The image of the other –

Friend, foreigner, patriot?*

 

 

 

 

 

Aleksandar Boškoviæ

University of the Witwatersrand

Johannesburg, South Africa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exergue: (Dis)Locations

 

I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, all of those that merge, those that past, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I’m something quite different, a quite different thing. 

                                                (Beckett 1958: 386)

 

 

In selecting the topic for today’s seminar I was considering both the place (location) where I am speaking and the place (location) where I come from. Istanbul as the metaphor for alterity within European alterities (and the perennial question: is TurkeyIstanbul included – part of “Europe” or not?), metaphor of the exotic and distant other, “Oriental” but yet understandable in the “Occidental” sense and therefore somehow “acceptable”. (Everyone looks more or less “European” – race dichotomies are not present so mostly rich and mostly white visitors can relax and enjoy.) Tourists should come to Istanbul. (I am quite happy to be a tourist for a couple of days as well.) Istanbul has made it to songs, all kinds of advertisements, and even a recent James Bond film. It is an other that is somehow close to “home” (several hours flight from most West European capitals) – if not that easy to situate geographically (as it is on the border of “Europe” and Asia – creating it, being this very border). But I do not think that I can say to you anything new on this subject – I believe that you know it better than anyone else. On the other hand, there are a couple of things that I can say with some (modest – mostly based on personal experience) degree, and it relates to the other immediate alterity – the place or places where I come from.

 

The location of where I come from is a somewhat complicated matter. I came here from South Africa, where I am doing research (and some teaching), previously I taught in Brazil, before that in Slovenia (where I still have a Visiting Associate Professorship), former Yugoslavia, and Scotland (UK). That makes five countries and three continents – so far. I grew up bilingual (between the language formerly known as Serbo-Croatian and the Macedonian) and bicultural (between urban Belgrade in the north and rural-urban Resen in the south), so the notion of plurality (of more than one culture, language, possible interpretation, voice, etc.) in all its aspects was part of my everyday experience throughout my life. The part of the world where I come from (former Yugoslavia, or whatever it is called now, Republic of Macedonia, former SFR Yugoslavia, Balkans) is highly unstable (politically, historically, etc.) — in the 20th century alone these territories have been occupied three times, and Belgrade (the city where I have spent most of my adult life) has been razed to the ground 32 times in the more than 2000 years of its history (twice in the 20th century alone). 

 

Therefore, I simply do not have a notion of stability and order, so common in most of the Western European cultures, with their institutions and traditions of political life going back for decades and perhaps centuries. The notion of flux, instability, constant change (involving total destruction) and uncertainty is something that comes “naturally” to me — but I am well aware how frightening these notions might be for someone raised to think in specifically well-determined and well-defined categories. (I am not implying here that all change is the same — but I do feel at ease with the notion of constant change.) What is today the Republic of Macedonia, was occupied throughout most of its history, its language was suppressed or banned for several decades in this century (1912-1944), and it still practically banned among the Slav Macedonian population in Northern Greece.

 

On the other hand, the hyperreality of the remnants of ex-Yugoslavia is both comical and sad, as I wrote elsewhere. Most recently, the name of the country has been changed into “Serbia and Montenegro”, rendering any mention of “Yugoslavia” obsolete, so you can imagine how does one who identifies himself as an ex-Yugoslav fit there. (It is interesting to note that the same people who were the first to light the flames of war in an attempt “to preserve Yugoslavia” in 1991 were the same ones who initiated and celebrated the final demise of the name “Yugoslavia”.) My distaste for nationalism and nationalist ideologies makes me a strange other in Belgrade, while my suspicion for any grand ideological projects marks me as a suspicious other almost anywhere else. Therefore, alterity is for me something that I take along. A part of my personal baggage – never checked in, always with me.

 

This sense of alterity (dis)locates the spaces that I inhabit as well as the ones where I wish to go. There is a strange reality, of course, in which my (Macedonian) passport identifies me without any ambiguity as a “non-European” in Western Europe, and as a “European” in South Africa or Brazil. I have to admit that I do not know what “Europe” is – in an interesting 1998 book (“Europe between euphoria and euthanasia”), Slovenian philosopher Tomaæ Mastnak claims that the very idea arose only as the sense of closedness and the necessity of making barriers emerged – claiming that the idea of “Europe” as we know it is intrinsically connected to and associated with the (post-15th century) Western Europeans’ hatred of Muslims. Another interesting look at the issue is in Julia Kristeva’s book on the Crisis of the European Subject, where she questions the “European” identity – from the perspective that there should be more general, universal humanist values that must take precedence over particular tribal or ethnic feelings. This is a type of “humanism” that I respect, despite feeling uneasy about its universalist pretensions. I am close to the opinion that “Europe” is a boundary, a construction of a privileged club that decides who will be let in and who will stay outside. As I have never been in, I have no idea what is it like.

