Thoughts on The Anthropological Field on the Margins of Europe, 1945-1991 by Aleksandar Boskovic and Chris Hann

Anthropology – the study of humanity – has a well-argued history over the nature of the discipline.  Can it be objective, when it’s the product of an author that is to some extent subjective? Can the observed group of people really open up to the researcher about their ways of life?  To what extent do ideologies intersect with anthropology to shape what is studied, how it is studied, and ‘when’ it was studied? In this book, the central question is to what extent anthropology has been swayed by nationalism, and later socialism, in its development as a discipline.

The interplay in this book is between western ideas of anthropology merging in with local practices of folklore, ethnology and ethnography. It also looks at the dichotomy of local and foreign anthropologists (and folklorists) and their impact on the nature of the discipline in each country, all under differing conditions of nationalism, socialism and levels of intrusion by the state.

One of the keys to understanding this text is to have an awareness of the political climate during the period, and the tumult that occurred. The examples range from orthodox communism as in Albania, through to conservative militaristic rule as was the case for a while in Greece, and via Titoism in Yugoslavia – all having periods of strict then relaxed impositions of ideology, with some having changes in ideology too. But the one process that they all went through was democratization, the end date of this book.

Yet, underneath the political clouds above, there were clashes between those who practiced the different methods of the study of humanity – whether in the present or historically.  For many, this book will read as an emergence from the outmoded ways of the study of folklore towards the western standard of social and cultural anthropology. Or, in other words, a move from an inward looking study of oneself, to one where comparison with others takes precedence. Nationalism or, more specifically, the extent to which the state reifies the dominant nation, is evident when looking at which communities are studied by folklorists/anthropologists.

The first example of this is Greece, where an oscillation of direction within the folkloric/anthropological field occurred. These have been strongly tied to the political leadership of the country, swaying between conservative dominance harking to a more folkloric unveiling of the past of Greek people, to the reformist Government in the late 1950s wanting state to have a modern vision and the ‘other’ to be studied. And back again. As the 21^st century approached, the education of students in western universities saw social anthropology being brought into Greece more pro-actively, but still having to compete with the historic and entrenched folklore of the past.

In Albania, the epistemological debates were secondary to historical materialism, relying heavily on a Marxist version of history, to draw up an ethnographic/ethnological narrative derived from Engels. Again the narrative was used to explain how ‘ancient’ the Albanians were by exploring folklore, yet while wanting to discover folkloric artefacts, the ideology also wanted it banished. Strict adherence to the one party state was obligatory, and thus no other methods of anthropology were explored.

Although under Socialism and with Marxist thought being the favourite methodology and practice, studying communities didn’t properly emerge in Slovenia until the late 1940s, and even then folklore and ethnology was dominant, as it was pre World War II. This detailed material, social and spiritual culture via a classificatory system and through collecting artefacts. After World War II there were no paradigms or theoretical perspectives to follow, so collection took priority over interpretation. From the 1950s onwards, academic trips and contacts began to occur, albeit limited. But this led individuals to move towards ethnology and the methods of analysis of daily culture and phenomena, allowing students in the 1970s and beyond to study and develop the variety of subjects they could discover.

Macedonia is probably one of the more intriguing because of its history prior to 1945 being that of a contested area by Albanians, Bulgarians, Greeks and Serbs.  The forbearers to anthropology all had a ‘nationalising’ slant to their work.  During socialism, Macedonia had to contend with the 4 established nation-states around it assessing it, claiming it, whilst looking for areas of similarity in order to acquire it. But the authors look more at how knowledge was produced in the work of the academics, and how politics had penetrated deeply their modes of working. Although the paradigm shifted from socialism to ethno-nationalism during this period, the two approaches of folklore and ethnology still worked on creating and recreating the nationhood of Macedonians.

One key observation is that this book buys-in to the ‘national narrative’ because the states that had a settled will of how anthropology should be researched, always saw the limits of its own borders as the limits of research. The investigation into the origins and development of the nation became the task these academics were enrolled in, irrespective of the name given to them by their methodology; social anthropologist, folklorist etc. Each state had a dominant nation, and those communities who could be studied had to confirm and reconfirm the uniqueness of that nation, irrespective if the political leaders were socialist or conservative. This is still the case after democratisation.

