor belt trundles on Enforcing first name intimacy With my 5 star service general. Quickly I edge up the queue Crocodiling my way forward I can see my turn coming Mentally I rehearse my imperfect lines Rapier like I order my meal A double cheeseburger, hold the gherkin I wait for an eternal 60 seconds Before my depressed delight appears Clutching my bag, serviette, small refreshment (no ice) I sit down beside the depressed chumpers A 10 minute holiday from the outside world Mechanically I eat my unhappiness away. Ed McCabe (2002)
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In Ed McCabe´s inspirational poem is depicted an instance of a host/customer relationship that is clearly dominated by control. From a general perspective, it is possible to ascertain that the host is the controller and the customer is the controlled relational element. This relationship can be reinterpreted under the auspices of what has come to be known in the literature as the process of MacDonaldisation (Ritzer, 1996) which is the process by which the principles of the fast-food restaurant are coming to dominate more and more sectors of American society as well as of the rest of the world. Ritzer (1996, p. 1) This well-known process has been described as permeating all levels of society (education, business, work, education, travel, leisure, etc.) and it involves high levels of control of customers, and of employees from managers and institutions for the sake of efficiency, calculability and predictability. From Would you like fries with that?, it is possible to see how the above control mechanism applies, as not only does the customer not rebel, but instead she/he is quite happy to enter an Orwellian universe where from the start not only one, but two hosts are setting out the rules for interaction. Host one we will call the omniscient or macro-host who is taken to represent the institution in a broad sense behind the fast food outlet and who is part of the macro-universe where beliefs and expectations are the driving forces. Host two we characterise as a micro-host who is part of the micro-universe of the actual restaurant experience and who is in some sense, the extension of the macro-host. This second host is taken to be an intermediary controller in place of the control relationship established in the macrouniverse by the macro-host. The link between these two hosts establishes a double control relationship and which in turn, creates a control chain between the omniscient macro-host, the micro-host and the controlled customer. This relationship is depicted in Figure 11.1. The double control dependency represented in Figure 11.1 can also be represented formally as below: (macro-host (micro-host ⬎ customer)).
Macro-Universe Micro-Universe macro-host
micro-host
customer
Figure 11.1: The control chain.
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Here is found a set of theoretical representation of the double control relationship: the macro-host controls both the micro-host and the customer, yet the micro-host controls only the customer. This double control dependency takes us to divide Would you like fries with that? into two clearly thematically defined parts. The first one, represented in the first quartet (v1 – v4) and where is depicted ‘the voice’ of the host in the macro-universe. The second part of the poem is constituted by the remaining three quartets (v5 – v16), in which is found the total submission of the customer to his controllers. These two parts are mirrored not only thematically but also by the linguistic and stylistic means utilised in each part, as will be seen in more detail further below. However, what is highlighted at present, is the fact that these control relations are very subtle and subjective, as individuals partaking in fast-food outlet experiences are often not aware that controlling mechanisms are in operation (Ritzer, 1996). We include these descriptively as belonging to the area of what has come to be known in the literature as the ‘intangibles of hospitality’ (see Lynch, 2005, for a more detailed discussion on the subject). Together with Holmes and Stubbe (2003) and Locher (2004), we claim that these subjective control mechanisms, although not explicit, do in fact, emerge in the linguistic patterns of the individuals involved in hospitality exchanges. The underlying idea is that often in society groups that have goals in common, or even if they have similar educational backgrounds, belong to the same class or ethnic groups, etc., tend to use similar linguistic devices to interact with one another. As Holmes (1992) puts it when people belong to the same group, they often speak similarly Holmes (1992, p. 175) Language understood in this way then becomes a tool for the construction of social identities. In what follows we will see how the identity of the macro-/micro-host and customer identities are constructed in Would you like fries with that? Earlier we mentioned that Part I of the poem presents the figure of the macro-host. In this investigation, we relate this concept as being in some sense associated with what in the area of literary criticism has been called the omniscient narrator (Leech & Short, 1981). In the text, she/he is generally associated linguistically with impersonal third person narration. This type provides descriptive distance, because it eliminates the first person of address (the ‘I’ form) and second person (the ‘you’ form), and as a result, the personal involvement of the author in the text. This is precisely what is found in v2 and v3 in the first quartet of the poem presented below: v2 v3
The service conveyor belt trundles on Enforcing first name intimacy
From a stylistic point of view, in these two verses the third person narration appears to have two functions. First, it presents the reader with descriptive distance in recounting the general state of affairs of a fast-food outlet experience. Second, by employing the third person, it prepares us mentally to enter the experience of this impersonal environment. Reinforcement of these two issues is found especially in v2 where ‘the service conveyor
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belt’ ‘trundles on’ in onomatopoeic fashion. It presents an automated world that is purported to free the customer from his/her thoughts and identity. Nevertheless, the definite noun phrase ‘the conveyor belt’ communicates that this scenario is not unknown. According to the linguistic principle where definite noun phrases introduce information in the discourse that is already known to the speaker/hearer, ‘the conveyor belt’ provides the axis for anaphoric reference. In other words, the definite noun phrase provides a link to the macro-universe (i.e., the world of expectations), and the micro-universe (i.e, the actual experience). The customer enters this micro-universe without expectations and knows how to conduct himself/herself in this environment: he/she then becomes an automaton in search of the promise of some sort of paradise, as is found expressed in v15 and v16. v15 v16
A 10 minute holiday from the outside world Mechanically I eat my unhappiness away.
Nevertheless, already the form of the gerund ‘enforcing’ in v3, makes us question whether this is such an innocent and desirable environment. ‘enforcing’ is linked directly to the imperatives ‘learn’ and ‘automate’ occurring at the onset of the poem in v1. It is through these imperatives that is heard ‘the voice’ of the macro-host preparing the customer for this automated world. Thus, the link between ‘enforcing’ and the imperatives introduces two superimposed levels of discourse: one relating to the macro-universe through the macro-host and the second level relating to the micro-universe and the micro-host. By extension, these two linked levels of discourse also create the control relationship chain mentioned above in Figure 11.1 between the macro- and micro-hosts and the customer. The use of imperatives, in addition, defines the type of relationship established between the hosts and the customer by introducing an interesting paradox which relates to the dimension of politeness. According to Holmes (1992) and Holmes and Stubbe (2003), politeness involves the assessment of social interaction in terms of social distance or solidarity and in relation to power or social status. Solidarity and status are then taken as pivots for the definition of two differentiated types of politeness relations: positive and negative politeness (see Locher 2004 for a more detailed overview on the subject of politeness). In the first instance, positive politeness is taken in Holmes (1992) and Holmes and Stubbe (2003) as being solidarity oriented. In other words, social interaction is based around shared attitudes and values. One example for positive politeness can be the situation where a superior, such as a boss, suggests that a subordinate should use the first name of address (i.e., Peter, Mary, etc.) in an attempt to diminish differences relative to status. The superior is then expressing solidarity towards the subordinate employee. Negative politeness in contrast, is based on maintaining respect towards the status of people by avoiding intrusion and taking into consideration social distance and formality. One clear example of negative politeness is the usage of title and last name (i.e., Mr. Smith, Mrs. Robinson) to superiors and even to people who are older or the ones that are unfamiliar. The use of imperatives is a very direct means of address, and is often used by superiors to those of subordinate status. In essence, they are very impolite and the fact that the macro-host uses them to address the micro-customer indicates either a complete lack of
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respect or a high level of familiarity. By way of illustration let us examine the following counterexample where the directive expression has been underlined: I now call on the Vice-Chancellor to read the citation for our distinguished guest. (Example from Holmes, 1992, p. 264) The above quotation is an example of an indirect directive embedded in a declarative sentence. The order ‘to read the citation’ is an infinitival subordinate clause linked to the performative expression ‘call on’ which is part of the main clause. It is general wisdom that from a cognitive point of view; subordinate clauses are more difficult to process than simple ones. As a result, in our opinion this delay makes them less direct. Therefore, by expressing directives as embedded clauses the speaker is then able to make them less direct, and in turn is able to sound more polite. Indirect directives then express negative politeness and the delay in processing lends the social interaction with the required distance and formality in a situation where the individuals are unknown to each other. In other words, the social balance of the interaction becomes moderated by a display of consideration between interactants. In the poem, however, is found the exact reverse: the imperatives ‘learn’ and ‘automate’ occur both as main verbs in simple juxtaposed declaratives and in absolute sentence initial position. The macro-host, therefore, addresses the customer directly without linguistic obstacles ordering him/her to join the automated micro-universe of the fast food outlet as if he knew the customer very well. It is precisely here where the paradox lies: the macro-host treats the customer as if he/she were a best friend in a situation where people do not know each other. The macro-host even goes as far as imposing positive politeness by ‘enforcing first name intimacy’ through the micro-host in v4 (the ‘five star service general’) in an attempt to express some sort of fake solidarity. The macro-host is behaving like a superior towards the customer who is viewed as a subordinate. Second names make a first name more specific and by denying the customer of a more specific denotation it adds to the impersonal and automated scenario of the fast food outlet. This takes us to the discussion of the second part of the poem, constituted by the remaining three quartets. As mentioned above, here is found the expression of the total submission of the customer to his macro- and micro-controllers and this again is mirrored by the text. A shift from third person narration and the use of imperatives, to the introduction of the ‘I’ person is noted. Here, first person narration introduces to the reader a personal and subjective involvement of the character represented in the poem. More specifically, through this stylistic trick, McCabe introduces a change of mood and the reader experiences the fast food outlet from the point of view of the customer represented in the following themes: the total submission of the host to the macro- and micro-hosts, the relationship to the food consumed, the time-frame element of the experience and the sad and depressed outcome or state of affairs in the fast food restaurant. The first theme is introduced in the first quartet. Total submission is expressed initially by the manner adverb quickly appearing in v5 and the gerundive expression crocodiling in v6 presented below: v5 v6
Quickly I edge up the queue Crocodiling my way forward
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The type of movement denoted by crocodiling introduces a simile representing the image of the customer having become part of the conveyor belt in v2. The customer is now an automaton in this fast food restaurant micro-universe as is seen from v16: v16
Mechanically I eat my unhappiness away.
The customer has become such an integral part of the micro-universe control relation that he/she is not even able to discern the relationship towards the food consumed in such a type of establishment. v10 v12 v13
A double cheeseburger, hold the gherkin Before my depressed delight appears Clutching my bag, serviette, small refreshment (no ice)
These latter verses take us then to the final quartet, where we find the ultimate expression of the final sad and depressed state of affairs state the customer is exposed to in the fast food outlet: A depressed delight, sitting among ‘depressed chumpers’ (in v14), mechanically eating ‘my unhappiness away’ (in v16). v14 v16
I sit down beside the depressed chumpers Mechanically I eat my unhappiness away.
The type of submission we have just described, we interpret in the light of the prime ethos of the fast food outlet: to make the experience as uncomfortable and depressing as possible so that customers leave quickly and then make space for new ones (Ritzer, 1996). One further dimension related to this latter ethos, is the time frame sub-theme which we find introduced first, by the adverb quickly (in v1) that is already mentioned above. There it was mentioned that from a descriptive point of view, it is a manner adverb, but in relation to the concept of time, it can also be interpreted as introducing this very sub-theme to the reader. Namely, on the assumption that time succeeds in linear fashion, we find that quickly in v5 is ambiguous between a manner and a temporal advert because by engaging in the fast food experience in this way, it leads the reader to the final outcome and climax more speedily: v15
A 10 minute holiday from the outside world.
Other time related expressions supporting this sub-theme can be seen in v7 and v11 presented below: v7 v11
I can see my turn coming I wait for an eternal 60 seconds.
Both coming in v7 and the Prepositional Phrase for an eternal 60 seconds in v11 develop this final idea as part of the fast-food ethos. The experience not only has to be uncomfortable and depressing, it also has to be fast.
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Discussion The hospitality experience described is not specifically contextualised, i.e., associated with a specific geographical location. It is universal to the location of the fast food experience, although one might argue there is a cultural connection associated with the author’s intellectual and emotional perspectives. While it addresses a hospitality phenomenon, it is also a commentary concerned with hospitality as a broader social and cultural phenomenon, i.e., the described micro-hospitality event more broadly reflects the macro-society in which it is located. The idea of the control chain where the macro-host is the franchising company controlling both the employee as well as the customer through the employee, introduces an interesting dual level of control to which the customer is exposed. Would you like fries with that? serves as an exemplar of fast food restaurants and their impersonal environments. Entering such a world has a depersonalising effect upon the individual, possibly reinforcing a broader sense of the outside world as equally depersonalised; it is after all a (precisely calculated) ‘10 minute holiday from the outside world’ (v15). Perhaps the customer is equally controlled by another type of macro-host in their everyday lives, and greater consideration should be given to the implications of this in terms of the construction of the hospitality experience. In this respect, one should note the sense of rootlessness that emerges from the poem, the author as a kind of disembodied spirit haunting the world who wanders into the fast food experience. The author is a ‘stranger’ (Wolff, 1950) and at the end of hospitality experience remains one, and perhaps more so owing to the depersonalising nature of the experience, for the nature of the exchange is not interested in conversion from a stranger to a friend. It is more basic, satisfying a human physiological need, after a fashion, but not enriching the individual. The abiding sense of control of the individual that permeates the poem may be seen as more broadly reflective of an increasingly control-oriented society seen through, for example, the ever-growing presence of street cameras, regulation over behaviours such as the introduction of no smoking in public places, and, more broadly in line with Ritzer’s (1996) thesis, the emphasis upon efficiency, calculability and predictability. Taking this a little further, the poem may be seen as a critique of the effects of commerce itself, i.e., a cornerstone of contemporary society. The poem reveals tensions in the hospitality experience not just with regard to control, but also the relationship of the individual with the product consumption. To this extent, earlier attempts at defining hospitality involving concepts of philanthropic ‘exchange’, ‘mutuality’, the transmission of ‘feelings of altruism and beneficence’ (Lashley, 2000, p. 4) may be criticised for their idealistic nature. The day-to-day reality is more prosaic and infinitely more mundane. The poem describes the process of control by the hospitality provider and the loss of control by the hospitality consumer. Would you like fries with that? highlights the experience of McDonaldisation (Ritzer, 1996) illustrating themes of standardisation, the onus of responsibility on the customer, the regularity of this hospitality event, the nature of the fast-food restaurant as a human pit stop. The poem also prompts reflection upon how the fast-food restaurant worker is part of a neo-military chain of command of the macro-host in which the customer becomes absorbed as a kind of foot soldier queuing up to receive daily rations. In doing so, the poem vividly represents the experiential reality of certain
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types of management control methods. This leads the reader to reflect further on the nature of management control. Depicting feelings about the experience of control, directly personal in the poem, must surely encourage a greater concern with the effects of management control methods. In a context where, for example, one sees a rapid increase in demand for serviced apartments apparently in response to the reality of hotel control methods (Wood, 1994; Lynch, Johns, & Cunnell, 2003), such considerations are very important. The construction of hospitality is thus founded upon tensions inherent in the management methods employed. The analysis has focused upon the language employed to describe the hospitality experience. In a poem that typically may go through several iterations before reaching the final version, the precise selection of words to convey meaning, feeling and nuance is very significant. The analysis has illustrated the importance of language not only in the description but also in the hospitality management process described and the way that language is employed between employee and customer, and the overt and covert purposes it supports. Both poems focus the reader upon the importance of discourse neglected in Goffman’s (1959) dramaturgical account. The sociolinguistic approach provides important additions to the analytical armoury of the hospitality researcher. The concepts of negative and positive politeness add depth to our understanding of provider–customer discourse and may be helpful in broader analyses of the hospitality exchange. The focus upon the extreme use of imperatives in the poem and their contribution to the depersonalisation of the customer through the implementation of broader ‘efficient’ management control methods is noteworthy. The issue of fake solidarity is raised through study of Would you like fries with that? Such a manipulative approach illustrates a fundamentally disrespectful relationship to customers inherent in the management control methods of the fast-food restaurant. Drawing attention to the implications of types of discourse associated with particular types of management control is important. The restricted nature of the language employed and the enforced ‘first name intimacy’ seems much closer to those tourism organisations Cohen (1986) describes it as more peripheral to the tourism experience than the centrality of the hospitality experience described. Further investigation of such ‘hospitality talk’ is certainly required. The service discourse narrated in the poem seems to share with tourism language (Cohen, 1986) characteristics such as wellpracticed routines, small in number, essentially similar and pseudo-friendliness, but here such friendliness, as perhaps in the reality of the situations Cohen considered, is essentially impolite and arguably unfriendly. In the fast-food context described, the consumer is, at best, on an equal situational status with the provider and this contrasts with Cohen’s (1986) description of the high situational status allocated to the tourist. While the macro-universe might ascribe such high situational status, the reality of the micro-universe is otherwise. The extent to which this reflects simply the particular type of (fast-food) service situation is unclear. The poem leads us to question, how we as academics can really know hospitality. The poem provides one means of exploring the metaphysical self and the individual response to the experience of ‘objective’ hospitality. While exploration of emotional and aesthetic labour are popular (Hochschild, 1983; Nickson, Warhurst, Witz, & Cullen, 2001), the focus upon the employee means there is a gap in the analysis in terms of what such labour actually means from a consumer perspective. Instead of hiding behind traditional scientific modes of inquiry where the self is denied, the qualitative hospitality researcher needs to engage with their own subjective self and that of others. For example, responding to the
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criticisms of Riley and Love (1999), the development of qualitative research in hospitality and tourism requires a willingness to avoid the pitfalls of the past as well as to challenge some of our basic assumptions about knowledge and its understanding. Analysis of poems about hospitality is one such means. McCabe may be considered as an intelligent, reflective consumer, not necessarily typical of the fast-food restaurant customer profile — we do not know. However, he is someone who is able to explore aspects of his unconsciousness through the medium of a poem. At the same time, the poem itself is also a performance, a narrative construction, both for the author and possibly for an unknown audience. The poem acts as a way of articulating an experience that must in some way have been deeply felt and memorable. The poem acts like a photograph, as a way of remembering and a kind of souvenir. It is also a tool for the bottling of emotions, for the poem is as much to do with surfacing the feel of the hospitality experience as a straightforward description of an event. It is precisely this duality that makes the poem such an interesting and informative tool for the social scientist, although one that is rarely used. At a further level, by capturing and preserving the experience of hospitality in poetic form, the author assumes a form of control over the event. Therefore, the poem itself may be seen as a means of the individual countering the controlled experience, a tool for self-empowerment. It is akin to a song, a musical composition, moving images, interview notes, observational notes or sociological impressions, i.e., a way of capturing the world with its particular strengths as well as weaknesses as a social scientific instrument. The reality is that as researchers, we are encouraged to be fairly unimaginative in the way we capture perceptions of ‘reality’. In the specific context, a poem encourages reflection on the emotions that were experienced. As an aide to memory, both purely narrative memory as well as sentient memory, it is immensely powerful. We point to a further advantage in studying hospitality through the poem. Slattery (1983, p. 9) once dismissed the relevance of studying literature as part of a hospitality-management curriculum: ‘no one makes serious claims that students of hospitality management should study humanities because the industry is concerned with people’. In the meantime, the study of hospitality has progressed to such a stage that there is recognition of the need to encourage the development of philosophical practitioners, a kind of latter-day renaissance hospitality student who needs to be able to philosophise as much as slavishly implement traditional theories of management control approaches (Tribe, 2002). Thus, the inclusion of the study of literature on hospitality, whether in its own right or as a supplement to existing management courses, is an entirely logical development. After all, what could be more important than reflecting on what hospitality feels like from a consumer viewpoint? In a broader sense, it represents one example of the development of hospitality as an academic subject and that the study of hospitality has to engage in the presentation and representation of hospitality in all its forms if it is ever to be properly understood. Moreover, it indicates that the study of hospitality is more broadly concerned with socio-cultural explorations.
