Category: Authors-en

Structural functionalism is a particular branch of sociology that looks rather mechanically at social structure and explains its coherence and persistence across time. It can be described as a school of thought whereby society is conceived as an amalgam of institutions, relationships, roles and norms. Each serves a particular purpose, and each is indispensable for the continued existence of the others and of society as a whole. Within this model of social order, a role is an identity label that assigns individuals particular places and powers within the social system; places and powers that are in turn recognisable by others who belong to that same society. Thus: a teacher is a classroom is expected to teach, to read and grade assignments; and to provide scholarly advice; while a student is expected to learn; follow their teachers’ guidance; compete assignments; and so on. Every person is society is expected to perform multiple roles – for example, that of a parent, teacher, friend, neighbour, political activist, club member, supermarket shopper, bus passenger, and so on – together forming a role set. For each role, persons typically enter into relationships with different members of their society.

There is nothing specific about small social systems here. What becomes significant is that, with smaller social systems, the likelihood that role overlap occurs increase. You board a bus as a passenger, but the driver is your uncle; you teach a class, but one of your students is your cousin; you work in a bank, but one of the staff members is your partner … The members that are ‘at home’ in relation to one particular role are also members of one’s other role/s. The odds of this happening increase with the practice of role multiplicity, a function of flexible specialisation. When such situations occur, the norms, responsibilities and behaviour expected by the complementarity of roles (driver-passenger; teacher-student; etc.,) can get blurred and become indeterminate.

Such situations breed role conflict: they provide unclear signals as to which particular protocol should prevail to the parties in the relationship. The situation is open to creative exploitation or accommodation, and can even lead to corruption. Such behaviour is denounced, of course; and there may be strategies to put into place to prevent such situations from emerging in the first place: teachers should not teach and assess their own relatives; and partners should not work in the same bank branch, for example. But in practice, such elegant solutions may not exist, especially where there is no open availability of alternatives.

To the untrained eye of an external observer, role conflict is rife in small societies. The complex interlocking nature of friendships and relationships can render the presumed objectivity and legal-rational basis of roles somewhat dubious. Outsiders can find themselves bemused by the games that people in small social systems play: role multiplicity, for example, has been described as crisis management verging on the comic (Weeks and Weeks, 1989) and role overload (Krone et al., 1989, p. 62), apart from role conflict (Baldacchino, 1997, p. 170). To insiders, this is just the routine of life in a small (often island) society. Role overlaps are “messy” (Baldacchino, 2007, p. 7). They will not go away. They must be managed as best they can; boundaries should be respected, and role incumbents spared from the embarrassment or uncertainties that can impact on their work and their probity.

Functionalism is no longer such a dominant school of thought in sociology. It has been criticised heavily for such weaknesses as neglecting agency, its inability to accommodate conflict and to properly explain social change, and its failure to address such inequalities as those based on race, class or gender. For this reason, the study of roles in social systems is no longer a popular pursuit. However, the design of ‘checks and balances’ within or between organisations often assumes that impartiality and professional objectivity across human relationships can be established.  But the multiple ways in which people may be known to, and related to, each other, with associated sympathies and antipathies, in small social systems is a given that can impact such relationships.  Political parties, for example, can dominate all three branches of government, directly or otherwise, even in democracies; and not just in small island jurisdictions; although in the latter such a situation is more likely to unfold (Baldacchino, 2012).

Godfrey Baldacchino

Baldacchino, G. (1997). Global tourism and informal labour relations: The small scale syndrome at work. London: Mansell.

Baldacchino, G. (2012). Islands and despots. Commonwealth & Comparative Politics, 50(1), 103-120.

Baldacchino, G. (2013). History and identity across small islands: A Caribbean and a personal journey. Miscellanea Geographica, 17(2), 5-11.

Krone, C., Tabacchi, M. & Farber, B. (1989). A conceptual and empirical investigation of workplace burnout in the food service. Hospitality Education and Research Journal, 13(1), 83-91.

Weeks, J., and Weeks, P. (1989). A day in the life of the Ministry of Education: case study Vitalu. Survival is the name of the game. Paper presented at Pan-Commonwealth meeting on the organisation of ministries of education in small states. Malta: University of Malta.

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Small, often island, societies have often been described as subject to extensive personalisation: meaning that their social, economic and political life can be heavily impacted and driven by decisions that are taken by and for people who know each other.