When reading anthropological texts, one should always place into context the time of writing and the persuasion of the author. One can never be purely objective, whether that is when classifying cultural or material objects, or when analysing and describing social relations and rituals in a community. As humans, we have our own unique perspective of the world, and base our judgments of the meaning of objects, rituals, and relations from that perspective. Whether from the community or foreign to it, the meanings will be different, and over time can and will change.  So by accepting the subjectivity of this social science, we can develop our own interpretation of those studied peoples, which have themselves been re-interpreted by the social scientists in a myriad of ways.

Thoughts on Ger Duijzings’ Religion and the Politics of Identity in Kosovo

Although Kosovo is its locus, this book observes the developments of several ethno-religious groups in the region on a wider scale, with focus on different aspects of identity. Duijzings brushes off the carte blanche descriptions and nationalist narratives of the two dominant ethnic groups/nationalities, the Serbs and Albanians, to demonstrate a deeper and wider plethora of people's with a distinct yet shared history and territory in the late 1990’s. How identities play out, are flexible (then rigid), and the complexities of these on social/political and economic relations are what is threaded throughout his work. One example is Letnica and its Catholic minority, about how they lived there, looking at the overarching battles that narrowed to two national narratives that they could not identify with, and their moving to Croatia proper. The next is the example of the diffuse Muslim identity, initially viewed as a unified whole across Yugoslavia, with its splits between official and Sunni, beside unorthodox dervish practices and Shi'a tendencies. Whilst he delivers ethnographic accounts, he also provides historical overviews of how these identities, national and religious, formed; and explains how objective and subjective relations meant that some peoples were included and excluded in these group/social events and practices. Fundamentally he portrays an image of religions that co-existed, tolerated each other, and shared each other’s holy sites; yet witnessing a descent into isolation and confrontation. The concept of syncretism is applied to highlight how religious practices on the ground weren’t those imposed via orthodoxy nor a pure form dictated from above, especially when new religions came to the fore and needed accommodating. This mirror’s Tone Bringa’s work in ‘Being Muslim the Bosnian Way’, which looked at village life in a Croat/Muslim mixed village on the eve of the collapse of Socialist Yugoslavia.

One specific and novel group he (re)’discovered’ were the 'Egyptians', who were presumed to be a new phenomenon, although lots of ethnographic and linguistic work has been written on this group. Debates around their 'origin' play to perennial views on nations and national identity, but Duijzings critiques these and suggests that, even if one took the term Gypsy as the core of their identity, the current identity was pulled together from diverse historical fragments and forged into a generic 'outsider' label. But this also aligns with the 'nestling orientalism' thesis, whereby this group wants to disassociate themselves with those identities that others seek to place them with. So the Egyptians use classifications to say why they are not like Gypsies, socio-economically or culturally. And so this argument builds by looking at the process of Albanianisation of Muslim Gypsies, to show how one group of people (Serb and Macedonian authorities) claim they wished to assimilate and wanted no conflict, and those groups themselves who had no vehicle for official recognition up to the 1990s. In detailing this recognition vis-a-vis the census, he describes the group’s mimicry which led to them being unaccounted for. This ties in with themes in my previous book review, that of Christian Promitzer et al, of groups hiding or being hidden.

In tandem with this he looks at the timing 'of emergence', or more precisely, who were the political rulers at any particular time. He errs close to portraying a clientistic relationship, where state jobs are sought and thus identity alters or (re) appears to curry favour. But he fundamentally dilutes the 'invention of Egyptians' argument because identity traits must have resided locally anyway. It was timing and changes to the political discourse that allowed a space for these to come together on a wider, national space.

Yet by 1990, ethnic unmixing had already reached its goal, with communities having as little contact between them as possible. All have suffered, not just one side or another. It wasn’t ‘ethnic problems’ as such, but problems ethnicized by politicians and populations at ease to point the finger, and so one needs to see the problems from a politico-socio-economic perspective not an ethnic-national one. To resolve this, he declared that democracy and an opposition were needed in Serbia.

