Violence Ethnographic Encounters

Violence
Violence:Mizoguchi 3/7/09 08:35 Page i

Encounters: ExperienceandAnthropological Knowledge
ISSN: 1746-8175
SeriesEditor: J ohnBorneman
Encounters: ExperienceandAnthropological Knowledgeisaseriesthat examines
eldwork experiences of contemporary anthropologists. It aims to render into
vivid and accessible prose the insights gained fromeldwork on topics such as
money, violence, sexandfood. Theseshort collectionsof essaysarecommittedto:
G thesubjectivequality of sensual experience, tiedtoaparticular timeandplace;
G curiosityindifferenceitself, intranslatingthestrange, foreignor unassimilable;
G storytelling that contributes both to the documentary function of the ethno-
graphic encounter andtoanalytical potential.
Previouslypublishedinthisseries:
Money: Ethnographic Encounters
EditedbyStefanSendersandAllisonTruit
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Violence
Ethnographic Encounters
Editedby
ParvisGhassem-Fachandi
OxfordNewYork
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Englishedition
First publishedin2009
Berg
Editorial ofces:
1st Floor, Angel Court, 81St ClementsStreet, OxfordOX41AW, UK
175FifthAvenue, NewYork, NY 10010, USA
ParvisGhassem-Fachandi 2009
All rightsreserved.
Nopart of thispublicationmay bereproducedinany form
or by any meanswithout thewrittenpermissionof Berg.
Bergistheimprint of OxfordInternational PublishersLtd.
Libraryof CongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Violence: ethnographic encounters/ editedby ParvisGhassem-Fachandi.
p. cm.
Includesbibliographical referencesandindex.
ISBN 978-1-84788-416-9(pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN 978-1-84788-417-6
(cloth: alk. paper) 1. Violence. 2. EthnologyFieldwork. 3. Political
violence. 4. Ethnic conict. I. Ghassem-Fachandi, Parvis.
GN495.2.V5552009
305.8dc22 2009021840
BritishLibraryCataloguing-in-PublicationData
A cataloguerecordfor thisbook isavailablefromtheBritishLibrary.
ISBN 9781847884176 (Cloth)
9781847884169(Paper)
Typeset byAvocetTypeset, Chilton, Aylesbury, Bucks
PrintedintheUnitedKingdomby MPGBiddlesLtd, KingsLynn
www.bergpublishers.com
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Contents
NotesonContributors vii
Foreword x
Acknowledgements xii
Introduction 1
1 WrittenonMy Body 15
BillieJ eanIsbell
2 BandhinAhmedabad 35
3 Fieldwork andFear inIraqi Kurdistan 51
DianeE. King
4 TheSenseof War Songs 71
BilindaStraight
5 SleepingwithOneEyeOpen 79
KristenDrybread
6 A Hell of aParty 97
BrendaMaiale
7 ArrivinginJ ewishBuenosAires 107
NatashaZaretsky
8 Dreamwork andPunishment inLebanon 119
J ohnBorneman
9 UnwelcomedandUnwelcomingEncounters 135
AnnarosePandey
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vi Contents
10 GuidetoFurther Reading 145
Bibliography 157
Index 163
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NotesonContributors
J ohnBornemanteaches anthropology at PrincetonUniversity. Hehas doneeld-
work inGermany, Central Europe, Syria, andLebanonandhas publishedwidely
on issues of kinship, sexuality, nationality, justice and political form. His most
recent ethnographic study is Syrian Episodes: Sons, Fathers, and an Anthro-
pologist inAleppo(2007).
Kristen Drybread teaches anthropology at Columbia University, where she
recently completedher Ph.D. Inadditiontostudyingrelationshipsbetweenincar-
ceration, identity, masculinity and justice among male prisoners in a Brazilian
juveniledetention facility, shehas conducted research on issues of immigration,
nationality, humanrights, andchildhoodsocialization. Shehas conductedethno-
graphicresearchinIndonesia, Brazil and, most recently, inNewYork City. Grants
from the Wenner-Gren, Fulbright Hays, Firestone, and Woodrow Wilson
Foundationsmadepossibleher eldresearchinBrazil.
Parvis Ghassem-Fachandi teaches intheDepartment of Anthropology at Rutgers
University inNewJ ersey. Borninthedividedformer West Berlin, hegrewupin
Germany, France, and Canada. He received his Ph.D. in anthropology from
Cornell University in 2006. He taught at Princeton in 2006 and held a post-
doctoral fellowat theCenter for Religion and Mediaat NewYork University in
20067. Hehascompletedeldresearchonnationalism, religionandviolencein
Gibraltar, theUnitedStates, andIndia. Hehas doneresearchinGujarat in1995,
1999, 2000, 20013and2005. Heiscurrentlycompletingabookonthe2002anti-
MuslimpogrominGujarat, India.
BillieJ eanIsbell isProfessor EmeritaandGraduateProfessor of Anthropologyat
Cornell University. She served in the Peace Corps in Colombia during 19635.
She attended San Francisco State and was awarded a Ph.D. inAnthropology in
1973 fromthe University of Illinois. Her expertise is in theAndean region of
South America. She was the director of the Andean program for Cornell
International Institute for Food, Agriculture and Development from1990 until
2002. Sheservedasdirector of theLatinAmericanProgramat Cornell from1987
to 1993 and again in 20012. She has been a Fellow at the Woodrow Wilson
vii
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viii NotesonContributors
Center, andChercheurAssociedeLcoledesHautestudes, Paris. Shereceived
grants andfellowships fromWoodrowWilson, Fulbright, MacArthur, NEH, and
A FordTraining Grant for Interdisciplinary Training of Graduate Students. The
most recent grants includean Institutefor theSocial Sciences grant (2006) and
two Faculty Innovation inTeaching grants fromtheofceof theProvost (2005,
2007) andagrant fromOlinlibrary tocreateadigital website(2005) resultingin
the following sites: (1) A Virtual Tour through Time and Space: Lessons from
Vicos, Peru (http://instruct1.cit.cornell.edu/courses/vicosperu/vicos-site/, accessed
5December 2008) and(2) agrant fromOlinDigital Collectiontocreateasitefor
Isbellswork (http://isbellandes.library.cornell.edu/, accessed5December 2008).
Diane E. King teaches in the Department of Anthropology at the University of
Kentucky. Shecompletedher Ph.D. at WashingtonStateUniversity in2000. Her
main research site is the Kurdistan Region of Iraq and she has also worked in
SoutheastAsiaandamongKurdishcommunitiesintheUnitedStates. Her topical
interestsincludekinship, gender, migrationandthestate. Previouslyshetaught at
AmericanUniversityof Beirut (20006, except duringtworesearchleaves), wasa
research fellow in the Department of History at the University of Kentucky
(20012) andcarriedout fellowshipssponsoredbytheWilliamandFloraHewlett
Foundation(at UCSD, Spring2004) andtheGeorgeA. andElizaGardner Howard
Foundation(at WashingtonStateUniversity, 20067).
BrendaMaialeteachesintheDepartment of Anthropologyat Hobart andWilliam
Smith Colleges. She completed her Ph.D. at Cornell University in 2008. In her
worksheexamineshowrecent changesinestapracticesaretransforminggender
subjectivitiesinsouthernMexicoandusestheZapotecestaasalenstoexamine
thewaysinwhichlocal congurationsof gender articulatewiththeglobal market,
thenational imagination, and thecontentious body politic of theOaxacan state.
Her research in OaxacaCity and theIsthmus of Tehuantepec was funded by the
National ScienceFoundation, theMario Einaudi Center for International Studies
at Cornell University, andtheTinker Foundation.
AnnarosePandeyteachesanthropology, philosophyandglobal studiesatWestview
HighSchool inPortland, Oregon. Shehasfoundthatworkinginalargepublichigh
school isakindof eldwork inandof itself. Annasresearcheldwork took place
inSidi Ifni, Moroccoduring20012throughaFulbright Grant. Her dissertationis
on the politics of nostalgia in formerly Spanish colonial Morocco. She is com-
pletingher graduatestudy at Cornell University.
Bilinda Straight (Ph.D., University of Michigan1997) is theeditor of Womenon
the Verge of Home and author of Miracles and Extraordinary Experience in
Northern Kenya and numerous articles and book chapters on gender, sexuality,
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religion, material culture, and interethnic violencein northern Kenya. Sheis the
recipient of aFulbright andtwoNational ScienceFoundationgrants. Thelatter are
generously supporting her recent and current work on violence affecting
theSamburupastoralists withwhomshehas conductedresearchsince1992. She
isanassociateprofessor inanthropology at WesternMichiganUniversity.
Natasha Zaretsky(Ph.D., PrincetonUniversity 2008), is acultural anthropologist
who studies political violence, social change, and citizenship. Her recent work
examines thesignicanceof memorial practices to social movements that devel-
oped in the wake of violence in Argentina and how J ewish Argentines engage
memoriesof violenceinredeningtheir relationshiptotheir stateandoneanother
as they negotiate for belonging. Zaretskys current research focuses on the
emergingArgentinediasporainEuropeandtheUnitedStates, investigatingtrans-
formations to Argentinecitizenship and sovereignty in response to political and
economic uncertainty. She currently holds a postdoctoral lectureship in the
PrincetonWritingProgram, wheresheteachesaseminar onpolitical violenceand
social change. Her researchinArgentinawasfundedbyaFulbrightgrant(20012)
and research grants from Princeton Universitys Program in Latin American
Studies, Council onRegional Studies, andPrograminJ udaic Studies.
NotesonContributors ix
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Foreword
Modernanthropology isdifferent fromtheother humansciencesbecauseit takes
the intimate experiences of eldwork to be a primary source of knowledge.
Anthropological and ethnographic knowledge is most often produced through
eldwork, aformof long-termexperiential studythat bringstheresearcher into
direct contact withanOther.Anthropologistshave, of course, incorporatedinto
their own craft methods and techniques of other disciplines history (archival
work), literature (reading texts), linguistics (discourse transcriptions), and psy-
chology (controlledexperimentation); andscholarsinawiderangeof disciplines
havemadeuseof ethnographictechniques. But whileethnographyhasbecomean
important tool in many disciplines, its success has come with more than a few
vexing questions. Is any place a eld site? Should reading in the archives or in
onesownofceberegardedasanencounter withanOther whospeaksbacktothe
researcher throughthetext?Areall eldsites andencounters equally valuableor
productive?
The popularization of ethnography beyond its original context and use chal-
lengesassumptionsof anthropologistsabout their ownuniquecontributionstothe
understanding of culture and about the relative value of the risks they take in
ethnographic encounters. To theextent that anthropologists havesuccumbedto a
professionalizationandstandardizationinstyleof presentation, their accountsare
oftendismissedasobsessedwiththeeveryday or, alternately, asoverly ambitious
theoretical renderings of simplethings. They all too frequently sacricethespe-
cic cultural texture of person and place for a more streamlined theoretical
account that focuses solely on aparticular question or problem. Moreover, since
thedisappearanceof theprimitive as anobject of study, thepublic tends to be
confusedabout what it is, exactly, that ethnographersdo.
Thisseriesonanthropological encountersrespondstothiscontemporary situa-
tion with accounts of actual eldwork experiences focused around selective
themes. Suchpersonal encountersduringeldwork betrayanexperiencewithdif-
ferencethatmakesfor goodreadingandcanbehighlyproductivetheoretically, but
nonetheless tends to beomittedfromstandardacademic accounts. Inadditionto
individual essaysof encountersinawiderangeof societies, eachvolumeincludes
anintroductionthat draws out theparticular questions of theoretical signicance
that suchaccountsposeandsuggestionsfor further readingonthetheme.
x
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Violence: Anthropological Encounters, edited by Parvis Ghassem-Fachandi, is
thesecond volumeof this series. Therst, Money: Anthropological Encounters,
editedby StefanSenders andAllisonTruitt, took upthemany ways inwhichthe
experienceanthropologistshavewithmoney shapestheeldwork experienceand
thekinds of insights generatedfromresearchonabroadvariety of topics. Inthis
secondvolume, anthropologistsdepict anexperienceof violenceduringeldwork
andthendemonstratehowthisshapestheanthropological encounter bothdelim-
itingandgeneratingparticular kindsof insightsaboutit. Inninedifferentchapters,
contributors explores someof theforms violencetakes, theprocesses by which
they learnof theseforms, andthesocial life mental andphysical of theexpe-
rience in SouthAsia, LatinAmerica, Africa, and the Middle East. Their essays
include encounters with: Shining Path and governmental anti-insurgency cam-
paigns in Peru, an RSS member during an anti-Muslimpogromin India; fear
among Iraqi Kurds near theend of SaddamHusseins rule; howfamiliarity with
thewarrior ethos of Samburu pastoralists in Kenyaleads the(American) son of
one anthropologist to consider volunteering for the war in Iraq; brutality and
afnity in a youth detention center in Brazil; violence in relations with a trans-
gendered eldwork assistant in Mexico; local security measures following the
bombingof aJ ewishcommunitycenter inBuenosAires; dreamsandmemoriesof
punishment andcollaborationinSouthLebanonandSyria; andrumorsandsexual
molestationineldwork inMorocco.
Authors were asked to write with a particular concern in mind: to focus on
storiesof their ownencounterswithviolenceineldwork andtoshowhowthese
encountersleadtoparticular kindsof engagementswithcultural difference. They
wereaskedtoresist thetemptationtosubsumetheir writingunder theoretical con-
cerns. Hencecontributorshaveelaboratedtheir specicinteractionsandeschewed
mostof theconventionsthattodayauthorizeethnographicaccounts, suchasexten-
sivehistorical contextualizing, footnoting, long bibliographies, or densetheoret-
ical language. Our wishisthat thereadingof theseessaysawakenanappreciation
for thesubjectivequality of experiential encounters (personal, tiedtoaparticular
timeandplace); for curiosityindifferenceitself, intranslatingthestrange, foreign
or unassimilable; andfor akindof storytellingthat contributes bothto thedocu-
mentary functionof theethnographic encounter andtoitstheoretical potential.
J ohnBorneman
Foreword xi
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Acknowledgements
Thisbookgrewout of aninterest inafrmingthesingularityof face-to-faceeld-
work experience, especially experienceof eventsthat fundamentally lack closure.
TheessaysinthisvolumebyNatashaZaretskyandParvisGhassem-Fachandi were
initially presented as papers at a panel in a session titled Security, Crisis,
Violence, at the 2004 Spring Meetings of the American Ethnological Society
(AES) inAtlanta, Georgia. Most of theother papers werewrittenfor apanel that
wouldhavebuilt ontheAES one, Ethnographic EncounterswithViolenceinthe
Field, plannedfor theAmericanAnthropological Association(AAA) Meetingsin
San Francisco in late 2004. Alas, these meetings were canceled due to a labor
disputebetweenserviceworkersandthehosthotel. I wanttothanktheanonymous
reviewers, as well as those many thinkers and lovers, who contributed to this
volumeintheir ownrespectiveways.
xii
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Introduction
InViolence: EthnographicEncountersanthropologistsoffer rst-handaccountsof
eldwork experiences with violencein Peru, India, Iraq, Kenya, Brazil, Mexico,
Argentina, Lebanon and Syria and Morocco. Written in a decidedly descriptive
style, thestories depict howpersonal experiencewithviolencemadeinsight into
thephenomenonof violencepossible. However, byforegroundingthecontingency
of eldworkexperiences, theunexpectedandunassimilable, theseessaysalsoelu-
cidate where the anthropological project of producing knowledge about other
peoplesandplacesultimatelyndsitslimits: inthebodyandmindof theethnog-
rapher.
Wefollowdiversewritingstrategies andour emphasis is onnarrativedescrip-
tion in lieu of impatient rendering of experience into concepts and theoretical
paradigms. Especially intheU.S., wherepopular cultureopenly cultivates abias
against things intellectual, anemphasis onhistory andtheory inacademic set-
tingsisunderstandable, evenlaudable. But inmuchcontemporaryanthropological
writing, historical texts andhightheory areoftendeployedas substitutes for a
thicker descriptive exposition of what happens during research in the eldwork
settingandelidesworkingthroughour uncomfortableexperiencesonpaper.
Our descriptionsrelyoncreativeandtheoreticallyinformedmethodsandstrate-
giesthat never allowfor apassiveharvestingof factsfor disinterestedpresentation.
They elucidatetheauthors eldexperiencesinandthroughtheact of writing. By
strugglingwiththeadequateexpressionof experience, theauthorsinsistonholding
ontoadifferencebetweentheir owndiscourseandaconceptual apparatus, holding
on to arelation of astonishment and surprise. Our narrativedescriptions hopeto
showinsights gained through theory, submitting neither to theory nor substitut-
ing theory in its exposition. They focus on moments during eldwork that haunt
later memory and which betray an intimacy with difference adifferencethat is
not merely external to the experiencing subject. In this way, we hope,
1
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the reader will be brought into the text, completing the promise of expository
writing.
Althoughtheauthors of this volumeareregional specialists, they do not offer
systematic analysesfor thecausesof violenceintheir ownlocations. Inany case,
thephenomenon of violencetends less to unify subjects than to fragment them.
Rather, weoffer insight intovariedformsof violenceindiverselocationsby situ-
atingviolenceintheintersubjectiveexperiencesof eldworkersinencounterswith
a place. As in the rst volume of this series Money: Ethnographic Encounters
(editedbyAllisonTruitt andStephanSenders), thisbook doesnot, then, suggest a
general theoryof our objectof inquiry-violence. Thereisalargeliteratureonvio-
lencethat precisely tries tosystematizeindividual accounts intoageneral theory,
whichhasmuchtooffer thedisciplineof anthropology. Hence, aselect annotated
bibliography for further reading on theories and ethnographies on violencecon-
cludesthebook.
Our focus on the experience of violence in eldwork hopes to contribute not
only toageneral awarenessof conict studiesthroughout theworldbut alsotries
toshowinwhichspecic waystheintimateencounter withaparticular placeina
limited amount of time can have heuristic value. How can our encounters tran-
scendtheact of gatheringdata, or thestrategies of gainingaccess to information
in order to produce what social scientists often refer to as explana-
tion? Anthropological contributions drawn out of eldwork experienceproduce
knowledgethat is refractedby social relationships inconcretecontexts of human
interaction in which the researcher partakes intimately. Fieldwork experiences
remainopentointerpretationandareanecessary preludetomorerigorousforms
of theorization/explanation. Wehopethat inthiswaythedesiretounderstandvio-
lence and thus the attempt to control the meaning of it is led on to a detour of
Verstehen(understanding). This detour canbothleadus to better understand, and
to acknowledge our limits in comprehending the causes, effects, and forms of
violence.
Wewriteat amoment whenmilitary strategistshavestartedturningtowardthe
social sciences for insights and methods in intelligence work and counter
insurgency operations. Military strategistsnowevokeethnographic intelligence
and have initiated a cultural turn to minimize what analysts call friction
in military parlance all newly employed buzzwords (cf. Gusterson 2006,
Gonzalez 2007, Tyrell 2007). It is disturbing to realizethat dueto theproblems
facedbyAmericantroopsintheoccupationof IraqandAfghanistan, militaryintel-
ligenceagenciesconceiveof their ownmiscalculationsnowasafailuretoemploy
ethnographic eld methods. In the age of the phraselator, when young
anthropologists might berecruitedinto theC.I.A. andmilitary inorder to facili-
tatenonkinetic solutions to tensions ontheground, it is important to intervene
and correct navemisconceptions of what is at stakein contemporary eldwork
encounters.
2 Violence
The U.S. military now attempts to operationalize ethnographic knowledge in
order tomakeupfor past policymistakes. But if theyhadtakenethnographyseri-
ously beforehand, they wouldhavebeencautionedagainst misguidedadventures
suchastheIraqi occupationintherstplace. Thenewdeploymentof ethnographic
methods is supposed to improvetherelationship betweenAmerican soldiers and
Iraqi civilians intheir everyday encounters, toremoveobstacles tothesuccessful
social engineeringof occupation. Ethnographic knowledgeis merely supposedto
mitigate tension, to provide the lubricant that will make occupation run more
smoothly.
However, as this volumeshows, thevery thingmilitary logic renders as fric-
tion and tries to minimize theunexpected and incalculable is precisely the
stuff that makesfor ethnographicinsight. What makestheethnographicencounter
essentially different in intent and outcome fromthe military one is that it
allowsfor anencounter witharealitythat doesnot behaveandact asexpected. In
the eldwork encounters of anthropologists, the other is not predicated or
dependent upononesownexpectationsanddemands: thenativedoesnot execute
acts andthoughts that atheoretically informedeldworker might bewaitingand
wishing for. Hence, the problemwith the military encounter is not that it lacks
insights into nativeculture (as embarrassing and revealing as that may be). A
lack of knowledgeof local ways, desiresandcomplaints, might leadtomisunder-
standings, but it is not an obstacle for encounter the way we conceive of the
concept. Rather, by minimizingfriction themilitary foreclosesaspecic possi-
bilityof interactionwiththeother inorder toavoidtheincalculableriskthatcomes
withit.
In other words, the military attempts to control the encounter by foreclosing
certain experiences that might challengeits authority theoppositebehavior of
thecontemporary ethnographer, whousually hastosubmit totheauthority of the
other as a condition of access. For the military the possibilities for a project of
Verstehen (understanding) are irretrievably lost. In this the military remains its
own biggest obstaclebecauseby default it has to deny itself theunexpectedand
incalculable moments of encounter. This would essentially mean that the other
freely assumes a position, leaves an imprint, inclusive of expressing opposition
andresistance. Thereasons for this fact areas vital, as they arebanal: amilitary
operationdoesnotinvestinunderstandingfor itsownsake, butonlyinsofar asnew
insights promise strategic results and advantages. Thus using ethnographic
methods as mechanical tools employed to achieve preconceived ends, even if
infusedby cultural sensitivity, guards against thevery insights that might liein
an ethnographic encounter. Theresult of this muted and asymmetrical exchange
betweentheU.S. military andforeignsubjects, evenif informedby ethnographic
method, will beviolence, regardlessof thedegreeof cultural competencybrought
intotheencounter.
Introduction 3
EightObservationsonViolenceandtheAnthropological Encounter
Thefocus onviolenceis no longer anovelty withinanthropology. For morethan
twenty-veyears, detailedstudiesonviolence itssocial forms, causes, andfunc-
tions havepervadedthediscipline, someof whicharementionedinChapter 10.
A decadeago, KrohnHansen(1997) evenarguedthat thestudy of violencetypi-
es thecurrent moment inanthropology inNorthAmerica. But whereas anthro-
pologistshavebecomeeager toengage andskilledinengaging moderntheorists
of violence and conict (e.g., Georg Simmel, Walter Benjamin, HannahArendt,
GeorgesBataille, J acquesDerrida, PierreBourdieu, Michel Foucault, RenGirard,
Hans Magnus Enzensberger, GiorgioAgamben), they usually avoidincorporating
intoanalysestheir ownpersonal encounterswithviolenceintheeld. Entryintothe
eldworkersownexperienceswithviolenceintheeldleadstoeightobservations.
First, to the degree that during eldwork anthropologists are confronted with
serendipitous, unsettling violence, violence in eldwork is always also a violent
experience. Suchencountersnot onlythreatentheethnographersphysical integrity
but alsodamagetheintegrity of theinquiry by castingdoubt onthepossibility for
understanding. When we seek to integrate the ethnographic experience into the
reasons and effects of violence, an understanding of what happens seems either
generally impossible, or all too banal. In witnessing violence, the researcher
becomesapart, oftenintimate, of what isbeingstudied, andthereforecomplicit in
thefurther unfoldingof events. Thisholdstruefor all contributionsof thisvolume.
As Feldman (1995: 228) has put it, violence never stands in a relation of pure
externalitytotheconsciousnessof theresearcher. Theinabilitytoextricateoneself
fromwhat onestudiesisfundamental inanyexperiencebut holdsparticularlytrue
for an encounter with violence, where the moral or physical integrity of the
researcher isput at risk.Yet, at thesametime, suchextricationremainsanecessary
moment inorder toarriveat somedegreeof objectication.
Second, a descriptive exposition of personal experience with violence always
begsthequestionof thedesireof theethnographer. Why doresearchersnot leave
suchscenes?Or stay?Whydotheyparticipateinsituationsof heightenedphysical
andmoral risk whenthey havetheoptionof leavingandlater readingthereports
of others? Behindsuchquestions lurk moredifcult ones, reachingback intothe
biographical past of theresearcher, his or her emotional stateof being, forms of
naivetor cynicism, as well as personal levels of toleranceof andinvestments in
violence. How much violenceonecan bear is closely related to theresearchers
owndomesticexperiencesof abuseor shelteredness, thesenseof self derivedfrom
themand the degree to which professional responsibility has been internalized.
Eachof thesefactorshasitsowncomplexrelationtoclass, gender andthecultural
backgroundof theresearcher.
But these are only sociological indices. The more pertinent question for the
ethnographer ishowthesubjectiveexperienceof violencebringsabout, or allows
4 Violence
for, aninsight about therealitiesinaparticular place. Thesubjectiveexperienceof
violenceispeculiar inthat it tendstooverwhelmother daily experience. Violence
humiliates. Thevictimishumiliatedbybeingreducedtoanobject; thewitnessby
being reduced to impotent bystander and the perpetrator, in retrospect, by an
inability to ever adequately redress theviolenceperpetrated. Or, in turn, all par-
ticipants are humiliated because it is frequently difcult to delineate clearly
betweenvictim, bystander, perpetrator or analyst. Moreover, researchersareoften
plaguedethicallyinpursuinganacademiccareer onthebasisof other peoplessuf-
fering, or alternatively, theyfeel guilt for havingabandonedtheviolent scene its
victims andperpetrators alike towork onother issues. Evenif suchthemes are
not alwaysaddressedexplicitly by thesecontributors, they dobecomeapparent in
theinterstitial spaces of theindividual narratives of this volume. It is herewhere
descriptiveexpositionis apreconditionfor theoretical renderings of accounts, as
will becomeevident below.
Third, topersonallywitnessviolence, evenif oneremainsphysicallyunharmed,
burdens the listener with a debt, which often nds its way into the body of the
researcher. Thisdebt istransmutedintothephysical bodyasawoundandailment
or mentallyintodreams, obsessions, neurosesandrepetitions. Theexperienceof
violenceenterstheresearchersunconsciousandhasthuseffectsbeyondwhat one
isconsciouslyawareof, asIsbell (thisvolume) suggest. Rarelyareanthropologists
preparedfor theviolent eventsthat unfoldaroundthem, muchlessfor theeffects
theyhaveonthemafterwards. Whilesomeanthropologists, whenconfrontedwith
violenceintheeld, may fall mentally or physically ill, others may pursueintel-
lectual paths that academic colleagues may nd obscure. Therearespecial dif-
culties in writing about violence, in objectifying that which has been consumed,
harmed, or destroyed, that which is no longer there except in absences, traces,
wounds, ruins (Borneman, this volume). Oftenthereis adelay inwritingupor a
turnto activism. Thesereactionformations arenot only traceableto theevents
experienced, nor shouldtheybeunderstoodinaregister of causeandeffect. What
is certain, however, is that after violent experiences thereremains aresiduethat
longsfor expression. Thesymptomsof theethnographer, andtheir effectsonaca-
demic careers, oftenbecometheexpressionof thisresidue(Pandey, thisvolume).
Inthiswaytheseresiduesalsoconstitutethedisciplinesinherent limitstoproduce
insight andunderstanding, as they oftencannot beovercomeemotionally or in
writing.
Thedescriptionof suchsymptoms poses many problems for theethnographer,
who on the one hand cannot ignore the connection between experience and its
effectsonbodyandmind, whileontheother handknowsverywell that subjective
interpretationof ones ownexperienceis but onepart of aprocess of objectica-
tionthat might leadtounderstandingof eventsintheeld. Anyact of direct asso-
ciationof symptomwithviolent experience, intheworking-throughprocess, isan
act of interpretation post facto. If those interpretations nd their way into our
Introduction 5
descriptiveforms, they becomecommunicable, opentotheanalytical gazeof the
reader. Inthis way descriptiveexpositionis anecessary part of theethnographic
method, insistingonanopeningtothereader. Intheideal casethereader cancom-
pletethatwhichhasescapedtheauthor abouther owntextand, byextension, about
her ownexperience.
Fourth, violent experiences makefor an interrupted reciprocity. An encounter
withviolenceestablishesaspecickindof rapportbetweenaresearcher andaeld
site, and by extension, with academic institutions once the researcher returns
home. Tothedegreethat theevent addressestheresearcher existentially, therecan
hardlybeanyemotionallysatisfactoryresponse. After eldwork, theethnographer
is left only with eld notes, interview tapes, photos, memories. And, ultimately,
one hopes, the material product of academic labor as answer for events experi-
enced usually awrittentext, possibly alm. Theexpectations anddemands of
perpetratorsandvictimscanbecomeaheavyburdenfor anysuchtext; othershave
existential interestsinwhat theethnographer produces, or choosesnot to. Equally,
anexperiencewithviolencelacksclosure; it leavesbehindresiduesandcanfoster
guilt for havingwitnessedwithout havingintervened, doubtsabout whether more
couldhavebeendone, anurgetoshareinsights widely. Theeffects of experience
arecontradictory: material datathat resistscirculationwhilesimultaneouslycom-
pellingcommunication. Theseeffects arecapableof paralyzingtheethnographer
or, onthecontrary, joltingtheethnographer into asort of cathartic babel often
derided as unintelligible by colleagues. The loss of control in the eld is often
replicatedoutsidetheeld, andaccompaniedby afeelingof trepidationwithlan-
guage, about howwhat onebringsback might beunderstoodandreadby others.
Sometimes colleagues aredeeply suspicious of our attempt to makewords t
and take the place of horric experiences. They see researchers of violence as
obsessed with violence, overidentied, a clear instance of contagious magic
withintheacademy. Ethnographersreport that initial interest intheir insightsand
experiences metamorphoses into skepticismtowards themand their work gener-
ally. Thespecial authorityestablishedbytheethnographer of violencecanunsettle
asensitivebalance, asoundacademiccomposure, anassumeddistancetoanddis-
interest in theobject of study. Yet ethnographers caught by violencein theeld
must struggletocreatethis object. That struggleis ongoingandinterested. Since
scientic objectivity canno longer beassertedwithout enteringinto epistemo-
logical mud battles, the ethnographer of violence herself becomes suspect as a
person, inextremecases leadingto alienationfromcolleagues who wouldother-
wisebesympathetic.
Thebanal brutalityof violence, whoseexperiencemost oftenescapeslanguage,
at timescompelspoesis, aformof academic infusion, wherewhat cannot beren-
deredinnormal waysbecomestransposedintoahighlycomplexlanguage, which
is oftenlater critiquedandviewedby colleagues as aformof obfuscation. To be
sure, assuming narrative control over an experience permeated by a feeling of
6 Violence
helplessness is anarduous task andit canultimately fail. Thereader of narrative
products of violent experiences, however, especially thosethat promiseadequate
understanding andexplanation, shouldremainawareof thefact that they can
be subverted forms of denial, displacement and repression in themselves. Both
transparent writingasmuchasobscurerenderingscanbeformsof defenseagainst
theeffectsof experiences. Expository writingisthusalsoanattempt tospeak the
unspokenthat lies behindevery existential experience, wherewhat oneclaims to
know is also an instance of something that one does not want to acknowledge.
Often, for example, writingconcealsthefact that onewasirretrievably harmedin
the encounter, or that ones actions were in no way heroic, but self-interested,
nave, or ignorant. Most signicantly, weinthisvolumeseek toopenaspacethat
allows others access intheformof presentationof our essays, so that thereader
caninterrupt, addto, andinterpret thediscourseof theethnographer.
Fifth, theforms that violencetakes inspecic locations arenot identical. The
residue of violent experiences can become productive for future work and can
determinehowviolencewill betheorized, howcauseandeffectwill beestablished,
what books will beread, what question will beasked. In other words, thetheo-
rizing about violencehas much to do with how violencewas initially perceived
andexperienced, aswell ashowit isrepresentedlocally inshort, howit entered
theresearchersconsciousness(Straight, thisvolume). It isthesemomentsthat we
aretryingtoretrieveinorder tointroduceareexivemoment intotheanalysisof
violence, frequently lackinginwork onviolence, especially outsidethediscipline
of anthropology. The way we as researchers understand violence is never com-
pletely separate from the way it is represented locally, its symbolic form
(Ghassem-Fachandi, thisvolume).
Onemight cautionthat this sort of endeavor is only possibletothedegreethat
the experiences in question were not so extreme as to splinter recollection and
disableconstructivememory work (asintrauma). If violenceexpressesitself dif-
ferently inrelationtodiversegeographical, political, andcultural contexts state
terror, insurgency, revolution, war, raid, communal violence, class conict, secu-
rity measures, penitentiary violence, sexual violence theeldworker on whose
experienceit is based has an intimateknowledgeof theseforms only if shewas
abletoestablishsomedistancefromher experiencesintheprocessof writing.
Sixth, dueto theincreasing corporatenatureof academic anthropology, eld
experiences have become part of the professional armature of the academic
persona in the symbolic economy of expertise. In academic institutions, anthro-
pologists relate to one another through competition (for jobs, postdocs, fellow-
ships and grants) and unwieldy eld experiences become micromanaged and
deployed strategically. In this way they ultimately fail to provide the reexive
screenout of whichlong-termethnographicmaturitycangrow. Althoughthecon-
tingency of eldwork rejection, ambiguous relationships, animosities, and
unwanted encounters areas vital for producing insight about aplaceas awell
Introduction 7
planned-out graduate education, these experiences are usually relegated to
informal venues or disappear entirely. Elidingtheseexperiences by not providing
astagetocommunicatethem, however, risksmakinganthropologyadishonestand
facilediscipline.
To besure, acertaindegreeof discreetness about personal experiences is cer-
tainly preferabletoasort of institutionalizedconfession, whichcouldfast degen-
erateintonewwaysof exertinginstitutional power. Anexperience, however, isnot
something that one can succeed or fail in: one can only describe it. Narrative
descriptions havetheadvantage or: thenasty sideeffect that they escapethe
intentionof their authors. Inthis way they allowacareful reader to gazeinto the
sceneswithadifferentsortof insight.A descriptionof anexperiencewithviolence
lays bareones concreteactions andemotions inviolent moments, as well as the
fault lines of their erasure during the writing process. All of the authors of this
volumeareawareof this fact, which remains avaluableasset for theprocess of
workingthrough. Of course, many of theauthors might act differently today and
that withtimethey might writedifferently about their experiencesastheir under-
standingof theeventswill havetransformed. Nonetheless, theyhavebeenwilling
toshare. It isuptothereader toacknowledgethiscourageandshowgenerosityin
thisrespect. Intheend, it isonlythroughareader that agenuinereexivitycanbe
accomplished.
Seventh, inviolent contextsfemalesexual subjugationseemstobethepreferred
modeof humiliationacrosscultures. Whatbecomesapparentinamajorityof these
narratives is the special position of gendered violence against women. For the
editor of this volume this was unexpected and in no way foreseen. Most of the
eldworkers werewomenandtheir narratives depict attempts of sexual violation
against them, at timessuccessful, indiversesocial andcultural contexts. Theway
inwhichfemalebodies becometheinstanceof mens afrmationof masculinity
(Straight), inhonor killings(King), anopportunityfor violent abuse(Pandey), the
fantasy of it (Drybread), or thethreat of it (Isbell), aspreferredsitefor sacricial
consumption(Ghassem-Fachandi) andapossibilityfor subvertingnormativefem-
ininity (Maiale), shows how eldwork vulnerability is structured by a clearly
markedgender inequalityand, at theriskof soundingold-fashioned, bypatriarchy.
If it is truethat womenoftenseemless of adanger for natives inlocal contexts,
oneshouldaddcautiously that inviolent contexts femalebodies areenteredinto
violent exchangemuchmorereadily and, it seems, almost automatically at times.
In moments of violent transference, with which eldworkers are confronted,
femalesexual subjugation seems to bethepreferred modeof humiliation across
cultures. A woman showing self-condence and generosity towards local ways
seemsinnoway safefromsuchformsof violent encounters.
Finally, eighth, thiseditedvolumeisalsoabout thosebooksthat havenot been
written, especiallyinthecaseof older, moreexperiencedethnographers, or ethno-
grapherswhohavechosentoleavethedisciplinebecauseof their eldexperiences
8 Violence
withviolence. Aninabilitytondproper expressiveformspreventstheseethnog-
raphers fromcommunicating what they have experienced. If this denes on the
onehandthelimits of anthropological writingabout violenceineldsites, it on
the other hand also provides an opening beyond the disciplinary cannons of
writing, thepossibility of transpositionintomorecreativeandless circumscribed
expressiveforms. Notably, in thecaseof BillieJ ean Isbell, theinability to write
anthropologically about her experiences withShiningPathandmilitary forces in
Peru has given birth to a play, Public Secrets fromPeru, and a novel, Finding
Cholita, on which sheworked for over 20 years, choosing artistic expression in
lieuof whatamorenarrowscienticstylecouldhaveachieved. Itistobeexpected
that some of the other authors, too, most of whomare early in their respective
careers, will nd similar solutions to the impasses of academic writing about
violent experiences.