Classical sociologists, going back to Comte, Durkheim, Tönnies and Weber, assumed that the march towards modernity was universal, unstoppable and one-way: the practices of rural, traditional societies would eventually give way to more scientific, rational and secular behaviour; and that the ‘ascribed criteria’ that governed status and social standing in such societies – issues like lineage, family, tribe or race – would gradually be replaced by ‘achieved criteria’ – such as merit, qualification and experience (e.g. Foner, 1979). This movement has happened, with the inexorable march of urbanisation, institutionalisation and globalisation. However, the transition has been complex: nepotism still exists and is regularly exposed in scandals. While, in other cases, the thrust to modernity has even been reversed: small, ‘face-to-face’ societies persist; and there are various ‘lifestyle refugees’ who are willing and able to leave the anonymous metropolis and its “lonely crowd” (Reisman et al., 1961) and instead settle (back) in/on small island communities where children can grow up safely surrounded by family and neighbours who make it their business to know and watch out for each other (Baldacchino & Starc, 2021).

When David Weale, from Prince Edward Island, Canada (population: 150,000) talks about growing up “in a straitjacket of community surveillance” (Weale, 1992, p. 9), he refers both to the comfort and protection afforded by this organic security regime; as well as its oppressive presence.  

“Hyper personalisation” is especially active in small jurisdictions (Veenendaal, 2014), where “everybody knows everybody” (Corbett, 2015), the layers of government are thin and local, and where the state is soft and transparent, and so decision makers are known and cannot hide between seams of political or bureaucratic cadres, for better or for worse.

Corbett & Veenendaal (2017, p. 31) propose six dimensions of personalisation in the political sphere: (1) a strong connection between individual leaders and constituents; (2) a limited private sphere; (3) a limited role for ideology and programmatic policy debate; (4) strong political polarisation; (5) the ubiquity of patronage; and (6) the capacity of individual leaders to dominate all aspects of public life. These dimensions are significant in small (often island) political systems, and where political actors and their voting publics can and do seek each other out and develop personal relationships. Such behaviour is rendered more possible and plausible when the number of votes required to elect a politician is low. Personalisation can also explain high voter turnout in small jurisdictions where it is not even necessary to incentivise voting by fining those who do not vote: in such locations, individual citizens cannot afford to be seen not to vote (Hirczy, 1995).

In the social and economic spheres, personalisation is also driven by the robustness and resilience of family, kinship and friendship networks. Connections become embroiled in obligations which are hard to dismiss; and the expectation to put ‘family first’ will be hard to resist, and with serious consequences. Workplaces, in particular, will be occupied by workers who are related to each other, will have sympathies or antipathies for each other, who form part of an ‘old boys’ or ‘old girls’ network … and these informal dynamics will not always be self-evident to their managers, to the latter’s desperation and frustration (Baldacchino, 1997).

Personalisation confronts, tweaks and infects the practice of institutions which, by definition, are meant to be fair by being faceless. Institutions are meant to work on principles of legality and rationality, whereby those who perform tasks are so recruited and designated on the basis of contractual, warranted and/or credentialed parameters. But this does not always happen; although extreme lengths may be taken to keep up the pretence. A difficulty arises when, for example, an individual with a particular skill set needs to be engaged; yet that person is expected to ‘go through the motions’ of what the institution demands in terms of the hiring process: e.g. submitting application, shortlisting, interview, tendering documentation, health checks, etc. –  in order to get recruited.

Godfrey Baldacchino

Baldacchino, G. (1997). Global tourism and informal labour relations; The small scale syndrome at work. London: Mansell.

Baldacchino, G., & Starc, N. (2021). The virtues of insularity: Pondering a new chapter in the historical geography of islands. Geography Compass, 15(12), e12596.

Corbett, J. (2015). “Everybody knows everybody”: Practising politics in the Pacific Islands. Democratization, 22(1), 51-72.

Corbett, J. & Veenendaal, W. (2017). The personalisation of democratic leadership? Evidence from small states. Social Alternatives, 36(3), 31-36.

Foner, A. (1979). Ascribed and achieved bases of stratification. Annual Review of Sociology, 5(1), 219-242.

Hirczy, W. (1995). Explaining near‐universal turnout: The case of Malta. European Journal of Political Research, 27(2), 255-272.

Riesman, D., Glazer, N., & Denney, R. (1961). The lonely crowd: A study of the changing American character. New Haven CT: Yale University Press.

Veenendaal, W. (2014). Politics and democracy in microstates. London: Routledge.

Weale, D. (1992). Them times. Charlottetown, Canada: Acorn Press.

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This is the typical ‘cocktail party’ creative conversation. You find yourself alone at a reception; and another ‘alone’ person is next to you. You two do not know each other; but, being stuck together in the same space creates an obligation to chat. One way in which two strangers make conversation is – via a series of polite but exploratory questions – to scope, probe and tease out a ‘third person’ that they both know.

This behaviour can happen anywhere. However, in a small-scale environment, with a limited population, one can be assured of two things: (1) most people will know each other directly; and (2) for those who do not know each other directly, they are confident that they will have various ‘third persons’ that will be known to both of them. And it is easy and quick to find out who these are. It is just a matter of time, usually a few seconds, before a sequence of questions between A and B – what is your name; where are you from; which school did you attend; where do you work – leads naturally to the suggestion: ‘do you know C?’ and which is met by a favourable reply. The choice of ‘C’ is critical because it is illustrative of the social standing of both A and B.

