By Karen Smits

The Mennonite religion is a branch of the Anabaptist movement of the Protestant Reformation in Europe during the first half of the sixteenth century, and originated in Friesland, a province in the Netherlands. Similar offshoots are the Amish, the Brethren and the Hutterites. Their claim for a religious life style in which the state does not interfere, their demand to pacifism and their aim to live in self-controlled communities are well-known traits for the Mennonites. Traditionally, they distance themselves from certain principles such as worldliness, in which they aspire to reject influences from the world outside their communities. Today, the level of worldliness differs per community.

The church is filled with about two hundred people; all sharing the Mennonite religion, and worldliness is reflected in the women’s outfits. The more conservative ladies wear black, and cover their hair with a scarf. Those a little less conservative wear long, flower design dresses. The most progressive attendees wear knee-length dresses, high heels (I even spot a pair of bright red pumps!) and make up. The male outfits are very plain and similar: pants and a shirt.

When the bride enters the church, dressed in white and guided by her father, the attendees stand up and grab their (film) cameras and smartphones to capture this moment. Standing in front of the church, a proud smile appears on the groom’s face: this girl is coming to Belize with him.

Often seen as antagonists by the ruling churches and governments in the countries they lived in, the Mennonites were forced to migrate several times. First, they migrated to Poland and Prussia, then to Russia, from where they moved to Canada. Once in Canada, the Mennonites could still not escape from the country’s legislation, so traditional Mennonite followers decided to move further south into the Americas. Via Mexico, a Mennonite group finally located in Belize. The Belizean government granted them access to a jungle area, and agreed not to interfere with the life style in the communities. Well-known for their agricultural skills, Mennonites nowadays lead the national market for milk, dairy products and poultry. They often visit shops and supermarkets in the cities to sell their products; they export goods, and some Mennonites travel to visit other communities. An old German dialect is spoken among Mennonites and that connects them around the world.

The groom lives in Blue Creek, once a dense jungle and now a prosperous, structured and rich Mennonite village in Belize. Blue Creek is a very progressive community in which cell phones, photo and video equipment, as well as modernized machines for their agricultural work, are highly accepted. When the groom visited his friends in a Mennonite community in Germany, he met his friend’s sister and they fell in love. Through Internet they kept in touch. Today, a year later, they stand in front of friends and family, but mostly in front of God, to promise being a good husband and excellent wife for each other.  Although the service is held in German, a language that I do not master, I get the tenor of it. And, just like many other attendees, I have my camera ready for when the rings are exchanged, and, for the kiss. Soon after this fabulous moment everyone is invited to share a lunch meal in the basement of the church.

The groom’s Mennonite church in Blue Creek knows a distinction between ‘youth’, ‘newly-weds’, and ‘marrieds’. Each group organizes its own activities that range from bible study to Sunday afternoon lunches or going for a swim in the lake. All members of the ‘youth’ category are aged between 15 and 25 years old, apart from the groom. For the past twenty years, he has been the oldest in the ‘youth’ category, because only when married one can move a category up.

During the service I realized that for outsiders, a thing like ‘a Mennonite wedding’ might sound like something exotic or bizarre. I do believe the Mennonites are a specific group in society, but today, during this ceremony, I just saw similarities. Yes, what is different is that this couple only knows each other shortly before they got married, and indeed, they have never shared a bed or house together. Yes, for their family standards they are ‘late’ for not marrying around the age of 20. Yes, the traditions of their religion are different. But, all that counts here is love.

In today’s celebrations love is reflected in everything. It’s in the warm welcome. In the best men’s tap on the shoulder of the groom, after the ring-exchange. In the tears of the bride’s mom. In three hours of speeches, songs and sketches, played after lunch. In the facial expression of the bride’s brother, who will miss his buddy now that she’s moving to Belize.

The prayers, the rings, the cake are all similar to weddings as we know them. However, today’s event is also a Mennonite ritual: today will change their lives; from today onwards they belong to the ‘newly-weds’.

Karen Smits is a PhD Candidate at the department of Organization Sciences at VU University. She  focuses on collaboration in the Panama Canal Expansion Program. For her master’s degree in Organizational Anthropology she studied Mennonite entrepreneurship and self-employment in Blue Creek, Belize.

By Linda van de Kamp In 2007, Madam Gracelina (45 years old) was going to open a business with her husband in Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. She had managed to rent a nice building for their company at a central location in the city centre and had bought all the necessary equipment. There were also some possible future customers Dona Gracelina was in contact with and she was all ready to start. However, after having dealt with the right government department in Maputo for several months, government officials would not hand over the required licence. She suspected that the officials were waiting for her to pay them an additional sum of money to proceed, but she refused. In the Brazilian Pentecostal God is Love Church that she frequented, she handed over the project file with the company plans and copies of all the papers she had to arrange for the licence to a Brazilian pastor. He would take it with him on his travels until he was back in Brazil where the church’s founder was going to pray for her. During the service it was revealed that an evil spirit stood behind Dona Gracelina and this was following her wherever she went. The pastor expelled the spirit and proposed a programme of prayer, offerings and fasting to defeat the demon.