 

Last but not least, there is a bit of uneasiness as to what is the scientific (or “scholarly”) discipline I come from. Having my Ph.D. from social anthropology forces me into some kind of professional identity (reinforced by membership in several professional organizations), but I am very reluctant to accept it. I feel that what I am about to say here fits much more along the borders of two vast fields – of “cultural studies” and of “social sciences” (although some of my friends would like to push me somewhere into the “humanism” as well). In effect, my research does create a certain (anthropological, social-science) bias, but my intentions are cross-disciplinary and inter-disciplinary. I hope that what I am about to say will be understandable to people from different scholarly backgrounds. 

 

 

Imagining the other

 

Modernity, by comparison, seems never to have entertained similar doubts as to the universal grounding of its status. The hierarchy of values imposed upon the world administered by the north-western tip of the European peninsula was so firm, and supported by powers so enormously overwhelming, that for a couple of centuries it remained the baseline of the world vision, rather than an overtly debated problem. Seldom brought to the level of consciousness, it remained the all-powerful ‘taken-for-granted’ of the era. It was evident to everybody except the blind and the ignorant that the West was superior to the East, white to black, civilized to crude, cultured to uneducated, sane to insane, healthy to sick, man to woman, normal to criminal, more to less, riches to austerity, high productivity to low productivity, high culture to low culture. All these ‘evidences’ are now gone. Not a single one remains unchallenged. What is more, we can see now that they did not hold in separation from each other; they made sense together, as manifestations of the same power complex, the same power structure of the world, which retained credibility as long as the structure remained intact, but were unlikely to survive its demise.

                                                            (Bauman 1993: 135-136)

 

  

Hatred and fear usually go together. In a strange twist, they can also be programmed retroactively, as witnessed by some observers (and pointed by some cultural critics like Slavoj Žižek) in the case of the former Yugoslavia, where journalists, diplomats and various people of good will went around asking people “Isn’t it true that you always hated your neighbors?” and projecting their own fantasies of conflict and negotiation. Unsurprisingly, the members of the public let them live out their fantasies in full, confirming that indeed “they always hated their neighbors” – even though they knew it was not true. Somehow, however, this made sense – in a world divided between Good and Evil, the Evil ones were a necessity. Furthermore, they could then justify the claims that the results of the horrendous war for territories (masked as “ethnic conflict”) should be accepted as fait accompli – no right of the return for millions of refugees, for example (as implied recently by a noted American anthropologist – cf. Hayden 2002).

 

A kind of a global rationalization of inequality among peoples occurred in the late 16th and early 17th centuries CE. The “discovery” of the New World, as well as the debates that followed on the issue of slavery[1] permanently changed the Western world. The encounter with “the other” brought shock and amazement along with the large-scale ethnocide and at the same time ecocide, but it also broadened intellectual horizons.[2]

           

The debates that arose immediately after the Spanish conquest of America are primarily associated with the name and life of Bartolomé de las Casas (1484-1566), traditionally regarded as a symbol (or at least, a figure of immense importance) of the struggle for dignity of the American Indians (or, in the current politically correct usage, Native Americans). Actually, Las Casas can be seen (in a historical context) as a continuation of the efforts of his fellow Dominicans, Antonio de Montesinos and Pedro de Córdoba, who were already refusing to hear the confessions of the Spanish settlers at Santo Domingo (Haiti), based on what they have considered to be inhuman treatment of the native population (Boskovic 1997a). Las Casas went a little further in asking for the abolition of encomiendas and repartimientos,[3] as something in itself evil and immoral.  In a letter to the King Carlos V in 1516, he wrote that “it is better to lose all the lands overseas, than to allow that such horrible injustices be done in the name of the king”. With the support of the Dominican theologians from the University of Salamanca,[4] Las Casas eventually succeeded (with great help of the Spanish royalty!) in arguing for laws that abolish encomiendas and that grant (at least formally, if not in practice) freedom to the native population, in 1542.

           

However, the theoretical question of the use of force in converting the native population to the “true faith” and “true God” had already been raised by the lawyer from Córdoba, Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda, in his treatise “Democrates alter sive de iustis belli causis” (Rome, 1535). Sepúlveda stressed the fact that the Indians were, in his opinion, “infidels, barbarians, and slaves by their very nature” — and all this led to the famous discussion between him and Las Casas in 1548 at Valladolid in Spain. In this discussion, Las Casas claimed that the differentiation of the civilized peoples and the barbarians could not be based on ethnic, cultural and religious differences, but on the fact that there were people who respected freedom and the natural rights of others and people that do not respect these rights. Although the royal auditors never officially declared the outcome of this debate, the fact that shortly after the debate (in 1552) Las Casas published his Brevísima relación... , while Ginés de Sepúlveda never received permission to publish any of his subsequent polemical works, speaks for itself.[5] Unfortunately, this was one of the last instances that voices and concerns of the other were so publicly respected in the West European cultural and political discourse. Another tradition, another way of obtaining knowledge was about to impose itself as a master narrative (or metanarrative) of the time. The burden of dealing (and answering to the challenges of) the unknown had become too heavy.

