An Ideal Direction? The Nobel Prize to Peter Handke

Last week, the Nobel Prize for Literature 2019 was awarded to the Austrian Peter Handke for “an influential work that with linguistic ingenuity has explored the periphery and the specificity of human experience.” However, beyond his literary merit, Handke is well-known for his revisionist interpretation of the 1990s conflict in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Against a background of continuing tension in Bosnia, and with the Nobel literature committee attempting to redeem themselves after the 2018 sexual harassment scandal, it seems an odd choice to award the prize to such an adversarial figure.

From 1992 to 1995, war raged in Bosnia-Herzegovina – resulting from the breakdown of Yugoslavia. The war was between different ethno-religious groups who upheld competing claims to the same land, the land upon which they had previously co-existed in relative peace. The war was eventually stopped in 1995 through international intervention, although tensions remain in the country. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) was established in 1993 to investigate claims of atrocities. While the internationally accredited court found evidence of wrong committed by all parties in the conflict, they found the Serbs to be the main aggressors. Further, the court found clear evidence of genocide, specifically related to the 1995 massacre at Srebrenica in which up to 8000 Muslim men and boys were killed by the Bosnian Serb army.

Despite the ICTY clearly acknowledging the perpetration of genocide and evidence that genocide was perpetrated in Bosnia-Herzegovina, denialism and revisionism are still widespread. Sceptics claim that genocide was a result of international conspiracy, the numbers of victims were heavily inflated or that it never happened at all.

Peter Handke, the latest winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, falls in with this group of people who downplay or outright deny genocide. He even came close to conspiracy theorising when he suggested that Bosnian Muslims in Sarajevo massacred themselves and blamed the Serbs. Further, he denied that the Serb-led Srebrenica massacre ever happened and was invited by former Serb leader Slobodan Milosevic to testify as an expert witness in his defence at his trial in the Hague. Despite not honouring this invitation, Handke later gave a speech at Slobodan Milosevic’s funeral in 2006 in which he said “I don’t know the truth. But I look. I listen. I feel. I remember. This is why I am here today, close to Yugoslavia, close to Serbia, close to Slobodan Milosevic.” By doing so, he aligned with a convicted war criminal, gave credence to mass murder and proffered falsehoods on the war itself.

The decision to award Handke the prize has been met with outrage in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo and survivor organisations, such as the Mothers of Srebrenica, have called for the committee to rescind the honour. Internationally, the prize has been met with shock and confusion in some circles as to how the committee could deem it relevant to award the prize to such a controversial and problematic figure: PEN America, for example, released a statement expressing “deep regret” over the selection of Handke.

The Nobel committee work on the premise that the prize should be awarded to “the person who shall have produced in the field of literature the most outstanding work in an ideal direction” (Excerpt from the will of Alfred Nobel). While the term “ideal direction” is vague and open to multiple interpretations, it is hard to argue that someone whose work includes an essay called Eine winterliche Reise zu den Flüssen Donau, Save, Morawa und Drina oder Gerechtigkeit für Serbien (A Journey to the Rivers: Justice for Serbia), a pro-Serb revisionist work on the Yugoslav wars, embodies the Nobel ideals.

The Nobel committee are not ones to shy away from awarding the prize to someone controversial. However, awarding this esteemed prize to someone who is known to have denied genocide is a dangerous precedent to set. They are effectively dishonouring and disregarding victims of genocide, the victims of the worst atrocity on European soil since WWII.

I am not a slave

I am not a slave. I am not a trafficking “survivor” or a victim. I’m among the most marginalized and dehumanized persons in our society – I’m a criminal.

When I was caught crossing the border in Arizona at five years old, the border patrol officer questioned me and acted friendly in order to convict my smuggler. I lived with the guilt that this man was abused and imprisoned because I ratted him out. And what was the reward for my snitching? They put me in a jail cell, fingerprinted me and photographed me like a criminal. This is how the state treats border crossers, even if they are children. I have DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) status now because I came through “no fault of my own.” People with DACA crossed the border when they were fifteen years old or younger. We are considered “victims” to the extent that we fit the definition of “human trafficking” and made to cross a border when were underage. But we are still “illegals” and denied legality. Because of this human trafficking framework, somebody has to be a criminal, somebody has to be the “trafficker” and those people are my parents. The UN Trafficking in Persons protocols defines human trafficking, and they mandate that “traffickers” lose parental rights and property (our homes). From the time I was five years old, I knew that fitting with the human trafficking framework would mean destroying someone’s life and throwing my parents under the bus. Growing up I worked hard to prove that I wasn’t going to be a “moocher”, or a “criminal” and to prove that I was worthy of living in the US and having rights. I wanted to “earn” my rights, even if it was unfair. I’ve lived in New York for twenty years and I’ve accepted that I will never become “legal.” I cannot continue to live my life trying to prove myself and submit to people who have power and rights to decide my place in the world. After more than a decade of trying to be pure and innocent, it feels good to give myself permission to be flawed, “sinful”, and to be human. I’m a criminal, I’m a sex worker, and I’m undocumented. I never felt freer than when I decided the words and rights withheld didn’t mean that I was the problem.

I’m only 25, but I’ve lived in underground criminal networks my whole life. I’ve seen people commit fraud to move into nicer neighborhoods/apartments/schools by falsifying bank statements with the help of accountants. I smiled and told them that they understood what “illegal immigration” was all about. I’ve seen several marriage frauds from Canadian migrants, Hispanics and others. I’ve seen “illegal immigrants” become “legal immigrants,” and “legal immigrants” become “illegal.” I’ve seen teen sex workers, and teen drug dealers working to feed their children, their families, or to buy the latest video game.

Most violence comes from poverty and it usually exists interracially, within our close community, friends and family circles. These issues should be close to home for all of us and we should understand why most victims don’t just want to throw someone behind bars. In fact, most victims of abuse do not want to prosecute their abuser. Most violence is by someone we know, and the justice system demands we call police and start a legal case. This means that our social circles are often destroyed or split up and it becomes a life or death battle for both sides. As a victim of rape, and child molestation, I was treated like I was crazy for not wanting to go through the prosecution progress. I just wanted the abuse to stop and to never see my abusers again. Instead my parents, various counselors and lawyers forced me to see my abuser, relive the pain over and over again for an ideal called “justice.” That “justice” would mean my abuser would be behind bars, but most abusers (if they do see a day in court – which is rare), walk free anyway. Yet, no one seems to talk about or really care that this “justice system” is highly traumatic, has zero to do with healing, and consider that maybe we should stop forcing and coercing victims into this process. This is not victim centered, no matter who much the self-described “voices of the voiceless” continue to preach that it is.

Most people in underground networks, like the drug trade, sex work, or undocumented immigrants, have experienced or seen acts of coercion, abuse, fraud, deception, etc. Most don’t identify as victims. My parents, my people and I have worked in exploitative jobs, in the fields for less than $5 an hour, have been injured or seen extreme abuse, or experienced deception at work. I have seen my grandmother murdered by gang members, and have met murderers myself, my cousin who was a drug dealer and was in a gang was eventually murdered by police. None of my people get treated like “victims,” there is no justice. Instead, we are given fear, silence, eternal punishment, and even death. I would love to tell my story and prance around with the “trafficking victim” label, but it takes privilege to do that. There is no real difference between the lucky few that are seen and identify as “sex trafficking victims/survivors” and criminalized sex workers, migrants, and drug users. It simply isn’t true that sex trafficking victims didn’t have many options, or were forced, while the rest of us weren’t. The idea that sex trafficking victims (most of whom left the industry) are more marginalized than all the current sex workers stems from a hatred and dehumanization of sex workers. It’s epistemic injustice, the idea that there is something wrong with sex workers and that they can’t be trusted unless they’re “reformed,” and stop being sex workers. Sex trafficking victims are often placed on a pedestal, their memories of working in the sex industry are used to create training for police, to create federal and state policy, to create tech to identify sex workers and report them. Sex trafficking victims are used in corporate, police, and state campaigns to push for more surveillance, and criminalization. Sex trafficking victims tend to be white women who are US citizens. Most sex trafficking ads are of white woman with dark figures and dark hands over their mouths. Most of the sex trafficking awareness ads in hotels are written in English only, and the Department of Homeland Security/ICE is behind the human trafficking hotline.

Human Trafficking (the definition and the concept) was created by the UN, a collaboration of nation states and academics who study “underground populations.” The purpose was to protect “perfect victims” who shouldn’t be marked as “criminals.” The Trafficking Protocol/ UN TIP, the Protocol to Prevent, Suppress, and Punish Trafficking in Persons, Especially Women and Children is a treaty against “Transnational Organized Crime” and is one of three protocols, the others being the Protocol Against the Smuggling of Migrants by Land, Sea and Air and the Protocol Against the Illicit Manufacturing and Trafficking in Firearms. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) is responsible for implementing the protocols through laws, resources, and “anti-trafficking strategies.” I am part of the underground population, and my family, my community and I wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for transnational organized crime. I am both a criminal and a victim of the system. When I hear talk about “illegals,” “traffickers,” “pimps” and “criminals” I know that those are my people, and I belong with them.

We live in the criminal justice system, where people exist within a binary. We are either criminals or victims, “illegals” or legal, “trafficked/slaves” or “free/workers”. On one side is the idea of victimhood, purity, and validation from the system, on the other is the idea of a disposable irredeemable person who deserves segregation, a cage and the worst abuses the state can offer.

The binary vision of criminals and victims has created a convenient narrative to build a global police force where mostly white people have redefined “slavery” in a way that they’re comfortable discussing it. Slavery is no longer a systemic issue, it’s individual “slave-masters/traffickers” that the state and “legal” powers must subdue through their goodness and saviorism. Mostly powerful white people have defined what human trafficking is, the criteria by which to fight it, measure success, and win awards for “ending slavery.” International Justice Mission is the biggest anti-human trafficking organization in the US. According to Guidestar, they received around 71 million dollars in 2017. In 2012, Gary Haugen was awarded the “TIP Report Hero Acting to End Modern Slavery” by the US Department of State. An interview for the New Yorker highlighted that “Haugen believes that the biggest problem on earth is not too little democracy, or too much poverty, or too few anti-retroviral aids medicines, but, rather, an absence of proper law enforcement.” Haugen regularly preaches that the way to end “slavery” is to enforce “law and order.” Police, prisons, deportations, handcuffs, and shackles are salvation from enslavement. Democracy, an end to poverty, having access to sex education, contraceptives, and life-saving medicines is viewed as unimportant in comparison.

You can find human trafficking (mostly sex trafficking) organizations, that look like businesses in every US state. You can shop for various items that are marketed as being made by the hands of “sex trafficking survivors,” every purchase liberates slaves by investing into their “non-profit” that puts them to work for an undisclosed wage. These anti sex trafficking nonprofits work with police, and other criminalization institutions, and depend on them to get labor and advertisements of happy and “empowered” sex trafficking survivors working for free or a “low skilled” wage. Where I live, there is an organization called Restore NYC Inc. which works with a dozen local businesses to employ migrant “sex trafficking victims.” According to Restore NYC Inc., these migrant women are making around $1227 a month, which in NYC is barely minimum wage. Most of the money going into the organization goes into the salaries of the people who run it, to train law enforcement and create programs where criminalized migrant women are put to work. Sex trafficking can get federal funding but sex worker organizations cannot. Crisis Pregnancy Centers where people impersonate doctors to lie and mislead women are federally funded, but abortions are not. This is anti-women policy that dictates that women who “misbehave” should not have rights or have a say in what happens to them.

I feel uncomfortable with how much people accept the idea that millions of people exist without agency, people who are merely objects to be bought and sold, people who are incapable of thinking, speaking, or acting for themselves. When we talk about dehumanization and objectification, I can think of nothing worse than denying someone their free will, and their voice to speak from their experiences. It can be argued that free will doesn’t exist since we are social animals and we are all influenced by various factors into making choices we think we make freely. However, the discussion of agency within sex trafficking is very privileged. Powerful institutions decide that some persons are “free,” and people in the “legal” markets with legal immigration status are “free.” Because we are poor, marginalized, criminalized, we are less free, and therefore it is taken for granted that we don’t have free will. The analysis from these powerful institutions and moral crusaders never seems to go into how criminalization creates a cycle of poverty, or even how our inequality was created largely to benefit these institutions. When you combine this with the fact that many anti sex trafficking organizations are Christian organizations or missionaries, it becomes even more terrifying. For Christians, having a free will is what makes us human beings, it’s having a soul, knowing good from evil, it’s what God gave everyone that he made into his image. It’s the worst thing you can deny someone.

I can’t vote, and I don’t have full rights to anything. I have few options, and that’s exactly why my voice and my agency should matter more. I have more to lose from speaking and face heavier punishment for expressing myself and expressing my will.

 

Bergen Anthropology Day 2019

Friday 13. September, 12:00-16:10.

Tivoli (1st floor), Det Akademiske Kvarter, Olav Kyrres gate 49

 

12:00-13:00    Complimentary lunch (Tivoli, 1st floor)

13:00-13:10    Welcome and introduction: Ståle Knudsen (UiB)

13:10-13:30    “Mare Nullius? Sea Level Rise and Maritime Sovereignties in the Pacific – An Expanded Anthropology of Climate Change”, Edvard Hviding (UiB)

13:30-13:50    “Transoceanic Fishers: Multiple Mobilities in and Out of the South China Sea”, Edyta Roszko (CMI)

13:50-14:10    Break 

14:10-14:30    “The Rise of the Enclave and the Death of the City As We Know It” (Urban Enclaving Futures), Bjørn Enge Bertelsen (UiB)

14:30-14:50    “Negotiating Humanitarian Aid: Principles, Diplomacy, Compromise”, Antonio De Lauri (CMI)

14:50-15:10    Musical Performance – “Antro-på-scene” – coffee and cake

15:10-16:10    Panel: «Anthropology and the Sustainable Development Goals»

“SDG and Environmental Anthropology”, Anwesha Dutta (CMI)

“Thoughts on SDGs and Teaching”, Nora Haukali (UiB)

“SDGs – In the Search of Balance Between Practice and Research”, Salla Turunen (CMI)

“The Role of Religious Missions and Faith in the Achievement of SDG”, Marianna Betti (UiB)

 

 

Norway: the forced deportation machine

The return
«Sovereign is He who makes the exception», begins Political Theology, the classical work of the later German Nazi legal theorist Carl Schmitt.

And so at 05:00 in the morning of Saturday June 15 this year, police officers burst into the home of an Afghan Hazara family in the inner-city area of Møllendal in Trondheim, Norway. The Trondheim police was implementing a forced deportation order issued by the Norwegian police’s specialized unit for forced deportations, the Politiets Utlendingsenhet (PU) against the Abbasi family. Having lived as refugees in Iran since 1999, the Abbasi family had first arrived in Norway via Turkey and Greece in 2012. The Abbasi family appears to have chosen Norway as their destination due to the fact that the eldest son in the family, Reza, had arrived separately in Norway in 2008 and been granted asylum here. In Iran, it had been impossible for the children in the Abbasi family to gain access to state education: the court records in their case testifies to their having been schooled privately. Of the three siblings living with their mother at the Abbasi family home in Møllendal, only the eldest son Yasin (22) had ever been to Afghanistan. The rest of the family had been granted asylum in Norway in 2012, but the decision was rescinded the same year after their father, a shoemaker, had suddenly turned up in Norway in 2012, some months after his wife and children had been granted asylum. His asylum application was turned down in 2014. A verdict from the Oslo Magistrate’s Court in 2016 was issued against the Immigration Appeals Board (UNE)’s decision of rescinding the asylum granted to the Abbasi family on the grounds that UNE had not taken the best interests of the Abbasi children into account. The verdict reiterates that Atefa Rezaie and her children were victims of domestic abuse by her husband, who disappeared in 2014 from the small town of Ulsteinvik in Norway where the family was settled since 2012. Rezaie intended to divorce from him. UNE still maintained that the Abbasis could and should seek to re-unite with theirfather in Afghanistan. The Oslo Magistrate’s Court’s finding against UNE and in favor of the Abbasi family was however overturned by a verdict from Borgarting Court of Appeals in 2017. Unlike the lower court verdict, the verdict from the Borgarting Court of Appeals is noteworthy for its explicit lack of attention to the question of the best interests of the child: the verdict simply takes UNE’s claim in court to have taken that into consideration at face value, and rubberstamps UNE’s decision.
Yasin, who used to reside with the family at Møllendal in Trondheim, had already been arrested and detained at his place of work a few days before. There were even allegations to the effect that a work colleague of Yasin’s in a likely breach of Norwegian laws detained and held without access to a legal representative and incommunicado for five hours in order to prevent him from sounding the alarm about the impending police action to the Abbasi family or their legal representatives.
The Abbasi family’s neighbours at Møllendal awoke to loud screams and pleas for help in the street as the Abassis – the mother Atefa (54), her daughter Taibeh (20) and her son Ehsan (16) were forcibly taken into the awaiting police cars.
According to the PU’s own reports, Atefa (54) has a medical condition, which led her to lose consciousness at the very moment that police burst into the family’s home. The arrest, detention and forced deportation of the Abbasi family also vividly illustrated the stark distance between Norwegian police’s flowery rhetoric and actual practice. PU guidelines has it that children in families facing forced deportation should as a general rule not be arrested and detained before 06:00 AM in the morning.

