The Per Capita Media Class Survey: Experiences of Class and Socioeconomic Disadvantage at Cambridge

Introduction

It is a basic argument in the literature that social class is inherently relational. In ‘The Making of the English Working Class’, social historian E.P. Thompson famously wrote, class is “something which in fact happens (and it can be shown to have happened) in human relationships”. His words remind us that class cannot be reduced to issues of money or occupational status: it is something that exists between us in the very making of social relationships. It is in this spirit that Per Capita Media launched a survey to explore lived experience at Cambridge and how forces like class come to shape social interactions, academic life, and university culture.

The relational nature of class becomes particularly evident in environments like Cambridge, where students report encountering people from vastly different socioeconomic backgrounds for the first time. As one respondent in the survey noted, studying at the second-oldest university in the English-speaking world had “strengthened my class identity as I’d never met people outside of my class and background until coming here.” Another respondent wrote: “I had never really come into contact with loads of people from private schools before!” Most illustratively, one student reflected, “I have met more people from backgrounds which vary from mine in nearly every way. This has made me think about where I actually fall.” For some these experiences meant realising their privilege; for others, it was a stunning realisation of class difference.

As one student insightfully observed, “Cambridge has made me realise that how you experience your class, along with its advantages and limitations, is deeply relative to your surroundings.” For many, the impact of their class background only becomes fully apparent when they encounter peers who move through the world unencumbered by the same barriers. For others, it is precisely realising that others have faced these barriers which makes them realise their path has been walked with comparative ease.

Exposure to people from different classes is not necessarily sufficient to bring about this understanding: it is important to recognise the situated construction of social class as it plays out in the enigmatic uniquities of Cambridge. Cambridge presents students with events and environs that often amplify class differences – formals, May Balls, meetings with fellows, or simply the fact that one resides in historic, hallowed halls. Having myself moved to Cambridge from the council estate where I was born, I know that this can be an alienating or surreal experience.

It is true that those from middle-class backgrounds can also feel a sense of disorientation, particularly if they are first-generation students. However, shared feelings of unfamiliarity do not erase the deeper, structural differences in experience between working-class and middle-class students. For the latter, there is often a degree of inherited cultural capital – whether through exposure to professional networks, a comparatively greater familiarity with (or knowledge of) elite institutions, or a sense of earned entitlement to certain spaces – that can soften the transition. In contrast, working-class students frequently navigate these environments with a heightened sense of precarity, acutely unaware of the implicit codes and unspoken rules they were never taught, and cognisant that their working-class backgrounds put them at odds with this new environment – one that they were historically excluded from.

Class and Socioeconomic Background

Analysis of the Per Capita Media survey data shows that a significant 75% of respondents felt they understood the implications of their socioeconomic background more deeply after attending university, with 42% agreeing strongly. In contrast, only 13% disagreed, and just one respondent disagreed strongly.

Additionally, 62% of students reported gaining a stronger sense of class identity since attending Cambridge, with 25% agreeing strongly. However, 26% felt they had not developed a stronger sense of class identity, including two respondents who strongly disagreed – both of whom noted they had no sense of class identity at all.

It is significant that a greater number of respondents indicated an increased understanding of their socioeconomic background, but that this did not translate to a greater sense of class identity. While experiences of financial limitation, social exclusion, or mismatched cultural capital may have demonstrated the difference between them and their peers, not all came to understand this as classed.

One possible explanation for the weaker sense of class identity among respondents is the relative absence of working-class students at Cambridge in the first place. If those most likely to experience class disadvantage are significantly underrepresented, the cultural and discursive space to articulate or recognise class as a meaningful identity may be diminished.

Class is often felt most acutely by those who experience its barriers directly; for those who do not encounter these barriers, or who are surrounded primarily by others from similarly privileged backgrounds, class can appear abstract, irrelevant, or even invisible. Whilst these students may come to understand more the privilege of their socioeconomic background, it is unsurprising that it doesn’t result in strong class identification. As such, the invisibility of class in Cambridge life may be less a reflection of ‘post-class’ society than of the social composition of elite institutions, where privilege is so normalised that its structural basis often goes unquestioned.