These insights, and the judgements that people make about each other via third persons, lead to a better understanding of social networks.

For those who know each other directly, they benefit from zero degrees of separation. For those who do not, but hail from small social systems, then the likelihood is that they are just one degree of separation away, with at least one (probably more) acquaintance known to both of them.

These observations are self-evident to citizens of small-scale (often island) societies; not so much to those from larger settings, where the concept of a complete stranger is real and possible. Additionally, given the intense personalisation and the need for the “management of intimacy” (Lowenthal, 1987) in small state settings, it is to be expected that most individuals in such societies will seek to build direct relationships with ‘those who matter’, including those in the highest office: nothing but ‘zero degrees of separation’ would suffice. Such relationships, leading potentially to cosy liaisons, would be expected by the politico-economic elites and their lobby groups in large countries; in small (including island) democratic societies, they can materialise amongst a significant segment of the broad population.

Hence the realisation that people in small-scale societies are, at best, zero degrees of separation away from each other; and, at most, one degree of separation away from each other. In plainer language: everyone would ideally know everyone else; but, where this is not the case, everyone may yet know someone who does know everyone else. This is documented in the work of anthropologist Joseph Barnes and his fieldwork on the island of Bremnes, Norway, in the 1950s (Barnes, 1954). At the time of his research, the population of Bremnes was 4,600.

It has been argued that all the living people on planet Earth are separated from each other by six degrees of separation, at most (Smith, 2008). With the arrival of social media platforms in recent years, social distance on average has fallen to less than four degrees of separation: a mean of 3.74 for Facebook users (Backstrom et al., 2012); and a mean of 3.43 for Twitterati (Bakhshandeh, et al., 2011).

The “small world problem” is described by Milgram (1967, p. 61) in the following episode:

Fred Jones of Peoria, sitting in a sidewalk cafe in Tunis, and needing a light for his cigarette, asks the man at the next table for a match. They fall into conversation; the stranger is an Englishman who, it turns out, spent several months in Detroit studying the operation of an interchangeable-bottlecap-factory. “I know it’s a foolish question,” says Jones, “but did you ever by any chance run into a fellow named Ben Arkadian? He’s an old friend of mine, manages a chain of supermarkets in Detroit…”

“Arkadian, Arkadian,” the Englishman mutters. “Why, upon my soul, I believe I do! Small chap, very energetic, raised merry hell with the factory over a shipment of defective bottlecaps.”

“No kidding!” Jones exclaims in amazement.

“Good lord, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”.

Milgram (1967, p. 65) went on to report that, from his research, “chains varied from two to ten intermediate acquaintances, with the median at five”. Any person appeared to be able to reach another person with an average of six jumps: the empirical basis for the phrase ‘six degrees of separation’. The frequency, nature and likelihood of knowing others and reaching out, however, are impacted an compromised by aspects of social and economic capital, such as education, wealth and social class (Kleinfeld, 2002).

Early evidence of the idea behind the notion of degrees of separation is a game recorded in a 1929 short story by a Hungarian author (Karinthy, 1929). A play (Guare, 1990) explores the existential premise that every person in the world is connected to every other person by a chain of no more than six acquaintances. Thus: ‘six degrees of separation’. An American comedy-drama film with the same name, directed by Fred Schepisi, and inspired by the same play, was released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1993.

Godfrey Baldacchino

Backstrom, L., Boldi, P., Rosa, M., Ugander, J., & Vigna, S. (2012, June). Four degrees of separation. In Proceedings of the fourth Annual ACM Web Science Conference (pp. 33-42). Retrieved from: https://dl.acm.org/doi/pdf/10.1145/2380718.2380723

Bakhshandeh, R., Samadi, M., Azimifar, Z., & Schaeffer, J. (2011, July). Degrees of separation in social networks. In Fourth Annual Symposium on Combinatorial Search (pp. 18-23). Retrieved from: https://www.aaai.org/ocs/index.php/SOCS/SOCS11/paper/download/4031/4352

Barnes, J. A. (1954). Class and committees in a Norwegian island parish. Human Relations, 7(1), 39-58. 

Guare, J. (1990). Six degrees of separation: A play. New York: Vintage.

Karinthy, F. (1929). Chain Links. In: Everything is different. Retrieved from: http://vadeker.net/articles/Karinthy-Chain-Links_1929.pdf

Kleinfeld, J. (2002). Could it be a big world after all? The six degrees of separation myth. Society, 12, 5-2. Retrieved from: https://www.cs.princeton.edu/~chazelle/courses/BIB/big-world.htm

Lowenthal, D. (1987). Social features. In C. Clarke & T. Payne (Eds.), Politics, security  and development in small states (pp. 26-49). London: Allen & Unwin.