Trandum and a doctor working the dark side
Trondheim police soon transferred responsibility for the Abbasi family to PU. PU had for the purpose of this forced deportation flown in a medical doctor, Gunnar Fæhn, whose private medical corporation Legetjenester AS in Trandum, near Oslo Airport Gardermoen, has since 2005 had a contract with PU to service PU’s detention unit for detainees destined for forced deportation to their countries of origin.
Conditions at PU’s detention facility at Trandum have repeatedly come in for strong criticism from the Norwegian Ombudsperson for Civil Affairs. In its 2017 inspection report on Trandum, the Ombudsperson noted strong concerns relating to the use of force against detainees at risk of suicide and self-harm, and the extensive use of security cells against such detainees, which included their use in the case of legal minors. In a 2019 report, the European Council’s Committee on Torture also criticized conditions at Trandum, especially as these relate to the extensive use of bodily searches and handcuffs, which the committee described as “clearly disproportional and unacceptable”.
Save The Children Norway and the Norwegian Lawyers’ Association have declared that the detention facility at Trandum, where children are reported to have been held for up to twenty-four days in a row, is unfit for children.
Fæhn, whose firm has since 2010 earned 16 million Norwegian kroner (NOK) from a contract with PU renewed without any competition in 2009 and 2015 and which expires in 2019, was in 2016 revealed to have published extensive racist and xenophobic commentaries on assorted far-right and racist websites in Norway, Sweden and Germany.
Fæhn’s racist and xenophobic online comments were not one-offs, but amounted to well over a hundred comments in the period 2012 to 2018. Courtesy of long-standing media editorial practice in Norway – a country where media editors are still overwhelmingly white and male – racist and xenophobic comments are not referred to as such, but rather euphemized as comments that are simply “critical of immigration”. And so Fæhn’s comments have been received as merely representing views that are “critical of immigration” too. There are also allegations against Fæhn relating to inadequate medical care for detainees and unethical behavior at Trandum. These include testimonies from a married female Palestinian asylum seeker to Norway, Mithel Ghaneem of Jenin in the West Bank, who had spontaneously aborted two days before her detention at Trandum in 2012. Ghaneem, who after her abortion had obtained a medical declaration from her local GP at Sandnes in Norway stating that she need to rest and recover for two weeks was still bleeding profusely when she was strip searched at Trandum, and forced onto a plane. Back in Jenin, Ghaneem was sick and bedridden for two months.
There had been no competition for the bid to provide medical services to detainees at Trandum when Fæhn got the contract back in 2004. After a medical check-up, Fæhn according to his statements to the Norwegian press signed off a “fit-to-fly”-declaration for the unconscious Atefa Rezaie on the grounds that “she had a pulse”.
In a demonstration of exactly how legitimate and mainstream far-right dehumanization has become in Norway in the past decades, the leading national lib-con newspaper Aftenposten’s syndicated columnist, the sociologist Kjetil Rolness, implied that Rezaie, whose unconsciousness was caused by a medical condition well-documented by the court records in the Abbasi case had somehow “faked unconsciousness” in order to avoid deportation. It goes without saying, of course, that Rolness has no medical expertise whatsoever.
The government-aligned and conservative media editor Nils August Andresen chimed in from his observation tower in Oslo, and declared that “the forced deportation of the Abbasi family was well-founded”.
Since ordinary Norwegian airlines with reference to their own standards on ethics refused to be part of the forced deportation of an unconscious person, PU had by then chartered a private business flight from the Finnish company Jetflite at the cost of Norwegian kroner (NOK) 900 000 (equivalent to EUR 98 000) to transport the Abbasi family to Istanbul, where the plan was to transport them onwards to Kabul on a regular flight.
PU would later estimate the total cost of the forced deportation of the Abbasi family at close to 3 million Norwegian kroner. The chartered flight took off from the small town of Røros near Trondheim at 11:00 that morning, and first landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. After a second medical check-up of Atefa Rezaie at PU’s detention facility at Trandum conducted by Fæhn’s medical colleague in Legetjenester AS, another “fit-for-flight”-declaration was issued for a still unconscious Atefa Rezaie, and the chartered flight with Rezaie and her children took off from Oslo Airport Gardermoen destined for Istanbul Airport. By then, Norwegian online news media, having first been alerted to the case by the Abbasi’s neighbours at Møllendal in Trondheim, had started publishing the first news items about their forced deportation online.
By the time of the Abbasi family’s arrival at Istanbul Airport on Saturday evening, Atefa Rezaie had been unconscious for many hours, and the accompanying medical team consisting of a nurse and a medical doctor had failed to bring her to consciousness.
Clearly panicking, with the Abbasi family stuck in Istanbul and Atefa Rezaie still unconscious, by Sunday afternoon, PU in Oslo made the decision that Atefa Rezaie would be returned to Norway, but that the forced deportation of her children to Kabul and Afghanistan would proceed apace.
This decision was in clear and unequivocal contradiction with statements from the Immigration Appeals Board (UNE) in Oslo from March 15, which asserted that “the family will return together”. It was UNE’s final rescinding of its granting of asylum to Atefa Rezaie and her children back in 2012 in this statement from March that had paved the way for PU’s forced deportation order. In the rescinding order it is also alleged that due to the fact that Atefa’s son, Yasin, is “an adult”, his younger sister Taibeh (20) “will have a necessary and sufficient male network upon their return” to Afghanistan – in spite of the patently obvious fact that Yasin has never been in the country of his birth as an adult.

An unexpected turn of events
But PU had another unexpected surprise in waiting. When they contacted Afghan authorities about the imminent arrival of the Abbasi siblings, Afghan authorities made it clear that given the absence of the mother in the family among the returnees, they would refuse to accept the Abbasi siblings upon their arrival in Kabul and Afghanistan. It so happens that Mrs Shukria Barakzai, the Afghan Ambassador to Norway, have together with the UNHCR, Save The Children Norway, and various Norwegian experts on Afghanistan been critical of Norwegian authorities’ practice of returning unaccompanied minors to Afghanistan. Afghanistan has long been rated as the most dangerous country in the world.
People present at a Norwegian government-initiated conference organized to put further pressure on “third-world countries” to co-operate with a Norwegian government extremely keen to increase the number of deportations in 2016 had there witnessed Mrs Barakzai making it perfectly clear to Norway’s most far-right cabinet minister, Mrs Sylvi Listhaug of the populist right-wing Progress Party in government in Norway since 2013, that she stood for human rights and was not willing to accept the Norwegian government’s extortion tactics on the matter.
To be lectured on human rights and international refugee law by the Afghan Ambassador to Norway predictably proved too much for a governing populist right-wing Progress Party which since its breakthrough election in 1987 has instrumentalized Islamophobia and anti-immigration sentiment in Norway.
In response to Afghan authorities’ refusal to accept the Abbasi siblings back, Progress Party’s MP and Spokesperson on immigration and integration Mr Jon Hegheim promptly issued threats to cut all Norwegian development aid to Afghanistan as a form of revenge from the Norwegian right-wing government.
It is not as if Norwegian authorities are unaware of the fact that Afghanistan is an extremely dangerous country: official travel advice available from the Conservative Party-controlled Ministry of Foreign Affairs at the time of the forced deportation of the Abbasi family still had it that “any travel or stay in Afghanistan is inadvisable”.
Norway has, in spite of its international reputation as a beacon of human rights, peace and prosperity, under a right-wing coalition government now in power since 2013 become something of a world leader in forced deportations of minor unaccompanied children to Afghanistan. It is also well documented by now that a number of Afghans who have under the present government been forcibly deported to Afghanistan have in fact been killed after their return to an Afghanistan, which UNE and Norwegian authorities have declared to be sufficiently safe to return people to. Such was the case of an Afghan father of three who applied for asylum in Norway in November 2015 but was deported in August 2016 after his asylum application was rejected. Faiz was found killed in Afghanistan in February 2017, leaving behind a widow and three children.

The far-right drift of Norwegian politics
There is of course an intrinsic and state-generated logic to all of this. Under the present right-wing government, the Ministry of Justice and Preparedness, a cabinet ministry under the control of the populist right-wing Progress Party since 2013, assumed powers of instruction over the hitherto nominally independent UNE under then Justice Minister Sylvi Listhaug in response to the global refugee crisis in 2015. In the Abbasi case, as in an increasing number of asylum cases, so-called “immigration-regulating concerns” now trump all humanitarian concerns, including the best interests and rights of children. The Norwegian right-wing government is very proud of the forced deportation quotas that it sets for PU, and Progress Party cabinet ministers are regularly seen posing for willing Norwegian media cameras outside the Trandum detention facility near Oslo Airport Gardermoen, especially ahead of Norwegian elections.
Through the Abbasi case, and in spite of a spiraling number of civilian casualties from political violence and terror, and recommendations from the UNHCR, UNE and its research unit Landinfo, which is generally staffed by generalist academics with no actual experience from Afghanistan let alone command of Afghan languages, have maintained that Kabul is a sufficiently safe area to return Afghan asylum seekers to. The often violent persecution and discrimination of Shia Muslim Hazaras like the Abbasi in Afghanistan, is hardly ever taken into account by UNE. In its final rescinding of the Abassi family’s right to remain in Norway, a female legal official tasked with deciding the case even contradicts standard textbook definitions of terrorism by arguing that “none of the main actors in the conflict in Afghanistan direct their attacks primarily against civilians” [sic]. The court records in the Abbasi case provides a long and sustained archive of refugee children being brutalized, and severely scarred mentally and physically by a Norwegian state hellbent on closing its borders to them and people like them. Courtesy of Norway having had anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant populist right-wingers in government power since 2013 and effectively in control of Norwegian immigration and integration policies since then, the Immigration Appeals Board (UNE) has also been stuffed with members nominated by far-right civil society organizations with close links to the Progress Party, such as the state and government-funded far-right and Islamophobic Human Rights Service (HRS).
Among the members of UNE appointed by the HRS, we find the Progress Party politician and writer on Document.no Trond Ellingsen, who in the context of Steve Bannon’s recent visit to Norway and appearance at an event organized by the Norwegian right-wing extremist and terrorist Anders Behring Breivik’s former favourite far-right website Document.no introduced himself as a “close friend of Fjordman”.
“Fjordman”, aka Peder Are Nøstvold Jensen, is also known as the Norwegian far-right counter-jihadist blogger whose online writings provided the main inspiration for Behring Breivik.
So where are Norwegian anthropologists in all of this? A few exceptions apart, they have for the most part maintained a studied silence in the face of the Abbasi case, as they have in the ongoing far-right drift and mainstreaming of far-right ideas and sentiments in Norwegian politics since 2009. The anthropologists involved in migration studies in Norway are relatively few, far between and politically marginal under the current right-wing hegemonic constellation. There are however exceptions. At a government-funded integration conference initiated by the then Minister of Justice and Preparedness Sylvi Listhaug, Prof Emerita Unni Wikan from the University of Oslo, who has in recent years in several interviews and essays quite incorrectly alleged that she was in the context of integration debates in Norway described as a “Nazi” even appeared as a keynote speaker, and was duly photographed sitting alongside Sylvi Listhaug and Kjetil Rolness, whilst being described by the far-right Listhaug as “my favourite academic”.
In the Abbasi case, both the governing parties and the main opposition party, the social democratic Labour Party have been conspicuously silent about the brutal practical effect of political measures they have for the most part all long supported. The two minor left-wing parties (SV and Rødt) and the Green Party MDG apart, there is no reason to think that dominant political parties in Norway will cease competing over which party can market itself as having the strictest immigration and integration policy of all in Norway. At Trandum, Gunnar Fæhn has now been reported to the Norwegian Medical Association’s Board on Ethics. They may of course choose to censure him over his conduct in the Abbasi case, but as long as he has the support of PU and the Norwegian right-wing government, there is no reason to think that he will face any professional consequences. Since implementing the EU’s directive on the return of asylum seekers, the Norwegian state has pledged to establish an independent body tasked with oversight over Norway’s forced deportation machinery. In spite of Norway having being repeatedly rebuked by the EU for its failure to act on this, such an oversight body is still not in place, and the current Norwegian right-wing government has now instead suggested a body located at Trandum and under the direct control of Norwegian authorities.

The forced deportation machine and the myth of Norwegian exceptionalism
Norway formed part of the NATO-led ISAF Forces, which have been present in Afghanistan since the invasion of Afghanistan in response to al-Qaida’s terrorist attacks on the USA in September 11 2001, and the Afghan Taliban government’s refusal to expel al-Qaida from Afghanistan in the wake of these terrorist attacks. As part of the ISAF Forces, Norway controlled the Faryab Province in Afghanistan, and before Norway’s withdrawal from the province in 2012 in the period 2005 to 2012 committed a total of 20 billion Norwegian kroner and 9000 Norwegian soldiers to the ISAF Forces in Afghanistan. Several Norwegian soldiers were killed in Faryab Province and there were also instances in which Norwegian soldiers killed Afghan civilians. The Norwegian ISAF Forces were gradually forced into a tactical alliance with the Faryab Afghan warlord Nizamuddin Qaisari, allied to the Uzbek warlord and war criminal Abdulrashid Dostum. In developments documented by the Norwegian war reporter and documentary filmmaker Anders Sømme Hammer (1977 -) large parts of Faryab Province has since fallen under the control of Taliban.
The Shia Muslim Hazara Abbasi family was originally from the central Afghan Uruzgan province, and had prior to their flight from Afghanistan to Iran in 1999 reportedly also lived in the Afghan capital of Kabul.
In the current context, in which a number of countries, and not the least the USA, have introduced measures to forcibly detain, surveil and deport immigrants and refugees,
which routinizes what Hannah Arendt memorably (if incorrectly in the actual case of Adolf Eichmann) characterized as the “banality of evil” in the name of the interests of Schmittian logics, the case of the forced deportation of the Abbasi family from Norway once more demonstrates that Norway and Norwegians are by no means as “exceptional” when it comes to the intertwined legacies of racism and colonialism as many both nationally and internationally like to think that Norway and Norwegians are. Democracy and human rights die slowly and from within – in Norway as in any other country.

Call for Papers: The Illicit Global Economy Discourse

Special Issue of Public Anthropologist

Guest Editors: Luigi Achilli and Gabriella Sanchez (European University Institute)

In the contemporary literature on transnational organized crime it is common to find references to how criminal actors – from migrant smugglers to drug traffickers to weapons dealers – have hijacked the global economy, creating in the process a criminal underworld that is swiftly bypassing, challenging, corrupting, and subverting state controls and authorities. Most disturbingly these criminal entities, we are told, are converging –in other words, they are building bridges with one another, putting at risk (western) ways of life.

These claims have been the subject of criticism. Scholars have labeled them as ahistorical (Andreas 2012), as not reflective of the dynamics of criminal markets (Zhang 2009), as privileging law enforcement perspectives (Baird and van Liempt 2016), and even as imperialistic (Kalifa 2019). The reliance on statistics and numbers pervasive in the organized crime literature has also been criticized for how it seeks to instill a sense of impending doom, in the process justifying criminalization and enforcement responses (Engle-Merry 2016).

These critiques are important for they have shown the importance of examining crime and criminalization processes contextually, and that of scrutinizing the sources of criminological data. Yet while legitimate and important, they must also be dissected. Much of the research on organized crime is not based on empirical work. Other draws solely from official records or sources or is merely reflective of enforcement trends without being critical of the state’s role in the production of data. Other work, claiming that criminal markets are inherently difficult and dangerous to access continue to privilege the perspectives of elite informants (law enforcement, policy makers, other academics and/or professional experts), in a sense re-enforcing the boundaries that situate only professional or formally educated knowledges as legitimate or important. And while critical examinations into the illicit global economy do exist, they often remain silent on the ways they themselves rely upon, endorse or reproduce state-centric narratives of crime, how they perpetuate the labeling of specific bodies as criminal, and of their own reliance on exclusionary and extractive research methods and dissemination practices.