What unites the ethnographic accounts of this volume is that the researchers
provideaccess to theeldby sharinganexperiencethat is intrinsic andsympto-
matic for a particular place violence that becomes inscribed onto the body
(Isbell), that is denied while used as communication between individuals and
groups (Maiale, Ghassem-Fachandi), that is openly celebrated (Straight), that
spells fear (King), that becomes petried into security measures (Zaretsky), that
causes dreams of punishment and transference(Borneman), that engenders fan-
tasiesof stabbingandrape(Drybread), andisenactedphysically (Pandey). These
intimateexperiences createasort of humblinginsight, whichseldomlends itself
to ofcial representations and, at the same time, is not readily recouperable for
projectsof resistancetosuchauthority.
ShortSummaryof Individual Chapters
InWrittenonmy Body, BillieJ eanIsbell describes thelongyears of her rela-
tionshipwithPeru, her experienceswithShiningPathandthePeruvianmilitarys
anti-insurgency campaigns, whichhaveshapedher lifefor decades. Theinability
toever publishher interviewtapes, collectedduringthemilitarysoperationinthe
1980s, wasduetothefact that her material couldbeusedasevidenceof atrocities
by security forces, as well as evidence of Shining Paths atrocities against rural
peasants. Isbell was never ableto resolvetheimpasseof knowingtoo much and
yet never feeling able to communicate this knowledge without putting acquain-
tances at risk. Theexperiencewiththeinsensitivities of academic colleagues, the
dangersof eldwork intheshadowof abrutal regimeandaviolent revolutionary
movement against it, andnot least thefear of her owncountries securityagencies
withtheir geopolitical interest intheregion, left her alternately speechless, para-
lyzed, and aching. It is these experiences that become inscribed into her body,
inaugurating a series of organ failures, diseases and inabilities to assume an
Introduction 9
academic formof expositionfor what transcends by far thedisciplinary logic of
academia.
Parvis Ghassem-Fachandis Bandh in Ahmedabad tells the story of a 2002
anti-Muslimpogromhewitnessedinthecityof AhmedabadintheIndianprovince
of Gujarat. Hisexperiencewiththisunexpectedviolenceduringeldwork wasin
disturbing contradiction to ofcial accounts of Hindu anger that mediaoutlets
used to frame the pogrom. The actual forms of violence on the streets of
Ahmedabad, he found, took the form of a festival celebration, with joy and
laughter. Moreover, phantasmagoric images of an intimate Muslimenemy were
circulatedandviewedwithpleasure, collectively, andthenshowntohim.Although
Hinduidentitywasinfusedwitharhetoricof nonviolence(ahimsa), thecollective
consumptionof imagesof burnedbodiessuggestedasimultaneousdesire, notper-
mittedexpressioninquotidianlife, toeliminate throughcutting, butchering, and
burning that part of theHindunationthat insistedondistinction: theMuslim. In
refusing incorporation into Hindutva ideology, Muslims became the object for
Hinduanger, somethingtoget ridof by makingthemintoonesowninsacrice.
DianeE. KingFieldwork andFear in Iraqi Kurdistan, describes theauthors
rivetingexperiencesintheKurdishregionof Iraqduringthe1991to2003interwar
period. Whilethecentral governmentledbySaddamHusseinhadeffectivelywith-
drawn and left the area under Kurdish control, the new administrations sover-
eignty went unrecognized by the outside world and uncertainty reigned. During
thisconfusingtime, atimeof competingsovereignties, Iraqi Kurdswereforced
tocopewithreal andimagineddangers. Theseincludedthethreat of areassertion
of SaddamHusseinsreignof terror thathadincludedattemptedgenocide, dangers
posedbyTurkeysinterestintheregion, conictbetweenthepeshmergaghtersof
theKDP (KurdistansDemocraticParty) andPUK (PatrioticUnionof Kurdistan),
attacksbythePKK (KurdishWorkersParty), tribal revengekillings, andIslamists
who threatened to turn violent. The daily need to dodge risks of possible death
meantconstantlyevaluatingtheinterestsandactionsof other actorssuchasTurkey
andtheUnitedStates, international NGOsandtheUN, aswell asthemachinations
of theIraqi secretpolice, themukhabarat. Outof thisbarrageof risk, adetrituslife
is lived at the margins of the absurd. King shows how the omnipresent fear is
answered by passing jokes about a tyrant and that its voicing can paradoxically
producerelief asfear that issharedispurged if onlyfor amoment. Whenall that
is left to exchange are anxious narratives, their exchange creates a community
under the shadow of shared fear. The authors own practices of listening were
alteredasshecametounderstandthecollectionof ethnographicdataanddecisions
astowhomtotrust andwhomtoavoidasdeeplyboundupwithher ownphysical
safety.
BilindaStraights TheSenseof War Songs reects onmany years of experi-
ence with Samburu pastoralists in Kenya. The Samburu not only boast of their
violent accomplishmentsinwar theyfrequentlyalsoengageininterethniccattle
10 Violence
raids withtheir neighbors, thePokot andtheTurkana. Inthe1960s theSamburu
becamevictimof adeadlyattack bySomalisandin2005anewroundof violence
eruptedbetweentheSamburuandthePokot. Theauthor describeshowher eldest
son, whoaccompaniedher totheeld, becomesgraduallyinitiatedintothewarrior
ethosof Samburulife, andsubsequently considersjoiningtheU.S. airforceinthe
war in Iraq, against his mothers wishes. J uxtaposing her own initial fascination
withthecelebrationof braveryandromanceinSamburuwar songgenreswiththe
violent realitiesontheground, shecomestoinhabit apositioninSamburusociety
that opposes theneedfor youngmento provethemselves inbattle: mothers who
mourntheir lostsons. Samburumotherscritiquetheneedfor braveryandthecom-
plicity of many Samburu girls, who encourageyoung men to becomekillers by
anointingandhonoringthem.
KristenDrybreadsSleepingwithOneEyeOpen,describesexperiencesinside
a Brazilian youth detention center with the euphemistic name Center for
Resocializationof Minors (CRM). After initial problems of access toinmates, a
self-inictedknifewoundthatlandsher inahospital establishesher credibilityand
legitimacy amongst inmates. Knife stabbings are crimes that many juvenile
inmatesareidentiedwith beit asvictimsor perpetrators. Theaccident, andits
material proof intheformof ascar, morphs intorumors about theknifeattack
thatsheallegedlysurvivedandinmatesstarttoprotecther frompossibleharmlike
theft, rape, or murder. Simultaneously, however, althoughher presenceisacknowl-
edgedascalmingtensionsamonginmates, thenewtrustshereceivesfrominmates
nowrenders her suspicious intheeyes of theinstitution. Increasingly shecomes
tobetreatedasacriminal, nally culminatinginher exclusionandthepremature
terminationof her ethnographic work. Asbecomesclear inher narration, thevio-
lence that detention is supposed to ward off continues within the institution, in
whichabrutal hierarchyisenforcedbyprisonwardsandinmatesalike, recreating
theviolent order that theinstitutionissupposedtoremedy.
Brenda Maiales A Hell of a Party speaks of the relationship with her rst
eldwork assistant Francisco in Oaxaca, Mexico. Initially studying the role of
women in local cheesemaking production shesoon comes to realizethat many
cheesemakersareinfact not women, but muxe(pronouncedmoo-shey), aZapotec
category of transgendered people. Muxe inhabit an interstitial space channeling
hyper-femininity throughbeauty, andhyper-masculinity throughmalemachismo,
inacontext of poverty, violence, andheavy alcohol consumption. Francisco, who
ismuxe, encouragesher tosponsor amajor esta, whichpromisesher integration
intolocal circuitsof reciprocity.Yet, unawareof thelocal dynamicsof prestigeand
shame, Maiales nancial cosponsorship causes Francisco to be humiliated as
sportingagirlfriend tonancetheesta. Thefollowingcycleof resentment and
violencespirals into adisaster. It is this ambivalent relationship that most effec-
tively allowedher to understandthesocial nexus of poverty, violence, andsocial
abjectionthat denesthelifeof many muxeinOaxaca.
Introduction 11
Natasha Zaretskys Arriving in J ewish Buenos Aires follows the authors
searchfor theJ ewishcommunity inArgentinascapital inthewakeof deadly ter-
rorist attacks in 1992 and 1994 respectively. Upon arrival theauthor is immedi-
ately confronted with an array of heightened security measures surrounding a
vulnerablecommunity that has lost its condenceinthelocal governments will-
ingnessor abilitytoprotect them. TheJ ewishcommunityoftenbecomesvisiblein
the citys landscap through measures that seek to ward off potential threat, yet
thesemeasures also carry consequences for their relationshipto non-J ewishresi-
dents. Inthis cycletheauthor becomes initiatedinto what it means to bepart of
the J ewish community in Buenos Aires. In one particular instance she herself
becomesimplicatedasposingapossiblethreat. Throughthisexperienceshecame
tounderstandsecurity measuresnot only asmeanstowardoff danger but assites
of memoryinwhichfear iscirculatedandtransmittedintothessuresof everyday
lifeinthecity.
J ohnBornemans Dreamwork andPunishment inLebanon narrates anarray
of experiences with memories of war and collaboration after the sudden with-
drawal of Israeli troopsfromsouthernLebanon. Throughdreamsandencounters
withresidentsinLebanonandSyriaintheyear 2000, Bornemanpaintsapsychic
landscape ravaged by layers of violence: bombings, civil war, war, occupation,
torture, retributionagainst collaborators andpremonitions of thevery real threat
of renewed futureconict. Thethickness of violenceand themany registers of
memory andtraumathat denenot only Lebanonbut this politically intractable
region is revealed in informal conversations and unplanned contexts, which in
turn produce multiple discourses in which to think, and multiple, often impos-
sibledemandsonhim. Bornemanbeginshisaccount withhisowndreamsof pun-
ishment, and then focuses on the processes of transference and counter-
transference insharedwords, dreams, condences integral toall ethnographic
eldwork that relies onpersonal encounters. Inaformer Israeli detentioncenter
used by Israel for interrogation and torture now a memorial site run by
Hezbollah hegets caught in such aprocess: ayoung man appeals to him, the
American visitor, for recognition of an Israeli massacre at Qana. Borneman
acknowledgesthewrong, but thisdoesnot satisfy theyoungman, whoinsistson
anequivalencebetweentheQanamassacreandtheHolocaust. Borneman, inturn,
interprets this claimas an inappropriate attempt to elevate the massacre to the
crimeof genocide. Butwhatisinappropriatetotheanthropologistcarriesurgency
for the man who represents the victims of Israeli violence. If the Holocaust
becomes frequently used as an apologetics for Israeli violence, then perhaps
gettinganAmericantoadmit historical equivalencewouldbetheinitial condition
necessary to securethat desperately needed recognition. Caught in this impasse
between what he perceives as a legitimate demand for empathy and an illegiti-
matedemandfor arecognition that entails equatingincommensurableevents of
suffering, Bornemaneestheencounter.
12 Violence
Annarose Pandeys Unwelcomed and Unwelcoming Encounters tells the
authors personal experiences with abuse in Sidi Ifni, a culturally conservative
town in Southern Morocco. After enthusiastically arriving in the small town to
learnArabicandbegineldwork, Pandeyisconfrontedwithseveral formsof local
rejectionandharassment, rstbystateofcialsthenbylocalsthatshebravelytries
to grapplewith. After several attempts to staveoff negativeencounters including
insinuations that she was a prostitute, her stay culminates in an instance of
molestationandsexual assault. Consequentlyshelefttheeld,bothSidi Ifni and
thedisciplineof anthropology. Her account casts doubt uponmany unquestioned
assumptionsabout eldworkasaritedepassage, somethingthat oneiscompelled
to pass throughandshouldforceoneself to endure. Her account also criticizes a
discipline that seems incapable and unwilling to genuinely address and discuss
failedencounters. Whendoweknowthat wearenot welcomed?Andwhat dowe
doif wearenot welcomed?Andwhendoweacknowledgethat anencounter has
failed?
Introduction 13
1
WrittenonMyBody
BillieJ ean I sbell
Cangallo, Peru, 1975
Doctora, this way please, theinvestigator wishes to speak to you. Hes waiting
upstairs, and with these words it all began in May of 1975 as the mayor of
Cangallousheredmeupstairstoawindowlessroominthebackof thesecondoor
of themunicipality wherethePeruvian Investigatory Police(P.I.P.) ofcial from
Limawas waiting. Wewalkedupthehand-hewnwoodenstairs anddownadark
hallway to aroomintheadobe, colonial building. Inthedimlight, I couldseea
gurewaitingandI felt nauseousasI approached. Heickedhistongueover his
lips like a lizard catching a y before welcoming me with: Doctora we are
honoredtohavesuchanesteemedresearcher at our humblecelebration. Hiseyes
betrayedhisreal intentastheysweptupanddownmybodyslowly, undressingme,
pausingat mybreasts, crotchandthenappraisingmylegs. I detectedasneer ashe
examinedmyheavywalkingshoes. School teachersandwivesof bureaucratswore
high heels even though they made walking hazardous on the stone paths.
Instinctively I wantedto cover my body so I hurriedly pulledmy poncho onover
mysweater andculottes, acompromisebetweenpantsandafull skirt that gaveme
freedomtosquat ontheground. Hemotionedfor metosit onalonechair inthe
center of the windowless room. When he waved his hands toward the chair, I
noticedthat they wereunusually small for aman, andextremely well manicured
withpolishednails. That struck meashumorousandI smilednervously. Hemust
havetakenmysmileasasignal of sexual attractionbecausehestretchedtohisfull
height of about vefoot, veinches(sixinchesshorter thanme). Heranhisman-
icuredhandsover hisslickhair. Prancingonhistiptoesover towhereI wasseated,
hestoodover mewithhis hands onhis hips andhis legs wideapart. Seor P.I.P.
wasaboutmyage, inhislatethirties, dressedinanill-ttingdressjacketandpants
that hadbeenbadly altered. Heremindedmeof Perus national bird, theCock of
15
theRock, RupicolaPeruviana.Themalesof thisspeciesuff their brightredhoods
andcompeteinaprancingbobbingdanceto attract thedrabbrownfemales con-
signed to build the nests and raise the baby birds while the males are off to
competeintheir perpetual performancetoattract morefemales. WomenI knowin
Limasaythebirdisanappropriatesymbol for themachismotheyhavetoendure.
Ontheeveningbeforethis eventful day inCangallo, I hadreceivedamessage
fromthePrefect of theDepartment of Ayacucho, theequivalent tothegovernor of
astate, at thehomeinthecapital cityof oneof mymestizocompadreswhowasa
school teacher inChuschi, thesiteof my eldwork. Themessageinvited meto
attendtheestathat thetown of Cangallo was celebratingfor its 100th anniver-
saryastheseatof theprovincial government. Themessagedidnotexplainwhymy
presencewasrequired, onlythat I wasthesubject of aninvestigation. Under inves-
tigation? For what?
I slept tfully inmy rentedroomintheoldhaciendahousethat night, tossing
andturning, I spent thenight watchingthebright blinkingeyesof theweaselsthat
livedinthethatchroof sixteenfeet abovemybed. AsI wasthrowingafewthings
into abackpack thenext morning, my comadreslipped into theroomand whis-
pered: Comadre, dale bola al Prefecto y pides un puesto enAyacucho para tu
compadre. I hadbecomeaco-mother toher daughter bysponsoringamassfor
thegirls healthandmycomadrefelt that gaveher theright to tell meto givethe
Prefect alittlepieceof assandthenask himtotransfer her husbandtoAyacucho!
I replied: Youareout of your mind. Sheonlylaughedandpattedmeontheback
asI rushedpasther andmarchedoutof theroomintothecrumblinginterior court-
yard.ThePrefectwaswaiting, leaningonthecolonial fountainthatnolonger func-
tioned, except to hanglaundry onto dry. Theentireextendedfamily andseveral
renters accompanied me through the small access door cut into the massive,
double wooden portal that bore the remnants of sixteenth-century carvings and
cheerfully waved goodbyeas oneof thenational guardsmen politely opened the
back door of thePrefects ancient Fordandsaid: At your service, doctora. My
comadre grabbed my shoulder before I got in and whispered in my ear: Dont
forget.
What adisgustingwoman, I thought. HowdidI get entangledincompadrazgo
relationshipswithpeoplethat I detested?At that point I hadtengodchildrenandI
likedthepeasantQuechua-speakingfamiliesbutthemestizoshopkeepers, teachers
and bureaucrats, were grasping and greedy. Early in my eldwork the school
teacher andhiswifehadofferedtorentmearoomintheoldhaciendahouseinthe
cityof Ayacuchothat wasunder thedominionof hismother, apowerful matriarch.
Their familyhada350-year historyinthedistrictof Chuschi asdescendantsof the
administrator of the rst colonial salt mine located in the mountains above the
community.
Once I was installed in the matriarchs house, the schoolteacher and his wife
askedmetosponsor amassfor thehealthof their daughter inthehopeof climbing
16 Violence
afewrungsof thesocial ladder. I therebybecamegodmother totheir daughter and
comadretoher parents, whichextendedspiritual compadrazgorelationshiptothe
entirefamily. I thoughtabouttheseentanglementsastheywavedgoodbyeandsaid
inunison: May Godbewithyou, comadre; well bewaitingfor your return.
In 1975 I had returned to the village of Chuschi with the intention of estab-
lishing a bilingual Spanish/Quechua programin the primary schools under the
auspiceof theministryof educationwithfundingfromtheFordFoundation. I did
not understand until later that many of the teachers had become supporters or
members of Shining Path, the Maoist-inspired insurgency that waged a 20 year
war to overthrowthePeruviangovernment to establishwhat they calledtheNew
Democracyof Peru. Rather thanaNewDemocracy, theinsurgencydevelopedinto
a rigid, hierarchical death cult that worshiped its leader, Abimael Guzmn, who
began his revolutionary career as a philosophy professor in the University of
Huamangain thecapital city of Ayacucho and ended his 20 year reign of terror
capturedandjailedfor lifein1992. Throughthe1990s hewas still reveredby a
fewfollowersasPresidenteGonzalo, thefather of ShiningPath.
Guzmnwas asterndisciplinarianwhodemandedtotal loyalty andobedience.
Inoneof thepledges recordedinthebook of PresidenteGonzalosThought that
became a cadre bible along with the Little Red Book of Mao, members of the
movement wererequiredtoswear that:
Wegiveour full andunconditional submissiontothegreatest livingMarxist-Leninist-
Maoist onearth: our belovedandrespectedPresidenteGonzalo, chief andguideof the
Peruvianrevolutionandtheworldproletarianrevolution, teacher of Communists and
party unifier. We give full, unconditional submission to the scientific ideology, the
infallibleideology that illuminatesour pathandarmsour minds. Wegiveour submis-
siontotheworldproletarianrevolution. Wegiveour full andunconditional submission
tothequota. Wewill crosstheriver of bloodtovictory.
Submissionto thequotameant dyingfor thecause. Theonly way to leavethe
insurgency was feet rst. According to the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation
Commissionreport publishedin2003, theriver of bloodover whichtheinsurgents
hadtocrosstoachievetheNewDemocracy, wasmadeupof approximately70,000
fatalities, of which85per cent werecivilians. Most werefrompeasant Quechua-
speakingcommunities likeChuschi inthedepartment of Ayacucho. ShiningPath
ofcially declaredits war against thestateof Peruby burningtheballot boxes in
thevillageof Chuschi on May of 1980andcelebratedthat dateas theI.L.A., la
iniciadelaluchaarmada, thebeginningof thearmedstruggle, eventhoughshots
werenot redonthat day. Thepronunciationof I.L.A. is thesameas Illa, which
means messenger in Quechua and refers to offerings made to the mountain
deities and to Pachamama, Earth Mother. As amessageto thestateof Peru, the
theft of ballots was akey symbolic act becauseit was therst timein Peruvian
WrittenonMyBody 17
historythat illiterateswereallowedtovoteandmoreover, it wasalsotherst dem-
ocratic electionin17years. At thetimeno onetook theevent very seriously and
theballotswerereplaced. I later learnedthatthetheftof theballotswascarriedout
byteachersandstudentsof thesecondaryschool inChuschi astheinitiationof the
long-termstrategy for takingcontrol of theregionthat beganin1975.
Fiveyearslater, whentheyburnedtheballotsin1980, ShiningPathalreadycon-
trolledtheschools as bases of indoctrinationandhadinstitutedimprovements in
education. They increasedtheir efforts to replacethebureaucratic ofcials inthe
towns of region with their own members without the knowledge of the depart-
mental or stategovernments. Inthatyear theybegantheir campaignof punishment
of thieves withpublic executions, whichwas initially supportedby communities.
However, when they began executing villageofcials and forbidding rituals and
celebrationsfor patronSaints, oppositiontotheinsurgencygrew, especiallywhen
ShiningPathattemptedtoshut downtheregional market systemwithroadblock-
adesandinstill communal productionfor thewar. By1983, villagersbegantoee
the region en masse because they found themselves between the wall and the
sword takingheavy casualtiesfromboththearmedforcesandShiningPath.
WhenI arrivedin1975to establishabilingual Spanish/Quechuaschool spon-
soredby thestate, thegroundwork was beinglaidfor theinsurgency. At thetime
theteachers oppositionpuzzledmebecauseinpreviousyearsthesesameteachers
hadparticipatedinmyresearchwithchildren. I remember crossingthestreamthat
separated Chuschi fromQuispillaqta, the neighboring village, and climbing the
hill to the whitewashed, single-storied, ve-roomadobe school built with com-
munal labor that wassituatedonthepaththat climbsout of thevalley tothehigh
atplateau, thepuna. ThissameexitroutewasusedbyShiningPathin1983when
they ed to thepuna after an armed encounter with thecombined forces of the
army, navyandpolice, leavingthecivilianpopulationtofacesevererepression: the
heaviest casualtiesoccurredintheyearsof 19835.
Piecingthehistory of theinsurgency together, I learnedthat theMaoist faction
in theUniversity of Huamangahadwon thedebateover what typeof revolution
was necessary for Peru. Thesupporters of Cuban- or Russian-styleuprisings lost
thedebateandGuzmnemergedasleader of ShiningPath. WhileI wasinChuschi
inthesummer of 1975, ShiningPathleaders weretravelingto Chinafor training
inguerrillatactics eventhoughthey didnot initiatetheir popular war until ve
years later in 1980 with the burning of the ballots. Meanwhile in 1975, I was
engagedinabattleof adifferent kind: abattleof telegrams to thePrefect of the
department. The director of schools in Chuschi, who was also the municipal
mayor, accusedmeintelegramstothePrefect of beingaspyfor theC.I.A. I coun-
teredwithtelegramsaccusinghimof offenseswithwhichhewaslater chargedby
ShiningPathbeforeheedtheir wrath. But in1975, his palanca, or pull with
thePrefect, wasstronger thanminewhichresultedinmypoliteestaarrest and
commandappearanceinCangallo.
18 Violence
Sitting in theback seat of theFord with thePrefect, I felt claustrophobic and
fought surgesof panic by focusingonminutiae for example, abugwasghting
against thewindontheoutsideof my windowandI watchedintently. Whenthe
buglost thebattleandwasswept away, I identiedwiththecreatureandmypanic
roseandbrought tears to my eyes. I wipedmy eyes pretendingthat thedust was
botheringmeandthePrefect barkedanorder for thenational guardsmentoroll up
their windows. WhenI turnedtothank him, mygazexatedonthegreasespot in
the middle of his ridiculously short tie. As I stared at it with watering eyes, he
pulledout agray, dirtyhandkerchief fromthebreast pocket of hisshabbysuit and
offeredit tome. I dugquicklyfor aKleenexandsaid: Nothankyou, anddabbed
at myeyes. Hetookhishandkerchief andranit acrosshisbaldingheadbecausehe
wassweatingprofuselyeventhoughtheearlymorningair wascool. Hewipedhis
faceandhandswithhisgrimyhandkerchief andthenreturnedit tohispocket and
reachedacrossandpattedmyarm, assuringmethat everythingwouldbeA OK,
inhisbestAmericanaccent.
Eventually, I turnedto thePrefect andaskedif my invitation to theestain
Cangallohadanythingtodowiththetelegramsthatthemayor of Chuschi hadsent
him. Henervouslysaid, Perhaps, buttheP.I.P. hasbeeninterestedinyoufor some
time. I imaginedmy nameonsomekindof list that wouldmeanthat I wouldbe
under surveillance forever. I countered with: Well, Seor Prefect, I sent you
telegrams informing you that themayor has been accused of stealing municipal
funds. Hehas also been charged with raping astudent. Yes, I know, said the
Prefect, Wehavesomeonewatchinghimandwhenhestealsmoreof themunic-
ipal fundswell arrest him.
I was dumbfounded and just sat in silence. He didnt even mention the rape.
Gazing at thePrefects prolewith sidelong glances, I noticed that hereminded
meof afat versionof onethemaskedguresthat I hadseeninindigenousdance
performances of theconquest of theIncas. Thedancers playing theroleof con-
quistadores wore wire fencing masks that had been painted with long pointed
Spanish faces; black, pencil-thin mustaches that curled slightly at theends; blue
eyes; long, thinEuropeannoses andthinmouths. Themaskeddancers hadmade
methink of mestizaje, themixtureof theracesbecauseI couldstill seetheIndian
featuresthroughthewiremaskof thedancers. ButlookingagainatthePrefect, the
only featurethat was Spanish was thepencil-thinmustachethat was adenite
statementof Spanishbloodbecauseindigenousmenusuallyhadverylittlefacial
or body hair. The Prefect had dozed off so I could inspect his features more
closely: his cheek bones where high and broad, his lips thick and his face also
broad, not longandthin. Moreover, his eyes wereadark brownandhis hair was
straight andjet black. Inaddition, hewaslonginthetorsowithshort legs, another
Indian feature. In fact, physically, he looked typically Indian, only his dress,
uencyinSpanishandeducationplacedhiminthemestizoclassthat hadenabled
himtogainhispolitical position. I decidedtotakeanapmyself andasI fell asleep
WrittenonMyBody 19
I rememberedthat theconquest danceperformanceendedwiththeIncaregaining
thethroneandexpellingtheSpanish.
It took threehours for theoldFordto crawl uptheruttedroads toToccto, the
highest pass, beforedescendinginzigzagswitchbackstothePampasRiverValley.
ThePrefect suggestedthat westopfor abiteto eat beforecontinuingandI won-
deredfor the100thtimewhywouldtheyput arestaurant at thehighest point ona
pass at 4,240meters? I already hadaheadachethat was either causedby altitude
sickness, sorroche, or my nerves. I saidI wouldenjoy acupof cocatea, thecus-
tomaryprescriptionfor sorroche. AsI steppedout of thecar, I noticedthat thesun
wasupover themountainrangesandthehightreelesslandscapewaswarmingup
buttherewerestill frozenicechunkshereandthereglisteninglikecrystal fromthe
nighttimefrost. It was still cool so I kept my poncho onas weenteredtherustic,
cavernous restaurant, which had an open hearth with cooking pots balanced on
stones and abank of primus stoves with frying pans on them. Thetwenty or so
tables were half full of market vendors, men and women making their way to
numerousvillagemarketswhosetrucksoutsidewherepiledhighwithpots, pans,
and plastic containers, school supplies, as well as drums of cane alcohol and
kerosene. Their truckswouldreturntothecapital citylledwithslaughteredbeef,
sheep, as well as live chickens, eggs, cheeses, vegetable produce and the occa-
sional hand-wovenarticleof clothingfor themarket inAyacucho.
Aswesteppedacrossthethreshold, theowner rushedforwardandembracedthe
Prefect, addressinghimas Doctor. Most likely hehadalawdegree. Heturnedto
meandintroducedmeas Doctora J uana, theanthropologist inChuschi who was
thehonoredguest for theanniversarycelebrationinCangallo. I thought, honored
guest my ass, Imunder investigation. Theowner saidthat cuy, guineapigs, had
just been killed that morning and wereready for frying. Quebien, replied the
Prefect, letsall havecuy!
Not for me, I responded, Ill just havematedecoca. Then I changed my
mindandorderedsouprememberingthat uponour arrival inCangallo, I wouldbe
pliedfor therest of theday andeveningwithbeersandglassesof 120proof cane
alcohol becauseestas always includedobligatory, marathondrinking. Whenthe
owner brought my cocatea, heaskedif I hadaheadachefromthealtitudeandI
shook my headafrmatively eventhoughI hadgrownaccustomedtothealtitude
andmy headachewas probably fromtension. Hesmiledandclucked, Pobrecita
gringa, it must bedifcult for youinour uncivilizedland.
Three steaming guinea pigs arrived: The heads were intact with protruding
rodent teeth, crisply friedears, andsunken eyes. I remember therst timeI saw
guineapigonaplatelikethis: Thesight causedmetoremovethemfrommy list
of cutepets. Infact, returningfromPeruin1976, mythree-year-olddaughter saw
the pet guinea and brightly announced to her Montessori class: Oh a cuy, lets
cook it andeat it. Weraisedthemasafoodanimal andpreparedtheminthetra-
ditional fashion beforefryingthehair issinged, andtheyareslit downthebelly.
20 Violence
Thenwhentheyareput intothefryingpan, alargestoneattensthemsothat they
aresplayedat andfriedcrisp.
ThePrefect attackedhisplatewithgusto, breakingoff acrispy ear andsaying:
Theheadisthebest part. Heturnedtomeandaskedif I hadeverytriedcuyand
I replied. Certainly; its delicious but its abit early for me. I prefer soupinthe
mornings.ThegreasycuyandFrenchfriesmademystomachlurchupwardandI
fought nausea. I recountedthat I hadtastedcuyfor therst timeyears beforein
thisvery restaurant. I didnt tell themthat whenthey brought theplateI thought I
hadbeenservedagiant rat withthetail cut off. I hadaskedwhat cuymeant andI
wastoldrabbit, conejo. I remember staringat thecritter onmy plateandthinking
thatsnorabbit. I learnedtolikethedish; it tasteslikepork, but I couldnever eat
thehead.
Thesouparrived: it washot anddelicious, containingquinua(goosefoot), pota-
toes, broad beans, carrots, onions, native greens and chunks of mutton. We n-
ished our meals and thePrefect madea display of offering to pay for all of us,
knowing that the owner would refuse, thus gaining credit in the game of
exchangingfavorsbetweenbureaucratsandmerchants.
Cangallo, theprovincial capital, was atownof about 10,000inhabitants, twice
thesizeof Chuschi, thecapital of adistrict. TheSpanishhadlaidout thetownsto
conformto astandardizedplanwithasquarecentral plaza, locatingtheCatholic
Churchononesideandthegovernment buildingsontheother. Variousstoresand
vendorsoccupiedtheremainingspaceontheplaza: it wasdenitelymestizospace
withthepeasantQuechua-speakingpopulationlivinginthevariousnamedbarrios
beyondtheplaza. Theestawas infull swingwiththetownauthorities gathered
onthebalconyof thetwo-storiedtownhall ontheplazaandthepeasant Quechua-
speaking masses below watching a bull ght that was in progress or rather a
cow ght becausecowsraisedinthehighherdingregion, thepuna, arefar more
ferocious than bulls. Onedrunken local contestant was in danger of being tram-
pledbyanespeciallydeterminedcowbuttwovarayoq, literallyowner of thestaff
of ofce,rushedintothefrayandwavedtheir ponchosinthecowsfacewhiletwo
othersdraggedthedrunkenmantothesidelineswherehiswife, avendor of food
in the plaza, proceeded to loudly berate and pound himwith her sts for being
such a drunken fool. The crowd cheered appreciatively and the upper class, the
mestizo authorities high abovethehububof theplaza, applauded. This dramaof
class structureetched into social spacehas been played out in various forms for
several centuries.
Standing over me, Seor P.I.P.s body blocked out the light coming fromthe
doorway of theroombut, whenhemoved, hisprancinganticslook likeashadow
puppet dancing in the dimlight. The interrogation began. The Peruvian Police
Investigator, Seor P.I.P., askedmeif I was workingwithaDutchanthropologist
andstudentsfromtheUniversityof HuamangainAyacuchowhowerecommunist
agitators. Hisagency, theP.I.P., hadreportsof theseagitatorsoperatingintheRiver
WrittenonMyBody 21
Pampas valley. He was referring to T., who had been my thesis advisor at the
University of Illinois two years earlier. I found it particularly funny that they
thought T., aviolin-playingstructuralist, was acommunist agitator. I triednot to
laughas I answered, yes, that I hadworkedwithhimandateamof anthropology
students fromHuamangabeginningin 1967when weinitiatedresearch in seven
communitiesintheRiver PampasRiver basin. I toldhimthat they werecertainly
not communist agitators. Hethenaskedif therehadbeenforeigners, inChuschi or
intheother communitiesthat I visited. I answeredthat therewerenostrangersin
Chuschi or thesurroundingvillages.
At thebeginning of thewar, Shining Path contingents that swept through vil-
lages were said to be jala runa, or foreigners literally the naked people, in
Quechuareferring to thefact that you could not read thestyleof dress of the
combatants and determine their village of origin. Also, villagers said that no
Peruvian would commit such atrocities on other Peruvians. Therefore, initially,
government ofcials, the armed forces and Quechua-speaking villagers thought
theviolenceoriginatedwithforeign intervention. Villagerssoonlearneddiffer-
entlyand, asthewar progressed, ShiningPathcombatantsandmilitarypatrolsthat
disguised themselves as insurgents, acommon practice, werecalled puriq runa,
thosewhowalk fromplacetoplace becausethey wereuprooted, lost; they had
no place to call home. Many ofcials and the military retained the belief that
ShiningPathwas aforeign-bornmovement evenafter theendof thewar, which
wasnot true.
Seor P.I.P. had put his nger on an important concept but what heevidently
didnt realize (nor did I) was that Shining Path was a home-grown insurgency,
inuenced by the Chinese Revolution and Maos teachings, which had found
fertile ground in the University of Huamanga in the city of Ayacucho and was
instilledintheschools of thePampas River valley as early as 1975. Theteachers
inChuschi, andother surroundingcommunities, weresupportersof ShiningPath,
preparingtheway for thewar that was to last almost twenty-veyears. After my
preening, prancinginterrogator wasthroughquestioningme, hetook my armand
propelledmeout ontoabalcony that overlookedtheplazawherethemestizoof-
cialsof theregionwerecongregated.AsI wasseatednexttothemayor, Seor P.I.P.
leaned forward and whispered: Wewill bewatching you. His menacing smile
gavemeaforebodingchill.
Themayor of Cangallogreetedmeaffablyandpointedtoabrandnewreddump
truck that was parked in front of themunicipal building. Hehanded measilver
bucket fromthechurchthat waslledwithholywater andthengavemethesilver
sprinkling wand. I was instructed to step forward and baptizethetruck with the
holywater. I thought, goodlord, nowImgodmother tothedumptruck, alongwith
soccer ballsandteamuniforms, abasketball courtandtengodchildren. Themayor
couldcall mecomadreandI was expectedto reciprocatewithcompadre. I won-
dered what favors he would expect: The most common type of requests from
22 Violence
compadres of godchildrenwas, Comadre, pleasetakeyour godchildto theU.S.
tobeeducated.For thedumptruck, itcouldbearequestfor newtires, or abattery.
What was important was to establish a relationship of mutual obligation, which
carrieswithit mutual respect, but not trust.
After the baptismI was led to the school where the traditional ofcials, the
varayoq and their families, were preparing food for the mestizo celebration.
Varayoq in Quechuarefers to thehierarchical organization of staff bearers, who
spendalifetimeservingtheir communitiesandwho, inrecent times, hadbecome
subordinated to the state-appointed mestizo bureaucrats. In this dual society,
spatial separationbyraceandclasswasobserved: theQuechua-speakingmembers
of the community identiable by their village-specic styles of dress, were
excludedfromsittingat thelongtables set upintheschool housefor thefestive
meal eventhoughtheyprovidedall theproductsandthelabor; theywererequired
toeat outside, squattingontheground. Aspart of their ritual obligation, thefam-
iliesof thevarayoqhadtoslaughter animals, makechicha, cornbeer andprepare
vast quantitiesof foodfromtheir ownstoredprovisionsfor thefestivities. Thelit-
erate, educatedbureaucrats reciprocatedby keepingrecords of birth, deaths, and
marriages and managing thetown budget with funds allocated fromthedepart-
ment capital. This reciprocal contract had been in placesincetheconquest. The
scenario of theestawas runningsmoothly, except for me: I was out of place. I
made a point to speak Quechua to the peasant women serving the food, with-
standingfrownsfromthewivesof thebureaucrats, but enjoyingthefurtivesmiles
of theQuechua-speakingwomen.