The reduced affinity to class, or rejection of class identity, does fit broader trends. The potency of class – both as an organisational force, category of identity, and analytical tool – has buckled under the dominance of narratives of individual merit and social mobility. Additionally, the declining salience of class as a shared identity is reflective of broader social (not structural) changes. In an increasingly hyper-individualised society, class has become less prominent as a shaping force of identity and community. This shift has been further exacerbated by the loss of industries that were historically central to working-class communities, which once provided employment and a strong basis for collective identity and solidarity.

On Being ‘Out of Place’

For those students who did identify with a particular class, it is clear that this has informed an understanding of their social experience. 62% of students responded that their class had resulted in them feeling ‘out of place’ at Cambridge, with 18% believing so strongly.

Of those who felt ‘strongly’, all labelled themselves as ‘working-class’, ‘northern’, or ‘under-class’. These class categories were not selected but filled in by respondents. All agreed, or felt neutrally, that Cambridge has given them a stronger sense of class identity.  One student reported that they felt “socially isolated in terms of class and […] that Cambridge in particular has strengthened this isolation – Pitt Club, private school students, someone I know not being aware of what a bursary was.” Such experiences were forceful reminders of difference.

22% disagreed that their background had led them to feel ‘out of place’ with over half of them doing so strongly. All those who strongly disagreed labelled themselves as ‘upper-class’, ‘upper middle-class’, or ‘middle-class’, or did not provide any class with which they identified at all.

There is a compelling case to be made that whilst feelings of alienation are not uniformly experienced, they are profoundly shaped by socioeconomic factors and class background. The strong correlation between lower-class backgrounds and those who strongly agree with feeling ‘out of place’, contrasted with upper-class backgrounds and those who strongly disagree, is significant. Scholars such as Reay, Lehmann, and Bathmaker have demonstrated how class can radically influence experiences in higher education, and these disparities are likely to be even more pronounced at an institution like Cambridge, which continues to be disproportionately shaped by elites. The social, cultural, and academic expectations at such prestigious universities create an environment where class inequalities are magnified, making it harder for students from lower-class backgrounds to feel fully integrated.

For these students who identified as ‘working-class’, ‘Northern’, or as ‘underclass’, the transition to Cambridge involves navigating an entirely new set of social norms, implicit expectations, and cultural codes that their experiences have not primed them for. The elite traditions, the sense that “everyone knows everyone”, and constant shows of wealth, sharpen feelings of difference and require active learning to live in a space which can feel substantially alien.

Therefore, while there are myriad ways that a student might feel ‘out of place’ at Cambridge – academic pressures, a competitive culture, or simply adjusting to independence and new flow of life – there is a deeper transformation that must be navigated by those from working-class backgrounds that has strong social, cultural, and even psychological implications.

Selections from the Survey

A great number of students elaborated on the degree to which attending Cambridge had impacted their understanding of their socioeconomic position and/or class identity. Drawing on Bourdieu’s model of social class, and in recognition of how this model has become part of the way class is discussed, I have categorised a selection of key illustrative quotes under the headings of ‘economic capital,’ ‘social capital,’ and ‘cultural capital’. It is worth noting that these categories are helpful but not distinct: they are deeply interconnected and cannot be considered in isolation, as they continuously inform and shape one another in complex and powerful ways.

Economic Capital

It is no secret that Cambridge is expensive. It is a Cambridge rite of passage to be outraged at the price of the four random items you have just purchased from ‘Mainsburys.’ But it is not just the cost of the city that is expensive – the ‘Cambridge experience’ is built on exuberant activities. Frequently mentioned in surveys were cornerstones of the Cambridge experience: the balls, the garden parties, the formals – all things that make the ‘Cambridge experience’ distinct, and for many, desirable. Beyond these traditions, the cost of maintaining a thriving social life, with £6 pints, expensive sports fees, and the cost of eating out, adds to the financial strain.