We agree with the scholars who have called for ethnographic engagements as a corrective to the abstract nature of many theoretical assumptions about the ‘dark-side of globalization’ (see for example, Vigh and Sausdal 2018). As anthropologists, we do believe that a critical engagement with contemporary scholarship on illicit markets does require theoretical and ethnographic examinations of social and community dimensions. But it increasingly demands a more critical, reflexive reflection of how knowledge continues to be produced and disseminated and whose roles/views positions it privileges. Without this approach, any contribution intended to critically engage with the so-called threat of organized crime is at risk of remaining on the launching pad. Furthermore, because organized crime continues to be depicted as deeply enmeshed within ethnic, racial, class and gender categories, it is also fundamental to critically engage with its scholarship, examining the places and spaces where it emerges, but most importantly whose gaze it reflects. Any body of scholarship that claims that the clandestine nature of the subject it explores precludes access to its actors –in this case, those whose actions have earned them a spot in the contemporary criminal pantheon as racialized and gendered smugglers, traffickers, cartel operatives, gang members, militias and else—must be rendered suspect.

For this special issue of Public Anthropologist, we seek pieces that empirically re-energize the important yet stagnant conversation on the critique of the illicit global economy discourse. We welcome contributions that articulate an empirical challenge to dominant, official narratives concerning illicit or organized crime and their actors, whose depictions often remain narrowed to dramatic, sensationalistic representations of ethnic cartels, mafias, militias or gangs. In so doing we seek to articulate a much larger question about the role of contemporary crime control regimes at criminalizing transnational/translocal practices. We want to uncover how ordinary activities have changed or have been changed amid global trends of securitization.

All authors will have a common point of departure: the rendering of the categories that define or classify specific practices as illicit and criminal as suspect, and the need to rethink and reframe them critically amid contemporary global law enforcement regimes. A distinctive element of the contributions must be their reliance on primary data.

Abstracts not to exceed one page in length will be accepted until 30 June 2019. We are eager to bring together practices, perspectives and contributors from around the world and whose work tackles criminalized practices not often discussed in mainstream crime control discourse.

 

Questions and abstracts can be sent to the guest editors, Luigi Achilli and Gabriella Sanchez at luigi.achilli@eui.eu and gabriella.sanchez@eui.eu.

 

References

Andreas, Peter (2015). “International politics and the illicit global economy.” Perspectives on Politics 13(3): 782-788.

Baird, Theodore, and Ilse van Liempt (2016). “Scrutinising the double disadvantage: knowledge production in the messy field of migrant smuggling.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42(3): 400-417.

Kalifa, Dominique (2019). Vice, Crime, and Poverty: How the Western Imagination Invented the Underworld. New York: Columbia University Press.

Merry, Sally Engle. The seductions of quantification: Measuring human rights, gender violence, and sex trafficking. University of Chicago Press, 2016.

Vigh, Henrik, and David Sausdal. “26. The anthropology of crime.” In Wydra, Harald and Thomassen, Bjorn, eds. Handbook of Political Anthropology (2018): 441-461. Cheltelham: Edward Elgar.

Zhang, Sheldon X. (2009). Beyond the ‘Natasha’story–a review and critique of current research on sex trafficking. Global crime, 10(3), 178-195.

Interview with Carolyn M. Rouse

by Sindre Bangstad (with Gard Ringen Høibjerg and Michelle Antoinette Tisdel)(1)

Sindre: First of all, it is great to have you back in Norway, you have actually been here before – only a year ago. But this project of yours, Trumplandia, that you actually started sometime before the election of Donald Trump as US president back in 2016, November 2016. I mean, I take it that your ethnographic location here is a trailer park in rural northern California, right? So for me as an anthropologist, that immediately raises the question of access. You know, you are everything they are not. You happen to be based in this liberal east coast enclave of Princeton, New Jersey, you have an African American background. So that basic question, how does one get access to such an ethnographic field, and what does it entail to work with people you don’t necessarily like, and who don’t necessarily like you either?

Carolyn: I often say of our discipline that we teach students how to ask great questions but we do not always have great answers. So actually, that is what I like to do, ask questions, but I do not always feel like I have the answers. In terms of Trumplandia, I had been studying African American racial disparities in health (Rouse 2009). And while I was doing that, of course, the data was coming out that there were declining white life expectancy in parts of rural America. In 2004 I think it was documented that white women in Appalachia had lost six years of life expectancy. Angus Deaton had just won the Noble Prize in Economics in 2015 and we were all in Ireland together and he was unveiling this new study he had undertaken, which was published in 2015 (Case and Deaton 2015). Now more data was out that whites were losing life expectancy in the United States. Deaton and his colleagues were economists and their first hypothesis was that “well, it is because they anticipate that they won’t get the same kind of jobs or make the same amount of money as their parents did.” So blaming this trend on declining economic deindustrialization in rural America. Getting rid of factories and outsourcing them abroad. But I had simultaneously been trying to make sense of white declines in life expectancy in order to make claims about black life expectancy. And what I was finding was that it is really not fears about the future. One of the outcomes of white racism in the United States is that in order to hold onto this notion that there was a time when white people were wealthy, particularly white men, was that you have to believe they were the smartest people, the most hard-working, and the most moral. So, all of these people I was interviewing in this place called Lake County (and it is not a trailer park. It’s actually a really beautiful lake where they grow a lot of marijuana) they were all from these white families who were middle class and upper middle class in the Bay Area. And from what we now call Silicone Valley, which is incredibly expensive. Almost all of them had grown up in families where there was substance abuse. But their fathers were able to hold on to their jobs because in the 60s the structures were such that white men with substance abuse issues kept their jobs, and there was no competition from blacks or Mexicans or Asians. They lived this middle-class existence. But then, in the 70s with feminism and integration, all of a sudden they were competing with people who were not like them. So their explanation for their falling down the economic ladder was the government. Because “I’m the most intelligent, I’m the most moral, I’m the most hardworking,” therefore my economic decline is because the government is giving all the resources to Mexicans and black people. Right? That is their explanation. And so… Part of what they want is the government not to support anyone anymore – kind of a libertarian idea. Because they believe in utilitarian economic theories, where the cream rises to the top in a perfect system. They really believe they will rise economically if the government is out of the way. But the government is actually the one providing health care, education, clean water, and safe roads. So they keep voting for people who are dismantling the government because they keep thinking government is the thing that is artificially inflating the economic profile of people who are not like them. Therefore, they choose to vote against the policies that are actually helping them stay alive. And part and parcel of that idea of getting rid of the government is this notion that “I need to be free. I need my guns. I need to be able to drink and smoke however much I want. I don’t even want to have to go to work.” A lot of them strangely see themselves as hardworking, but a lot of them are not. But some of them are hardworking, and they still have to live on food stamps, and they still have to rely on government support for their health care. So, they are voting against their economic interests because they really believe that white people naturally have these characteristics, and that it’s really the government completely distorting everything. And were it not for government, they would rise just like the cream to the top again. So, it is a very strange place. I went there to actually study declining white life expectancies. I started doing this before Trump was elected. And I was shocked. I didn’t know I was going to run into a lot of people explaining why Trump was “the best choice.” So, my interlocutors were telling me “Trump’s gonna win.” They knew! Right? They understood what the stakes were in a way that I didn’t. I didn’t go in there looking for conversations about Trump, and my subjects were prepped by my primary interlocutor. They were told that I was just coming to talk about health and health care. So they were schooling me. It was that kind of relationship. And there is also another thing about this. People who have racial ideas don’t see themselves as racist. Racists don’t look like Hitler (they don’t have the little mustache and everything). They don’t look like that. They really believe in their point of view. This is cultural. This is ideology at its best. And when they say things sometimes they’ll use Mexicans as a proxy. Instead of saying black people, they’ll say Mexicans, because I’m not Mexican. That’s a safe thing to say. “Those Mexicans…..”  But access, it’s not so difficult because most of the people don’t see themselves as racist. My primary interlocutor invited me to the area. She had heard on a television show about my work, so she actually invited me there. I did not have access to many of the pot places, she said I’d be shot on the spot. I mean this was before pot was made legal in California, so I didn’t have all the access.

Sindre: Now, this brings me back to this classical question. William Mazzarella from the University of Chicago is publishing a review essay about what he terms “The anthropology of populism” (Mazzarella 2019). In this piece, he notes that there really isn’t much of an anthropology of populism to speak of, either in the US nor in Europe. And I remember this, I think we were both at the meeting of the American Anthropological Association in November 2016, this was about a week after the election of Trump as president, and I certainly recall being struck by the shared sense of cognitive dissonance among my US anthropological colleagues, you know all the talk of “What on earth is going on here? We really didn’t see this coming” (Bangstad, Bertelsen and Henkel 2019a). I don’t think necessarily so much in anthropological circles, but there certainly seems to be some sort of reluctance in some quarters to admit that the world that Reaganite neoliberalism made in the US and in a number of other countries had anything to do with the rise of plutocratic right-wing populism in the USA. So what is it that anthropology can bring to the table of the analysis of this that other disciplines cannot?

Carolyn: I just finished teaching your book Anders Breivik and the Rise of Islamophobia (Bangstad 2014), and when I teach this book, I always say, if Americans had read his book when it came out in 2014, Trump would not have been a surprise. And I think that you have contributed a lot to the conversation about populism not as such, but as a set of practices around – again we are going to this notion of free speech – a kind of use of the public space to push ideas in a way that connects with pathos. But let me first get your sense of this debate about, or what may be lacking, or what anthropologists’ could do with populism. I know this isn’t supposed to be about you.

Sindre: You’re asking me questions now all of a sudden, right? Well, my basic assumption here would be that we have, for better or for worse, access to a sort of micro-perspective of, and the ability to sort of put ordinary people at the center of our analysis. So that would be one advantage in what we have to offer. Anthropology at its very best is also able to speak to the concerns of ordinary people, not necessarily in accepting everything that they say or take it at face value, but you know… There is a sense of grounded-ness and working from below rather than working from above.

Carolyn: Right, and that’s why my project was really to use ethnography as opposed to media as a way to really understand the United States. That’s what my Trumplandia is. Because my interlocutors were right about Trump, so there is something that they know that oftentimes doesn’t translate into the media. But again, I don’t trust people’s opinions, I don’t trust opinion polling. I don’t know why we do it. It distorts perceptions on everybody’s part. That said, I think that at a theoretical level anthropologists have a problem with populism, which is that we appreciate the intelligence of our interlocutors, but we know that what they say doesn’t necessarily mean it is true. And so, you know, Aristotle is right about rhetoric. Some part of rhetoric has to have some emotional component. Plato just didn’t like emotion-laden rhetoric, he didn’t like the Sophists. For the Sophists it was all about persuasion of the masses. Plato thought we needed philosopher kings to rule us – experts if you will. But there is a part of democracy that requires that ability to hear the voices of the people, at the same time that we check those voices. In the case of my Trumplandia project, another book just came out about Dying from Whiteness by Jonathan Metzl (Metzl 2019). He is a sociologist and doctor and he writes about all of the crazy… he saw the same things that I did. But one place that he didn’t go that I want to go, because I think in anthropology we allow ourselves to be humanists as well, is to do a bit more with philosophy. What I am doing with this work on whiteness and Trumplandia is really thinking about how we cannot have both social justice and rational – I’m going to use a Marxian term – rational bourgeoisie capitalism. The kind of capitalism that’s really rough. In America it is rough. Social inequality is vicious. We don’t have a safety net, so it’s vicious. We can’t have a capitalist system that operates where you have to have a class of people that you so dehumanize, that you feel okay about the fact that they live in the kinds of conditions that I see my interlocutors. Whether they are in white rural America or black and Hispanic South Central Los Angeles, How have we created such an awful economic system that Americans can literally see certain kinds of poverty and exclusions? We have schools in New Jersey where the fountains are covered with plastic because the water is so toxic the students can’t drink the water – and we keep talking about cutting taxes for the wealthy. That’s how bad it is in my country. I am sure you have heard about Flint, Michigan – about the water. It’s not just Flint, it’s all over poor neighborhoods in the United States. Our economic system has become so vicious that when I look at my interlocutors in Lake County, for me the question is: How can we create a better redistributive system? And one that doesn’t involve an industrial revolution kind of economy. I mean already we have enough junk. We don’t need any more junk. We can produce junk really rapidly, but we’re not a hundred and fifty years ago. We need to start focusing our economy on care as opposed to things, an economy of care as opposed to an economy of things. Because there is a lot of work that we need to do. I interviewed a number of home health aids in my Trumplandia project. They make minimum wage. Then every time a business is sold or reorganizes, these people who worked ten years they are back to making minimum wage, which was one time nine dollars per hour which translates to nothing in the United States. They were living, these two women I knew, living in this tiny rental in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Oroville. When I interviewed them they had literally three dollars between them until their next paycheck, and they were so happy to get my research subjects compensation for participation in my study. These people are caring for sick elderly people and they are making so little money that they can’t even feed themselves at the end of every month. So how did we create an economy where people who don’t actually produce anything (financial investors for example) make a lot of money, and people who are taking care of others make barely anything? How can we recreate a system where we are less focused on somebody making more junk for us that we don’t need that is destroying the environment, and how can we shift that to paying people living wages for doing things that actually matter – which is caring for each other.

Sindre: You are starting to sound like a Norwegian social democrat here… Or a “Communist” as I suppose they are known as in the US.

Carolyn: Can I defect? Can I become an expat in Norway?

Bangstad: I organized a double roundtable on what I termed the politics of affect. The anthropology of populism, at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association in Washington DC back in 2017 (Bangstad, Bertelsen and Henkel 2019b). Now, in that roundtable I was as an organizer struck by the fact that my US colleagues would much more readily opt for the analytical optics related to “race” than their European counterparts. In other words, anthropological colleagues who were working on this material in the US would it seemed at least, accord primacy to “race,” whereas their European counterparts would prefer to talk about this in the language of class and social economics. And that, of course, raises specific questions in the Norwegian context. For we have learned by now that “race” is a social construction, but that even so, “race” is real in its material consequences, right, and “racialized” thinking persists. We agree here in Norway that it is not a good idea to talk about “race” at all, and would like to pretend that such a thing doesn’t exist and that there is consequently no problem relating to racialized discourses in a country like Norway. In Norwegian anthropology, the interesting thing is of course that we learn this, any normal anthropologist also learned this in the course of 1960s and 70s with Barth and his Ethnic Groups and Boundaries (Barth 1969) – that we should rather talk about ethnicity, right? The counter-argument would here be that you don’t necessarily change racialized thinking simply by substituting one term for another (Hall 2018). And if we look at the far-right in Europe these days, they talk about ethnicity, and even with Norwegian neo-Nazis in the 1990s, who were really violent and they were racists, they learned to speak about “ethnicity” and “culture” rather than “race,” as do all the world’s “Identitarians” and “Alt-righters” these days (Zúquete 2018). But is there some way of bridging these analytical optics so that we don’t get into a situation where it becomes impossible to talk to one another across these continental divides?