           

The unknown that was introduced to the Western world in the late 15th and early 16th century were other worlds. Of course, the contacts and the interchange between Western and non-Western cultures had a long history, but it was always limited by sheer distance or in some cases simple cultural incompatibility (mostly based on the premises of different religions or different ideological systems). In the case of the Western European expansion that started in late 15th and early 16th century with Columbus reaching the Antilles in 1492 and Vasco da Gama sailing around Africa in 1498, the “West” put itself in a position of absolute domination and control, its master narrative was to become a master narrative of the whole world that it wanted to subjugate; it had appropriated (“discovered”) new worlds, and something had to be done about it.

           

What was done was essentially a rationalist revolution, initiated by René Descartes in philosophy and Sir Isaac Newton in science. This revolution claimed the separation between the mind and the body, it started to treat different systems of knowledge as always incompatible, different systems of values as mutually exclusive, and at the same time set up a standard (of the Western colonial powers in expansion — although, to be clear, neither Descartes or Newton were particularly involved or interested in the colonial expansion) that was to become the standard for judging and evaluating all other (different) cultures. This stood in sharp contrast to the humanist ideals of the Renaissance (in fact, Toulmin calls this revolution “Retreat from the Renaissance” [1990: 30]), and it has made several important breaks with the earlier tradition.[6]

           

First of all, the emphasis shifts from the oral to the written, rhetoric losing its position as a legitimate field of study, and the stress is put on the rational presentation of arguments, in the sense of producing proofs. Who presents the arguments, in which context, to what audience, becomes totally irrelevant. Decontextualization enters the West European science and humanities. Secondly, there is a shift from the particular to the universal; in the world that was becoming (colonially) globalized, particular cases and situations lost their importance, the laws are set with universalist claims (primarily in the context of raging religious wars in Europe).       

           

If respecting the other was implicit in the moral and philosophical theories of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, from the 17th century onwards, this respect became irreconcilable with the strategies of domination, where the other had to be subsumed under the General Law of Reason. There is an important shift from the timely to the timeless, closely associated with the new strategies. While in previous centuries scholars paid much more attention to the context of specific situations (following the advice from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics), this interest is lost in the rationalist revolution.

 

Although Toulmin looks at this break primarily from the perspective of the actual political and historical context of the 17th century Europe (which led to the savage war that from 1618 until 1648 raged in Germany and Bohemia), his arguments deal with the characteristics of Modernity itself, its emphasis on rationalization, the pursuit of Truth, and the quest for certainty that eventually became self-fulfilling.

 

 

“European” rationality – the Modernist project

 

The basic presupposition, it seems to me, still stands: namely, that the question is not “Fascism – yes or no?”, but “How much fascism?”.

                                                (Moènik 1998: 10)

 

 

Two concepts are of special interest for me here – universality and rationality. They are both interconnected in the big project initiated five centuries ago: universality sweeps away all the potential differences between cultures in contact, as rationality tells “us” that even if “we” would recognize the differences, there is still the good and the evil, and it is clear where the good is. The dominant culture does not ever posit itself as just one of the many – it firmly positions itself as the model against which all the other cultures (peoples, customs, moral codes, individual behavior, etc…) will be measured and judged. The dominant culture of the era is the culture (or “civilization” – as Huntington would call it) – the other ones are merely exotic appendages, places to spend a holiday, or sources of raw industrial materials. The look of the colonial or imperial masters is important here – others are observed or studied, photographs taken of exotic-looking people in their “ethnic” dress, others are examined like specimens to be dissected (as seen in the numerous textbooks dealing with “racial types” – cf. the examples mentioned in Boni 2002 and Bloom 1990, 1999). With benevolence of the imperial master, some things and some individuals might be more acceptable than others.

 

In a recent paper, in his typically irreverent style, Žižek (2001) has questioned the perceived limits of our tolerance for other cultures and points of view. He looks at the other extreme, at the paradoxes brought by completely equating different points of view and different perspectives (for example, a German Nazi film director complaining in 1950 how American Jews don’t understand him – 2001: 340). I am a bit uneasy with the broad-sweeping consequences of Žižek’s critique, as much as I agree with some details of it. I am afraid that what he postulates is a specific kind of imperial look – or simply refusal to deal with other cultures that are based on different cultural premises from the “Western” ones. Having said that, I wish to stress my agreement with him in the specific examples (and authors he mentions, like Rorty and Singer – 2001: 340-341), but also the fact that cognitive relativism does not mean moral relativism, as well as that there are many people (myself included) who are cognitive relativists – but not moral relativists.