Studies on religious transnationalism have addressed the role of religion for migrants in maintaining the link between the home and host society. A central question is how transnational religion plays a role in preserving a sense of cultural continuity or in encouraging cultural change in contact between migrants and the new society in which migrants are subjected to a forceful public agenda that usually emphasizes integration. In this context, it has been argued that transnational Pentecostalism encourages stability in situations of mobility and provides for cultural continuity by offering migrants a ‘home away from home’.  

In the case of Brazilian Pentecostalism in Mozambique we are not, however, dealing with a migrant community. Mozambican converts continue to live in their own society while participating in a setting where relations are developed and maintained that link Brazilian and Mozambican societies. What exactly is the relevance of transnational religion and related questions on cultural (dis)continuity and (dis)integration in such an environment?

In the case of transnational Pentecostalism in Mozambique, converts’ cultural nearness to the local society appears critical. Brazilian Pentecostalism in Mozambique demonstrates the locally embedded meaning and development of transnationalism. Being part of the local society, unlike in situations of migration, many converts struggle to understand how their Pentecostal morality and spirituality can remain unaffected or even ‘uncaptured’ by local circumstances, powers or cultural realities. They want to become independent of locally binding forces, i.e. to become more culturally and socio-economically mobile and to cross boundaries. One example is the case of Dona Gracelina.

Madam Gracelina felt paralyzed because of the power the government officials had over her: she was being kept by ‘evil national powers’. It was through transnational Pentecostalism that she would be able to break out of this situation, something that was made real with the business papers that would leave the country to receive a blessing in Brazil. In this context Dona Gracelina was made aware of the negative impact of national spiritual connections: through her possible links with ancestral or other spirits her project was failing but by engaging in transnational Pentecostalism she could move away from these ‘origins’.

As outsiders, Brazilian pastors confront Mozambicans in a variety of ways with what their culture or life looks like. To question the power of local healers, the pastors mimic the behaviour of the healers when they are in a trance. They bring objects into church that local healers work with and show that they can touch them without any negative consequences. In the traditional Mozambican context this is considered offensive and dangerous but the pastors show that one should not be afraid if one is in the sphere of influence of the borderless power of the Holy Spirit. Another example is the so-called therapy of love (‘terapia do amor’). The therapy is a public meeting that resembles a church service but is dedicated to the subjects of marriage, love and sexuality. Thousands of people participate every week and most of them are young (aged 15-35). During one therapy session, the pastor imitated the behaviour of Mozambican couples who, according to Brazilians, are shy, do not have the courage to look each other in the eyes or to touch their partner in public spaces. Then the pastor held hands with his wife, embraced her and gave her a kiss to show what love is but also to demonstrate the shortcomings of local customs. By doing all this openly, the pastors want to force open cultural values as a way of bringing about transformation. They urge converts to cross cultural and spiritual boundaries, extending the tradition that spiritual practices involve boundaries that can be transcended.

Mozambicans do not travel literally to cross boundaries. Brazilian pastors have done so and it is their trajectory that creates a space of mobility. The dislocation by Brazilian pastors within and outside Brazil who leave their homes and families to preach the gospel  is valued as an important strategy of spiritual development because, by leaving one’s family, it is possible to be fully dedicated to the missionary project. The geographical journey facilitates a radical break with one’s former life and allows for the formation of a new person. During services in Mozambique, Brazilian pastors often used their personal journeys as an example of what faith looks like and what it can achieve. To transform, one has to travel and transcend the familiar, including one’s family and culture, and suffer hardships to create new possibilities. By participating in Brazilian Pentecostalism one embarks on a journey. Mozambican believers leave elements of local culture behind, begin to experience their lives differently and see things in a new light. Since converting, Dona Gracelina had started to walk through the city with a particular attitude, alert to all the (evil) influences that could affect her. Even though bodies remain in the same location physically, the subjective dislocation and the transnational positioning have the same effect as embarking on a real journey regarding social and cultural perceptions, values and practices.

Between 2005 and 2008, Linda van de Kamp did research in Mozambique as part of the research programme ‘Conversion Careers in Global Pentecostalism:  A Comparative Study in Four Continents’, funded by the ‘The Future of the Religious Past’ programme of the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research (NWO) and hosted by the department of Social and Cultural Anthropology at the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam and the African Studies Centre, Leiden. On September 16^th, she successfully defended her thesis ‘Violent Conversion: Brazilian Pentecostalism and the Urban Pioneering of Women in Mozambique’. 