Carolyn: I taught a seminar at the School of Criticism and Theory at Cornell a couple of summers ago, and it was a course called “A Case Against Reparations: Rethinking Social Justice for the 21st Century.” And it’s complicated, but all my work has gotten me to that point – and maybe we’ll talk about that later – but I had a class full of advanced PhD students and assistant professors, and literally they split down the middle. There were the class folks and then the “race,” post-coloniality folks. And they could not find common ground. I was saying to myself “Isn’t it both? Why can’t you find common ground?” But it is really fascinating how those discourses have gone in these separate directions when it is the overlay of both. There are a lot of things I celebrate about Pierre Bourdieu’s work, and one of them is his trying to understand the relationships between objective structures and subjectivity, and the kind of overlay between them. Bourdieu’s incredible study, the book called Distinction (Bourdieu 1984), about how class translates into taste. And what we see in this book, one of the examples is, he interviews working-class French folks and upper-class French folks about the kind of music they like. And the lower class, their favorite is the Blue Danube, and the upper class – it’s Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier or American jazz. So in the educational institutions, what kind of taste is rewarded with a degree? And praised? It is the people who like American jazz. Things have changed, of course. But the Blue Danube, the upper-class considered kind of low class, and people who liked it less intelligent. Bourdieu traces it all to peoples’ class standing and what they’re exposed to. And this is recursive, it reproduces itself. So when you create a separate group, let’s say immigrants in Norway – let’s use that as an example from the top of my head.  I’ve been using this concept a lot recently: schismogenesis. It is a fun concept by Gregory Bateson. It is a great term, schismogenesis. Schisms, genesis, generating schisms. Bateson describes it in his ethnography of the the Iatmul in Papua New Guinea (Bateson 1936). Schismogenesis is about how people differentiate themselves just for the sake of differentiating themselves. It is an emotional thing – you want to show that you are different from this person and different from that person, or like this other person. He shows how in society – even though people share so much in common – they just keep finding smaller and smaller things to differentiate themselves from others. This is cumulative and it can cause schisms, real radical schisms in small scale societies, it can cause radical breaks. I can use Chicago as another example, inner-city Chicago and African Americans. When you treat them as an exception, as different, as dysfunctional and all sorts of other things, you wind up producing the things that make you want to act out, make the young kids want to act out and be different and differentiate themselves from the people who consider them lowly, or who condescend to them. And I think about Paul Willis’ Learning to Labour (Willis 1977), that wonderful book about education in Britain where he writes about how working-class kids reproduce their social class because of the school system. The teachers are so negative towards the kids that the way in which they assert their identity is to differentiate themselves from their teachers by acting out badly, disrupting the system. So when you create a system where you’ve said “Okay you guys are different and we’re kind of suspicious of you,” they get that sense. They’ll start to differentiate themselves even more, and then those differentiations grow on both sides. And I think the literature that you’ve been diving into and reading, on the part of these feminists who think they own the enlightenment or whatever (for critiques of secular “femo-nationalism,” see Abu-Lughod 2015 and Farris 2017), they also produce greater and greater differentiation to the point where now it’s becoming…  Well, the New York Times traced a bunch of these violent white supremacists terrorist attacks back to Norway and Breivik in 2011. Nationalist discourses are producing differentiations for the sake of differentiations and the internet allows them to do this for free and rapidly. It’s a binary, a like or a dislike, a thumb up or a thumb down, and people are liking or differentiating themselves at a rapid pace now through social media to the point where everybody has forgotten: “Wait a minute, we pretty much are all the same,” right, at some level. So again, I think class, race, ethnicity, all these things produce these kinds of difference that then get discursively created into things that we think to be “real,” but they are not really real. So I think it is an overlay of both racialization and class, and I think it is a shame that we don’t do more to write about the relationships between class and race or ethnicity. But I don’t have any apt or great solutions.

Sindre: So we need to talk about free speech, right. You became rather notorious in right-wing corporate media in the US, by organizing a seminar some years ago at Princeton University where you teach, with the more than slightly provocative title “F#&* free speech.” And in the US context, of course, where there is arguably a much greater left- and right- wing consensus about First Amendment principles, as developed in the 1920s in United State’s Supreme Court jurisprudence. This would be akin to the proverbial shouting of “Fire!” in a crowded theater, just titling a seminar this way. And you’ve also appeared on this wonderful podcast entitled “Think About It” organized by Ulrich Baer.(2)

And Baer also became notorious by arguing that there was actually something to learn from the so-called “snowflakes” (Baer 2018). So if you could sort of stake out your position here in this extremely contested field, you might gain new friends in the Norwegian right-wing corporate media as well, I’m thinking.

Carolyn: I could always use more friends. Bannon, yeah I am thinking about Bannon here.(3) Yeah, isn’t that great? So, going back to the title. It wasn’t actually “Fuck free speech, it was F with some symbols… Free speech. And that is actually important. First, the title is oxymoronic, right? You wouldn’t use that term if you thought free speech was not important. At the same time, you’re saying – fuck free speech – right? But you don’t actually know what that means with F and a bunch of symbols unless you understand the context, unless you understand English unless you understand what the symbols mean [following in the F]: that’s a curse word. So it’s also referencing how language is contextual, or not comprehensible unless you understand the context. The title itself was very rich. Milo Yiannopouloses and all the rest of them, they had no clue. And they never saw my lecture. I embargoed the video of me doing the talk for several months so they actually never saw it when they started going after me in US right-wing media. They couldn’t read the title, they didn’t know what I was talking about anyway. That’s the depths that we’re talking about in a lot of this journalism. But it was fun. And my talk was supposed to be getting people to understand that there is really no such thing as absolute free speech – as far as anthropologists know. There is literally no sustainable society where people can speak freely in any space and say anything they want, and that is an okay thing. It just doesn’t exist. The reasons anthropologists know this are so complex that I decided to teach a course. I’m teaching a course this semester called Speech and Bull where I’m walking students through all of the literature we know. From the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis we know that even our language and our grammatical structures shape our cognition, or the way we think. The students read Sindre’s book and about schismogenesis. They learned from other texts that a secular democracy requires that the state allow institutions to be independent. You have law, you have medicine, you have religion, and you have education. A theocracy is one where the state determines in some way the final say with respect to law, the final say with medicine, the final say with education. That’s a theocracy. In a secular democracy, you have to let institutions control speech because they are controlling evidence. A doctor cannot just tell you, “I have this plant in my backyard, and I really think it is going to cure your cancer.” And they give it to you and you die. At least in my country, the family can come after you and sue you for malpractice, because you’re a licensed physician, which means you have the duty to give what we call evidence-based medicine. And if you haven’t prescribed those kinds of medicines that are proven based upon levels of evidence, then you open yourself up for lawsuits. In the court of law, you can’t defend yourself and just start shouting anything in the courtroom. There are rules, there are procedures, there are forms of evidence that can be used and forms that can’t be used. Religion, the same thing, you can’t go to a temple, a Jewish synagogue and start spouting off about Hare Krishna, right? That’s not the space for it. This is what a secular democracy does, it allows these institutions to be autonomous, semi-autonomous social fields. So when you have people screaming at educational institutions, to just let anybody say anything, we are undermining the legitimacy of the institution itself. Could you imagine being in a physics class… and I use physics because my father was a physicist, my brother is a physicist, and now my son is a physicist, so physics is close to my heart… Could you imagine my son having to sit through lectures where he has to really debate whether or not the earth is flat? Well, with social media, Flat Earthers are growing in number. In fact, there is somebody at Princeton who – my daughter saw it – is trying to get everyone committed to the Flat Earth hypothesis. We don’t have time for that. There may be a time where we can re-adjudicate that and maybe they will come up with evidence that undermines the idea that there are spheres in the universe called planets, but until then… We have also had natural social science experiments with slavery, Japanese internment, convict leasing, eugenics, and the Holocaust. Those are natural experiments. Did any of them work? What is the evidence for basing a society on racism and violence? Does that work? Is it sustainable? Well, do we as social scientists then have to keep opening our doors to relitigating racism? Really? Is that what we are going to spend all of this institutional money for when there are far more interesting and far more dynamic things to discuss to make the world a better place? Now, we can debate whether or not education is around trying to make the world a better place, but if making the world a better place is what we are trying to do – then there is no time to relitigate Nazism, right? This is my take on speech in the academy. They went after me without understanding what speech is, how it is used, how it is just another system of symbols like any other system of symbols: music, clothing, all sorts of systems of symbols. And when we speak words are not enough. It is also our affect when we talk that helps provide meaning. People also read our identities, our age and our gender, when they try to interpret us. Language is very complex. So anyway, I’m happy to go after the absolute free speechers at any time. I can’t believe your media was sucked into this, because sadly there is almost a direct line between Donald Trump saying horrible things about the media and some journalist being killed. Trump said things about protestors and then in Nigeria the government shot these protesters in December 2018 and traced it to Trump. I mean, speech is dangerous. It is not as though we can’t have these conversations, but the context has to be appropriate. In speech, being appropriate is critical. And it is not that it can’t be challenging. Academics are challenging each other all the time, that’s how we get tenure. We challenge each other, no one needs to tell us to be open to heterodoxy. Baer writes about this too, that the US Constitution has many amendments, many parts, and why should free speech somehow trump equality, which is also one of the principles upon which our nation was founded. Why should it trump other forms of rights? And again, even the constitution has a context, and to pull everything out of that context as if it could be understood alone, is – I think – a misreading. When people read the Bible and interpret the Bible, they read and interpret the whole thing. Exegesis is a science. We have to do a kind of exegesis with the constitution as well, that doesn’t just isolate parts as if they could be taken out of context.

Sindre: My qualified guess is that you have now won yourself some new enemies in the Norwegian Flat Earth Society. There was in fact one prominent member featured in a Norwegian newspaper only this morning, I noticed, so this is not unique to the USA, we seem to be heading onto that course here too. Anyway, we have taken a lot of time. It is a bit painful to me to have to admit that we won’t get to your excellent monographs (see inter alia Rouse 2004). But I am going to have to round off this conversation by a question relating to diversity in academia. Now, there have been black anthropologists in the US academy dating back to the legendary Zora Neale Hurston, and even before that, and there are quite a number of prominent African American anthropologists in US academia today. There is also the Association for Black Anthropologist (ABA) which is a subsidiary of the American Anthropological Association (AAA), and which has around a thousand members, and which has been in existence since the 1970s. So even if we know that black academics in the US are much more adversely affected by academic precarity under conditions of academic neoliberalism, in the context of Norwegian anthropology being for all practical purposes very white still, what is there to learn from the struggles and mobilization of black anthropologists and other black scholars in an increasingly multicultural Norway in the years to come?

Carolyn: I made a documentary in 2015 called Listening is a Radical Act: World Anthropologies and the Decentering of Western Thought.(4) And the reason I made this film was to think about the ways in which we cite each other, the ways we listen to each other, and to think about what it really means to listen to somebody else’s concerns – not your own. For example I work in Ghana, and these global health foundations just want to keep giving money to Ghana for HIV/AIDS. Well, HIV/AIDS rates are lower in Ghana than among African Americans in Washington DC or Milwaukee. And so these foundations are like “we think that should be the primary concern in all parts of Africa,” but why?  We shot the film in Cape Town with academics from all over the world to discuss how to decenter Western scholarly concerns. I’m thinking about Africanists in particular. The film includes  Paul Nchoji Nkwi a scholar from Cameroon who talks about how he completely discounts the notion of post-coloniality because he says, “We are all being colonized all the time.” When you are a child and you are being enculturated, that is a kind of colonization. Colonization is a factor of life. People can disagree, but that is how he saw it. In America, academics who write about Africa as a post-colony, they are the ones who are celebrated. But as a Cameroonian scholar his concerns are about kinship structures and access to state resources such as health care. But for American anthropologists, for instance, we like to be theoretical. So, the practical and the pragmatic is not of interest in America. That is changing because Scandinavian anthropologists are whipping our butts! They really are. So this is the thing, people who have different concerns get shut out of scholarly conversations. I work with John Jackson and Marla Fredrick for instance (see Rouse, Jackson and Frederick 2016), who are brilliant African Americanist scholars, but they’ve never won single authored book awards for their research, even though they are at Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania. My sense that this is in part because the way they write about “race” is not polemical, it is so different and so nuanced. But sometimes people don’t like that nuance, because even when I wrote about the health care setting, some people wanted me to write a book that slammed doctors for being racist. But I didn’t find that. I found it far more nuanced and complex, but that is not how people wanted me to write about black health disparities. They wanted me to reiterate a certain kind of narrative. Scholars of color need mentors, like you and others, but they also need to be able to have a voice. So here is the other concern I have. Academia is becoming commodified in a super interesting way. You know click-bait, right? So there are scholars who are now creating sort of clickbait titles for their work. Here is an example of one, Bruce Gilley’s “The case for colonialism,” which was a scandalous article. But you want to cite it, right! Even just to challenge it, you want to cite it. But when you cite it, it winds up in a Google metric called the h-index which some use to determine a scholar’s prominence and impact in their field. Tenure is now being tied to the number of citations one has, or their h-index. In terms of the h-index it doesn’t matter if people hated what you wrote and said it was terrible, your score goes up regardless. And so now I don’t even want to cite some of the articles coming out. I don’t want to legitimate scholars like Gilley. So, there is a way in which certain people have learned how to capture the imagination of the academy through this kind of selling click-bait concepts. And then some scholars are really good selling a term they created like a commodity. That commoditization translates into being considered “cutting- edge” or being important to the field. So there is a lot more than just trying to mentor people who are from non-traditional backgrounds, but it is also trying to get them to understand this academic currency, which is really complex and kind of strange. And so one of the things that I do, I was on the tenuring committee at Princeton last year, and one of my interventions was to reject the Google h-index as proof of the value of a scholar.

Sindre: Damn, there goes Jordan Peterson, right! No tenure at Princeton! We will have to leave it at that. Thank you very much, Carolyn.

 

References

Abu-Lughod, Lila (2015). Do Muslim Women Need Saving? Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: Harvard University Press.

Baer, Ulrich (2018). What the “Snowflakes” Get Right About Free Speech, Op-ed, New York Times 24.04.18.

Bangstad, Sindre (2014). Anders Breivik And the Rise of Islamophobia. London and New York: Zed Books.

Bangstad, Sindre, Bertelsen, Bjørn Enge and Henkel, Heiko (2019). The Politics of Affect: Perspectives on the rise of the far-right and right-wing populism in the West, Focaal 83 (1): 99-113.

Barth, Fredrik (ed.) (1969). Ethnic Groups And Boundaries: The Social Organization of Cultural Difference. Boston, Massachusetts: Little, Brown & Co.

Bateson, Gregory (1936). Naven: A Study of the Problems Suggested by a Composite Picture of the Culture of a New Guinea Tribe Drawn From Three Points of View. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press.

Bourdieu, Pierre (1984). Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Translate by Richard Nice. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Case, Anne and Deaton, Angus (2015). Rising morbidity and mortality in midlife among white non-Hispanic Americans in the 21st century, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 1-6. Available at: https://www.pnas.org/content/pnas/early/2015/10/29/1518393112.full.pdf?sid=c9772399-e254-46a8-9da6-33b3fdf014dd

Farris, Sara R. (2017). In The Name of Women’s Rights: The Rise of Femonationalism. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

Hall, Stuart (2018). The Fateful Triangle: Race, Ethnicity, Nation. Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: Harvard University Press.

Henkel, Heiko, Bangstad, Sindre and Bertelsen, Bjørn Enge (2019). The Politics of Affect: Perspectives on the rise of the far-right and right-wing populism in the West, Focaalblog March 14 2019. Available at: https://www.focaalblog.com/2019/03/14/heiko-henkel-and-sindre-bangstad-the-politics-of-affect-anthropological-perspectives-on-the-rise-of-far-right-and-right-wing-populism-in-the-west/

Mazzarella, William. (2019). The Anthropology of Populism: Beyond the Liberal Settlement, forthcoming in Annual Review of Anthropology

Metzl, Jonathan M. (2019). Dying of Whiteness: How The Politics of Racial Resentment Is Killing America’s Heartland. New York: Basic Books.

Rouse, Carolyn M. (2004). Engaged Surrender: African American Women And Islam. Berkeley, California: University of California Press.

Rouse, Carolyn M. (2009). Uncertain Suffering: Racial Health Care Disparities And Sickle Cell Disease. Berkeley, California: University of California Press.

Zúquete, José Pedro (2018). The Identitarians: The Movement Against Globalism And Islam in Europe. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.

Willis, Paul (1977). Learning to Labour: How Working-Class Kids Get Working-Class Jobs. New York: Columbia University Press.

Notes

(1) This blog post is based on a recording of a conversation between Carolyn M. Rouse (Professor at the Department of Anthropology, Princeton University, USA) and Sindre Bangstad (Research Professor at KIFO, Institute For Church, Religion and Worldview Research, Oslo, Norway) at the House of Literature in Oslo on April 23, 2019. We decided to keep the conversational style also in the written form to enable a level of immediacy that resonates with the original interview. The conversation was part of the “Anthropology of Our Times” series at the House of Literature in Oslo and the House of Literature in Bergen, funded by the Fritt Ord Foundation in Norway. Rouse was introduced by Senior Research Librarian Michelle Antoinette Tisdel from the National Library of Norway; the transcript was made by Gard Ringen Høibjerg of the Inland University of Applied Sciences in Norway. References and footnotes by Sindre Bangstad; edits by Carolyn M. Rouse and Sindre Bangstad. The authors also wish to thank the Norwegian Centre Against Racism (ARS), KIFO, and Bjørn Enge Bertelsen and Yael Harlap from the University of Bergen.