Milgram, S. (1967). The small-world problem. Psychology Today, 1(1), 61-67.

Smith, D. (2008, August 3). Proof! Just six degrees of separation between us. The Guardian (UK). Retrieved from: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2008/aug/03/internet.email

Filmography

Six Degrees of Separation (1993). Produced by Fred Schepisi. Trailer at: https://www.imdb.com/video/vi3416524057?playlistId=tt0108149&ref_=tt_pr_ov_vi and at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBO1Sr14eQQ

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Any society, and especially a jurisdiction, will require a set number of roles typically performed by the state: a speaker of the house, a commissioner of police, a chief justice, an accountant general, a postmaster general, a medical superintendent. Whether we are talking of India (the world’s largest democracy by population) or Tuvalu (the world’s smallest sovereign island state), these roles must exist in a well-functioning democracy. Small societies may be unable to spread out these roles over as many people. So, they combine some of the many roles within the job description of the same person. Therefore “[n]ot only are there fewer roles in a small scale society, but because of the smallness of the total social field, many roles are played by relatively few individuals” (Benedict, 1967, p. 26).

To illustrate this with a real life example, consider the department of sociology of a large public university. York University (YU), Toronto, Canada (population: 36 million) is a large public tertiary education institution with over 55,000 students. It employs 41 full-time academics in its department of sociology (https://www.yorku.ca/laps/soci/). At the University of Malta (UM), the only public university in this small island state (population: 500,000) with some 12,000 students, there are just six full-time academics in its department of sociology (https://www.um.edu.mt/arts/sociology/ourstaff). Both departments are expected to teach sociology at undergraduate and postgraduate level, and lead or supervise cutting-edge research in this field. This means that the sociologists at UM cannot afford to specialise too closely, unlike their disciplinary colleagues at YU. Some areas of narrow specialisation, which may thrive at YU, may remain unclaimed at UM. And, among themselves, sociologists at UM will be expected to broaden their portfolio enough to be able to offer a suitably comprehensive curriculum to their students; something that sociologists at YU do not have to consider.

This leads to a situation of flexible specialisation in the small island locale: one whereby individuals occupy vacant talent or expert niches, not necessarily because they are seasoned and proven experts in that field; but because they may have cognate knowledge in a related field. As “polyvalent handymen” and women (Bennell and Oxenham, 1983, p. 24), flexible specialists are also better at ‘connecting’ knowledge, gravitating more naturally towards trans-disciplinary positions and epistemologies.  Of course, in order to cover a greater breadth, they may have to sacrifice depth. But such ‘depth’ may not be that critical in small island jurisdictions: a limited (and non-specialist) amount of knowledge in a specific field may be enough to satisfy the needs of that society. “Small [often island] countries certainly need the best; but in small countries, the best may sometimes be defined in terms of flexibility and breadth, rather than depth” (Brock, 1988, p. 306) … although this may be hard to admit. Prestige apart, there is, really, no choice but to put into practice the tweaked version of that old adage: being a Jack (or Jill) of all trades, and hopefully sufficiently master (or mistress) of all (Firth, 1951, p. 47; Jacobs, 1989, p. 86). With the resort to “occupational multiplicity” (Comitas, 1963, p. 41), any specialisation, and the division of labour it assumes, remain incomplete (Shaw, 1982, p. 98). There are clear benefits in being a big fish in a small pond (Baldacchino, 1997, p. 127).

Investing in a repertoire of skills, preferably specialisms, successively and/or synchronously comes across as a rational strategy: the more so if small island citizens, in the course of their working lives, have to face (often sudden) economic setbacks and reversals as well as openings and opportunities (including the option to spend time off their island) (Carnegie, 1982). The role enlargement and role multiplicity that accompany such behavioural responses to the small island condition are shrewd response mechanisms for enhancing, equilibrating and minimising risk in boom or bust conditions: a core component of a “security centered survival algorithm” (Brookfield, 1975, pp. 56-57). There is a tacit recognition that each option is, in itself, limited and fragile, not enough to constitute a permanent and secure operation. This occurs because of either changes in client taste or demand (via shifting market trends) or talent supply (because of ease of replacement or increased competition). Maximizing role diversity and exploiting specialisms while and for as long as they last is a proven, winning combination in the face of uncertainty.

Documented life histories of small island citizens often reveal and illustrate how these persons are essentially glocally operating, flexible specialists and brokers. Consider Isaac Caines (a pseudonym), stevedore, cane cutter and labourer from St Kitts (Richardson, 1983, pp. 54-5); Kawagl, a Chimbu subsistence farmer from Melanesia (Brookfield, 1972, pp. 167-8); or Marshy, the street vendor who specialises in steamed fish and bammy, from Kingston, Jamaica (Wardle, 2002).

Godfrey Baldacchino

Baldacchino, G. (1997). Global tourism and informal labour relations: The small scale syndrome at work. London: Mansell.