Theafternoonworeonintoeveningwithalot of speech-makingbythePrefect,
mayor andother townofcialsaccompaniedbyowerytoastswithcaseafter case
of beer purchasedbyindividual bureaucratsasdisplaysof liquidgenerosity. After
sunset, a string band arrived, made up of two violinists, a blind harpist and a
drummer who beganto play huaynos, thetypical songs of theAndes. Themayor
instructedtheindigenousauthoritiestomovethetablestomakeroomfor adance
oor. Thewivesof thebureaucratssat rigidlyinchairslinedalongthewall. When
they rose to dance, they had to smooth down their short, straight-cut skirts. I
caught aglimpseof theQuechuamenandwomendancingintheschoolyard. The
womenwerewhirlingkaleidoscopesof color: bright satinblouses, beautiful hand-
woven lliqllas, or shawls with designs specic to Cangallo that hung down their
backs, and their four or ve long, full, brightly colored shirts making dizzying
circlesof brillianthues. Their hats, festoonedwithowers, bobbedastheir rubber-
tiresandals stompedout therhythm. Men, slightly bent at thewaist, heads down
and with their hands behind their poncho-clad backs, answered the rhythm. I
admiredthetautmusclesworkinginthecalvesof themenwhoworethetraditional
black, to the knee, home-spun bayeta pants. Inside the schoolhouse, the high-
heeledwomenintight skirtsandsweatersandthemeninsuitsseemedwashedout
andfadedby comparison.
WrittenonMyBody 23
Astheeveningprogressedinsidetheschoolhouse, themencongregatedinsmall
groups and continued to drink. Repeatedly, someonewould stand in front of me
and say: Doctora, I saluteyou and pour meadrink that I had to chug-a-lug. I
was also required to dance every dance, the exhausting stomping dance of the
huayno. Whenaslowwaltzwasplayed, Seor P.I.P. cameforwardfor therst time
andpulledmeontothedanceoor. I resistedbecausehewasdrunk. Hepulledme
against his body, his headburiedinmy breast. Helookedupat meanddeclared
loudly: Gringa, youaregoingtoget toknowareal man tonight.Theshort, fat,
Prefect stumbled drunkenly onto the dance oor and shoved Seor P.I.P. in the
chest andshouted: Youson-of-a-bitch, thegringais minetonight! I brought her
here. Seor P.I.P. responded: Carajo demierda, no shes mine! Thetwo men
punchedat eachother andthenthemayor steppedinandtriedtograbmyarmand
pull meoff thedanceoor but thePrefect andSeor P.I.P. stoppedscufinglong
enoughfor eachof themto graboneof my arms. Themayor stoodby helplessly
as thetwo menpulledat me. I shoutedinSpanish: Why dont youtwo bastards
gofuckeachother andleavemealone!Thewomenseatedalongthewall covered
their mouthsinshock asthemenclungstubbornly ontomy arms. I felt panic rise
asI thought, J esus, I goingtobefuckedby sleazy bureaucrats.
Atthatprecisemomentassistancearrived, asif inawesternickwhentheposse
arrivestosavethedamsel indistress except that thispossedidnt thunder over a
hill onhorseback: they walkedover themountainfromChuschi. This possewas
ledbythealcaldevarayoqof Chuschi, thehighest indigenousvarayoqinthecom-
munity who was also my compadre as I had sponsored the baptismof his son,
whichis consideredthehighest degreeof compadrazgo. Unlikethemestizo con-
padres I had, hewas amanthat I heldinfondesteem: hewas arespectedritual
specialist, musicianandcurer whohadtaughtmesomuchabouthisculture. When
heheardthat I hadbeendrivenbythePrefect toCangallotobeinterrogatedbythe
PeruvianSecret Police, hehadcommandedfour of hissubordinatestoaccompany
himto Cangallo. They hadwalkedthreehours over themountainto cometo my
rescue.Associal order collapsedwhentheycrashedthemestizofestivities, stunned
silence fell inside and outside of the schoolhouse. Holding their staffs of ofce
outstretchedverticallyintheir righthandstosignifythattheywereonofcial busi-
ness, theystrodeontothedanceoor andsurroundedmetoformasecurityguard
in order to escort me out of the school. The Prefect and Seor P.I.P. were left
standingopen-mouthedinthemiddleof theroomasthebureaucrats wiveswhis-
pered to each other behind their hands. The gathered Quechua-speaking throng
buzzed as wepassed them. Theold social contract between indigenous subjects
andthestatehadbeenbroken.
We hurried away fromthe startled crowd and walked over the mountain to
Chuschi in silence. Thefull moon lighted thepath as though it werein thelate
afternoon. My knees were still shaking and we moved slowly up the mountain.
Upon arriving, news of the events had already reached the community. My
24 Violence
compadretook meto his housewherehis wifewas waiting. Shepreparedabed
for mewithanimal skins ontopof thepotato storagebin. I slept tfully andhad
nightmaresinwhichI wastornapart by angry menwithhuge, erect dicks.
The indigenous ofcials gathered in the alcalde varyoqs house the next
morningtodiscusswhattodonext. Theydebatedwhether tobringchargesagainst
the two men, but as one of them, the Prefect, was the highest authority in the
department of Ayacucho, that ideawasabandoned. Intheevening, adelegationof
teachers, who had told meafewdays beforethat they could not speak to mein
public, cameto talk to meabout theevents in Cangallo. If I had known what I
knownowI wouldhavebeenabletointerpret their wordsandactionsmoreaccu-
rately. Theytalkedabout thecorrupt Prefect andtheP.I.P. ofcial andhowoneday
they would be brought to account. As the war developed, Shining Path brought
many ofcials, somecorrupt andsomenot, to account by holdingpublic trials
andexecutions. Thedirector of schools, whoalsoheldthepostof municipal mayor
of the community with whomI had the long-running battle of telegrams was
notably absent fromthedelegationof teachers.
In an act of vengeance for extricating me fromCangallo, my adversary, the
municipal mayor of Chuschi, abusedhispower bydestroyingmycompadres birth
andmarriagedocuments as well as thoseof his family members, whichrendered
his entirefamily nonexistent in theeyes of thestate. This meant they could not
travel outside of Chuschi. I had to work very hard in Lima to get their records
restoredor theywouldhavebeeningravedanger without theproper documentsas
thewar developed. Identicationpapers, usually birthcerticates, wereregularly
checkedandanyonewithoutthemwouldhavebeenheldonsuspicionof terrorism.
WhenShiningPathgainedfull control of theregionafter 1980, themunicipal
mayor edtoLimawherehecouldmelt intothemassesof refugeesescapingthe
violenceintheDepartmentof Ayacucho. Hehadreceivedformal noticationfrom
ShiningPaththat they weregoingto bringhimto justicefor stealingfunds from
thecommunity andtheschoolsandfor rapingthefteen-year-oldindigenousgirl
who had come to Chuschi to enroll in school. The community had supported
ShiningPathinthisaction.
Peru, 1986:ViolenceBecomesInscribedonMyBody
G Abstractedfromthe2003TruthandReconciliationReport
G Anestimated69,280deathsoccurredbetween1980and2000(statisticsput the
deathtoll somewherebetween61,700and77,552).
G Thirty-twothousandvictimsarenamedandtheir casesdetailed.
G ShiningPathcaused54per cent of all deaths.
G Thearmedforcescaused30per cent.
G TupacAmaru, anurbanbasedrevolutionary movement, caused2per cent
WrittenonMyBody 25
G Theremaining14per cent werecausedby government-backedpeasant militia
(rondascampesinas).
G Eighty-veper cent of thedeaths occurredinthedepartment of Ayacucho and
four out of veof thevictimswerenativespeakersof Quechua.
G Four thousand mass graves have been recorded and the commission recom-
mendedexhumations.
Shining Path intensied thearmed strugglein theinitial years after announcing
their war in 1980; mestizo shop keepers ed and teachers and bureaucrats were
replacedby loyal ShiningPathmembers. Insurgents controlledtheRiver Pampas
region and many other parts of theDepartment of Ayacucho. ThePeruvian state
declaredmartial lawandintensiedthewar by bringinginforces fromthearmy
andnavythat didnot speakQuechua, fearingthatQuechua-speakingtroopswould
identifywiththeinsurgency. Casualties, especiallydisappearancesandmassacres,
wereheaviest inthethreeyearsbetween1983and1985andI foundmyself strug-
glingwiththedilemmaof what to report andpublish. Wouldpublishingvictims
names render their families vulnerableto attacks fromeither side? What actions
could I take to minimize the violence against the people I had worked with for
nineteenyears? By 1986I couldnt enter theRiver PampasValley whereChuschi
is located. Refugees were eeing both the armed forces and the insurgents by
drovesandsettlingincampsinLima. I interviewedrefugeesanddocumentedmas-
sacresat thehandsof thearmedforcesandreportedontheeventsinacademicset-
tings.
During one such presentation at the American Anthropological Association
meeting in 1986 in an enormous ballroom with crystal chandeliers twinkling
aboveacoupleof hundredpeopleintheaudience, I feltvertigoduringmytalkand
had to hold onto thepodium. After my presentation, oneof my colleagues lled
mewithdisgust whenheasked: Well, BillieJ ean, howdoyoureally knowthese
things happened? You werenot thereso you didnt witness them. They areonly
reports by people in Lima. My answer was: Arent you taking ethnographic
authoritytoofar? Thosepeople inLimaaresurvivorsof massacresandtorture.
My presentation hadbeen basedon clandestineinterviews I hadconductedwith
womeninaCatholic safehouseinLima.
One of those women, Guadalupe, whomI had known since she was a child,
became a leader of the organization that formed in the city of Ayacucho in the
early 1980s called, The Families of the Disappeared, Detained and Kidnapped.
They became the backbone of the peace movement in Ayacucho. Their work
includedlegal petitioningandsearchingfor thedisappearedanddetainedbut also
relief work such as organizing soup kitchens for refugees fromthe countryside
with funds from Catholic relief and maintaining a house that served as an
orphanagefor childrenwhoseparentshadbeendetainedor disappeared. Theyalso
worked with International Human Rights lawyers to demand evidence of the
26 Violence
whereaboutsof their missingrelatives. They arestill activeinseekingjusticeand
havetestiedbeforetheTruthandReconciliationCommission.
In1986, Guadalupewent tothemilitarygarrisoninAyacuchotopresent apeti-
tiondemandingawrit of habeascorpusfor thecasesof thedisappearancesof her
brother andhusbandwhoweresnatchedin1983fromtheir bedsby hoodedmili-
tarySpecial ForcescalledSinchis, aQuechuawordmeaningercewarriors. She
was taken into custody in Ayacucho, tortured with the water treatment a
favorite formof interrogation that involves forcing the head of a victimunder
water repeatedly. It leaves no bodily trace afterward. FromAyacucho she was
transferred to El Frontn prison in Limaand during her threemonths in prison,
President Alan Garca, who was reelected in J uneof 2006 after sixteen years in
exile, orderedthemilitary toquell coordinateddemonstrations inLimas prisons.
Over 300 prisoners were shot after they surrendered in El Frontn as they lay
proneontheoor. GuadalupesurvivedandwastransferredtoLuriganchoPrison.
Amnesty International gainedher releaseandI interviewedher shortly thereafter
inaCatholic safehouseinLima. SheedtoChilewherethedioceseof Santiago
provided safe haven for Peruvians, but in 1990, against everyones advice, she
returnedtoAyacucho to voteinthepresidential election. Tendays after theelec-
tionshewasdraggedfrombedat night by hoodedmenandtakenbarefoot andin
her nightgowntotheP.I.P. headquarters for interrogation. Her childrenwitnessed
theabduction: shewasnever seenagain.
Eventsbecamesurreal in1986, culminatingwithamemorableAmericanAnthro-
pological Association presentation after which I cancelled my membership and
insteadworkedwithAmnestyInternational andPeruvianhumanrightsorganizations
tofreepeasant leadersfromjail whowereheldwithout beingformally chargedfor
terrorism. If weweresuccessful innegotiatingtheir release, wehadtopayfor bullets
expendedineachpersonscapture. Another memorableevent that standsout inmy
mind was when I interviewed members of the U.S. embassy in Lima that year.
Duringonesuchinterview, theU.S. informationofcer leftmealoneinaroomwith
telegrams infront of meonadesk obviously wantingmeto seethem. They were
interceptedmessages to andfromhumanrights organizations aroundtheworldto
human rights organizations in Peru. When he returned after about ten minutes, I
askedhimaboutthetelegramsandhereplied: Wearejustmonitoringthesituation.
Webelievethat themainhumanrights organizationinPeruhas ShiningPathcon-
nections.Horried, I toldhimthatmakingsuchaccusationscouldgethumanrights
peoplekilledbydeathsquads. Hegavemeanindifferent sowhat look. Through
thoseinterviewsI learnedthattherewasdisagreementaboutShiningPathamongthe
embassypersonnel. SomeagreedwiththePeruvianmilitarythattheinsurgencywas
nancedandledbyforeigners; othersbelievedthat it wasahome-grownmovement
that began in the university of the poorest department of Peru in the city of
Ayacucho. Thelatter turned out to betrue. Theofcial policy was to support the
Peruviangovernment inits counter-terrorismefforts andacoupleof theEmbassy
WrittenonMyBody 27
staff had counterterrorism experience in Afghanistan and in Honduras. The
unspokenpolicywastoturnablindeyetothemountinghumanrightsabuses, which
at least oneofcial lamented.
After particularly stressful sessions of interviewing refugees of violencefrom
Ayacucho, I decidedto go to Cuzco withtwo friends, onefromtheU.S. andone
fromFrance. WhentheyarrivedinLima, I took themtothecentral plazaof Lima
toseethesights: thecathedral, historicbuildingsandgovernmental palacebut the
plazawascordonedoff by military personnel instormtrooper gear. I approached
oneof theguardsandaskedhowlongtheplazawouldbeoff limitsbut beforehe
could answer, a plain-clothed policeman was beside me and told me he was in
chargeof securityandthat theplazawouldbeopenedinabout anhour. Webegan
to chat and it turned out that hehad been thebody guard for thejudgethat had
takenhumanrightscomplaintsinAyacucho. I wasdeterminedtointerviewhimso
we made arrangements to meet in a caf on the corner of the plaza. I felt safe
because I had my two companions with me. We met and sat in a booth: I was
against thewall withthepolicemannext tomeandmytwonon-Spanish-speaking
companions across fromus. I shuddered when the policeman, an attractive, tall
maninhis early forties, toldmehewas anofcer withtheP.I.P. At onepoint in
our conversationafter acoupleof roundsof beers, heunexpectedly took my right
handandpulledit aroundhiswaist andplacedit onthebutt of hisguninaholster
at thecenter of his back. Thenhereachedacross my body andtook my left hand
andplacedit inhiscrotch: I realizedthat hehadahardon!
I felt as though I had touched ahot stoveand I immediately jerked my hands
away. Findingmycomposure, I lookedat mycompanionsandsaid: Well, I guess
I couldshoot hishard-onoff, couldnt I?Theylaughednervouslyandoneasked:
Arewedoinganthropologynow?Thetactilememoryof thedirectdisplayof sex
andpower his penis andhis gun overcomes meevery timeI think of howthe
Peruvian armed forces used rape as a display of power that left thousands of
womeninthehighlandsof Ayacuchowithvariousformsof embodiedtrauma. My
formof traumaisminor bycomparison: I feel myleft handburningfromtouching
his hard-on and my right hand tingling from touching the cold pistol. Their
traumas are more serious: alcoholism, depression and spontaneous abortions
relived over and over; the inability to nurse their children because they believe
their memoriescanbecarriedtotheir babiesintheir milk, whichwouldcausetheir
babiestogrowupwiththeimagesandashbacksof their mothers rapes.
It took ussomeeffort toextricateourselvesfromthecafandweedtheplaza
in a cab. What I didnt realize was that Seor Hard-On had a man follow us to
where I had rented an apartment froma colleague. For the next week we were
under P.I.P. surveillance. Somehow, he managed to get my colleagues phone
number andcalledmedaily. I hadbeenconductinginterviews withvictims who
hadedAyacuchoandwiththisaddedstressI developedbronchitis. Seor Hard-
Ongavemetheaddressof hisgarrisonandhisphonenumber. I consultedwitha
28 Violence
Peruvian male friend who advised me to write hima letter and tell himthat a
family member had died and that I had to rush to the U.S. but my friend also
advisedmetoemphasizethat I wasgoingtoreturnassoonaspossibleandthat I
wouldget intouchwithhim.
My friends and I rushed to Cuzco where I collapsed with pulmonary edema,
sorroche, or highaltitudesickness, whichquickly developedintocerebral edema.
Pulmonaryedemaistheconditionwhenthelungsarellingwithuidcausingdif-
culty in breathing, headaches and nosebleeds. As I worsened, I felt like I was
drowning and I began to turn blue. Cerebral edema involves uid in the brain
causinghallucinations andcanbefatal insevenor eight hours. My friends andI
had stupidly helped push ataxi that had broken down on theway to thecity of
Cuzcofromtheairport andmyweakenedlungcapacitywithbronchitiskickedoff
thepulmonary edema. My friendswerene. WithinhoursI wasclosetodeath.
Duringmyepisodewithcerebral edema, I experiencedthemost incrediblehal-
lucinationinthepensionwehadcheckedinto, whichhadbeentheHouseof the
ChosenWomen, theAcllaWasi, under Incarulewhowerepriestessesof theMoon
Goddess, thewifeof theSunGod. Thewallswereenormouscut stonesandwhen
I passedout oneof thestoneblocksopenedandI fell throughaspiral passageinto
theunderworldandlandedat Pachamamasfeet. PachamamaistheEarthMother,
theprincipal deity responsiblefor growthof crops andwellbeingof theearth. In
my hallucination, she was huge with vegetable tubers, such as potatoes, ulluco,
mashua, andother root cropsgrowingout of her body. SheturnedandI couldsee
that shehad two faces, a benevolent oneon thesidewheretheroot crops were
locatedaswell asamalevolentonewithaskull, thefox, andtheamaru, her under-
worldsnakecompanion, ontheother side. Onthesideof growthandsustenance,
ababy llamanestledat her feet. Shehadonthemost sumptuous unku, thecere-
monial Incagarment, madeof shimmering gold and silver threads. I shaded my
eyesfromthebrillianceandsawthat inthewarpandweft of thegarment shand
other aquatic lifeswam.
Suddenly, Pachamama looked at me and asked in Quechua: What are you
doinghere?Youdont belonghere! I meeklyanswered: I knowandI dont want
tobehereeither. Shetookadeepbreathandblewmeuptothesurfaceonaspiral
of water. WhenI landedI gainedconsciousnessandsawthefacesof mytwotrav-
elingcompanions who hadreturnedwithagraduatestudent of minefromatour
of thecity. Thestudent andher husbandtook onelook at meandknewthat I had
aserious caseof altitudesickness: my skinandlips wereblue, my breathingwas
laboredandI kept goinginandout of consciousness. Thank godthat thestudent
andher husbandknewenoughtorushmetotheairport andarguewithAir Peruto
transport metoLimaor I wouldhavedied. Whenwearrivedat theairport, I col-
lapsed again and went into convulsions. My companions acted quickly and had
attendantsgivemeoxygen. WhenI gainedconsciousness, I lookeduptoseearing
of gringa faces looking at me; they werestudents fromawomens collegeon a
WrittenonMyBody 29
studytripledbyaformer graduatestudent fromCornell. Oneof studentspointed
downat meandsaid: YoumeanthatsBillieJ eanIsbell, theauthor of theethnog-
raphy that wearereading for this trip? I was told later that I looked at her and
said: Holy shit! Youcoulddieandnot evenknowit. WhenI arrivedinLima, I
washospitalizedwithpneumonia.
When I returned to the U.S. in 1986 I was very ill, discouraged and deeply
shaken. Shortly after my return, I was hospitalized with alesion in my throat. It
was alesionthat wouldnot heal andwhenabiopsy was performed, it turnedout
to beabenigngrowth. But thegrowthpuzzledthedoctors. Why didnt it heal? I
was puzzled as well. Is it possible that the growth was a manifestation of my
inabilitytodeal withtheresearchmaterials? I hadreturnedwithover onehundred
hoursof tapedinterviewswithvictimsinLimaaswell astapesof interviewsfrom
thezonesof violenceinAyacuchoconductedbytheHumanRightscommissionof
thePeruvian Congress. Facilitatingtheir work with my research funds, thecom-
mission, formed (but not funded) by the government could nally interview
victims of violenceinvarious zones of Ayacucho. They providedmewithcopies
of theinterviewsandafriendfromtheAmericanembassyallowedmetosendthe
tapes in theU.S. embassy mail pouch. However, I was stymied by thedilemma
over what couldberevealedandwhat hadto bekept secret. Nevertheless, I used
theremainder of mygrant tohavethetapestranslatedandtranscribedandwrotea
proposal to the Woodrow Wilson Center for a residential fellowship in
Washington, D.C., which I was awarded for six months in 1986 to work on the
interviewmaterial.
At theWoodrowWilsonCenter I participatedinapanel discussiononthesit-
uationinPeruinMay of 1986. Thenext day, onthe19May, anewspaper article
appearedinExtra, thepopulist paper inLima, withheadlinesthat read: Abimael
diedatthebeginningof theviolencerevealsNorthAmericananthropologist.The
bulletedsecondheadlinedeclaresBillieJ eanIsbell hascontact withtheleaders
of SenderoLuminoso (ShiningPath). Thepiecestatesthat I reportedat thenews
conferenceat theWilson Center that through interviews with theleaders of the
Shining Path movement that began the dirty war I learned that Abimael
Guzmn, their leader andphilosopher-king, diedearly intheconict. Moreover,
thearticlegoesontosay that I comparedShiningPathtoPol Pot. I wasstunned.
I hadnot saidanythingthat couldhaveremotelybeeninterpretedassuchastate-
ment. Richard M. Morse, thedirector of theWilson Center and I both wroteto
Extra and to El Comercio and demanded aretraction, which was printed on 30
May.
I later foundout that thearticlehadbeenplantedasdisinformation, probablyby
theC.I.A., by usingastringer areporter without abylinefromPeruwhowas
known to have worked for the C.I.A. This event further eroded my resolve to
publishtheinterviewmaterial. HowcouldI besurethey wouldnot bemisused?
Instead, I startedworkingonanovel, ctionalizingtheinterviewmaterial.
30 Violence
During the latter part of my fellowship, I received a visit from the newly
appointed director of U.S. Information Services (U.S.I.S.) for the embassy in
Lima. Hewas astocky, muscular blondinhis latethirties withabrushcut. As I
was inmy lateforties andaprofessor, hetreatedmewithdeferenceandrespect.
Wechattedfor awhile: Hesaidhewas tryingto preparehimself for his newjob
andaskedabout conditions inAyacucho andI saidas littleas possible, weighing
every wordandavoidingspecic names, events andespecially any references to
humanrightswork. I wasafraidthat anythingI saidcouldbeusedagainfor disin-
formation or put peoples lives in danger. I remembered interviewing his prede-
cessor, theU.S.I.S. ofcer wholeft thetelegramsout for metosee.
Perhaps frustratedby howour conversationwas going, hepulledout aleand
commentedthat I hadbeenborninUtah. Thenhesaidthat hewas fromUtahas
well. Heaskedif I wasmember of TheChurchof Latter DaySaints(Mormon) and
I answeredno. Hethencommentedthat hewasamember. Finally, asI wasgetting
tired of our cat and mousegame, I said that it was rumored that thedirector of
U.S.I.S. was always the C.I.A. contact in the embassy and gave hima knowing
smile. Heremainedabsolutelycalmandsimplyresponded: Well, itdoesntmatter
whichpositionweplay, wereall onthesameteam, arent we? Hethenaskedme
if I couldwritereports for himonthesituationinPeruandI shook my headand
declined, saying: No, I dont play sports.
After thefellowshipat theWilsonCenter, I was invitedto thecoledes Haute
tude in Paris for six months but I was worried because I had made so little
progressontheinterviewsexcept tooutlinechaptersof anovel. I wasdetermined
towork onthemandwhentheexecutivesecretary of theWilsonCenter offeredto
pack upandshipmy research materials, I, of course, accepted. Shesaidit was a
servicethey offeredto all fellows. To my horror, whenmy boxes arrivedinParis,
theyhadbeenriedandthetapeshadbeengarbled. MyFrenchcolleagueswereas
alarmed as I was. Luckily, I had sent themaster tapes to Cornell along with the
master list identifying theindividuals on therecordings. I gavenumerous public
lectureswhileI wasinEuropeandoftenShiningPathsupporterswouldattendand
heckleme. I remember oneyoungmansaidthat I didnt differentiatewho caused
theciviliancasualties. Heclaimedthat thearmedforceshadkilledanddisappeared
civilians but Shining Path had not. Actually, I was of thesameopinion but years
later wewouldlearnfromtheTruthCommissionthat ShiningPathwasresponsible
for 54per cent of civiliancasualtiesandthearmedforcesfor 30per cent.
Duringmyoneyear of fellowshipsI wroteonlyonearticleandeventhenI could
not bringmyself to quotedirectly fromthevast set of interviews I hadcollected
fromvictims. They hung around my neck like a heavy evil amulet. In 1987 I
returnedtoCornell anddevelopedasecondmysteriouslesionthat wouldnot heal;
thistimeit wasontheleft sideof my tongueandhadtobeexcised. Againit was
benignbut puzzling: thesurgery removedalargesegment of my tongueandleft
mespeechless for months. But nevertheless, I attemptedto work withthecorpus
WrittenonMyBody 31
of interviews. I couldnot abandonthosevoicesdescribingtheviolenceinPeru. I
hadbecomeobsessedwiththem. After manyfailuresat academicwriting, I nally
shapedtheinterviewsintoadrama, PublicSecretsfromPeru, andI presentedit at
several universities around the country along with the Quilt of theDisappeared
fromPeru, aquiltmadeinPerumodeledafter theAIDSquiltwithnamesanddates
of victims of massacres anddisappearances. Eachperformancetook aheavy toll
onmyhealthandemotional well beingbut I hadnallyfoundapathof expression
throughpoesies, my play andanincompletenovel.
Still, I couldnot solvemy dilemmaof what wassafetoreveal. Thisparalyzing
fear that hadbeenwithmefor almost tenyearswasconrmedin1992whenfour
elected ofcials, mayors from Chuschi and three surrounding villages, were
forcibly disappeared by a Peruvian National Guard ofcer who had recently
takencommandof thenewlyestablishedpost inChuschi. Thefour villagemayors
hadrefusedtoformthegovernment sanctionedcivil patrolsthat wererequiredby
thearmedforcestosearchfor ShiningPath. Later, wewouldlearnthat they were
responsible for 14 per cent of the civilian fatalities according to theTruth and
Reconciliation Commission. Witnesses told me that the National Guard com-
mander screamed, I will disappear thelot of you! at themayorsinareunionhe
calledintheplazaof Chuschi: Hekept hisword. After thedisappearances, adel-
egationfromChuschi traveledto Limato theAmericanEmbassy anddemanded
to see the ambassador. They wanted to deliver a demand: stop all aid to Peru
because the U.S. has a law that aid will be suspended to countries that abuse
humanrights. Our rights havebeenabused, they said. Of course, they werenot
allowedtodeliver their demandtotheambassador. I askedtheambassador later if
hebeeninformedof their visit andhesaidnothat hehadnot. Thecommander of
theNational GuardPost inChuschi waspromotedandtransferredbut not charged
withthedisappearances.
In1992Guzmnwascapturedandtheinsurgencybegantofall apart. I thought
it was nowsafeto travel to thehighlands of Ayacucho. I returned and collected
protest songs and art that were visual representations of the horrors of the war
depicted as three-dimensional scenes called retablos and arpilleras. The protest
songs wereironic dialogs withthestate. I workedonthesematerials andin1997
submittedanarticleto thejournal, TheAmericanAnthropologist. Another lesion
onmy tongueappearedthat wouldnt heal resultinginanother surgery, another
autopsy, another mystery. The article was published in 1998 after I recuperated
frommy surgery, whichrenderedmespeechless for atimeyet again. Duringthe
1990s, as I traveledwithmy dramaandtheQuilt of theDisappeared, workedon
thecorpus of protest art andmusic, attemptedto address thenowtranslatedand
transcribedbox of interviews, eachpresentationthat I gavewas accompaniedby
melancholia, crying and physical pain. My rheumatoid arthritis worsened caus-
ingaseriesof falls: I brokemyleg, fracturedtherst lumbar vertebraanddisloc-
ated my shoulder. The two vertebrae below the fractured one twisted causing a
32 Violence
curvatureof thespine. I literally shrank four inches. Thesefalls drovemenally
toanorthopedicsurgeonandI hadtwokneereplacements. Duringthat decade, as
I spent moreandmoretimewithdoctors, I startedtorealizethat thelesionsonmy
tongue, therheumatoidpaininmy joints, thefallsthat resultedinfractures, were
embodiedviolencewrittenonmy body, whichI couldnot ndexpressionfor on
thewrittenpage.
Inspiteof thisrealization, I couldnotabandonthefocusonviolenceinPeruthat
I had been obsessed with for so many years. I continued to search for away to
write about what I had seen and heard. Those traumatic events seemto have
becomepart of my body. Perhaps thememories wereinscribedonmy bones and
ligaments as arthritis deformedthem. Perhaps they weretryingto speak through
my tonguethat developedlesions. I continuedto work sporadically on my novel
and I developed courses on human rights that expanded my focus on violence
aroundtheworldbutI foundthatI still couldnotlistentothevoicesthatI recorded
inthemid1980s. I couldnotrepresentthemastestimonial literature, thegenrethat
becameso commoninthe1990s. So, why didI persist? I couldnot abandonthe
focusonviolenceeventhoughI couldnot writeabout it effectively. PerhapsI felt
somehowguilty andresponsible. TimeandagainI felt at animpasse. I couldnot
move beyond the experiences, the memories, even though my body was com-
plainingtomeunambiguouslyandeventhoughI wasnot writingabout them. The
memoriesandexperienceswerewritingonme.
When I returned to Chuschi in 2002, my favorite comadre, the wife of the
alcaldevaraoq, whosavedmefromrapeinCangalloin1975asked: Whydidyou
abandon us? During the1980s, I had not written to themout of fear of putting
themindanger, whileat thesametime, inall theseyears, I hadfelt guiltyabout it.
Now, I realizedthatI hadbeenaccompanyingthedeadandnottheliving. Mycom-
padres, and many other survivors weremoving on with their lives, perhaps with
theexceptionof thevictims of rapeandthefamilies of thedisappearedwho are
searching for justiceand closure. I also realized that just as I had embodied the
experiences I had recorded that were written on my esh and on my bones,
Quechua-speaking women embodied their experiences and memories as liquids
that circulatethrough their bodies. As I mentioned above, they believethat their
traumatic memories of thewar aretransmitted to their infants in mothers milk.
Therefore, they donot nursethem.
Oneof thetreatmentsthat I sought wascranial-sacral adjustmentsfromaphys-
ical therapist involvingmassageandmanipulation. After thetreatments, or some-
timesevenduringthetreatments, I wouldexperiencememoriesof violence: voices
of my ghost victims would return to meand I would cry helplessly. My dreams
werealsovividafter treatments. Thetherapist toldmethat thesurfacingof mem-
orieswasvery common. My healthslowly improvedbut I realizedthat I wassuf-
fering fromcompassion fatigue and I had to nd closure on this chapter of my
personal andprofessional life. Withagrant fromtheCornell Library, I wasableto
WrittenonMyBody 33
putmyworkinChuschi online, including1,500photosandtheplay, PublicSecrets
fromPeru (http://isbellandes.library.cornell.edu/). I have also donated my entire
professional library to the Department of Anthropology of the University of
Huamanga in Ayacucho, which was under the power and control of Abimael
Guzmnduringthewar. Today, I havenally closedthechapter onviolenceand
purged my emotions by writing a novel: Finding Cholita, University of Illinois
Press. I workedmost intensively onit duringthecranial sacral treatments. I am
nowworkinginthenorthof Peruontopicslledwithhopefor thefuture biodi-
versity, conservationof seed, water managementwiththepeopleof Vicoswhopar-
ticipateintheglobal SlowFoodMovement aimedat deindustralizingagriculture
andfoodproduction. That work, alongwiththehistoryof appliedanthropologyin
Vicos, canbeseenat http://instruct1.cit.cornell.edu/courses/vicosperu/vicos-site/,
accessed5December 2008.
My work onviolenceis not actively beinginscribedonmy body any morebut
thescars and pain remain. Moreover, theboxes of interviews with thevoices of
victims of thewar in Peru remain largely untouched after twenty-veyears. Ill
probably deposit them in Cornells manuscript and archive library for future
researcherstoworkon. Hopefullyfutureresearcherswill havemoreemotional dis-
tancefromthematerials and morebodily stamina to focus on thevoices of the
dead.
34 Violence
2
Bandh inAhmedabad
Onthemorningof 28February2002, B.
1
droppedmeoff inthemiddleof Shubash
ChandraBosebridge aneutral spaceseparatingtwo halves of acity stretching
over thedry Sabarmati river bed. Wehad just spent sometimewith his boss at
Ambedkar University, drinking tea and discussing riots between Hindus and
Muslims, whichwereexpectedthat day. Initially, I hadcometoAhmedabadtodo
eldworkonthepeculiarlyIndiandoctrineof ahimsa, non-violence, madefamous
by Mahatma Gandhi in his ght against British colonialism. But instead I was
caught witnessing a pogrom: the type of violence that ahimsa is supposed to
address. Determinedtocapturethemomentthatcommunal violencecomesintoits
own, today I wastowitnessacity that wascompletely outsideof itself.
B. did not want to accompany me any further. He turned around and drove
home. I also initially turned around and went back onto thewest shorewalking
carefully south to Mahatma Gandhi bridge an area I was more familiar with.
Gandhi made me feel safer than Bose. I walked alone over the bridge into the
Shahpur district, what residentscall asensitivearea. Withinafewcity blocks, I
wasinthemiddleof peculiar scenesfor whichI wasunprepared. I quicklypassed
one, thentwo, thenthree, thenfour cars upended, set onre, vigorously burning.
Shopswereransackedandthestreet wasfull of dust andsmoke. Ononecorner, in
thesafetyof thecharredruinsof awhiteAmbassador car, twopolicemensat ona
metal case, probably abox for colddrinks. Facingthebridgewiththeir backs to
therampagebehindthem, they weresmokinginsilence. About twenty-vecows,
largefor acluster of cows, lingeredaroundthemandthepolicemenseemedintent
onguardingthem. They ignoredme.
A dayearlier, twobogiesof anovercrowdedtrain, theSabarmati Express, full of
Hindu pilgrims on their way back from the temple town of Ayodhya in Uttar
Pradesh mysteriously caught reafter askirmish between Hindu passengers and
Muslimstationvendorsinthesmall townof GodhrainGujarat. Intherefty-nine
35
passengers were killed. For the following day, Hindu organizations declared a
bandh (closure, standstill), which was seconded by the Gujarat government and
supportedby all relevant political parties andorganizations, includingtheopposi-
tionparty. Subsequently, thelargelypoor andembattledminorityMuslimcommu-
nity became the object of collective ire in a statewide anti-Muslim pogrom.
PoliticiansandsomenewspapersinatedtheGodhraincident intoacollectiveact
of terrorism, supposedly executedby local Gujarati Muslims inconnivancewith
Pakistani intelligence and demanded immediate retaliation. The so-called reac-
tion (pratikriya) to what is now termed the Godhra massacre (Godhra
hatyakand) wasenforcedonthestreetbyyouthswithorangeheadbands.Theyoung
men positioned themselves strategically all over the city on street corners pre-
ventingresidentstogotoworkwhileschoolsandshopswerecoercedtocloseunder
thethreat of violence. It wasthenthat thecitywastotakeitsdeepplunge.
