The key worker brings up Martin’s breach of the non-acceptance rule at a team meeting: “This morning we held a meeting with Martin about the needle that was found in his room”. The finding of the needle is a strong indication that Martin supplements his legally prescribed methadone with illegal, intravenously administered drugs. As expressed by his key worker, Martin had explained that he had not injected himself at the hostel, and that there must be another reason why the needle was in his room. Perhaps it had fallen out of his bag? As the conversation proceeded, the key worker continues, Martin had finally admitted he had smoked cannabis and used cocaine as recently as the previous day, but he maintained that he had stopped injecting drugs.
Compared with the rest of the clientele, Martin, in his early fifties, is regarded as a relatively reasonable person who works hard to get his life on the right track, and who “has resources”: he is intelligent, he has previously had a regular job, he has children, and he is in touch with his ex-wife. Still, as evident from his relapse, he is perceived as more fragile than most others and therefore in dire need of help and support.
Against this background, the staff agree relatively harmoniously that Martin lives up to the image of a resident who fits into this institutional
setting – as opposed to Simon, who is considered to be better off at another kind of institution. Martin’s case constitutes, with a term from Lipsky, an example of “creaming”: faced with more clients than they can attend to in a satisfactory way, street-level bureaucrats are inclined to choose those who are more likely to succeed in terms of institutional criteria (Lipsky 1980: 107). Since hostels for the homeless have to live up to the law saying that residents should preferably move out to a more independent life, it is not surprising that staff make an effort to help Martin, who is regarded as standing a com- paratively good chance of doing just that.
Consequently, staff are motivated for fabricating a legitimate reason for letting Martin stay. This turns out to be that he is honest, admits his offence, and declares a willingness to cooperate with staff because such behaviour makes it possible for staff to forgive him. The fact that Martin does not actually admit an offence that corresponds with the ‘proof’ (a needle) is apparently compensated for by his admission of another offence (the use of cannabis and cocaine). On the whole, it is appreciated that residents are honest, confess their mistakes and cooperate with staff. The establishment of a confession-forgiveness relationship and its inherent confirmation of power relations, as seen in Martin’s case, illustrate a widespread way out of dilemmas related to rule violation.
Employing Foucault’s analysis of confession, the ideal user, like Martin, is somebody who knows how to play the game of truth and confess his mistakes to the social workers, who play the corresponding role of the authority who is obliged to forgive. The relationship is one of reciprocity to which both parts contribute, and is part of the processes of creating confidence. In this manner, following Sahlins, the relationship between staff and Martin can be characterised as balanced reciprocity: a relationship of give and take between trading partners. Simultaneously, it is important to bear in mind that unlike Sahlins’ definition of the ‘spirit’ in balanced reciprocity, the relationship be- tween staff and residents is never equal because of their asymmetrical power positions: not only have staff far better goods to trade with, they also define the very foundation of negotiations.
The problem with honesty is that when residents admit they use drugs or alcohol on the premises, a new paradox arises: such activities are forbid- den. From Martin’s case, and others similar to his, it seems that as long as
things are generally moving in the right directions – as staff see it – a single violation can easily be forgiven. Staff also have pragmatic ways of preventing the paradox from arising at all: by not reacting if they accidently overhear a conversation between residents revealing that they are violating the rules, or by not asking questions which could bring a paradox out into the open. For example, I observed a meeting at which a social worker appealed to a resident to be honest, and when he finally complied and admitted that he smoked cannabis, she did not take the case of a possible violation further – refrain- ing from asking if the resident had smoked on the premises or outside. The point is that ignoring petty offences saves resources, and that excessive staff control and sanctions may threaten their professional efforts to create trust with residents. Consequently, I suggest that staff sometimes employ a tacit consent of ‘pretending not to know’ or ‘refraining from asking’ in order to make their work function. These forms of actions may play a more important role in coping with the dilemma-ridden nature of work than is immediately apparent. The decisive factor seems to be that as long as staff generally agree that a resident belongs to the target group, it is not worthwhile to engage in labour-intensive processes of discussing consequences.
Both Simon and Martin were caught red-handed breaking the rule of non-acceptance, both of them confessed, and both of them therefore risked being thrown out: even so they were still allowed to stay. The two cases re- flect a general way out of dilemmas between rules and individual treatment: to produce legitimate exemptions from rules based on moral or, preferably, professional reasoning. As implied in the two cases, telling a person to leave due to drug or alcohol use is a considerable product of what Lipsky (1980: 13-16) calls discretion among staff about what kind of individual they are dealing with, and his or her potential for making and following plans, com- bined with the way hostel staff define their services.
Thus, there are several ways of adjusting or overruling rules in the prag- matics of daily life. In the above cases, adjustments were made in order to make it possible for residents to stay at the hostel. But, as will be evident in the case below, the reverse also happens: rules are adjusted with the purpose of getting rid of people.