Benedict, B. (Ed.) (1967). Problems of smaller territories. London: Institute of Commonwealth Studies.

Bennell, P., & Oxenham, J. (1983). Skills and qualifications for small island states. Labour and Society, 8(1), 3-38.

Brookfield, H. C. (1972). Colonialism development and independence: The case of the Melanesian islands in the South Pacific. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Brookfield, H. C. (1975). Multum in parvo: questions about diversity and diversification in small developing countries. In P. Selywn (Ed.), Development policy in small countries (pp. 54-76). London: Croom Helm. 

Brock, C. (1988). Education and national scale: the world of small states. Prospects, 18(3), 302-314.

Carnegie, C. V. (1982). Strategic flexibility in the West Indies: a social psychology of Caribbean migration. Caribbean Review, 11(1), 10-13, 54.

Comitas, L. (1963). Occupational multiplicity in rural Jamaica. In V. Garfield & E. Friedl (Eds.), Symposium on community studies in anthropology. Proceedings of the American Ethnological Society. Seattle WA: University of Washington Press.

Firth, R. (1951). Elements of social organisation. London: Watts & Co.

Jacobs, J. (1989). The economic development of small countries: Some reflections of a non-economist. In J. Kaminarides, L. Briguglio & H. N. Hoogendonk (Eds.), The economic development of small countries: Problems, strategies and policies (pp. 83-90). Delft, The Netherlands: Eburon.

Richardson, B. C. (1983). Caribbean migrants: Environment and human survival on St. Kitts and Nevis. Knoxville TN: University of Tennessee Press.

Shaw, B. (1982). Smallness, islandness, remoteness, and resources: an analytical framework. Regional Development Dialogue, 3(1), 95-109.

Wardle, H. (2002). Marshy and friends: informality, deformalisation and West Indian island experience. Social Identities, 8(2), 255-270.

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On small islands, (social) intimacy, (economic) monopoly and (political) totality combine to create a very distinct societal fabric that one simply must learn to negotiate and possibly manage in order to survive ‘island life’. Should a small island citizen find this combination too oppressive and even unbearable, the only realistic solution may be exile (or ‘ex-isle’: Bongie, 1998).

            The remarkable sense of a tight community on small islands is often accompanied by the equally strong presence of the state, especially in small island states and subnational island jurisdictions. Ubiquitous and omnipresent, the ramifications of the state in small island states and territories are extensive and are reminiscent of totalitarian regimes where ‘big brother’ (or ‘big sister’) is watching you. While most small islands are formally democratic, the tendency toward totality means that their informal dynamics are often characterised by a significant degree of authoritarianism (Erk and Veenendaal, 2014). The relative lack of a vibrant private sector economy in many small island jurisdictions means that many islanders will depend on the state, directly or indirectly, for employment, concessions or contracts. The clutches of the state are so expansive that even civil society, where it exists on small islands, may often organize itself primarily to lobby and seek resources from the state.

Political leaders in small states tend to remain in office for comparatively long periods. During this time, they tend to dominate the entire political arena: a feature highlighted in ‘big man politics’ (McLeod, 2007). The relative weakness of parliament, the political opposition, the media, and other institutions that are supposed to function as a check on executive power often implies omnipotent small state governments. Such a condition can led to a concentration of vast powers in single individuals. Traditional leaders commonly combine their chiefly titles with owning a business and running for elected office, leading to a convergence of traditional, economic and political power. The upshot of such developments is a lack of power sharing as well as the absence of economic and political pluralism, which may ultimately undermine effective governance (Baldacchino and Veenendaal, 2018).

This intensity of the state’s presence in island life is exacerbated by personality politics. Political contests are accompanied by media broadcasts, televised meetings and debates, and now also on social media, just like in other, larger, jurisdictions. However, in small societies, the voter and the voted are more likely to know each other in person: they will typically make it a point to connect at a physical and face-to-face level. This voter-politician relationship is exacerbated and facilitated by the relatively smaller number of votes required to elect a small island representative to office. This occurs because parliaments, even in small jurisdictions, will always have a minimum number of members and so loom disproportionately large, relative to the size of the electorate. Such low numbers and ratios make personal relationships inevitable, and both the voter and the candidate are likely to make themselves known to each other. Indeed, small island societies can rightly claim to manifest some of the world’s highest voter turnouts: in Malta and Iceland, voter turnout is typically 90% or more (even though voting is not compulsory). Such societies are not necessarily examples of strong citizen engagement and good democratic practice; they are also places where it may not be a good idea to be seen, and therefore known, not to vote (Hirczy, 1995).