The survey revealed that financial limitations were felt to have restricted one’s ability to keep up with social life at Cambridge by 42% of respondents. While 53% felt their social life was unaffected, 38% of this group considered the bursary essential to keeping up with social life, with 28% feeling strongly that this was the case, highlighting how for many the bursary is integral to ‘keeping up’.

This is, however, not to suggest that the bursary is a ‘cure-all’. 17% of total respondents report limitations to keeping up with social life and the belief that the bursary was essential to live the social life that they did have.

One recurring theme among respondents was the stark contrast in how people spend their vacations outside of Cambridge, which often showed as a marker of privilege. One student shared how listening to wealthier peers made them realise that the differences in their lifestyles were glaring:

“Watching my peers spend breaks on holidays and get ahead for next term while I work ten-hour shifts to support myself and my family, I truly became aware of how much our lifestyles differ.”

These casual references would often reinforce feelings of alienation:

“Oh god, so many people are so rich, and they don’t know it. They’ll casually mention a holiday home in the Alps or suggest food somewhere really expensive, and I’ll be very aware of just how much wealth they have.”

Another student commented,

“Whenever someone talks about travel… I’ve never left Europe, which is very normal where I live. When people talk about all the places they’ve been, I can’t really contribute to the conversation.”

The pressure of balancing paid work with academic demands was a recurring theme, with another student sharing,

“I have to engage in paid work, I cannot just volunteer… [this] limits available work. Money is always in the back of my head – I have to plan everything around it.”

These experiences highlight how the need to work during breaks deepens awareness of class divides and also limits opportunities to focus on academic progress or extracurricular enrichment, creating a cycle where socioeconomic privilege directly impacts a student’s ability to fully engage with the ‘Cambridge experience’.

One respondent reminds us that so much of Cambridge is built on the assumption that students don’t need to work. They reflected:

“Being expected to do dissertation research during the summer disadvantages students who have to work. I couldn’t attend my college’s event to celebrate students who got ‘firsts’ because it was outside of term time, and I couldn’t afford the travel or extra rent.”

A significant proportion of those whose social lives were impacted by financial constraints did not receive a bursary, highlighting gaps in financial support. For students from lower-middle-class backgrounds in particular, Cambridge can often create a heightened sense of deprivation and a complex relationship with class identity. As one student reflected,

“I still don’t qualify for a higher maintenance loan, so even my friends from disadvantaged backgrounds seem to be paying for lots more than me. I am still aware of my privilege but feel like a higher class is more normalised than the ‘middle class’ at Cambridge.”

This perception of relative privilege often blurs traditional class boundaries. For these students, it is unsurprising that a greater understanding of the limitations of their socioeconomic background might be gained without the adoption or confirming of any class identity.

 Another student poignantly shared,

“My rich friends assume that I can keep up with them financially while my poorer friends make fun of me for being more privileged than them. I don’t feel at home in either group.”

This ‘Cambridge experience’ then, comes to isolate a far wider group than those from traditional working-class backgrounds. As is the case with student finance, the Cambridge bursary system can result in a squeezed middle class, leaving lower-middle class students without the familiar wealth or financial support to take full advantage. It is easy to see how students can be left with a complex relationship with their class identity given the normalisation and expectation of wealth, even if they do come to be more aware of their socioeconomic status.

Cultural Capital

Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital has provided a powerful framework for understanding the implications of class for students at elite universities. Indeed, it has become something of an obsession in the education sector, particularly in efforts to equip less privileged students with the tools to compete with their more advantaged peers.