Although this prescription was a viable one when the book was being written, in the immediate years after publication the world witnessed the fall of Milosevic, and Kosovo was already being run as a UN protectorate. So events altered to hamper this path to de-escalation of the ethnic unmixing. Instead, secession and ultimately independence, seen as the answer, created new problems. As is the nature of nationalism, when a political boundary is newly defined, nations not happy with the delineation argue for a revision or for secession themselves. Hence the Serbs of the northern enclave of Mitrovica demanded their ‘right’ to leave Kosovo. And so the spiral continues. Thus the artificial maintenance of groups seen as ‘units’ continues, whether that’s on the ground as tangible relations (or lack thereof) between people, or merely from a theoretical point of view. And the myths used as a tool for unmixing leading to the solidification of these groups as units, seen by Duijzings as having a lifespan, continue to have a powerful negative impact, despite democratization in Serbia and independence of Kosovo.

So the return to a Venn diagram of ‘groupness’, as ethnographically accounted for by the author, is still a far way off. Yet, this does not underline and prove the nationalist argument that violence is the result of these differences in cultural traits. It is the conclusion reached from that very Western, enlighlightened, and rational notion of the nation-state.

What Duijzing’s provides us with is a deconstruction of the usual debate around identity in Kosovo. By ethnographically portraying the people within the area, he knocks down the binary of two, fixed identities of Serbs and Kosovans, as so typically seen by people in the West, and develops an overview of a diverse people whose path to unmixing stemmed from political and socio-economic factors ethnicised by political leaders. One could claim, however, that by unveiling ‘new’ identities in the region he is simply following the nationalist argument and identifying these groups as units. But I would agree with his assertion that there aren’t groups, but groupness. And what he portrays is a centre/periphery description of how one subjectively accounts for one’s own identity, and that the concentric circles of identity classifications that flow from the centre multifariously link up with identities’ of the ‘other’. So although the centres may not match, the lesser priority identity classifications may do so and create that common bond. The sharing of religious sites is a prime example of how this was done in Kosovo.

Thoughts on Christian Promitzer et al's (Hidden) Minorities

Deriving its contents from papers and discussions presented at a workshop on the Alpine-Adriatic region in 2002, this book looks at language and ethnic minorities in the region that do not necessarily 'fit' into the usual narratives on nationalism. The analyses turn away from the assumption that these groups are rigid, homogenised, and eternal, and thus as unusual examples of nation building 'gone wrong', but delivers an alternative narrative by ethnographically portraying the development of these groups under the forces of nationalism, globalisation, modernisation, and viewing them through the prism of minority rights legislation in the region. Using the urban/rural dichotomy, public/private use of language, economic liberation etc, the book attempts to account for how these groups have evaded being 'recognised' by hiding or being hidden vis-a-vis the state or other recognised minorities, and failing to succumb to objective definitions of how their ethnic or linguistic kin ought to be constituted.

The theoretical framework that underpins the book emanates from older debates around ethnicity and nations, recalling the likes of Anthony Smith and his primordial/perennial case, listing categories that make up the ethnie; or Ernest Gellner's retort that nations are the result of modernity. The latter point is what the authors agree on, and thus they coalesce around Rogers Brubaker who writes that ethnicity and nationality 'are not things in the world, but perspectives on the world'. Hence, in terms of identity, they observe the relationship between subjective factors accounting for ones own identification to the community, in the 'self/other' guise, and the objective classifications of what one's identity is by external groups or institutions. Yet all the while, their observations reel back to how hidden minorities place their identity within the locality.