Another justification for the extraordinary role of the state in small island societies has to do with critical mass. This suggests that any society, and especially a jurisdiction, will require a set number of roles typically performed by the state: a speaker of the house, a commissioner of police, a chief justice, an accountant general, a postmaster general, a medical superintendent. Whether we are talking of India (the world’s largest democracy by population) or Tuvalu (the world’s smallest sovereign island state), these roles must exist in a well-functioning democracy. If unable to spread out these roles to as many people, small societies can, and do, combine some of these roles within the job description of the same person. Therefore “[n]ot only are there fewer roles in a small scale society, but because of the smallness of the total social field, many roles are played by relatively few individuals” (Benedict, 1967, p. 26).

Such overlapping roles can lead to situations of role conflict: the same individuals are brought into contact multiple times in various social contexts, and where these persons are notionally playing different roles. In small island social systems, ascribed criteria trump achieved criteria, even in notionally meritocratic settings. Primary and secondary school mates reconnect in higher education, in the workplace, in other social, political and religious activities. Friendships last decades and can encourage subtle forms of preference, discrimination and favouritism: what has been described as “amoral familism” (Banfield, 1958). Meanwhile, rivalries too will last a lifetime and can trigger serious enmities and antipathetic relations, reminiscent of mafia-style affairs. Thus, a small island citizen will grow up in a dense network of family, friends and “friends of friends” (Boissevain, 1974) arising from a “straightjacket of community surveillance” (Weale, 1992, p. 9), and accentuated by the state and an intrusive political system.

No wonder, therefore, that a small island society (or polity) has been described as approximating a ‘total institution’, a term popularised by Goffman (1961). In most western societies, there may be clear boundaries between the places where – and social groups with which – people, work, play, pray, relax, eat and sleep. In total institutions, however, such barriers and borders may crack, break down or are inexistent. The term was coined to refer to asylums (mental institutions with residential inmates), but has been extended to apply to such places as boarding schools, prisons or army barracks. Given the way that totality applies, as described above, a small island society, and especially a small island jurisdiction, could also qualify. After all, in a total institution, “… all aspects of life are conducted in the same place [read: small island] and under the same single authority [read: the state, the government, as well as the surveillance-obsessed society]” (Goffman, 1961, p. 12). Small islands have been differently described as total institutions in recent years because of growing dispositions by their governments towards securitisation and securing their borders: whether in response to ‘undocumented migrant’ arrivals or as a proactive protection measure in the face of the threat of Covid-19 (Lemaire, 2014; Agius et al., 2021). In so doing, such governments pursue the “unattainable desire of insularity” (Perera, 2009, p. 1). Island detention centres “function as islands within islands, as if to accentuate and parody the desire to contain and isolate” (Mountz, 2017, p. 75).

Godfrey Baldacchino

Agius, K., Sindico, F., Sajeva, G., & Baldacchino, G. (2021). ‘Splendid isolation’: Embracing islandness in a global pandemic. Island Studies Journal, 17(2), ___-____.

Baldacchino, G. and Veenendal, W. (2018). Society and community. In G. Baldacchino (Ed.), Routledge international handbook of island studies: A world of islands (pp. 339-352). London: Routledge.

Banfield, E. C. (1958). The moral basis of a backward society. New York: Free Press.

Boissevain, J. (1974). Friends of friends: Networks, manipulators and coalitions. New York: St Martin’s Press.

Benedict, B. (Ed.) (1967). Problems of smaller territories. London: University of London and Athlone Press.

Bongie, C. (1998). Islands and exiles: The creole identities of post/colonial literature.

Erk, J., & Veenendaal, W. P. (2014). Is small really beautiful? The microstate mistake. Journal of Democracy, 25(3), 135-148.

Goffman, E. ( 1961) Asylums: Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. New York:Anchor Books.

Hirczy, W. (1995). Explaining near‐universal turnout: The case of Malta. European Journal of Political Research, 27(2), 255-272.

Lemaire, L. (2014). Islands and a carceral environment: Maltese policy in terms of irregular migration. Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies, 12(2), 143-160.

McLeod, A. (2007). Leadership models in the South Pacific. State, society and governance in Melanesia program. Canberra: Australian National University.

Mountz, A. (2017). Island detention: Affective eruption as trauma’s disruption. Emotion, Space and Society, 24(1), 74-82.

Perera. S. (2009). Australia and the insular imagination: Beaches, borders, boats and bodies. New York:Palgrave Macmillan.

Weale, D. (1992). Them times. Charlottetown, Canada: Institute of Island Studies, University of Prince Edward Island.

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The social universe of the inhabitants of small social units, including small islands, is riddled with connections. These include the obvious suspects – immediate family and close friends – but also a myriad of acquaintances, connections, former classmates and workmates. As such, this is common to all social actors. What makes these connections especially relevant in a small scale context is that they may be resorted to in the pursuit of needs and aspirations. The social universe of small scale societies is tightly articulated and inter-connected: it expresses the ‘ABC condition’: ‘articulation by compression’. Additionally, the social actors of a small social field find themselves involved in multiple roles, so that their role sets are likely to overlap and intersect multiple times. Thus, it is not exceptional to find, say, that teachers, lecturers and professors have their own children in their classes (leading to situations of, sometimes inescapable, role conflict). It is also possible to find that former schoolmates and work colleagues maintain links and connections over time: only emigration (exile/ ex-isle) is the best guarantor for cutting one’s links with such former contacts.