 

This has to do with the whole complex of alterity as something different and embodying different people – “strangers”. Julia Kristeva (1991) (a “stranger” herself!) in her study traces some of the reactions to others through history. However, she focuses on the notion of the individual (even when she/he is “co-opted” into a larger whole by virtue of similarity or dissimilarity) – and in recent years we have been witnesses of some large scale violence directed against the whole ethnic groups (nations): Bosnia and Herzegovina (at least 200,000 dead), Rwanda (800,000) and Congo (two million) stand as stark reminders of what the consequences of alterity could be. Therefore, I think that we should turn our attention to perceptions of others as part of groups (or larger entities – “ethnic groups” or “nations”). For once others are perceived as obstacles – be it to progress, development, good living, or even “civilization” – the rational choice is to get rid of them. Once their humanity is abstracted or even called into question (for “they” are so different from “us”!),[7] their lives become expendable. Once racist policies are wrapped in the aura of self-righteousness (as with Zionism in Israel), anything goes.

 

However, it is not enough just that “the might is right” – the rationality calls for a rational and above all moral justification. Killing and destroying (expelling, if there is no other option) as many others as possible is “good” for “us” because that will enable safety and security (again, Israel provides a good example here). This safety and security implies loneliness and familiarity – we want to be alone because we want to be in a familiar context and familiar surroundings. There are many forms of rationalization of such behavior – besides the already mentioned Hayden’s article, Bielefeld (1998) in his collection of essays (Strangers: friends or enemies) points to the dangers of ontologization of debates about others (foreigners), especially in the form of the post-1990 catchphrase of the “ethnic conflict” (cf. Geertz 1993). Perhaps unconsciously, some authors seek to explain mass murder, rape and pillaging in terms of scientific or scholarly theories. By doing so, they manage to elevate the criminals and actually give their actions some rationality. (It is worth noting that since the wars in the former Yugoslavia erupted, the “international community” negotiated and dealt only with the ones who had guns – all the alternative or anti-war and anti-nationalistic voices were completely marginalized… Hence, its surprise with the apparent inability of the newly formed states in the region to form some institutions of civil society, does seem surprising, to say the least.)

 

Bielefeld is one of the authors (along with Bauman) who traces all the animosity and vilification of foreigners at least to Fichte and the whole European modernist project. Modernity was one of the direct consequences of the great colonial expansion of the Western powers – it created powerful fantasies of Truth and Reason (many detailed studies by the post-18th century “March towards Reason” have been done by Foucault). According to Luhmann, “The history of European rationality can be described as the history of the dissolution of a rationality continuum that had connected the observer in the world with the world” (1998: 23). Luhmann saw the current trends in rationality as a step in the wrong direction, inviting us to re-consider the models of mutual understanding mentioned by the authors like Toulmin (without actually referring to him). On the one hand, it seems that ways of doing things and interpreting them might have a very long history – as Uli Linke traced in her book (1999). The ideology of “blood and soil” as we know it, however, is a much more recent invention, it depends on the “nation-states” (a 19th-century construction) and on what Balibar called “fictive ethnicity” (in Balibar and Wallerstein 1997: 130-131).

 

(Mis)placing the other: gender and race

 

Tickets are expensive. So are the hotels.

Names range from Rita to Juanita.

In walks a policeman, and what he tells

you is “You are persona non grata in terra incognita.”

 

Joseph Brodsky (“Abroad”)

 

 

Ethnicity is just one form of identifying and establishing the border between “us” and potentially hostile “them”. Others include gender, class and race. I will not deal here with class in detail – a very good overview is in Balibar and Wallerstein 1997 – but just mention some peculiarities about gender and race.

 

A few words about the discipline where I find myself working (and learned people from anthropology say that I should regard myself as one of “them” because of my training, my current institutional affiliation, research and my degree) should help contextualize this discussion. Anthropologists are engaged in some form of a post-colonial discourse whenever they step (professionally, of course) into the world of a “strange” or “exotic” culture (the fact that it might be their own culture does not affect this). “Step into” might not be the correct expression, since one of the most important conditions for the understanding of another culture (and the whole different set of values, norms, representations, etc.) is being aware of the differences. Except in the cases where the anthropologist/ethnographer is himself/herself a member of a certain community (and sometimes even in those cases, but on a different plane), there is a fundamental difference. Two worlds meet. Or, alternatively, two (or more) cultures, worlds (sometimes literally centuries) apart.[8] This “stepping into” should not be taken only in a literal sense, since it presupposes any form of communication about or with a culture or a society (or group, individual, etc.) that is being studied. Another thing that it presupposes is that there will be elements which the anthropologist will find impossible to classify or explain, so he/she should not try to force her/his preconceptions on the culture, but to accept the potential unintelligibility of certain elements of the studied culture as a fact, culture as a specific set of values for each individual and distinctive community or group.