Ahmedabadisthelargestcityinthestateof Gujarat astateassociatedwiththe
birthplaceof Gandhi in Porbandar. Areas andlocalities in which communal vio-
lencebetweenHindusandMuslimsislikely toerupt receivedesignationssuchas
sensitivearea. Everyresident of thecitycarriesinhisheadaprecisegeography
of risk, knowsabout street cornersandneighborhoods, thenumerical relationship
between minority and majority, as well as theresulting local modalities of their
interaction. Intimesof tensionandconict it wouldbefoolishtoignorethefault
linesthat structuretheintimacy betweencommunities. Asaforeigner, I wasrela-
tively safebecauseI was not part of this intimacy and remained external to the
conict afact that I cameto exploit unwittingly as an ethnographer. For most
locals moving through these spaces, even if uninvolved ideologically, never
cancels the risks of being classied as Hindu or Muslim respectively. Thus
therealwaysremainsthedanger of becomingthemediumandobjectof communal
communication, something to be consumed: smashed, killed, and destroyed. In
timesof communal effervescencethephysical body becomesthesiteof asacri-
cial possibility whose destruction communicates complete sovereignty over the
victimcommunity. Makingtheother theobject of onesownenjoyment isdesired
whilethereversesimultaneouslyfeared. Onthestreetsof Ahmedabad, youngmen
wereconvincedthatMuslimsinGodhrahadusedHindugirlsfor enjoi, asynonym
for rapeandmutilation(derivedfromtheEnglishwordenjoy). Atthesametime,
they took part insuchactsasspectatorsandnarratedwhat they hadseenor heard
withunselfconsciousfascinationparticipatinginthespectacleof violenceall over
again.
Sensitivecityspacesareof twokind: theso-calledmixedareas whereHindus
andMuslims actually sharephysical space, livingintimately amongoneanother,
usingthesameshops, drivingthroughthesamelanes, anddailyrubbingshoulders.
The second kind of sensitive areas are those where a predominantly Hindu
area is immediately adjacent to a predominantly Muslimarea, a segregation
that isusuallyproduct of former boutsof violence. Here, onesideof thestreet can
36 Violence
spatiallyconfront theother, aHindustreet corner aMuslimstreet corner, forming
somethinglikeatensenerveendinginacomplex city body. All residents of the
city knowtheseborder areas, thenooks andseams of thecity, quitewell. Now,
inanticipationof communal violence, amixedarea caneasily transformintoa
border area, as members of therespectiveresidential minority chooseto move
temporarily toasafer location.
I walked further up the road. People were on a rampage against all cars and
scooters. Men ran back and forth. I saw no Muslims, and in this sense I was
remindedof thenewcityinthewest, thebetter half of thecity, whereI hadmyres-
idence. Muslims, who makeupalargepart of thepopulationof theEasterncity,
haddisappearedout of sight, intoareas wherethey wereinthemajority andthus
safe. Whatwasyesterdayamixedareahadnowbecomeaborder area.A mini-
Pakistanimmediatelyadjacent toaHindustan, aslocalsexplained. Thecows, too,
had gathered, or wereherded, into safecorners and werebeing guarded. Further
aheadacrowdtriumphantlyattackedanunoccupiedcar. Another car hadbeensuc-
cessfully mastered, turned over, thetires brightly aamein ajolly re. Running
feet, burningcarsandscooters, jubilant noises. Smokeanddust engulfedme.
I passed a paan shop, supposedly closed but surrounded by many onlookers
who watched theevents in aseemingly relaxedmanner. Theshutters weredown
but the shop did offer paan, betel leaf rolls with areca nut, and cigarettes for a
higher thanusual price, atypical conductduringcurfewinthecity. Thehigher risk
for theshopowner tosell goodsdespitetheimposedbandhtranslatesintohigher
prices for the customer. People gathered around chewing juicy paan, spat and
watched. A manwho seemedto betheshopowner wavedat meandgreetedme
withasmile. Astheylookedat mepeoplewiggledtheir headsinthetypical afr-
mative unison. They talked about me but I did not understand what they were
saying. I wasafraidtodrawtoomuchattentionbut I wiggledback. I noticedtomy
right agroupof about tenpolicemenwithwater jugs, their riesleisurely leaning
against abrick wall. Somestood, otherssat onblueplasticgardenchairsunder an
opentent that protectsthemfromtheblazingsun. They silently watchedthecar-
killers, about 50100 youngsters acting out their infantile aggressions. I posi-
tioned myself next to thepolice, just to besafe. Children brought instruments
stones, bricks, plates and iron rods for theadolescents who wererioting. One
policeman looked intently at mebut remained completely silent. Perhaps hefelt
ashamed. I amoftenaddressed, but thistimethey saidnothingtome.
Thelast car still alivewas ipped over and set on re, detonating anoiseless
explosionandashort panic inthecrowd. About twenty youths suddenly scurried
awayfromtheupendedcar andaburningliquidseepingfromthecar quicklyfol-
lowedthem. Thelower pantslegof oneyouthcaught reandhetried, rst calmly
but increasinglyfrantic, toput out thedancingameswhilemovingawayfromthe
car. People around himtried to help put out the re, and ultimately succeeded,
though I could see that his lower leg was badly burned. Large light red spots
BandhinAhmedabad 37
speckledthetanskinof hisleg. Helimpedaway, andsomepeoplewent withhim.
Thepolicemenbegandiscussingwhat wehadjust seen. They commentedonthe
fact that thecar caught rein an unexpectedly strong explosion. How foolish it
was, theysaid, for untrainedpeopletolight thetankof acar without knowinghow
muchfuel wasinit.
Inabuildingnearby, people, what seemedtobechildren, werethrowingstones
onanother building. No onestoppedthem. I wantedtocross thestreet andmove
closer tothebuildingsfromwhichstoneswerethrown, butpeoplestartedshouting
at meassoonasI approachedthestreet. Their attentiontook meby surprise, asI
thought I wassuccessfully submergedintotheother spectatorsinthecrowd. One
young man wearing along redT-shirt with ametal rod in his hand immediately
movedtowardsme. Hesaid, almost politely, Youbetter go, gesticulatingtowards
Gandhi Bridge. It wasclear that hedidnot think I belongedhere. I triedtorejoin
the policemen, who still just stared in absolute silence. Strange policemen, I
thought, asthey didnot eventell metoleave.
Finally a middle-aged, clean-shaven and well-dressed civilian man appeared,
holding a cell phone. He acted with authority and, speaking only Hindi, unam-
biguously orderedmetoleave. Hisdemeanor andclothingmademethink that he
is denitely as out of place in this part of the city as I was. He shouted to the
youngsterstoleadmeaway but I indicatedIdrather leavealone. Tomy surprise,
the rioting youths were more polite than he was, and they fortunately did not
accompanyme. I passedthepeopleatthepanshop, whoagainsmiledandwiggled
their heads. Saruchhene? (Itsgreat, isnt it?) I circledback andturnedaround
theleft corner, passingthetwosmokingpolicemenagaininorder toreachaplace
fromwhichbetter toseewhat thecrowdwasthrowingstonesat. I addressedthem
andthey say, All thecity is likethis now. They didnot tell meto go homebut
instead offered me a bidi (Indian cigarette). They told me, Inside there [ander
ma], it is even worse, referring to the dense labyrinth of lanes in the old city
center, thebowelsof Ahmedabad.
I enteredanother squarein front of Shahpur Darwajaon RingRoadwherean
evenlarger audiencewithnopolicemenobservedtheattackingmob. Theringroad
wasonceafortiedwall, protectingtheoldcityfromenemies. Today, thewall has
beendemolishedallowingair ventilationintoitsdrylanes. Thecityisnowdivided
by acomplex array of invisiblewalls between residents andcommunities. Three
shopswerealreadyburningandtheimmenserecouldbefelt fromtheother side
of thestreet. Nearbyastreettemplehadalsocaughtre, andthewhitepaintslowly
turneddark. Noonepaidattention. Sittingonscootersandbicyclesontheroada
silent audience of perhaps fteen to twenty people stared at the rampaging
crowd. Some sat on newspapers placed on the pavement, others on their rumal
(scarves), protecting their pants from stains. One man tells us, They are all
insured. I askedif that istrueandhesaidYes, of course, theywill all get money.
They all left.
38 Violence
Fromall sidespeoplewerethrowingstonesat acompoundinfront of us, from
theroofs of adjacent houses, fromthestreet, frombehind alargetreedecorated
with hundreds of Hindu ags, which suggested there was another adjacent
temple. I askedif thereareany Muslims inside. Another mansaidThey already
left last night. A man caught me by the armtelling me that There that is a
Muslimbuilding. Thosethrowingstoneswereenthusiastic andexcited, but there
wasnoanger intheriotingcrowd. I expectedtoseeanger but I sawonly fun.
A newspaper seller (chappawalla) arrived with his bicycle. I bought one, sat
withtheothersandbeganskimmingit. ThethinGujarati-languagepaper calledthe
WesternTimesboldlyannouncedthelatest events: Inthecitypeoplearerioting.
ItcarriedtheheadlineFrightened, BurningGujarat(BhadakeBaltuGujarat) and
spelt out ingreat detail all theareas, districts, andsubdistricts of thecity as well
asthroughoutcentral Gujaratwhereviolencehadbrokenoutandcurfewshadbeen
imposed. It saidtheentireShahpur district, too, whereweweresitting, wasunder
curfew. Buthereweweresittingonthestreetandpeoplewereriotingrightinfront
of us. Many people bought a paper (less than ve cents a paper) and the seller
madegoodbusiness. Turningour faces away fromtheheat of theburningshops,
westartedtoread. Nooneseemedtondthismoment rather extraordinary.
Thenewsprint was hard to read in places becauseof its cheap quality. Words
weresmudgedor partsweremissingwherethepaper hadbeenfoldedor crinkled.
Almost half of theentirerst pageof theWesternTimescarriedadvertisements: a
mouth freshener Must Vahar for clean breath and lovely mood, miraculous
Ayurvedic capsules called Big Body that promised more bodily strength with
only one capsule a day by increasing appetite and weight while simultaneously
lessening physical fatigue. An advertisement for breast cream and Only-me
Spray by SynthicoExports for multipleerections depictedarareerotic sceneof
amanontopof awomeninasuggestivepose. Therewas evenanadvertisement
for theGujarat Policeand Military Store on thepapers fourth and nal page,
framed by a gun and a rie on each side. The guns were explicitly praised for
svarakshananenishaanmate for self-defenseandassymbol (ensign). After a
pious introduction, it advertisedair-pistols andair-guns for 600to 3400Rupees.
Inbracketsit said, licenseni jarur nathi (nolicenserequired).
I askedamansittingnexttometoreadthepaper withmebuthehadjustbought
apaper himself. Hepointstotheburningshopsinfront of usandtoldmeinaat
tone: This is what is happening. Hemeant that therewas no need to read the
newspaper becauseI couldseeinfront of mewhat ishappening. But thenI won-
dered why hebought anewspaper. Thepaper showed black-and-whitephotos of
thebizarrelycharredbodiesintheburned-outS6coachof Sabarmati Express. The
front page and the last page showed also riot scenes, policemen and burning
houses. But therewereno riotingpeopleinthepictures. Thestreets wereempty,
as if no one was there, or everybody has already left the scene when the
photographs were taken. Strange, I thought, as I watched the streets lled with
BandhinAhmedabad 39
riotersinfront of mewhilethepublishedpicturesof thoseverystreetsomittedthe
people.
Besidemeayoungmanwearingbluejeans andanAmericansweatshirt sat on
his scooter and silently stared at the burning shops. Through a hand gesture he
askedtoseethepaper I hadjust bought. Wetalked. R. speaksGujarati mixedwith
someweak English. Heisacollegestudent at auniversity intheother sideof the
city. Hetalked of Ayodhya. They will buildatemplethere, hesaid, even though
theMuslims areagainst it. I askedwhy theshops wereattacked. They arefrom
themusalmans, hesaid. Muslims haveattacked Hindus in Godhra, headded
dispassionately. Thats why these shops are being burnt. They have taken our
women. His manner was detached, unemotional, andheseemedto bemouthing
words rather thaninhabitingthemeanings of thewords hewas speaking. I asked
himwhy shopownersinAhmedabadareresponsiblefor theattacksonHindusin
Godhra. Inlieuof ananswer, R. simplytook myhandandsaid: Come, youwant
tosee? Comeon, Ill showyou.
Leadingmebythehand, hebrisklywalkedtowardtheburningshopswhereani-
matedyouthsstoodandthrewstones. Wepassedtheheat of twoburned-out shops
in a little alleyway. Standing between theshops, theheat fromthestill glowing
res was so great that I had to cover my eyes. R. joined the others and started
throwingstones. Firingoneafter theother, hewent ontheassault. But thestones
werenot directedtowhat was left of theshops. They landedbehindahighwhite
wall alongasmall chawl (small road). I assumedtherearepeopletherebut, if so,
they made no noise, there was no response. I felt embarrassed and somewhat
ashamed, standing amidst people attacking a Muslim structure of worship. R.
wantedmeto throwbut I simply turnedaroundandleft. I didnot knowwhat to
say.
I hadunselfconsciouslyhesitatedfor asmall instant, caught betweenwantingto
pleaseR.s unexpectedcall to participateandmy resistanceagainst it. Something
inmehadbeentempted theseductionof thecrowd?Thepower of contagion? In
retrospect, it seemedasif R., after seeingthenewspaper photos, put himself inthe
picture, theemptypictureof thenewspaper. Helookedat theemptyriotingscenes
andthentook my handinorder to put us bothinthepicture. TheWesternTimes
not onlyinformedthereader of what washappeningbut it encouragedhimtotake
part.
Confused, I walkedbackandpositionedmyself onatrafcislandnexttoablind
andbeardedoldmanwho was squattingtheresilently, seemingly protectedfrom
viewbyanother closedpaanshop. It isnot uncommontoseeindividualslikehim
sitting somewhat indiscernibly on a trafc divider or street corner as if merged
withthecitys hardware. Thesegures eat, sleepanddieonthis pavement. They
aretreatedlikealamppost: they areinvisibleandescapethelogic of thecity. For
amoment, I wastemptedtoaskhimif hehappenedtobeaMuslimbut I abstained
inorder not tofrightenhimincasehewas. BehindusliesShahpur Darwaja(gate)
40 Violence
anditsmosque, guardedbytwopolicemen, whohadalsoboughtanewspaper from
theseller, again in order to read about what they werelooking at. It madesense
that thecrowdwouldnot attack thisstructureasbehindtheShahpur gatebegana
Muslimmajorityresidential area. AndtheMuslimsof Shahpur wouldcertainlytry
toretaliateif someonewastoenter their safearea. I wonderedamoment why the
policeguardedwhat wasnot beingattacked.
Theold man worethick glasses and it appeared that hedid not hear well. He
wascouchednext toahugeblock of icecoveredwithjutesheets, whichprovided
some protection fromthe heat. In front of us we watched the breaking in and
looting of three new shops on Ring Road at Maiya Fateh ni Chali. Fromthe
outside, there was nothing to suggest that these were Muslimshops. But in the
crowdtherewereleaders, bigmen, or menof themoment, whorushedtospecic
shopsandgavesignswiththeir handsfor theotherstocome. Theyoungmenwere
secureandself-condent. They woreneither masksnor helmets.
Thecrowdmanagedto break openabeverageshop. Happily shoutingat their
accomplishment, they drank thesoft drinks as if they hadearnedthemfollowing
aharddayswork. They smashedtheempty bottlesonthestreet. Oneboy opened
abottlewithhisteeth, knowingfull well that wewereall lookingat him. Hewas
onstage. Infrontof uswasagarageshopcalledNutanTires. Themengesticulated
and seemed to know the shop. They broke open the door with a loud bang and
many Arrrayyyss. They used stones and steel lances to smash thelocks of the
gutters. Theoldblindmanaskedmewhichshopit was. I toldhimNutanTires.
I had to shout several times Nutan tires, Nuutaan Tiiires! until he got it. He
noddedmechanically. It wasclear theshopswerehandpicked. Thecrowdselected
only thisshop, aMuslimshopandnot theshoptotheright or totheleft. AgainI
was offeredabidi but, ironically, wehadno matchdespiteall thereinfront of
us. The old man showed no emotion of discomfort, fear or anger toward the
attackingyouthor thetargetedMuslimcommunity. Hesimply seemedtowant to
wait it out until thestormhadpast.
Thevery rst thingremovedfromNutanTires was ascooter, probably parked
insidetheshopasaprecaution. It wasdraggedout andlit onrewithgreat cere-
mony. Thenoneyoungmanbrought out asmall stereo, akindof ghettoblaster. To
my amazement they immediately smashedthemachineonthepavement andkept
slamming it down with large roundabout movements to make sure it was com-
pletely destroyed. Several parts were picked up and smashed again and again.
Aside fromvehicles, ghetto blasters were the most sought-after objects of the
youngandpoor workingclass. Next, abigredphonewas beingbrought out and
joyfully demolished, repeatedly throwing it to the ground until unrecognizable.
Another manbrought out alargemirror andtriumphantlysmashedit onthepave-
ment. He stepped on the glass shards with his thin sandals, startling me as I
thought hemight injurehisfeet. I sawnoanger, just excitement. Theideaseemed
tobetomaketheitemssplatter inall directions. Noonekeptanyitem. Itwasabout
BandhinAhmedabad 41
destructioninadramaticfashion. But if thiswasmerelyaperformance, thenwho
wastheaudience?Theanswer might turnout tobeuncomfortablefor me. But the
riotersdidnot onlyperformfor us, thebystanders. Behinduslayapredominantly
Muslimareaontheother sideof Shahpur Gate, whichwasnot beingattacked. The
audiencewasalsotheMuslims, especiallythosewhohadleft thepreviousdayfor
safer grounds neighbors who rubbed shoulders with the attackers on a daily
basis. Thats why theobjects werenot kept. To keepthemwouldhavemeant that
theMuslimneighbor wouldhaverecognizedthemlater.
Thesmall, violent crowdnallyleft anddisappearedinanalleyinthedirection
of J ayantilal Punjalal Marg. Its attentionhadgoneelsewhere. A tribal woman, or
perhapsamember of theVagri community, stoodinfront of theransackedNutan
Tires shopandwatchedin fascination thedebris of things shecouldhardly ever
afford. Suddenlyaburningscooter madealoudbang.A policemanapproachedher
andscoldedher for standingsoclosetotheburningvehicle. Hetoldher tomove
on. I remember this little scene because the policeman was sincere about her
safety, but thecontext of hiscarewassoabsurd. Anarmoredpolicevanappeared
andweall hadtorunfor cover asit shot water andtear gaschaoticallyinall direc-
tions. Still wondering why the police targeted us, the spectators, instead of the
armed bands of rioting youth, I got tear gas in my eyes. I ended up in aVagri
mohallawithnarrowlanesandmassesof peoplepushingin.
We all rested there. Some women were closing their shutters and shops as
we all moved away fromthe spreading tear gas. Men and women were distrib-
uting iced water in the heat. People stared at me. I felt that I was out of place.
Without much ado they showed me the way out, roughly, and with hubris. I
left thenarrow lanein ahurry but outsideof thelanethreewomen approached
me, stopped me and said, Do not leave, why do you leave, ght for us! The
Vagri womensmiledandhadaninterestingcollectionof dots ontheir faces and
decorationsonhandsandfeet. Theyaddressedmejokingly, asif theywereopenly
irtingwithme. They askedwhereI was fromandwhat I was doinghere. I told
themI was German but I lived in Naranpura. After some discussion, and with
the usual amazement that I actually spoke Gujarati, they agreed that I should
leave. They smiledmockingly, andbeforethey let mego they mademesay J ai
Sitaram.
I hurriedbackover Gandhi BridgeintowestAhmedabad, waryof thepolicevan
behindme. Twoboysstoppedmeandintroducedthemselves. Wehadlotsof fun,
they said, expecting I would agree. With watering and hurting eyes from the
teargas, onetoldmethat I shouldtakehimtothisJ armany. Hewantedtostudy
GermanandliveinBangalore. Bothshowednofear andI wasamazedhowaloof
they were fromall that is happening around us. I asked themwhy no one was
afraid. Isnt thissupposedtobeariot?WherearetheMuslims?
Theytoldmethat Muslimswerehopelesslyoutnumbered. Therewouldbestab-
bings soon, they added, and thepolicewill rereal bullets at somepoint in the
42 Violence
futuretostoptherioting. But today, therewasnoreal danger. I askedwhy all this
was necessary. Theolder of thetwo does not mentiontheGodhraincident of the
previousday, nor theAyodhyaagitationbut simply said, Thisiswhat wedohere
onceayear.Seeingmyastonishmentwiththeanswer hetoldmethatMuslimshad
abductedpretty Hindugirls inGodhra. Hestressedthat they werevery pretty
girls, asif that wouldmaketheabductionworse.
Intherst fewdays theepicenter of theGujarat pogromwas not intheoldcity,
whereI hadventuredexpectingtowitnesscommunal violence at oneof thetra-
ditional troublespots, such as Shahpur Darwaja. What drew meonto thestreets
that day after a year of intensive language study had been frustration with my
inability to conversewithcity residents inasatisfyingmanner about thecycleof
violence in Ahmedabad a city riveted with such experiences. Locals had a
curiouswayof keepinganoutsider fromglimpsingthecitysunwantedunderbelly.
Nothing palpableever cameof thesediscussions despitethefact that I had wit-
nessedcurfewandcommunal effervescencebefore. Themostnotoriousandaston-
ishingresponsetomyquerieshadinitiallybeenatdenialsthatcollectiveviolence
hadever occurredinthecity anassertionthat is difcult for meto graspeven
today.
It would be easy to see in such responses willful obfuscations, conscientious
strategiesof representation. But that wouldbetosimplify what they performed. I
know that many of my interlocutors believed their own words, while they were
utteringthemandthat whenthey toldmethatAhmedabadwasthesafest city of
India they sincerely meant what they were saying. They were referring to the
experiencethat onecanwalk throughthecity at night andnot risk rape, robbery,
or murder or at least that thenumbers for suchcrimes was muchsmaller com-
paredto other cities. Communal violence, inturn, was somethingaltogether dif-
ferent. It occurreddespitetheaboveandinexcessof it.
If promptedHinduandMuslimresidents might utter thesameimmediateesti-
mation: everydaydecent peoplearenot toblamefor boutsof communal violence,
but rather thoseinpower, or politics (raajkaran), asthephrasegoes. Thisauto-
matic responsewas not merely amisconceptionor asimplication although it
was perhaps also that. More signicantly, however, it was a sort of defense. It
allowspeopletoreturntotheir lives(andtheir enemyneighbors) after theoccur-
renceof cyclical violence. Totalk about communal violence, then, riskstoundoa
silentconsensusandrisksmakingvisiblethesinewsof thecitybyarousinguncon-
trollableemotions and apportioning blame, all of which arefurther instances of
conict. Thereis danger intalkingabout what onends oneself caught in, about
what oneengages indespiteof oneself. It was theformthat violencetook onthe
streets that day in relation to thesilencethat preceded it which mademeunder-
standthat contemporaryahimsawasnot simplyabout renunciationbut about col-
lectiveabreaction.
BandhinAhmedabad 43
ThescenesinShahpur that I havedescribedabovewereshort of anythinglikea
riot, but rather wereastrangefestival of sortsof onecommunity intheabsence
of theother, whilethepoliceguardedcows, smokedbidisandreadinthenewspa-
pers. Inother parts of thecity, however, fromtheearly morninghours to thelate
afternoonMuslimresidential areassuchasGulbargSocietyandNarodaPatiawere
literally pounded with waves of attacks by armed killers, while huge spectator
crowds and sometimes even the police, participated or looked on. If mobs suc-
cessfully entered Muslim compounds, they killed the men, raped the women
before killing themand burned the residences to the ground. Surviving eyewit-
nesseshavereportedwidelythatMuslimvictimsweremadetospeakJ ai Shri Ram
(Hail LordRam) andVandeMataram(Hail totheMother) beforebeingkilled.
Themassivekillingswereaccompaniedby falserumorsof abductionof Hindu
girlsandof impendingMuslimcounter-attacks, whichnever occurred. Intheearly
daysof thepogrom, vernacular newspaperscirculatedgruesomeimagesof burned
victims, whichwereviewedinhomesandroadsideteastands. Someimagerywas
also circulatedthroughpiratedDVDs. Theterminologies intitles andcaptions of
newspapers were suffused with sacricial and culinary terms, such as roasted
bodies (bhujaai marya hata), reandbloodofferings (homaya, bali) as well as
ghosts anddemons (pishaachi, hevaaniyat, shaytano). Oneparticularly revolting
image on the front page of Sandesh newspaper of 2 March 2002, depicted the
burnedcorpseof awomanwithseveral burnedchildrenstrewncloselyaroundher.
The arrangement of the corpses was such that they seemed to formone single
smeltedbody, eshmeltedtogether bytheheat of therethat haddestroyedthem.
In this newspaper, as is usually the case, the religious identities of the victims
remain unstated, although totally self-evident to those people consuming the
imagery. Diversegroups andcommunities appropriatedthis imagery, whichthey
took as evidence of the unnatural and extraordinary cruelty of their respective
opponents. Fact-ndingreports havenotedthat someof thesenewspaper images
wereactually heldupby murderous crowds andshowntoMuslims onthestreets
in front of their homes, after which members of thecrowdattackedandshouted
This is what wearegoingto do to younow. For most residents inAhmedabad,
thisimagebecamethetropeof mother brutallyburnedwithchildren,viewedand
consumedcollectively withfascinationandhorror.
Besides government connivance and visible police passivity, there was also
direct police participation in many locations of the city. Politicians and several
membersof parliament wereseenonthestreet encouragingcrowdsof attackersto
burnMuslimshomes.
2
Thewidespreaduseof gascylinders, kerosene, acid, sharp
weaponsandawhite, chemical powder that burned, givesevidencetothecoordi-
nated, systematic and planned nature of the attacks. The advancing mobs used
electoral rollsandtax records, instrumentsof themodernstatemachinery, tond
victims in those cases where locals knowledgeable for the residential structures
werenot at hand. Themost violent attacksoccurredwhereMuslimresidentswere
44 Violence
hopelesslyoutnumberedor wheretheyconsistedof Muslimmigrant communities
fromoutsideGujarat, not well connectedtolocal Muslimnetworks. After therst
fewdaysof pogrom, anidentiablepatterndevelopedinwhichkillingswerecon-
centratedinareas far beyondtheinner city wall at thefringes intheeast part of
Ahmedabad (in areas such as Meghani Nagar, Naroda, Odhav, Amraiwad,
Bapunagar, and Gomptipur). Whereas the inner city had always been ofcially
designated as highly sensitive area, the largest and most pervasive attacks
occurredelsewhere.
The carnevalesque quality of violence, a sort of communal Saturnalia, of the
rst three days of the pogromwould soon become rationalized retroactively in
terms of a self-proclaimed Hindu anger (hindu krodh), the perceived energy
behindacollectivepratikriya, acounter-action or reaction totheGodhratrain
incident. Pratikriya, awordthat derivesfromthedomainof ritual, communicates
asenseof immediatekarmic retribution, amechanismthat works automatically
andcannot bestopped. WhereMuslims hadpersonally edtheir shops andresi-
dences, as in Shahpur area, gangs satised themselves with the goods in their
shops. WhereMuslims werephysically present, however, especially if they were
poor andhadlittleproperty, their actual physical bodiesbecametheobject of play
andviolent consumption.
Fact-ndingcommissionsconsistentlymakedisturbingreferencestothewayin
whichthebodiesof thevictimsweretreatedduringandafter theattacks. Menwere
not simply killedbut preferably cut into pieces whilestill alive(insomecases in
full view of family members) and then thrown into a prearranged re. Women
werenot only raped and murdered but their orices werepenetrated with sharp
weapons after killing and their genitals mutilated (preferably with guptis, a
farmers tool usedas aweapon, andtrishuls, Shivas trident). Both, thetreatment
of goodsfromMuslimsshopsthat I witnessedinShahpur, andthemurderousacts
onliveMuslimbodieselsewhere, giveevidencetotheperformativequalityof the
violence. Thereisahomologyherebetweenpeopleandthings, wheretheattackers
went out of their way to destroy the objects seized completely in a dramatic
fashion, asif consumedbyHinduanger,whichcuriouslytooktheformof enjoy-
ment andfun.
Withinafewdays, several hundredMuslimswerekilled, thenumber risingafter
several weeks toover athousand; 150,000refugees sooncrowdedcountless relief
camps throughout central Gujarat; large numbers of Muslimreligious structures
weredesecratedor destroyed. Inthecity of Ahmedabadalone, fty-vereligious
structures were attacked on this rst day of violence. Even after the immediate
pogromviolenceabated, smaller attackscontinuedfor manymonths. Thecitynever
returnedto any formof normalcy until after my departureinApril 2003. Several
human-rightsandnongovernmental organization(N.G.O.) activists, bothHinduand
Muslim, as well as politically engagedintellectuals andacademics, hadtodisap-
pearandndrefugewithclosefriendsfromtheHindumajoritycommunityduring
BandhinAhmedabad 45
thepogrom. Theseweremostly peoplewho in thepast had been activein urban
peacecommittees, hadopenlypromotedsecularismintheir respectivecommunities
and tried to ensure communal harmony in the future. Many afuent Muslims
simplyleft Gujarat andwent toBombay, London, or NewYork.
Thediscussionswithmembersof Hindumiddleclassesinthefollowingweeks
stunnedmebytheir completeunwillingness(or inability?) todistancethemselves
fromtheeventssurroundingthepogrom theexact oppositeof myprior attempts
to discuss violenceinAhmedabad. Most Gujaratis I spoketo invoked idioms of
diet andsexuality, oftendefensively, to describethecontinuous everyday harass-
ment they felt exposedto by Muslims. Whether Muslimcolleagues at work, stu-
dentsat school, friendswhohadbetrayedthem, or neighborswhocouldnolonger
betrusted, theissuesbrought uprepeatedly werevariationsonthethemeof inva-
sionby aphantasmagoric Muslimgure. Theseimagesof invasionwerepredom-
inantly invokedinrelationto ingestion(disgust for themeat eatingof Muslims),
penetration(fear of Muslimdesirefor Hindugirls) anddissection(resentment for
thepracticeof cattleslaughter and partition of themother country). Their sym-
bolicconsistencyandpatternhasremainedwithmesincetheeventsin2002, sub-
sequently reappearingindreams, someof whichwerenightmares.
For example, in2004, at aMeetingof theAssociationof AsianStudies(A.A.S.)
inSanDiego, I hadexplainedtoacolleaguefamiliar withGujarat whythefantasy
of rapeandtheslaughter of cowswereexperiencedashomologous. ThenI hadthe
followingdream:
I seeacorpsebut thecorpseisapieceof meat too. It isawomanandacowmergedin
onebody. ThereissomeUr-ritual inwhichbothhavebeenmerged. I havelost thispart
. . . Thereissomerevelationwhywomenandcowsarethesamevis--vismen, themas-
culine. Theburnedcreature, neither cownor woman, actually lookslikearoastedpig.
It seemstohaveananimal head. Perhapsabullsheadwithlongears. Likethewarrior
monsters with bullheads in Mesopotamian mythology. And a large body of a gutted
chickenspreadout. It isspreadout inthemiddleor sowntogether at eachorgansend.
It reminds me of cooking images and thus there is something chicken-like about it,
becauseI cook so much chicken. It is burnt likearoastedpieceof chicken. Thereis
disgust anddesirefor thisroastedmeat.
Thisdreamof 2004, oneof aseriesof suchdreams, indexesactual experiences
of theviolenceof 2002, theextremeimageryinvernacular newspapers, thesacri-
cial andculinary terminology that accompaniedthis imagery, andutterances of
participantsonthestreet. But it alsoexpressesanother important insight about the
deeper collectivepsychologyof thepogrom, whichseemscontradictoryat rst. In
thecontextof violence, whenbeingHinduor Muslimbecomesamatter of lifeand
death, religious identity is nevertheless supersededby gender: what becomes the
preferredspectacleof sacricial consumptionisthefemalebody. Thesameimage
46 Violence
can be used to express ones own communitys legitimated anger for being
wronged, whileat thesametimealsoshowingthebarbarityof theenemycommu-
nity. Thecircularityisastounding. What becomesapparent here, inmyopinion, is
not at all anewinsight, but nonetheless animportant one: communal or pogrom
violenceisfundamentally structuredby gender.
ThewalkbackhomethroughNaranpurainthelateafternoonof thatsamerstday
of thepogrom, 28February 2002, was deceptively idyllic. I noticedthat I slowed
downmy walkingpace, breathingin, lettingtheimpressionsdotheir work inme.
Bereft of theusual noiseanddust, onecouldactuallyenjoythesetrees, thesinging
of thesebirds andthehot climate. I caught myself intheperversionof thesitua-
tion. But to my surprise, I was not the only one. In parts of Naranpura and
Ambawadi, I saw married couples sitting on their garden swings (hitchko),
enjoyingthecalmnessof theday. Theunperturbedresidentshadnointerest com-
municatingwithsomeonewhohasseendisturbingthingsacrossthebridgeandthe
usual curiositytowardsall foreignersseemedshort-circuited. Membersof families
swingandwant to beleft alone. Thebandh, whichintheeast city freedlaborers
fromworktoengageinviolence, translatedinthewestintoanatmosphereof bour-
geois leisure, a cultivated ignorance, where one could enjoy a day off with the
accomplishmentsof amiddle-classlife.
Ambawadi andNaranpuraareposhdistrictsconsideredgoodareas. Residents
appreciatethat they areabsolutely safefromMuslims as therearenonearound,
whilemembers of lower classes, whoareabletoliveor work here, simply praise
whattheyrefer toasfull facility,thatis, theavailabilityof jobs, water, electricity
andpublicservices. Thisqualityismadepossiblethroughthenancial cloutof the
savarna, communities of the Gujarati middle class consisting mainly of upper
castes, likeVaniya, BrahminandPatidar. Thetypical noMuslimsaround means
that theMuslimcommunity as community is not present in any way, even if an
occasional middle-class Muslimfamily nds its way into an apartment hereand
there. Theconsequenceof thisinvisibility of theMuslimcommunity isthat there
arenomixedor border areas,makingtheareaseemsafe.Therelaxedatmos-
pheresubsequently changed, however, whenagent provocateursstartedspreading
false rumors of impending Muslimcounter attacks. But for the time being the
moodwascalmindifference.
I might haveignoredthesecuriousgardenswingshadI not, onthat rst day of
pogromviolence, passedaseriesof fancyhomeswhereresidentsswayedbackand
forthunder theafternoonsun. Theswingisasymbol of royaltyinGujaratandalso
theprideof every middle-class apartment or house. It is thesymbol of Krishna,
thedeity, who is ritually swung back and forth in worship during thefestival of
J anmashtami, whichcelebratesBal Krishna, theGodincarnatedasanimaginative
youngchildlyinginaswingingcradle. Inpopular bhajans (devotional songs) of
theimmenselypopular GoddessAmbaMata, shetooisfrequentlydepictedsitting
BandhinAhmedabad 47
onaswing. Swingsarenot onlyusedingardensbut alsoinmulti-storyapartment
houses. Each family has aswing in thestairways right behind theentrancedoor
grills. I often see elderly married couples swinging in middle-class homes,
enjoyingthecool breezeinthelateevening.
On this day, too, as if narcoticized by their own clueless-ness, or perhaps
soothingsomenervousness, thewell-to-doresidentsswingindifferentlyback-and-
forthto therepetitivesqueakingsoundof metal joints amidst anunusual silence.
Thispicturehasstuck withme.
3
Therearemanyfact-ndingreportsonthe2002Gujarat violence, whichareof
diverse quality and depth. For a start, compare Human Rights Watch (H.R.W.),
We Have No Orders to Save You. State Participation and Complicity in
Communal Violence in Gujarat, 14 (3) (C), April 2002; Concerned Citizens
Tribunal (C.C.T.), Crime Against Humanity. An Inquiry into the Carnage in
Gujarat, Vol. I and II. Ahmedabad: Anil Dharkar for Citizens for J ustice and
Peace, 2002; Human Rights Watch (H.R.W.), Compounding Injustice: The
Governments Failures to Redress Massacres in Gujarat, 15 (3) (C.), J uly 2003;
CommunalismCombat(G.G.), Genocide, Gujarat2002.J avedAnandandTeesta
Setalvad(ed.), Year 8, No. 7778, 2002. Mumbai: SabrangCommunications; and
Report by theInternational Initiativefor J ustice(IIJ ), Threatened Existence: A
FeministAnalysisof theGenocideinGujarat, December 2003.
Notes
1. Somenameshavebeenabbreviated.
2 For example, R. B. Sreekumar, Gujarats additional Director-General of Police
(Intelligence Bureau) testied before the Nanavati-Shah Commission about
direct policecollusionwiththoseaccusedof rioting. PoliceSuperintendent in
Bhavnagar Rahul Sharma has also made depositions before the investigative
commission, revealing that key accused had been in regular touch with the
policeintherst threedays of violence. Hegaveevidencethroughrecords of
mobilephoneconversations. Bothestablishedalso that J aydeepPatel, aV.H.P.
leader, andMayaKodnani, aB.J.P. member andM.L.A. (Member of Legislative
Assembly) wereindeedpresent at theNarodaPatiamassacre, as eyewitnesses
andMuslimsurvivorshadclaimedall along(cf. Bunsha2006, pp. 36, 579).