Conclusions We started off by exploring the ‘Hospitality Paradox’ (Lashley, 2000; Lashley & Morrison, 2003) in the context of the commercial-hospitality exchange. We ascertained that although purporting to be a philanthropic enterprise, it is in actual terms dominated by controlling
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mechanisms to entice customers into the exchange. We also examined the validity of examining hospitality experiences in literary texts within the qualitative/quantitative research methodology debate in the field. Since these experiences rely on human face-toface interactions where language becomes an important means of communication, the object of study was anchored within a sociolinguistic perspective. We established social identities in hospitality, which were constructed through intangible and subjective exchanges of beliefs and expectations, and these were central to the establishment of power relations. The macro-/micro-host ⬎ customer control chain was presented and we saw how it became central to the thematic division of Would you like fries with that? Part I dominated by the macro-host and the macro-universe in the first quartet; Part II represented by the rest of the poem and dominated by the subjective involvement of the customer in the actual restaurant experience. We highlighted the use of either third or first person narration to achieve either social distance and impersonality or subjective, but personal involvement of the character/author in the poem. This was reinforced by the use of imperatives and other directives as well as informal forms of address, in an effort to enforce positive solidarity oriented politeness (Holmes, 1992; Holmes & Stubbe, 2003) in a situation dominated by control. The macrohost is subjectively manipulating the customer to partake in this experience. We also saw how definite noun phrases were used to link the discourse anaphorically to the macro-universe. This device was interpreted as presenting the fact that the customer knows the state of affairs, but is happy to be manipulated for the promise of A 10 minute holiday from the outside world (v15).
Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank Stewart Conn, city of Edinburgh Makar (Poet Laureate), for all his help, encouragement and inspiration at the onset of this project.
References Cohen, E. (1986). Language and tourism. Annals of Tourism Research, 13, 533–563. Dann, G. (1996). The language of tourism: A sociolinguistic perspective. Oxon UK: CAB International. Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. Middlesex: Penguin. Hochschild, A. R. (1983). The managed heart: Commercialisation of human Feeling. London: University of California Press. Holmes, J. (1992). An introduction to sociolinguistics. Pearson Education Limited London: Longman. Holmes, J., & Stubbe, M. (2003). Power and politeness in the workplace. A sociolinguistic analysis of talk at work. London: Longman. Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison, (Eds). In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates (pp. 1–17). Oxford: ButterworthHeinemann. Lashley, C., & Morrison, A. (Eds) (2000). In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann.
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Lashley, C., & Morrison, A. (2003). Befriending the stranger. The Hospitality Review. 5 (4), pp. 31–36. Leech, G. N., & Short, M. H. (1981). Style in fiction. A linguistic introduction to English fictional prose. London: Longman. Locher, M. A. (2004). Power and politeness in action. Disagreements in oral communication. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Lynch, P. A. (2005). Sociological impressionism in a hospitality context. Annals of Tourism Research 32 (3), 527–548. Lynch, P. A., Johns, N., & Cunnell, D. (2003). Best practice in self-catering accommodation in Scotland: Analysis and results. Association of Scotland’s Self-Caterers, Highlands and Islands Enterprise, Scottish Enterprise, and VisitScotland. McCabe, E. (2002). The forth stanza. Edinburgh: The Summerhall Press. Nickson, D., Warhurst, C., Witz, A., & Cullen, A. M. (2001). The importance of being aesthetic: work, employment and service organization. In: A. Sturdy, I. Grugulis, & H. Wilmott (Eds). Customer service: Empowerment and entrapment. Palgrave: Basingstoke. Noy, C. (2005). Emotional tourist(?): An ethnography of an alienated tourist experience, Proceedings of embodying tourism research : Advancing critical approaches, international conference on critical tourism studies, Croatia (pp. 140–148). O´Barr, J. F. (1984). Studying power in literary texts. In: Language and power. C. Kramarae, M. Schulz, & W. M. O´Barr (Eds), London: Sage Publications. Paterson, D. (2004). Rhyme and reason. The Guardian Review (6 November), pp. 34–35. Riley, R. W., & Love, L.L. (1999). The state of qualitative tourism research. Annals of Tourism Research, 27(1), 164–187. Ritzer, G. (1996). The McDonaldization of society, London: Pine Forge Press. Robinson, M., & Lynch, P.A. (2005). Hospitality through poetry: Control, fake solidarity and breakdown. Proceedings of 13th annual council for hospitality management education hospitality research conference, University of Bournemouth. Slattery, P. (1983). Social scientific methodology and hospitality management. International Journal of Hospitality Management, 2 (1), 9–14. Tribe, J. (2002). The philosophical practitioner. Annals of Tourism Research, 29 (2), 338–357. Wolff, K. H. (1950). The sociology of George Simmel. London: The Free Press. Wood, R. C. (1994). Hotel culture and social control. Annals of Tourism Research 21 (1), 65–80.
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Opening Pandora’s Box: Aesthetic Labour and Hospitality Dennis Nickson and Chris Warhurst
Introduction From Banff to Bath in the UK, from the Irish Times to the Italian Il Corriere della Sera across Europe, ‘aesthetic labour’ caught the popular imagination when a short research monograph was released in 1999 (see Warhurst, Nickson, Witz, & Cullen, 2000). Aesthetic labour, in different ‘populist’ appellations, continues to feature in the press, has become incorporated into academic textbooks and is filtering into policy debates about vocational education and training and careers guidance in the UK and abroad. The Industrial Society (now the Work Foundation) published a report on it (Warhurst, & Nickson, 2001) and the concept continues to feature in the Work Foundation’s commentaries on the future of work and employment, and the development of successful cities (Westwood & Nathan, 2003). This interest cannot be disentangled from the increased importance to these cities of service jobs. Service jobs now account for around three quarters of all jobs in the UK, with retail and hospitality alone providing nearly 5 million jobs (Hospitality Training Foundation, 2003; Working Futures, 2004). Organizations in the hospitality industry vary enormously, ranging from luxury hotels providing extravagant, full 24 hours service to the more homely comforts of bed and breakfast establishments; from fast food restaurants to Michelin-starred restaurants. In turn, the jobs provided by these organizations demand a variety of skills and attributes from those employees interacting with customers. Increasingly, though, there is an appreciation that employees in these jobs not only provide desired levels of service in terms of responding to customers in a friendly and sociable manner but can also be part of the branding of service companies by becoming, in the words of Zeithaml and Bitner, (2003, p.318), ‘walking billboards’. In this respect, and drawing on the work of Olins (1991), Witz, Warhurst, and Nickson (2003, p.44) point out that, for many companies, employees have become part of this branding exercise, with Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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‘aesthetic labourers … the animate component of the material culture that makes up the corporate landscape’. Indeed, the genesis of aesthetic labour as a concept lays in our awareness in the early 1990s of newspaper job advertisements that stipulated the attractiveness of applicants as recruitment and selection criteria in the hospitality industry. The term ‘aesthetic labour’ is analytically complex (see the discussion in Witz et al., 2003) and the full working definition is provided in the next section. Here, it is enough to note that it refers to the hiring of people with certain capacities and attributes that favourably appeal to customers and which are then developed through training and/or monitoring. It has become translated in the popular imagination as those people who are employed on the basis of ‘looking good’ and/or ‘sounding right’. In its tabloidized form, along with sexism, racism and ageism, ‘lookism’ is now offered as one of the key issues of the contemporary workplace (Oaff, 2003).
Aesthetic Labour Revealed The initial research monograph was based on an exploratory study over 1997–1998. Stimulated by a series of newspaper job advertisements, the purpose of the study was to identify if aesthetic labour was an emerging feature of contemporary work and employment and, if so, how important a feature. The focus of the study was Glasgow’s expanding number of designer retailers, boutique hotels and style bars, cafes and restaurants. Some inclusion, though undeveloped, was also made of banks. The study had three research foci. First, it examined the personal physical capacities and attributes demanded by employers at the point of entry to employment. Second, it examined how these capacities and attributes were developed by employers through management, training and regulation. Finally, it explored how the capacities and attributes featured in the actual work of employees as they interacted with customers. The findings of this study are fully reported in Nickson, Warhust, Witz, and Cullen (2001). In short, we found that the need to look good and sound right did exist and was very important to employers. These employers believed that having staff that look good and/or sound right not only helped companies create a distinct image but also provided competitive advantage for these companies in the crowded retail and hospitality industries. The study revealed that companies in the service sector desired and developed employees who could become the physical embodiment of the image and ‘personality’ of those companies. As one respondent stated about her company’s recruitment and selection, they wanted: ‘… people that look the part … fit in with the whole concept of the hotel’ (quoted in Nickson et al., 2001, p.180). The focus of the exploratory study was what we termed a ‘style labour market’ but, in the course of the study, it became apparent that the success of companies drawing upon this style labour market was creating ‘demonstration effects’ for other, more prosaic, high street retailers and hospitality outlets. These companies too were beginning to think about using employees’ physical capacities and attributes to appeal to customers. As a result, and following research on the retail industry, Pettinger (2003, 2004) subsequently and usefully distinguished companies that required ‘aesthetic labour’ and those companies that required
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less developed ‘aestheticized labour’. It is now accepted that, in the work and employment of customer-facing staff, there is a demand upon employees to look good and sound right. The findings of the initial exploratory study not only stimulated extensive academic interest but also have become incorporated into policy debates and practitioner initiatives in the UK. For example, a Glasgow-based charitable organization concerned to help the longterm unemployed into work developed a pilot training programme premised on developing awareness of, and skills necessary for, aesthetic labour (see Nickson, Warhust, Cullen, & Watt, 2003). Such conceptual and practical developments not only extend understating of aesthetic labour, but also raise a number of significant and uncomfortable issues: rather like opening Pandora’s Box. In ancient Greek mythology, Zeus sent Pandora as a gift to Epimetheus. Pandora was beautiful and Epimetheus married her. However Pandora had been sent as a punishment. Her name meaning ‘all-gifted’, she had been given powers by each of the gods with the intention of ruining humankind. Pandora brought with her a box, which she opened and all the ills flew out, never able to be returned. Less dramatic, though still with far-reaching practical and conceptual consequences for the study of hospitality work and employment, are the issues raised in the recognition of the aesthetic demand upon labour. This chapter seeks to outline and explore these issues. The chapter first defines aesthetic labour and, drawing upon a recent employers’ survey, also demonstrates its importance to these employers. It then explores some of the key issues that emerge from the aesthetic demand upon labour, specifically issues of skill, skill formation and training and discrimination in the labour market. The chapter concludes by arguing that more expansive thinking and analysis is required on current developments in work and employment, particularly in relation to hospitality and the composition of ‘service’. Suggestions are made within these remarks about further issues, focusing on class and social status and the need for further research on the conceptual and empirical boundaries of aesthetic labour.
Locating Aesthetic Labour Looking good and sounding right has long been a feature of the workplace. The so-called ‘dress for success’ pop management genre has exhorted workers ‘to look the part’, particularly when trying to get a job or seeking to develop their careers (Bixler & Nix-Rice, 1997; Jeffes, 1998; Spillane, 2000). This literature is intended to help workers’ attempt to get in and get on in their jobs, whatever the industry. In hospitality, organizations too have been concerned with their workers’ labour of aesthetics both in the past and the present, as Miss Cranston Tea Rooms (Kinchin, 1998) and even McDonald’s (McDonald’s, n.d.) illustrate respectively. The mobilization of this labour is increasingly a corporate strategy, less ad hoc and more systematic, for some hospitality employers, featuring in their hiring and management of employees we believe. Aiming to portray a company image and create an appealing service encounter for the customers, employers in hospitality are increasingly drawing upon the corporeal skills of their workforce. Employees, for example, are hired because of the way they look and talk; once employed, staff are instructed how to stand whilst working, what to wear and how to wear it and even what to say to customers.