(2) Baer’s podcast “Think About It” is available at https://www.ulrichbaer.com/

(3) Rouse’s visit to Norway in late April 2019 came in the context of a heated media debate about so-called “no-platforming” after the annual Nordic Media Days in Bergen had invited the former Breitbart editor and Trump advisor turned far-right organizer Steven Bannon as a keynote for its conference in Bergen, Norway on May 9 2019. Inspired by the successful campaign against the New Yorker’s decision to platform Bannon at its annual New Yorker Festival in 2018, anti-racist public intellectuals of racialized black and/or Muslim background in Norway such as Mohamed Abdi and Camara Lundestad Joof responded to the Nordic Media Days’ invitation to “debate Bannon” by refusing to do so, leading to widespread condemnation in Norwegian media editors’ circles. At editorial and senior management level in Norway, mainstream media are and remain overwhelmingly white and middle-class. Bannon’s event at Nordic Media Days was from Bannon’s point of view, and entirely as predicted by Norwegian anti-racists in advance, a propaganda coup, what with few critical questions being asked, and the folksy Bannon being livestreamed on Norwegian state broadcasting NRK online, receiving carpet-to-wall and largely uncritical coverage in Norwegian mainstream media. After the appearance in Bergen, Bannon appeared at Oslo Militære Samfund in Oslo on May 10 at a sold-out event organized by Document.no, once the Norwegian mass-murderer Anders Behring Breivik’s favorite website, an event which was in fact cross-subsidized by Nordic Media Day’s coverage of Bannon’s travels to and from Bergen.

(4) Available online from Vimeo at: https://vimeo.com/125713372

 

Anthropology, Activism, and the Problem of Countering Violent Extremism in Africa

Abstract:

Anthropology has an ambivalent history of being involved in social justice activism, and much anthropological work circulates around issues of conflict resolution in cultures throughout the world. After unethically supporting the colonial mandate, in more recent years anthropologists involved themselves in the Civil Rights movement, Native American social justice issues, and most recently social movements for environmental justice and women’s rights. And yet, regarding Countering Violent Extremism (CVE), there has been relatively little anthropological input, and rarely do our efforts affect policy decisions. This article examines issues of conflict management, technology, and cultural awareness in terms of the core themes of cultural and activist anthropology, and some of the ethical conundrums anthropologists create and must face. My argument is that anthropology is uniquely positioned to provide a critical counter-narrative to CVE’s inherent problems and a conceptual anchor to diplomatic approaches for combatting violence and terrorism in Africa. Drawing on both anthropological literature and ethnographic research, I introduce the idea of a Culture and Peace Lab (CPL) to combat violence, with special attention to Togo in Western Africa, and Tanzania in Eastern Africa. The goal is to encourage ongoing dialogues, and spark new ones, about how to best deal with violent extremism.

 

Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) and the Role of Anthropology

Violent extremism, often equated with terrorism, is defined by the FBI as “encouraging, condoning, justifying, or supporting the commission of a violent act to achieve political, ideological, religious, social, or economic goals.” Despite this definition being vague and arbitrary, it is the working definition most used when framing American counter-terrorism efforts and home and throughout the globe. Countering violent extremism is an anti-terrorism initiative of the United States government, including the military arm of the USDOD called AFRICOM. Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter condemns violent extremism which is conducive to terrorism, sectarian violence, and acts of terrorism while demanding that all terrorists cease participation in armed conflict and violence. Disturbingly, the growing acts of white nationalism and violent extremism in the US, are not labelled terrorism, weakening the credibility of counter-terrorism efforts in place like Africa and the Middle East. The UN call for member states to work collectively to combat the threat of terrorist fighters while avoiding the profiling based on stereotypes founded in discrimination and prohibited by international law. The problem is that these programs, which are not new, have often yielded dubious results, while claiming to root out all violent extremism they have focused almost explicitly on Muslims, stigmatizing them, and promoting fear, discrimination, as well as a rise in so-called “radicalization”, which is rarely applied to home-grown hate groups. A pervasive lack of cultural awareness, coupled with pronounced preferences toward militarization, as opposed to “soft-power” and diplomatic approaches, has helped to turn a brush fire into a forest fire, particularly in Africa. This paper calls for a greater role for education and cultural awareness via a culture and technology program—to create new relationships based on trust and educational development to deter violent extremism.

Despite ethical dilemmas within the discipline of anthropology, such as knowledge production, post-colonial hegemonies, and our role in engaged activism more generally, I believe that it would be fruitful for anthropologists to assist at the local level to connect different ethnic and religious groups and respective youths via digital story-telling, intercultural dialogues, cooperative activities, to combat extremism. There is i a vast array of debate internal to the discipline about security/counter-terrorism and the dilemma of the ‘culture expert,’ which this article evaluates by engaging the literature and opening the forum for other anthropologists to participate in a discourse (Atran 2010, 2016; Besteman 2008; Price 2011). Ethnography also has a role to play here, but ethics surrounding human subjects makes addressing violent extremism both difficult and often amoral. The approach confronts the rise in Islamophobia and its negative outcomes. As my Muslim friend Jalil Mgawe said when asked about Tanzanian radicalization, “When has a Tanzanian or African ever blown up or killed an American? Other than the Nigerian underwear bomber who was thwarted, we have no interest in killing anyone, and especially not Americans thousands of miles away. Americans do many great things here in Tanzania, they work on social justice issues by way of thousands of NGO’s, you are our friends” (personal conversation November 9, 2017).

A central issue to CVE has been a working definition and consensus, as to what exactly it means. The US Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) approach is built on the British “anti-radicalization” program which is equally problematic. According to McCants and Watts, “US documents frequently employ the term CVE, (but) there is not a shared view of what CVE is or how it should be done (2012, 1). The definitions are wide-ranging from acceptance of extreme beliefs to a propensity for violence in the name of distorted religious ideas. This ambiguity of language leads to conflicting approaches and the impossibility of evaluating the effectiveness of CVE programs. McCants and Watts propose the following goal for CVE, “reducing the number of terrorist group supporters through non-coercive means.” Exactly what terrorism and coercion mean is also ambiguous. However, such a broad definition does weed out some of the biases and Islamophobic intimations inherent in other definitions, opening the door for a more productive debate about the efficacy of programs. The UN talks about “counter-radicalization” even more broadly to the point that distinguishing between insurgent groups, gangs, criminal enterprises, and terrorists, is all but impossible. The word “countering” itself can be strongarm, and a justification for law enforcement and militaries to violate basic human rights.

Another important theme in the anthropological and social science literature has been the advent of AFRICOM, and the billions of dollars the US spends in Africa to combat terrorism. For Catherine Besteman (2008), AFRICOM (The United States African Command) offers humanitarian and development functions along with defense initiatives, but those on the ground view US engagement in Africa as a promotion of militarism, and the desire to extract African resources (20-21). In what Bakari (2017) dubs “the next American crusade”, he advocates for the use of more lethal measures by Sahelian security forces, to make them even more effective. Not everybody agrees. As Stuart Price notes in the Afro Barometer Project, prioritizing security in Africa is important since 36 countries consider security-related issues as a top three of concerns on the national level across the continent (www.Afrobaromter.org). However, more insecurity is perpetuated by dictatorial regimes and “foreigners” than homegrown extremists, and meanwhile security falls behind unemployment, health, education, infrastructure, water supply, and poverty as political issue in Africa (Bentley and Southall 2005). The amount the US spends on CVE to combat violent extremist organizations (VEO’s) compared to poverty and infrastructure is alarming. Even military scholars like Lisa Palmieri (2015) have pointed out the problems with the lack of a unified US strategy for addressing “Violent Salafi Jihadism” (VSJ), calling our approach “counterproductive” because of imprecise language and disaggregation, and Muslims in Africa and Asia are far more victimized by “VSJ” than Europeans and Americans. A key issue has been Saudi Arabia’s massive funding of “Salafist sects”, plus, America’s preoccupation with Iran, ignoring its own protracted wars, and the acts of its Middle Eastern allies in places such as Yemen, Afghanistan, Syria, and throughout Africa.

This article combines some ethnographic research from West Africa with archival research from Eastern Africa to evaluate and assess the role of anthropology in these contexts. Second, I will attempt to engage the ways of seeing in anthropology of cultural awareness through anthropology training where youths from African share stories about their ancestry, religion, family, and business ideas learned through interviewing and participant observation. Today, at the Center for Peace and Conflict Studies at Wayne State University, we are developing peace education and digital story-telling programming which brings youths of different cultural, religious, and regional backgrounds to create video projects like life-history analysis, police and student dialogues, learning Islam 101, mindfulness and meditation exercises, and activities like “cross the line” which elicits common bonding experiences. Students also share ideas about how to resolve conflict and build sustainable environmental and business projects, this direct action via a “Culture and Peace Lab” (CPL )idea is a platform for various video and online projects aimed at building on existing resiliencies of interfaith and interethnic camaraderie on the ground. As part of this direct action, pointing out the profound failures of both CVE programs and neoliberalism in the Global South is necessary. This past month in Togo, where interfaith and interethnic cooperation is resilient, many now young adults who participated in my Culture and Peace Lab in 2014-15 have  now been recognized by the Togolese government as ambassadors of peace. There graduation ceremony included followers of Vodun, Islam, and Christianity all celebrating together.

Violent Extremism and violence begin as human ideas, with most youths feeling lonely or alienated. Kids flock to terrorism for the same reason they join gangs, because they feel helpless, and violent recruiters pray on these vulnerabilities. One example includes some groups which have embraced “violent Jihad”. And yet, most Salafists, and adherents of “Wahhabi” principles, like other Muslims, see “Jihad” as “inner struggle”, elements ignored by westerners, and also a part of Christianity and Judaism. Anthropologists know that in Africa, Muslims and Christians have had a long history of inter-marriage, cooperation, and working together. The Association of Applied Anthropologists were particularly interested in carving out a bigger role for ethnographers in Africa during my invited session at a 2017 conference in Montreal, especially ideas building on pre-existing resiliencies on the ground, namely, local indigenous law, inclusion, inter-marriage, pluralism, and intercultural and interfaith dialog and exchange.

Ethical Conundrums of Anthropologists and CVE 

Within the discipline of anthropology, contemporary frameworks and debates proliferate regarding the ethical conundrums in anthropology and its players regarding security, terrorism, counter-terrorism, and international conflict resolution in general (Nyamjoh 2012). Despite anthropology’s unabated call for diversity and inclusion, there is implicit racism and sexism throughout the discipline, shrouded in the rhetoric and talk of cultural diversity are policy actions of post-colonial actors which “beyond the masks” work to “enslave the soul of the other” through racialized subjectivities and the suppression of black femininity (Mama 2002). For Achille Mbembe (2000), the African post-colony has wrongly been framed as the “edge of the world”, with its resources and economic benefits being placed before its very people. This is the case concerning the recent American agenda which spends more money and resources on “securitization” than combatting structural poverty. The United States, despite President Trump doubling the $30 billion US government investment to $60 billion, is almost entirely focused on combatting “radicalization” with troops dispersed throughout the continent, often funneling money to autocratic leaders who do more to adhere to the colonial pact than to ensure democracy. The aim is to stamp out terrorists with the potential to harm the United States, and not improve the lives of everyday African citizens. Even China’s massive BRI (Belt and Roads Initiative), a trillion dollar investment, is disproportionately helping government elites and foreign companies, and doing little to contend with growing economic disparities.

Since the 2011 Arab Spring, there has been a marked escalation in “Salafist Islam” and the mystification surrounding this movement has been biased and short-sighted, leading to even more violence. The surge in extremism after the Arab Spring has engendered substantial research informed by the need to understand these new actors and account for their mobilization in places such as Syria and Iraq. However, current research suffers from two distinctive elitist and social media biases detrimental to current understandings of this phenomenon. The first bias pertains to the study of Salafi jihadi groups’ strategies and political agendas through the sole writings of their leaders and ideologues, while the social media bias refers to the inflated attention given to the role of the Internet in inciting jihadi recruitment. These two biases overlook the micro-level foundations of violent extremism, their pre-2011 roots in the Arab world, and the role of off-line social networks. The political ethnography by Drevon (2016) underlines these points, and encourages new hypotheses for Egypt. In fact, these same elitist and social-media biases are dangerous not because governments such as the US and Europe subscribe to them, but because they do nothing to understand nor eradicate the situation on the ground. There is a lack of data and contextualization of the data which leads to serious bias.

Throughout sub-Saharan Africa, issues with violence persist, despite the siren-call that “Africa is Rising”. While forms of violence target the physical destruction of people (massacres, genocide, contract killings), sovereignty outside of the state stemming from the confusion between public affairs and private government is only exacerbated in neoliberal modernity (Mbembe 2000, 260). These are the “counter-narratives” that ethnographers should be shedding light on, movements like “Lets Save Togo” which involves heroic women protesters calling for an end to the dictatorial regime, for term limits and fair elections. Throughout the continent, women’s rights, multi-party democracy, an end to violence, improved education, and redistribution of resources are the major grievances driving protests, anthropologists working in all these countries need to bring this to light (Ortiz et al. 2013). Even African ethnographers grapple with ethical dimensions relating to participant observation for the more integrated they become in the host community the more human-relations problems occur (Ezeh 2003). Paul Nkwi’s work in the Cameroonian grass-fields unveils great political, economic, and gender divides that come with attempts at regional balance and national integration, birthing more ethical dilemmas for the social scientists to sort out (Nkwi and Nyamjob 2011). Anthropology’s inherent ethical conundrums and problems with knowledge production means engaged anthropology must echo and amplify the voice of the people. The idea of a Culture, Technology, and Peace Lab (CPL) would do just this, build on the anthropological skill-set for qualitative and quantitative data, allowing for Africans to share their stories and ideas about peace and sustainable development with each other, with the ethnographers role relegated to that of translation and connecting groups across different regions to work on what they see as important.

Tanzania, Togo, and AFRICOM

The idea of teaching anthropology, technology, social media, and conflict resolution through the guise of a “Culture and Peace Lab” (CPL) proved effective in Togo during a pilot study in 2014, but it was a small program. In Togo, it is not uncommon for Christians, Muslims, or “Traditionalists” to consult and adhere to local systems of divination and judgement, including Vodu, Gorovodu, and Afa. Examples proliferate throughout the continent, despite a collective misunderstanding of “tribal warfare”. AFRICOM itself has a questionable recent history, bending the American arc of influence from an economic and social one to a military one. The “rationalization of post-Cold War global military command structure”, in the words of Keelan (2008), was justified under the global war on terror in the Bush-era, but, “this has become increasingly difficult as Africa, apart from the Maghreb, and incidents in Eastern Africa have been relatively free of terrorism” (2006, 17). With recent failures in Mali, Nigeria, and Somalia, perhaps we can find a role for anthropologists to assist with CVE via education? The positive trends of local courts in the post-conflict Rwandan genocide and the inter-cultural victories of Tanzania should be assessed side-by-side the protracted problems of extremism in northern Nigerian and northern Mozambique. AFRICOM in Western Africa is often viewed with concern, since the US sometimes props up dictatorial armies that suppress the local population, as has been the case in Cameroon, Burkina Faso, and Mali. Anthropologists may be able to assist in bringing a more culturally competent approach to deterring so-called violent extremism, by teaching necessary diversity and technological training creating fruitful counter-narratives and cooperative exchanges between different people, instead of pinning them against one-another in a “clash of civilizations”. Another reason terrorism persists in Africa is because of unnecessary and illegal wars in place like Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan, and the spontaneous withdraw of troops create vacuums and breeding grounds for violence and “terrorism”.

My research in southern Ghana and Togo found that most southern Ewes, Guin-Mina, and Aja’s have great adoration and respect for their northern “Muslim” neighbors (even becoming them in possession trance), this despite nearly 50 years of autocratic rule in Togo by a northern army on a majority southern population (Montgomery and Vannier 2017a). Whereas in Nigeria, the Muslim population is higher, and the northern Hausa and Fulani disproportionately disempowered. African village law solved conflicts between groups, individuals, and sometimes gods themselves.