3. I want to thank the Social Science Research Council and the Wenner Gren
Foundation for their generous nancial support during preliminary language
study and dissertation eld research. I also want to thank Gujarat University
and Gujarat Vidhyapit for support, accommodation, and training during lan-
guagestudy and eldwork between 19992005. Most importantly, however, I
want tothank individualsinGujarat for hospitalityandencouragement, friend-
ship and critique: Mr. Raymondbhai P., Mr. B., Ms. and Mr. Mehta, Mr. A.
48 Violence
Shah, Mr. Prakash and Mr. Prakash S., Mr. Pathak, Kapil D., Dasharath and
Ramesh Y., Sukrat M., Rajkumar, Hydaid Ali Shah Bapu Pir and Swami
Dearamdasji, Nandini andJ ohannes, Mahesh, Iftikhar, PraragandRitubenK.,
Arvindbhai B., Yogendrabhai V., Rajaishreeben T., Harsha H., Firozbhai,
Salimbhai Pathan and Manoj Goswami, Anand, Pinkyben and Irmalaben,
Makrandbhai and Shivji, Nilotpalaben, Iqbalbhai, Rumanaben, Matuben
Topliwalla, Dearambhai, RakeshS., Akbarbhai, Gokalbhai Rabari, J earambhai,
Kamalbhai Qureshi, J ehangir M., Chandulal Maharaj J oshi, Sikanda Shah
Fakir, Yusufbhai Pathan, Narayanbhai Rabari, Manvarkhan, Raju and Askok,
Pinnakin, Shyamal, Vimlaben, VeenaandRaveenaben, Trupti andRohit, J atin
andBhavinbhai.
BandhinAhmedabad 49
3
FieldworkandFear inIraqi Kurdistan
DianeE. King
[T]heeffectivecheck onexcessesintheuseof power isthethreat of murder . . . vio-
lencehasbecomeinstitutionalizedastheonly mechanismat hand.
Fredrik Barth
Theverywordsproject, informants, information, interview, evidence, descrip-
tion took onnewandterrifyingmeanings.
E. ValentineDaniel
BeforetheIraqi Baathregimes ouster in2003, I intermittently livedandcarried
out researchintheKurdish-controlledpart of Iraq. I oftencommutedbetweenthe
towns of Dohuk and Zakho by bus or ataxi shared with other passengers. Each
timethebus or taxi passedthejunctionjust northof Dohuk at whichoneof the
roadsledtothegovernment-controlledcity of Mosul, passengerstypically tensed
up. Inthedistance, butwithinview, laythelastKurdishcheckpoint. Beyonditwas
territorycontrolledbySaddamHussein, whohaddeclaredhimself thearchenemy
of bothdisloyal Iraqi Kurds andtheUnitedStates, my country of citizenship. On
morethan oneoccasion, ataxi driver announcedloudly to us passengers that he
plannedtotakeaquickdetour toMosul. Hethenturnedhisheadtowardsustosee
thelooksonour faces. At thispoint, thetaxi driver wouldthrowhisheadbackand
laughheartily, delightedat hisabilitytoget ariseout of us, especiallyout of avis-
iting American. We all smiled as the tension drained fromour bodies and we
passedthejunction, remainingenroutetoDohuk.
OnedayinMarch1998thepublicbusI wastravelingincametoanabrupt halt
just beforethejunction. Wepassengerscranedour neckstoseewhat wasgoingon
andreactedwithalarmwhenwesawwhat hadpromptedthebustostop: thestreet
ahead of us was lled with soldiers in Iraqi uniforms. The people around me
gasped and murmured that wemust havejust been invaded by theIraqi army
arrivingviatheroadfromMosul. Holdingontotheseats infront of us, westood
51
toget abetter view, aghast. I heardnervousexclamationsof Bismallah! (inthe
nameof God, anArabicexpressionoftenutteredbyapersoninfear) followedby
questions and speculations as to the implications of what we were seeing. My
thoughtsraced. It seemedpossiblethat I waslivingsomeof mylast momentsand,
judgingfromthecommentary of theother passengers, they thought soaswell.
Duringtheprevious fewweeks thepolitical tensionhadbeenevenhigher than
usual. President Clintonhadthreatenedtoorder theU.S. militarytobombIraqfor
failingto cooperatewith U.N. weapons inspectors. For weeks peoplehadspecu-
latedthat if thishappenedthefallout might includeahostileincursionbytheIraqi
armyintotheKurdishareas. (Whenlater thebombsdidstart droppingonspecic
military targets ontheBaghdad-controlledsideof theborder, no incursionmate-
rializedandeventually peopleintheKurdishareapaidthemlittleattention.)
Inmomentsthat seemedtolast aneternity, thebuscautiouslycrept closer tothe
junction. Onlythendidwediscernastrangebut relievingdetail: thesoldierswere
in fact Kurdish, not representingtheIraqi government. This was attestedto by a
yellowagbearingtheinsigniaof theKurdistanDemocraticPartyandother subtle
signs. Their Iraqi uniforms wereastrategic display of theKurdish regional gov-
ernments decision to promoteIraqi federalism, amuch-talked-about ideaat the
timebutonethathadlackedvisibleimplementation. Bypubliclyclothingitspesh-
merga(Kurdishghterswhohadbeenaguerillaforce) inthesameuniformasthe
Iraqi national army near theroad to Mosul, theKurdish regional administration
couldplacateBaghdad, Turkey andtheU.S. all at once.
ThisstrategyperformedIraqi-nessbydownplayingseparatismwhilesimultane-
ouslyprovidingashowof strengthof peshmergaghtersamassingwithSaddams
forces just a few hundred meters away. It served the purpose of sending the
messagethat theKurdsweremilitarilysovereignbehindtheir linesof control, and
it implicitly warnedtheIraqi army not toadvance. It took only afewsecondsfor
us passengers to sort out thecomplex semiotics of thesituation and cometo an
understandingof what wewereobserving. I rememberedthat I hadheardthat the
peshmerga were in the process of adopting the features of a regular army. We
breathed acollectivesigh of relief as thebus waited and then slowly proceeded,
inchingthroughcolumnsof soldiersandthenontoitsdestination.
FieldworkinIraq(i Kurdistan)
I rst went to Iraqi Kurdistan in 1995, andvisitedon threeoccasions duringthe
19912003inter-war period, thesubjectof thischapter. Duringthe1990sIraqwas,
as it indeedis presently, synonymous withviolence. Inagameof charades such
wordsassecurity, crises andviolence might bringtomindIraq beforethe
nameof any other state. TheIraq that was led by SaddamHussein was called a
Republic of Fear by the author Makiya (1998) and by many other observers.
52 Violence
HumanRightsWatchbeganreportswithlinessuchasTheIraqi government con-
tinued to commit widespread and gross human rights violations, including arbi-
trary arrests of suspectedpolitical opponents, executions of prisoners, andforced
expulsions. . . (HumanRightsWatch2000). Anaccountingof theBaathregimes
crimes wouldincludemany well-knownatrocities, especially intheseveral years
before 1991. For example, it used chemical weapons against Iranian troops and
Kurdish rebels and villagers, killing perhaps 100,000. It disappeared 8,000
membersof theBarzani tribein1983. Millionsof peoplelivedunder theregimes
tyranny, never knowingwhenit might strikethempersonally.
Theregimeof SaddamHussein and thoseloyal to himrelied on theconstant
threat and exertion of bodily harmand execution to exert sovereignty over the
inhabitants of the state. To live in Iraq was to contend daily with governance
backed up by force. Not only did thousands diein infamous mass attacks the
regimetorturedandkilledmany other peopleoneby one. Amnesty International
asserted that in addition to the more known attacks, hundreds of thousands of
other peoplehavebeenthevictims of extrajudicial executions duringthe1980s
(Randal 1999: 214).
Intheanti-Saddamsanctuary of Iraqi Kurdistan, Saddams genocidal rampage
inthe1988Anfal campaignstoodasasmuchhistory aspossibility history that
couldbere-enactedat any moment, andwithalmost unimaginableconsequences.
Frenchphilosopher Michel Foucault (2000: 340) contrastsapower relationship
witharelationshipof violence.Theformer canonlybearticulatedonthebasis
of two elements that areindispensable. . . theother (theoneover whompower
is exercised) is recognizedandmaintainedto thevery endas asubject who acts
. . . Thelatter is moreextreme: A relationshipof violenceacts uponabody or
uponthings; it forces, it bends, it breaks, it destroys, or it closes off all possibili-
ties. Its oppositepolecanonly bepassivity, andif it comes upagainst any resist-
anceit has noother optionbut totry tobreak it down. Therelationshipbetween
the Iraqi government and the inhabitants of Iraq felt like one that had moved
beyondamerepower relationshiptoapurifying, reducingrelationshipof violence.
Saddams 1988 attempt at genocide against the Kurds was not so much a ght
against another as anattempt to destroy theadversary onceandfor all. While
talk was rifeintheglobal mediaandamongbothlocal andglobal political com-
mentators that the Iraqi people should eliminate Saddamand bring down his
regime, no Iraqi managedto act accordingly. Saddams internal adversaries were
passive victims who did not manage to strike back at Saddamin any effective
fashion, muchasthey toldmethey wantedto.
I deliberately refer to the inhabitants of Iraq rather than to its citizens to
emphasize the collapsing of social categories rendered by the totalizing fear
engenderedbySaddamandrepresentativesof hisgovernment. Didthepoisongas
dropped by helicopters in theAnfal campaign kill only Iraqi citizens? Were the
tanks poisedto takeDohuk mountedwithspecial citizensensors? Didcitizens
FieldworkandFear inIraqi Kurdistan 53
need more (or less) elaborate plans for escape than noncitizens? No fearing
Saddam was for everyone inhabiting a particular space, the space of Iraqi
Kurdistan. Everyone within the Iraqi states reach, citizen or noncitizen, Arab,
Kurd, or American, hadtolivewithinthisconstant possibilityof violence. Byour
very presence, we inhabitants faced the possibility that the state would reassert
itself over Kurdistanas it continuedto do intherest of Iraq. Wefearedthearbi-
trarinessof arrest, thestateslack of accountabilityandthefact that theLeviathan
of thestatenot only arrestedthosethat committedsomewrong but was out of
control, excessive, irrational, killing and torturing merely upon suspicion and
without reason.
By entering the territorial domain of this specter of violence and remaining
theretocarry out my eldwork, I, too, wassubjectedtofear andsurveillanceand
livedwiththedangersof bodilyandmental harm. I hadthedesiretoleavetopre-
servemy safety several times. My longest stay, of elevenmonths in19978, was
tohavebeeneighteenmonthsbut it hadbeendelayedbyanincursiontheprevious
year by theIraqi military intotheKurdishcity of Erbil. At thetimeI waswaiting
inTurkey for border-crossingclearance. Inthis I was morefortunatethanfriends
ontheIraqi sideof theborder whoedfor their lives, althoughDiyarbakir andits
surroundings was no haven either, since a war between the government and the
P.K.K. (PartiyaKarkereKurdistan, or KurdistanWorkers Party) was under way.
After ayear spent inTurkeysKurdishregionandtheU.S., await that seemedlike
an eternity, I nally madeit back to Iraqi Kurdistan, entering through themore
hospitableSyrianborder. Althoughthepreviousyearseventshadleft meshort on
timeandmoney, they hadalsolit areunder me. I wasdeterminedthat thistime
my plan to be the rst cultural anthropologist in several decades to carry out
researchinIraqlastingmorethanafewweeks wouldnot bethwarted. Staying
wasasboundupwithchoice, or morespecicallymadeupof small micro-choices
madecontinuously inwakingconsciousness, asgoing. But stayinghad, for me,
adeterminedaspect as well. Fromthestart, evenbeforeI went to theeld, I had
hadasenseof calling. Onceintheeld, thiswasbolsteredbydailyremindersthat
my life was not merely my own. Local peoples speech was peppered with
EnshallahandHeker Xwidehas dikit (if it is Gods will inArabic andKurdish
respectively). Under theconstraints weall faced, therewas no alternativelife, no
possibility of a Sartrean life of free acts of the will. Anthropologists are infre-
quently calledupontogiveaspiritual accountingof eldwork experience. But in
mycase, muchof theanswer tothequestionof whyI stayedandwhat allowedme
tostay inaplacetaintedby apall of fear wouldentail suchanaccounting.
I livedinhosthouseholdsandvisitedothersonaregular basis, includingseveral
in remotevillages. I also taught at thelocal university. In thesesettings I heard
constant referencestotheimpact of Saddam oneverydaylife. Thisrangedfrom
the potential for tragedy to the quotidian. If making reference to the future, a
personmightadd, . . . If Saddamdoesnotkill usrst. If speakingof aneveryday
54 Violence
frustrationthatcouldbeblamedonthefailureof thestate, suchasthelackof elec-
tricity, someonemight say, Damnthefather of Saddam.
But peoplealsojokedabout Saddam. Their jokeswereakindof triumph, alast
wordtoatyrant whorelishedrobbinghisvictimsof their humanity. Hecouldkill
their relatives and make themlive in constant fear but he could not steal their
laughter. Onejoke, for example, offeredanexplanationfor handgestures. Saddam
waswell knownfor wavingtocrowdsinastiff motion, bendingonlyhisshoulder,
with all vengers pointed at thecrowd. Members of thecrowd would hold up
twongersinavictorysigninreply. Accordingtothejoke, what thecrowdreally
meantbythetwongerswas, Your mother hadtwohusbands.WhatSaddamwas
really saying back to themwith his ve outstretched ngers was, No, she had
ve. In a culture in which hardly a greater insult existed than to question the
sexual delityof onesmother or thecertaintyof onespaternity, tellersandhearers
alike found this joke delightfully subversive. I heard many other jokes as well.
Peopleseemedtolaughalot.
When listening to locals I always heard in two modes. In one mode, I was a
eldworker listening ethnographically to the other in the same manner as any
ethnographer. But I was also at themercy of my cultural consultants for my very
lifeandthis madefor anadditional kindof listeningthat was self-focusedrather
thanother-focused.
I listenedtothepeoplearoundme especially duringoccasions of heightened
fear for whatever their reportedfacts, rumors, strategies, justications, opinions,
advice, andexperiencemight contributetomyownsafety. I listenednot merelyto
document, collate, or archive their words for later analysis after the eld,
althoughI didthis too. My career dependedontheformer kindof listening, and
my lifedependedonthelatter. My listeningt neatly withinthecultural motif of
visiting between kin, neighbors and friends, which took placein nearly every
household nearly every evening. During these visits people recounted painful
episodesinthepast, mournedthoselost toviolence, andspeculatedabout present
political machinations. Talkingabout their fears seemedto haveapurgingeffect.
It seemedtomakeeverythingall right for thebrief moment duringwhicharoom
full of hearersclickedtheir tonguesinempathy andnoddedinsolidarity.
Onmy trips to Iraqi Kurdistanbetween1995and2003, multiplesovereignties
were operative in Iraq. The U.S., Britain andTurkey controlled the skies. Rival
Kurdish leaders Mesud Barzani and J alal Talabani and their peshmerga ghters
militarily and administratively controlled their respective territories within
Kurdistanand, from1995to1998, engagedinacivil war. TheU.N. hadalimited
security force on the ground and an ever-growing number of programs being
implemented by its various agencies. Independent Western nongovernmental
organizations (N.G.O.s) as well as agencies sponsored by Western governments
carried out relief and development. The Iraqi government in Baghdad retained
someof its oldinfrastructural roles, suchas supplyingsomeof theelectricity (if
supplying is theword, sinceelectricity remained scarcein theKurdish region;
onmyrst tripin1995, theelectricitywassimplyoff andlater it cameonfor only
twohours aday). TheP.K.K. madeincursions fromtheacross theTurkishborder
tothenorth. Inreply, aTurkishmilitarypresenceinsideIraqi Kurdistanuctuated,
at minimumbeing represented by several tanks and sometimes many more. The
U.S. alsohadasmall militarygroundforceuntil it departedsuddenlyin1996. The
governmentsof Iraq, Turkey, IranandtheU.S. eachhad, peopletoldme, powerful
covert security apparatuses at work. Various actors, especially Turkey and Iran,
were involved economically. Saudi Arabia funded and built thousands of prayer
housesandmosquesandreportedlyfundedIslamicpolitical parties. Withsomany
actors bringingtheir presenceto bear oneveryday experience, rumors constantly
ewastowhat thefuturewouldentail andwhichactor wasactually incontrol of
agivenlocationand/or situation.
But tomany analystsintheWest, andtomeasI waspreparingtocarry out my
research, theKurdishpart of Iraqseemedsufcientlydistant fromthereachof the
greatest threat, Saddamand his agents, as to bedeemed relatively safe. I rea-
sonedthat theWesternair cover wouldwardoff anyattemptsbytheIraqi govern-
menttodropchemical weaponsasithadin1988. Iraqi Kurdsgovernedthemselves
behind an internal border erected, mainly in the formof checkpoints along the
roads andmilitary face-off lines, duringtheheady days of their 1991uprisingas
Iraqi government troops retreated to the south and east. Although many local
peoplehad endured unspeakableacts of genocidal violence, fromtheoutset my
experiencewas almost aridiculous antithesis of thegratuitous violencethat had
gonebefore: I was warmly welcomedby virtually everyoneI met, frommy host
familiestothetopechelonsof government. For example, whenonmy rst tripin
1995, I inquiredastohowtogoaboutobtainingofcial researchpermission, I was
ushered into a formal meeting with the governor, who had invited a television
crew. There, under theglareof camerasbeamingtheevent topotentially millions
of viewers, thegovernor vigorouslydeclaredthat I wasnot onlywelcometocarry
out myresearch, but that hisgovernment wouldmakesurethat I wassafeandthat
I hadtotal freedomtotalk toanyoneandtravel anywhere. He, andother ofcials
of agovernment unrecognizedas legitimate by thecommunity of legitimate
world states, seemed to regard my presence as anAmerican anthropologist car-
ryingout ascientic researchproject asacontributiontotheir quest for recog-
nitionby theoutsideworldanditsmajor powers, especially theU.S.
In my research I was initially interested in local peoples interpretation of the
Western presencein their midst in theformof relief and development agencies.
This later evolvedinto aninterest inoutmigrationto theWest, whichwas taking
placeonamajor scale. Thedesireonthepart of local peopletoee totheWest,
whichwasmuchinevidenceaspeoplewereactingonitintheir thousands, seemed
paradoxical. Kurdishmigrantswereleavingenmassefor theWest, andoncethere,
were seeking asylum, claiming their home was unsafe. But for the rst time in
56 Violence
decades, their partof Iraqwasenjoyingtheprotectionof 24-hourWesternair cover
andrelativepolitical stability.
Uponfurther exploration, I begantounderstandtheroleof fear inpeopleslives,
just as it cameto beamajor factor inmy owndaily existenceamongthem. Fear
waspeoplesruminationonthepossibilityof violence. It matteredlittleif thevio-
lencedidnot materializebecauseviolencehadmaterializedwithintherecent past.
Fear of violence, then, took itsplacealongother motivatorsfor outmigrationsuch
as thepursuit of greater economic security, ight fromactual violenceandother
factors.
So although Iraqi Kurdistan was considered relatively safe, fear hung likea
cloudintheair, stealingsleep, robbingitsvictimsof asenseof ordinariness. Local
people spoke frequently of the possibility of succumbing to violence. I did not
observe a high level of violence around me in the sense of actually witnessing
violent actsmyself. WhileI didexperienceseveral episodesof hostilegunreand
evenlarger weaponry, theonlycorpseI sawwasinamangledvehicleshortlyafter
atrafc accident. Indeed, thestreets of thetowns of Dohuk and Zakho, whereI
spent most of my time, seemed safer than most American streets. But they were
ripewithfear. VirtuallyeveryoneI listenedtoportrayedtheir fearsaspalpableand
ongoingasopposedtosomethinginthepast, whentheIraqi government hadhad
activecontrol over theKurdisharea.
Fear of Saddam
When Iraqi Kurds used theword Saddam in aphraseor sentence, they meant
morethanjust thedictator andleader of theBaathparty. Saddamwasrenderedin
everydayconversationasagrosslyexaggeratedgurerepresentedbyanyagent of
theBaathist Iraqi government. Boundaries betweenSaddamas anindividual and
thosewhodidhisbiddingwereoftensoblurredastobeirrelevant. Theexpression
Saddam in everyday parlance of Kurds did not simply denote the totalitarian
leader but was an idiomstanding metonymically for all members of thegovern-
ment andtheatrocities committedinits name. Saddams agents renderedhimas
havingthousandsof bodieswhoseeyes, earsandarmswereimaginedtoreachany-
whereat any timeandwereready toact onhisbehalf at any moment. Thefear of
Saddamwasnecessarily aparanoidfear ashismukhabarat, thesecret police, had
beenresponsiblefor numerousforceddisappearancesandactsof horricviolence
that oftencameout of theblue.
Moreover, Saddamstroopswerepoisedalongtheinternal border andappeared
readytotakeKurdishterritoryat anytime. I livedinrelativedenial about that pos-
sibility until Easter morning1998, whenI joinedother Christians inatripto the
topof thebluff adjacent to Dohuk to celebrateEaster at sunrise. Thesettingwas
beautiful. A carpet of newgrassinterspersedwithwildowerscoveredtheground.
Thesunwasbeginningtoriseinaclear skytotheeast. Thecitywasbarelyrousing
below. As thelight increased, someoneinthetravelingparty motionedfor meto
comeandlook intheoppositedirection. I turnedaroundand, tomy horror, I saw
that onaknoll inthedistance, barely visiblewiththenakedeye, Iraqi tankswere
dugintotheslope, parkedinarowandpointinginour directionasthoughpoised
to take Dohuk on a moments notice. Despite all territorial and political uncer-
tainties, herewastheIraqi army duginandassumingapostureasthoughit were
ready tofacethearmy of another country, thenationof Kurdistan, asif it already
existed. Images and interviews with survivors of theIraqi armys last chargeon
Dohuk in 1991, when more than 1 million people ed for their lives, ashed
throughmy head. To our dawncelebrationof lifewas addedasober reminder of
deathsconstant andimminent possibility.
While Iraqi tanks were parked on the opposite side of the internal border,
a different kind of threat from Saddams secret police, the mukhabarat, was
ostensibly operative inside Iraqi Kurdistan. Fear of the mukhabarat was ram-
pant and pervasive. The logic of suspicion that somehow the mukhabarat was
listening, whether throughsurreptitiouselectroniclisteningdevicesor intheform
of an undercover agent who might be ones friend or relative, pervaded every-
thing. It was normal for peopleto wonder constantly who in their social circles
might be an agent. I heard references to this frequently and friends warned me
about several of my acquaintances whom they thought might be agents.
International observersconcurredthat SaddamsagentswereactiveintheKurdish
area. A 1994report by theU.S. Department of State(1994) warned: For 3years
therehasbeenaclear patternof criminal actslinkingtheGovernment of Iraqtoa
seriesof assassinationsandattacksinnorthernIraqonrelief workers, U.N. guards,
andforeignjournalists, includingaGermanjournalist murderedinnorthernIraq
last spring.
February 1998was aparticularly tenseperiod. WashingtonandBaghdadwere
verballysparring, andU.S. PresidentClintonwasthreateningtobombIraqif itdid
not allowUN weapons inspectors to carry out their work. Peoplein theKurdish
areaspeculatedthat if thebombsdropped, Saddammight attack theKurdisharea.
InmyZakhoandDohukhost households, westockeduponfood. I woreall of my
money, passport andcredit cardsinamoneybelt aroundmywaist 24hoursaday,
preparedtoeeonamomentsnotice.
(Fiveyearslater, I went totheU.S. embassy inLebanontorequest morepages
in my passport, which had become warped and nearly completely delaminated
during its time around my waist. The ofcer behind the window looked at me
strangely. What happened to this? shesaid. Should I tell an ofcer of theUS
government, which had expended great energy trying to prevent Americans like
myself fromgoing to Iraq, that my passport had becomedelaminated by sweat,
mobility, secrecy andfear inanIraqunder threat of Americanbombs? I resisted
the urge to share. I mumbled something about carrying it a lot and returned a
58 Violence
bureaucratic stare. Theinquisitiveness left her faceandshemirroredthis, sliding
theformfor anewpassport throughthesecurity slot.)
At the university, most of my colleagues were Kurdish, but one was Arab. I
learned that he had previously taught in the government-controlled part of the
country and that hestill lived there, making thecommuteof onehour each way
several times a week. A colleague pulled me aside during my rst week and
warnedmeabout him:
ThereisaverygoodchanceheisanIraqi agent. Whenyoutalktohim, sayonlythings
that arevery general. Donot let himknowwhereyoulive, withwhomyouassociate,
andother details. . . Weonlyhiredhimbecausewewereshort of peoplewithhisqual-
ifications. Otherwisewewould never havehired someonefromthat side, becauseof
theconnectiontoSaddam.
AsI got toknowhim, hetoldmethat hehadbeenluredtoteachintheKurdish
areabecausethepaywassignicantlyhigher. Healsotoldmeof facingsuspicion
atthecheckpointsthathehadtonavigateeverydayhecametowork. Several times
hehadbeendeniedentryandthusbeenunabletoreachwork. Incontrast, Kurdish
colleagues reversedthis logic andclaimedthat thefact that hemanagedto reach
theKurdishareafreely at all suggestedthat hemust beanagent. If hewerenot
workingfor thegovernment, hewouldnot beableto comeandgo likethis, one
of themtoldme. Suchwasthecatch-22of commutingtoworkbetweenenemyter-
ritories. Paranoiaransodeepthat thesameset of factscouldleadtodiametrically
opposedinterpretations.
Onanother occasionI was aguest at aweddinginZakho whenanother guest,
who had traveled fromthe government-controlled city of Mosul to attend the
wedding, approachedmeandaskedpointedquestions about what I was doingin
Iraq. A frienddiscreetlyintervenedandwarnedmetospeakwithher onlyinavery
limited way, saying that shewas probably agovernment agent and that I should
provide only vague information about my movements and activities again in-
sinuatingthat I facedtheriskof assassination. Thenext afternoon, I wassurprised
tondher sittingasaguestinthehomeof theH.
1
family, withwhomI wasstaying
at the time. Upon seeing me, she urged me to sit and talk with her. Although
pressedfor time, I didsobriey, stickingtoonlygeneral informationasI hadbeen
advised. When I got up to leave, shesaid, But I havemany morequestions for
you. Political questions!WespokebrieybeforeI excusedmyself, never learning
thefull extent of what sheintendedtoask me.
After sheleft, therewas much speculation as to her motives for being there.
Sure, shewas anoldclassmateof someoneintheH. householdbut was this her
real reason for visiting? Or was she gathering information about me that she
wouldthenpassontothegovernment? I learnedthat shehadaskedanumber of
pointedquestions about me. Themost alarming onewas Wheredoes shekeep
her back-upeldnotes? Onewomanpresent volunteered: Shekeeps thedisks
inasafeintheofceof anNGO or UN agency. Afterwardher sister hadchas-
tisedher for givingawaysuchsensitiveinformation. Informationwasrumoredto
befor sale; apersonwho knewsomethingthat thegovernment wantedto know
and who passed that on could not only make a little money but was able to
increaseher or hisstandingwiththegovernment. Hadtheguestbeenonamission
tondout howthegovernment couldobtainmy eldnotes?
After Saddamwas deposedin2003, I recalledthis incident withoneof theH.
householdmembers who hadbeen thereandwho hadbeen oneof thepeopleto
warnme. Sheat rst saidshebarelyrememberedit, andthenbrushedit off. I am
sureshewasnt anagent, shesaidwithcondence. Sheismyfriend.Thethreat
of government surveillancethat oncehangedheavy intheair hadliftedwiththe
changeof regime. Other threats, suchasfromviolent Islamists, remained, but they
didnot emanatefromthesamepeopleandthusrenderedthisfriendinnocent
apparently evenretroactively.
SpecificFears,AmbientFears
The Iraqi government did not have a monopoly on the generation of fear. Other
sourcesof fear wereabundant. Somehadaspecicitytothem; for thoseoutsidethe
relevant social category, aparticular sourceof fear couldhavelittlebearingbut, for
thoseinside, it might betheworst fear they faced. Domestic violence, to which I
heard frequent references and which I occasionally witnessed, was onesuch fear.
Fear by girls and women of childbearing age of being victimized in an honor
killing was another (King 2008). Feuds between lineages and/or tribes rendered
somepeople, members of thegroupthat hadlast perpetratedafeud-relatedattack,
ontheir guardagainst theinevitablerevenge. I onceraninto aWesternfriendjust
after hehadwitnessedafeudkillinginthemarket. What amazedhim, hesaid, was
theway acrowdhaddrawnimmediately; bystandersdidnot seemtohaveany fear
of beinghit by thestill-in-progress shooting. Hereasonedthat this was becauseof
their condencethatthebulletsweremeantfor aspecicpersonandnotfor random
peoplewhohappenedtobeinthevicinity.
Other fears representedmoreambient danger, but withapersonalizedcompo-
nent. Onesuchsourceof fear wasfromviolent Islamists. AnIslamist familylived
across thestreet fromtheG. family, my Dohuk host household. Thematriarchof
thefamilywouldvisit usnowandthen, vigorouslydrinkingher teaandtalkingin
anopinionated, heatedfashion. SheoftenchastisedtheG.sfor not beingreligious
enoughandafter sheleft they wonderedaloudif sherepresentedaviolent threat.
Thenononememorableoccasionshescreamedandrantedat me, callingmean
indel andtellingmethat I wasgoingtohell andthat sheshouldsendher sonto
kill mebecauseI wasanon-MuslimlivingamongMuslims.
60 Violence
Another Islamist threat came less directly but carried with it great foreshad-
owing. On30August 1998alocal Christianleader warnedmethat hehadheard
fromveryhighP.U.K. sources that asplinter groupof about fteenghtersfrom
within theIslamic Party of Kurdistan (I.M.K.) had just declared their loyalty to
OsamabinLadenandthat, asanAmerican, I shouldbeespeciallycareful because
they hadvowedtokill Americans.
TheTurkish military represented avery different but no less pervasivethreat.
TheTurkish government periodically sent in ominous-looking columns of men
and military hardware, which were stationed near mountain villages frequented
by theP.K.K., Kurdishguerillas ghtingaseparatist war against it. Local people
feared that Turkey would one day lose its restraint and carry out an all-out
invasion. I knew of two young men who had allegedly spent time ghting
with the P.K.K., although their families were extremely secretive about this
becauseof theP.K.K.s archenemy status with theruling K.D.P. Oneof themen
had died after being tortured in one of the K.D.P.s prisons, his distraught
mother toldme. Fromthisfamily, I heardstrident anti-K.D.P. talk, andit wasclear
that for themthat theK.D.P. was asourceof great fear inadditionto thefear of
Turkey that they facedby default becauseof their membersinvolvement withthe
P.K.K.
The P.K.K. often retreated into Iraq and clashed with Iraqi Kurds. One night
whileintheH.svillagehouse, whichwevisitedperiodically, thefamilyandI were
onour rooftopsleepingcushionspreparingtosleepwhendogsinour villageand
thesurroundingareabeganbarkingexcitedly. ItsprobablytheP.K.K., someone
said. If they comewewill hideyouinthehouse, saidanother to me. But I did
not liketheideaof beingsingledout andI thought thiswouldincreasetherisk of
mebeingcaught, soI suggestedthat wesimply remaincalmandthat I not speak
awordof Englishor doanythingelsethat might giveaway my identity as anon-
local.
Noneof usweresurewhat my foreignnesswouldmeantotheP.K.K., nor were
we eager to nd out. Previously I had met anAustralian woman who had been
brieykidnappedbytheP.K.K. Shetoldmethat theyhadmarchedher at gunpoint
toamountainhideawayandthenmadeher sit next toacampreall night listening
to one of their members lecture, in English, about their ideology, history and
struggle against theTurkish government. When they were satised that she had
receivedasufcienteducation, theyurgedher tobecometheir advocateandlether
go unharmed. But then again, the P.K.K. was responsible for numerous brutal
killings, which I had heard about on many occasions and which had affected a
number of peopleI knew.
Everyoneseemedtoagreetotheplanthat wewouldavoidsinglingmeout. J ust
then, atracer bullet arcedacrossthesky. Someonehadshot it fromwhat appeared
tobewithinthevillagelands. Thencameareplyintheformof afewshort bursts
by Kalashnikov refromthemountainbehindus. Welay perfectly still.
My thoughts racedto thestories I hadheardinwhichtheP.K.K. werepainted
as theultimatebogeymen: Four girls havegotteninto taxis inDohuk andnever
beenheardfromagain!! A sheepherder narrowlyescapeddeathwhentheP.K.K.
redon himfromtheridgebehindthevillage! Several of his sheepwerekilled,
andheistryingtoget themtoreimbursehim. DamntheP.K.K.! Andthenthere
wasthetimeI wasinvitedtopaymyrespectsatthehomeof ayoungwidowwhose
husbandandsixothershadbeenkilledthedaybeforebyP.K.K. memberswhohad
burstthroughthedoor of their villagehouseandopenedrewithoutcause. Unlike
thetypical tazi (anevent similar toawake) inwhichmost attendees werevisibly
grief-stricken, at thisoneeveryonesat stone-faced, asthoughtoostunnedtobegin
visibly grieving. The bursts of automatic weapon re were the last event of the
evening. Eventually our anticipation surrendered to sleep. The morning light
revealednothingout of theordinary.
Another sourceof fear besidestheP.K.K. camefromtheP.U.K. (PatrioticUnion
of Kurdistan), therival KurdishgrouptothesouthwithwhomK.D.P. forcessparred
inthemid-to-late1990s. For example, duringmyrstmonthintheregion, in1995,
I hitched a ride in an N.G.O. vehicle to Erbil, a strategic, centrally situated city.
At the time, Erbil was controlled by the P.U.K., but K.D.P. ghters were trying
to capture it (which they succeeded in doing a year later through a shocking
act of treachery: a brief alliance with the Iraqi military). On our return trip, we
weretraversingtheno-mans-landseparatingK.D.P.-P.U.K. linesof control whena
voice came over the U.N.-administered two-way radio warning us of a battle up
ahead. Wewereorderedtotakeanalternateroute, whichwedidatbreakneckspeed
as anAmerican N.G.O. staff member in the front passenger seat received battle
updatesontheradio. Myheartracedaswespedalong. Eventuallywemadeour way
around the conict, the journey narrated throughout by the animated radio
exchange. SuddenlyIraqsviolenceseemedlesstheoretical thanithadtothatpoint.
In1998, thisexperiencerepeateditself withmuchgreater intensity. I wentalong
on a eld visit by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees
(U.N.H.C.R.) staff to a refugee camp. Along the way, we encountered a battle
betweentheK.D.P. andP.K.K. thatwasinfull swing. TheP.K.K. wasonthemoun-
tainside, raining its ammunition down below. On and adjacent to theroad was a
contingent of K.D.P. ghtersfullyengagedinastandoff withtheP.K.K.. Rasheed,
thesenior U.N.H.C.R. staff professional inthegroup, was driving. Wehadcome
upon the battle too fast to make a u-turn without putting ourselves in further
danger, so hedecided to chargeahead, passing K.D.P. ghters running in retreat
along theroad and past abattleoutpost besidearoadsidehousefromwhich the
K.D.P. waslaunchingrocket-propelledgrenadesat theP.K.K. above. Wecouldsee
the smoke rising fromthe impact points. I managed to snap a picture out the
window. Aswecameout theother side, I askedRasheed, I amafraid. But should
I be? How dangerous is this? He shot back with an incredulous tone,
Dangerous? Its very dangerous! I havebeeninmany situations but this may be
62 Violence
theworst!TheP.K.K. isknowntoreontheUN!Wewereridinginavehiclethat
hadlargeUNlettersonbothsidesandthetop. If wehadtriedharder tobeacon-
spicuous target, we could not have been. But somehow, we slipped through
unscathed, withonlypoundinghearts, sweatypalmsandastorytoberecountedto
others.
During the following months, Rasheed was transferred to Amman, J ordan,
whereI learned that hedied, reportedly in an automobileaccident. I and others,
whoknewRasheedhavewonderedsincewhether or not theaccident was staged.
TheIraqi government wasknowntodislikeU.N.H.C.R. andhadonmultipleocca-
sionsaccuseditsemployeesof spying. Iraqi mukhabarat operativeswereknownto
beinJ ordan, andthey werealsoknowntousestagedautoaccidents as amethod
of assassination. But theanswer will never come. Speculationinthefaceof such
potent fear anditspossiblejusticationcancontinueendlessly.