At the end of February, armed Libyan rebels assembled in front of the work site and commandeered two trucks. The Chinese workers assembled into units armed with crowbars and bricks; they barricaded the entrance with more trucks and threw stones over the wall. The attackers retreated, but the offices at another, unguarded work site were looted. The article refers to these Libyans as thugs and provides no political context, but the engineer is quoted as saying that Chinese workers have encountered hostility and have even been thrown stones at before. He attributes this to causing a rise in the price of consumer goods such as cigarettes: the price of Rothmans has doubled since Chinese visitors have been buying them up. The article quotes a Chinese researcher, Liu Zhirong, as saying that the Chinese media’s portrayal of African friendliness towards Chinese is skewed. The reality, it suggests, is more mixed, just as Chinese see Africa in a mixed light (they like that cars let pedestrians cross the road).

The engineer featured in the article makes $1,700 a month, or 3-4 times what he made in China, plus a “substantial” living allowance, and has almost no expenses since accommodation, meals, and transportation are provided by the company. In less than a year in Libya, he has saved over 100 thousand yuan, while his total savings before he left China were just 5,000 yuan. An ordinary construction worker makes 4-5 thousand yuan a month, while a skilled carpenter makes around 10 thousand, or over $1,500.

Workers have 2 days off in a month. At these times, the company sometimes organised a barbecue at a nearby restaurant, a shopping trip to Benghazi, or a trip to the sea. They are not allowed to leave the site on their own — to avoid incidents such as a mass fight between Chinese workers and Algerians in Algiers in 2009. (Another article says that at a work site in Mali,  there is also a sign saying ”It is not allowed to become too close to local women.”)

It is not clear if the reporters, Zhou Peng and Wu Guixia, actualy visited  Africa, or if the article is based on interviews. The fact that Lome, the capital of Togo, is described as being on the Mediterranean coast raises suspicions of the latter.

Boeklancering  

Over het boek (dat vervolgens overal – onder meer in de VU-boekhandel– te koop zal zijn), het volgende:

“To make way for a strategic U.S. military base, the Chagossians were evicted from Diego Garcia and other islands of the Chagos archipelago in the Indian Ocean in the 1970s. The U.K. made the islands available to the U.S. and the population was secretly evicted to Mauritius and the Seychelles, about 2000 kilometres away, where many have experienced poverty and difficult life situations. They are not allowed to go back home, only some short trips have been organised since 2006. Recently, the rich marine environment and coral reefs of the Chagos archipelago inspired the U.K. government to transform the status of the Chagos region into the world’s largest Marine Protected Area. But what about the Chagossians, who are locked in a political and legal battle for the right to return to the islands and recognition as a people to live in diaspora? After several law suits against the British government, the Chagossians have vested their hope on the European Court of Human Rights which will rule shortly.”

Het boek zal aangeboden worden aan Bernadette Dugasse, die onlangs het privilege had haar thuisland te bezoeken.  Het programma van de middag ziet er als volgt uit: om 14.00 uur het welkomstwoord van Sandra Evers. Om 14.10 een lezing door Wilbert van der Zeijden (van IKV Pax Christi, zie hieronder), getiteld “The centrality of Diego Garcia in U.S. military infrastructures”. Vervolgens om 14.40 een exerpt van een radiodocumentaire gemaakt door Saar Slegers (journalist).

Om 15.00 volgt dan een interview door Marry Kooy met Atman Ramchalaon, een  Mauritiaan die zich inzet voor de Chagossians, waarna er tijd is voor vragen. Om 15.15 is er dan de echte boeklancering: het boek wordt aangeboden aan Bernadette Dugasse, waarna een high tea reception.

De abstract van de lezing van  Wilbert van der Zeijden (IKV Pax Christi, politicoloog gespecialiseerd in de ontwikkeling van internationale militaire infrastructuur, atoom-ontwapening en de reacties van civil societies daarop) is:

“The U.S. maintains a global network of military outposts, counting more than 800 facilities and spanning most of the globe. Diego Garcia has always been – and still is – a crucial pawn in that military infrastructure. It is the primary launching point for reconnaissance missions and bombing missions for an area covering most of the Indian Ocean waters, the Horn of Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia and South Asia. Additionally, Diego Garcia is a main hub for maritime maneuvers, intelligence operations and for some matters the U.S. hopes to keep concealed from the public view – such as the extraordinary rendition practices of a few years back.  Foreign military facilities impact local populations. From Puerto Rico to Greenland, from Italy to Okinawa and from Guam to Chagos, people are standing up against the negative effects. This lecture will discuss such fates with a particular focus on the Chagossians who were forced to give up their homeland for the U.S. military base on Diego Garcia.”

By Ali Taher, visiting researcher from Iraq at the SCA-department of the VU  To begin with: It gives me a strange feeling when I see how the people in the Netherlands openly express their emotions. As a visitor from Iraq it is really interesting for me to see “lovers” and “couples” walking together in the center of Amsterdam, embracing each other, and nothing preventing them to interchange very hot kisses amidst the noise of a busy market !