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There are clearly overlaps here between attitudes and appearance, with the body as the manifestation of feelings, acted or otherwise. Embodiment is continually evoked in the emotional labour literature. Hochschild’s (1983, p.7) core definition of emotional labour as ‘the management of feeling to create a publicly observable facial and bodily display,’ exemplifies this point. Indeed, facial and bodily displays are crucial elements of the performance of emotional labour as Hochschild exemplifies in her discussion of the ‘war of smiles’ (p. 127). The smile is the physical embodiment of certain real or affected feelings. One is the display of the other, an extension. The problem, as we argue in Witz et al. (2003), it that this embodiment is empirically and conceptually retired in subsequent research and debate. It is important that these conceptually and empirically ‘retired’ bodily expressions are foregrounded. As we have demonstrated (Nickson, Warhurst, & Dutton, 2004), employers in hospitality and other interactive service jobs are interested in the attitudes and appearance of employees. On a practical level, this strategy, featuring a ‘style of service’, is intended to have workers create competitive advantage for employers in often highly competitive markets either by simply positively appealing to the senses of customers — by having pleasing looking staff — or by embodying the prescribed corporate image — employees as ‘walking billboards’. To affect this possibility, employers need to regulate the sight and/or sound of their workers (most obviously). This regulation also has a conceptual dimension, for a double shift has occurred as services have displaced manufacturing. The first and most cited shift is a quantitative one: the increase in the number of jobs now provided by services. The second shift is qualitative and less appreciated: the nature of work with service jobs has changed. As with manufacturing, a production process still occurs in service jobs. However, unlike manufacturing, the service production process is: simultaneously produced and consumed; employees directly interact with consumers; employees are part of the product; and the ‘service encounter’ between employee and customer is intangible, continent, spontaneous and variable. Workers’ potential labour power and actual labour power can thus be very different from that intended during this encounter. One employer response is to strip out labour and replace it with technology — as self-service hotels such as Formule 1 exemplify; another is to draw customers into the labour process and require them to do some of the work. However, another response is to attempt to overcome this indeterminacy of labour by systematizing it. Through the managerial prerogative (however moderated) to recruit, select, direct, evaluate, discipline and reward labour, employers aim to control and organize the labour process to ensure efficacious labour that will yield surplus value. There are different strategies by which employers pursue this aim. With scientific management workers’ task knowledge is appropriated and regulated for organizations’ commercial benefit (Braverman, 1974); with emotional labour, workers’ feelings are appropriated and regulated for organizations’ commercial benefit (Hochschild, 1983); and now, with aesthetic labour, workers’ corporeality is similarly being appropriated and regulated for the same reason. Drawing on Bourdieu (1984), we suggest that aesthetic labour is the mobilization, development and commodification of embodied dispositions. As we outlined in Witz et al. (2003), these dispositions, in the form of embodied capacities and attributes, are to an extent possessed by workers at the point of entry to employment. However, and importantly, employers then mobilize, develop and commodify these
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dispositions through processes of recruitment, selection, training, monitoring, discipline and reward, reconfiguring them as ‘skills’ intended to produce a ‘style’ of service encounter that appeals to the senses of customers, most usually visually or aurally. In other words, distinct modes of worker embodiment are organizationally prescribed and produced for corporate benefit, with these workers becoming ‘aesthetic labourers’. While we may talk here of aesthetic labourers we also noted earlier how the style and aesthetic will vary between different types of organizations, creating both aesthetic labour and aestheticized labour, and in the next section we consider this point more explicitly by referring to our more recent research.
Extending the Evidence for Aesthetic Labour As noted above, a pilot study allowed the initial development of the concept of aesthetic labour. Our more recent work has sought to extend this earlier analysis by assessing the extent of aesthetic labour. Specifically, while the earlier research suggested that there were ‘hotspots’ of companies — designer retailers, boutique/lifestyle hotels and style bars, cafes and restaurants — that had developed aesthetic labour, creating what we have termed the ‘style labour market’, there was only limited evidence about the extent of aesthetic labour beyond this style niche. However this work did reveal a ‘demonstration effect’ amongst more prosaic retail and hospitality companies as they too sought aesthetic labour, although less developed as both corporate product and labour strategy. This distinction between an overt, style-driven labour market and a labour market where employers and employees demonstrate at least some awareness of the importance of aesthetic skills has, as we noted earlier, been explored by Pettinger (2003, 2004) in the retail sector. In her work she notes a distinction between mass/mid-market fashion retailers, which frequently have a literal corporate uniform that employees must wear and that clearly delineates them as employees, and high fashion retailers, where employees often ‘model’ current stock and consequently may be potentially indistinguishable from consumers. Pettinger describes this distinction as the difference between ‘uniform’ and ‘model’ companies, with the former employing aesthetized labour and the latter more overtly creating a style with the use of the aesthetic labour of their customer-facing employees. Recognizing the range of aesthetic labouring, a survey was conducted of Glasgow hospitality and retail organizations, regardless of market segment. The results of this survey are fully reported in Nickson et al. (2004). The survey found that regardless of whether organizations were overtly style-driven or not, workers’ aesthetic appeal was an important part of their branding and competitive strategies. Asked to assess the centrality of appearance to the success of the business and 53 per cent of the sample felt it was critical, 40 per cent felt it was important at least. Therefore, at least 93 per cent of respondents attached importance to the image of customer-facing staff. There was also extensive evidence of attempts to continue to mould employees’ in support of the corporate image through, for example, uniforms and dress codes. Eighty per cent of the organizations surveyed operated a uniform policy, primarily for the purposes of maintaining a corporate image. Furthermore, 90 per cent of the surveyed companies also operated a dress code for employees. Aspects of the dress code included rules for general tidiness (98 per cent),
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clothing style (74 per cent), the wearing of jewellery (66 per cent), employees’ make up and/or personal grooming (63 per cent) and employees’ hair-style and length (45 per cent). These findings also point to the type of skills that employers in the hospitality sector are increasingly seeking. Burns (1997) has noted how ‘soft’ skills are much more important than ‘hard’, technical skills in the provision of hospitality. Burns, in common with many other authors, conceives of ‘soft’ skills as being primarily concerned with attitudes: workers’ need to be ‘positive, joyful and even playful’ (p. 240), for example. Consequently, much of the discussion surrounding ‘soft’ skills concentrates on what is termed ‘emotional labour’ (Hochschild, 1983). The survey reported in Nickson et al. (2004) similarly found that employers’ are concerned with ‘soft’ skills. For example, on the question of what employers are looking for in customer-facing staff 65 per cent of employers suggested that the right personality was critical, with the remainder of respondents suggesting this aspect was important. Additionally, though, it was found that a major, yet under appreciated, aspect of ‘soft’ skills is aesthetic or self-presentation skills. Thirty-three per cent of the employers surveyed felt that the right appearance was critical and 57 per cent saw it as important, only 2 per cent of respondents felt it was not important. Conversely only 48 per cent of employers felt that technical skills were important in their customer-facing staff, with 40 per cent suggesting it was somewhat important and 16 per cent suggesting they were not important at all. These figures can also be compared to the results from the survey with regard to qualifications, with only one respondent seeing qualifications as critical, 19 per cent of employers felt it was important and 40 per cent suggested it was not important at all for selecting their customer-facing staff. Clearly, then, ‘soft’ skills encompassing both the attitude and appearance of employees are far more important to hospitality employers than qualifications or ‘hard’ skills. Indeed, further support for this proposition of the importance of ‘soft’ skills is also supplied by further research reported in Warhurst, Nickson, and Dutton (2004). This work reports both quantitative (a survey) and qualitative (focus groups) research that sought to consider the work and employment experiences of students employed as customer-facing staff in hospitality and retail. This research offered further evidence of the aesthetic labouring expected of employees. For example, mirroring the employers survey, 85 per cent of employees also thought that the image of customer-facing staff was important for business success. Almost 90 per cent stated that employers emphasized worker appearance during the selection process. Additionally, 86 per cent of the employee respondents noted how employers referred to the requirement of a dress code. An interesting finding from the focus groups was the manner in which participants often talked of the distinction noted earlier between aestheticized labour and aestheticized labour. ‘I wouldn’t personally say there wasn’t anyone in there who wasn’t in some way pretty or good looking’, recalled a participant who had worked in a style bar. Comparing this bar to her other work experience in a more prosaic chain of British pubs she further went on ‘if you go in there it’s not ugly people at all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a very different style and not very well groomed’ (quoted in Warhurst et al., 2004, pp.11–12). Interestingly, and mirroring the earlier findings reported in Nickson et al. (2001), a number of the student employees in the focus groups were largely supportive of prescriptions on their appearance and dress in support of the corporate image, even though such prescriptions could impact negatively
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on employees or even potential employees (a point explored further below in considering the potentially discriminatory aspects of aesthetic labour). In sum, beyond the initial work on aesthetic labour there have been several attempts by a number of researchers, including us, to further extend the concept. What this subsequent analysis points to is the importance of the labour of aesthetics in a range of hospitality companies, both those seeking to portray an overtly stylish image and equally those outside the style labour market. To date, overt awareness of this demand and utilization, and appreciation of its importance has been largely missing from the study of hospitality work and employment. Its recognition, however, raises a number of key issues with regard to the changing nature of skills, skill formation and training and employment discrimination.
Key Issues Arising from Aesthetic Labour The above discussion outlines the concept, existence and importance of aesthetic and aestheticized labour. Recognizing this labour throws up some discomforting issues for the study of hospitality work and employment and to which this chapter now turns its attention. A Gentrification of Skill Demand In recognizing the labour of aesthetics and its importance to employers, academics are playing catch up. Employers, even if not a corporate strategy of aesthetic labour, want presentable employees with aesthetic appeal. In interactive service work, such as that of retail and hospitality, there is a clear pattern of employers’ skill demands. Jackson, Goldthrope, and Mills (2002) point out in their analysis of sales and personal services’ job advertisements that the skills stated as necessary by employers are ‘social skills’ and ‘personal characteristics’. Likewise, a recent examination of nearly 100 human resource professionals in the USA responsible for hiring entry-level hospitality industry employees revealed that the top two criteria were: ‘pride in appearance’ and ‘good attitude’ (Martin & Grove, 2002). In a survey conducted by the UK Hospitality Training Foundation (2000), the top skills regarded as important now and in the foreseeable future by the surveyed employers again centred on attitudes and appearance, as Table 12.1 illustrates.1 This list is slightly puzzling. None of the ‘skills’ being demanded by employers would have been regarded as skills in the past when being ‘skilled’ was associated with successful completion of an apprenticeship involving formalized training that mobilized physical dexterity and technical ‘know how’ (Keep & Payne, 2004). However, these days, whatever employers say is a skill, seems to be regarded as a skill — even the capacity to be drugfree, honest and punctual at work — even if such skills are little more than ‘acquired habits’ (Lafer, 2004). As a consequence, Grugulis, Warhurst, and Keep (2004, p.6) note that what constitutes a skill has evolved over time, with ‘the growing tendency to label what in earlier times would have been seen by most as personal characteristics, attitudes,
1
It should also be noted that there were sub-sectorial differences. For example, for hotels personal presentation/appearance was ranked 4th, for pubs and bars 3rd and for the restaurant sector it was 1st.
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Table 12.1: Relative importance of particular skills.
Willingness to learn Being flexible/adaptive Personal presentation/appearance Ability to follow Instructions
% Very important
Now index
Future index
87 85 85
1 2 3
1 2 3
84
4
4
character traits, or predispositions as skills’. In the search for ‘skilled workers’ within this context, employers are really seeking to employ the ‘right kind’ of person, someone able to manage their emotions (Bolton, 2004) and, we would argue, their corporeality. Significantly, this strategy, we would further argue, results in a gentrification of skill demand by these employers. In other words, the skills demanded are those associated with being middle class. Although in its definition, aesthetic labour is mobilized, developed and commodified by employers so that it can, to some extent, be developed through training and management, it also includes recognition that employers require a supply of particular embodied capacities and attributes at the point of entry. As such, with regard to appearance, we would argue that aesthetic labour requires possession — whether real or contrived — of particular cultural capital and its associated embodied dispositions (Bourdieu, 1984). This capital is usually associated with the middle class. As we noted in Nickson et al. (2003) many of the particular ‘skills’ in personal presentation, self-confidence, grooming, deportment and accent that Glaswegian service sector employers are seeking are liable to be linked to the parental social class and educational background of job applicants. As such, the style labour market tends to draw on young workers from Glasgow’s middle class suburbs and which also partly accounts for the attractiveness to employers of students. By virtue of their cultural capital, these workers are perceived to be more appealing to consumers and, through their work — as Pettinger notes, create a point of reference for those customers. For example, as reported in Nickson et al. (2001), Hotel Elba’s typical customer-facing worker was in his or her twenties, a graduate and well travelled. The company deliberately placed job advertisements in the Sunday Times rather than the local evening newspaper in order to recruit the sons and daughters of the middle class. Aesthetic labour thus tends to be sourced from the middle rather than working class. This gentrification is most stark in the demand by employers that employees use particular words because these words appeal more to customers’ aural senses. In our early research on aesthetic labour, designer retail employees told us that they were exhorted by their managers to use some words rather than others with customers because these particular words appealed more to those customers: the superior-sounding ‘exquisite’ rather than the more prosaic ‘lovely’ for example when these employees were called upon to comment on clothes being tried on by customers. In Bragg’s (2003) biography of the English language, he outlines the way that ‘class is buried in language’, with words of particular origin having ‘a touch more cultural clout’, denoting and enforcing hierarchy. One example
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is the way that French words, drawn from Latin, came to be associated with the middle and ruling class after the Norman conquest of England. In this respect, returning to the retail example, ‘exquisite’ has Latin origins and ‘lovely’ is Old English. We have already noted that employers want appropriate appearance and attitudes from their employees in interactive services. The point we are making here about middle class appearance can also be made for attitudes and is raised, though much overlooked, by Hochschild (1983) in her discussion of emotional labour. New recruits to the airlines in her study, she writes, ‘are screened for a certain type of out-going middle class sociability’ (p. 97). Thus, as product and producer are conflated in interactive services, so the social background of employees becomes an issue and becomes important in creating employability and the capacity to do work (see also Ainley, 1994; Crang & Martin, 1991) so that having or contriving to have ‘middle-classness’ becomes key in both getting and doing these jobs. Training to ‘Look the Part’ The emergence of these new skills raises a number of issues about training: first, where aesthetic skills are formed; second if, and if so how, such skills may be accredited and trained. All organizations train their staff. Most of this training is centred on that mandated, and for all employees: health and safety for example. Such training is a feature of the hospitality industry. Beyond that which is mandatory, other than for management and professional staff, training is relatively poor, at least in the UK. Training for part-time workers, who feature heavily in the hospitality workforce, is particularly weak. Furthermore, along with the retail industry, UK hospitality has the lowest promotion and completion rates for Modern Apprenticeships (Fuller & Unwin, 2001). With the decline of manufacturing and the rise in service jobs, and the demise of training featuring physical dexterity and technical ‘know how’, where it does occur the training emphasis has also shifted. Training is provided in customer service skills, instructing employees in body language, verbal interaction with customers (what to say and how to say it) and dress codes and uniform standards. At Hotel Elba, new recruits — male and female — underwent a 10-day training programme including personnel grooming and deportment. Under the guidance of a hired consultancy firm, the new recruits were also required to walk around Glasgow city centre taking photographs of people and objects that they regarded as being manifestations and representative of the 13 key words that ‘summed up the type of people we wanted working at [Elba],’ the personnel manager explained — words such as ‘stylish’, ‘successful’ and ‘confident’. This training was intended to inculcate workers with the image of the company, making employees embodied representations of that image, demonstrating ‘… what we want you [the employee] to actually look like … you have to understand what “successful” looks like … what “confident” looks like’ (quoted in Nickson et al., 2001, pp.181, 184). Such training is useful but builds upon the capacities and attributes that employees bring to work. Organizations prefer to recruit staff with the existing, desired attitudes and appearance. This preference is cheap; but it is also easier in the sense that although personality is now being labeled by employers as a skill so that it ought to be trainable, there is tacit recognition that this ‘skill’ is, at least in part, inherent, and so might be difficult to
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train. The task for the organization therefore is to filter in, through the processes of recruitment and selection, workers who already possess to an acceptable level the desired aesthetic capacities and attributes rather than filter out those who do not have them and cannot attain them to the required level through training. This preference also signals that employers expect ‘skill’ formation to occur outwith and even prior to employment, seemingly in other institutions such as the family or school (and increasingly university and college). Having the right dispositions, as a feature of particular cultural capital once again becomes salient; and once again the middle classes are the preferred labour source, as we have noted above in the example of Hotel Elba and as one manager of a fashion retail store explained to Crang and Martin (1991, p.106): ‘the residential origin of his employees [was] an important consideration: none came from the large council estates in … the city as they were not the “right kind of people” he was looking for. They lacked the “cultural capital”’. In suggesting that skill formation occurs as a feature of socialized acquired habits, two other issues are raised: whether any attempt to integrate aesthetic skills development into vocational education and training provision is feasible and whether aiming for a system of skills accreditation is desirable. In that sense, there is a need for very real debate about whether such training is accreditable. Aesthetic skills, as with other ‘soft’ skills, are difficult to quantify. How is ‘looking good’ or ‘sounding right’ to be measured and assessed for example? Equally, would employers necessarily pay much attention to a qualification in self-presentation anyway? There is sufficient evidence already that soft skills attract no wage premium even if they are desired by employers (Felstead, Gallie, & Green, 2004) – employers who also claim such skills to be in shortage — and that potential employees are reluctant to participate in courses intended to develop these skills at schools and colleges for this reason (Fernández & Hayward, 2004). This point may be particularly true for employers in the more overt style labour market, where their judgments may well be about whether any potential individual employee fits into the image that they are aiming to create. In this instance any qualification in ‘aesthetic skills’ may not be helpful for individuals seeking work, if they do not have the right style for the employer. In other words, it is not what potential employees have but are. A twist on the ‘skills mismatch’ may then be created in which, for employers, ‘human capital’, as indicated by qualifications, is no substitute for cultural capital as manifest in deeply embodied dispositions. One consequence is that the middle class are colonizing working class jobs — as customer-facing hospitality jobs traditionally tend to be. This colonization creates a problem for policy-makers as these are the jobs that are expanding most while yet there are many pockets of high residual unemployment in working class areas of regenerating cities, as Glasgow exemplifies. This problem throws into sharp relief the issue of whether aesthetic skills training is ethical. At first view training that is concerned with potentially prescribing the way in which an individual presents himself or herself, both visually and also aurally, means that individuals have to subvert their own identity and style for the sake of employability. This social engineering can be concerning. However, these concerns can and should be rejected. It should not be forgotten that the ‘dress for success’ literature offers much the same advice about the need for workers to manipulate their image to enhance their employability and career chances. If such advice is deemed reasonable and is seemingly efficacious for professional workers, it would be churlish, if not irresponsible, to deny other workers
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the same opportunities, especially if to do otherwise would be to deny them access to an appropriate and expanding jobs market. Lindsay and McQuaid (2004) advocate equipping the long-term unemployed with appropriate skills in order that they can access growth sector jobs, such as those in hospitality. Training to improve aesthetic skills, generally appearance but encompassing visual and aural appeal, is not about advocating ‘an Eliza Doolittle syndrome’ (Warhurst & Nickson, 2001); that is the complete re-invention of an individual. Rather it is an appeal for equity and pragmatism. Twenty thousand people are unemployed in Glasgow but there exists 12,900 job vacancies in hotels and catering (Futureskills Scotland, 2006). Our contention is that a proportion of these jobs are likely to remain unfilled unless long-term unemployed people are equipped with aesthetic skills. Some jobs, such as hospitality, clearly demand employees to affect the appropriate role-required bodily dispositions, adopting ‘masks for tasks’ (Thompson & McHugh, 2002) or simply ‘surface acting’ (Hochschild, 1983), and the unemployed should be aware of this need. As one unemployed worker reflected after attending a pilot training course for hospitality in Glasgow that focused on aesthetic skills: I realize that personal appearance is important, I didn’t bother before but now at work I do. I mean I still wear my biker jacket and that but not while at work. I need to look right and my voice is important. I think I have developed an awareness of these things in myself and that they are important in work. (Quoted in Nickson et al., 2003, p.199) What needs to be made available is awareness training but not necessarily training with accreditation. Politicians and CEOs do not receive vocational qualifications as outcomes of their ‘make-overs’. To insist then that the unemployed must is inconsistent, especially as employers are unwilling to pay premiums to workers who have accreditation from training in other soft skills. The Emergence of ‘Lookism’ All recruitment and selection is a discriminatory process and is intentionally so, but some criteria upon which this discrimination is based is deemed lawful and others not. For example, discrimination based upon qualifications possessed by an applicant is acceptable, while that based upon sex or race and more recently age is legislated against. Discrimination based on looks is a grey area in the UK. In the survey of retail and hospitality jobs in Glasgow reported in Nickson et al. (2004), we noted that employers signal the type of labour required by using terms such as ‘smart young person’ in jobs advertisements or require the enclosure of a photograph with applications. It is noteworthy that there was a noticeable difference between the employers and employees responses on the use of photographs as part of recruitment and selection. Only 2.7 per cent of the employers stated that they requested a photograph from job applicants. This low figure may well reflect recognition by employers of the advice from the UK Employment Service to desist from using photographs due to their potentially discriminatory nature. However, 23 per cent of employees in their survey said that they have been asked to provide a photograph when applying for jobs.