The case study of Tanzania is relevant in highlighting a situation of relative peace and tranquility in an ethnically and religiously mixed society, although Ujamaa has been overly romanticized ignoring the forced removal of some groups, and current President Magfuli shows some clearly autocratic tendencies. Ujamaa ­ (community and equality) traditions, as well as local systems of jurisprudence have been effective for decades at bringing some disparate groups together by articulating national values of understanding and tolerance, since Tanzanians were very multicultural and diverse before colonization. European colonization and trade, mainly German and British, perpetuated the spread of Islam in Kenya and Tanzania; Christian schools were entwined with the modern nation building reversing decades of power relations, with Christians taking over Muslims’ positions in the state bureaucracy, leading to the gradual socioeconomic decline for many Muslims. This perception of historical power loss has led to an “Islamic-centric” interpretation of history that highlights discrimination and difference while complicating sustained and inclusive peace. Anthropology’s methods of holism, relativism, and its concept of culture can generate powerful tropes based on cultural and religious relativity to deter the “gradual hardening” of an externally derived extremist response, including those of revivalist Salafist groups (Glickman 2011). These counter-narratives come in the form of microfinancing of sustainable businesses and curriculums set up through a CPL where video projects offer an array of matters related to peace, embedding the core themes of anthropology, technology, and peace and conflict studies, with accompanying lesson plans.

By showing films such as “Pray the Devil back to Hell” (Disney 2008) and “Long Day’s Journey into Night” (Reid and Hoffman 2000)—then, Africa’s youth can see efficacious African models for invoking peace on the national level. I also share my own work about inclusivity and inter-faith dialogue in Togo through the lens of “African Traditional Religion” with my film “Chasing the Spirit” (see Baier 2016). Students work collaboratively across ethnic and gender lines to create their own short-films about social justice issues of their choice, uploading them to the “peace labs” website, and screened at a youth film festival.

For Muslims and Christians to co-exist and thrive peacefully, as they have for generations throughout the African continent, the CPL builds on “progress” and “brother/sisterhood” on the model of Ujamaa ideas enshrined by former Tanzanian President Julius Nyerere, a philosophy of equality, pluralistic unity, and tolerance. The marginalization that comes with global capitalism ignores the importance of reciprocity and relationships, by privileging objective measures and market principles alone. Tanzania boasts more than 100 ethnic groups and a nearly 50/50 split between Christians and Muslims. Tiny Togo has around 40 ethnic groups, and has maintained the highest percentage of “traditional religion” in all of Africa. In both contexts, violent extremism has been almost nonexistent. Many perceive the seeds of conflict to be present in Tanzania, and especially Togo (where the pro-democracy movement “Lets Save Togo”) fights the 50-year dictatorial regime of Eyadema (father and son).

The CPL itself involves cooperative businesses, sustainable agriculture, inter-ethnic and inter-faith activities and economic ventures. US military influence is deep in both countries, and yet AFRICOM opts to spend millions on training government troops “to take back their country” instead of empowering local people with jobs and the tools to understand one another. The Department of Defense and CVE program would ensure more stability and peace by building on existing cultures of tolerance and diversity through dialog and exchange programs, as opposed to militarization that perpetuates hate and violence. Many Africans see the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq as both illegal and the real reason for the rise of terrorist groups, finding reconciliation for these wars would help bring securitization to the region. The CPL addresses these failures of CVE and contends with socio-economic disparities between individuals and groups fueling desperation and violence.

 CVE and Tanzania

Although I have done a pilot study of the CPL in Togo, and Detroit, I think it has “legs” in Eastern Africa as well. Tanzania is a country of enormous diversity (more than 100 languages), and has had relative peace since Independence. Although post-Socialist Tanzania has seen its share of ethno-religious politics, especially in Zanzibar. There is sky-rocketing GDP and foreign direct investment (Atkinson and Lugo 2010) but most of the gains are going to the richest members of the population. And this too has a racial component, with Asian Muslims owning many firms and gaining upward mobility, while African Muslims continue to be among the poorest in all of Tanzania, especially pastoral groups living a nomadic lifestyle and not obtaining education.

Tanzania has a long history of inter-marriage and inclusivity in government and business circles. However, there have been an array of “Muslim complaints”. Anthropology has been underrepresented in curtailing violent extremism. For Azinade (2013) “Race, ethnicity, and nationality have marked African post-colonial efforts, such as those in Tanzania, to establish national political communities. Colonial agencies have deeply colored postcolonial struggles over who should belong to the nation and who should be excluded” (1). Just as this strong diverse nationalism has created love and civic engagement, it can also foster bloodshed, violence, and genocide targeting ethnic minorities and foreigners perceived as threats to the security of Tanzania. Teaching anthropology and technology in mass allows youth to create their own short films videos and share their voices with fellow children who remain optimistic as they fight against the conventional hierarchy of Tanzanian (or Togolese) politics dominated by the older generation.

As Mamdani (2001) reminds us, terrorism and violent extremism are more “political” than religious. And people in Tanzania engage in violence for the same reasons as most societies, with structural poverty and access to resources being at the forefront. My friend Timo at the Canadian World Education Fund, surveyed “at-risk” secondary students about why they think people engage in violence. Violence in Tanzania is related to the following: land issues, farmers and pastoralists disputes, water issues, political issues, identity issues, and violence from neighboring countries. My call for greater cultural and technological training facilitates understanding and employment. Video, social media, technology, cultural understanding, and basic skills in conflict resolution are all necessary and helpful for both curbing violence and sparking upward mobility. As the GDP and FDI (foreign direct investment) continue to rise exponentially, it is evident that the national government needs to do more to include all Tanzanians, especially African Muslims from poorer ethnic groups.

Ujamaa, the traditional system of empowerment and civic engagement in Tanzania has been sometimes effective. Such community traditions can be operative for conflict settlement (e.g. Gacaca courts), but they can also be discriminatory and monopolistic. When coupled with useful approaches from the UN and other regional approaches they can work, the reasons they have sometimes failed in the past is because of an “all or nothing” application, as opposed to a hybrid approaches from many sources.

Discussion: Teaching Peace and the need for Anthropology

For the past year, I have been working locally in Detroit through the Center for Peace and Conflict Studies (Peace in the Streets), at Wayne State University, to build curricula for peace education in a variety of local contexts. The chance to expand this diversity, conflict resolution, and cultural understanding training via digital story-telling in various parts of Africa, is a more effective mechanism for CVE than current approaches. The CPL has free online content with corresponding group video projects in the following areas: peace education, anthropology of religion, cultural anthropology, conflict mapping, video editing, and entrepreneurship. Activities around life-history, interviews, participant-observation, and inner/outer peace are designed to get kids from different backgrounds working together. In Detroit, during our annual Ralph Bunche Summer Institute, this approach has yielded long-term bonds between working class and suburban students crossing ethnic, religious, and gender boundaries. Once students engage with “others” for an extended period, fear and hate disappears because they realize they have a lot in common, and work cooperatively on their social justice themed videos. When they interview each other, and do videos on topics that interest them, cultural awareness and empathy are improved.

Anthropology had a disturbing colonial history in both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, aligning the discipline aided imperialist and expansionist goals of the western world, the CPL is a chance to mend such past injustices. Similar reconciliatory approaches have worked in Detroit with programs we have run at the Peace Center such as “Understanding your Muslim Neighbors”, “Peace in the Streets”, and “Beyond Fear and Hate”. Africa is the youngest and fastest-growing continent on earth. Anthropologists know first-hand from their ethnographic research that youths are agents of positive peace and change, and when viewed as such, they can be empowered to fight their underrepresentation and repression in systems with poor governance and extreme poverty. Doing so early on and including children in the decision-making process can address the economic and political grievances that drive violent extremism by improving their relationships within their respective communities and states.

Too often ethnocentrism and lack of cultural awareness has led to the failure of various international funding projects; with nuanced cultural relativity, effective programs should build on historical resiliencies and promises shown in the films I mentioned. Since independence, Tanzania has remained an open, inclusive, pluralistic, and democratic society. My argument is that anthropology can invoke understanding between differing factions, and thus encourage positive outcomes by erecting educational video projects into local curriculum with focus on: 1) Unified national identity, 2) Religious and Ethnic tolerance, and 3) Sustained Cultures of Peace. Curriculums are extensive, with several 90-minute lecture/workshops complete with video projects across the six segments. Recent research suggests that “promoting online voices” may be highly effective in “countering violent extremism” (Helmus, York, and Chalk, 2013). The online approach proposed here is embedded in anthropological method and theory, including a nuanced understanding African culture, history, and society, and a critical eye for conflict management and resolution, once digitized it is shared widely at little cost.

Submissions proliferate from across the social sciences and humanities pertaining to CVE, but, anthropology seems to be underrepresented, and the literature lacks primary research– with a holistic perspective, such media and communication programs can be successful at combatting “radicalization” (Ferguson 2016, 28-29). There are some promising signs of an “anthropology and peace” revival including The Anthropology of Peace and Nonviolence by Leslie Sponsel (2006) who builds on the concepts of Glenn Paige’s innovative ideas about a paradigm shift from killing to non-killing throughout human cultures, while highlighting the ideological and systematic cultural bias which privileges war over peace. Currently I am co-authoring a submission with Professor Elizabeth Drexler from Michigan State University on anthropology, peace, and conflict studies for the Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Anthropology (OREA). Scott Atran’s work includes extensive field interviews with terrorists, enriching our understanding of the “roots” of modern terrorism. The difference here is an ideology that appeals to them, extremism is something very attractive to more people than you might think. In France, a poll by showed that 27% of young French people, not just Muslims, between 18 and 24 had a favorable attitude toward the Islamic State.

One way to empower disadvantaged youth is through free tutoring and mentoring on conducting ethnographic research, developing interview, coding, and critical writing skills. Not just for learning about themselves, but for studying “us” as well, my work on “photo-voice” in Togo allowed Ewe-villagers to do just this and they were good at it (Montgomery 2017b). Students also learn about youth violence, diversity, domestic violence, non-violence, and many other peace themes, sometimes for the first time. When they return to their respective schools and neighborhoods, with self-created video projects, they become advocates for peace, possessing stronger leadership skills. In Detroit, students reported they are 120% more likely to speak up against injustice and to do so with the skills to diffuse violence. The literature and more recent work by Ferguson (2016) have concluded that one huge problem for CVE and terrorism is the absence of a unified academic “field” through which tougher academic standards could be enforced; bridging anthropology, peace and conflict studies, communication and conflict studies, and other related fields together in the CPL accomplishes this.

Today, anthropology’s engagement with activism seems often ambiguous and the field continues to debate the role of anthropologists in policy. And in my Peace and Justice Anthropology courses I continue to see increased interest in social justice activism on an annual basis. The time to strike is now! Many ethnographers are in a unique space to address violent extremism through cultural and religious awareness. Where are the anthropologists? Some find the entire CVE spectrum a zone of militarization that they do not want to justify. Anthropologists need to get more involved, the CPL is a format for empowering at-risk youths. In our “Understanding our Muslim Neighbors” and “Beyond Fear and Hate” at The Center for Peace and Conflict Studies in Detroit, we co-sponsor forums with partners like The Council on Arab and Islamic Relations (CAIR) and Meta-Peace Team, we find that most Americans know little to nothing about Islam, and the majority by way of worksheets also cannot distinguish between basic excerpts from the Torah, Bible, and the Quran. Critical engagement brought about by activist research is both necessary and productive. My own research in Togo has been most effective when empowering at-risk populations by allowing them to exercise their own agency and tell their own stories (Montgomery 2017b, 287-309) Photo-voice as a method allows subjects and “targets” to create their own storylines about a range of issues (religious and ethnic difference), and violence. Ethnographic research can contribute to transforming the discipline by addressing the human rights and peace and security outcomes that need to be part of anthropological research and CVE programming. Instead of focusing on the tensions inherent in anthropological research on countering violent extremism or even human rights, activist research and anthropological programs for bringing peace, “draws them to the fore, making them a productive part of the process” (Speed 2006, 68).

Terrorism and Security Studies as specific disciplines are recent additions to the social sciences, and as they cope with questions relating to a proper or appropriate methodology, the utility of anthropology and ethnography is absent from deliberations. International Relations in general stands to benefit from more method and theory, since “Liberalism” and “Realism” fall short in explaining modern activities across nation-states. First, many African states do not pursue state interests but rather the interest of authoritarian individuals within the regime, and without decolonization, many governments within Africa have no control over what happens in their own sovereign territories. There is even less research by anthropologists talking to terrorists, radicals, or “at-risk” actors, even though anthropology has entered virtually every other domain of human activity: clinics, homeless shelters, prisons, shopping malls, factories, court rooms, and factories (for exception see Brannan et al. 2001).

Anthropology as a means for deterring violent extremism is envisioned with the creation of a Culture and Peace Lab (CPL) in various locations, with correlative curriculum training and online video and narrative projects. Students and religious groups create various individual, small, and large group video and artistic projects which pivot around the central themes: job skills building, family history, sustainable development, religion and ritual, human rights, conceptions of peace and conflict, sport and collaboration, and more. Our programming is extended to students grades 2 through 12, with specific content aimed at each age set. The elementary peace education takes place in area schools and afterschool problems, namely in Hamtramck, Michigan and Detroit, Michigan—in both settings more than seventy percent of the children are students of color. The middle school programming is a “Cops n’ Kids” community dialogue program where police officers and children work together to on video projects and simulations. Whereas, the high school programming is a two-week summer camp that focuses on a new topic each day, for example: domestic violence, cultural awareness, suicide prevention, and mindfulness. In Columbia, Somos Capazes and the  Center for Peace and Conflict Studies (CPCS) orchestrated a “Peace Theater” competition where students wrote their own plays on stereotyping and conflict resolution. Last year at the CPCS Ralph Bunche Institute, local Detroit high school students and Colombian University students were amazed at the similarities between the 1967 Detroit rebellion, and situation with the Colombian peace process and the problems of violence in American cities. Students also recorded their various classroom activities and performed “conflict circles” discussing differences and similarities traversing ethnicity, religion, and gender. These skills acculturate participants and create lasting bonds. During workshops in Africa, screenings of important African international film selections, as well as teaching a basic three-part script: (Problem, Conflict, Resolution) allowed groups to create some wonderful short-films. They produced and edited films on recycling, north/south cultural differences, bullying, religious holidays, and lineage histories. I am currently seeking external funding for a peace lab website so programming can be shared widely. The anthropological role is to teach, implement, and facilitate various “agency-centered” oral and visual approaches to define problems, identities and parties, to assess local community and national needs and to create concrete action plans for invoking cultural understanding and dialogue between different individuals and groups.

Activist anthropology can offer a positive and corrective approach for CVE, building on the historical resiliencies of unified national identity, religious and ethnic tolerance, and sustained cultures of peace. This is a call for anthropologists the world around to begin tackling violent extremism in all its forms, not just in Africa and The Middle East, but in Europe and North and South America. The hate we saw last summer in Charlottesville, last fall in Pittsburgh, last month in New Zeeland, and the rise of Nativism/White Nationalism throughout the Western world also needs to be addressed, violent extremism is by no means a “Muslim” enterprise. Last month we held a “Beyond Fear and Hate” panel looking at racism, Anti-Semitism, and Islamophobia side-by-side with a keynote from Dr. Cassie Miller from Southern Poverty Law Center. This is the template for speaking truth to power, and these events need widespread attention and to be available to everybody. We need to frame terrorism in all its guises, including the uptick by white nationalist groups in the US and Europe, for anti-Semitism, and anti-Immigrant groups, like Islamophobia, are also on the rise. The representations of Tanzanians, Togolese, or Nigerians, should not come from above or outside the society, but from within and from the localities themselves (Ferguson 2016), reducing the need to revert to forceful repression in CVE.

Over the last decade, the growth of Boko Haram in Western Africa, and a growing number of attacks in Eastern Africa have targeted local Christian leaders and many soft-targets such as schools, bars, and restaurants (Lopez Lucia 2015, 2), although not on the scale the media would lead one to believe. The Tanzanian case is a great case to investigate. Muslims and Christians coexist and often marry in all major Tanzanian regions except Zanzibar which is 95 percent Muslim. Among Muslims, over 85 percent belong to the Sunni Shafi sect built on Sufism; there are also some Sunni Arabs and Asians, with those from Omani origins belonging to the Ibadhi sect. Most adherents to “radicalization” are “invisible” to the international community and lack a sense of control over their environment or circumstances. While extremists are not invariably poverty stricken, they often act on real or perceived grievances against groups with a sense of justification. This anthropological approach via direct action seeks to put technology and skills in the hands of many impoverished youth who can begin making money through their skills immediately: videography, marketing, event planning, website production, social media management, and editing.