Every day walking in the beautiful city streets, I continue thinking about all the differences  between Iraqi and Dutch society.  One of the differences is the kind of everyday embarrassing feeling I have at lunch time. You cannot imagine how shocked I was when I saw one of the girls in VU University choose only one apple as her lunch, although we had been together from early morning… It was unbelievable to see one of the professors who behaved no better than the girl, when he chose some soup with only three pieces of biscuit!  I really don’t know how the people here stay alive when they eat almost nothing! It is embarrassing for me to realize I need to eat three times more than what they eat (at least), to feel saturated! Also the taste of the food here is far removed from the taste in Iraq, which is known for its fatty and salty food.

I also smile when I am observing the high discipline of the people at the station when they are waiting for the tram towards “Dam Square”. I asked myself: who forces them, or makes them use this “chipcard” without any sergeant or other official controlling their every movement? And why is there not any kind of fighting when there is overcrowding at the station?

In the meantime, one day I was so fortunate to see hundreds of people gathering at “Dam square” to protest against nuclear energy. The form of the protest was really interesting for me: a music concert, two short speeches (without screaming and emotion!), and the showing of pictures on a huge screen. All urged to stop using nuclear energy. More than a thousand demonstrators, including old men and women, danced with the songs and were influenced by the pictures. That day I had a very nice story to tell my family whom I meet almost daily on “Messenger” about the way of protest, the issue itself, and the fact that women played a role in the protest too, etc. Indeed, I tried to explain all of that to my mother and my little smart sister Zahra (8 years old) who was staring at the laptop screen and replied with simple words and sentences. During my explanation my father joined us on Messenger, and Zahra started talking:

-      Daddy, do you know? Ali said that the people in the Netherlands do not have any kind of problems, and that is the reason they create their problems, and then they demonstrate against their imagined problems!!

I honestly didn’t use this theoretical level of words! Now I wondered: who is the sociologist in my family??!!

Ali Taher is a PhD-student at the University of Baghdad, currently a visitor at the Faculty of Social Sciences of the VU, thanks to the Academic Freedom Program for post-conflict countries’ scholars. 

At the hospital, the staff soon discovered his background and found out that his work permit had expired. The hospital turned him over to Thai immigration authorities who, despite Charlie’s injuries, made plans to deport him. He was transferred to the Police General Hospital where he was kept behind bars shackled to his bed1.

Charlie’s case demonstrates the insecurities undocumented migrant workers face. His situation changed dramatically once the Thai government found out about his illegal status. Where he was first treated nicely, after this discovery he was discriminated, imprisoned for weeks and on the verge of deportation. Only after human rights organizations filed complaints successfully did Charlie get a chance to defend his case. In Thailand unrecognized refugees from Burma like Charlie are forced to negotiate their everyday lives while facing discrimination and the constant threat of being discovered and deported.

Unrecognized refugees from Burma often express the pressure that security issues bring upon them in relation with their wish to preserve their ‘culture’. ‘In situations of forced migration, ‘culture’ is often revalued and particularly cherished by migrant communities. One of the most common issues for migrants is striking a balance between the preservation of that ‘culture’ and assimilation into the local one.

However, for unrecognized refugees from Burma in Thailand, the situation is more complicated. Their illegal status forces them to hide their ethnic background because of security concerns and fears of being deported. They must strike a very different balance: expressing one’s cultural identity and survival.

Concerns for their own personal security force many people from Burma to hide their cultural identity in Thailand. Fears over being deported make it impossible for them to wear traditional clothing or celebrate their culture in public. A young illegal migrant woman explained: “When I want to go to the temple I cannot wear my longi, because if the police sees me, they will know immediately where I am from. I will take my clothes with me in a bag, go to the temple, look around if there is no police and if so I will change into my traditional dress. When I leave I will change back into my ‘normal’ clothes. Often police will be waiting outside the temple on a festival day and they arrest many people, if we are not careful enough.”

These security risks make many see assimilation as not simply a choice but the only way to survive. A Shan (ethnic group in Burma) community leader said: “Now we live in Thailand, but we must not fight with the people we are living with. We have to be able to adapt to the culture where we live. If we don’t assimilate with the people we live with, there will be confrontations and misunderstandings.”

But unrecognized refugees survival in Thailand depends on their ability to adapt to a community that is hostile towards them. The authorities label people from Burma as alien workers and illegal migrants which creates discrimination. Nang Lao, an illegal migrant, notes: “It is difficult to adapt here in Thailand we are not treated in a nice way.”

Policies and public discourse make life for people fleeing Burma to Thailand very complicated. The need to hide cultural identity because of security issues creates an internal struggle and a strong urge to protect what is “left behind” in their country of birth. Living every day lives under these circumstances is stressful and complicated. However under these circumstances their spirit is tremendously strong, as proven by Kham Yin, a young unrecognized refugee woman: “I am not afraid. I do many good things so good things will return to me.”

Ursula Cats is the founder of the We women foundation located in Chiang Mai Thailand. We women is dedicated to promoting equality in Burma by empowering unrecognized women and their communities through higher education.