Stories:ViolenceasbothEngenderingandCollapsingof Social
Distance
E. Valentine Daniel (1996: 4) opens his anthropography of violence by
exclaiming, Stories, stories, stories! and argues that it is stories, thetelling of
which constitutes part of the process of the giving, the receiving, the trans-
forming, and thedisseminatingof signs (p. 121) that makehumans human. He
writes of awomanwhosefather hadbeenbrutally killedby beingdraggedby an
army jeep, andwhowantedher story tobetoldtotheworld. Victims expe-
riences are validated when witness is borne by imagined people in an outside
world whereexistenceisimaginedtobeorderedby peaceful means.
Many of my experiences inIraqi KurdistanparalleledDaniels. Peopleseemed
almost desperateto tell their stories to me. I listenedto what sometimes seemed
likeendlessstoriesof suffering. Peoplewouldrecount difcultiessmall andcata-
strophic, recent andinthedistant past, oftenjustifyingthetellingof their storyto
meinparticular withthesamelogic, that I, asanAmerican, somehowrepresented
theworld, asthoughtohavetoldmewastohaverenderedtherecountedevents
aslegitimateandworthyof moreattention, horror, pity, or outragethanif theyhad
gone untold to an outsider. I often felt like a counselor of sorts, whose job it
was to listen to people recounting their problems. The litany of problems was
frequently accompanied by an injunction. Tell your government, I was often
told.
Oftentimesthestoriespeopletoldmeweretragicbut local andspecicandnot
thekindof detailsthat wouldbeof interest toadistant power. Someonesrelative
hadbeenthevictimof atribal feudandI wasurgedtotell mygovernment sothat
it could mediate. Someone had been displaced by the Iraqi governments
Arabization programandI wasurgedtotakedownthenamesanddetailsof the
speciccase. But occasionallythesubject matter wasmoregrandiose. Oncewhen
I wasabout toenter theU.N. buildinginDohuk, amanapproachedmeandcalled
out tome. Thoughwary, I askedhimwhat hewanted. Hewasvisibly nervous. I
haveasecret that I must tell theWest, hesaid. I immediatelyobjected, tellinghim
therewasnothingI coulddo. Heaskedif I wasanAmerican. WhileI wanteddes-
peratelytodenyit, I divulgedanywaythat I was, andthenbegantoturnawayfrom
him. Buthecontinuedtotalk, drawingmeintohisstory: I liveinthegovernment-
controlledarea, hesaid
andI traveledheretoKurdistanjust soI couldtell theUnitedStatesor UnitedNations
about somethingI haveseen. I livebesideaschool for small children. For sometimeI
haveseenpeoplecomingandgoingfromtheschool at night, movingquickly andina
secretive fashion as though they are intent on hiding what they are doing. Most
recently, I saw people carrying heavy items inside. It looked like containers of
chemicals. WhileI hadhadmy suspicionsbeforehand, after I sawthis, I wassurethat
thesearetheIraqi governmentschemical weapons. I think theyarebeinghiddeninor
under theschool becausethisisaplacewheretheUnitedStateswouldnot findthem,
or if they did, they would never bomb the site because they would not want to kill
children.
As themanspoke, I felt anintensefear that this was all aruseandthat I was
seconds away frombeing shot or kidnapped. Time seemed to stand still as the
mans voicedroned on under thehot sun. But when hereached thepoint of the
inevitableappeal, my mindracedasI weighedwhat tosay next. Pleasetell your
government, hebegged. I must get wordtothem. I haveriskedmy lifetocome
hereand tell you this. Themans story seemed genuine. That heseemed fright-
enedout of his wits seemedto lendit credibility; althoughI myself was afraid, I
wasnot shakingandsweatinglikehewas. Hereiswhat I will do, I toldhim. I
cangoinsidetheU.N. building, andtell thepeopleondutyintheU.N.G.C.I. ofce
about you. Youcantell themyour story, andperhapstheycanhelp. I thought this
wasagoodcompromise. Hewasnot abletoenter thebuildinghimself without an
N.G.O. or U.N.-issuedidentitycard. I coulddohimthissmall favor andbeonmy
way.
Though it seemedclear that this was not his ideal, I managedto persuadethe
manthat this was all I couldoffer andheagreed. I went insideandgaveaquick
synopsistotheU.N. staff member ondutyintheradioroom, whowasmyacquain-
tancefrompreviousvisits. Thestory seemsgenuine. I think youshouldhear it,
I urgedhim. But herefused. Wedonot get involvedwithsuchmatters, hesaid
atly. This seemed terribly at odds with what I knew: that another U.N. agency,
UnitedNations Special CommissiononIraq(U.N.S.C.O.M.), constitutedamajor
inspection apparatus that was charged by theSecurity Council with nding and
keepingtrack of theIraqi governmentschemical andbiological weapons. WhenI
mentionedthis, hesmiled. Yes, U.N.S.C.O.M. islookingfor thingslikethis. But
U.N.G.C.I. is not, and wehaveno connection to each other so I would not even
64 Violence
knowhowtoget thisinformationtothem. Pleasetell themanoutsidetogoaway
andforget about this. Despitepleadingwithhimtoreconsider, I got nofurther. I
suspectedthat Hans toofelt fear. After all, howcouldheconvey this information
inasafefashiontothecorrect people, evenif hewantedto?Themukhabarat was
rumoredto haveamethodof clandestinely openingandclosingthesealeddiplo-
maticpouchesthat wereusedtosendostensiblycondential informationbetween
U.N. ofces in Iraq. The two-way radio was out for obvious reasons. A hand-
carriednotewastoodangerousbecauseit couldbesnatchedandread. Evenemail
was too risky because it traveled across phone lines, and email messages were
rumoredto beaccessibleto thosewiththeknowhow. I thought about all this and
wondered if it was in his mind as well, but concealed by the easy answer he
offered, that thebureaucratic meansof accessdidnot exist.
Onceoutside, I found theman waiting and told himthebad news. Therewas
more pleading on his part. Tell the US government, tell President Clinton. He
must know about this. Thousands of people may be killed by these weapons
Saddamishiding.
I cannot, I have nothing to do with the government, I repeated. Finally we
parted. Aswedid, themanhadadejected, hopelesslook onhisface.
Onlyafter leavingthesceneinataxi didI letthethoughtof assassinationor kid-
nappingleavemy mind. Andwhilenormally I wouldhavejotteddownthedetails
of aninterestingencounter likethis inmy notebook, I refrainedout of fear. As I
write this, I amoperating frommemory because I did not record it in my eld
notes. What if themukhabarat hadstolenmynotes?Althoughtheywerestoredon
alaptopcomputer protectedby asecurity programascommonsenseandmy uni-
versities human subjects review committees had required, in certain instances
suchasthisone, fear still preventedmefromrecountinganinterestingevent. This
information, if readbythewrongparty, wouldsurelyhavemarkedmeasaspy, and
couldwell havebeenmy coupdegrace. (Not all of thestory survivedmy efforts
to remember it: Whiletheman had told methenames of his city and neighbor-
hood, I havenoclear memoryof either, onlyahazymemorythat thecityinques-
tionwasKirkuk.)
Stories, stories, stories! Whether or not it was true, by telling his story to
me, the man outside the U.N. building was attempting to insert himself into a
drama of global proportions, the years-long standoff between the Iraqi govern-
ment andtheU.N. Whatever his motive, it seemedclear that hewantedhis voice
heard. It washisgoodfortunetoencounter bychance(or hadhewaitedfor along
time?) oneof thehandful of AmericansinIraqi Kurdistan. HewasanIraqi victim,
livingacrossthestreet frominnocent childrenwhowerepotential humanshields,
andhewastellinghisstory totheworld.
In 2002 a Kurdish friend, a local U.N. employee in Dohuk, was abducted by
Saddamsagents, transportedtoBaghdad, andimprisonedfor twoweeksinalthy
cell. Sounds of torture and execution wafted fromother cells. She was beaten,
threatenedwithdeath, andfrightenedout of her wits. Whiletheywerebeatingher
theytoldher theywantedtodothesameto me Diane, theAmerican if they
couldonly managetocaptureher. I happenedtobeout of thecountry by then, or
I might well havegonethrough thesameexperiencethat shedid. Afterward my
friendwrotealetter to President Bush, whichshesent to theWhiteHouseemail
address, explainingwhat hadhappenedtoher. That is howpublic shewantedher
story to be. Suchwas theheight to whichshewouldseek to haveher story told,
themagnitudeonwhichshefelt theneedto beheard. But shesent theemail on
her ownandtoldmeafter thefact rather thanpleadingwithmeto helpher gain
access to President Bush, as would havebetter t thepattern I had experienced
with others. Perhaps my taking on, albeit unknowingly at the time, the role of
potential torturevictiminacell inBaghdadmeant toher that I nolonger qualied
asaconduit totheworld. Someof thesocial distancebetweenuswascollapsed
by a beating and a wish to capture anAmerican expressed in one of Saddams
torturechambers.
Paradoxically, ubiquitousviolenceanddanger intheeldhassignicant effect
onanthropological practiceandmethodingatheringjustsuchstories. I didnotuse
thevoicerecorder I brought tomy maineldwork stint in1997, becauseI sensed
that it might mark me as an agent of my own government (a possibility and/or
actualityfacedbyother anthropologistsaswell for example, J ennings1998: 58,
Shryock 1997: 4). In1998members of theH. householdnoticedtherecorder for
therst timeas I packedmy belongings inpreparationto leavethecountry. One
conrmed my concerns by shrieking, I didnt know you had that! Although it
was low-tech and probably would havebeen unableto record anything surrepti-
tiously, thelookonher facesuggestedthatshefearedI mighthaveuseditcovertly.
Thefear that somethought, somestatement, somesentencemight escapetheinti-
macyof our conversationsandreachtheearsof Saddam wasripe. BythenI too
hadlearnedto fear inthis way, so their fear didnot surpriseme, but themoment
felt awkwardandunjust as thoughaforceoutsideof ourselves hadintroduced
mistrust intoarelationshipwewereabout toafrmwithafondgoodbye. But the
externalityof thesourceandthelack of control that any of ushadover it, I think,
rendered the situation easier to rectify: I spread my collection of blank cassette
tapes out onthecarpet andinvitedthosewatchingto play them. Sheepishly, they
tried several, verifying that the cassettes were indeed blank. I left with trust
restored but without any recorded audio data fromthat eleven-month period of
eldwork. Stories. Thefull detailedtellingof them, whichthetaperecorder would
havefacilitated, wascurtailedby thethreat of violence.
In his introduction to the edited volume Death Squad: the Anthropology of
State Terror, J effrey Sluka (2000) writes about anthropologist Ricardo Falla,
wholivedinandwroteaboutGuatemalaintheviolence-wracked1970sand1980s.
He describes how Falla placed himself in danger in order to document injustice
committedagainst theMayapopulation. But thewordingof hisdescriptionplaces
66 Violence
distancebetweenFallaandtheMayas. For example: . . . threeMayancommuni-
tieswhereFallaworkedweredestroyed. . . Heedwiththem (Sluka2000: 19).
Theviolent political order under whichI workedwas acollapser of social dis-
tance. Inlight of thisI wouldliketorephrasethisdescriptiontomentionnot only
Fallas vocationas someonewho worked inthethreecommunities but also the
fact that he lived there. Rather than he ed with them, I would note that
everyoneed. It is doubtful that during ight Fallafelt different fromanyone
elseinhis company. His possibilities, thekindFoucault reminds us arecut off
by violence, werethesameastheMayans: either eeor succumb.
I endwithaashbacktothefrighteningdaysof February1998whentheUnited
States was threateningto attack Iraq. Inanticipation, afewpeopleed; oneman
fromZakhodrownedwhiletryingtoswimacrosstheTigrisRiver toSyria, anda
friendfromDohukedtoTurkey. TheU.N. wasrumoredtobesettinguphundreds
of tentsinTurkey inpreparationfor massrefugeeows.
During these days I was often in conversations with residents of Zakho and
Dohukastowhatmighthappen. Wespeculatedastowhether or nottheU.S. would
attack, what theconsequences wouldbewherewewere, andunder what circum-
stanceswewouldee. Membersof my Dohuk host household, theG. family, dis-
cussed how their method of escape would simply involve taking a taxi to the
border. Someoneaskedme, Howwill youescape?I will takethetaxi withyou,
I answered. Laughter brokeout intheroom. TheG.slookedat metoseeif I was
serious. Surely ahelicopter will comefor youbecauseyouareanAmerican. I
insistedthat nosuchthingwouldhappen. Therewasmorelaughter, andI insisted
further.
This conversation was aturning point in our relationship after which theG.s
treatedmeasoneof their own. Theyhadlaughedbecausetheyfounditabsurdthat
I, aU.S. citizen fromwhat they regarded as thesafest placein theworld, would
havetoeewiththem, Iraqi Kurdswhoseliveswereregularlypunctuatedbyight
andrefuge-seekingfromcollectiveviolence. Beforethisconversation, theG.shad
regardedmyidentity/citizenshipcategoryascarryingwithit great privileges, such
ashelicopter rides, andtheir owncategoryasrenderingthemimpotent intheface
of danger. As thelaughter dieddownandthey realizedI was serious, theconver-
sationturnedagaintothepractical. Wherewouldweaskthetaxi driver togo?How
muchwouldwepayhim?Wherewaseveryoneelselikelytohead, sothatwecould
go in adifferent direction? Under thepall of Saddams threat, other possibilities
andsubjectivitieswereclosedoff andwesharedahypothetical taxi.
Acknowledgements
For their feedback, I thank Parvis Ghassem-Fachandi, Natasha Zaretsky and
ChristopheRobert, aswell astheanonymousreviewers. I amgrateful for nancial
support for researchandwritingfromWashingtonStateUniversity, Wenner-Gren
Foundation for Anthropological Research, American University of Beirut, the
Universityof Kentucky, andtheGeorgeA. andElizaGardner HowardFoundation.
For researchpermissionandaccess grantedto Iraqi Kurdistan, I thank Kurdistan
Regional Government ofcials in Dohuk Governorate. Working with research
assistants Zhiyan Rozh and Nazira Mehsin Shamdeen enriched my experience
immeasurably. My deepest gratitude is to the people among whomI lived and
gatheredethnographic information.
Note
References
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Daniel, E. V. (1996), Charred Lullabies: Chapters in an Anthropography of
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Gainesville, FL: University Pressof Florida, pp. 4559.
King, D. E. (2008), ThePersonal isPatrilineal: NamesasSovereignty.Identities:
Global StudiesinCultureandPower 15(3): 31742.
Makiya, K. (1998), Republicof Fear: ThePoliticsof ModernIraq, updatededition,
Berkeley: University of CaliforniaPress.
Randal, J. C. (1999) After Such Knowledge, What Forgiveness? My Encounters
withKurdistan, Boulder: WestviewPress.
Shryock, A. (1997), Nationalismand Genealogical Imagination: Oral History
and Textual Authority in Tribal J ordan, Berkeley: University of California
Press.
Sluka, J. (ed.) (2000), Introduction: StateTerror and Anthropology, in Death
68 Violence
Squad: The Anthropology of State Terror, Philadelphia: University of
PennsylvaniaPress.
U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Public Affairs (1994) Dispatch 5:45. See,
http://dosfan.lib.uic.edu/ERC/brieng/dispatch/1994/html/Dispatchv5no45.htm,
4
TheSenseofWar Songs
BilindaStraight
Look howheroesaremade.
Look howheroesaremade.
Samburucircumcisionsong, performedinthelmBosniaHotel
Since1992, I havepersonally heard, recorded, andstudiedhundreds of Samburu
songs and narratives boasting of bravery and military victory. Thus, of course, I
havelongunderstoodthat thewordscelebrateviolent deeds. Nevertheless, I have
benignly ignoredit onaregular basisandI want totakeyouthroughthat process
of de-emphasis, obliqueness, and sometimes spirited forgetting on the way to
rememberingviolenceinmyownway, andinawaythatrespectstheheterogeneity
of Samburuvalues.
Samburuaretypically describedas pastoralists who raisecattle, camels, goats
and sheep, although in the twenty-rst century they engage in pastoralism in
combination with a variety of means of generating cash income. Thus, to an
outsider stepping into a town in Samburu district, the sight of young Samburu
men and women continues to evoke postcard and coffee-table book images,
as they walk through shops dressed in colorful cloth wraps and decorated
with lavish beaded ornaments and red ochrepigment. Nevertheless, as I learned
myself soon enough, Samburu have long been creating their own version of
a globalizing modernity one that blends evolving technologies and Western
forms of educationwithpastoral practices whichincludelivestock herding, elab-
orateornamentation, lively song performances and an emphasis on young mens
bravery.
In 1992, I was twenty-eight and asinglemother of two young sons, aged six
and eight, whomI took with me to Kenya to do doctoral eldwork. I did not
witness or experience violence in those two years. Instead, I stayed awake on
moonlit nights listening to my Samburu friends singing about it boasting and
joyous:
71
OohListenhowwewent about thesafari sothat youwill know
Andit isnot asafari tofeedourselves
It isnot asafari tofeedourselves
Wepreparedinbushy placeswhereraiderswouldnot beseen
Inthat placeyoucanhardly findfeathers. . . [highwindsblowthemaway]
Weslept wherecolorful birdssleep
Thenour raiders goal wasamountaincalledLekimani whereeverythingisavailable
Thenwerestedat aplacecalledNgaashar agoodshadetree
Wegathered[literally, dug] excellent herbswherethewhitecolobusmonkey stays
That iswheremy belovedraiderstakethebest herbs
That iswheremy belovedraiderstakethebest herbs
Thoseherbs will makethoselmurran[warriors] so hot-temperedthey will never feel
thecold
I arrivedintheeldinlatesummer, 1992, andbyearly1993myeldest sonwas
uent inSamburuandregularly participatedinlatenight songfests evenwhen
grounded, which was amusing even then becausehearing his voicein thedis-
tancewas ahint that hehadsnuck out of his room. My eldest son, likeso many
womenssons, alreadyhadthelmurran-bug,
1
andhehadtheadvantageover his
young Samburu peers that the combination of his whiteness, his uency in
Samburu and his heart like a wild animal (in the view of my Samburu friends)
meant that lmurranwerewillingto let himtagalongwhenthey wereat theriver
puttingontheir nest. (Oil andredochredonot readilywashout of blondhair but
hedidnt care.) I learnedwhat it means to behot-temperedthroughthis childof
mine who feared nothing and soon shared his friends delight in killing birds,
gazelles, andother small creatures.
Samburuboysdreamof beingbravelmurransomedayand, inpreparation, they
mercilessly hunt and kill. Still the child of their mothers, eating the food their
mothersprepare, herdinganimalsclosetohome, theyare, nevertheless, intraining
to becomewildthings of thebushwho will leavetheir mothers to roaminpairs
andpacks, feastingoutdoorswell beyondtheconnesof domesticity. Theexperi-
enceof seeingmysonkneel withhisfriendstodrinkthebloodpoolingintheskin
of afreshly slaughtered goat (and throwing it up on my doorstep afterwards the
rst timehedidit) gavemeavisceral understandingof this readily enculturated
killing passion. At the same time, I shared with other mothers the occasional
humor of it all thepuffeduppostureof lmurranas they walk into asettlement
andplanttheir spearsnear thehousedoor. Theymightimpresstheir girlfriendsbut
wemothers smileat each other becausewehavebreastfed themand cleaned up
their infant urineandfeces.
It was, of course, other motherssonswhoweregoingoff toraidin1994when
I rst heardof SamburuentanglementswiththeneighboringPokot. AndthoughI
was amother, on theeveof turning thirty I was somehowyoung enough to dis-
tancemyself fromit, hearingthesongsinmyears, feelingthepleasureof dancing
72 Violence
withgirlsandwithlmurranwhowooedmelikeanyother youngwoman. Sure, let
thembring back cows. They are more beautiful than theTurkana, the Pokot, or
anyoneelsetheyareraiding. Theideaof actual killingseemedabstract, asfar away
astheplacestheyventuredtoonfoot sothat theycouldbringback talesof differ-
encethat disgustedtheir Samburuhearers.
At themountainof Kapisaewherecattlehavebright colors
Theownersenjoy eatinggreenvegetables
At that moment wedidnot catchwildebeest or rhinoyoung
Weknewwhereour enemieswere
Thoseenemiesbeadtheir girlfriendswithbeadsmadefromvultures eggshells
Andthehair of their eldersresemblesmodelingclay
Couldgirlsreallywear beadsmadefromvultures eggshells?That soundsinter-
esting(andpotentially beautiful) to me, but for thoselmurrans Samburuhearers
itsforeignnesswasabsolute. Somewomenmight travel great distances, but not in
the same way or as intimately close to their non-Samburu others as lmurran.
Instead, theyreliedupontheboastingsongslmurrantell whentheyreturn songs
that describeplaces andpeopleinexquisitedetail, givingavicarious experience
that is bloodless andsafe. Andinsongs meant togoadandshame, girls areoften
blamedfor sendinglmurrancareeningintobravery:
Givemetwowarlikelmurran(warriors) therewithme, infront duringwar.
Nowlistentowhat wedidonour way
Wewent toaplacewheregirlsincitementokill andbringback alot of livestock
Andwiththat, every warrior set off tokill andbringback alot of livestock
And those experiences of girlfriends shaming, then praising and physically
lovingthem, is onethat menwill continueto singabout as they play Ntotoi, a
mancala-likemansgame, anddodder inthecool shade, asSamburusay of old
age:
Spoiledgirls, our Nkasilei of Waso, whichhasspoiledgirls, whichhasspoiledgirls
Sothat they put marks[keloidal scars] ontheir stomachs
Tobecut ontheir stomachs, our Nkasilei of Waso,
Whichgirlstalkedabout, thenwent off tohavemarksput ontheir stomachs
[sothat lmurrangrabthemsensuously].
Perhaps it is not so difcult to understand how songs of bravery can feel
exciting and far away exotic to Samburu feminineears nor very surprising
that youngwomenmight feel empoweredintheact of speakingtheir boyfriends
into courageand action, particularly when life-sustaining cows might behad in
thebargain.
TheSenseof War Songs 73
Nevertheless, whilethis view is recognizableto Samburu and accuratein some
respects, thereisagreatdeal moreatstakehere. LikeRenatoRosaldo, whoseunder-
standingof Ilongotheadhuntingdeepenedwiththeragehefeltathiswifesaccidental
andtragicdeath, myownunderstandingof Samburuviolencehasgrownwithmatu-
rityandthepassingof younglives(thoughnotof thoseascloseasaspouse). Mytask
hasnot beentodevelopanenculturatedunderstandingof another societysculturally
acceptableformsof violencehowever. Rather, myownpassingthroughthelifecourse
hasbrought mecloser toappreciatingthebreadthof theimpact of violence.
Sometimes, it isimportant tolisteninthesilence.
So let us say that it is the 1960s. It is not the Lmooli generation who are
Samburulmurranasit will bewhenI arriveinthe1990s, but rather ageneration
theSambururefer toasLkishili. AndtheyarebeingattackedbytheSomali. Death
is everywhere. It is actually 2003, andI amlisteningtoavery oldfriendof mine
tell mewhat shewitnessedas ayounger woman. But thestory is so riveting, the
experience so fresh for her, that I feel as if I have gone back in time and am
standing transxed in awar that took placelong ago but is happening over and
over againinthetelling. Andhavinggivenbirth, havingraisedchildrenandhaving
lived so closely with Samburu while raising my children I can almost taste the
entirething. I amengagedinanewcollaborativeproject about Sambururaiding,
withquestions that typically elicit thekinds of joys andboastingI haveheardso
many timesbefore. But my frienddoesnot tell meof joy. Instead, shetellsmeof
theraidof another ethnic groupagainst her ownsettlement.
Andtheyshotonewoman, shootingher inthethighwithapistol. Dawnhadjustbroken
and it happened that a child ran, some little girl like this one, while they were just
sitting together. The child ran and left her mother, and then she [her mother] went
runningtolook for her, tolook, andpeopleareshooting, andshecameback, andjust
stayedfor awhile, andthensheranagain. Wherecouldshego andlook for her? And
thenshewasshot shewasshot withapistol.
Her narrativewent on, of awoman whosehand was severed completely, of a
childwhosat motionlessonahideall daynext toadeadoldman, of housesset on
rewith peopleburning insideof them. And of silence. Of silence, as Samburu
lmurrancamebackfromtheir counter-attacktonddeatheverywhereandwomen
standing, toostunnedtospeak muchless sing. They wanderedwordlessly among
thebodiesof thosewhohadbeentheir kin, friends, andneighbors.
Whenthesepeoplecameback, returningthecows, wewerejuststandingtherelikethis.
Andthemajorityof thepeoplehadgone. I dont knowif wewerehowmany, five? Or
six? And as we went towards a woman who lay [dead] over there, this elder now
returnedtousbeforewereached[thedeadwoman]. Hetoldustogo, go. Whydoyou
keeplookingat thesepeoplewhoarefinished? Go.Andwewent. Wehadbeenliving
sideby side[withthedeadpeople], havingbeenhowmany largesettlements?Three.
74 Violence
Inthat instant of hearingher, withall theemotionof thetelling, I felt as if my
collaborator andI shouldbeaskinginsteadwhat violencefeelslikeat home.
Songsof braveryaresungwhenlmurranhavegoneoff intheheat of their wild-
ness to attack the settlements of their ethnic Others and have brought back the
spoilsof victory especially cowsfor their mothersandsisterstomilk.
Even froma distance people will hear that the lmurran of those settlements have
returnedfromaraid, andthat all of themhavecomeback. Theyareall fine. Theywill
behappy whenthey hear singingbecausethey knowthat noonehasbeenkilled.
Wheninsteadlmurrancomelimpingback withdeadcomradesleft behindand
not a single animal for their trouble, they come in silence and are greeted with
silence: If anyonewaskilled, therewill benothing[nosoundsof joy].Andwhen
the news travels to the settlements where mothers and sisters wait for sons and
brothers who arent returning, uncontrollable shrieks and moaning break out
everywhere.
In2007it isimpossibletoignorethesoundsandsightsassociatedwithgrief, as
the death toll in Iraq climbs daily and the media coverage increases apace. For
thoseof uswhohaveyoungadult sons, therealityisall themorehorrifying. Soon
after theU.S. attackedIraq, my brotherseldest sonjoinedtheAir ForceandI felt
likescreamingor sobbingor both. Later, aclosefriends sonwas calledtoatour
of duty inIraqandI couldimagineher absolutefear. Then, last year, my twenty-
two year old fearless son with the heart of a wild thing decided to enlist in the
Army. (I thank theuniversethat herelented.) I amapacist andQuaker but who
fully controlstheir children?
Nooneencourageslmurrantogotowar. Thereisnoonetoencouragethem. Theyjust
goontheir own. Thereisnoonewhowantsthemtogobut they just goontheir own.
They sneak . . . Andit is just thought that they went to visit someneighboringsettle-
mentsbut they havegoneonthat raid.
And here I remember the debate that ensued at the 2006 American
Anthropological Association Meetings during discussion following the session
(Ethnographies of Violence) for whichI presentedapaper. Thepaper that pro-
vokeddebatedescribedthehonor families felt for their sons who diedas suicide
bombers. A member of theaudiencefelt that thepapers focus onhonor gloried
theviolence. Thesessionparticipants responsewas that families wouldnot wish
their childrentokill themselvesandothersinthiswaybutthattheyneededtomake
senseof their deaths. IntheU.S. aswell, thereisanurgency toforgeheroesinthe
midst of actsandformsof violencethat arebeyondanysinglefamilyscontrol.
Samburumothersoftenasktheir sonsnottogotowar. Fatherstoo, counsel their
sonsconcerningwar. If theneedisclear becausethecommunityhasbeenattacked
for example, elders will give lmurran their collective blessing. At other times
eldersarereluctant. However, evenif eldersagreeinsomecasesor cansometimes
beinducedtoblesslmurrantogotowar, mothersarelessequivocal.
Asfor uswhoareold, likemenow, dont I havelmurran[sons]? WhenI hear about a
girl who praises thelmurranI really hatethat. I say, Aish! Shehas sent them. This
girl, this bloody one, when I find her somewhereI will tell her not to say that again
whenshesingstolmurranbecauseI fear shewill sendthemtoraid.
Cananyonetell themtogo? Canyoutell your ownchild[togo]? Hecanbekilled. It
isonly arrangedby children. Becauselmurranarechildren.
They arechildren. They arethechildrenof their mothers andfathers, raisedin
acontext inwhichinterethnic violencecanoccur at any time, andinwhichlive-
stock must also be defended against natural predators like lions, leopards, and
hyenas. Thus, eveninpeacetime, bravery isessential. Andit ismoving.
Inthesummer of 2006, myeldestsonsclosestSamburufriendwasinitiatedinto
lmurran-hood. Since my son could not be there, a proxy fullled the important
commitment of holding my sons friends back as hewas circumcised whilemy
videotaperolledat thefamilysrequest. Theywantedmysontoseeeverythingand
in that way, to bepresent to this singularly important event. Having known this
young man since1992 when my son routinely went off to herd with him, I was
already emotionally involved. But whenheandhis brother sangthroughout their
circumcisionsandthengot upimmediatelyfollowing, wanderingaroundor being
violent becauseof theheat of their hearts, I cried. Mydear friend, theboys father
hadfallenintotranceandlikehissons, couldnot becontrolled. Theoccasionwas
intense, powerful, andsurreal. I hadalreadyattendedother circumcisions, but this
wastheclearest display of bravery I hadseen. Someboysweresilent throughout;
some sang but then allowed themselves to be carried quietly into the house for
healing. Yet hereI was seeingbeforemy eyes themakingof heroes. Thesewere
thekinds of young men who would rush into thefront of battleand bring back
manycows. Thesewouldnot betheoneswhorunback at thehalfwaypoint when
their more experienced comrades tease themthat those vultures over there are
waitingfor themeat youwill become. Nor wouldthey betheones who grabbed
thecowsandranwhiletheir comradesfought theenemy valiantly. Theseyoung
men were the ones who would stay until the end, and bring back every animal,
ghtingwithsuchfearlessbravery that noonewoulddareleavethem.
I felt all of thesethingsasI stoodthere, proudof theseyoungmenI hadknown
solong, proudasamother couldbeproud. Andyet I amapacist. I donot want
asingleyoungmanto kill andmy terror at thethought of my ownsongoingto
Iraqwasnot onlyat thethought that hemight bekilledbut that hewouldbecome
akiller. What sensemight I beforcedtomakeof it?
76 Violence
Yes, [girls] praise thembecause they [lmurran] come singing. They come. Because
they havegoneanddonetheir work there, becausewhenthey kill someone, that one
whohaskilledaperson, peoplecomeandsingasongfor himandsomesmall copper
wiresareput onhiswrist, just likeyouhavedoneaverybigjob, puttingcopper wires
toanoint him. They areanointinghim.
Girlscananoint their braveboyfriendsbecausethey think of killinginpositive
termsrather thanimaginingtheimplicationsof thoseactions. Yes, girlswant. Are
they not children? They arelikethelmurran.Yet wives, sisters, andmothers do
not want tothink about it. Feelingasif it isbeyondtheir control, theysimplypray
to Divinity over andover againandthey feel anguishfor thosewho die, whether
their ownor enemy children.
The cultural value placed on bravery does not cause violence in any simple,
linear sense. Rather, thecausesof violencearemultipleandcomplex, particularly
inaglobalizingworldinwhichlocal, national, andtransnational political realities
convergeandinwhichpovertycanbecomeaneffectivepolitical weaponfor mobi-
lizing people who would otherwise choose peace. When long-term tensions
betweenthePokotandSamburueruptedintoviolencein2005, thewar thatensued
exemplied this increasingly prevalent low-intensity chronic warfare that brings
together small arms(whichhaveall but replacedspearsinthepast decade), local
and national political rivalries, land disputes, and local desires. My story here
evokes those local desires. Nevertheless, in most instances in the twenty-rst
century local desires arenever causedinany simplesensebut are, rather, crucial
mechanisms, particularly aspoverty pushesmany destitutepastoralist youngmen
tosteal cattlewithautomatic weapons onbehalf of Maa-stylebosses. Theseare
what Carolyn Nordstrom calls shadow wars, a clandestine economy mas-
queradinginthiscaseastribalwarfare.Yetif theresultisthatcattlecanbeadded
to adesperatefamilys herdthenheroes may still bemade. Short-termneeds are
tradedfor peaceandthepoverty-war cyclecontinues.
Girlsmark thesecret pathalongwhichstolencattlewill pass unseen, hiddenfor
a time, until they can be safely brought into the family herds. When all is well
andno lmurranarekilled, relievedmothers andyoungwives will thank Divinity
andcount thenewlivestock that will providemilk for hungry children. Withthe
joyof safereturn, andthewelcominginof livestock that are, after all, desperately
neededinthisplaceof chronicdrought, songsof boastingandvictorycanbegood
tohear.
Hoi! That lmurrani wasnamedafter atall cow
of thelmurranweconqueredthat time.
Andwefilledthehomesteadwithcows.
Ohthat tall cow(that warriorsname),
hefilledthehomesteadwithcows.
(Samburupraisesong)
Heroes. Necessary sense-making.
Acknowledgements
This paper andtheethnographic eldnotes it contains arebasedonmy doctoral
work funded by Fulbright I.I.E. and the University of Michigan, individual
researchprojectsfundedbyWesternMichiganUniversity, andmyinterviewscon-
ducted during collaborative research with J on Holtzman generously funded by
WesternMichiganUniversityFacultyResearchandCreativeActivitiesAwardand
National ScienceFoundationSenior ResearchGrant #0413431.
Note
1. LmurranistheSamburuplural for what canberoughlytranslatedaswarrior.
Samburu initiate young men into this status with public circumcision cere-
monies, typically when they are in their teens or twenties. Once initiated,
lmurran are collectively responsible for dangerous long-distance herding and
protecting thecommunities peopleand herds. For Samburu, belonging to the
lmurranisaglamorousstatus.
78 Violence
5
SleepingwithOneEyeOpen
Kristen Drybread
TheCenter for Resocializationof Minors (C.R.M.) is anall-malejuveniledeten-
tionfacilityinoneof thesmallest statesof northeasternBrazil. Fromthehighway
connecting the local airport to the city center, the facility looks innocuous it
couldpassfor aclinic, anaccountingrm, or areal estateofce. Most passersby
havenoideathat thecompleximmediatelybehindthenondescript ofcebuilding
they seefromtheroadhouses males aged1220whohavebeenjudgedguilty of
committing violent acts against human life. I rst visited the institution one
morning inAugust of 2000, on aprivatetour arranged by asociology professor
fromanearby university.
Onthedayof mytour, everyoneat theC.R.M. wasonhisbest behavior. Infact,
theinmatesmadesuchagoodimpressionthat after spendingthreehoursinsideof
thefacility, I endedmyvisit withthefeelingthat astayat theC.R.M. wascompa-
rabletoasummer awayatcamp sometimesannoyingor sad, other timesgrueling
or lonely, butmostlyrather pleasant. Onlythebehavior of mytour guidesuggested
that theC.R.M. might besomethingother thantheutopiait seemed.
The tour was led by a brusque and patronizing psychologist whose behavior
towardsme andtowardstheinmatessheallowedmetomeet suggestedthat the
adultsinvolvedintheadministrationof theC.R.M. werefearsomeandunscrupu-
lousandnot particularlyconcernedwiththewellbeingof their charges. I will call
her M.
1
A short bulldogof awomanwithercehazel eyes, sheintroducedsome
of theimportant lessonsI wouldlearnabout violenceinsideof theinstitution. But,
I only realized this years later and after morethan ninemonths of continuous
eldwork insidetheC.R.M.
79
AGlimpseof Evil
Weneedtostart here, M. toldmeassheledmefromthewaitingroomintoher
dimly lit and sparsely furnished ofce. Everything you need to knowabout the
minors andtheC.R.M. is inour paperwork. I lookedat her skeptically alook
that sheinterpretedasdisappointment. Dont worry, shetoldmewithachuckle,
Ill showyoutheinsidewherewekeeptheminors, but this, shepointedto her
ofce, this is whereall of thework is. A haphazardstack of mildewing, hand-
written folders coveredthepsychologists enormous desk. It was thetwenty-rst
century andsheworkedinastate-runinstitution, yet all of M.s paperwork and
all of theinstitutions documents werehandwritten on amotley assortment of
paper staff members had been ableto nd and securefor use. Resources in the
C.R.M. were scarce and paper, like all other materials necessary for the proper
functioningof thedetentionfacility, washardtocomeby.Yet, M. didnot spareits
use on my account. Throughout my tour she had a small pile of assorted gray,
white, andyellowedsheetsinher handonwhichshewrotefor meanoutlineof the
institutionsprocedures: researchnotes, shecalledthem. Theyweretoprevent me
fromleaving the institution with misinformation. It is very important to docu-
ment thingscorrectly. M. insisted, against mysuggestionthat shenot wastevalu-
ablepaper onmyaccount. Documentationisthemost important thingwehavein
thisplace; it helpsyouseethehistoryandthefactsof eachcase. Andit istheprin-
cipal point of accesswehavetotheminors.
