The Milltown Boys at Sixty is a story like no other, giving both an insider and an outsider view of the 'Milltown Boys', exploring the nature of an ethnographic relationship based on research about their experiences of the criminal justice system.A group classically labelled as delinquents, drug-takers and drop-outs, the Boys were also, in many different ways, fathers, friends and family men, differentially immersed in the labour market, in very different family relationships and now very differently connected to criminal activity. Williamson has written books capturing their experiences over the fifty years of his continued association with about their teenage years; and twenty years later, in middle-age. This book is about them as they pass the age of 60, providing a personal account of the relationship between Williamson and the Boys, and the distinctive - perhaps even controversial - research methodology that enabled the mapping of their lives. It provides a unique and detailed insight into the ways in which the lives of the Milltown Boys that started with such shared beginnings have unfolded in so many diverse and fascinating ways.These accounts will be of interest to the lay reader curious about the way others have managed (or failed to manage) their lives, the professional who works with those living, often struggling, on the wrong side of the tracks, and the academic researching and teaching about social exclusion, substance misuse, criminal justice transitions and the life course.
This is the third of an influential ethnographic trilogy by celebrated youth sociologist Howard Williamson, who has been ‘on the case’ of the Milltown Boys, one way or another, for nearly half a century. This volume has all the virtues of its predecessors, beautifully written, humane and sensitive in its approach, granular in its non-judgemental portrayals of the ‘boys’ and their chequered life histories and thoroughly engaging. It is a deeply thoughtful account, but one that wears its scholarship lightly.
Despite its brilliance, testified by the flutter of favourable reviews, The Milltown Boys at 60 is not without a number of ambivalences. Any review Is necessarily selective and I have elected to reflect on four of them rather than simply repeat the well-deserved plaudits:
1. Why should we be interested in the Milltown Boys? 2. What theoretical or policy issues emerge from the study? 3. Does the trilogy offer the research community a useable model of practical ethnography when dealing with ‘difficult’ or inaccessible groups? 4. Is the account plausible, despite being borderline self-serving?
Learning from the Boys Whilst acknowledging the uniqueness and value of every human being, a locally-defined group of often semi-literate and casually racist juvenile delinquents from a sprawling housing estate the wrong side of the tracks would not typically merit sustained general interest except perhaps as candidates for remedial social interventions or targeting under the social justice system. And indeed, the initial involvement of their pal ‘H’ with the Milltown Boys was as a young ‘toff’ social worker hopeful of teaching them ‘life-skills’. Yet the ‘life skills’ eventually demonstrated, beyond a touching group loyalty, quickly proved to be those unremittingly geared to survival, without the attendant inconvenience of a social morality, so that petty theft was seen as a legitimate career choice. All this was made the more palatable to the participants by a convenient cultural mythology; the boys adopted David Bowie et al as their permission-giving patron saints (Eddie and the Hot Rods: ‘Do anything you wanna do’), elevating themselves to ‘heroes’ in their own imaginings. It was all rather sad really, particularly in the early days. Yet the sheer detail and perceptiveness of Williamson’s ‘taking us into their world’ commands respect and attention.
Policy-related research? Over time, the emphasis of the Milltown research evolved, becoming increasingly a longitudinal study said to be concerned with ‘origins’ and ‘destinations’ and raising issues like demographic determinism, the role of reference groups and individuals, the relevance of deviant career theory and the balance between agency and structure. However, a number of considerations frustrate the emergence of clear policy implications, not least what Geertz calls ‘blurred genres’ – the volume’s promiscuous mix of history, ethnography, autobiography and herd mythologising. Also, The Milltown Boys at 60 was largely written under Covid 19 lockdown and the conditions for a research methodology based on Glaser and Strauss’s ‘grounded theory’ (iterative semi-structured interviews and the coding of transcripts) were simply not available, particularly as many of the original cohort (sample?) were out of touch.
In the final analysis, very little ‘grand theory’ is vouchsafed by the study. What Williamson offers instead is nitty-gritty narrative research based on individual ‘cases’, while at the same time reminding us of the various theories and partial explanations circulating in this area. But these are used tactically as heuristic devices, and despite some local relevance there are virtually no convincing cross-case generalisations linking origins and destinations. Indeed, one value of the study is to demonstrate the paucity of explanations (genetic and cultural reproduction, scripts, policy interventions, transitional metaphors, etc) in the teeth of what seems an almost random diversity of outcomes.
According to Krumboltz and Levin’s usefully non-determinist career theory, individuals typically learn and adapt through a series of relatively unpredictable social circumstances, giving rise to a life/career progression -- including the negative ‘progress’ of the ‘deviant career’ (Goldberg) -- that is largely dependent on ‘happenstance’. It is partly a matter of luck (for example the economic boost from Mrs Thatcher’s sale of social housing that elevated some of the ‘boys’ to owner occupiers) although in some circumstances luck may be no accident.
Distant intimacy? (Gary: “You are part of us”) Williamson articulates a style of participant observation underpinning his Milltown Boys trilogy. Borrowing from Lauritzen, he calls it ‘distant intimacy’, although arguably the ‘intimacy’ is more evident than the ‘distance’, which is almost entirely a matter of intellectual detachment. In the literature, participant observation tends to be viewed as a negotiated professional arrangement which entails no obligation to cultivate cordiality, let alone friendship, beyond the period of ‘fieldwork’. The current study, on the other hand, is the culmination of a career-long fascination and preoccupation with ‘the Boys’ that morphed from a study of youth transitions to a longitudinal study that in several instances extended beyond the grave. It is hard to imagine other researchers either willing or able to follow the same route. Professor Williamson brought to the task an astonishing skills set that allowed him to move effortlessly between a bewildering variety of supportive practical and emotional roles, from reliable friend to prison visitor, from drinking companion to secular priest, from musical librarian to group archivist. Already a ‘Milltown boy’ with compatible musical and dress tastes (he claims his skinhead jeans were to facilitate riding his motorbike), ‘H’ had no need to ‘go native’.
The Milltown Boys at 60 concludes with comments on a loose range of topics, the final one being ‘Thoughts about Me’. Given that Williamson must be aware how very special his achievements have been in the area of research relationships, a degree of immodesty might be suspected, particularly as one or two of the successes are milked as enhanced anecdotes, particularly the account of his oration at Marty’s funeral, perhaps the leading example of Williamson’s consummate social skills in working class environments, perfect in its pitch. One is reminded of Matthew 16, verse 16 in which Jesus asks his disciples, “And whom do you say that I am?”
Overall, I found it an admirable and very plausible narrative, although it would have been nice to have had a more nuanced account, more evidence of direct confrontation with the hints of toxic masculinity and domestic violence, and a greater willingness to treat the whole shoot as requiring counter-intuitive insights from the perspective of group psychology. I would also be interested in learning more of the process by which the ‘boys’ abandoned what must have been their initial default position that educated do-gooders entering impoverished environments are fair game for opportunist exploitation and how they came to form deep and lasting reciprocal friendships with ‘H’ that commanded loyalty as well as respect.