With such a tight social field, fuelled and nurtured by “particularistic relations” (Benedict, 1966; 1967) and “multiplex” social roles (Gluckman, 1955) where nearly every social relation serves multiple interests, the road to the fulfilment of needs and wants, including access to public goods or scarce resources, need not pass through formal institutional channels, but (also) through personal connections. This pursuit is not social class specific: only the nature of the connections changes on the basis of social class. The economic elite is more likely to involve politicians and their cadres regularly in advancing their agendas. But those from lower social classes will also build and (seek to) nurture relations with power holders, in order to be able to ‘cash in’ in times of need, or secure ‘spoils’ when they become available (Buker, 2005). Politicians thus accosted do often seek to please and satisfy their constituents, knowing that such actions on their part may secure the voter’s loyalty come election time. Thus is a network deployed: the network not being a technical assembly (e.g. a train network) but in its sociological sense: the sum total of individuals that are either known directly by a person (zero degrees of separation) or via another connection, as a ‘friend of a friend’ (one degree of separation) and known enough to be able to be approached with requests for favours and assistance. (Whether the potential patron accepts to deliver the favour is another story.) The power relationship can be vertical – involving patron-client linkages; but also horizontal, in which case some reciprocity of obligation can be expected. Barnes (1954) demonstrated that living in a small island society – Bremnes, in Norway, in his case – means that, even if inhabitants may not know each other directly, they are fully confident that their social networks overlap generously and therefore that various ‘third parties’ would be known to both.

Individuals in small scale societies build networks instinctively as they progress through life. The people that they ‘know’ well and well enough can be expected to be approached to, for example, provide specific information or expedite requests that would otherwise take longer to process using the normal and official channels. The intensity and frequency of such articulations are likely to increase when dealing with small democratic polities and jurisdictions, since the number of individuals wielding political power increases (Lévêque, 2020) and intense personalisation becomes the norm (Corbett & Veenendaal, 2018).

Social network analysis departs from the understanding that “the patterning of social ties in which actors are embedded has important consequences for those actors” (Freeman, 2004, p. 2). An early recognition of such networks and the role they play is by Bott (1957; also Chambers, 1958), followed by Boissevain (1974) in his research in the small archipelago state of Malta. This branch of social science has developed in a structural and empirical direction, using mathematics, sociometrics, ‘sociographs’ and ‘sociograms’ to explain, illustrate and conceptualise social distance, and the strength and robustness of relations and friendships.

An important and more recent refinement to ‘network theory’ is its representation as ‘actor network theory’: a conceptual revision that sits within social constructivism (Law, 1992). It is meant to remind us that networks are not merely manipulations of individuals – much like spiders managing their intricate web, a common but partial metaphor for networks – but also comprise actions and encounters that influence and mould these same individuals. ‘ANT’ speculates that we – as social beings and personalities – are largely, if not wholly, the sum total of our relationships. No wonder the expression goes: birds of a feather flock together. Thus there is a bidirectional, birelational and multiple flow of influence where and when networks are engaged: that of the request for the desired asset proper, and the addressing of that request; but also the influence of one party to the relationship on the behaviour and understanding of the other. Thus we, as social actors both shape, and are shaped by, our networks.

Godfrey Baldacchino

Barnes, J. (1954). Class and committees in a Norwegian island parish. Human Relations, 7(1), 39–58.

Benedict, B. (1966). Sociological characteristics of small territories and their implications for economic development. In M. Banton (Ed.), Social anthropology of complex societies (pp. 23-36). London: Routledge.

Benedict, B. (Ed.). (1967). Problems of smaller territories. London: Institute of Commonwealth Studies.

Boissevain, J. (1974).  Friends of friends: Networks, manipulators and coalitions. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. 

Bott, E. (1957). Family and social networks: Roles, norms and external relationships in ordinary urban families. London: Tavistock.

Buker, P. E. (2005). Buker, P. E. (2005). The executive administrative style in Prince Edward Island: Managerial and spoils politics. In L. Bernier, K. Brownsey, & M. Howlett (Eds.), Executive styles in Canada: Cabinet structures and leadership practices in Canadian government (pp. 111-130). Toronto ON: University of Toronto Press.

Chambers, R. (1958). ‘Family and Social Network’. Book review. British Journal of Sociology, 9(2), 186–187.

Corbett, J., & Veenendaal, W. (2018). Democracy in small states: Persisting against all odds. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Freeman, L. C. (2004). The development of social network analysis: A study in the sociology of science. Vancouver BC, Canada: Empirical Press.