For those not familiar, cultural capital is effectively a form of social currency that privileges individuals with familiarity with dominant codes and for whom such experience has become embodied in certain language, mannerisms, and dispositions that are awarded and applauded by society. ‘Correct cultural capital’ can be essential for inclusion. One respondent, reflecting on the difficulty of “fitting-in”, confesses his struggle of integrating with peers who “take pride in their ability to balance highbrow cultural references and pop culture”. Another student explicitly reflected on these disparities, naming cultural capital and the fact it is “truly necessary in order to be taken seriously at Cambridge”.

Regardless of academic ability and the fact all have passed the same rigorous trials on entry, it becomes difficult for those out of sync with elite social cues to assert their legitimacy and seamlessly slide into Cambridge sociality.  Whilst more privileged students arrive at Cambridge equipped with this knowledge, or the confidence and sense of desert to obtain it, the nature of these unspoken rules can be disorientating for those from lower-class backgrounds.

One student describes this feeling when encountering Cambridge traditions such as formal dinners, all aspects of which were “completely foreign” to them. In my research with working-class people so far, I have found that the first formal dinner – often ‘Matriculation Dinner’ which celebrates one’s becoming a member of the college – sticks out as a poignant moment of recognising difference.

I still vividly remember my first formal dinner at Cambridge, when the Master of the college kindly explained how to use the cutlery. While the explanation was helpful and well-meaning (I had no idea), it made an already apparent divide impossible to ignore – there were those who knew and those who didn’t: there were the haves and the have-nots. More than that, it reinforced that there was a right and wrong way to use the utensils provided, and in saving the ‘have-nots’ the embarrassment of using them incorrectly it reminded us early on the subtle social consequences of not knowing.

This feeling is not reserved to the navigation of tradition and rituals: it can manifest in various aspects of ordinary life. One student spoke of the embarrassment that could come with mispronouncing certain words incorrectly having “learned through reading them not hearing them”. Ways of speaking are closely linked to one’s background and sense of cultural belonging (something addressed more fully in Han’s piece), so it can be deeply unsettling when phrases rooted in one’s geography or culture are judged as indicative of a lack of language proficiency.

It is important to highlight that disparities in cultural capital have implications beyond university experience and affect professional opportunities. As also demonstrated in Friedman’s excellent text, issues of cultural capital can have serious implications for gaining entry to competitive careers. This is something reflected on powerfully in Mary O’Hara’s ‘The Shame Game’ where she harks back to her own experiences at Cambridge:

“that I excelled academically was almost moot if I didn’t have the necessary connections or knowledge of the social codes, or years of inculcated confidence”

Here, Bourdieu’s concept of ‘institutionalised cultural capital’ is useful. Students from all backgrounds will graduate with [mostly] the same education, however, not all will have equal access to networks and specialised knowledge. The social status that is conferred by Cambridge degrees is helpful, but it is by no means a ‘leveller’ that can make up for different opportunities and socialisation. It is far more difficult for those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds to leverage their institutionalised cultural capital, without the cultural capital that makes it easier to make connections and gain important internship or mentorship opportunities.

It is not possible to focus on all the ways in which cultural capital determines experiences of fitting in or standing out but it is clear that one’s possession of cultural capital is central to this experience.

Social Capital

Especially in considering impacts of class and careers, social capital must be considered. Social capital refers to the relationships, networks and connections that an individual can draw upon to access information, resources, and opportunities. For students from privileged backgrounds, social capital often becomes preloaded with family ties to professional industries, and for some, communities based on private school attendance. Students from less privileged backgrounds must work to construct a semblance of this social capital, whilst managing all of the additional burdens that fall upon them as previously discussed. Failure to do so, as many responded, could be detrimental to career success.

Several students wrote that they had a very minimal network and few people in professional industries. One notable response was from a student who commented that “a lack of knowledge and connections to other industries” had shaped, and limited, their career aspirations. While they hoped to pursue a career as a commercial lawyer, this was because they could only envisage themselves in commercial law but because of limited exposure. Their knowledge of commercial law had been obtained through “events run specifically for disadvantaged students”. Although helpful experiences, the student reflected that they had not been able to give proper consideration to other roots – taking the bar, entering the consulting industry, or becoming an investment banker – because of limited exposure to these industries or people within them.