           

Of course, the question arises of the objective (if there is such thing) validity of doing any research. It was as far back as in 1881, that one of the founding fathers of anthropology, Adolf Bastian, remarked that 

 

For us, primitive societies (Naturvölker) are ephemeral, that is, as regards our knowledge of, and our relations with them, in fact, inasmuch as they exist for us at all. At the very instance they become known to us they are doomed.

                                                (quoted in Fabian 1991: 194)

 

             

So knowing others, getting in contact with them (“contact” in the 19th-century usually meant death sentence for many African cultures) is the first step towards their destruction. In the contemporary world, this destruction need not be physical or brutal – it is enough to insert different cultural values, to make people obedient to any authority (one of the important aspects that facilitated Rwandan massacre – Zarembo 1997), or to institute the policies of forced removals (which effectively ripped apart the social fabric of many South African black communities). But there are different kinds of others and different strategies employed to “deal” with them.   

           

In a sense, women are the ultimate “others.” They are an integral part of the world and at the same time have been throughout history excluded (partially or completely) from full participation in it (Riley 1988). Observed and studied in  “primitive” societies, they have only recently become active participants in  “mainstream” sciences and humanities, adding a specific (or should I say: gender specific) point of view. This opens numerous possibilities, as summed up by Toni Flores:

 

What is interesting, I think, is that because male culture is officially the valued and powerful one, women come with some determination to grasp what we have been denied — and from this realization come the various women’s movements. On the other hand, because female culture, along with the feminine possibilities it carries, is both devalued and disempowered, it is hard for men to recognize or accept that they lack something, much less attempt actively to grasp what they hardly know they want.

                                                            (Flores 1991: 143)

           

Of course, I would not agree with phrases such as “male culture” or “female culture” — they both seem to be too general and too universalizing and totalizing, trying to subsume a great variety of different discourses under a common denominator. However, it seems to me that in everyday life there exists a sense of polarity and ambivalence when it comes to the issues dealing with gender. Anthropology and social sciences in general are no exception to this. The picture has been distorted, people realize that and begin to wander what the “real” image looks like.

           

The extent to which anthropology can (or even should) reshape this distorted picture remains unclear, but anthropology as something standing outside the contemporary world, in the realm of the “pure” science is a fiction.[9] It is my belief that anthropologists (as well as social scientists) have a duty and an obligation (both as human beings and as critical intellectuals) to at least try to present “others” in an acceptable way (acceptable for the others in the first place!). Since they depend on their existence (that is to say, the very existence of others is a prerequisite for their profession), it is in their (existential) interest to assure that the others are represented in an acceptable way and that the “natives” are able both to represent and to express themselves in a ways that they find most appropriate.[10]

 

I do not intend to fully adopt here Asad’s (1979) thesis that what really matters in terms of social change today is the movement of world capital and the globalization of world economic processes (although I do believe that terms like “market economy” are nonsense invented by the people in power in order to retain and globalize this power[11]), but this thesis reflects a part of the problem. (On another note, as I pointed out in an earlier paper on Macedonia, economic power is quite important in gender relations: the more one has, the less likely that she will be marginalized.) If anthropology is to incorporate such a thesis, then anthropologists should be actively involved in the processes of social change. The experience of the reality “lived” can be more helpful than the experience of the reality “theorized.”  However, as academics, they usually claim (publicly, at least) no allegiance to a particular political system or ideology. As scientists, they are supposed to be “neutral.” Again, the idea that “neutrality” in a great post-romantic sense is simply impossible in any science (including anthropology) is nothing new or original. While most authors will claim that their interpretation of the data (and their field notes, statistics, etc.) are reasonably (if not absolutely) “objective,” they are well aware that others are not quite that “neutral” or “objective.” Anthropologists need others, both in ethnography and in theory, even when others are actually their fellow anthropologists. 

           

An interesting situation also occurs when feminist authors (as “others”) write on women (as “others” as well): are they “feminist” or radical enough? (For example, by Henrietta Moore in her Passion for Difference.) Where does feminism end and “pure” or “disengaged” research start? Is it possible to be a feminist and do this kind of research on feminist discourses or practices? Since others are “there” (and we are “here”) — and there is no way to find out whether they have always been, or were just constructed by ourselves — then, the main question for me is how to approach this fact. What to do with the others?