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Evidence suggests that designer retailers, boutique hotels and style bars, cafés and restaurants, are drawing upon particular segments of the labour market, most notably younger people from middle class suburban areas, especially students who have the cultural capital required to work in these organizations. In Glasgow, commuters from the middle class suburbs now fill 50 per cent of jobs in this services-dominated city.2 Younger people from those areas of Glasgow with the highest unemployment, the working class inner city areas, and who might have been expected to be absorbed into the service sector as manufacturing declined in the city, are seemingly being excluded. The consequence is a high percentage of inner city long-term unemployment (Nickson et al., 2003). However, it is not just employers who are discriminating. Knowing that employers are trying to project a defined company image and that employees are expected to be the embodiment of that image, it is not surprising that some potential workers self-discriminate, de-selecting themselves for these jobs, believing that they do not or cannot offer the required embodied dispositions. Glasgow University-based Training and Employment Research Unit(TERU) research on the perceptions of unemployed people in Glasgow towards growth sector jobs — that is, jobs in hospitality, retail and call centres highlighted ‘Some concerns … about employer prejudice towards the unemployed and a fear that they would be unable to secure a call centre position if they did not have a “posh accent”.’ As the report concludes ‘It would appear that a sizeable proportion of the unemployed do not believe that they have the appropriate skills and characteristics to secure employment in growth sector industries’ (TERU, 1999, p.22). Oaff (2003) reviewing the range of discriminatory practices in the contemporary workplace notes that ‘lookism’, along with sexism, racism and ageism, is now offered as a key issue: ‘If your gender and your race haven’t kept you off the short list, your physical appearance still might’ (p. 7). The issue of lookism is complex. The importance placed on visually pleasing service can give rise to hiring policies that skirt dangerously along the boundaries of employment discrimination law. For example, a student who worked in a café-bar in Edinburgh discovered she was hired because of the photograph that she had sent with her application. Once employed she noticed that the manager wanted a distinct look — blond hair, blue eyes — and applicants who did not fit this criterion would be unsuccessful (Burkeman, 2000). Although the subjectivity of determining what constitutes sensory appeal is a black box, studies do raise questions about hiring practices. Subconsciously the unattractiveness of someone may affect the recruitment of that person if looks are considered important for the job. For example, the overall appearance — being well groomed and presentable — is important in hiring salespeople (Cohen, 1996). However, for some, too much emphasis is now placed upon the appearance of individuals, and especially their attractiveness or lack thereof. Within the hospitality sector, an apotheosis has perhaps been reached with Hooters and the company’s attempts to create the ‘Florida Beach Girl’ look (Golding, 1998). We will consider the blurring of aesthetic and sexualized labour in our concluding remarks. Here it is enough to note that the marketing and branding strategy followed by Hooters has survived a challenge in the American courts on the basis that the company brand is ‘female sex appeal’ (Prewitt,
2
Over 80 per cent of jobs in the city are now in services.
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2003). Organizations may therefore prescribe the appearance of employees’ if such regulations serve the purposes of branding and marketing of the organization, are in the business interests of the company and non-discriminatory. If companies can prove these points, they do have a legal right to regulate worker image and appearance. Within the UK and USA lookism, per se, is not illegal and decisions made on the basis of an employee’s appearance can only be challenged if these decisions are shown to have a discriminatory bias within existing law, thus based on aspects such as race, sex or disability (and see Hay & Middleman, 2003). Australia, however, has taken a more direct approach and created legislation to address lookism. There, the Equal Opportunities Commission deals with cases involving people who have been refused employment or experience discrimination at work because of the way they look. In Southern Australia, under the Victorian Equal Opportunity Act 1995, it is now unlawful to treat someone unfairly or discriminate against them because of their physical appearance. The Act specifically refers to discrimination on the basis of physical features and seeks to prevent employers from treating people less favourably because of these characteristics. This Act defines physical features as a person’s height, weight, size and shape and bodily characteristics such as scars, skin conditions and birthmarks (EOC, 2003; see also Warhurst, Nickson, & Dutton, 2003 for further discussion of this issue). As yet, however, there is little assessment of the impact of this legislation.
Conclusion This chapter has outlined the importance and extent of aesthetic labour within the hospitality industry. A new concept, aesthetic labour is defined as the employment of people with certain capacities and attributes that favourably appeal to the senses of customers and which are then mobilized and developed through training and/or regulation by these companies. The purpose is to create competitive advantage for these companies, which can include the embodied representation of those companies’ prescribed image. In essence it is the commercialization of workers’ corporeality, to rework Hochschild’s book sub-title. Popularly, it has been associated with employment on the basis of ‘looking good’ and/or ‘sounding right’; in tabloidese, it is labelled ‘lookism’. It is not new but it is now being more systematically offered as a company strategy. As such, there is a need for it to be recognized and explored by academics, not just focusing on the hospitality industry but a range of interactive services. One outcome is appreciation of the fact that employers demand not just the right attitudes of their staff but also the right appearance. There are clearly practical and conceptual boundary issues between emotional and aesthetic labour. However, reading Hochschild (1983), it is not just emotional and aesthetic labour, and their boundary that have to be analysed in the performance of service: a triangle exists, for there is also, we believe, another boundary issue between aesthetic and sexualized labour. At what point, for example does an organizationally prescribed worker appeal to customers’ senses become organizationally prescribed sex appeal targeting these customers? The same boundary issue emerges in discussion of emotional labour. Hochschild, for example, notes that there are varying forms or ‘ideal types’ of middle class sociability within emotional
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labour: ‘sophisticated’, ‘neighbourly’ and ‘sexy’ and which represent different ‘company personalities’ targeting different ‘market segments’ (p. 97). Many accounts of interactive service work, such as those of Adkins (1995) Filby (1992) and Tyler and Abbott (1998), also recognize organizationally situated sexuality as these organizations tacitly sanction and even subscribe to sexuality as part of the performance enacted by their employees. Usually, this involves the sexualization of young women (see Hall, 1993). Such practice has reached its apotheosis with Hooters, the American restaurant chain, which creates a sexualized environment as an explicit corporate strategy. The company unashamedly recognizes that ‘sex sells’ and ‘Hooters Girls’, or more prosaically restaurant waitresses, are expected to embody the ‘Florida Beach Girl’ look that the company wishes to portray through its staff. This boundary shift — from aesthetic to sexualized labour occurs with another shift from sanctioned and subscribed to strategic employee sexuality, and requires conceptual analysis. It would develop an emergent empirical research theme on aesthetic labour (see Spiess & Waring, 2005). Given that this issue also features in emotional labour, it is likely, we suggest, that a triangle of labouring constitutes the performative element of the service encounter between employee and customer: emotional, aesthetic and sexual. These aspects can be analysed separately but much understanding would be gained from analysing their intersection and cumulative effect. There is another issue that emerges from analysis of aesthetic labour, as indeed within emotional labour as we have pointed out, and that is the saliency of class. In demanding appropriate attitudes and appearance from customer-facing workers, employers are keen to solicit middle-classness. Although this solicitation is sometimes tacit, it is often explicit, as the recruitment strategy of Hotel Elba exemplifies. It is surprising that so little discussion has emerged about class and service recently. The first and even second wave of debate about economic shifts from manufacturing to services often raised the issue of class as a key concern, as Mills (1951) and Bell (1973) illustrate respectively. When class, or rather status, is suggested in current discussion of interactive service work, there is a conventional academic view that service equates to servility and that workers in these jobs are often little more than ‘serfs’, to use Ehrenreich’s (2001) description. Rothman (1998, p.169) is typical in suggesting that ‘service work of all kinds has historically been low-status work, largely because of the connotations of servitude and inferiority. It has consequently been the province of people occupying second class citizenship.’ This point about servility is particularly prevalent for hospitality. The work of Gabriel (1988) and Wood (1993) suggests that hotel and catering work is seen as low status. As a result, in companies such as McDonald’s, Leidner (1991, p.171) notes how workers ‘take on the role of interactive inferior, adjusting themselves to the styles and apparent preferences to their customers’. Undoubtedly many jobs in hospitality are low status. But the conventional extrapolation from job to class with customer-facing services is too blunt and blinkered. Employer demand for middle-classness of workers — whether real or affected — suggests that the status of some of these jobs may now have or may now be changing. Recognizing this employers demand suggests that attention should again return to the issue of class at work, recognizing the heterogeneity and complexity now of jobs within hospitality and other interactive services. Exploration should focus on the linkages between occupational change, labour markets, labour processes and social divisions.
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It seems that in analysing the future of jobs, and focusing on those most expanding, it is familiar issues that are raised, even if these issues have been overlooked recently. When the ills flew forth, hope alone remained in Pandora’s Box. We would hope that by focusing on aesthetic labour and hospitality jobs we have not only highlighted a type of labour being demanded and utilized by employers but so far neglected analytically; we hope that we have signalled and demonstrated the need for more expansive thinking about current developments in work and employment in the service economy and its practical, conceptual and policy implications.
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Chapter 13
Ways of Knowing Hospitality Conrad Lashley, Paul Lynch and Alison Morrison
Introduction The foregoing chapters have presented a rich cornucopia of ways of viewing, understanding, and knowing hospitality, across multiple disciplines, interpretations, times, forms, purposes, sites, and social and cultural contexts. What this chapter does is to identify, capture and consolidate some of the emerging robust themes, surfaced through the explicit adoption of liberal, social sciences and arts, and critical perspectives. This allows for the observation, deconstruction, and analysis of the dominant theme that characterises hospitality as a human phenomenon; that of the nexus of the host/guest transaction in different social, cultural and physical contexts. Furthermore, it is recognised that this phenomenon exists at multiple societal levels, such as, that of nations, communities, civic, domestic environments, and commercial operations. For example, O’Mahony adopts a nation as host approach relative to Irish immigrants to Australia, which is reflected in an Indonesian community in Cole’s contribution pertaining to the hosting by villagers of tourists, within a quasi-domestic level in the commercial home sector by Di Domenico and Lynch, while Wharton focuses on host/guest transactions within a commercial hotel commodity trading framework. Irrespective of level, Santich believes that three basic and underpinning characteristics persist and remain relevant in the contemporary world: the host is concerned with the happiness of the guest; benefits (actual or potential) are derived by the host; and obligations are imposed on the guest. This again emphasises the plurality, multi-dimensional, and overlapping nature of the host/guest transaction and the interplay between the different levels as a socially constructed process. In this respect‚ hospitality can be depicted as a mirror that reflects societal norms, values, beliefs‚ and ideologies. It acts as a benchmark against which to ‘measure’ social order and disorder relative to the host/guest relationship as highlighted by Sherringham and Daruwalla, representing a powerful way of seeing and understanding societies a micro and macro levels. This aspect is well illustrated by Bell who drew attention to a contemporary Hospitality: A Social Lens Copyright © 2007 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISBN: 0-08-045093-8
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form of public culture associated with commercial hospitality, based around cafes, bars and restaurants. He emphasised that what is happening there is about more than an aesthetic of consumption, with these outlets acting as a key conduit for a new style of inhabiting the city. This reinforces the importance of the study of micro-practices, and also the value in looking outwards to witness their broader impacts in transforming the culture and patterns of living. The foregoing provides a flavour of how the perspectives contained in this text can challenge conventional wisdom by bringing to bear multiple ‘eyes’ all focused on the same phenomenon that is hospitality but arriving from diverse intellectual starting points and ways of seeing the world. This serves to spark imagination, stimulating ‘unusual’ intellectual connections. It contributes to the creation of new knowledge that is not merely wed to unitary business, industry and/or management ways of knowing what is hospitality. The consequence is a move to more pluralistic and radical critical analysis, yielding significant intellectual gains. Therefore, the remainder of this chapter presents robust themes that have emerged from the editors’ analysis of the authors’ contributions, and are incorporated into an indicative research agenda towards the latter part. Through this process the extroversion of hospitality as an academic field of study is clearly demonstrated, as is the manner in which the boundaries of the field have been fundamentally pushed back to reveal inescapably intellectually fascinating rich and fertile research landscapes. Conclusions are drawn relative to implications for current and future students, academics, and reflective, philosophically minded hospitality industry professionals.
Dominant Themes Analysis has yielded nine robust themes with, as mentioned above, the dominant one being hospitality as human phenomenon within which the nexus is the host/guest transaction. Thus, in this sense the remaining eight themes can be seen as derivates of the core with the host/guest transaction woven strongly through each one. Together they form a hospitality conceptual lens (Figure 13.1). Given the complexity and interlocking nature of the themes it is necessary to provide early description of each one in order to aid reader understanding as follows: • Host/guest transaction. A social construct recognised to be at the root of any civilised society, while the mode of operation may vary over time and social and cultural context, in essence it is concerned with the extent to which a host takes responsibility for the care and management of a guest and a guest accepts or rejects the authority of the host. The interactional nature of the transaction is multi-faceted: social, cultural, psychological, economic‚ etc. and captures the idea of a ‘crossing over’ between host and guest. • Domestic discourse. Reflects the domestic roots of hospitality and symbolic connotations of practices, language and gendered roles relative to host/guest transaction within other types and sites, and emphasises the inter-generational role of that environment in educating as to the ‘laws’. • Commerce. Refers to particular types and sites of commercial hospitality where the host/guest transaction explicitly contains economic dimensions alongside those of the social, where the hosting is often ‘contracted out’ to an agent/employee of a commercial organisation, and authenticity is questioned.