Technology and Culture: Alternatives to Neoliberalism

A core components of this essay is the advocacy for the “soft power” of counterinsurgency through diversity and pluralism, something anthropologists are particularly good at. Secondly, anthropologists can establish CPL’s teaching cultural awareness across religious and ethnic lines. Violent Extremism springs from economic insecurity issues of poverty, land grabbing, displacement, and invisibility in the global sphere, thus fueling young people’s move towards jihadist groups. The role of capitalist economic relations in these kinds of the aforementioned processes is a powder-keg for the desperation that precedes extremism. It assumes what Jon Pahl (2010) in another context has called “innocent domination”, the silent hegemony that comes from neoliberalism and global capitalism, ideas contrary to local collective moral and economic values. These kinds of diplomatic policies have been tried extensively in Latin America and have failed, leading to increased insecurity in the region. Central America, American Indian reservations, and Mexico are just a few examples. So, how can we expect these same policies to work in Africa? Africa and the world cannot afford a further rise in violence, terrorism, and marginalization that are the result of these ethnocentric policies.

As Juan Cole (2018) asserts in his book “Muhammed: Prophet of Peace”, Islam has a history of tolerance, also evidenced in the film “Out of Cordoba” (2009). The Salafist interpretation of Islam is a recent phenomenon, catalyzed by hegemonic western wars in foreign lands, and according to many has more to do with interpretation and propaganda than actual Quranic teachings (Cole 2018). Most do agree that Violent Extremist Organizations (VEO’s), have been more effective with technology and the war of ideas than most government approaches to VE. Nyamjoh, Hackett, and Soares, New Media and Religious Transformations in Africa considers the importance of combining religion and media studies because Islam, Christianity, and African religions are all operating together in an era of political liberalization, media deregulation, and the proliferation of new technologies (2015, 9). If social media has been a tool to invoke “radicalization”, why not establish educational skills to counter it? In Sudan, a bizarre balance between education and popular media has occurred with the UN invoking Western style educational curriculum and media outlets being ensconced in Islamic teachings.

If the goal is to counter violent extremism, then intercultural and interreligious programming and economic empowerment workshops with curricula where students and religious leaders collaborate to launch business ideas and tell their cultural stories are surely more effective than clandestine activities in the name of intelligence and security. Family and religious history, entrepreneurial ideas, technological and social media skills, conflict management, video production and editing, interfaith dialogues, and the power of film— combine to create life-long skill sets designed to empower the local, by also building on a strong history of pre-existing African cultural legacies like Ujamaa in Tanzania, Gacaca courts in Rwanda, or Gorovodu in Togo. An anthropological approach opens new lines of communication between strangers. Providing action and making people “known” in a constructive way to each other and online make it less likely for violent extremism to flourish, especially when people from different economic, cultural, ethnic, and religious backgrounds, including marginalized communities, build trust and work together consistently and collaboratively across these lines.

The online teaching program must do more than teach the precepts of anthropology and understanding, because research on violence shows that conflict stems from lack of access to work and the economy. Which is why coupling culture with technology is so important. Therefore, the CPL must also instill skills which allow citizens to garner the business savvy necessary for upward mobility, while also rebuilding a working and dependable justice system. Otherwise, this approach (like so many others) runs the risk of being just another top-down development experiment. The reasons this can work are because education and understanding can lead to liberation and positive peace. Building a platform for free media sharing to empower teachers, religious leaders, and young Africans to overcome their differences is essential. Anybody with access to a cell phone will be able to participate. The proposed websites provide a platform for Tanzanian and Togolese voices to be heard locally, and throughout Africa; with the permission of the creators, videos and other projects are archived and made available online. Another promising trend includes the exploration of intellectual history and agency from below, Hunter (2015) helps to empower others in her book Political Thought and the Public Sphere in Tanzania (2015). She argues that Tanzania developed its own political concern about progress and development (Ujamaa), and citizens find harmony, despite diverse ethnicity and religion (2015, 17). Our abiding fear of terrorist cells and violent extremism continues to motivate US policies throughout Africa. Past US mistakes in Somalia, ongoing mishaps in Mali and northern Nigeria, must serve as lessons; funding and supplying warlords, carrying out strikes against terrorist suspects, are sometimes counterproductive. We need new approaches, otherwise we propel local extremists and fear-mongering groups to power, only to later blame them and their religion for violence.

Throughout Africa many are struggling to meet their basic needs and find their place in society; youth are vulnerable to VEO recruiters, who offer them a strong sense of purpose, community, and much needed money. Meanwhile, cell phones and internet access, have revolutionized the ways African youths communicate and stay informed (Nyamjoh and Soares 2015). Just as surely as at-risk youth can be recruited by extremists, they can also choose a more sustained peace. Young populations are more prone to “radicalization” than their elders; religion and media need not always exacerbate violence, as they can be positive channels through which violent extremism is countered. Ferguson insists “counter narratives” can be ambiguous and unclear; this project aims to clarify alternative voices through a public digital forum and archive and with the tools of anthropology including cultural relativity and tolerance (2016, 27-28).

Hinds writes regarding Islamic “radicalization” in North Africa, “a combination of poverty, political and cultural marginalization, low educational attainment, a lack of opportunities (particularly for young people), and the collapse of traditional Islamic organizations is a potent combination” (2015, 1). She continues, “The internet is a key component of modern processes of ‘radicalization’, however, few strategies have targeted online ‘radicalization’” (2015, 2). Attempts at democratization in the Arab Spring were strengthened with social media, but extremists also flocked to these media. We must be cognizant of this trend, for “while the internet is an important tool in modern ‘radicalization’, so far, few de- and counter-radicalization programs have included an online component” (Hinds 2015, 11; Helmus, York, and Chalk 2013). Evidence suggests that a variety of complementary approaches are the best means for countering terrorism; with anthropology and ethnography we can all talk to each other from a place of inclusion—thereby, recognizing the critical role of anthropology and development for addressing social, political, and economic grievances.

Conclusion

This paper brings to the forefront three important issues: first is the underrepresentation of anthropologists researching and involved in countering violent extremism, second, is the shift away from diplomacy and development towards “securitization” of US policies in Africa, third, how anthropologists might be involved in so-called CVE, including the use of technology and culture. The CPL is timely given contemporary trends in CVE and anthropology’s pivot toward the public sphere. An important kernel of the curriculum is learning cultural relativity, diversity, conflict resolution, and inclusion. Racism, sexism, hate, bullying, stereotyping, and exclusion can all tackled head-on through various lectures, activities, and group digital story-telling projects that work toward peacebuilding. Coming in to our programs at the Center for Peace and Conflict Studies regarding youths, most students struggle to even define diversity, and its many manifestations are often misunderstood. Upon completion of the program students are equipped with many ways to promote inclusion in society and end up rating diversity as “extremely important.” Meanwhile, cultural dialogues at Michigan State University have been fruitful for students, staff, and faculty alike. Most impressive, are the outcomes related to individual, community, and social violence stemming from surveys in Detroit and Colombia, as well as small data-sets from Togo and Tanzania. Students come up with mechanisms for addressing violence and many times even “teach” their parents new skills. As their capacity to de-escalate and de-colonize violence improves, students become ambassadors of peace in their homes and communities. Leadership and civic engagement also improve because once armed with proper conflict, culture, and technological training, participants find social justice issues that matter to them most and find cooperative ways to create positive change as activists. These skills will also minimize the prospects for violent extremism in Africa.

Ethical debates surrounding the relationship of anthropology to activism goes back decades, but are once again experiencing a resurgence (Speed 2006, 67). Ethnography is a tool grounded on acute insider knowledge and based on longitudinal research and an understanding of anthropological theory. Anthropology has made great gains in such bourgeoning fields as medical and forensic anthropology, and yet its role in policy and diplomacy seems scattered at best, especially when it comes to positively impacting the CVE debate. Anthropology is concerned with who we are as people, where we are going, and what we should do. Anthropology helps us get beyond fear and hate through the portals of cultural understanding and inclusion.

This does not come without ethical problems surrounding surveillance, so the CPL’s need to be run for and by Africans. And part of the programming involves projects around colonial history and governments themselves. CVE frameworks have been criticized by many for good reason, both at home and abroad, namely for the violations of privacy, overreach of surveillance, and the numerous Islamophobic dimensions. This offers something contrary to that, cultural and historical awareness aimed at peace! I have argued for diplomacy and empowerment as counterpoints to militarized approaches to counter-terrorism—this entails constructing counternarratives and opportunities more appetizing than what VEO’s can provide. These soft-power strategies have often been critiqued for relying on false dichotomies and blurred lines between ‘security’ and ‘diplomacy’, but when people get to know the “other”, they are less likely to invoke violence toward them. Teaching conflict resolution, mediation, and peace and conflict studies helps eradicate violence; both UNESCO and UNDP have agreed. Another important issue has been the debates and frameworks surrounding the anthropologist as “culture expert”, fostering an environment encouraging African youths to provide the innovation and development of their own CPL’s helps to off-set this, so does an honest discussion about colonialism and neocolonialism.

The literature on anthropology and countering violent extremism is scant, but there is a role for us. There have been some in-roads regarding “science based field research” and some anthropological methods have made their way into the monitoring and evaluation tools for counter terrorism and VE (Atran 2010)—an ethical problem of its own. Gledhill (2008) has expressed the need for “anthropology in the age of securitization”, claiming anthropology the world around could “provide the basis for countering those ideas and beliefs that fuel violence” (32). By building on pre-existing resiliencies on the ground, tolerance and peace directly address narratives of hopelessness and protracted violence. Anthropology needs to pay much more attention to culture, religion, technology, and “radicalization” by evaluating and analyzing them holistically; offering a local, regional, and national platform for dialogue and reconciliation.

What anthropology and conflict resolution can bring to peace and security and CVE is a holistic vision of how societies operate, how power from the top smashes peace from below, how cultures are constructed and maintained, and this seems to be conspicuously absent from many people working on VE and terrorism more generally (Atran 2010; Speed 2006). Many times, government agencies, NGO’s, and academics operate in our own silos of specialization, and we fail to capture the big picture of how human agents relate to one another in society. As ethnographers, we know that to understand how a society works, we need to understand the parts of the system that nobody talks about because they are not seen as important; sometimes it is the “silence” of individuals and cultures that say the most about what makes them “radical” or “extreme”. By combining conflict management and economic empowerment with anthropology and technology, and providing training with an electronic platform that is democratic and affordable, anthropologists can accelerate the dissemination of counter narratives from the people themselves, while combatting hegemonic narratives currently dominating the debate on VE. Social science provides individuals with an understanding of what makes us similar and what makes us different, it shows that multi-culturalism is an asset, not a problem. Anthropologists should be at the forefront of ongoing frameworks and debates concerning violent extremism, not just in Africa, but throughout the world.

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No one wants to be the “Global North”? On being a researcher across the North and South

In this blog post I would like to share my personal experiences of carrying out qualitative research in what contemporary scholars call the “Global South” (Lebanon, the United Arab Emirates and Egypt) and the “Global North” (Australia and the United Kingdom). To convey my message clearly, I adopt the classical political geography of “South” and “North” with the intention of neither confirming these narrow categories nor of universalizing my personal experiences but in order to work towards an honest sociology of knowledge through such peculiar experiences.

In particular, I discuss what I think are some of the emerging behavioral and ethical tendencies in today’s research economy and its main methodologies. On the one hand, the reluctance in the “Southern” environments in recognizing their own tendency to embrace predominant ways of producing knowledge. On the other, the reluctance of “Northern” research entities to acknowledge their own positionality within the global scenario – that is, accepting the fact of conducting research as outsiders and, above all, the sociological harm of pretending localism. The result of these two tendencies is, from my perspective, a globalized impoverished attention to factual awareness, which depends on the personal involvement of researchers in the context they study and the cultivation of the capability to build and rebuild a continual relationship with the subjects and the places studied beyond the duration of fieldwork research.

The “Southern” tendency to perceive the practice of producing research as antithetical or substantially different to the North consistently builds on the universal romanticization of the research produced in the Global South, cutting across the North and the South. Indeed, while the research and academic institutions that I worked for in the Global South tended to believe that their fieldwork quality standards were inherently higher, the fact of being at the mercy of external – and unstable – sources of funding often endangered their existence and alternative ways of working. In these circumstances, fieldwork mostly took place in relatively small timeframes and, likewise, theories needed to be quickly wrapped up, making it difficult to identify any effective counter-culture of knowledge production. Studies on publishing locally and perishing globally have importantly highlighted the material constraints of localizing research. While “Southern” knowledge is barely known and mentioned by North-produced researchers (although it often marks significantly several fields of studies), it is also important to add that, in my own experiences across the Arab world, large segments of upper and middle classes tend to receive their postgraduate education and establish their scholarship in Northern institutions, thereby being trained according to Northern criteria while trying to preserve their reputation of being local researchers. In similar ways, Southern institutions often delegate fieldwork to research assistants who struggle to receive intellectual acknowledgment. (The same acknowledgment that many “Southern” research institutions have been looking for in the international arena, still dominated by Global North’s epistemologies and funding sources). In this regard, I have seen no co-authorships offered to research assistants, who undergo processes of alienation similar to those recently discussed in the context of the institutions of the Global North. Likewise, I have witnessed similarly exploitative relationships which seek to build knowledge upon the anonymity and the belittling of an underpaid workforce, whatever the latter’s passport is.

Despite acknowledging the partially ethnic character of some of these power dynamics – such as European academics versus local researchers in the Arab Levant, mostly when the former lack the necessary linguistic skills and in-depth knowledge of the research settings – I would like to emphasize some nuances. While the global archetype of neoliberal academia certainly does not stem from Southern institutions, largely due to colonial legacies, in my experience I have identified hierarchical and alienating structures of research-making across different cultural patterns of knowledge production.

Dauntingly, ethical research and decolonial methodologies are becoming tokenistic worldwide, turning into a further disenfranchisement of diversely vulnerable researched subjects, such as refugees. In this scenario, the Global North currently promotes itself as a pioneer advocate of ethical research – a phenomenon which has led to a proliferation of publications on the topic, rather than finally aiming for a radical transformation of research and for the uprooting of the vulnerabilities of the researched.

With no intention to bury unequal historical relationships, the intrinsic “non-ethicness” of such structural deficiencies needs to be observed across Norths and Souths. To ethnographers, if quality fieldwork means collecting relevant data, it also needs to mean collecting what matters at a local level and in an appropriate way. Contextual relevance and cultural appropriateness inevitably require generous timeframes. Doing less but long-term research and paying under-explored forms of respect to the researched may be the way to go.

Moreover, a pressing question may center on the tyranny of grants and funding, which is said to dictate the design of today’s projects. To what extent is this the cause of such an unacknowledged sociology of failure in academic research? The present tendency is to design methods that involve an extremely large number of interviews and what I would call the “participatory approach fever”. The result of a misinterpretation of what “participation” should mean is subcontracting scientific evidence to researched subjects overburdened with theoretical expectations and over-theorizations, a tendency which seldom turns out to provide sound empirical evidence. In this vein, Northern-led research not only tends to romanticize the South, which would not be new in postcolonial scholarship, but increasingly invites the South to actively participate in its own romanticization. Affected by “participatory approach fever”, many scholars in the Global North feel urged to depict their work as local, while also missing the fact that sharing their own conscious positionality vis-à-vis the researched would instead be an invaluable point of departure in the effort to avoid ethical and scientific failure. Indeed, such a self-acknowledgment would finally contribute to nuancing the multiple cultures in which research design, data collection, writing, and knowledge production are embedded – cultures that are hardly definable within the categories of “North” and “South”.

In light of these considerations, I ask myself how ethnographic studies can survive without being sociologically relevant and, at times, even culturally appropriate. Subcontracting the production of knowledge either to local researchers or to the researched themselves is certainly not a one-size-fits-all answer. Yet it looks unfeasible for many researchers across the globe to dispose of proper time and funding to conduct research over a longer timeframe and develop a localized understanding of the contexts they wish to study. I identified a similar issue when I realized that some researchers who have a poor command of the local language shy away from hiring an interpreter due to a lack of material means or because they are in an environment that frowns upon social science researchers who lack contextual skills. While peacefully sharing one’s own limits and assets would potentiate empirical analysis overall, everyone wants to be the “voice of the Global South”. Instead, no one wants to be the Global North, impeding a honest sociology of knowledge. Thus, how do we decolonize sociological and anthropological knowledge and, at the same time, the sociology of knowledge, if the drivers of epistemological coloniality, across Norths and Souths, have managed to make themselves invisible?


This research has been conducted in the framework of the project “Analyzing South-South Humanitarian Responses to Displacement from Syria: Views from Lebanon, Jordan and Turkey”, funded by the European Research Council under the Horizon 2020 Research and Innovation agreement no. 715582.