At theC.R.M., relationships betweenprisoners andthestaff members charged
withtheir reformationandevaluationweremediatedbytheinformationcontained
incaseles. Most of themenandwomenhiredto accompany theprogress of
C.R.M. inmatesrarely madeface-to-facecontact withtheteens. Other thanquar-
terly interviewsconductedinthepresenceof security guardsandspecial inquests
calledwhenbreachesinsecurityarose, thetechnical team (thestaff of psychol-
ogists, social workers, security guards, nurses, teachersandadministrators) of the
institutiondidnot comeintodirect contact withtheinmates; theygot toknowthe
interned through the information contained in individual case les. M. had
selected the most logical place to begin a staff-led tour of the facility by intro-
ducingmerst tothisdocumentation. At thetime, I didnot knowthisandthought
it rather strange andannoying that M. andI spent nearly half of my brief tour
lookingthroughthedocumentationof afewselect inmates. Shewas introducing
metotheinstitutionasshewouldanypersonwithacademiccredentials; I thought
she was wasting my time or, worse, trying to deliberately intimidate me by
showingmefolder after folder withthewordHOMICIDIO printedboldly onits
cover.
InM.sofce, I readabouttheinfractionsinmateshadcommitted, theinjuriesthey
hadsufferedandthediseasestheyhadcontracted. I readabout their familyrelation-
shipsandalmostnon-existentacademichistories.AndI readtheconclusionsthatthe
80 Violence
technical team of theC.R.M. had drawn about thepotential of each inmatefor
resocialization. Not oneof theinmates I read about that day was considered to
haveanypotential at all.
Thisishowyoushouldget toknowtheboys, M. instructed, wavingahandful
of lesover her head. Oneof theseleswill tell youtheminorspast, present, and
probably his future. Its all in here, she said, thrusting a le at me. Here.
Everything you need to know about this one is right here in your hands. As I
lookedthroughthemildewinggrayfolder withaname, lenumber, andinfraction
(armedrobbery) writtenonthefrontinblood-redink, M. decidedI shouldtakethe
lehomewithme. Youtakeittoshoweveryoneinyour countryhowwetakecare
of our kids. Sheinsisted, If it stays here, it will just bethrowninthearchives.
Theminor isalready dead. Takehisle. It will helpmeshowtheworldall of the
work wedohere.
I lookedat thegrimpileof papersinmyhandsandthought of tellingM. that it
would be better if I left thembehind; no one in the U.S. (or in Brazil, for that
matter) wouldbeimpressedbyastackof mildewing, handwrittennotes. However,
I kept mymouthshut andobedientlytook holdof thepapers. I didnot want todo
anythingthat couldbereadasdisparagingof her work especiallysinceI hadjust
met her andsensedthat her impressionof mewoulddeterminehowmuchof the
institutionshewaswillingtolet mesee.
M. seemedsatisedwithmyresponse. Letsgoinsidebeforeitgetstobelunch
time, shebarked, signalingfor metofollowher out of theroom. I obeyed. I put
thelein my bag, along with theresearch notes shehad prepared for meand
trailedher thoughthethick blueirondoor abeefy youngmanwearinganincred-
iblywrinkledcottonshirt, at least twosizestoosmall for hisunnaturallymuscular
frameopenedfor us. (Thisyoungman, G., stood actually, leaned apathetically
against thehallway wall unlocking, opening, closing, and relocking thedoor all
daylonginresponsetoentreatiesof staff membersoneither sidetoopentheonly
passagewayleadingfromtheyardintotheadministrationbuilding. Heconstituted
theinstitutionsmaximum-securitymeasures, sincehewasmuchmoredifcult to
get by than the twenty-foot retaining wall surrounding the inner complex.) I
thankedthegatekeeper aswewalkedpast, feelingslightlyintimidatedbyhissheer
bulk. Heshook his headinboredamusement andboltedthedoor behindM. and
me.
Mytourof theinsideof thefacilitydidnotextend100feetbeyondtheporto,
theblueiron door. When weentered, M. walked mestraight to thelargemango
treejust insidethegate. It wassurroundedby acircleof concretethat servedasa
cool benchfor thehandful of adolescentsandMonitors(security guards), willing
toendurebitingreantsfor theinstitutionsonlypublicseat intheshade. A small
crowddrewaroundus. Other thanthefour who camefromwatching abroken
televisionunder thepavilioninfront of thedininghall, theteenscamefrominside
the14small housesarrangedinacirclearoundtheperimeter of theyard. Thisis
SleepingwithOneEyeOpen 81
anAmericanvisitor, M. announced. Shehas cometo study howlucky youare.
Inher country adolescentslikeyouall aregiventhedeathpenalty. Sheturnedto
mewith alook that was, I was sure, intendedto elicit my coercedconrmation,
Isnt that right? Havent they giventhedeathpenalty to kids as youngas tenin
theU.S.? I didnt havetimetorespondtoher questions. Youall dont knowhow
lucky youare, shetoldtheguys gatheredaroundus. Inher country youwould
betreatedlikeadults andwouldbeinprisonfor life. Or youwouldget thedeath
penalty talk toher. Shewill tell youhowlucky youare. Sheis heretoseehow
goodyouhaveit sothat shecangoback toher countryandtell themall about the
work wedofor youhere.
Theguys werecurious. They wantedto knowif M. was tellingthemthetruth.
They alsowantedtoverify themythsthey hadheardabout conditionsintheU.S.
and to learn more about the lives of North Americans particularly mine.
Questionsewat mefromall sides:
They really havethedeathpenalty inyour country?
Dothey givethedeathpenalty toadolescents?
Doall peopleinyour country haveblueeyes, likeyou?
Doesevery oneintheU.S. eat hamburgersandMcDonaldsall thetime?
Doyouhaveaboyfriend?
Dothey givelittlekidsthedeathpenalty for stealingfood?
Doyoulivewhereall themoviestarsdo?
Haveyouever madelovetoaBrazilian?
Kidsdont gohungry inyour country, dothey?
Haveyouever seenMichael J ackson?
Dothey havefavelaswhereyoulive?
Each one of the guys wanted to know something. I was bewildered by the
onslaught of questionsandbyall of thehandswantingtotouchthetworoller ball
pensI heldalongwithmynotebook (whichM. forbidmetowritein shewanted
tocomposemy researchnotesherself). I wasspeechless.
Yes, M. answeredfor me. Itsall true. Anddont let themtouchyour pensor
youwill never getthemback,shesnappedatme. Theyusethemtodrawoneach
other. I think I nodded. I knowthat I clutchedmy notebook tomy chest andjust
stared. I felt like I had suddenly become a curiosity on display at some sort of
humanexhibitionandI didnt knowwhoor what tofocusontosettletheswirl of
attention. M. chuckledatmydiscomposure, readingitasnervousness. Theydont
seemanywomenhere, shewhisperedmenacingly. Becareful. Someof themare
rapists. Most are killers. You wouldnt want any of themto get too close. She
repeatedwithdramatic emphasis, Becareful. Bevery careful.
Lightening her tone and raising her voice she added, But dont be afraid.
Dont worry; they wont do anything to you while Imhere. They all like me.
Isnt that right? M. demanded of the boys surrounding us. Predictably, they
nodded.
82 Violence
I wasnt convinced: I did not nd her a likeable person and thought that the
gruffness withwhichshetreatedtheguys probably didnot winher their endear-
ment either. AndI wasnt worried. Blindedbymyassumptionsthat juveniledeten-
tioncenterswere, theworldover, full of kidswhohadcommittedminor infractions
likeshopliftingor excessivetruancyandconvincedthat thepersonableyoungmen
infrontof mecouldnotbetheevil monstersM. suggestedtheywere, I didnotfeel
fear. What I felt duringmy tour withM. wasawkward: overwhelmedby all of the
attentionI wasreceiving, anduncomfortablewiththepsychologistsunmistakable
effortstomanipulateandtointimidateme.
The inmates did not scare or even disconcert me. Unlike M., they were not
openly rude or threatening; their inquiries were rife with curiosity, not danger.
Eventhequestionsput tomeanonymouslyfromthecrowdabout mysexual avail-
abilitystruckmeasbenign: Doyouhaveaboyfriend?Haveyouever madelove
to a Brazilian? These were among the rst questions asked by every Brazilian
manor womanI met. Hearingthemposedwithinthecontextof theC.R.M. didnot
alter their meaning tomeatleast. ThediscomfortM. detectedhadlesstodowith
thequestionsI wasbeingaskedthanwiththeusesshewasmakingof mypresence
at theC.R.M. Against mywill, shewasusingmetocajoleandtofrighteninmates.
I didnot likethis. Nor didI likeM. I didnot trust her whileinher presenceI felt
anasty forebodingthat put meonconstant edge.
Theendof mytour broughtwithitasensationof enormousrelief. Freedomfrom
M.s coercion and pushiness mademefeel likeI had narrowly escaped danger. I
wondered if everyonewho worked at theC.R.M. was as menacing, manipulative
andarrogant asshe? I hoped, for thesakeof theinmates, theywerenot.
Thefollowingday, I spoketothesociologyprofessor whohadarrangedthevisit
and told her that even though I was grateful for thetour, I hoped I would never
encounter M. again.
NotQuiteWelcome
Despitemy misgivings about M. (or perhaps becauseof them), I returnedto the
C.R.M. eighteen months later to study daily life in the institution. I had not
plannedto conduct extensiveethnographic researchinsidethefacility but onthe
second day of my second trip to northeastern Brazil, I serendipitously accompa-
niedafriendto theofceof theStateSecretary of J ustice, themaninchargeof
administratingall thepenal facilitiesinthestate includingtheC.R.M. Curious,
heaskedmewhatI wasdoinginBrazil. I explainedthatI wasconductingresearch
onthediscoursesandpracticesof adultswhohaveselectedtoworkwithBrazilian
childrenat risk. Hesuggestedanalternativeproject: that I studytheworkingsof
theC.R.M. andthelives of its inmates. Tolaunchthis suggestedproject, hegave
meacarteblanchetothedetentioncenter.
The following day, after reading the Secretarys letter, E., the director of the
C.R.M., simply told the beefy man in charge of unlocking, opening, and
(re)lockingtheportothat hewastolet mepasswhenever I wantedto, fromthat
moment forward. The director set no parameters to my movements or activities
withintheprisonyard; hesimply suggestedthat I speak withR., thestaff social
worker who occasionally directed research for thesenior thesis projects of soci-
ologystudentsfromthelocal university. Tomygreatrelief, M. hadbeendismissed
fromtheC.R.M. for strikinganinmateonly afewdays after takingmeonatour
of the facility and no one took it upon himself or herself to replace her as my
guide.
Part of mewantedto takeadvantageof thefact that not asinglestaff member
haddemonstratedinterest inmeor my work; I wantedto enter theyardimmedi-
ately toseeif I couldnegotiateresearchinsidewithout theassistanceof theinsti-
tutionsauthorities. But, I didntwanttoalienateadultswhomI mighthavewanted
to call on later for information or support, so I followed E.s advice: before I
enteredtheC.R.M. yardfor thesecondtime, I sought out R. After meetingmeand
hearing me explain how and why I was embarking upon research inside the
C.R.M., heofferedmefull accesstotheinstitutionsarchives, suggestingthat the
truth about eachinmatecouldbefoundinhiscasele. EchoingM. hetoldme,
Its not necessary to exposeyourself to thedangers of theyard, especially since
most of theinmatesaremanipulativeanddishonest. If youwant toknowthetruth
about themyouneedtoreadtheir evaluations. Theserepresent thetruth thepro-
fessional assessment of thetechnical team.
I thankedR. for hisoffer andagreedthat it wouldbeinterestingtolater explore
theinmates caseles. However, I insisted that I would liketo becomefamiliar
withthestoriesof thevariousinmatesby talkingtotheinmatesthemselves. You
wont learnanythingof valuefromthem, R. warned. I toldhimI was willingto
takethat risk. Realizingthat I was set upondialogwiththeinmates, henext sug-
gested that I administer my surveys from inside the Room of Reection, the
former punishment cell that had recently been converted into a storage closet.
Having only dealt with sociologists and social workers conducting quantitative
research, heassumedthat my investigationwouldinvolvethespeedy administra-
tionof surveysor questionnaires.
I was given two days two draft a list of questions that I would like to ask of
inmates. Withsolittleexperienceinsideof penal institutionsingeneral andinside
of theC.R.M. inparticular, I struggledtocompileagenericlist of queries. R. did
not hidehisamusement whenhereadmy list. Yousureyoudont want tobegin
withtheles? heasked.
AgainI refused. So, R. tookmeandmyquestionstotheRoomof Reectionand
gaveanannouncementtothoseinearshot, KrisisanAmerican. Shewill beinside
of theRoomof Reectiontoask thoseof youwhowant totalk toher someques-
tions. Itsaninterview. Withthat, heleft mealone.
84 Violence
Inthecourseof thenextninedays, onlyfour inmatesapproachedme. I waslater
told that this was becausetherest generally suspected I was somehow afliated
withM.
Whenshecamebacktherst time, N., ashort andstocky17-year-oldwith10
tattoosand4murder convictions, toldL. andthegrouphehadcalledthemtogether
tointroducethemtothetiny14-year-oldfromhisneighborhoodwhohadjustbeen
sentenced to detention for armed robbery, I thought shewas going to takethat
crazypsychologistsplace. I thought theywerelikethis. Heraisedhisright hand,
holdinghisstubbyindexandmiddlengerstightlytogether. Thegrouplaughed
my negativeopinionof M. wasby thenwell known.
But it wasnt just that, J., his equally imposing friend, added. It was also
becausesheusedtocall usintoTheRoomof Reectionfor interviews just like
thepsychologistsandsocial workersinsidetheadministration[building].
Yeah, weall thought you wereoneof them, Wilson agreed. Thats why we
never went. Theysuck. Itsnotthatall of themarebad, butyoucantgetnear them.
You cant talk about just anything, whats on your mind. If you talk too much
theyll usewhat yousay against you.
N. agreed. Thesubjectswetouchonwithyou, wecouldnt touchwiththem.
ThatsbecauseI amheretolearnabout your lives, not toevaluateyou, I said.
Itsadifferent thing.
Now. But it didnt seemthat way when you started, Wilson responded. The
grouplaughed. Withabit of effort, sodidI.
I wantedto forget thetwo weeks I hadspent inTheRoomof Reectionat the
beginning of my research insideof theC.R.M. in part becauseit was such an
enormous wasteof my time, but also becauseit reminded meof theonly timeI
hadfelt real fear whileinsideof theinstitution. (I will returntothisfear later.)
Thankfully, thisuncomfortablestageof myresearchwasshort lived. A newand
much more rewarding phase began shortly after, when I returned from an
unplanned, extendedhiatus: I spent twoweeksinthehospital. After my release, I
camebacktotheinstitutionwithconcretequestionsabout theplaceof violencein
theeveryday lives of inmates and their families, areinvigorated resolveto learn
about theinmates lives, areputation among themfor integrity, and amark that
earnedmestatusamong andameasureof solidarity with them: thescar from
anearly-fatal knifewound.
AStabof Insight
WhilehospitalizedI learnedthatconnementinahigh-securitypenal institution
does not mean isolation from external networks of information. Sometimes
inmates knowmoreabout thesagas unfoldingoutsideof their prisonhousethan
they know of theconicts brewing within. And, conversely, mothers, lovers and
friendsof prisonersoftentimesknowmoreabout thedramasinsideof penal insti-
tutionsthandotheinmatesthemselves. Wordsmovewithrelativefreedomthrough
prisonwalls includingthoseof theC.R.M. So, beforeI hadachancetotell them
about it myself, the institutions inmates knew that I had been knifed. And, as
they toldthestory amongthemselves, they suppliedmewith thereputation of a
badass.
Mywoundingwasnot nearlyasglamorousasthestoriesthat wereinventedby
the boys about it. On the Sunday prior to what was to be my third week of
researchat theinstitution, I sufferedaknifewoundwhilebuyinggroceriesat the
supermarket. Passingbythesupermarketsdisplayof knives, I rememberedthat I
hadbeenintendingtobuyoneI couldreservefor cuttingnon-meat items(I ama
vegetarian and was living with a carnivore). Single serrated kitchen knives are
commonly sold without packaging in Brazil; if a customer wants to buy a
prepackagedknifeshemust by aset of three. SinceI only neededoneknifefor
vegetables, I includedasingleoneto my basket without reectingtoo muchon
thepotential hazardsit posed. I assumedthat thestorewouldnot sell unpackaged
knives if they presented a signicant danger to customers. The supermarket
checker presumably did not consider theknifea particularly threatening object
either, becauseheput it in awhiteplastic sack without covering theblade as
storepolicyrequiresheshould. Hetreatedit asanyother innocuousitemfor sale
at thegrocery.
I only began to realizehow dangerous atableknifeis when I suddenly felt a
warm, wet sensation in the region of my appendix as I picked up my bags and
begantoexit thesupermarket. I lookeddowntoseethat thesimpleact of walking
hadset mygrocerybagsinmotion, andthat withthemomentumcreatedbyoneor
twosteps, thebagshadswungagainst mystomach, providingtheknifebladewith
enough force to pass through the layers of skin and muscle that make up my
abdomen. Thehandleof theknifewasstickingoutof mymidsection, buttheblade
was nowhere to be seen. Blood and blubbery white tissue intestines? were
sneakingout of thesides of thewound, poolingaroundthehandleof theknife. I
pulledtheweaponout inapanic, surethat I wassoontodie.
Fortunately, I survived but withnothankstothesupermarket whichrefusedto
assist me, or theprivatehospitals, whichrefusedtoaccept my medical insurance.
I was saved by an emergency operation performed at the State-funded hospital,
generally reservedfor theindigent. Followingsurgery, I was heldinthehospital
for several days of monitoredrecovery. Thehospital was unbearably hot, danger-
ously overcrowdedandinadubiousstateof hygiene. It rangwiththecriesof rel-
atives whose loved ones had recently departed. Its corridors were lled with
patientsforcedtolieonthehallwayoorsbecausenospacesremainedinthebed-
roomsandthehospital didnot haveenoughmattressestogoaround. I waslucky:
my condition was sufciently dire to qualify me for a mattress. It was not,
however, severeenoughtoearnmeapermanent bedinsidearecoveryroom. I was
86 Violence
placedonarollingcot inthehallway of afemaleward, wherefreshair andhos-
pital visitorswereabletocirculatefreely aroundme.
I was not thevictimof ateenagedmugger or apotential rapist but thehospital
records hangingabovemy beddidnot say this. They toldthestory of thewound
itself, not of its cause. So, thevisitors who read about thetreatment of theknife
woundinmyhospital chartsall drewtheir ownconclusions or, rather, causes; they
inventedthestory of thewoundingfor themselves. Femalestrangerswhodaredto
speak tomeabout thewoundassumedthat it wastheoutcomeof adomestic skir-
mish and urged me to forgive the boyfriend or husband they imagined to have
inicted thewound. Most men assumed that I was thehapless victimof apurse
snatchingandurgedmeto usemorecaution. Thoughnoneof themever spoketo
meinthehospital, therelatives of theinmates of theC.R.M. must haveimagined
that mywoundwastheoutcomeof aruninwithoutlawsinwhichI wasstrongand
savvyenoughtohaveescaped, but toughenoughtohaveconfronteddanger. Thisis
thestorythat arrivedat theC.R.M. Intheeyesof itsinmates, thethree-inchscar on
my abdomen was a mark of confrontation of fearlessness and attempted self-
defense. No matter howmany times I toldthemabout theevents that actually led
tomyscar theyrefusedtobelievemystory. Theyinsistedthat thestoriesthey or
their familymembers hadconcoctedpossessedgreater truth-value.
Havingsurvivedaknifewoundandexperiencedthepain, fear, andadrenaline
rushof aconfrontationwithdeathgavemestatusamongtheinmates. It alsogave
us an impetus to talk about danger, suffering and survival; for therst fewdays
followingmy returnto theinstitutionto continueresearch, weall sat aroundthe
prisonyardtellingeachother thestoriesof our scars.
GoingInside
WhenI resumedmydailyvisitstotheinstitution, bothR. andE. hadbeenreleased
fromtheir positions. Under thenewdirector, B., my placewithintheC.R.M. was
tacitly, yet resolutely, (re)dened. For reasonsthat werenever madeexplicit tome,
I was toldthat I was nowtostay insidetheprisonyardwiththeinmates, andout
of theAdministrativebuilding. Nolonger wasI allowedtotakemylunchwiththe
technical team, eatingawell-seasonedmeal fromglass plates andusingsilver-
ware. Instead, I wastoldtoeat withtheboys, intheyard, usingwhatever plasticor
paper container I couldndtoholdmyfood(usuallysomethingwell usedandbor-
rowed fromone of the inmates). As it was located inside of the administrative
building, I was forbiddentousetheinstitutions only femalerestroomandhadto
either go homeor crouchabovethelthy toilet intheSecurity ofcewhenever I
hadtopee. Eventhoughit wasaccessiblefromtheyard, I wasforbiddentoenter
theRoomof Reection, aplacenowreservedfor thosewithtechnical quali-
cations.
ThemoretimeI spent insideof theC.R.M., themoreI seemedtobeidentied
as oneof theinmates. WhenI walkedthroughtheadministrativebuildingonmy
waytoor fromtheyard, conversationstopped asthoughstaff conversationswere
unt for my ears. At holiday parties andpresentations, I was madetosit withthe
inmates. MyAmericanmoneytrumpedmyoutsider statusinthat I wasstill asked
tocontributetopurchasingparty snacks andfavors; nevertheless, I was nowalso
includedonthelist of incarceratedrecipients deserving of holiday treats. With
increasing frequency, I was lectured and punished as if I were one of the boys
every timeaminor disciplinary infractionoccurred, or was rumoredto beinthe
worksinsideof theinstitution. EverydayI spent at theC.R.M., I wastreatedmore
andmorelikeacriminal.
And, everydayI spent at theC.R.M., I becamelessandlessinnocent. Although
I never participatedinacriminal act whileconductingresearchat theinstitution,
I becameincreasinglyawareof andenmeshedin theillicit activitiesthat struc-
turerelationswithintheprisonyard. Inorder toestablishmyownplaceasaninde-
pendent and trustworthy observer within the C.R.M., I was required to make a
decision: I had to choosewhether or not to report theminor crimes I witnessed
insideof thecompoundtotheinstitutionsauthorities. I decidedtokeepmymouth
shut. I silentlywitnessedactivitieslikedrugdeals, prostitutionandthehatchingof
escapeplots, all thewhilestruggling with my conscienceand with my desireto
questiontheinmatesastothewisdom, safety andethicsof their actions.
Theboys very purposefully put ondisplays of rulebreakingandcriminality in
front of metotest my ability tokeepmy mouthshut. Theinfractions I was made
towitnesswererelativelyminor andwouldnot haveledtoexcessivepunishments
hadI squealed, precisely becausetheboysdidnot knowwhether I wouldnark on
them or not. By silently witnessing minor crimes, I established myself as a
chegada, awomanwhocouldbereasonably trusted.
Cabuetagem, or narking, isanoffensepunishablebydeathinsideof theC.R.M.
Duringtheperiodof myresearch, inmatesstagedupwardsof sixrebellionsandput
to death seven of their peers for disrespecting theunwritten codeof silencethat
permitsthemtoestablishandenforcetheir ownhierarchies, codesof conduct, dis-
ciplinary procedures, and economic relations within the institution. Stepping
insidetheyardof C.R.M. isabit likevisitingtheislandinLordof theFlies. The
boys are in a constant struggle for power and they ght according to their own
rules; dominant societys normative expectations and regulations do not govern
conduct within the institution unless someone squeals, thereby inviting adult
authoritytoassumecontrol inaparticular situation. Inorder togainthecondence
of theinmates, I hadtodemonstratethat I respectedtheir rulesandwouldnot seek
theinterventionof adult authoritiesif they brokeinstitutional regulations. Hence,
I was put through aseries of minor trials in order to provethat I couldkeepmy
mouthshut. AsI passedeachtest, I wasmadeawarethat I wasbeingassessedand
that, throughmybehavior, I wasgainingtheir condenceandrespect. I usedthese
88 Violence
momentsof spokenevaluationtocommunicatetotheboysthatI wouldnotrelease
informationthatjointswerebeingsoldclandestinelythroughouttheinstitutionand
wouldnot reveal to authorities that guards regularly arrangedgirls to makeinti-
mate visits withinmates inexchangefor afee authorities suspectedthat both
activities wereoccurring but had no concreteproof. I assured theinmates that I
wouldnot turnmyobservationsor their wordsover toauthoritiesasevidencetobe
used against them even if I did not personally condone their actions. I also
assuredinmates that I wouldnot pass ontherumors I heardbrewingintheinsti-
tutionabout possibleescapeattemptsandghts guardswerepaidtocollect and
disseminatesuchinformation. However, I also toldtheinmates that couldnot lie
about observedactsof physical violence; if someonewasattackedinmypresence,
I wouldhavetobear witness. Hence, I onlyever sawoneinmategethitbyhispeers
during theentiretimeI was in theinstitution and his beating was adisciplinary
measuretakenby inmateswho(wrongly) accusedhimof stealingfromme.
I always brought my bagwithmeintotheyardof theC.R.M. At rst, this was
becauseI wantedtohavemynotebookandsoundrecordingdevicewithmeincase
I neededeither oneof themfor myresearch. Intime, thepracticetook onanaddi-
tional purpose. Staff memberslocktheir belongingsawaybeforeenteringtheyard
becausethey consider theboys to beinveteratecriminals; they arecertainthat to
enter theyardwithabagistoinvitetheft. After receivingseveral suggestionsfrom
staff members to guard my belongings in theadministrativebuilding, I realized
that I wastheonlyadult whobrought anythingwithher intotheprisonyard. From
that moment of epiphanyon, I begandeliberatelytocarrymybagintheyardwith
measadisplayof trust. Byenteringtheyardwithmybag, I hopedtodemonstrate
totheboysthat I didnot presumetheir criminality. It wasmywayof allowingour
encounter to begin with the presumed trust that underlies and perhaps makes
possible friendly relationshipsbetweenequals.
My bag became an incredibly important symbol in the institution. Each day
inmates would ritually taketheir turn looking through its contents, commenting
upontheitemsthat hadbeenincludedor excludedfromonedaytothenext. Some
of theboystoldmethat theyfelt proudwhentheywerelookingthoughmybag; it
wastheonlyexperiencetheyhadever hadof feelingtrusted. OnedayI enteredthe
institution with R$25. A few hours later I was called into the administrative
buildingandaskedtomakeacontributiontoapartythatwasbeingplannedfor the
inmates; I gaveR$5. WhenI returnedtotheyardwithmybag, theabsenceof R$5
was noticed. Without consulting me, theboys decided that themoney had been
stolenandthatthethief hadtobepunished. WhileI wassittingontheporchof one
of thedormstalkingtoanewinmate, agroupof boysbrought theindividual they
decidedwastheculprit over andput onavisibledemonstrationof punishinghim
infront of me. AssoonasI wasabletounderstandwhat wasgoingonI put astop
to the beating and explained the reason for the missing money. With my
prompting, theaggressorsapologizedtotheir victim. However, they insistedthat,
as far as they were concerned the beating had been necessary. Now everyone
knowswhatwill happenif theydisrespectyou,J., oneof thepunishers, explained.
I wishthat thebeatinghadnever happened. However, it wouldbedishonest to
by omission pretendthat it never took place. It did. Andit was ameaningful
event principally becauseit wasbothsocommonand, yet, soextraordinary.
PerceivedDangers
Ofcial records showthat ghts andbeatings takeplacedaily withintheC.R.M.
The institutions incident log reads like a detailed description of a street brawl:
beatings, brokenbones, severedlimbs blood, anger, revenge. Despiteall of the
reportedviolenceinsideof theC.R.M., duringtheninemonths I was allowedto
freely enter theyard, I only witnessedthisoneact of physical aggression. Several
rebellions afew of which werefatal occurred whileI was conducting eld-
work, but I was not present at asingleone; they always took placeonthedays I
was working at one of my secondary research sites (the juvenile court, for
example). Hence, it was difcult for meto reconciletheviolenceI heard about
withmy experiences intheinstitution. Perhaps this explains why theonebeating
I witnessed becameso signicant to me: it proved to methat theviolenceI had
alwaysheardabout insideof theinstitutionwasreal andthat thefact that it never
occurredwhenI wasintheinstitutionwasremarkable.
Theght alsoconrmedwhat theguardswhopolicedtheinterior of theC.R.M.
hadbeentellingmesinceafewweeks after my returnfromthehospital: without
deliberately setting out to alter theinstitution, I somehow intervened to makeit
lessviolent at least temporarily.
Our jobhasbeenawholelot easier sinceyoucame, P., theheadmonitor was
fond of telling me. Heand his teamof ten men wereresponsiblefor preventing
escapes, controlling violencebetween inmates and maintaining order within the
yardof theC.R.M. Unlikeadministrators, theywereinconstant dailycontact with
the institutions inmates. And, unlike administrators, they seemed to genuinely
appreciatemy presenceinsideof theC.R.M. Betweenhisquestionsabout women
andbeer intheUnitedStates, P. repeatedlymarveledatthecalmingeffectmypres-
enceseemedtohaveonlifeinsideof theC.R.M. Noneof themwoulddreamof
doing something whileyourein here. They wouldnt want to do something that
wouldhurt youor get youkickedout; theotherswouldkill anyonewhodid.
P. was in his early thirties and had been aguard at theC.R.M. for nearly 10
years. Hehadbeenthemost senior monitor ondutythenight therst inmatewas
murdered inside of the C.R.M. and he had witnessed the vast majority of the
rebellions and murders that subsequently took place inside the facility. When I
rst beganmyresearch, P. hadtreatedmewithcoldreservation; heatlytoldme
that he feared my presence would be the catalyst for jealous rivalries between
90 Violence
sex-starved young inmates, vying for my attention. But, he later admitted,
once I realized you werent responding to their songs [their advances] and
werent lettingthemintimidateyou, I startedtoseethat they likedhavingyouin
herebecauseyou treat themlikenormal people. You talk to themlikethey are
humans. When youre around, when youre here, theyre not just criminals. Its
goodfor them. Anditsmucheasier for ustoo. Whenyoureherewecanrelax
abit. Theplacejust feelssafer.
Administrators, who rarely if ever enteredtheyard, didnot shareP.s point
of view. Ninemonthsintomyresearchat theinstitution, theysuddenlydecidedto
block my access to theyardof theC.R.M., claimingthat it was ameasuretaken
for myownprotection. Thosekidsaredangerous, thewomanwhoinformedme
that my access was beingterminatedexplained. Youthink youaresafebut you
never knowwhentheyaregoingtoturnonyou. Theycouldtakeyouhostage. They
couldrapeyou. Wecant let that happen. It wouldbeaninternational scandal. So,
wecant allowyouunlimitedaccessany longer. Your researchisover.
Shepolitely toldmethat I couldreturnto ask administrators questions andto
interviewthem at their convenience(apolitewayof warningmethat I wouldbe
turnedawayif I showedupatthedoor of theC.R.M. again). WhenI askedher how
sheandtheother administratorssuddenlycametotheconclusionthatI wasinper-
sonal danger after having passed nine months inside of the institution, in close
contact with the inmates and without ever having been publicly threatened or
endangered, shesimply replied, Youhavebeenherelongenough. Youhaveseen
all you need to see. Your presence inside is dangerous. After a brief pause she
added inwhat seemedtometobeanafterthought, Theresalwaysthethreat of
rape.
Threats
Anyone who knows anything about life inside of Brazilian prisons would know
that rapeis oneof theleast possibledangers facedby awomaninsideof amale
penal institution. Oneof thekey tenants of theunwrittencodeof conduct among
Brazilianconvicts is that rape(of awoman) is anunpardonableoffense, punish-
ableby sodomy andsummary execution. Inmost Braziliancorrectional facilities,
administrators havetakento secludingconvictedrapists inspecial, securewings,
in order to prevent other convicts fromenforcing the extrajudicial punishments
demanded by their own codes of honor. TheC.R.M. is no exception. Imagining
themselves as hardened criminals and the C.R.M. as a prison, the inmates have
internalized therules of conduct within adult prisons and unanimously maintain
that, Thedestiny of arapist is toget fuckedanddance thelatter apoliteway
of sayingtodie. Boyssentencedtoconnement intheC.R.M. for havingcom-
mittedacts of rapeareeither secludedfromother prisoners, or strict secrecy and
silence are maintained about their actual infractions by juvenile justice profes-
sionals who encourageteens convictedof rapeto manufacturealternateexplana-
tions whentellingpeers about theacts whichleadto their internment. Wordof a
rapeconvictionwouldmeandeath.
Beingtakenhostage, sufferinginjuryinarebellion, fallingvictimtotheft: all of
thesewerepossible, but unlikely, hazards I admittedly faced each timeI entered
theC.R.M. Rape, however, was not adanger. Despitethefact that I periodically
received love notes and invitations to feel what its like to trepar com um
bandido(fuckagangster), I wasalwaysabletodeectsuchovertureswithcandor
or laughter as thesituationrequired. Theboys outwardly respectedmy no. It
wasquitelikelythatseveral inmatesthoughtabouthavingsexwithme, butI rmly
believedthat that therewas not asingleonewho wouldhaveactually rapedme.
And even if an inmatehad entertained thethought of rape, I was certain that he
wouldnot havehazardedit insidetheC.R.M.; to rapeawomanintheinstitution
wouldhavemeant death andall of theinmatesknewit.
I learnedthis crucial bit of informationfor myself inthemiddleof my second
weekof researchat theC.R.M. (onlydaysbeforetheknifeincident). L., oneof the
four inmateswhoagreedtospeak withmeintheRoomof Reection, interrupted
our interviewinorder tomakeasexual proposal. Hisrst propositionwasverbal,
direct andnot overtly offensive. I politely said, no.A secondpropositionimme-
diatelyfollowed; it wasmorebrazenineveryway. Again, I refused. Withhisthird
proposition, thephysicallyintimidatingseventeenyear-oldbegantousehissizeas
ameansof inuence: herosefromhischair andbegantoroundthedesk that sep-
aratedus. I, too, stoodandrepositionedmyself sothat thetablewasagainbetween
us. I alsomademywaytowardsthedoor of theRoomof Reection, knowingthat
his advances wouldbecheckedby thepresenceof other inmates andof course
theguards.AssoonasI camewithinreachof thedoor, I pushedthetabletowards
L., hoping to pin himagainst the opposing wall as I lunged for the doorknob.
Unfortunately, thedoor waslockedfromtheoutside.
A small garden separated thedoor into theRoomof Reection fromthegate
leading into the prison yard. R. had directed a guard to remain in the garden,
outsidetheunlocked (in theory) door, in casean inmatewho had comeinto the
Roomof Reectionfor aninterviewthreatenedme. FeelingthreatenedbyL., and
realizingthat I wasunabletoopenthedoor myself, I calledfor theguard. Hedid
not respond.
L. seemedunconcernedby my cries to theguardfor help. It was as if hewere
condent that no onewouldanswer my request. Hemadehis fourthproposition,
thistimeattemptingtosweetenit withacaress. I slappedhishandaway frommy
facewith my left hand and gavehimahard smack on thecheek with my right.
Stay away fromme, I warned, not quite sure that my voice was unwavering
enoughtodemonstratethecourageandresolveI wantedit to. Grabbingmyshoul-
dersandshovingmeagainst thewall, L. madehisfthproposition, endingit with
92 Violence
akiss on my cheek. I respondedwith ast to his solar plexus andakneeto his
groin. Lyingontheoor, gaspingfor breathandclaspinghispain, L. yelled, Open
thedoor for this bitch. A key immediately turnedinthelock. I left theRoomof
Reectioninahurry. I did, however, noticetheguardwhowassupposedtobeon
duty standinginthegarden, withhis arms crossedover his chest andabigsmile
onhisface.