Several students discussed the spectre of unpaid internships, many of which are obtained through social connections rather than formal application processes. Respondents reflected on the frustration of “getting internships but they are unpaid” and battling “travel and accommodation costs for internships” – a challenge particularly pronounced for students from the North, as many internships are London-centric or Southern-bound. Therefore, while social capital is a vital element to success, it cannot be separated from the financial factors that make these opportunities feasible. It is all well and good to make a contact who can get you an internship, but many are unable to take them up because of financial barriers.

Research from The Sutton Trust shows that 61% of internships undertaken by recent graduates were unpaid or underpaid, with 40% of those who did unpaid internships receiving financial support from their parents. This highlights how access to internships is about more than just who you know: it is about who can afford to take these opportunities. For many working-class students, the combination of limited social capital and financial barriers significantly restricts their ability to take advantage of these career-advancing experiences that are often seen as essential for success in elite industries.

The importance of social capital is further underscored by the often-quoted question, “Where did you go to school?” This seemingly casual inquiry is a constant reminder of the class divide that persists within elite universities. For many students from state schools, this question feels like an immediate marker of difference – one that exposes the institutionalised privilege of those from private schools. It has become so emblematic of class disparity that the 93% Club, an organisation advocating for state-educated students, has adopted it as a central tagline. With a significant percentage of students at top universities like Cambridge coming from private schools, it is no surprise that many from lower-income backgrounds can feel a sense that everyone knows everyone from the moment they arrive at Cambridge.

Conclusion

Even just by reflecting on a handful of the experiences reported by respondents to the Per Capita Media Class Survey, it becomes clear to see that one’s class and socioeconomic background play a central role in how Cambridge is experienced, even if these categories are related to differently. It is not possible to fully unpick how these forces play out, nor precisely the differences between class and socioeconomic background in this piece.

However, it is clear that access to networks, cultural fluency and financial security play a vital role in determining who thrives and who struggles. The stark terms in which this is reported unsettles the meritocratic fallacy that Cambridge is a ‘great equaliser’ that unites us all under the Cantab banner. It is my strong belief that journeys up until Cambridge, through it, and beyond it are profoundly determined by class and the nature of one’s upbringing.

Although it is true that things like the Cambridge bursary, bridging weeks implemented by some colleges, and the introduction of a foundation year, go some way in making Cambridge a little more equitable, the university must reckon with the ways that it perpetuates class divides and contributes to social reproduction.

With so many students reporting difficulties and troubling experiences because of their class background, greater support must be given to the Class Act Campaign, Class Act officers should be included on all JCR and MCR committees, and a welfare tutor at each college should be identified and trained to deal with issues of class discrimination.

Processes of gaining financial support should be made less invasive, with many students feeling that their privacy has been violated and feeling ashamed by having to justify expenses when claiming hardship. The college lottery should be tackled – it is deeply unjust that the college you attend affects a great deal the level of financial support available to you. Bursary entitlement should be expanded to ensure fewer students face financial hardship. Events should be made to have smaller financial barriers, with subsidised tickets protected and introduced where not already. The careers service, and indeed individual faculties, can be doing more to dedicate resources to those for whom entry to careers will be most challenging.

There are but a few things that the University could do to support people from working-class and lower-socioeconomic backgrounds that would not require radical overhaul. If the university is to reckon with their role in making students from working-class and lower socioeconomic backgrounds more welcome, so should students.

Acknowledging privilege will not unroot systemic advantage, but in small ways it will assist in the creation of more welcoming and honest environment. Conversations around the importance of class and socioeconomic background need to become more common and the University and its community needs to listen more sincerely. If anything, I hope in some small way this piece, and those that follow, will spark this conversation.

Edited by Charlie Windle and Anusha Salhan