           

The answer is not as obvious as it seems. Obviously, one does not ignore others, although it is relatively easy to pretend that they do not exist (since this is only pretending, one is still aware of them and just makes a conscious effort to avoid them). But this attempt at avoiding does not deny their existence! Even if we bypass something, we implicitly acknowledge the fact that there is something out there (to be avoided). Others can be studied, but then the question might arise from whose perspective and why. What gives the right (any right) to anthropologists (or social scientists in general) to go around and study various ethnic groups, and then subsequently publish the most intimate details of their lives? From another perspective, the dependence of anthropologists on their “informants” (the word has a slightly Orwellian sound for me) is almost complete, and very rarely do anthropologists question the data that they have obtained in the field. Very rarely they assume that they might have been told something simply because the “natives” wanted to please them or to avoid probing into the more intimate aspects of their lives.[12] Questions relating to the privacy and the actual wishes of the others (the “observed ones”) are increasingly becoming paramount in any serious research project. Although the situation seems to be most tricky with regard to the fieldwork (positioning of oneself with his/her “objects of study,” questions regarding even ethics of disclosure of certain details, anthropologists’ personal life “in the field,” etc.), it is even worse when one actually studies texts.

             

The relationship between different social-studies’ approaches and the study of gender is in no way simple or straightforward, as noted by Marilyn Strathern:

 

[T]he constant rediscovery that women are the Other in men’s accounts reminds women that they must see men as the Other in relation to themselves. Creating a space for women becomes creating a space for the self, an experience becomes an instrument for knowing the self. Necessary to the construction of the feminist self, then, is a nonfeminist Other. The Other is most generally conceived as “patriarchy,” the institutions and persons who represent male domination, often simply concretized as “men.”[cf. Toni Flores, above.] Because the goal is to restore to subjectivity a self dominated by the Other, there can be no shared experience with persons who stand for the Other.

                                                            (Strathern 1987: 288)

             

However, the questions relating to otherness and identity lead to the ones on difference(s). The other is recognized as other because it is different. Although, as noted above (footnote 7), these differences are often constructed or simply invented retroactively in order to justify actions.

 

Another good example is provided by the race. Most social scientists reject the very existence of it. Genetically, it makes no sense. However, the fact of the matter is that people do look different to some people – and this has serious social, political, or economic implications. I again refer to Linke (1999) on the (West) “European” construction of “race” – what is interesting to me, coming here from South Africa (and after Brazil), is the way that South Africans and Brazilians are burdened and frequently overwhelmed with this concept and its implications.

 

While the official Brazilian discourses in the last 60 years (following right-wing writer and intellectual Gilberto Freyre) or so speak of the “racial democracy” (democracia racial), South Africans had their “Truth and Reconciliation Commission” (TRC) to help them deal with the horrific legacy of the apartheid regime. For the outside world and for the politicians, the TRC has been a huge success. For the less privileged people, however, the story is much different, as it is perceived as the mechanism that enabled some mass-scale murderers to get away with their crimes. (And as Judy Grant pointed out,[13] the women remained victimized during the proceedings as well!) There was some talk of reparations for the victims, but the reparations are not on the agenda of the current South African government.

 

The race is the determining factor of South African politics – black people (majority of the population) will always vote for the ANC – regardless of the ANC government’s policies (that recently include totally ignoring the HIV/AIDS pandemic that is literally killing thousands of people in the country – it is officially the leading cause of death). On the other hand, the “official opposition”, DA, seems incapable of addressing the non-white population, they appear to be locked into the South African whites’ (especially when it comes to the English-speaking whites, who believe that they are actually in England and for example simply refuse to learn any Black African language) isolation – as they have lived for decades separate and sheltered lives, their points of reference also tend to be in complete isolation from the non-whites’ problems or perceptions. The problems are made worse by the perception (see for example the reports of the International Working and Advisory Group 2000) that only whites can be racist. This masks the obvious racism that exists in the majority of the black and coloured population as well – directed not only against whites, but even more against (black poor) immigrants from other African countries (like Angola or Mozambique), who are frequently attacked, abused, or even killed. However, as South Africans today officially subscribe to the policies of “non-racialism”, it is politically incorrect to talk about this, so the problems of dealing with the burden of race just get postponed for the indefinite future.

 

The situation in Brazil is very much different in everyday life. As most Brazilians are clearly “mixed” (that is to say, they would definitively not pass as looking “European”), there is no overt racism among the ordinary people (and that is one of the reasons why Spike Lee’s films always fail to attract big audiences in Brazil). The problem of identification gets into play here: even though in the official census Brazilians can choose only one of the four offered categories (white, black, “brown” or Indian), in reality of their everyday lives they use more than 130 categories for the racial identification. Where one puts herself/himself can be quite different from the official census – so one gets to the official percentage that Brazil has only 6% blacks (International Working and Advisory Group 2000) – or to the unofficial that the number is around 40%. The Brazilian racism becomes more visible when one gets to universities, where there are comparatively few non-white students, and both students and staff begin to look surprisingly “European”. Finally, when one gets into the political arena (Congress and Senate), the percentage of non-whites is so miniscule (4 blacks in the 81-seat Senate) that it becomes negligible. When president Cardoso recently decreed that universities must observe quotas (include a certain proportion of non-white staff and students), it created an outcry in the academic community that it will lead to the “lowering of standards” of teaching and research. Very few people in the academic community (almost exclusively white!) have attempted to understand why the quotas are necessary in the first place.