Sited in the region as it is, one of the points of departure are the placing of political borders. This involves analysis of groups that straddle or are contained within new state boundaries, and how this has impacted on the objective and subjective categories that define those linguistic or ethnic groups. An example would be in Duska Knezevic-Hocevar's chapter on the Kolpa River acting as a new political boundary encompassing the residents of the Kolpa Valley. Here, linguistic analysis of the past century lent itself to nationalist interpretation, not because it revolved around two written standards of Slovene and Croat, as this was a modern phenomenon, but those linguists wanted to portray the independent developments of the two languages that became the common local tongue. They explained the dialects away as sub standard local dialects of the two higher standards in an attempt to make the two languages ahistorical and thus 'natural' for them to be separated. This jarred with how the locals saw it because, for them, the locally spoken language was the same either side of the river. Alongside this analysis, Knezevic-Hocevar described the dynamics of national identity, and the paradox of locals not necessarily feeling strong national identities (as they had mixed families) yet using the language of national stereotypes in their day to day conversations.  

This placing of a border brought with it the assumption that the people on the ground on either side would automatically affiliate with their newly designated co-nationals. Yet this was not the case. And this moves on to another theme in the book revolving around the relation between a group being hidden or hiding and the application of minority rights legislation within the state they reside. Many factors are involved in this debate; the size of the group, does it have 'supposed' co-nationals in another state, does it have supposed 'co-nationals in the state they reside in and how do they relate to them vis-a-vis state legislation on minority rights, do they want to hide or would they prefer to carry ethnic/lingustic traits in private, the timing of when borders were put up, are they from the countryside or town, or have they migrated far as a group either recently or in the distant past. All these factors, and more, create dynamic situations that each group contends with in its relation with the state. One particular example is Klaus-Jurgen Hermanik's study of the Slovenes of Styria, which analyses the identity constructions that have occurred in the area over the last two centuries. What this chapter highlights is the difference between 'hiding' one's ethnic/linguistic traits, however one would classify them, and being 'hidden' from the view of the state and/or other ethnic/linguistic minorities. Overarching this, is how political borders have changed, how laws within the these altered states changed, but crucially, how the relations between the group and these institutions played out as part of borderland dynamics. In the Slovene's case, Germanisation, economic marginalisation, and political oppression led to the group 'hiding' themselves. Yet they were 'hidden', because some still had private use of Slovenian, but wouldn't think of using it in public. Thus, a signifier that would usually be viewed as an ethnic/linguistic unifier of minority groups, was weak and so did not lead to the group being conscious of their own collectivity, and so were not 'seen' in the eyes of the state.

What this book does best is to inform the reader of other perspectives on how ethnic and linguistic groups are formed in the Alpine-Adriatic region. The writers don't presume, from the outset, that these groups are ahistorical and perennial entities, but neither do they treat the information gathered from informants during ethnographic research with disrespect and scepticism. What they do, is develop theories on how identities are formed and explain how groups perceive themselves and their views on how the world views them. Parallel to this, they try and put it into historical contexts regarding state collapse and (re)formation, where borders fall, and globalisation. As stated before, identities aren't just the sum of a checklist of classificatory 'things' in the world that form a perfectly defined group. Instead, identities are fluid and continually changing phenomenon whose edges are blurry, and have to content with subjective and objective perceptions of what 'we' and 'they' are. This book ought to frustrate nationalists who believe that groups can be rigidly defined and exclusive, as this text shows that even in the era of the 'nation-state', some areas in the world fail to conform to the nationalist dream.

Thoughts on Gerald Creed's 'Masquerade and Postsocialism: Ritual andCultural Dispossession in Bulgaria'

2014 saw the relaxation of the transition controls that were imposed on Bulgaria after it was accepted into the EU as a mechanism to reduce the number of workers who travelled west seeking employment. Whilst this has been at the forefront of British media and political discourse over the past two months, and with it this notion that large swathes of Bulgarians teeming at the border eager to plant themselves in the UK, this refreshing text enlightens us with the converse notion. Creed returns to the villages of Bulgaria and their remaining residents to observe the annual celebratory events known as kukeri or survakari, and seeks to place them in their new postsocialist, globalised setting.

Kukeri, or mumming as it is known in English, is as striking in its visual display as it is unique in the rituals that it follows in the early months of the New Year. Creed, in his general introductory observations, describes the participants as usually having masks, furs, bells, a staff, and an assortment of other props. A usual celebration lasts a day or two, and starts from the making of the masks or the unpacking of ones from past events. The acts that make up this event consist, in varying order, of a procession, a ritual dance around a fire in an open space in the village, trips to nearby villages or visitors from them to perform together, setting up road blocks for ‘donations’, but all contain a central event – the procession around each of the houses in the village.