Promotie Tam Ngo: 24 mei, 09.45, Aula

The New Way: becoming protestant Hmong in contemporary Vietnam, dat is de titel van de dissertatie die SCA-AIO Tam Ngo gaat verdedigen op 24 mei aanstaande, om 09.45, in de aula van de VU.  De tesis gaat over de Hmong, een etnische minderheid in Vietnam, die zich, mede onder invloed van nauwe connecties met verwanten in de USA, in groten getale tot het protestantse Christendom bekeerde. De verdediging is open voor publiek, iedereen is welkom.

De samenvatting van het betoog van Tam Ngo luidt als volgt: De bekering van ongeveer een derde van de Hmong bevolking in Vietnam tot het Protestantisme gedurende de laatste twee decennia heeft nationaal en internationaal aandacht getrokken. Voor het midden van de jaren tachtig van de vorige eeuw hadden de meeste Hmong (een groep van rond een miljoen mensen) niets met Protestantse bekering te maken gehad. Aan het eind van de tachtiger jaren vingen Hmong in Vietnam bij toeval evangelische uitzendingen van de in de Philippijnen gevestigde Far East Broadcasting Company op. Dit leidde eerst tot millenaristische bewegingen, maar al snel begrepen de Hmong dat zij zich tot het Christendom moesten bekeren. Het Protestantse Christendom wordt in Hmong De Nieuwe Weg genoemd.

De huidige studie van deze nog steeds voortdurende bekeringsgolf is gebaseerd op intensief etnografisch veldwerk in de provincie Laocai in het noorderlijke hoogland van Vietnam. Het begint met een uiteenzetting van de etnografische en historische achtergronden van de Hmong. Het behandelt de politieke en ethische problemen van het doen van dit onderzoek in de huidige politieke situatie in Vietnam. Vervolgens wordt een analyse gegeven van de bijzondere aard van individuele en collectieve bekering die tot stand komt door alleen naar de radio te luisteren zonder tussenkomst van zendelingen. Bekering is een fundamentele interventie in de manier waarop mensen tegen de wereld en tegen verandering aankijken. In dit geval hadden de bekeerlingen –vooral in het begin- geen hulp van buitenstanders bij de uitleg van de radio-boodschap en bij het stichten van kerken. Zij moesten het zelf uitzoeken todat ze geholpen werden door Amerikaanse Hmong.

De vraag waarom zoveel Hmong zich bekeren tot het Christendom staat centraal in het proefschrift. Een belangrijk element is de sociale en economische marginaliteit van deze groep, die tot de armste groepen in Vietnam behoort. De Vietnamese regering ziet hen als potentiële rebellen, maar ook als een doelgroep voor een communistisch beschavingsoffensief. De zendelingen zien hen ook als ‘verworpenen’ en als doelgroep van een christelijk beschavingsoffensief. In de dissertatie wordt nadruk gelegd op het perspectief van de Hmong zelf, zowel van de bekeerlingen als van degenen die niet voor bekering kiezen. Na het falen van verscheidene Vietnamese ontwikkelingsprogramma’s kiezen veel Hmong voor een wereldgodsdienst die niet gebonden is aan de Vietnamese staatsgrenzen en hen zicht geeft op een wereld van mogelijkheden. Een belangrijke rol hierin wordt gespeeld door Hmong die na de Vietnamoorlog naar de Verenigde Staten zijn gevlucht en het nu tot hun taak rekenen de achtergeblevenen te helpen bij hun bekering tot het Christendom.

De studie richt zich ook op de Hmong die zich in de Verenigde Staten (vooral Wisconsin, Minnesota, Californie en Colorado) gevestigd hebben en analyseert hun motieven om zich aan zendingsarbeid te wijden. Belangrijk in die motivatie is een tegenstrijdige combinatie van een nostalgisch verlangen naar een authentiek cultureel thuisland en een poging om dat thuisland te ontwikkelen en de achtergeblevenen te bekeren tot ‘de nieuwe weg’.

De studie toont aan dat bekering grote conflicten tussen bekeerlingen en niet-bekeerlingen teweeg brengt. De etnische solidariteit van de Hmong is gebaseerd op verwantschap en bekering brengt die solidariteit in gevaar. Het is daarom van belang dat de studie aandacht aan de interactie tussen bekeerlingen en niet-bekeerlingen besteedt en aan processen, waarin bekeerling zich weer afkeren van de ‘nieuwe weg’.

Het protestantisme staat haaks op gewoonten en gebruiken die centraal staan in het leven van de Hmong. Geaccepteerde vormen van seksualiteit en consumptie van alcohol moeten getransformeerd worden tot ‘zonden’. De studie besteedt aandacht aan de wijze waarop een nieuwe moraliteit gevormd wordt door het zich afkeren van oude gewoonten en gebruiken, maar ook hoe ambivalent de Hmong zijn over de verwantschap van de nieuwe, christelijke moraliteit en de beschaving die de Kinh meerderheid in Vietnam hen probeert op te dringen.