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Inclusio n
/E xc lu
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a cs liti
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Typ es a
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Figure 13.1: Hospitality Conceptual Lens. • Inclusion/exclusion. The metaphorical symbolisation of hospitality with the host welcoming of an ‘other’ (guest) across thresholds signifying inclusion, equivalence among groups, and reaffirms insiders as socially similar; implicit is the converse of exclusion of unwelcome ‘others’ on the outside. • ‘Laws’. Albeit often unwritten, these are socially and culturally defined obligations, standards, principles, norms and rules associated with governing the transaction between host and guest, defining respective duties, and acceptable and unacceptable behaviours. • Performance. The host/guest transaction can be depicted as actors performing their respective roles, within a temporary time frame to a script governed by the prevailing ‘laws’, on a stage that is deliberately constructed to convey symbolism and meaning, and brings into play debates concerning authenticity. • Politics of space. Concerned with the concept of boundaries and meanings of a social, spatial and cultural nature that denote inclusions/exclusions, and define the level of intimacy/distance within the host/guest transaction once across thresholds. • Types and sites. Makes differentiation, recognising the multi-manifestation of forms and locations for experiencing hospitality and host/guest transaction, within which diverse social and cultural dimensions, and local ‘laws’ that may prevail. • Social and cultural dimensions. In the partaking of hospitality host and guest construct a temporary common moral universe, involving a process of production, consumption, and communication embedded in which are strong social and cultural dimensions that will define the host/guest transaction.
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Host/Guest Transaction The modus operandi of this transaction may vary over centuries, and within different social and cultural contexts but the essence and essential nature remains constant (O’Gorman). It is central to the concept of hospitality, and is complex multi-faceted, loaded with meanings, and heavy in symbolic associations related to social ideologies and beliefs, religiosity, cultural expression, and motives. The transaction is variously depicted: as a host’s social obligation to strangers and/or weak members in society, guided by a series of protocols and conventions that control and ‘entertain’ strangers who might threaten the stability of the host society (Santich); across religions it is aligned to benevolence, morality, ethics, and scared duty, as opposed to low morality, physical and sensory gratification, unethical and immoral, pleasure, and profane (O’Gorman; Sherringham and Daruwalla); represents a conduit that encodes and communicates cultural identity, capital, and facilitates assimilation in a co-creation process (O’Mahony); and motives are never completely altruistic and unconditional, but tend to be ulterior and impure (Ritzer). The content of the transaction consists of an act that is negotiated between host and guest to construct a temporary social connection (Cole), containing material and experiential elements that can connect, nurture and sustain body and soul (Santich), and out of normal life routines (Sherringham and Daruwalla). It aims to satisfy psychological and physiological needs of the respective parties, based on a concept of reciprocity (O’Gorman). In the latter respect, Cole introduces the idea of the tourist as an ambiguous guest in the case of Ngadha, where the host villagers appear to give without receiving in a conventional like-for-like hospitality manner. However, she found that tourists gave back in that, for example‚ entertaining guests from afar held social status value; and their participation in festivities made them especially lively, noisy‚ and enjoyable. Sherringham and Daruwalla surface the potential of transgression of transactional arrangement that may lead to disorder, resulting in what Ritzer refers to as disenchantment. This is illustrated in the alcohol-fuelled examples of the socially obtrusive behaviours of nighttime pleasure seeking ‘guests’ in city centre Manchester provided by Bell. The transaction can be described as transformative (Santich), and involves host and guest as they interact within the hospitality space and artefacts therein (Di Domenico and Lynch). For example, employing the metaphor of converting a ‘stranger into a friend’ signals a social structural transformation that processes an unknown ‘other’ into a known intimate (Sherringham and Daruwalla). This suggests a certain level of emotional engagement in the transaction deeper than surface acting (Nickson and Warhurst). It also leads on to an intriguing aspect to be found in the host/guest role and power aspect (Cole). In welcoming a stranger across a threshold‚ the host transforms them to the primacy of honoured guest albeit temporarily imposed on the host, subject to the moral authority of the host and their prevailing version of the ‘laws’ of hospitality. This may require subordination of the host’s usual freedom, order and disorder of routine existence (Sherringham and Daruwalla). Thus, all at one time the host is lord of his space, indulging in ‘god-like’ behaviour (O’Gorman), and servant to the guest, with social and cultural duty to take full responsibility for the welfare, protection, and happiness of the guest while under the host’s roof (Santich). A further example of role and power reversal is well illustrated by O’Mahony where the Irish immigrant ‘guest’ of the colonial ‘host’ in
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Australia is transformed into the host within a commercial hospitality environment welcoming the colonial host as guest. Domestic Discourse The private/traditional domestic roots of hospitality manifest themselves through: socialisation processes; language and socio-cultural anchors relative to the authenticity of the host/guest transaction; associated gendered roles and the organisation of work; and strong symbolic connotations with the concept of home. The domestic environment as home plays a central role in inter-generational socialisation influencing, conditioning, and shaping inherited societal norms, values, beliefs, ideologies‚ and contemporary interpretations of the ‘laws’ of hospitality. It informs and defines future generations of hosts/guests, their expectations and behaviours, including the gendering of relationships and roles. Some of these aspects are emphasised by O’Mahony within the context of commercial hospitality provision arguing that traditional practices have evolved from domestic versions particularly pertaining to the commodification of domestic labour in the simulation/transfer of gendered roles, and laws associated with defining host/guest relationships, conduct‚ and behaviours. Furthermore, evidence can be seen of the importation and application of domestic hospitality language into the world of business and industry as fundamental, powerful, and psychologically anchored reference points for members of society (Sherringham and Daruwalla). The language is used to articulate and critically analyse the authenticity of experiences. For example, within a commercial hospitality setting Wharton refers to hotels as ‘faux’ homes, and Santich draws on the concept of the host nation, to provide an illustration from the French tourism authority marketing the country using the phrase ‘feel at home and safe in France’. Di Domenico and Lynch illustrate a further perspective in the opening up of commercial homes to welcome an ‘other’ across thresholds to share in a domestic hospitality space. Quoting from Gites de France publicity, Santich illustrates the use of symbolic domestic anchors within this context: ‘you will be welcomed as friends of the family’. This signals a mixture of the familiarity of a domestic space and novelty of being in a place strange to the guest. The meanings and values of domestic symbols become cultural signifiers and communication tools that may be presented and coded by some hosts in order to be interpreted and decoded by the guest (Di Domenico and Lynch). Furthermore, Cole focusing on a house-based society in that the house is the central organising principle of the host society of Ngadha, argues that the hosting and rituals associated with hospitality are ways to domesticate and control the unknown ‘other’ who penetrates the circle of the hosts home, hearth‚ and social world. Commerce Hospitality when placed within a business and industrial context moves the host/guest transaction to incorporate an explicit economic dimension alongside those of social and cultural. Within commercial hospitality types and sites hosts perform to achieve business economic achievement indicators, employees for wages, guest in the pursuit of multiple
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satisfactions dependent on occasion and need, and those of a legal contractual nature join the unwritten hospitality ‘laws’. Any semblance to a domestic hospitality environment is frequently pretence and a consequence of deliberate stage setting. This altered state hospitality from the original private/traditional conception introduces the discourse of ‘authenticity’, a complex concept in itself. It attracts debate that concerned with the accompaniment of economic payment, ‘real’ hospitality may become a commodity bereft of the same measures of essence, essential nature‚ and core elements as introduced relative to the host/guest transaction. Wharton suggests that in modernity the mask of host/guest transaction involving liberality and goodwill must be maintained but it does not fool everyone. Indeed‚ as referred to earlier she uses the term ‘faux home’ to describe a hotel insinuating an inferior degree of authenticity. Ritzer takes the debate to an extreme suggesting that within the commercial context it becomes one of impression management, through staged authenticity, with the ‘host’ faking emotional connections and under committed to acts of hospitableness. In his opinion, this cannot be considered as genuine hospitality as it impacts on perceptions of authenticity. However, Bell counters the foregoing viewpoints by arguing from a human stance that central to the creation of new patterns of city living is the deployment of hospitality and hospitableness in commercial spaces in ways that are not reducible to calculative, commercial imperatives. Related to this topic and the evolution of the hospitality industry is the transformation of hospitality space, products and services into a commercial commodity, defined by Wharton as a standardised good which is traded in bulk and whose units are interchangeable. Furthermore, Nickson and Wharhurst specifically emphasise the commoditisation of hospitality sector labour. Such conceptualisations are governed by management agendas dominated by efficiency, predictability, calculability, control, standardisation, interchangeable units, human replacement by non-human technology, and simplification of process (Wharton; Ritzer). Ritzer argues strongly that commodification has converted the basic elements of hospitality into ‘nothing’; non-places, non-people, non-things, non-services. These are centrally conceived and controlled and lacking in distinctive content, and serve to threaten the basic premise, laws and characteristics of hospitality as the concepts associated with the contemporary hospitality industry are antithetical to conventional ways of knowing hospitality. Ritzer continues, talking about the growing threat of inhospitality in the hospitality industry. He argues that the concept of ‘real’ hospitality is ‘something’ with a guest’s engagement with places, things, people‚ and services at more than an economic transactional level, as have been previously highlighted (Santich; Di Domenico and Lynch). Within commercial hospitality provision there appears to be increasing homogenisation, disenchantment and dehumanisation shaping simulated, inauthentic, fake hospitality experiences. Consequently, Ritzer warns that the hospitality industry is in danger of losing the ‘something’ that lies at is very base in a headlong rush in the direction of the proliferation of ‘nothing’. This is emphasised by Wharton who stated that: ‘a grand hotel depends on its potential to record history and produce dreams’, and she is: ‘frustrated by the historical depthlessness of globalisation’. Furthermore, she suggests that increasing commoditised, standardised and branded hospitality products eliminates distinctiveness and robs of particular identity.
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Inclusion/Exclusion The charitable image of hospitality is one that is of kindness to all, benevolence to those temporarily homeless, and social inclusion, drawing on the religious motif of God as a benign, body and soul nurturing narrative (Sherringham and Daruwalla; O’Gorman; Santich). Paradoxically, it is this very metaphoric symbolisation of hospitality that has lent itself to application as an instrument that reinforces hierarchical distinction in society, and maintains and reinforces differences between the privileged and under-privileged. Thus, while Cole suggests that the provision of hospitality signifies togetherness; an equivalence among a group that defines and reaffirms insiders as socially similar there exists a converse. By welcoming and protecting an ‘other’ across a threshold, implicit is the exclusion of ‘others’ unwelcome and vulnerable on the outside. Furthermore, individuals’ experiences of welcome and/or rejection serve to reinforce perceptions and actualities of hospitality inclusion and exclusion. For example, O’Gorman identified that in the context of Ancient Greece commercial hospitality accommodation was deliberately constructed by the city state for ship-owners, merchants and visitors, product and service categories of which corresponded to the social and economic hierarchy of the day. ‘Policing’ and communication of the hospitality ‘laws’ that govern who is included and excluded take many overt forms, such as, government policies concerned with the treatment of asylum seekers, alcohol licensing laws, and standard procedures followed by the likes of security staff at airports, door stewards at nightclubs, and concierges within hotels. More covert forms include dress code, pricing policies, and what Nickson and Wharhurst refer to as ‘lookism’. O’Mahony provides the example of Irish Catholic female immigrants who were formally allowed to enter Australia, thereafter they were socially excluded from certain occupations by the host government, ironically forcing them into the ‘lowly’ hospitality profession of public house owner/management. While Bell recognised that in the process of urban regeneration new regimes of commercial hospitality production and consumption of cultural value are included that have the consequence of excluding the previous ‘other’ occupants of the space, such as the homeless. These examples reinforce the inhospitality of hospitality characteristic (Ritzer). A further relevant dimension refers to the host’s possession of the ‘power’ and authority to invite or permit guests to cross thresholds that delineate those included and those excluded spatially and/or perceptually. O’Gorman provides a thought provoking conceptualisation of this dimension. He notes that in Christian writings, God offers the newly created world as temporary living space to mortal guests, which ties into the concept of thresholds suggesting entry into God’s world in life and thereafter entry into ‘heaven’ in death. Once inside the host’s space, the guest is by definition a stranger to the place and thus generally excluded from what is for the host familiar and family inclusive, leaving the stranger standing outside, observing otherness (Di Domenico and Lynch). Thus, inclusion in hospitality, or not, is also symbolic in the marking of boundaries that distinguish the difference and/or distance between host and guest and the thresholds of intimacy. In this respect, Sherringham and Daruwalla, and Bell point to the role in some societies of alcohol as a social lubricant, a means to aid the transgression of boundaries via the breakdown of inhibitions, boundaries and thresholds towards greater intimacy and inclusion within a social group.
