In our private lives we are frequently required to work hard to make ourselves feel what we want to feel, or believe we are supposed to feel: we give ourselves pep talks when we are depressed; we talk ourselves out of falling in love; we decide to let go and grieve over a loss; we work at liking our in-laws; we choose to have fun at a party. And at ceremonial occasions we adjust our moods as necessary. Functioning tolerably in the world requires an array of interior maneuvers sociologist Arlie Hochschild calls “emotion work.” Hochschild–whose 1983 book The Managed Heart established her as a leading figure in a burgeoning new field that has been called “the sociology of emotion”–argues that our feelings must at times be understood sociologically if we are to make sense of ourselves, especially since emotion work is now often required in our public as well as our private lives.
Hochschild, at 49, is a tall, brisk woman who exudes an impressive generosity of spirit. We met recently to talk about the sociology of emotion, the changing nature of work, and her new book.
A personal conflict of a different sort may also have led me to this interest. On the one hand, I was brought up to be polite and “diplomatic,” and as a girl I have wanted to please people. On the other hand, I value honesty–both with others and with myself. I’m still trying to reconcile the two.
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AH: If you mean the little pleasantries of life, sure. Like if someone says, “How are you?” and I say “fine” when I’m not fine but the relationship doesn’t call for getting into that, sure. Conventions like that don’t imply any promise of real honesty. But if you mean honesty in basic issues–honesty with oneself and with others–no, I haven’t resigned myself to dishonesty. No way. Anyone trying to live the examined life is going to keep asking themselves, “Am I daring to take the hard look at the truth of things? Or am I fooling myself?” The Managed Heart is about how organizations get into the act of helping us fool others and sometimes ourselves.
TB: There’s a passage in Kierkegaard’s journal in which he describes going to a party where he dazzled everyone with his wit and intellect, made everyone laugh at will, and then came home and wanted to kill himself.
TB: There’s been a rather adolescent rebellious strain in American culture that’s made almost a fetish out of authenticity and spontaneous feeling, as if there’s some injury to the self if you engage in social niceties.
There are several kinds of deep acting. Evoking images or fantasies that alter feeling is one. Another is verbally repeating messages to ourselves. “I’m going to relax and enjoy myself. I’m going to be happy today.” A third kind of deep acting is physically prompting ourselves–taking a deep breath, for example, or changing your posture, or loosening your muscles or closing your eyes.