Whenever I revealed the purpose of my coming  to Bolivia and my interest in social movements I would get the same reaction more or less: “you’ve come to the right place”. The social dynamics in Bolivia are up high and in your face although they do not lack their fair share of intricacy.

Bolivia is a landlocked country in South America, recently added to the continent’s “new left” front. This turn of events was the only road to take in order to achieve some kind of stability at the turn of the century after the hatred people amassed for foreign interests in their country, neoliberalism and a clientelist government, specifically that of Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada. The desiderate of stability on the one hand however difficults the people’s ownership of the change on the other. Either way, Bolivia’s discontent led to nationwide protests, the ousting of Sánchez de Lozada and eventually to the rise of Evo Morales to power, an indigenous president elected in 2005 and representing not a conventional party but a front of social movements (MAS).

Although MAS declares itself ‘ socialist’, from the inside, things don’t seem to have turned very socialist and people have soon enough experienced disenchantment with the government’s new rhetoric and a new wave of unrest is now sweeping the country. Things don’t seem to change and politicians seem to have gone astray from their initial agenda and the promised process of change.

One of the first episodes of popular revolt took place in Potosí in the summer of 2010 when for 19 days the people of Potosí mobilized against the government’s failure to attend departmental needs.  The mobilizations reached historical dimensions, with 150,000 people marching at one point. Potosí is a crude example of the contradictions that push people to demand social justice as it is the richest department in resources and the poorest as far as the standard of living. Despite the fact that it is one of the most indigenous departments, the protests were not constructed along ethnic lines, but pointed more to a strong regionalism (“I am a member of MAS party but first I am potosino” said a member of the Council for indigenous communities of Potosí).  The department’s history of colonial exploitation, the “trauma of the leak of capital” and the example set by indigenous people of a nearby community struggling to win a case of a disputed interdepartmental boundary that would allow them to be a part of Potosí and not Oruro, were the main reasons given to explain the mobilizations. What also united the people was the incompetence of the new government. As a local priest, seen as a leader of opinion in the community, put it: “People of Potosí don’t accept to be ruled by somebody who is not more competent than themselves.” To this extent Thoreau would admire such an example of civic disobedience but the political projects and ambitious surfacing from this point forward would send him back to his grave.

Though several months have passed, people hold the memory of the protests very much alive and on the day I left, my last discussion with Celestino Condori, recognized as the leader of the movements and president of the Civic Committee, revealed that no later than April this year, new measures of protest will be initiated to make sure the government will attend their demands.

Research in Potosi was at times more similar to detective work than anthropology, as people, especially politicians would serve me “prefabricated” information and soon enough I realised my main informants are more likely to be their trustees, who were more willing to share information and to hope for more understanding by talking to me.  As the weeks passed I started moving from one social organization to another each with its own, well-rounded and rationalised version of the protest. I could have been persuaded by all but all were contradictory.  Bourdieu(2006) promoted the concept of engaged knowledge and applied it by talking to different organizations with common interest about each other and by trying to contribute to the thickening of their social and political capital. Research in Potosí has facilitated introducing the common aspects of the agendas of the different organizations into conversations. Many members of the different organizations seem to seek collaboration and unification of forces and most divisions seem to be the result of a smear campaign attributed to supporters of the government.

Throughout the social and civic organizations in Potosí a struggle for definition, ideological articulation as well as on formulating economical alternatives have stimulated many different individuals in an effort to tomar responsabilidad, assume responsibility.  Amidst its divisions and polyphony, Potosí is still searching for its common denominator, to be able to once again launch protest against its abandonment. And ethnicity seems to be the lesser issue in this endeavour.

Diana Iftodi is a master student Social and Cultural Anthropology. She recently did fieldwork in Bolivia, and is now working on het master thesis.

Door Charlotte Kemmeren

In het traditionele dim sum restaurant zijn de tafels groot en rond, hele families kunnen er aanschuiven om tientallen schaaltjes, kommetjes en mandjes met smakelijke en vooral vreemde hapjes met elkaar te delen. Deze plek is om samen te zijn en samen te eten, Chinese waarden worden hier zichtbaar.

Hoewel, mijn tafelgenoot wees me erop dat als je goed kijkt je inderdaad meerdere mensen aan één tafel ziet zitten en ziet eten, maar van echt samenzijn is weinig sprake. Er worden telefoongesprekken gevoerd, of er wordt dankbaar gebruik gemaakt van één van de andere vele mogelijkheden van de Iphone. Er worden kranten gelezen, en bepaald op welk paard ingezet moet worden voor de paardenraces ‘s avonds. De andere mensen aan tafel staren naar de immense televisieschermen in het restaurant, met stralende presentatrices met nepwimpers voor Hong Kongse show TV.