Each participant is assigned a different role, and each has their part to play during the proceedings. Even these adhere to village specific protocols. All the participants are traditionally men, their varying roles including the bride, the groom, a priest, an arap or gypsy, a bear and bear tamer, as well as other carnivalesque figures. He describes many visits, ranging from those residents accepting them cheerfully; to those who are obviously not playing the game, to those who lavish food, brandy and paper money or those less able that provide eggs, beans or coins to the guests. Mocking of the people or property through pinching or throwing yard furniture around is to be expected. The perishable booty is then consumed and money counted in the evening. This could be repeated the next day.

What Creed then does is go one to describe in more detail individual rituals but in the context of four themes: Gender and sexuality, civil society and democracy, autonomy and community, and ethnicity and nationalism. On the first, he looks at how gender relations have evolved through socialism and postsocialism, and how the mumming ritual took on or replaced lost symbolic meanings for men as women became more equal. Also, since socialism departed a Western image of homosexuality arrived and began to alter the way in which an all male troupe saw their innocent comradeship, especially centered on the transvestite bride.  Katherine Verdery and Jane Sugarman in their commanding review for the Slavic Review (Vol. 71, No. 1 (SPRING 2012), pp. 135-137) focus on Creed’s analysis of masculinity in this context, and highlight his observation that prior to the transition masculinity was a ‘whole’ and took on many behaviours, but now rested on a continuum whereby being a lesser ‘man’ equates with new ‘feminized’ behaviours. The homogenization of gender and sexuality roles is the consequence of postsocialism. In looking at civil society, he takes umbrage at the West’s perception of what civil society does and what it should look like. Mumming, he argues, has taken on this role, as the state withdrew during the transition, and it either retained or nurtured further relations between villagers and villages. Accepting that civil society can be formal and informal, in its interactions with the state, he sees elements of civil society in mumming that the West tend to ignore because he believes it is seen as a premodern ritual in a supposed modern state (i.e. a representative democracy with a formal civil society); and thus not accepted to be included in such classifications.

In terms of the third theme, he observes the paradoxes of conflict and atomization & community that the rituals express in social relations in the village. On the one hand social relations express conflict – over booty, over who plays what roles, between the performers and the villagers in their homes, or between rival groups. But it also showcases unity – in the face of ‘outsiders’ such as other village troupes, arguments between families actually underscore their unity as a ‘village’ through the autonomy and interdependence of households. Finally, in addressing ethnicity and nationalism, he looks at the character of the gypsy in the mumming ritual along side the inclusion of Roma in the events themselves. Although inclusion was ambivalent with racism still present, mumming allowed Roma to participate because indigenous Roma (according to the villagers) were ‘their’ Roma. However, the threat to inclusion was always from those who returned and never interacted with the Roma on a daily basis, anchored in ethnic Bulgarian feelings of national inferiority. And so Creed ends by mourning the modernizing trends in mumming ritual and appearance, as a result of the transition from socialism and the penetration of Euro-American norms.

Creed’s text does provide a provocative insight into one cultural event that Bulgarian’s enact by weaving it into a polemic on the legacies of socialism, the ‘transition’ and the difficulties of postsocialism for the ‘village’ and villagers. But by describing mumming as ‘modernity in drag’ he does perhaps pine too much for what he sees as a ritual that had better days before it, and perhaps even under socialism. But he does this not from a rose tinted view of the ‘golden age of mumming’, but more as a critique of how Western imaginings, assumptions and concepts have altered the symbolism and meanings the rituals had as they were carried out by the mummers. I would argue though that the cultural value of the ritual must still be worth something if villagers continue to practice it, even if it has ‘modernised’ in its attempt to be more Western. And this chimes with Creed’s pursuit to account for the increase in the practice of mumming. The fact that the celebration takes place owes much to the value it has to the participants and the observers, many who travel home to witness it, despite the overarching postsocialist and neoliberal challenges to it from outside ‘the village’.