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‘Laws’ In an attempt to create and govern a common moral universe between host and guest reference is made to the unwritten ‘laws of hospitality’ that condition the nature, characteristics and limitations of hospitality shared, and define what is interpreted as acceptable and unacceptable behaviour (Sherringham and Daruwalla). For example, from a gastronomy standpoint, Santich explores the rules and laws associated with eating and drinking, emphasising that the focus is on consumption, to the extent that this is a convivial rather than a solitary activity therefore extends to sociability and communication. Santich and O’Gorman describe these ‘laws’ as the socially and culturally defined obligations, standards, principles, norms and rules associated with governing the transaction between host and guest. They involve a series of social rituals or courtesies that define the status of the guest, the nature of the host/guest relationship, and duty carefully balanced between the two extremes of hospitality and hostility. As identified by O’Gorman, the ‘laws’ have serious historic roots, however, he cautions that their essence and essential nature may well be redefined with modernity, by the respective reference points of societies over time. Ritzer deals with this aspect in referring to the socialisation of new hospitality ‘guests’ who will increasingly have less experience of the version of hospitality that traditionally lies at its roots. He asserts that their contemporary reference point may well be commoditised versions of commercial hospitality. Therefore, they will have little difficulty in accepting more inhospitable versions, as they will know no different. Ritzer raises an interesting perspective, however, the roots of the laws are planted in the need of communities to host, manage and control strangers in their midst; the entry of an ‘other’ into an established social order (Cole). Even in a contemporary, globalised world the ‘stranger’ remains a feature of all societies taking many forms including, for example, tourist, business traveller, asylum seeker, and immigrant. Underlying the laws is the wish to welcome along with the fear of the ‘unknown’ emphasising the juxtaposition of philoxenos and xenophobia in the establishment of a host/guest transaction (O’Gorman). These laws are recognised as a feature of civilised societies and the extent to which they are obeyed or transgressed and/or contradicted viewed as a measure of civility (Sherringham and Daruwalla). In Christian writings, non-conformity to religious hospitality ‘laws’ can be regarded as sin and described as the human attempt to be host rather than guest (O’Gorman), which links into the order/disorder and transgression debate presented by Sherringham and Daruwalla. Cole found evidence of such transgression in Ngadha when through cultural ignorance tourists could not interpret and understand them. For example, distributing gifts to children when the norm is that the adult host controls gift giving, the invasion of gendered space, and failure to accept the moral authority of the host. Thus, while the villagers attempted to domesticate and control the unknown other, the tourists failed to honour their obligations as guests. The analogy of laws is extended in language to talk about their ‘policing’, which emphasises the social control element implicit in the production, consumption, and communication host/guest transaction process. This is well illustrated by Robinson and Lynch within the context of a fast-food restaurant experience. Through systematic linguistic analysis of the host/guest transaction they surface ways in which the guest is socially controlled and manipulated by the host asserting power. In a further example, relative to
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themed hospitality consuming-experience space, dominated by the consumption of alcohol, Bell points out that it has brought with it heightened surveillance and security, with bouncers policing behaviour and exacting door policies. Furthermore, the universality of the laws of hospitality make them a vulnerable target to be exploited by those wanting to cause maximum effect ‘social shock’ through the horror and audacity of their transgression. Extreme examples come from early years of the 21st century, which saw terrorist bombings of international tourists (guests of a host nation) in Bali, Egypt, Kenya‚ and Iraq. The general heightened threat of terrorism has increased the policing and security screening of all travellers. These illustrations emphasise the need of hosts to negotiate between the freedom of guests to experience hospitality and the need to regulate guest behaviour to ensure the welfare and protection of all concerned in the transaction process through understanding and enforcement of the prevailing ‘laws’. Performance Di Domenico and Lynch introduce the concepts of socially constructed ‘performances’ and staging arrangements involved in host/guest transaction. It can be depicted as role-playing within a temporary time frame, in this respect Sherringham and Daruwalla likened it to carnival. The performance consists of guests living an out-of-their-world fantasy, released from the constraints of their every-day/community socially constructed behaviours, within the space administrated by their host, and governed by the prevailing ‘laws’. Interestingly, Wharton identified that design has impacted to create fantasy hotel space, which incorporates performative theatre dimensions. For example, she explained how the luxury hotel provided the stage on which ascending capitalists fashioned their commercial as well as social ritual. Wharton also points out that within the hotel industry the gap between reality and dreams is profitably disguised in some cultures by entertainment. She argues that in this respect hotels are part of performance, ‘titillating even in their variety’. This links to Santich’s idea of an ‘aesthetic of entertainment’ in which food quality is subservient to the restaurant experience, as a consequence of the incorporation of the food service sector into the leisure industry. Supported by Ritzer and Bell, it is clear that eating and drinking out with the home is no longer an activity pursued for itself but rather associated as part of the performance involved in the staging by the host and the pursuit by the guest of leisure, entertainment, and many other cravings. This leads Bell to propose that hospitality in this context has become a central part of the ‘experience economy’ of cities, with terminology such as foodatainment and drinkatainment entering common language. ‘Hospitaintment’ may well follow. Di Domenico and Lynch explore how the host in the commercial home presents and adorns the space with symbols and sets a stage, which again hints at the performative nature of setting. Within the commercial hotel sector, Wharton adds that symbols and markers are used, such as art, to perpetuate an aesthetic illusion of impracticality, extravagance and customisation to mask corporately employed Fordist principles. These authors acknowledge that the stage sets are not static but interact with host and guest as their multiple ‘scripts’ are enacted simultaneously for the duration of the transaction, co-creating the hospitality experience. Bell vividly illustrates these aspects within the urban stage set of
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Manchester city’s developing commercial hospitality spaces. These stage public performance of hosts and guests acting out ‘life in the crowd’ scripts, full of possibilities to encounter new experiences, meet new people, forge new ways of living, and actively engaged in hospitableness in commercial contexts. This provides a somewhat benign depiction of host/guest interaction not necessarily reflected by Nickson and Warhurst. They critique the practice of hiring people with corporeal capacities and attributes that favourably appeal to customers, which they term as ‘aesthetic labour’. This is about achieving an employee ‘fit’ with a hospitality guest ‘society’ within a socially and physically constructed space; a form of social engineering. Training is provided in customer service skills, instructing employees on body language, verbal interaction and customers, and dress codes and uniform standards, all of which has strong performative connotations. This corresponds to Sherringham and Daruwalla, who suggest that for the duration of the performance both host and guest have ‘masks and roles’. Within this context, Ritzer views the host/guest transaction as ‘pretend’, guided by designated roles and scripts, which guide a false performance, echoing some of the concerns voiced by Nickson and Warhurst. Politics of Space Hospitality space is heavy in its symbolic associations as has already been established in the foregoing. Furthermore, Wharton draws attention to the symbolism of hospitality space in defining nationalistic, social, and aesthetic values in her architectural analysis where she describes the old Waldorf-Astoria in New York as: ‘the quintessential expression of America … the pre-eminent space of social definition … expressing a social, indeed positively an aesthetic ideal … a synonym for civilisation’. Within an extremely different context Cole’s study of Ngadha refers to a house-based society where all members of society belong to a named house. He informs that these houses are not only symbolically living through indigenous cosmologies but they are given life force through rituals for their construction, which attract cultural tourists to the destination. A further illustration is provided by Bell within a contemporary city site proposing that the new spaces for commercial hospitality represent a powerful emblem of urban regeneration. Thus, Di Domenico and Lynch surmise that space within which hospitality takes place is symbolic in that it both represents and defines identity, reflecting internal and external social norms, that mirror socially embedded constructions of individual, community‚ and national identity. Furthermore, who is welcomed into a particular social space symbolises a certain social identification (Bell). The concept of hospitality space and its politics also has relevance to the physical space and the social aesthetic ideal presented authentically and/or as a veil to mask motives that may be considered as ulterior to pure hospitality (Wharton; Ritzer). Thus, the host is in control of the aesthetic production of hospitality space and the degree of authenticity as perceived by the guest (Bell). Wharton provides insight into the built environment of the New York hotel industry presenting viewpoints, such as: physical and aesthetic masks of splendour and respectability camouflaged the efficiency, profit and financial yield practices, and sordidness of some activities that took place therein; and many hotels have become mass produced space commodities disguised by ‘art’. Therein, discussion moves to the internal politics of physical space, and how it is delineated in terms of implicit and
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explicit inclusion and exclusion areas. Di Domenico and Lynch who explore the conceptual relationships between identity, space and setting within the context of commercial homes discuss this in detail. They state that explicit use is made of space boundaries and compartmentalism, critiquing Goffman’s theatre metaphor for ‘front’ and ‘back’ stage regions in an attempt to understand host/guest interactions, and host/guest controlling strategies. Wharton takes the theatricity aspect further within the context of hotel space to suggest that it provides an envelope for pleasure and commercial playgrounds, describing them as ‘complex, playful, places’. This again underlines the performative aspect of hospitality. Di Domenico and Lynch add a further dimension in that spaces are identified and characterised by the people who occupy them, thus both the host and guest interactively engage with, create and instil meaning from the space. In this respect‚ Cole noted that villagers in the houses in Ngadha are used to playing host, like guests and see tourists as an extension of this, making the space more crowded, noisy, lively, providing entertainment. Furthermore, a host must be clearly linked with a sense of place that they define as their own and have some sense of control over, asserting a sense of host’s identity and their sense of self (Di Domenico and Lynch). By ‘entering into’ the host’s space the guest becomes bound to the prevalent ‘laws’ of conduct (O’Gorman). This recognises that hospitality is conditional, the visitation or transformation is temporally bounded (Sherringham and Daruwalla), and it represents a fragile equilibrium between the desires of both guest and host, within a jointly contested and negotiated space (Di Domenico and Lynch). Bell ably illustrates these aspects of fragile equilibrium. He views food and drink hospitality spaces as public, social sites produced by hosts for the production‚ and reproduction of contemporary ways of living and visiting city-centre areas. They provide a vital space in which taste is produced and consumed, through food and drink, music and décor, ambience and service style, engaging host and guest in the co-creation process. However, Bell notes the problems to city-centre management resulting from producing spaces to attract crowds to eat and drink, where the version of hospitality experienced is not always paralleled to hospitableness, with resultant disorder and transgression of hospitality ‘laws’ as addressed by Sherringham and Daruwalla. Types and Sites O’Gorman found that five dimensions of hospitality have stood the test of time as follows: within most cultures it represents an honourable tradition; host/guest transaction is fundamental to human existence as it deals with basic human needs; provision is stratified by means of codification by type, and guest need, status and purpose; diversified types to meet the needs of the full spectrum of society; and it is central to human endeavour especially that aimed at enhancing civilisation. These dimensions emphasise the heterogeneity of hospitality types and sites and the importance of making differentiation to allow exposure of, for example‚ the ways in which hospitality laws are translated and applied; the range of motives at work in the host/guest transaction; manifestations of the politics of space within specific contexts; social dynamics and hierarchies; exclusion and inclusion of particular members of societies; and the interplay between different types and sites in terms of social interaction and reaction.
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From a temporal angle, Santich states that it is customary to differentiate early hospitality (private, traditional) from modern hospitality with its commercial derivative. Private/traditional host/guest transaction was viewed as broadly being between equals on the basis of reciprocity, which O’Gorman made reference to relative subsequent unity in bonds of hospitality. O’Gorman in his exploration of ancient and classical origins of hospitality differentiates between three variants domestic, public, and private. In Rome‚ domestic hospitality was never exercised in an indiscriminate manner although it was deemed to be a honourable duty. Private hospitality referred to the social obligation to open the domestic home to the reception of strangers, all of whom were welcomed but treated differently according to their purpose, rank and status in society. Public hospitality represented the civic/nation bonds that brought about an informal diplomatic avenue of communication and/or intelligence system. In the modern world, Wharton indicated that over time certain American hotels became recognised as community institutions and centre points for civic hospitality. Bell focuses on types of commercial hospitality urban sites noting that this variant has commonly been read as the stage for social differentiation and distinction. However, he argues that it can also be about social identification, for the sharing of not only food and drink but also worldviews and patterns of living. Within this context, reciprocity in the host/guest transaction converts into payment for goods and services, with the host receiving direct financial reward. Wharton and Bell highlight that through the embedding of private/traditional hospitality-type characteristics within a commercial site, the host and guest are depicted more as equals, masking the economic transaction facets of the relationship. Santich quotes Zeldin who asserted that when hosts lost touch with their guests and the ‘free’ hospitality enjoyed in, for example, monasteries and private homes, was superseded by the hospitality industry, hospitality was never the same again. This assertion was based on the premise that the ‘distress’ of guests in commercial hospitality provision is dealt with impersonally by agents of the host. Robinson and Lynch refer to this aspect of agency proposing the concept of two hosts: at the macro-level is the hospitality corporation; and at the micro-level is the agent (employee) of the macro host interacting with the customer, thus elongating the hospitality transaction chain. Di Domenico and Lynch introduce the hybrid concept of the commercial home that houses domestic and commercial space and is complex in terms of its uses, users‚ and manifest functions. For example, they found that the context of home encroached upon commercial interests, temporally enmeshing the guest in the host’s domestic routine. Santich provides the example of Gite de France as commercial homes that: ‘offer what money cannot buy, authenticity, hospitality, friendship, and the chance to experience the joys and pleasures of the French way of life first hand’. This links to Lynch and Di Domenico, in that a key component of the host/guest transaction is the host themselves, relating to places and people with a strong sense of identity. These two examples could be reflective of the commercial home context, and the extent to which they are generalisable to other hospitality types and sites governed by different standards, host/guest expectations, and laws would need to be considered. Social and Cultural Dimensions The metaphor of hospitality is used readily within civilised societies as a public signifier of nations, groups and individuals relative to place, inter-relationships, connectivity,
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hierarchy, dynamics and polarities, within a social structure. This arises from its high symbolic cultural capital associated as hospitality is with: acts of friendship that create or reinforce hospitable relationships signifying togetherness; means of cultural assimilation and promotion of understanding; welcoming of ‘strangers in a foreign land’; and peacemaking in diffusing hostile tensions and smoothing of difficult relationships. For example, Cole’s study of Ngadha tells of the centrality of pig reciprocity involved in feasts marking major house building rituals and explains how this: maintains links between family living and ancestors; mutual indebtedness and reciprocity is continued through pig exchange; the social status of the clan is publicly demonstrated; and ethnic identity is celebrated using the strong cultural symbol of the house for defining identity. While O’Gorman identified the key influences affecting the attitudes towards hospitality in the societies which he considered to be: religious practices and beliefs; the advancement of trade and commerce; transactional expectations; social status and the household; a system of communication; and fear of strangers. According to Santich, what is important is the place of food and drink in human societies and the norms explicit or implicit, which are understood and accepted by the culture in which they originate. This represents the cultural field of hospitality that underlines the importance of the cultural context, including beliefs and values that structure the host/guest transaction and content. The concept of hospitality as a co-created mode of production, consumption and communication involving host and guest emerges strongly from analysis (Di Domenico and Lynch), particularly as the sharing of food and drink is both biologically and culturally symbolically charged (Santich). Furthermore, Sherringham and Daruwalla assert that: ‘food and eating form bonds that link people together in a shared social experience nearly as intimate as sex’. Thus, the deliberate participation of ‘guests’ in the preparation of the meal and creation of the hospitality experience is accepted as enhancing the sociability of the occasion (Cole). In doing so host and guest aim to construct a common moral universe to affect a social structural transformation converting ‘stranger into a friend’. This will be dependent on the extent and nature of the social and cultural capital that is possessed or not by host and guest‚ respectively, with access to hospitality being contingent on having this capital ‘currency’ or ‘literacy’. Cole who mentions that if tourists to Ngadha demonstrated enough cultural capital to ‘fit in’ they may be invited to join villagers’ mealtimes provides a relevant illustration. This aspect is also emphasised by O’Mahony in a context where ‘guest’ Irish immigrants to Australia opened public houses drawing on the culture of their home country. This allowed the host colonial nation access to experience, learn and assimilate Irish culture and become literate in Irish hospitality. These ideas of host and guest sharing a harmonious moral universe and literacy relative to social and cultural norms, are somewhat idealistic and uncharacteristic of human behaviour. Rarely will there be a perfect match, and fluency in the prevailing language of hospitality. Inevitably host and guest will work from different social and cultural reference points regarding expectations and behavioural norms, varied interpretations of the laws governing hospitality, and deviating views regarding the power balance within the relationship. This leads to the idea of the host as a cultural guide or intermediary. Their role is to ‘educate’ and guide the guest, sharing their local social and cultural understanding and
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knowledge, to enhance the pleasure of ‘others’. Santich picks up this theme when discussing French commercial home tourist accommodation, where the hosts undertake to satisfy the natural curiosity of guests through discussion and print material, introducing them to their way of life and environment with a view to promoting understanding and mutual respect. More critically, the role of the cultural intermediary can be seen as a controlling strategy designed by the host to increase the propensity of the guest to conform socially and culturally‚ while temporarily included in a particular social group and welcomed across the threshold (Robinson and Lynch; Di Domenico and Lynch). Bell reflects two different types of cultural intermediaries embodied in the guest-consumer and host-producer‚ respectively. First, he identifies that within the urban setting guest-consumers are critical to the commercial hospitality infrastructure as they actively work through both their jobs and their leisure activities to set the boundaries of legitimate taste, and to embody and perform taste through their crafting of a ‘lifestyle’. This perspective touches on the manner in which hospitality is woven into a narrative of self-presentation. The second type focuses on the host-producers of bars and cafes who consciously shape the enterprises to promote particular kinds of conviviality, informality, and hospitableness. This is emphasised by Wharton, noting that the American hotels in her study not only mirrored the class of their entrepreneurial patrons, but also contributed to its construction. Bell concludes that in doing so the commercial hospitality creators transform ways of everyday living, generating new collectivities and a greater sense of belonging. Nickson and Warhurst add to the categorisation of hospitality cultural intermediaries by introducing agents of the host, which they refer to as customer-facing service employees, also highlighted by Robinson and Lynch. Nickson and Wharhurst focus on the concept of aesthetic labour, described as a form of commoditisation of labour within commercial hospitality, designed to perform to corporate brand values. These employees become the physical embodiment, image and ‘personality’ of the host that will interact with the guest. Given the socially constructed nature of the host/guest transaction this has implications as regards social fit and whether the employee is in possession of the cultural capital and literacy essential to be an effective cultural intermediary and to successfully establish a common moral universe with guests.