 

“It wasn’t me!” is quite a common excuse of the privileged minorities in both countries. “It has nothing to do with me – the others were doing it!” As one had nothing to do with the previous oppressive policies, the collective amnesia takes place and the world begins in the year zero (a moment chosen by the privileged community and sanctified by the mechanisms such as the TRC in South Africa), without any effort to understand what has happened in the past and what are the consequences for the future. By perpetuating a certain type of discourse (in South Africa, directed to English-speaking whites and affluent blacks), excluding the less privileged ones, societies create boundaries of “us” and “them”, boundaries that cannot be transgressed, as people are (in both South Africa and Brazil) simply “born into” defined racial categories. Similarly to the Hegel’s famous analogy of the Master and Slave, the oppressed ones in South Africa rose to power, but only to adopt the language of the former Masters – without actually achieving freedom for the majority of the population. (They did achieve freedom – especially financial one! – for themselves, as witnessed by numerous public scandals, like the one about the Arms Deal.) The new imperial language of exclusion of almost 50% of the population classified as “poor”. 

 

 

Concluding remarks: Deconstructing the other

 

We National Socialists have found a very specific definition for the state… it has only a purpose if its final task is the preservation of the living folkdom. It must not only be the life preserver of a people, but thereby primarily the preserver of the inner essence, the maintainer of a nation’s blood. Other than this, the state has no purpose in the long run. 

 

Adolf Hitler speaking in 1937 (quoted in Linke 1999: 209)

 

 

Locating others in space and time helps create boundaries (Barth in Cohen 2000; Balibar 1997: 381-395) that in effect help us establish our identity (either by constructing it, or by choosing an appropriate one for an occasion). Others are important markers of where does the familiar end. Problems arise when people start to seriously believe in the unity of their ethnic group or race (or any other similar category), when the assumption is that the purity is almost there, just a little effort away. Of course, historically speaking, there are no (and, as far as we can tell from the available archaeological data, there were no) ethnically “pure” populations. Striving for one looks like a misplaced ideal, attempt to achieve something that its creators know (or at least should know) is impossible.

 

However, racism sells. Nationalism is popular – from the buses adorned with MiloπeviÊ’s portraits in Yugoslavia in the late 1980s, to the frantic flag-waving in the USA today. Mass identity, we are told, should take primacy over the individual one. This, of course, stands in sharp contrast with the proclaimed (Western) liberal goals of individual rights and responsibilities. Ideally, individuals are supposed to surrender parts of their sovereignty to governments or other higher entities. Practically, some individuals are not too happy about this (there is a long list of organizations who oppose censorship of the Net – too long to be mentioned here, but shows that resistance is possible).

 

Some of this is seen in the debates about “multiculturalism” – perceived as a dangerous virus threatening to dilute the perceived heterogeneous fabric of societies (frequently identified as “blood” – Linke 1999). This is what gives rise to extreme right-wing politicians throughout “Europe” – and the most recent example is the success of Jean-Marie Le Pen in France.[14] What the commentators fail to see is that Le Pen is only a symptom – he is not the disease. His success only demonstrates the failure of the “new Europe” to come to terms with ambiguity of its own discourses about others (immigrants, foreigners, minorities). It is not possible to adopt the neo-liberal policies of closing off markets (and restricting the movement of individuals) and labeling everything different as “strange” and “dangerous” without the consequences that include re-vamping the extreme right-wing ideologies. The fear of the other was the fuel of ideologies like Nazism (Linke 1999: 198 ff), and it is unclear why some politicians (who now seem so horrified at the success of Le Pen, last year were so surprised by Silvio Berlusconi, and a year before by Jörg Haider – it seems to me that the only surprising thing here is the surprise itself!) seem to believe that the same fear will not produce the same effects seventy years later. The “rhetorics of exclusion” (Stolcke 1995) so cherished by the Western industrialized leaderships is leading the way for new racist and neo-fascist ideologies. From the standpoint of long-term policies, this might not be too bad for the politicians in power – as more and more people get disenchanted and disillusioned with what is going on, chances are that more and more will simply stay at home, not vote and leave everything to tightly connected cliques and “advisory boards” that will in effect govern societies far away from any mechanisms of control. In the short run, however, this is going to produce a series of clashes – and the immediate consequences are difficult to predict. 