Loop rond 5 uur ’s middags een willekeurige McDonalds in – nooit meer dan 100 meter lopen – en je ziet hordes scholieren, ‘gezellig’ samen aan één tafel, gebiologeerd door hun gameboys. Ze knipperen niet, de monden hangen open en het wordt door niemand opgemerkt wanneer iemand komt of gaat.

Veel rijke Hong Kongers en expats hebben een house maid, een vrouw die helpt met het huishouden en opvoeden van de kinderen, terwijl de ouders aan het werk zijn. De meeste vrouwen komen uit de Filippijnen, Indonesië of een ander land uit Zuid-Oost Azië. Op zondag is hun vrije dag, en dat zal niemand ontgaan. Massaal trekken ze er op uit en bezetten ze de parken van Hong Kong Island, de Filippijnse vrouwen het Central District, de Indonesische vrouwen het Victoria Park.

Met honderden zitten ze op meegebrachte kleedjes, stukken karton of bankjes, met minder weer onder afdaken en bruggen. Een beschrijving van dit opvallende fenomeen klinkt treuriger dan het is, want de Zuid-Oost Aziatische vrouwen maken de zondag de meest kleurrijke dag van Hong Kong en brengen positieve energie naar de gebieden waar normaalgesproken zakenmannen de dienst uitmaken. Samen praten, lachen en gillen ze, een oorverdovend kabaal. Ze koken en delen hun eten. Ze doen spelletjes en lakken elkaars nagels. Ze dansen, zingen en belijden hun geloof, samen en uitbundig.

Laatst was ik op weg naar een respondent, en kwam ik langs een Filippijnse talentenjacht. Een geïmproviseerd podium in het park met een jury van Filippijnse zangeressen en televisiesterren maakten de happening een publiekstrekker. Overal stonden groepjes jonge meisjes in tenue hun choreografie door te nemen. Buikdanseressen, hiphoppers en imitators van Michael Jackson lieten het publiek genieten van hun talent. Een feest, een schril contrast met de strakke kantoorgebouwen rondom het plein en de nog strakkere pakken die langs kwamen wandelen.

Het weer wordt hier beter en in de namiddag ging ik met mijn fieldnotebook op een ferrypier zitten om te schrijven, genietend van de laatste zonnestralen. Naast me kwamen twee Filippijnse vrouwen zitten. Ze openden hun laptop en pakten de Bijbel tevoorschijn. Af en toe zaten ze en luisterden ze naar Christelijke preken, af en toe stonden ze op om te bidden en mee te zingen met de liedjes. Die laptop erbij vond ik interessant, aarzelend vroeg ik ze waar ze precies naar keken, ik wilde ze niet storen. ‘We are worshipping and we can watch the service online from our church in Philippines. I wish it would be in English, so you could sing with us’. Ik werd warm van binnen. Een wildvreemde vrouw in Hong Kong die ik iets vraag, die tijd heeft om antwoord te geven en iets heel aardigs terug zegt!

De Filippijnse vrouwen en hun creatieve, inspirerende zondagen spelen geen enkele rol in het veldwerk voor mijn onderzoek in Hong Kong, naar Hong Kongse jongeren, kleding en groepsvorming. Maar het fenomeen hoort bij deze stad, verdient aandacht omdat het zo anders is dan de rest van de cultuur, en maakt bovendien dat ik op zondag graag wat tijd neem om een rondje door Central te lopen. Het is prachtig.

Charlotte Kemmeren is student bij de Master Sociale en Culturele Antropologie aan de VU. Zij is op dit moment in Hong Kong  voor veldwerkonderzoek ter voorbereiding van haar scriptie.

Photo: European Parliament. Rebiya Kadeer

By Pál Nyiri When I lecture on China and democracy, I show students excerpts from Carma Hinton and Geremie Barme’s 1992 film, The Gate of Heavenly Peace. In the film, one of the leaders of the Tiananmen Square student movement, referring to exaggerated stories of the 1989 massacre, asks: “Must we use lies to stand up to our lying enemy,” i.e. the Chinese Communist Party?

The same question arose in me on 30 March as I listened to Rebiya Kadeer, the “leader of the Uyghur people” according to the president of the Turkish Academic Student Association (TASA), which organised her appearance at the VU. He had asked me, as a “China scholar,” to speak at this event, which he called a “symposium”, on the situation of the Uyghur people in China.

I was in a dilemma. On the one hand, I suspected that the event would not really be a symposium, but rather an occasion to garner political support for the cause of Uyghur independence, as championed by the exiled Rebiya Kadeer. This was not a cause I necessarily wished to lend my “academic credibility” to, nor did I want to be put in the role of the opponent of what was likely to be one-sided views at an event designed to bolster for those very views.

In the end, I decided to take the (admittedly minor) risk of being refused my next Chinese visa and attend the meeting, but not to give a speech. The news that the Chinese embassy demanded a meeting with the VU’s board of directors to protest the holding of the event strengthened my resolve to attend.