CALL FOR PAPERS: INTERSECTIONS OF HUMANITARIANISM

Kickoff workshop of the EASA Anthropology of Humanitarianism Network (AHN)

Goettingen, 01-03 November 2019

 

What does humanitarianism look like when it intersects with the state and the military? Or with the local ways of giving? What sort of help are we dealing with when humanitarian forms of reasoning and practice become intertwined with “that which is not humanitarianism”, to paraphrase Gupta (1995: 393)? Anthropological studies have suggested that a lot of work has to be invested into keeping up the boundaries of humanitarianism (Fassin 2012, Dunn 2018, Gilbert 2016). The result of this work has been a loose network of aid that moves throughout the world and replaces, suspends, or otherwise sidesteps state sovereignties in an attempt to save lives (Redfield and Bornstein 2011, Ticktin 2014, Schuller 2016, Ramsey 2017).

In this workshop, we will focus on what sort of hybrids emerge when, instead of maintaining its boundaries, humanitarianism intersects with other ways of thinking and acting. What kind of politics does this enable or prevent (cf. Feldman 2018)? What types of social dynamics, positions, and exclusions take place in such cases? We invite papers that explore the following five thematic strands:

  1. Humanitarianism and voluntarism: What happens when humanitarianism becomes intertwined with vernacular ideas about how to help others (including activism, solidarity, or charity)?
  2. Humanitarianism and military: how is the relationship between humanitarian aid and the use of military force evolving in the context of transnational securitization and border management?
  3. Humanitarianism and development: How do large-scale humanitarian initiatives relate to developmental projects?
  4. Humanitarianism and human rights: How does humanitarianization of state politics and human rights look like?
  5. Humanitarianism and religion: Which moral configurations emerge as part of humanitarian projects and how are they related to religious orders?

This will be the first meeting of the Anthropology of Humanitarianism Network (AHN), founded in 2018 by the European Association of Social Anthropologists (EASA), with an aim to provide a platform for a broad discussion on the meanings and practices of humanitarianism and on the possible future directions of an anthropological study of humanitarianism. The kickoff workshop “Intersections of humanitarianism” will provide a venue for the network members to meet in person, share ongoing research, and make plans for the future development of the network.

Please send abstracts of 200 words to ahn.easa@gmail.com as well as a 100 words bio by 30 June 2019.

The workshop “Intersections of Humanitarianism” is supported by EASA, Centre for Global Migration (CeMIG) of the Georg August University Goettingen, and Chr. Michelsen Institute.

Organizers:

Carna Brkovic, Georg August University Goettingen

Antonio De Lauri, Chr. Michelsen Institute

Jens Adam, Georg August University Goettingen

Sabine Hess, Georg August University Goettingen

 

The workshop is open to the public.

Recentering the side-lines. On the politics of “standing by”

Manifestation 1

I had not planned to encounter three different types of crowds on Saturday 16th March 2019. Ascending from the metro station Château-Rouge in the 18th arrondissement in Paris, I found myself surrounded by people apparently eagerly waiting for something to happen or someone to appear. There was music playing from a truck to my left side, and there were blue flags with a yellow star in the upper left corner and a red stripe across – the national flag of the Democratic Republic of Congo. I noticed that I was nearly the only white person watching what I estimated to have been around 1000 people gathering at the intersection of Bd. Barbès and rue Poulet, effectively bringing traffic to a halt with their bodies. There were some passers-by whose body language signaled irritation and disinterest: tourists on their way to Sacré-Cœur, eager to get lost, made their way up the hill and left the residents of Montmartre behind where the atmosphere seemed both cheerful and charged.

I noticed a multitude of cell phones held up high in the air. One man climbed a lamppost to get a better overview for his video. In the evening, I watched some such footage on private YouTube channels; some was even embedded in official news reports such as this one (RFI Afrique). I asked a fellow bystander, a woman in her forties, what was going on and she explained said that “we are waiting for our President, Martin Fayulu.” She also clarified that the acting President was someone else – Félix Tshisekedi – but that he had “stolen the peoples’ votes.” This was a march in support of their candidate’s rightful claim to the Presidency. A few minutes later, Fayulu appeared in the crowd, waving from the open sunroof panel of a black limousine. People began to follow the slowly moving car, with their cell phones still raised, recording the words he was shouting, which were hard to understand from where I was standing. Later, RFI Afrique quoted Fayulu as follows:

The goal is to let everyone know that there was cheating, that there was an electoral hold-up and make it clear to everyone that the Congo cannot be on the side-lines of democracy, that is to say, for example, to institute the rule “who loses-wins” (“qui perd-gagne”).

Fayulu and his followers were denouncing the current acting Congolese President here in France, the country whose own President had just met up with Tshisekedi at the One Planet Summit in Kenya. In a way, the Congolese diaspora in Paris was sidelined, having to passively watch their country’s political drama from afar and suffer President Macron’s diplomatic encounter with Tshisekedi. But the engagement of the attendants signaled otherwise: Hadn’t they organized and realized this march, weren’t they taking up space both physically in the streets of Paris, as well as in international news that day? Hadn’t their candidate shown up, hadn’t he realized that here, in the metropole of France, fellow Congolese would be able to see him for who he really was? Montmartre was not on the side-lines – it had become the center of a manifestation whose participants were winners and losers at the same time.

Manifestation 2

I left the singing and chanting crowd behind and walked down the hill towards the 8th arrondissement. At the riverbank, I noticed an increasingly noisome smell in the air. It was only then that I became aware of the incessant sound of police sirens around me and the whirring of helicopter blades. The smoke was getting stronger and people stopped in the narrow streets, looking up, starting conversations with others who had sensed the same, a large black cloud had gathered over our heads and the air became increasingly unbreathable. Shopkeepers left their premises and walked into the streets, tourists got up from their tables on the pavements to get a better view. Some people came running towards me, while others seemed unimpressed by the event, continuing in the direction of the cloud.

Remembering a recent explosion in a Parisian bakery, which was reported immediately worldwide even before it was clear whether it had been an accident or a terror attack, I decided to turn away. Entering the Boulevard des Italiens, I suddenly found myself in an empty street – no traffic, and only few people. I spotted three agitated men talking and shouting in the middle of the boulevard: two members of the gilet jaunes-movement engaged in what seemed to be a heated conversation with a man dressed in a duffle coat. Judging from the latter’s body language and facial expressions, I imagined him trying to “talk sense” into the two gilets jaunes, who, in response, laughed, shrugged off his remarks, turned around and moved on along the empty street. There were now more members of the movement following them, all coming from the direction of the Champs Elysees, which was over half an hour’s walk away, and one could have thought that they were going home from work, which in a sense they were. It was only then that I noticed the amount of destruction that surrounded me: broken glass on the pavement in front of the high-end cafés and designer stores. But also flower tubs and garbage bins that had been knocked over and dragged into the streets along with other containers and food trailers, all used to erect make-shift barricades. Further down the street there was also a burned-out newspaper kiosk, of which only charred metal remained. So, while private capital had been targeted, public property had been destroyed as well. While I had been aware of the demonstrations that had been going on over eighteen consecutive Saturdays, I had neither planned nor expected to encounter gilets jaunes-activities in this area, but even staying away from the Champs Elysees, where the manifestations had been most intense so far, could not guarantee avoiding the unrest that day.

In the evening, all news channels covered what had turned out to have been a particularly rough day in Paris. The media coverage focused on a “kill the rich”-graffiti, on a man wielding a chainsaw in the area around Arc de Triomphe, and on repeated footage of acts of destruction. This appeared extremely one-sided to me, as acts of police violence were shared only on social media. It was also on social media that I first found out that President Macron, who had returned from the summit in Kenya, had gone skiing in the Pyrenees for the weekend with his wife.

For an outsider like me, who only lived in Paris for a month, it was difficult to obtain unambiguous information about the “yellow vest”-movement, whose members usually are not residents of the city itself but come from the structurally disadvantaged countryside. Several online sites of the gilets jaunes are “under construction,” others will give you access only once you become a “member” and register. It turned out (in retrospect) to be fairly easy to access maps in order to see where and when protests and actions would take place, but less easy to read up on the movement’s organizational structure. Although internet users are encouraged to join up for “membership,” organizers tend to downplay the corporate aspect of their movement. On the gilets-jaunes.com site, for example, the “Who we are” section reads as follows:

We are a small team of volunteers who answer and advise you since October 26. We are the same team that created the official map of the rallies (35 million views). We do not belong to any party or political organization.” (my translation)

The tension between temporary “membership” signaled by putting on yellow vests, the need for virtual registration, and the rejection of any association with a “political organization” was perplexing: members without a group who register online for coordination. Another online site focuses more or less solely on the importance of organization for the self-proclaimed “militants,” invoking the common good, the “resistance” and various other popular tropes:

Both sites seem to reflect a desire for rather than de facto organization, while being careful to disavow association with any established institution. Whatever the political alignments, the information these sites release is multiplex or even inchoate, as it does not reveal a joint political message but rather speaks with a multitude of (often conflicting) voices. While one might argue that this allows the movement to go beyond established political categories and might even be one of its characteristics, the resulting multitude makes it difficult for by-standers to decode.

The reactions towards the gilets jaunes among my French colleagues and friends, both academic and non-academic, varied greatly. While some supported their demands, highlighting the need for labor reforms and criticizing the elitist and populist politics of Macron in particular, others were critical, emphasizing that right-wing extremists had managed to partly hijack the platform or that others are “in it” for the sheer joy of destroying public property. Finally, among Parisians, I noticed a strong sentiment of not taking “them” seriously. Many considered the gilets jaunes as outsiders, as people from rural areas with problems and concerns that they as city-zens did not share. The more systemic character of “those others who are coming into town” was revealed to me when I had coffee in my neighborhood a couple of days later, and a group of tourists on electric bikes cycled by, all wearing yellow vests for the sake of better visibility. “Attention! Les gilets jaunes!” screamed one person at a table next to me and other patrons at various tables began laughing. Another friend, herself a Parisian but living in Germany, sent a photograph to me on her recent trip back home showing a single man wearing a yellow vest and carrying the French flag. She subtitled the picture with the sentence “I have found one! [two smileys],” as if having spotted an exemplar of a rare species.

Picking up the sensual remains of a devastated landscape in the center of Paris that day in March, I felt I had become a bystander to political protest a second time. But not only me: thousands of others who populated the city partly watched and partly ignored the goings-on. We had not come out to protest, we had not even intended to witness, but we fully participated in “standing by.”

But my day was not over yet: I decided to continue towards rue St. Anne, into a quarter with mostly Japanese restaurants and shops. I was surprised to see the French Gendarmerie, a branch of the French armed forces, in full riot gear with military-grade weapons standing outside of noodle shops and antique stores. They were on a different kind of “stand-by”: not sure of their role, as I and others were, but passive (if intimidating) and waiting for orders.

Later during the week, I learned that the Gendarmerie is now being called upon more frequently to join the regular police force as the demands for abstract “security” had increased to such an extent that the police was given this (questionably proportional) support. After the French Prime Minister dismissed the head of the Paris police force in the aftermath of the gilets jaunes marches on Saturday 16 March, he had even ordered the deployment of anti-terror forces, the so-called dispositif Sentinelle, to maintain “law and order,” effectively turning Paris into a militarized zone.

 Manifestation 3

I made my way towards Les Halles, a run-down but much beloved shopping center in the middle of Paris that, especially at the weekend, turns into a meeting point for Parisian youth. It is always crowded in this area, but when I arrived at the entrance to Les Halles, I found the glass doors shut and protected by private security personnel in uniform, with muzzle-wearing German shepherds by their side. Positioned just behind the glass doors, they blocked everyone from entering the premises. I backed off and had decided to go home, when suddenly a group of about thirty youngsters began screaming and running away from the steep stairway. I noticed how quickly the people around me reacted, and for a few seconds I contemplated joining everyone in running, without knowing why. Instead, I just walked faster, still undecided how to respond. My heart was racing and my eyes swiveled left and right, trying to make sense of the situation.

“This is how it feels be when you are in the middle of a terrorist attack,” I found myself thinking; my previous encounters with the riot police in rue St. Anne had shifted my perception into high alert. But even then, I continued thinking in the abstract, still disbelieving that this was truly a dangerous situation. I remained on the side-lines a third time that day, even as I somehow picked up my pace in the wake of the others.

Eventually, I was running, too; only then did I realized that the whole situation had been set up as some sort of “breaching experiment”: The group of young people had staged an emergency, and succeeded in locking a large number of previously unrelated and non-interacting humans into a joint activity and interpretation of the situation. They had violated common-sense rules of public behavior; I assume because it empowered them, it gave them a rush of adrenaline, it made them feel in charge and made them laugh afterwards. Us others, who became part of their ethnomethodological exercise, had turned from Saturday shoppers, by-standers, and hanging-outers to a crowd that suddenly had something in common: fear. I could see it on their faces, I could sense it in the way the people dispersed in all directions within seconds, I could feel it inside my own chest.

The involuntarily communitas evaporated quickly and the rush petered out, as people realized that there was no discernible “source” to the sense of alarm (apart from a group of kids laughing) and no follow-up occurred. I was fed up, I felt tricked and angry that I had fallen for what turned out to be a sick joke and I decided to call it a day, walking back home across Pont Neuf and through St. Germain where everyday life seemed to go on as usual.

On the politics of standing by

The day left an impression on me: On three different occasions, I had become involved in collective types of behavior while standing on the side-lines. In Montmartre, I stood by a crowd that had been formed and was about to move. On the Boulevards, the crowd had already dispersed but left their mark, and in Les Halles, it formed and dispersed in front of my eyes. The types of demonstration that I stood by were markedly different: in Montmartre, it was a political manifestation of a diaspora population with their President that was realized on the territory of another state. On the Boulevards, it was a political manifestation of citizens against their own state, and at Les Halles it was a manifestation that was political in the sense that it piggybacked on globally circulating discourses of de-territorialized terror, thus independently of statehood and indiscriminately of the participating members’ backgrounds. Here, the French word manifestation shows its aptness to cover all three events.

What united the events for me is that I felt I had no say in any of them. I did not belong, nor did I know what was going on. Yet in all three cases, I did take part as my body was “added up” to the number of other bodies present. The events made me think of the relation between political action and the side-lines. In the anthropology of the state, we have had long-lasting discussions about approaching “the state” tangentially by re-centering its “margins,” investigating its borders or its infrastructural materializations. But, in the arena of national politics, there is a widespread moral expectation that citizens should be informed about politics and exert agency to “take part” rather than merely “standing by” apathetically. Especially in light of the recent (ethno-)nationalist shifts towards the right in Europe, there has been an increasing demand on people to not close their eyes to the right’s attempts to claim the streets.

In ethnomethodological studies, the acquisition of “membership knowledge” is regarded as a prerequisite for being able to analyze the practices of the actors the researcher intends to study. But what kind of knowledge is there to be acquired if a crowd consists mostly by-standers? In these instances of collective behavior, the emphasis cannot be on knowledge or on being able to “read” a certain situation, let alone participation proper. It is more about feeling one’s way through, working with one’s fallible senses and intracorporeal interaction that aligns one’s movement and pace with those of others.

What if situations such as the ones I found myself are more than a dysfunctional by-product of politics? Should we not reconceptualize the very practice of “standing by” as central aspect of politics? Is “standing by” without sufficient information and no personal commitment not what characterizes the de facto political position of a majority?

It is not the case that we now live in more politicized societies than previous generations did or that political fragmentation is “the new normal.” The difference is that most of us are regular by-standers of political action, and are as such involved in the production of a particular kind of political public sphere that impacts all our lives in tremendous ways – we get inured to the presence of armed forces in our streets, we are no longer surprised to breathe in teargas or burned rubber, and we normalize avoiding certain areas during certain times of the day or night, or circumvent crowds altogether. But is “standing by” as political as throwing stones? While we have known for a long time that those who “knew” and yet did nothing were an essential element of historical wrongs, “knowing” is problematic when it comes to manifestations as the ones I described. “Standing by” depends on not fully knowing; it also smudges the distinction between full members and people who think of themselves merely “at the side-lines” of political action.

To end on methodology, I would argue that becoming “anthropological by-standers” is a pragmatic approach to studying how most people experience public politics. While the investigation of movements, resistance and direct action remains essential, joining the tourists in sipping their 5€ expresso as a black cloud of burning rubber hangs over their heads, observing the police forces who are told to “stand by” until new orders are given and hanging out on street corners, thus turning our eyes away from the immediate “action” for a moment helps us assume the perspectives of those on the side-lines. Because it is there that the majority of us become part of public politics.