Hospitality: A Social lens At the genesis of this text, the intention was to write a follow on text to In Search of Hospitality. As the book has progressed, so the academic world of hospitality, metaphorically speaking, has broadened. Hospitality has moved from being a topic simply for thematic investigation directly or indirectly for the study of management to one that also locates the study of hospitality as a significant means of exploring and understanding society. From a hospitality subject perspective, the seeds were first sown in the discussions that informed In Search of Hospitality. At that time, a throwaway comment was made concerning the potential for a hospitality investigation of the Roman Catholic mass. Today, such a study would seem perfectly feasible, attainable and worthwhile, as amplified by the above themes which are scintillatingly research rich. In fact, probably to the extent that they may overwhelm and risk ‘research paralysis’ due to the multiplicity of avenues that could be fruitfully pursued. Furthermore, it clearly
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demonstrates that as a field of study hospitality is vibrant, dynamic, exciting and exhilarating, the boundaries of which are as limitless. This approach emphasises the endurance, centrality and inordinate status of hospitality in culture and society as endorsed by Derrida (2002, p. 361). Thus, there exists a growing comprehension as to the wealth of multiple, complex and diverse ways of knowing hospitality. Vast unexplored territories have been exposed for future research. The following attempts to capture some of the dominant strands towards the development of an indicative research agenda. A starting point is in the conceptual framework presented in Figure 13.1 which is not merely a deconstruction of hospitality but also represents a powerful conceptual lens that can be employed to examine social situations where hospitality is involved in order to understand aspects of the society in which the hospitality act occurs. In this way, one sees the transformational development of hospitality as an academic field shedding light not just on the hospitality phenomenon but also on the socio-cultural environment. Reflecting the origins of this text, the commencement was to draw together a collection of multi-disciplinary perspectives on hospitality. Such an approach might be considered an outside-in investigation of hospitality. However, as surfaced through the foregoing analysis of the chapter contributions, what has been revealed is a significant conceptual framework, in fact a tool for the analysis of society itself. Therefore, the study of hospitality now has the potential to also embrace an inside-out perspective, examining hospitality in order to understand society. For, not only is hospitality culture itself, as Derrida (2002) suggests, hospitality is also society. While the book has significantly progressed the subject of hospitality, major milestones on this academic journey include the observations of Selwyn (2000) reminding us of the centrality of hospitality in society, as observed by others before him (for example, Boissevain & Mitchell‚ 1973; Gellner & Waterbury‚ 1977). Acknowledgement should also be given to Ritzer (1996) who locates a social analysis within a management paradigm in which the hospitality industry is illustrative. The analyses of hospitality afforded to foreigners and ensuing reflections (for example, Derrida & Dufourmantelle‚ 2000) in which hospitality is treated as a philosophical concept centring on the host–guest relationship, associated ‘laws’ of hospitality, ideas of inclusion and exclusion, should also be given recognition. However, building on such works and the many contributions of those who have engaged with the study of hospitality in its various dimensions, now, the starting point is a hospitality frame of reference for understanding society, as currently developed in Figure 13.1. In order to deepen understanding of hospitality, the study of hospitality would benefit from turning its gaze outwards to the ways in which hospitality interacts with society. It is argued that greater emphasis upon what hospitality does to society and more broadly says about society is needed. Exploration of hospitality in an array of contemporary situations is required. By way of illustration, one could take an example of hospitality highlighted in the media (Rose‚ 2006) such as the force-feeding of Guantanamo Bay prisoners using extra large tubes in order to feed more prisoners on hunger strike more quickly. Applying the hospitality lens would lead to a fascinating study and analysis of both national United States treatment of prisoners and also of international acquiescence, as well as an enthraling examination of institutional ‘forced’ hospitality. Analysis of major celebrations, such as, those that occurred when United States and USSR astronauts first
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met up in space, the Queen’s Jubilee party in the United Kingdom, or the social significance of the pop singer Elton John’s civil partnership celebrations would be interesting in deepening understanding of the role of hospitality and its concomitant obligations as peace-maker, social integrator, role in social improvement‚ and the bridging of cultural gaps. The violation of hospitality has been identified as having as great social significance as a crime. The study of famous contemporary violations of hospitality, for example, kidnappings in political conflicts, such as in Iraq, would have merit from the distinctive analytical perspective of hospitality. In this ‘new’ world of hospitality, the study of hospitality is without frontiers. Wherever hospitality exists, in whatever shape or form, has the potential for an analysis through the portable conceptual lens of hospitality. Individual areas for attention that have been signalled are manifold and include: transgressive hospitality; the boundaries and hierarchies of hospitality; hospitality as liminal space; the portal of hospitality; inclusion/exclusion; hospitality and carnival. Nevertheless, while the research potential is vast, there is some value to be gained in indicating logical directions drawn from dominant strands for the application of the hospitality lens as emerges more broadly from this text. In a general sense, an obvious point of departure would be to explore in depth any of the individual components of hospitality, or combination thereof, as found in the conceptual framework that has been developed. The research themes below illustrate such an approach. The debate regarding the nature of hospitality explored through In Search of Hospitality has been developed further. Bell infers a conceptual narrowness in the three domain model (Lashley‚ 2000) and the emergent framework (Figure 13.1) is broader as well as articulating the socio-cultural linkages. However, the new framework may itself be criticised, for example, in relation to putting the host–guest relationship at its heart, instead of, say, the providers of services and consumers (Jones & Lockwood‚ 2000; Aramberri‚ 2001). Further debate may be helpful in deepening our understandings. The very nature of host and guest merits more exploration. Various contributors here have identified the etymological complexity and interchangeability of the terms, yet, their treatment in the academic literature tends to be more simplistic. In practice, however, individuals move fairly seamlessly from guest to host to guest roles in their day-to-day lives; further attention to this contemporary role mobility and interchangeability would be beneficial. For example, consideration of the quiz context winners on the United Kingdom national lottery television programme who get to live the lifestyle of millionaires for a week in their own millionaire house. Therefore, within a range of different social and cultural contexts, explore, compare and contrast the meanings, beliefs, values, protocols and conventions, and symbolism associated with the host/guest transaction hospitality. Investigate the content and facets of the socially constructed connection between host and guest towards the satisfaction of psychological and physiological needs, transforming a ‘stranger into a friend’, recognising that the host, guest and hospitality space are co-creators in the process of production, consumption and communication. Recognition also needs to be made of the potentiality of a dichotomy of host/guest reference points that may not share a common moral universe, albeit negotiated between the two extremes of hospitality and hostility. While the concept of unconditional hospitality provides a useful basis for philosophical argument (Derrida & Dufourmantelle‚ 2000), investigations in which the
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underlying motives and power structures supporting hospitality in social contexts where ideals of hospitality are supposedly espoused, serves to highlight the idealistic nature of the concept. There would seem to be value in exploring contemporary examples of ‘bountiful’ and ‘altruistic’ hospitality, for example, acts of charitable hospitality towards victims of the Indian Ocean tsunami or of civic hospitality, such as hospitality offered to participants in world economic summits, or that, at the time of writing, being offered to Saddam Hussein, in relation to revealing the underlying motivations of the hosts. As signalled by several of the authors in this text, hospitality excludes as well as includes. There would seem to be value in asking whether truly hospitable places are constructed, and hospitable for whom? Is public hospitality in fact only open to select social groups? At a secondary level, the ideas of inclusion and exclusion point to the way in which hospitality engages with and promotes social changes. The role of hospitality in promoting social change, fostering socially exclusive practices merits critical scrutiny. Therefore, study the host/guest relationship and roles therein relative to power and control dynamics and processes taking account of overt and covert practices to include/exclude, and manipulate, monitor, and police behaviours, towards the domestication of the guest. Challenge conceptualisation of hospitality as charitable and benign within the context of the contemporary socio-political world, confronting, for example‚ the manner it which is can bring into sharp relief the difference between advantaged and disadvantaged societal groups particularly in less developed countries; and physical displacement of people to make way for the ‘more important’ guests who invade their space in certain host communities. Examine ways in which different types and sites of commercial hospitality correspond to a concept of hospitableness to expose ways in which different, for example, host/guest motives, reciprocity, social inclusion/exclusion, and social dynamics and hierarchies present themselves. Draw on the discourses relative to authenticity and commoditisation to compare corporate strategies with the historically derived laws and characteristics of hospitality. From a balanced assessment as to the justification for prefixing the label ‘hospitality’ to industry and the extent to which the world of hospitality commerce is antithetical to conventional ways of knowing hospitality. Explore how hospitality is used as a symbolic marker that signifies people’s equivalence, difference, distance, and position within society that may offer a sense of identity, distinction, belonging and social ‘fit’ or degrees of the opposite. In particular, hospitality space has been recognised as a powerful emblem signifying national, community, individual and aesthetic values, with the potentiality to provide a sense of place and space, and draws attention to the politics of hospitality physical space. Compare and contrast historic renditions, and features and characteristics associated with hospitality against contemporary conceptualisations of philoxenos and xenophobia within an increasingly globalised social, economic, political‚ and technological environment. This could include modern day examples of the cause and effect of transgression of hospitality ‘laws’ with emphasis on the politics of hospitality. Apply dramaturgical and theatrical metaphors and theories to analyse the performative dimensions of hospitality drawing on performing arts literature to conceptualise it as
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fiction, fantasy, entertainment, and an out of everyday life experience. This emphasises the staged ‘unreality’ and aesthetic illusion that may be associated with certain types of hospitality. High on social construction, hospitality represents a rich and colourful stage to support scripts and narratives, multiple versions of this ‘unreality’ that individuals may use in self-presentation relative to their degree of inclusion/exclusion in the scene. The host is in control of the aesthetic of production of the hospitality space, however, the degree of authenticity is judged by the guest as the host, guest and space interact to instil meaning and make connection to the senses in a co-creation process that balances a fragile equilibrium between the desires and needs of the host and guest within a jointly contested and negotiated space. Further examination of this co-creation process is required. Analysis of the home and social dynamics therein would lead to a greater understanding of the socialisation and domestication processes and practices that condition, and transmit hospitality behaviour, norms, values, meanings and expectations between generations. Within nations that are increasingly populated by multiple ethnic groups, even in one host nation it should be noted that many cultural traditions will be alive and inherited by household members. The language of the domestic is recognised as containing powerful psychological reference points and symbolic associations with which to refer to hospitality as provided and experienced in other types and sites. Therefore, linguistic analysis of media, for example, would explore, uncover and evaluate the manner in which domestic language is applied, interpreted and its effectiveness in achieving desired effects. Yet, from an analysis of the chapters, and bearing in mind previous studies and current debates, four major strands are identified as of special significance in terms of our present understanding: hospitality and society; conceptions of hospitality and realities; the idea of the hospitality transaction as opposed to the hospitality exchange; and, critical hospitality perspectives.
Conclusions The development of a ‘new’ hospitality research agenda poses various challenges. Fundamental, is a willingness to extend the conception of the hospitality subject boundaries and recognise this process as very positive for the subject development and its consequent academic standing. The value has been revealed of adopting highly qualitative and imaginative research methods as well as the advantages of critical reflection and unifying assorted bodies of literature. Multidisciplinary perspectives need to be embraced with associated more inclusive literatures informing analyses. This represents a challenge as much for researchers from within the hospitality subject engaging with other disciplines as for those without who explore aspects of hospitality and would benefit from deepening their understanding of the hospitality concept and realities. A further challenge to the subject of hospitality lies in the limited availability of journal publishing outlets for more social scientific perspectives on hospitality; there is a significant danger of authors being tied to potentially restrictive and constraining bodies of knowledge owing to particular subject orientations. None of the foregoing challenges are insurmountable. While some
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may provoke debate, such discussions can only be indicative of a healthy and vibrant research community. This chapter has sought to complete the academic journey initiated in the introductory chapter and has done so by providing a conceptual synopsis of the chapters which has informed a powerful conceptual framework, ‘the hospitality lens’. It is suggested that this lens can facilitate the study of hospitality in any social situation from a strengthened social scientific perspective. It has also been proposed that the study of hospitality should be not just for understanding hospitality but also for society itself. Such an approach is suggested as both logical and healthy for the subject development with adoption of more critical perspectives on hospitality. Finally, one thing is clear, the health of hospitality research is indisputably strong and its future incredibly exciting and rich.
References Aramberri, J. (2001). The host should get lost: Paradigms in the tourism theory. Annals of Tourism Research, 28, 738–761. Boissevain, J., & Mitchell, C. (Eds). (1973). Network analysis: Studies in human interaction. Cited by Selwyn, T. An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (2000) In search of hospitality. (pp. 18–37) Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Derrida, J. (2002). Acts of Religion. New York: Routledge. Derrida, J. & Dufourmantelle, A. (2000). Of hospitality. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Gellner, E., & Waterbury, J. (Eds). (1977). Patrons and clients in Mediterranean societies. Cited by Selwyn, T. An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (2000) In search of hospitality (pp. 18–37). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Jones, P., & Lockwood, A. (2000). Managing hospitality operations. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison In search of hospitality. (pp. 157–176) Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Lashley, C. (2000). Towards a theoretical understanding. In: C., Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality: Theoretical perspectives and debates. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Ritzer, G. (1996). The McDonaldization of society. London: Pine Forge Press. Rose, D. (2006). Scandal of forces-fed prisoners. The Observer, 8 January. http://observer. guardian.co.uk [3 April 2006]. Selwyn, T. (2000). An anthropology of hospitality. In: C. Lashley, & A. Morrison (Eds), In search of hospitality (pp. 18–37). Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann.