Gluckman, M. (1955). The judicial process among the Barotse of Northern Rhodesia. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Law, J. (1992). Notes on the theory of the Actor-Network: Ordering, strategy and heterogeneity. Systems Practice, 5(4), 379-393.

Lévêque, P. (2020). Personalistic politics on Prince Edward Island: Towards a subnational approach to personalism and democracy. Small States & Territories, 3(1), 153-172.

Intimacy has been proposed as one of the four key dimensions of small island life (along with monopoly totality and exit) (Baldacchino, 1997). It represents the outcome of a tight social context, where individuals tend to know each other in multiple roles and contexts, and interact with each other in various such roles and contexts over a considerable period of time.

The same individuals are brought into contact over and over again in various activities and circumstances. “Different types of primary groups tend to coincide or overlap in large measure” (Firth, 1951, p. 47). Relationships are what Gluckman (1955, pp. 18-19) calls “multiplex,” in that “nearly every social relationship serves many interests”. Parsons (1951) has characterized such role relationships as “particularistic” because they are affectively and emotionally charged, rather than ‘universalistic’ ones, which are based on set standards and protocols that apply across the board and are not affected by (or are not sensitive to) specific personalities. There are strong, charged positive or negative attitudes between individuals involved in such relationships. They also extend over a considerable time span. Such relationships are personal, and are usually based on ascriptive criteria (such as family, geneaology), as against impersonal relationships, based on achieved criteria (such as certification, merit).

Societies of this type are characterized by what Durkheim (1893) called “mechanical solidarity.” In the small-scale society that one encounters on most small islands, the total social field is small, and most relationships tend to be personal. The standards of judgment in the role depend on who the individual is rather than what they do, or what expertise their formal qualifications confer. For example, in business, professions, and government, it is family connections and friendships that may predetermine positive or negative attitudes; sympathies or antipathies. Social interaction is thus not necessarily governed by legal-rational considerations, including clear and self-evident role performances as shop assistants, doctors, and clerks. Occupational roles become diffuse and blurred when they have to be looked at in terms of kinship connections and friendships; they are bound to ‘spill over’ and influence other spheres of activity.

For similar reasons, small-scale societies often experience difficulties in developing an impersonal, professional and integral civil service. The actions of civil servants are likely to be seen as either supporting or opposing certain politicians. The network of multiplex personal relations makes it exceedingly difficult for an individual to play the role of a neutral civil servant. They are apt to be forced into a default partisanship; or to be seen to be partisan even if they try their best not to behave so.

In small societies, networks are more likely to overlap; and mutual acquaintances are more likely to be discovered at chance meetings (Hannertz & Gingrich, 2017). Multiplex (or multi-pronged) relations abound, since people often have to play several public roles in order to fill up the personnel requirements of a complex society: whether in China or in Tuvalu, one still needs one head of state, one head of the judiciary, one head of the fire department, one head of the postal service, and so on (Benedict, 1967; Baldacchino & Veenendaal, 2018).

Given this intricate social field, citizens in small scale societies – including small islands – learn to survive and cope, but also to manipulate this social universe as best they can. Hence the resort to “managed intimacy”: “Small-state inhabitants learn to get along, like it or not, with folk they will know in myriad contexts over their whole lives. To enable the social mechanism to function without due stress, they minimise or mitigate overt conflict.” (Lowenthal, 1987 p. 39). There is also a tendency towards an instrumental approach towards the cultivation and exploitation of networks and ‘friends of friends’ (Boissevain, 1974). The only realistic exit from such a dynamic is exile (ex-isle).

Godfrey Baldacchino

Baldacchino, G. (1997). Global tourism and informal labour relations: The Small-scale syndrome at work. London: Mansell.

Baldacchino, G., & Veenendaal, W. (2018). Society and community. In G. Baldacchino (Ed.), The Routledge international handbook of island studies (pp. 339-352). London: Routledge.

Benedict, B. (1967). The significance of applied anthropology for anthropological theory. Man, 2(4), 584-592.

Boissevain, J. (1974). Friends of friends: Networks, manipulators and coalitions. Oxford: Blackwell.

Durkheim, É. (1897). De la définition des phénomènes religieux. L’Année Sociologique (1896/1897-1924/1925), 2, 1-28.

Firth, R. (1951/ 2013). Elements of social organisation. London: Routledge.

Gluckman, M. (1955). Anthropology in Central Africa. Journal of the Royal Society of Arts, 103(4957), 645-665.

Hannerz, U., & Gingrich, A. (Eds.). (2017). Small countries: Structures and sensibilities. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Lowenthal, D. (1987). Social issues. In C. Clarke & T. Payne (Eds.), Politics, security and development in small states (pp. 26-49). London: Allen & Unwin.

Parsons, T. & Shils, E. (1951). Toward a general theory of action. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.