The role of the China expert was eventually accepted by Andrew Martin Fisher, a well-respected researcher at the ISS, and I am very curious to know how he dealt with it. (I left in the intermission and did not hear him.) But I was almost sorry to have rejected the role and lost the opportunity to ask Rebiya some questions. Already the trappings of the event made me uneasy: TASA’s president, who chaired the session, asked the — mostly Turkish — audience for silence and then applause as he introduced Rebiya and the other speakers, then declared that everyone must refrain from “cynicism and provocation.” After a short film made by Amnesty International, Rebiya spoke for about 40 minutes. It was this speech that made me think of the student leader in the film.

Photo: shapeshift. Rebiya Kadeer and other activists

Yes, Uyghurs do not receive much attention from the West compared to Tibetans — and, we should add, this is because they are Muslims and because the Chinese government successfully tars Uyghur separatism with the “terrorist” brush. Yes, China’s ownership of Xinjiang is recent. Yes, there are many Uyghur political prisoners, and the crackdown after the rioting last year has been particularly severe. Yes, the rioting was triggered by the lynching of two Uyghur men in Eastern China. Yes, there is massive Han Chinese immigration to Xinjiang, it is encouraged by the government in the name of economic development, and Han Chinese probably get better jobs because they are more educated, more politically trustworthy, and perhaps (being migrants) more docile and hard-working from the Chinese companies’ point of view.

Yes, the oil and gas riches of Xinjiang benefit the rulers of China. Yes, Muslim religious activities are severely curtailed and unauthorized ones often punished by imprisonment. Yes, local authorities promote economic growth by encouraging the outmigration of young workers to the factories of Eastern China. Yes, Chinese government propaganda denies or downplays all of that. Yes, cultural traditions are eroded as lifestyles change and the share of the Han population grows. And I am willing to believe that, as Rebiya claims, “the Chinese government” is bulldozing the old city of Kashgar this very moment.

But the Qing Dynasty gained control of Xinjiang in the mid-17th century, not in 1887 (that’s just when its civil administration was incorporated into China’s). There was an independent Xinjiang in the 1920s and ’30s, but it was led by a Han Chinese under Soviet protection. There are far more Han Chinese who are in prison for criticizing or resisting government action than Uyghurs. All religious activity in China is monitored and, if it proves uncontrollable, suppressed. The lynching of the two Uyghurs was linked to accusations of them raping a Han woman — not that this mitigates the murders, but it does put into perspective Rebiya’s argument that the sending of Uyghur girls to Chinese factories violates cultural norms.

The riots cost scores of Han Chinese lives, a fact Rebiya cursorily acknowledged but dismissed it as a ploy by the Chinese government to create an excuse for the crackdown. Labour export is encouraged in many rural areas, and those resisting are labeled recalcitrant — but Rebiya’s accusations of four hundred thousand young girls being “forcibly transported” to “sweatshops” in East China and then “hunted down like animals in Chinese streets” are fantastic and unbelievable.

As for each Han migrant receiving the equivalent of 5000 euro and free land for moving to Xinjiang, well, if that were true, the whole country would be moving there. A cousin of my wife’s went to Xinjiang to plant cotton and made the equivalent of 60 euros a month — not much but better than being unemployed in her home village. The next year, she went to Canton instead. (Far more Chinese workers and traders migrate within “China proper” than to Xinjiang or Tibet, and many Han Chinese migrate out of Xinjiang if they can.) And cultural traditons are eroding and old cities are being bulldozed everywhere in China to make way for real estate and tourism projects.

These are not, per se, ethnic issues. And standards of living have been rising in Xinjiang as elsewhere. Some Uyghurs, like Rebiya Kadeer who was once touted as one of the five richest people in China, have succeeded in business. Some of them, like Rebiya at the time, have been coopted by the Chinese government; she held various official positions in the 1990s. Uyghurs have not been subjected to family planning policies that Chinese are forced to accept; Rebiya herself has eleven children.

But economic inequality is growing, and ethnic minorities tend to be overrepresented among the losers. Restless, unemployed Uyghur youth is far more likely to translate this into ethnic and religious oppression than their no less restless Chinese-speaking brethren.

Is this “cultural genocide” of an ancient sovereign nation? If enough people believe so, then perhaps it is. But whether or not most Uyghurs feel exploited or want to be independent, speeches like Rebiya’s are no more objective representations of reality than reports of the Chinese government. And yet, once again — can an anthropologist be so squeamish when it comes to lending his voice to a legitimate, even if severely skewed, critique of an overwhelming political and military power? Or should he opt for what has been called “salvage orientalism” and go along with the nationalism of the weak against the nationalism of the strong?

Pál Nyiri is Professor of Global History from an Anthropological Perspective at VU University Amsterdam. His earlier posts include Hungarian nationalists claim Eastern origins and Anthropology and Iraq.

See also other posts (in Dutch) on activism.