 

I wish I could end on a more positive note, but my point is that being aware of certain phenomena or processes (and making them visible in public and exposed for what they really are) could help one determine whether to take certain actions or not. The choice is important here – people can make a difference if they want to. (The French voters could have voted for candidates other than Le Pen, but many opted to stay at home… Taking a look at French politics, can one really blame them?) It seems quite obvious that the respect and recognition of the other are necessary if we want to be respected and recognized by anyone outside ourselves – for what are we all if not others for some other observers, in other situations, under other points of view, in other circumstances and other perspectives?

 

 

 

 

 


 

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*  Acknowledgements. This is a version of the paper presented in the seminar in the Department of Sociology, Istanbul Bilgi University, Istanbul, 30 April 2002. I am very grateful to Dr. Ugur Kömeçoglu and Professor Arus Yumul for inviting me to Istanbul, which led me to consider again some issues dealing with alterity.

 

[1]  It is a well known fact that before the 16th century, race was simply not an issue in the Western European art — and, although infrequently, representatives of other races were represented in sculpture or painting.

[2]  I am not implying that this ethnocide and ecocide was a necessary or in any way justifiable price to be paid for this broadening of intellectual horizons — I am just stating this as a fact.

[3]  Without getting into the detailed explanation of these important institutions, I will only say that they refer to a series of regulations that basically connected (tied) native inhabitants to the lands that were purchased by settlers or given away as gifts, thus keeping the native population practically as slaves.

[4]  Among the most notable ones were Bartolomé de Carranza, Melchior Cano, and Domingo de Soto. They were trying to prove that Pope Alexander VI’s bull “Inter c²tera” (1494) was valid only in the spiritual sense — giving to the Spanish and the Portuguese the right to christianize native population in the territories that they discover, but not to treat these territories and their inhabitants as their own property. The Dominican General, Thomas de Caeta, wrote in his commentary to the edition of the Summa theologica of Thomas Aquinas that there are actually three kinds of infidels:  1/ the ones that are legally and factually subjects of the Christians and live in the Christian kingdoms (Moors, Jews); 2/ the ones that are legally but not factually Christian subjects because they seize Christian territories (Turks); and 3/ the ones that are neither legally nor factually Christian subjects (Indians). He concluded that the second kind (Turks) should be treated like enemies, but the third kind (Indians) are legal owners of their own lands, and cannot be subjected to force. These and similar statements were recognized in the bull of the Pope Paul III, “Sublimus Deus” of 2 June 1537: “Indians and all the peoples that are yet to be met by Christians, even if they live with no faith in Christ, should not be deprived of their freedom or their worldly possessions... They cannot be forced into slavery, and to the faith of Christ they should be introduced by the preaching of the Divine Word and the example of the decent life.”

[5]  Of course, one should not forget that Las Casas on the theoretically similar grounds justified the slavery (and slave trade, which was becoming a profitable business venture) in Africa!

[6]  In this section of the paper, I am closely following Stephen Toulmin’s account, so I am not giving specific page references.

[7]  And ironically, of course, in all of the three cases referred to above, it was the lack of difference that was taken to constitute the difference itself! It seems that the sameness of the people irritated them to such an extent that they had to invent and re-invent the perceived “inhumanity” of their neighbors.

[8]  Of course, there are differences within specific cultures as well as differences between anthropologists/ethnographers and cultures they come from — I am just using these universal concepts here to illustrate my point.

[9]  At least as much as the very concept that any science can be “pure,” “objective,” “disinterested,” or politically “neutral.”

[10]  Of course, the question then arises (and I do not claim to know the answer to it): who decides what is an adequate representation of the other in a specific context and based on what criteria?

[11]  To claim that any Third World country can just step into the “world economy” and there successfully compete with developed countries (much of whose development and stability was achieved at the expense of the Third World) is simply perverse.

[12]  Several years ago, a delegation from a South Pacific ethnic group came for a farewell visit to an anthropologist who did his fieldwork there and was getting ready to leave with his wife.  The delegation expressed their gratitude for the anthropologist’s stay in their village, because that presented them with an opportunity to observe the life of a white family! Participant observation at its best.

[13]  At the “Hidden Genders” conference at the University of Natal, Durban, on 15 September 2001. In her study (based on interviews with six women who gave testimonies at the TRC) Grant showed how the suffering of women (battered, raped, abused) was simply ignored (no one even asked them about it) in the justification of the “struggle” of the ANC against the oppressive regime. Some influential commentators interpreted their apparent silence as the fact that they found “the struggle” much more important than their own lives, but Grant showed that this was not the case – simply, no one was interested in the suffering of these women.

[14]  Again, the phenomenon is not that new – I presented something about it as far back as May 1997 (BoπkoviÊ 1998a: 127).