What does it take to belong? Rethinking status and influence in high society

Philippine society is no different. What might once have seemed an impenetrable fortress to the aspiring classes is now fairly easy to access. The path is often straightforward: donate to charity, buy paintings by blue-chip artists, spring for the most expensive tables at important galas, engage high-profile designers and befriend the right people. Trying too hard? Maybe. A scandalous display of wealth? Perhaps. Yet that’s exactly what Bertha Russell did in The Gilded Age, which creator Julian Fellowes acknowledged was based on Alva Vanderbilt’s own ascent to the pinnacle of New York society in the late 1800s.

New money is merely the conduit into society. What the newly awash with wealth are endeavouring to acquire when they buy their way into rarefied circles is what French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu called cultural capital. Signifiers beyond financial assets—often opaque codes—determine a person’s eligibility for social mobility: knowledge, skills, education and cultural tastes. These intangibles can’t simply be bought. Society’s gatekeepers have long said that “trying hard” arrivistes cannot buy taste, no matter how much money they have. But, in all honesty, with the right mentors, taste can absolutely be cultivated.

And, lest we forget, today’s arrivistes will be tomorrow’s gatekeepers. As much as she grates and gets the codes all wrong, Lauren Sanchez Besos will—whether one admits it or not—eventually have her moment as a grande dame of society, for as long as her husband Jeff Bezos remains among the world’s richest men. Starting with Anna Wintour and Law Roach, she’s already chosen the mentors who will clear that oftentimes vicious path for her.

Cultural capital exists in three forms, according to Bourdieu: the embodied, expressed in personal knowledge; the objectified, expressed in cultural goods such as books and art; and the institutionalised, such as qualifications and credentials. Those seeking entry into society, therefore, understand the importance of sending their children to the right schools, investing in art and projecting intellectual authority in their particular métier.

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The proliferation of international schools in the Philippines is one example of how much parents value next-level education. Two generations ago, a handful of institutions, mostly run by religious orders, were widely considered the country’s top schools, while studying abroad was largely reserved for postgraduate studies. Today, for a certain segment of society—and those aspiring to join it—local schools are often unavailable, especially at the secondary level. It’s not merely about an international standard of education perceived as superior; it’s about children acquiring an ease and confidence that prepares them to navigate the world beyond the Philippines. It is cultural capital. Even the greedy congressmen who salted away billions of public funds from flood control projects understood that transferring their children to international schools was their wealth—and their societal aspirations—growing.

At the end of the day, society is tribal and, like all tribes, its membership grows or contracts depending on the parameters. These parameters, like the cultural capital codes, may be elastic, but they are implicitly understood. Not too long ago, eyebrows were raised when a certain actor and his wife moved into one of the posh Makati villages; today, the presence of movie stars and celebrities in these enclaves elicits little more than a shrug. Our own boxing champion-turned-politician made jaws drop when he purchased a sprawling 1,500-square-metre home in North Forbes for PHP 388 million in 2011, a record price at the time. An artist of humble origins now has his children waitlisted at the International School of Manila, their applications bolstered by the vigorous recommendation of a major art collector who sits on the school’s board.

Those allowed into elite circles often believe conformity is what they’re expected to do. They seem to assume the word refers to the outward trappings of power and wealth: luxury cars, palatial homes, club memberships, fine wines, spectacular jewellery and watches, perhaps even a private plane.

And yet high society is studded with well-born rebels and renegades, and sometimes not in a good way. Access to wealth and power has often led not just to scandals but to a certain level of impunity. Society can be cruel, yes, but save for the most egregious crimes, it rarely turns on itself.

Thus, when a “well-heeled society matron” was charged with the murder of her husband’s nurse—the husband being the scion of an extremely wealthy landowning family—after a confrontation during which the nurse refused to disclose whether he was having an affair, she wasn’t exactly ostracised. She denied the charges, and the case was eventually dismissed. For years, people would whisper “Bang Bang” whenever her name was mentioned, even as she continued to be invited to lunches, dinners and galas.

A man of almost mythical wealth from a family deeply entrenched in “old society” is said to be an incorrigible philanderer with a history of rather public entanglements. Yet he is never more than a whisper’s distance from the corridors of political and economic power. No doubt many in his circle and beyond breathed a sigh of relief when a particularly unsavoury character, notorious for his alleged links to murder and organised gambling, was blackballed for membership at the Manila Polo Club, despite the irrefutable cachet of his sponsor.