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Author Index Abbott, P., 168 Adcock, F. E.‚ 25 Adkins, L., 168 Ainley, P., 163 Airey, D., 2, 4 Andrews, H., 61 Anonymous., 102, 104–110, 112 Aramberri, J., 188 Avieli, N., 55, 56 Bakhtin, M., 39 Bannerman, C., 85 Barthes, R., 5, 119 Barr, J. F., 144 Baudrillard, J., 101 Beale, J., 76 Beardsworth, A., 1 Bell, D., 1, 89, 90, 92, 168 Ben Jelloun, T., 73 Berry, L. L., 37 Bienvenue à la Ferme 53, 56 Binnie, J., 89 Bitner, M., 155 Bixler, S., 157 Black, J., 101 Boersma, H., 34 Boissevain, J., 187 Boldt, G. C., 102–103 Bolton, S., 162 Boomer, L. M., 105 Botterill, D., 3–4, 6 Bourdieu, P., 1, 158, 162 Braverman, H., 158 Bragg, M., 162 Brent, M., 35 Brillat-Savarin, J.-A., 47–50
Brotherton, B., 2–3, 52, 54–55 Browner, J., 51, 55 Brucken, C. E., 105 Bryman, A., 131 Buckner, K., 96 Burkeman, O., 166 Burns, P., 160 Calhoun, C., 4 Cannon, M., 74, 77–78 Carlsen, J., 118 Carstairs, J., 79–80 Caslake, J., 68 Casson, L., 27 Cavallar, G., 52 Chatterton, P, 91, 98 Clark, C. M. H., 74–75 Clegg, A., 118 Cohen, A., 166 Cohen, E., 55, 56, 142–143, 151 Cole, S., 62, 66, 69 Conn, S., 7 Connell, R. W., 76 Corbett, H. W., 113 Costello, C., 75 Crang, P., 3, 7, 118, 163–164 Csikszentmihalyi, M., 120 Cullen, A. M., 151, 156, 160, 162–163, 165–166 Cullen, A., 155 Cunnell, D., 151 Daeng, H., 63, 68 Dann, G., 143 Darke, J., 83, 118, 123
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Daruwalla, P., 43 DeFelice, J. F., 27 Derrida, J., 1, 6, 13, 36–37, 73, 187, 189 Devine, T., 121–122 Di Domenico, M., 117–118 Douglas, M., 1, 41, 43, 58 Dufourmantelle, A., 6, 73, 187, 189 Duruz, J., 94 Dutton, E., 158–160, 165, 167 Edensor, T., 120, 122 Edgar, D., 4 Ehrenreich, B., 168 Ehrenberg, V., 25 Elias, N. E., 38 Erb, M., 61–62, 69 Esperdy, G., 94 Essex, S., 118 Featherstone, M., 1, 90 Felstead, A., 164 Ferguson, P., 49–50 Fernández, R. M., 164 Fieldhouse, P., 51 Filby, M., 168 Finkelstein, J., 1, 90, 119 Fitzpatrick, D., 75 Fitzpatrick, H., 90 Fleet, J., 74 Fletcher, N., 41 Freeland, J. M., 74 Friedman, B. H., 110 Friese, H., 43 Frisby, D., 119 Fuller, A., 163 Gabriel, Y., 168 Gallie, D., 164 Garcia, F., 3, 7 Garval, M., 50 Gellner, E., 187 Gerolymatos, A., 25 Getz, D., 118 Gibson, S., 7
Gillespie, C., 48 Gilmore, J., 90 Glare, P. G. W., 51 Goffman, E., 1, 119, 121, 126, 142 Golding, C., 166 Goldthorpe, J., 161 Gottdiener, M., 93 Green, F., 164 Greiner, A. L., 79 Grimod de la Reynière, A. B. L., 47 Grove, J., 161 Grugulis, I., 161 Gurney, C., 83, 118, 123 Hage, G., 3 Hall, E., 168 Hall, T., 91, 97 Hay, O., 167 Hayward, G., 164 Heal, F., 1, 129 Healy, C., 120 Hetherington, K., 93 Hewison, R., 122 Higgs, B., 76, 83 Hill, S., 48 Hills, P., 121 Hirst, J. B., 75 Hochschild, A. R., 118, 151, 158, 160, 163, 165, 167 Holden, A., 91 Holmes, J., 141, 142, 146–148, 153 Hollands, R., 91, 98 Horkheimer, M., 4 Hornblower, S., 32 Hospitality Training Foundation, 155, 161 Hungerford, E., 102 Immigration Board’s List, 79 Irving, T. H., 76 James, H., 103 Jackson. M., 161 Janzen, W., 19 Jashemski, W. F., 27
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Author Index Jayne, M., 92 Jeffes, S., 157 Johns, O., 113 Johns, N., 151 Jones, P., 2, 188 Just, P., 67 Keep, E., 161 Keil, T., 1 Kellner, D., 4 Kiely, R., 121–122 Kinchin, P., 157 King, C. A., 53–54 Kingston, B., 84 Kirkby, D., 76 Kleberg, T., 26 Koenig, J., 1 Kotler, P., 34 Kurland, J., 3 Lack, J., 77–80 Lafer, G., 161 Lane, M., 79–80 Lashley, C., 1–6, 8, 9, 31, 52, 54, 82, 84, 96, 141, 150, 152, 188 Latham, A., 90, 94, 97 Lee, 76 Leech, G. N., 146 Leidner, R., 168 Liddell, H. G., 21, 25, 51 Lindsay, C., 165 Litteljohn, D., 2 Liska, A., 130 Locher, M. A., 141–142, 146–147 Lockwood, A., 188 Lonsdale, W., 74 Love, L.L., 152 Lynch, M., 121 Lynch, P. A., 7, 8, 43, 83, 117–119, 151, 143 MacCannell, D., 118 MacDonagh, O., 81 Macquaire Dictionary, 52 MacWhannell, D., 8, 43, 83, 118
Mageean, A., 94, 96 Malcolm, E., 76, 82 Marcus, C. C., 120 Martens, L., 1, 8, 119, 129 Martin, F., 120 Martin, L., 161 Martin, R. L., 163–164 Mathieson, A., 35 Matthews, V. H., 18 Mazzocato, M., 43 McCabe, E., 144 McCarthy, J. R., 102–103 McConville, C., 75 McCrone, D., 121–122 McHugh, D., 165 McIntosh, A., 120 McQuaid, R., 165 Mead, G., 5 Mellor, R., 92 Mennell, S., 50 Middleman, S., 167 Miele, M., 56 Mills, C., 161 Mills, C. W., 168 Mitchell, C., 187 Minchin, E., 51 Molz, J. G., 7 Morris, A., 121–122 Morrison, A., 1–6, 8, 9, 31, 118, 141, 150, 152 Mosley, D. J., 25 Muhlmann, W. E., 18 Murchison, K. M., 107 Murdoch, J., 56 Murtagh, J. G., 76 Nathan, M., 155 Nickson, D., 151, 155–156, 158–160, 162–163, 165–167 Nix-Rice, S., 157 Noy, C., 144 O’Farrell, P., 75 O’Gorman, K., 2, 129
195
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O’Mahony, B., 3 Oaff, B., 156, 166 Oldenburg, R., 136 Olins, W., 155 Ory, P., 50 Packer, J. E., 26 Palmer, D. W., 38–39 Parasuraman, A., 37 Pascoe, R., 85 Paterson, D., 144 Paterson, L., 122 Payne, J., 161 Peck, J., 87, 91, 92 Peel, V., 80 Pettinger, L., 156, 159 Philo, C., 96 Phillipson, C., 25 Pine, B., 90 Pohl, C., 1 Pope, H., 25 Porteous, D. J., 119 Prewitt, M., 166 Quilley, S., 91 Randall, S., 5–6, 8 Reece, S., 20 Regency Department of Education and Culture, 62 Reid, R., 75 Richards, G., 49 Riewolt, O., 112 Rimmington, M., 118 Riley, R. W., 152 Ritzer, G., 1, 9, 130, 131, 143, 145–146, 149–150, 187 Roberts, M. F., 106 Robins, A. W., 105, 108 Robinson, M., 7, 143 Robson, B., 92 Rochberg-Halton, E., 120 Rogers, R., 91 Ronayne, J., 84 Rose, D., 187
Rosello, M., 6 Rosie, G., 122 Rothman, R., 168 Rowson, B. 6, 8, 9 Ryan, C., 35 Ryan, J., 90 Sanger, A., 67 Santich, B., 49 Sardo, P., 50 Saussure, F., 5 Schmitz, L., 23 Schon, D., 6 Scott, R., 21, 25, 51 Selaf, G., 79–80 Selwyn, T., 1, 33–36, 41, 84, 119, 187 Serle, G., 74, 76 Short, M. H., 146 Shyrock, A., 50 Siggs, A., 120 Sim, S., 5 Simmons, J., 5–6 Slattery, P., 152 Smith, V., 35 Sonmez, S. F., 36 Soriano, D. R., 55 Spawforth, A., 32 Spiess, L., 168 Spillane, M., 157 Stallybrass, P., 35 Storrar, W., 122 Strong, R., 1 Stubbe, M., 141, 142, 146, 147, 153 Symons, M., 83, 85 Tabler, W. B., 111–113 Taylor, S., 4 Telfer, E., 1, 6, 8–9, 38, 54–55, 82–83, 89, 129 TERU, 166 Tessendorf, K. C., 102 Thompson, P., 165 Tribe, J., 2, 4, 6, 152 Tyler, M., 168
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Author Index Umbu Peku Djawang., 62 Unwin, L., 163 Urry, J., 121 Valentine, G., 1 van Loon, B., 5 Visser, M., 34–39, 41, 61, 65–66 Volkman, T., 68 Walbank, M. B., 25 Wall, G., 35 Wallace, M. B., 25 Wallis Budge, E. A., 19 Walsh, K., 122 Walton, J., 73 Walton, J. K., 1, 6, 8 Wansborough, M., 94, 96 Ward, A., 1, 8, 119, 129 Ward, K., 87, 91, 92 Warhurst, C., 151, 155–156, 158–163, 165–167 Waring, P., 168 Waterbury, J., 187 Waterson, R., 63
Watson, S., 4 Watt, A., 162, 165–166 Wearing, B., 119 Wearing, S., 119 Westwood, A., 155 White, A., 1, 35 Whyte, A., 96 Williams, A., 91, 93 Williams, 118 Williamson, J., 103 Wilkins, J., 48 Winsted, K. F., 55–56 Witz, A., 151, 155–156, 158, 160, 162–163 Wolff, K. H., 150 Wood, R. C., 2–3, 151, 168 Working Futures., 155 Wright, C., 82, 84 Yule, J., 80 Zeithaml, V. A., 37, 155 Zeldin, T., 52–53 Zion, D., 80 Zukin, S., 89–90, 94–96
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Subject Index aesthetic labour and hospitality, 155–159 aesthetic labour revealed, 156–157 conceptual dimension, 158 embodiment in, 158 emergence of ‘Lookism’, 165–167 extending the evidence for, 159–161 gentrification of skill demand, 161–163 initial development, 159 key issues arising from, 161–167 locating, 157–159 training to ‘look the part’, 163–165 Ancient Near East hospitality, 19 artifacts, 125 Athenian Constitution, 22 authenticity, 134 Breakers in Palm Beach, 106 carnival, 39–40 feudal hierarchy during, 40 food, 40 centrality of hospitality, 30 Chamber’s Journal, 104 ‘chora’, 119 civic hospitality, 24–26 commercial home enterprise, 117, 123, 126, see also domestic space dramaturgical model, 119 everyday signs and symbols in, 117, 119–120 external place within internal domestic spaces, 123–126 identities of external place, 117 identity, space and setting, 117–126 in the interior dwelling space, 117 theoretical constructs, 117
commercial hospitality, 8, 26–27, 49, 52, 73, 89, 92, 129–130 categories, 26 control in, 11 organizations, 131 venture, 118 commodification process, 122 commodifying space, hotels and pork bellies, 101–115 courtesy, 101 credit cards, 130 critical theory, of hospitality, 3–6 and social actions, linkage between, 5 research approaches, 5 cultural assimilation, hospitality industry role in, 73–85 and social achievement, 82–84 early Melbourne and hospitality industry conditions, 73–74 dimensions of hospitality, 17–30 Ancient Near East Texts, 18 central to human endeavour, 28 diversified, 28 fundamental to human existence‚ 28 Greco–Roman Mythology, 20–22 honourable tradition‚ 28 mythology and pre-history of, 18–22 origin and tradition, 17 origins in the ancient and classical worlds, 17 stratified‚ 28 diversification dimension of hospitality, 29 domestic discourse, 174, 177 domestic hospitality in Rome, 23–24
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domestic space internal domestic spaces, 121–126 meanings and values, 117 donggo sa’o (headwoman), 65 double control dependency, 146 environmental aesthetics, 119 European Gastronomy into the 21st Century, 48 external place, 121–123 fast food business, 130 principles of, 132–133 fermes auberges network, 55–56 food and eating, as carnival and hospitality, 40 and regeneration, 90–91 as a transgressor of boundaries in the carnivalesque sense, 41 Bakhtin views on, 41 economic value, 41 food, work, mutual obligation and social order, traditional links between, 41 material aspects of, 49 symbolic role of, 41–42 Foodatainment, 90 fundamentalism of hospitality, 28 *gastiz, 18 gastronomy and hospitality, 47–58 contemporary gastronomy and the study of gastronomy, 48 definitions, 47–49 production and preparation of food and drink study in, 49 science of, 48 *ghos-pot-, 18 *ghos-ti, 17, 36 globalization, 112 Globalization of Nothing, 130 guest, 18, 37, 119, see also under host and guest relationships and place and setting, 125 definition, 42
hereditary hospitality, 24 History of the Peloponnesian War, 27 home conceptions, hospitality provision and consumption, 118–119, 121 homeric hospitality, 51 homeric writings, 21 honourable tradition dimension of hospitality, 28 hospitableness, 54, 129 hospitality, see also individual entries ‘commercial homes’, 8 ‘hospitality management’ academics in, 7 ‘hospitality transaction’, 119 ‘human exchange’ aspect of, 53, 55 ‘intangibles of hospitality’, 146 ‘real’ hospitality, 178 accepting, 21 analysis, 2 and aesthetic labour, 155–159, see also under aesthetic labour and carnival, 39–40 and gastronomy, see under gastronomy and hostility, as twin faces of the interaction with the ‘other’, 34 and religion, 34 and the household, 22–24, see also oikos and the space concept of, 11 and tourism in Ngadha, 61–70, see also under Ngadha and tourism settings, 118 and urban regeneration, see under urban regeneration as a co-created mode of production, 185 as a mark of civilising societies, 34–35 as a symbolic interaction, 33 as a social lens, 186–190 as production mode, 119 centrality of hospitality, 30 challenge conceptualisation of, 189 charitable aspects of, 35 classic definitions, 129 conceptualizing, 130–133 contemporary understanding of, 52 critical perspectives, 3–6 defined by its impurities, 35
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Subject Index Derrida on, 6 dictionary definitions of, 52 dimensions, see under dimensions of hospitality disorder inherent within, 40 diversification dimension of hospitality, 29 experience, and geographical location, 150 fundamentalism of hospitality, 28 guest–host relationship in the study of, 7 hereditary, 22 honourable tradition dimension of hospitality, 28 hospitality ‘laws’, ‘policing’ and communication of, 179–181 hospitality conceptual lens, 175 hospitality settings, efficiency, 131 hospitality space, 182–183 hospitality studies, 2–3 host in the provision of the act of, 36 host–guest relationships inherent in, 33–34 human side of, 53 in Antiquity and through Middle Ages, 101 in England, 51 in Macquarie Dictionary, 52 industrialisation of, 3 intellectual growth and progression of, 3 Maison de la France website, 53 motives for, 38 multidisciplinary perspectives, 9–12 on the private or domestic level, 3 place in, role, 42–43 power of, see under power of hospitality private domain of, 8 private/traditional domestic roots of, 177 representation, 5 role of The ‘Other’ in, 35–36 social and cultural domain of, 7 social science perspectives, 1 stratification dimension of hospitality, 29 subjective experiences, 143 successful hospitality, 54–55
201
technical skills in the provision of, 160 three-domain model, 2 traditional and modern, distinction between, 51 transgression, rituals, roles and rules in, 38–39 ways of knowing, 173–191, see also under knowing hospitality hospitality industry aspects, 133 for social improvement, 81–82 growth in, 74 role in cultural assimilation, 73–85, see also under cultural assimilation threat to, 130 hospitia‚ 26 host and guest relationships as an ‘industry/discipline’, 36 binary nature, 36–38 boundaries in, 37 hospitality and tourism service interaction between, 142 hospitality between, 43 host, nation state as, 37 interdependence, 36 host/guest transaction, 53, 118, 174, 176–177 content, 176 description, 176 private/traditional, 184 hosting and rituals, 61 hosts, 55–56 and customer, relationship between, 147 link between, 145 symbols use in, 120 ‘hotel–home’, 118 In Search of Hospitality: Theoretical Perspectives and Debates, 1, 6, 186 inhospitable hospitality? 129–138 calculability, 132 control, 132–133 emulation, 135–136 enchantment/disenchantment, 135
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implosion, 135 irrationality of rationality, 133 non-human for human technology, 133 nothing, 136 people-non-people, 137 place-non-place, 136 predictability, 131–132 service-non-service, 137 things-non-things, 136–137 internal domestic spaces, 121–126 internal dwelling spaces, 121 intra-tribal hospitality, 10 IRAMOO (Our Home), 77 Judeo-Christian Writings, 19–20 knowing hospitality, 173–191 ‘laws’, 175, 179–181 commerce, 174, 177–178 domestic discourse, 174 dominant themes, 174–186 host/guest transaction, 174, see also separate entry inclusion/exclusion, 175, 179 performance, 175, 181–182 politics of space, 175, 182–183 social and cultural dimensions, 175, 184–186 types and sites, 175, 183–184 Landscapes of Power, 90 lookism, 165–167 LSTD (Love Saves The Day), 93–95 ‘luxury boutique’, 120 Macquarie Dictionary, 52 Manchester, 90 Love Saves The Day (LSTD) and the Northern Quarter, 93–95 new hospitality spaces, 92–95 new urban hospitality and hospitableness, 95–97 Northern Quarter, 96 Printworks and the Millennium Quarter, 93
public–private regeneration company, 91 urban regeneration in, 91–92 McDonaldization, 131–133 meal, symbolic role of, 41 ‘meeting at a restaurant’ concept, 43 Metamorphoses, 21 micro-hospitality business, 117 Millennium Quarter, 93 Ngadha ‘tamu negara’ (guests of the nation), 67 a house-based society, 62 adat (sacred) food’, 68 bhaga (miniature houses), 63 feasting in, 63–64 hierarchy, 66 hospitality in, 61–70 house rituals, 65–66 Ngadha feast, importance, 65 Ngadha rituals, 69 ngadhu (thatched, forked, wooden posts representing the founding male ancestors), 63 nua, 63–65 Participatory Rural Appraisal, 62 peo (stones), 63 Reba, annual harvest festival ritual, 64 ritual life, 63 sa’o, 63 tau tibo ritual, 64 the setting, 62 tourism and hospitality, 66–68, see also individual entry unbalanced reciprocity, 69–70 oikos (home, household), 22–24 Olympic and Paralympic Games, 47, 51 Oxford Dictionary of Economics, 101 Oxford English Dictionary, 52 perspectivism, 119 philoxenos, 18, 180, 189 Physiologie du Goût, ou Meditations de Gastronomie Transcendante, 47
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Subject Index place concept of, 42 role in hospitality, 42–43 popinae, 26–27 *poti, 18 power of hospitality, sociolinguistic analysis, 141–153 hospitality, control and sociolinguistics, 142–143 literature and qualitative research methodology, 143–149 presentation of self in everyday life, 118 Printworks, 93 private hospitality, 23, 184 public hospitality, 23, 184 Radiator Building at Night painting, 113 ritual overturning (inversion), 40 Seabourn cruises, 132 signs and symbols, 119 simulated hospitality, 134–137 Slow Food movement, 50–51 small hospitality businesses, 118 societas a maison, Levi Straussian concept of, 62 spatial commodification process, 123 stabula‚ 26–27 stranger/guest, types, 24 stratification dimension of hospitality, 29 ‘style labour market’, 156 successful hospitality, 54–55
203
symbols, 125 in the home act, 120 tabernae‚ 26–27 ‘Tap Rooms’, 83 TERU (Training and Employment Research Unit), 166 ‘the commercial hospitality paradox’, 141 tourism ambivalent guests and unbalanced reciprocity, 69–70 and hospitality, in Ngadha, 66–68 as ‘commercialized hospitality’, 142–143 tourists at feasts, 68 tourist–villager interactions, 69 unbalanced reciprocity, 69–70 Towers, 107 transgressing hospitality, 33–44 unconditional hospitality, 188 urban regeneration, 89–97 and food, 90–91 Manchester’s regeneration, 89, see also under Manchester Victoria hospitality industry, 73 VisitScotland marketing campaigns, 122 Would you like fries with that? poem, 144–153 xenophobia, 180, 189
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