Months later I learnedthat theguardhadbeenpaidto lock L. andI insidethe
Roomof Reection. L. himself confessedthat hehadgiventheguardR$20(about
$7) inthehopesthat I wouldagreetogivinghimsexual graticationinlieuof his
granting me an interview. (Allegedly, one or two of the female members of the
C.R.M.s technical team had been known to accept similar offers fromL. and
other inmates.) Inthemidst of alengthy apology for theincident L. said, I want
youto knowthat, inno way, wouldI haverapedyou. I knowthat I touchedyou
andthat I probably scaredyou, but youhavetobelievethat I wouldnt haveraped
you.
If L. hadtoldmethisatthemomentof theincident, thereisnowayI wouldhave
believedhim. I hadfelt likeI wasabout tobeviolated. I hadbeenafraid. However,
bythetimeL. workedupthecouragetoapologize, I hadspent enoughtimeinthe
C.R.M. toknowthat hewasnot likely tohaverapedme. Not only wouldhehave
beenafraidof thepunishmentshisfellowprisonerswouldhavepileduponhim
hewouldhavealsoknowthat(unbeknownsttomeatthetime) I wasunder thepro-
tectionof themost fearedgroupof inmates insideof theC.R.M. They wereve
youngmenwho sawinmy project to collect their stories thepromiseof immor-
tality they would have, oneof themassured me, killed L. if hehad driven me
away. Thankfully, L. was awareof this ontheday hepaidto belockedinsidethe
Roomof Reectionwithme.
Giventhisexperience, theadministrationssuddenconcernthat I was, after nine
months of research, suddenly indanger of rapeseemedto menothingmorethan
an excuse fabricated to remove me fromthe C.R.M. They wanted me to stop
snoopingaround,buttheywerenotwillingtosaythisoutright. So, theyinvented
aconvenient excuse: rape.
PenetrationandProphylactics
Rapeis about sex, but it is mostly about power. This caseis no exception. When
my permission to enter theC.R.M. was suspended by theadministration, I went
over their headsandobtainedjudicial authorizationtocontinuemywork, sincethe
J udgeof thelocal juvenilecourt hadultimatelegal control over thefacilityandits
inmates. Hewas responsiblefor thewelfareof theinmates and theexecution of
their sentences, whiletheadministrationof theC.R.M. facilitatedtheexecutionof
these sentences and maintained responsibility for inmate security (mainly for
keeping inmates under lock and key). In cases of conict between the two
branchesof power theJ udicial andSecurity theJ udgealwayshadthelastword.
After listeningtomeexplainingmyresearch, itsmethods, progress, andgoals, the
J udgeorderedtheadministrators of theC.R.M. to allowmeto resumeeldwork
at theinstitution.
Inorder tosoftentheblowtotheauthorityof theinstitutionsadministratorsthat
consent for my research constituted, the J udge allowed themto impose neces-
sarysecuritymeasurestoprotecttheinmatesandmeduringmyresearch, without
interferingintheresearchitself. Themeasurethat theadministrationimplemented
was that of theintimatesearch. Thedirector of theinstitution rationalized the
procedureasfollows:
Tomakesureyouarenot bringinginsubstancesthat aredangeroustoyour ownsafety
or thesafetyof theinstitution, wehavetodoanintimatesearch. If youbringsomething
illicit init increasesyour danger of rape. Wehavetosearchyoucompletely. Theboys
wehavehere I dont knowif youknowwhat theyvebeeninvolvedin: rape, homi-
cide, rape[sic], assault everythingthat isevil. Therearerapistsbeingheldhereand
wecant guaranteeyour safety. It wouldbeaninternational scandal if yougot rapedin
hereand wesaid that wegaveyou permission to bealonewith theseboys when we
already knowwhat theyrecapableof. It wouldbebetter if youdidnot continueyour
researchhere. But, sinceyouinsist, wehavetosearchyou. Thesearchisnecessaryfor
your ownprotection.
Even after agreat deal of reection I was unableto understand howsomeone
searchingthecavities of my body wouldprotect mefrom(animagined) rape. In
mywayof thinking, theprocedureitself couldbeconstruedasanactof rape, since
it was aforcibleviolation of (theintimate regions of) my body. As asecurity
measure, itwascompletelyabsurd. Asatechniqueof intimidation, however, itbor-
deredonbrilliance. Undoubtedly, it wouldhavebeenhighly effectiveif I consid-
ered a violation of my bodily integrity to be the most degrading insult I could
possiblysuffer; theproposedsearchwouldhaveledmetovoluntarily terminate
mystudy. However, theoffensetomyintelligenceandtomywork that theadmin-
istrationshostilepracticesconstitutedwasmuchmoreinsultingtomethanalatex-
coverednger probingmy vagina. I reasoned: this was thepriceI hadto pay for
penetratingtoodeeply intotheinner lifeof theC.R.M.
Thesecurity measures implementedto control my visits to theC.R.M. were
notaboutsexatall; theyhadtodowithaccesstointimateinformationandthevio-
lationof privacy. My exclusionfromtheC.R.M. camedirectly after I refusedto
allowtheC.R.M.stechnical team (itsstaff of psychologistsandsocial workers)
tolistentopersonal interviewsI tapedwithsomeof theboys. Theinmatesgranted
mepermissiontotapelife-history interviewsbecauseI promisedthat I wouldnot
let anyoneelseintheinstitutionhear what they hadallowedmetorecord. Tosur-
render the recordings would have been a violation of their trust, and of their
94 Violence
privacy not to mention a violation of professional ethics. When the technical
teamcalledmeinto demandto hear therecordings, I refused; I was punished. I
was banned. Whenthejudgeoverturnedtheban, theintimatesearchwas imple-
mented, I presumeto teachmethat it is muchless inconvenient to disrespect the
privacy of thelesspowerful thantohavethemorepowerful invademy own.
ResearchMotives
I frustrated and amazed C.R.M. administrators by braving vemonths of regular
intimatesearches(somemoreprobingthanothers) inorder tonishcollectingthe
lifehistoriesof theinmateswhohadguredinmyresearchwithintheprisonyard.
Duringthis timeI was repeatedly askedwhy I was willingto suffer theindignity
anddiscomfort of thesearches, whenI couldhaveeasily eshed-out thestoriesof
individual inmatesusinginformationcontainedintheir caselesattheC.R.M. and
atthejuvenilecourthouse. (Myaccesstodocumentshadnever beenrestricted.) My
immediateanswer tothisquestionwastoinsistthatI neededtoreturntotheC.R.M.
to let inmates knowthat I hadnot forsakenthem; I didnot want peoplewho had
growntotrust metothink I hadusedthemfor informationanddiscardedthemas
soonas I hadgottenwhat I wantedfor my research. I reasonedthat it was neces-
sary toreturntotheC.R.M. several times tomakethis messageclear, sinceI was
onlyallowedtospeak tooneinmateat atime, andmanyof theindividualsI spoke
withwereunwillingtosharesuchinformationwithall of their peers.
My continuedvisits to theC.R.M. werealso motivatedby my readings of the
legal andinstitutional caselesof inmatesI hadnot yet hadachancetoformally
interview. I foundsomany inconsistencies, omissions andblatant inaccuracies in
ofcial documents that I was unwilling to accept the les as my sole source of
information. (For instance, oneinmatewas repeatedly cited as aparticipant in a
murder thatoccurredinsideof theC.R.M. ontheseconddayof histhirdsuccessful
escapefromtheinstitution anescapethatlastedtwoweeks. If anymember of the
technical teamhadbotheredtoreadtheadolescentsentirecasele, shewouldnot
havecitedhisparticipationinthemurder asevidenceof hisinveteratecriminality.
But, sinceeachevaluationreliedupontheoneimmediatelyproceedingittosupply
thepersonal andcriminal history upon whichtheprofessional assessment of the
adolescentspotential for reformwasbased, oncewritten, thefalsechargeattained
thestatus of truththroughits repetition.) Evenif theinmates werefabricatingor
intentionallydistortingeventsintheir ownlifehistories, asthestaff of theC.R.M.
alleged, their accounts had at least as much truth value as ofcial records.
Therefore, I consideredinterviewswithindividual inmatestobeanimportantsup-
plement tothelatter.
Preserving what I considered to be the integrity of my research was not,
however, my only reasonfor repeatedly returningtothedetentioncenter tospeak
withinmates. Myprimarymotivewas, I must admit, rather base: I wasangryand
wanted revenge. In the act of banning me fromthe C.R.M., administrators had
turnedthemethods they usedto maintainprecarious control of theinstitutionon
me: they publicly silenced, ridiculedanddisempoweredme, whiledisseminating
their fabricatednarrativeof my character andmy actions as if it wereanauthori-
tativetruth. Havingbecomecaughtupintheroutines, ritualsandrelationshipsthat
structure the institution, I fought back unwittingly (perhaps) following the
exampleof theinmatesC.R.M. administratorsseemedtoidentify mewith.
Inthisway, myresearchitself becameanact of deliberateaggression. Although
I couldtry tocast myself asthehaplessvictimof aviolentlyauthoritarianinstitu-
tion, who was simply tryingto maintainher ownintegrity andto do right by the
subjectsof her researchbysubmittingtotheimposedsearches, I knowthat thisis
not howI sawmyself at thetime. I didnot repeatedlyreturntotheC.R.M. simply
because I was a dutiful ethnographer. I returned because of my own desire to
somehowfuck over thosewho would insist on penetrating me. Whatever contri-
butionmyresearch thewordsyouhavejustreadincluded mightsomedaymake
totheeldof anthropology, it will alwaysalsobeact of revenge.
Note
96 Violence
6
AHell of aParty
BrendaMaiale
When I awoke to a ringing phone close to noon that 15 February, I could not
imagine standing ever again. I had had nights in Oaxaca in which I danced too
muchor drank too muchandwokeweary to facetheever-sunny day andvibrant
good cheer of most Oaxaqueos. But that morning, even before my memory
kickedin, mybodyrememberedthatthepreviousnighthadbeenunusual. Without
rising I found the phone under a heap of beer-laden esta clothes. It was C.
1
I
slowed his emphatic rapid-reSpanish to hear, Brenda, you arethehost of the
party. Sendmoneyfor themayordomabut dont come. F. sayshewill kill youon
sight!Yes, I recollected, it wasactuallythecasethat myeldassistant hadthrown
abeer bottleat my headasapartingshot thenight before.
Earlier thenight beforemany questions raced through my mind as I scurried
about looking for means to carry 150 sombreros, 300 plastic bowls, a stack of
paper andplastic servingware, andthebagof 200hardrolls that I hadspent the
afternoonhalvingwithasmall serratedknife. I wasdressedhead-to-toeintheo-
rally embroideredplushvelvet dress of theTehuanaandwas already drenchedin
sweat, althoughthetemperature, likeonmost Oaxacanevenings, was inthecool
lower 70s. I needed to make my way frommy newly rented apartment on the
secondoor of anancient houseinthecenter of theMercado20denoviembrein
downtown Oaxaca City to the SalnAbdiel just three blocks away on Zaragoza
street. TheSalnwasnot far but it hadnot occurredtomethat I might bemaking
thetripalone. Why didit seemlikesuchagoodideatohost aparty?
Cuntame
F., who is aZapotec fromtheIsthmus region of thestate, had been my Spanish
teacher yearsearlier andhadbecomemyresearchassistant andclosefriendduring
the rst months of my eldwork in Oaxaca beginning J anuary 2002. I was
97
originally researching cheesemakers in theregion, who at theonset of my eld-
work I hadbelievedwereall women. However, therst cheesemakers F. brought
metointerviewweremuxe. F. ismuxe, asweremanyof F.sfriends. Muxeisaterm
amongZapotecsthat describesmenwhodenethemselvesasbetweentraditional
masculineandfemininegender andsexual roles. Theyaremalebodiedbut exhibit
dressing practices and behavioral characteristics of both genders: some dress
entirelylikewomen, someuseonlycertainitemsof adornment that areconsidered
locallytobefeminine, somearequitefeminineincomportment andsome, likeF.,
lookquitemasculineexceptingcertaingestural traitsthat arereadaseffeminatein
Oaxaca. WhenI realizedthat muxefulllednot only work-relatedfeminineroles,
suchascheese-making, embroidering, andmarket-selling, butalsofemininesocial
andsexual roles, I becameintriguedthat theacceptanceof muxe, effeminatemen
who havehomosexual relations, was quitedifferent fromwhat I hadexpectedin
Mexico, acountry that isreputedfor itsmachismo.
I hadthought F. hadintroducedmetotheworldof muxecoincidentally viahis
cheesemaking friends whom he initially brought me to interview. Over time,
however, it becameclear that hethought my project woulddo better to focus on
muxe and better still to focus on him. As I accompanied F. during his drinking
binges at thelocal cantinas midweek and estas comeweekend, I began, subtly
andinformally, toalignmyself withhisproject. I hadalreadyalignedmyself with
F. inprofoundwaysashewasoneof thefewOaxaqueoswhounderstoodmythen
rudimentary Spanish. Althoughhetaught meSpanishandZapotec cultureinthe
wayamother passessuchtoher child, withhisshock of black curlyhair anddark
senseof humor, hereminded meof my father, and I was deeply attached to the
familial structure of our relation. By summer I had switched topics formally to
focusonmuxeestasandgender transformationsintheregionmoregenerallyand
planned a second year of eldwork. In reorienting my project, F. was crucial in
helping me to formulate questions. And, as he served as the president of Vinnii
Gaxhe, aZapotec organization of muxein OaxacaCity that was established in
1999tohost estasandother social events, hewouldbemy key informant.
For methat summer markedatransitionfromsimply observingF.s lifetopar-
ticipatingmorefullyinit. Althoughwehadspentmuchtimetogether, I hadalways
excused myself when the evening wore into morning, when he sought men for
sexual companyandwhenhisdrunkennessturnedaggressive. I realized, however,
that muxe estas were part of a complex system of sociality formed largely
throughlate-nightconversations, sexual relationshipsandtheexchangeandshared
consumption of beer. F.s behavior providedkey insights into thecircuit of muxe
social interaction, which had now become the focus of my research project.
Therefore, inthosemoments I previously felt revealedtoo intimatearenas of F.s
life, I no longer excusedmyself to go home. I stayedlate, I askedquestions and,
onoccasion, out of concernfor his wellbeingafter so muchbeer, I intervened. I
hadalong-runningjokewithF. about hisclumsiness, ashehadfrequentlymet me
98 Violence
for languageclasssportingablackeye, bruisedlip, sprainedankleandonceafull-
armcast, whichhehadexplainedawayasaresultof poor coordination. I suspected
that alcohol inducedhistendencytoaccidentsbut I waslater surprisedtoobserve
how often he was involved in physical altercations. I was especially disturbed
whenI begantoparticipateinthem. I thought I wasabystander, perhapsnot inno-
cent but at least rational.
F. too, onthesurface, wasrational, acharismaticandarticulatepersonwholike
many OaxaqueosrelisheddoubleentendreandmasteredthejokingSpanishand
Zapotec that marks agifted orator. Talk then, which was cheap, could beturned
into other things for someoneas clever as F. On numerous occasions I saw him
securebeer, sexual partnersandestasponsorsby theinsightful turnof aphrase.
I also sawhimuselanguageas aweapon. Theofteninitially oblivious targets of
hisvituperativeattackswouldsmolder, unabletorespondinkind. Whenthey did
respond, therewas nothingkindabout it. They oftenstruck physically whenthey
realizedthey werethebutt of F.sbitingwit. For example, lateonenight at ataco
standonthecorner near LaChinampa(oneof Oaxacasthreegaybars), amanhe
had insulted earlier in theevening confronted us. F. wobbled off his stool and I
steppedin front, hopingmy presenceandapology wouldcalmmatters. I missed
most of theexchangebut F.s mentionof themans mother insuchasettingwas
likelywhatpromptedhimtoswingatme, landingasttomyleftcheek. Whenmy
visionclearedI spottedF. perchedagainonhisredmetal stool, addingsalsatohis
order. I returnedtothestandandthetacovendor passedmeapieceof icefor my
eye. WhenI askedF. why hecausedsuchtrouble, his only reply, consideringmy
plate, was, If yourenot goingtoeat those, passthemhere. Clearly hislifewas
suchthat aphysical assault wasnoreasontolet onestacosget cold.
Two weeks later, however, wehad to abandon aperfectly good platter of bar-
bacoa deborrego wheneeingtheireof alocal soccer clubteam. I hadaccom-
paniedF. andhis friendN. to aneighborhoodrestaurant onaSunday noonafter
theyarrivedat myhousethat morningstill out fromthenight before. I thought the
meal wouldberestorativeandalwaysenjoyedavisit toDoaA.swheretheowner
andwaitingstaff werefriendsof F. Wewereseatednear atableof adozenmenin
their soccer uniforms of bright yellow shirts and long socks. They had won an
important earlydawngameandhadbeencelebratingfor hours, drinkingbeer and
mescal. They sent a round of mescal to our table, which F. insisted I consume,
although for meit seemed too early morning. Drinking etiquettein Oaxacawas
either joininor leave. I wasstill unenthusiasticallysippingtheerypaleyellow
liquidwhenF. orderedmetosit withthesoccer playerswhohadinvitedmetojoin
them. I protestedbut heinsistedthat myhesitancewouldbereadasrudeness, soI
took a seat at the end of their long table. They regaled me with the tale of that
mornings victory, actingout thegoals as each scorer in turn removedhis jersey
anddidatriumphantcircuitof thetable. Their teammatesapplauded, butF. andN.,
who hadcontinuedto consumemescal andbeer, madederidingcomments about
AHell of aParty 99
thephysiqueof eachshirtlessplayer, humorouslyencouragingthemtocover them-
selvessoDoaA.spatronsnot losetheir appetites.
ThemoodthennoticeablyworsenedwhenF. calledmeback tothetablefor my
meal. Some members of the soccer teamsaid no, that I was not yet going to
return. They hadhadenoughof F.sbadmanners. I stoodandthey stoodblocking
my passage. Sit down they encouraged; relax, haveanother mescal. But I had
lost my appetite for mescal, for food, for all of it as I dreadedarepeat of the
taco-stand scene. DoaA. entered and suggested that I return to wheremy food
wasgettingcold, deftlyredirectingconversationtoconcernsaboutthemenswives
and children. I quickly returned to F.s sideand encouraged a speedy departure.
Nonsense, hesaid, waving his hand across thetables bounty of roasted lamb,
tortillas, andrice. Inthemeantime, DoaA. hadretreatedto her kitchenandthe
teamagainturnedtheir attentionto us. My namewas yelledout andI lookedup
to seeayellow-shirtedmanfoldthealuminumchair I hadoccupiedandthrowit
intothecement wall asidethetable. A momentary total silencewas endedby the
hurried goodbyes of all but three of the teammembers. I called N. aside and
pleadedwithhimthat weget F. andget out. But toolate, I turnedbacktothetable
to seeF. covered in blood; oneof thesoccer players who had approached in my
absencehadafork stickingout fromhis shoulder. F. was thenready toleaveand
rushedbyustothedoor yellinghurry, hurry.Thankfullythewaiter, F.sfriendJ.,
wasobservingthescene, andaswepassedtheinner irondoor heclosedandlocked
it behindus, securingthesoccer playersinside. Hepushedusout intothestreet as
I appealedthat hereturnfor mywallet andkeys. Inhalf aminuteJ. shovedmybag
through the barred window and we ed into a nearby taxi. F. turned to me and
jovially asked, Where to? Eyeing his blood-splattered shirt, I burst into tears.
Dont worry, hereplied, Thestainswill comeout.
For me the stains never did come out but, remarkably, F. claimed to not
remember theseincidents. WhenI questionedhismotives, hisjudgments, theordi-
narinessof theseviolent episodes, heclaimedignorance. Heappealedtomeasthe
anthropologist andstoryteller. Cuntame, hewouldplea, Youtell me. I spent
hourstryingtomakesenseof hisstory, thedeathof hismother whenhewasone
monthold, hiscomplexsexuality, hisaddictions. Myroleinhislifebecameoneof
biographer, as areceptacleof stories andmemories of whichheneednot burden
himself. But I wasindeedburdenedandbegantoadvisethat hedrink less, choose
safer sexpartnersandnot mouthoff tolargedrunkenmen. Duringthedayhetook
mysuggestionsastheaffectionandconcernI intended; lateat night, heclaimedI
wasinterferingwithhisgoodtimesandthat hedidnot needmy intrusivesurveil-
lance. Moreandmorehebeganto demandthat I go home, get lost, leavehimin
peace. Withjust afewweeks of summer left till my returntotheU.S., I beganto
rethink my plan to return in J anuary for another year of eldwork. Would F. as
researchassistant beany assistanceat all?
100 Violence
Reciprocal Concerns
BeforeI reached any decision on thefutureof my eldwork, J. calledto tell me
that F.sfather diedsuddenlyof aheart attack. I immediatelywent tothelanguage
school whereF. workedandthestaff toldmethat hehaddepartedalready for his
family homeintheIsthmus. Hephonedmelater that afternoonandI askedwhat
couldI do. Pleasecome, hereplied, soI tookalatenightbusandsomeDramamine
to maketheseven-hour winding journey though theSierraMadredel Sur to the
coastal plain. I hadpreviously met several membersof hisfamily inOaxacaCity
andwehaddevelopedawarmrelationship. Mostof F.sfamilyhadnoprior contact
withforeigners, thusmy presenceinthecompoundservedasanoddbut pleasant
distraction to their shocked grief. I spent nearly a month with the family per-
formingthemandatory funerary ritesandrituals. I helpedprepareandservefood
tothenumerousguestswhoarrivedduringtherst days, attendedeveningprayer
vigils, andmadefrequent morningtripstothecemetery tobringowersandcare
for thegravesite. ThoughF. hadreturnedtowork inOaxacaCity, I stayedonand
wasincorporatedintothefamilyasF.smarida(spouse) andaffectionatelyreferred
toasnueraor cuada(daughter or sister-in-law).
At thetimeI thought my integrationintoaZapotec family was acritical move
inmy eldwork fromoutsider toinsider that I couldthenparticipateandobserve
fromanembeddedsubject position. Perhapsthiswastrue, but F. wasnot nearlyas
pleasedwithmy roleas his ctivespouse that I was awell-educatedAmerican
who was his faithful companion was on theonehand asourceof pridefor him;
that I was a woman was an increasingly disturbing source of ambivalence and
repressed anger. His mothers early death and his fathers remarriage made him
feel alreadylikectivekininhisownfamily, aninsecurityI sharedasanadoptee.
Moreover, althoughhis sexual preferencewas clear, custominhis homerequired
that hepresent his lovers as nephews (sobrinos). His family clearly understood
thesemenwereneither afnal nor bloodrelatives but theterminology elidedthe
sexual natureof therelations. Thestorybecameevenmurkier whenI, asafemale
consort, threatenedtomarkhimasheterosexual. Ashisfamilybegantocondein
metheir concernfor F.s emotional instability andanxiety about his recklessness
whendrunk, hebegantointerveneinmyrelationshipswiththeintentionof alien-
atingmefromhisfamily.
I returnedto OaxacaCity just days beforemy returnto theU.S. andwas quite
surprisedthat F. wantedtomeet todiscussmyfutureplans. I thought hewasgoing
totell methat I shouldndanother eldassistant but hehadadifferent proposi-
tion. Hewasaskedtoserveasmayordomo(host) of oneof thelargest muxeestas
heldeachyear inFebruary. DidI want tocosponsor theevent? Hesuggestedthat
by serving as co-mayordoma I would haverst-hand access to theplanning and
preparationof theesta, aswell asentry tothecircleof reciprocity that thecycle
of these events entails: participation observation at its nest. Thinking of the
AHell of aParty 101
tension in our personal relationship I hesitated momentarily. As F.s friend I
thought the sponsorship would divert some energy frommourning his fathers
death. As an ethnographer I decided that thebenets of collecting such detailed
information and securing contacts with more members of the muxe community
wouldoutweightherisks. I agreed. I wouldreturntoOaxacainJ anuary prepared
to cohost theevent. As alast act beforemy departure, weattendedOaxacas rst
Gay PrideMarch.
Guelaguetza
I returned to Oaxaca that J anuary, just three weeks before the Vela de Vinnii
Gaxhe,
2
but intheinterveningmonthsI hadspokentoF. weekly andjust asfre-
quently wired himmoney for someestaexpense. As joint hosts (mayordomos)
we were responsible for securing a permit, renting a salon, hiring two musical
groups, paying security guards, ordering 600 cases of beer and as many plastic
chairs, and providing food and gifts for our guests. I solely was responsiblefor
paying for it. I invested over $1,200 of my own research monies to sponsor this
event. Based on F.s advice and my previous experience attending estas in
Oaxaca, I believedthat thosewhoattendedandreceivedmy hospitality wouldbe
obligatedtoinvitemetotheir eventsfor thedurationof my eldwork stay.
Unfortunately, I hadmisapprehendedthecomplexityof thesituationonseveral
levels. First, F.s emotional statehad further deteriorated in my absenceand was
not purelycoincidental. AlthoughF. askedmetosponsor theevent withhim, ashe
hadthesocial prestigetoserveashost but not thefunds, evenbeforeI returnedto
Oaxaca, he began to resent the power dynamic of the nancial hierarchy. His
fellowVinnii Gaxhemembersknewthat I wasthesourceof thefundingandused
this information to embarrass and shame himon several occasions. His fragile
pridewasrepeatedlytested, althoughI continuallytoldhimthat hisassistanceand
my participation in the event were invaluable to my project. Second, I was a
womanand, asI learnedinthemonthsthat followed, far fromtheideal partner for
a muxe, even as a esta cosponsor. My Spanish, which F. had taught me, was
repletewiththeidiomaticexpressionshefrequentlyusedanddrewattentiontothe
closecontact wehad developed. Our similarity in speech and constant compan-
ionship had becomean accepted target of joking among F.s friends, and hewas
frequentlysubject tothehorrifyingschoolyardtaunt, F. hasagirlfriend!A more
stableindividual might haveshruggedit off but F. foundit insupportably discom-
forting. That the previous August we appeared together in the local newspaper
arm-in-armleadingOaxacasGay PrideMarchwasanadditional sourceof jest.
TheweekendbeforetheVinnii Gaxheesta, I accompaniedF. to his Isthmus
home. I was sensitive to his insecurities and hoped this time together with his
familywouldhelpamelioratethestresstheestapreparationshadwrought onour
102 Violence
relationship. But, again I was wrong. On this return trip I was affectionately
receivedbyF.sstepmother, M., brother O. (whoisalsomuxe) andhissister R., as
well as his numerous aunts and cousins who lived in thesamecompound. They
fondlyrememberedmystaywiththemandresumedkin-likerelationswithme. F.,
who inmy absencehadbecomesexually andemotionally involvedwithayoung
maninOaxaca, viewedasfarcethekintermsthat hisfamily usedtorefer tome.
Hedrank heavily andbecameverbally abusive, claimingthat I meant nothingto
him. However, theseattempts to denigratemein his familys eyes had theunin-
tendedcounter-effect of garneringtheir support onmy side. Heirrationally con-
cludedthat theypreferredmypresencetohis, whichfurther worsenedour tenuous
relationship.
Everyoneinthecompoundseemedsadly awarethat F.sonceneurotic behavior
was becomingincreasingly pathological andever moredangerous andweregen-
uinely concerned for me. During that visit F.s mother lent me the very old and
valuableembroideredvelvet dressthat I wouldwear totheparty andtoldmethat
her home was always open to me. His sister R., who resided in Oaxaca City,
offeredto meet withmeto discuss Zapotec customs. Andhis brother O. pledged
hissupport tomyprojectandofferedtoserveasmyresearchassistantinF.splace.
I was hesitant to accept theseoffers, but inlight of my deterioratingrelationship
withF., I wouldconsider them. First, however, I neededtoreturntoOaxacawith
my reluctant co-mayordomo and host the esta for our 600 invited guests. F.s
partinganger-ladenwordstomeuponour returntothesecond-classbusstationin
OaxacaCity at 3:00a.m. werethat, inessence, wewouldhost theparty together
but separately. I woulddo my part, whichinvolvedpurchasingandpreparingthe
foodandbuyinggiftsand, for hispart, hewouldshowup.
Guelaguetza comes fromZapotec andmeans thegreat courtesy, thecustomto
help one another during big events, such as weddings, births, funerals, and the
planting and harvesting of crops. Community cooperation makes it possible to
providefor theexpenses of rites of passageandagricultural inputs. Oaxaqueos
takereciprocityseriously. Thestateevensponsorsanannual eventnamedafter this
custom, atwo-week longcelebrationof folkloricdancethat takesplaceinOaxaca
City every J uly. At theendof eachdance, regional delegationspresentstheir own
guelaguetza to theaudienceby throwing small fruits, hats, and sometimes even
coconutsandpineapples. Intheweek beforetheestaof Vinnii Gaxhe, I thought
oftenabout thisOaxacantraditionof great courtesy. I hadthought estaexchange
created obligatory, reciprocal ties that bound people together; I had not thought
about howsucheventscouldbeusedtocleavepeopleapart. HadI learnednothing
fromMarcel Maussabout thedevastatingpotential of therefusal toreceive?
AHell of aParty 103
Vinnii Gaxhe2003
Longbefore14February2003I realizedthat theestaI wasabout tohost wasnot
goingto betheopeningandenteringof muxesociety that I hadanticipatedbut I
rescued what I could. F. could not abidemy nancial contribution, nor even my
presenceinthelead-uptotheestabut wewerelockedinobligationtothelarger
structure. Although F. refused to speak to me, his family and several other
members of themuxecommunity did extend meseveral small courtesies. In the
week beforetheesta, C., amember of Vinnii Gaxhemadenumeroustripswith
metothemarket toselect thesombrerosandplastic-waregiftsfor theguests. F.s
neighbor S. and I spent hours in my apartment writing in black marker Regalo
(gift) delosmayordomos,Vinnii Gaxhe2003ontheplasticbowlsandplates. We
later learned that the correct phrase is Recuerdo de los mayordomos
memento fromthehostsnot gift, but C. toldusnot toworrysincethemarker
would likely wear off either by spilledbeer or by guests dancing with thebowls
andbaskets ontheir heads duringthelater hours of theparty. Thefoodwas pre-
paredafter I madeanemergencyphonecall toIxtepecandenlistedthehelpof F.s
brother O. Hearrivedtheday of theevent at 7:00a.m. onanovernight bus from
theIsthmus sevenhours away. My excellent culinary knowledgewas of littleuse
in preparingOaxacan estafoodfor over 200guests.
3
Thereis arangeof foods
that arepotentially appropriatebut noneof therecipes arewritten. After aquick
triptothemarket, O. coveredmy kitchenoor withpansof chickeningarlic and
orangemarinadeandspaghetti withtomatoandcrema. I set tocuttingtherolls.
Other courtesies were extended throughout the afternoon. When O. and I
openedtheovenandfoundit wasusedtostoreanoddarrayof switchesandspare
pieces of wireand not attached to asourceof gas, wedecided it was timefor a
beer. Howwerewegoingto cook thenineturkey-roaster sizealuminumpans of
foodthat neededtobebakedinthenext fewhours?After makingafewtelephone
calls I foundthat no oneI knewinOaxacahadaworkingoven. Withinanhour,
however, my muxe friend C. fromXoxo just outside the city limits arrived to
borrow my greenTehuana outt that he would wear to the party. He knew of a
bakery inXoxothat lit awood-burningoveneachmorningandmight let uscook
our foodintheresidual heat. Hequickly enlistedthehelpof afriendwithatruck
and, accompaniedby O., carriedoff thefoodpromisingtodeliver it at theappro-
priatehour. And, at thelast minute, as I was sweating and struggling to lug the
estabountydownthestairswiththeideaof ndingataxi, S. appearedwithsome
friendsfromwork tohelpmehaul themountainof recuerdostotheSaln.
Theparty went on. Thereweretwobands. Guests lledthehall. Thefoodwas
deliveredontime(onOaxacantime, several hours late) andwas delicious. F. did
indeedattendtheestabut hedidnot speak tomemost of theevening. I assumed
this might bemy last party and desperately jotted down contact information for
anyone willing to provide me with a number or address. R., an unemployed
104 Violence
ex-lover of F., offeredtoassist mewithmy futureresearchplans. After glaringat
mefor hours, thebeer loosenedhisreserveandF. approachedtoissueawarning.
Hesqueezedmy upper armtothepoint of bruisinganddemandedthat I goaway
and keep my distancefromhimand especially fromR., concerned that I would
replacehimasanobject of R.sdesire. I didnot takethediplomatic routetoallay
tension but I had had enough. I laughed. I laughed at the sheer irony that my
successincreatingaplacefor myself inanetworkof familyandfriendsbecamea
spacethat F. felt heoccupied. Hours later, whenI was packingthings up, F. saw
that R. was helping me to cart serving-ware back to my house. The music had
stopped so all present could hear F.s yelling curses and accusations of my
witchery. I was glad to hear it, as it forewarned theCoronamissileaimed at my
head. I duckedbut didnot needto F. didhavelousy coordinationwhendrunk.
What aparty. Asidefromservingfoodandbeer anddistributingthegifts, none
of theusual estarituals wereperformed. Wedidnot makecandles together, nor
dance the Zandunga, nor speak the prescribed words to our guests or to the
incomingmayordomos. I hadattendedenoughestasinOaxacatoapprehendthe
sorry stateof ritual at this affair. As ananthropologist, I was disappointednot to
beabletoparticipateinwhat I thought werethecentral ritesof theevent. Noone
else, however, remarked on the ubbed protocol nor on the violent concluding
scene. ThatnightI assumedthatwithoutF.shelpmyresearchprojectwasdoomed.
However, in themonths after theparty, and theyears since, I haverealized that
what failed, F.sviolent reactionandthebreakdownof reciprocal relationshipsand
obligations, actually madethenatureof social relationships inOaxacaespecially
clear. Two days after theparty, only threeof theparticipants werestill speaking
withme. F., aspresident of theorganization, hadbannedmefromfurther contact
withthemembersof Vinnii Gaxhe.
4
Onthethirdday, I wasofciallycursedwith
black magic by theSanta Muerte
5
whenF. sent anenvelopecontainingdirt from
thecemetery andaburnt twenty-pesonotetomy house. It wasstrikinghowshort
I fell fromachievingmy goal.
AnUnremarkableTale
As I sought a deeper understanding of my role in the event, as I examined the
micro-politicsof social interactionof whichI hadbeenunaware, asI dealtwithmy
guilt of treadingtooheavily onforeignsoil, I toldmy story. I spoketoF.sfamily,
to older Zapotec womenintheIsthmus, to non-Zapotec Oaxaqueos of all ages,
to muxewho werenot associated withVinnii Gaxhe, to F.s former friends and
lovers, toanyonewhowouldlisten. What emergedfromthesediscussionsformed
theethnographic substanceof my research: thetales of family squabbles, imbal-
anced reciprocity, unrepaid loans, jealousies, manipulations, betrayals, drunken
violence. Fiestasdidindeedserveasthesocial fabricof Zapoteclife; however, that
AHell of aParty 105
fabricwasnotunblemishedwhitelinen. ItmorecloselyresembledaTehuanaesta
dress intricately embroidereddesigns onadark, heavy fabric, linedwithadif-
ferent fabric of which only the wearer is aware, and concealing multiple layers
beneath. Thenaddbeer.
Notes
1. Nameshavebeenabbreviated.
2. Velameanscandle,andIsthmianestasaresonamedafter thecandlesoffered
to thechurch in aceremony that initiates thefestivities, after which comes a
processionandthenanall-night party of eating, drinkinganddancing.
3. Althoughover 600guests wereinvited, weonly hadto providefoodfor those
sitting in our section, to theother socios (members of Vinnii Gaxhe) and to
thosewhomF. owedsomefavor.
4. My relationship with muxein Oaxaca improved after F. migrated to the U.S.
threemonthsafter theesta.
5. TheSantaMuertecult focusesonaset of ritual practicesofferedtoasupernat-
ural personication of death in expectation of the fulllment of specic
requests.
106 Violence
7
ArrivinginJ ewishBuenosAires
NatashaZaretsky
I arrivedinBuenosAiresonacoldbright winter morninginJ uneof 2001, ready
to begin my rst research trip to Argentina. Before my ight, I spent several
months planning a project that explored my interests in memory, violence, and
humanrights. Argentinapresentedacompellingcase, withahistory fraught with
rights abuses. State-sponsoredterror andpolitical repressionduringthelast mili-
tary dictatorship from1976to1983 resultedinthetortureanddisappearance
of anestimated30,000people, never tobeheardfromagain. Themothersof those
disappeared formed a powerful social movement, the Madres de la Plaza de
Mayo (the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo), which convened weekly marches
aroundthecentral plazaof BuenosAirestoprotest thedisappearanceof their chil-
drenandtheimpunitythatfollowedthedictatorship. Suchprotests, memorialsand
commemorationswerequitevisiblemarkersof past violencebut, I wondered, how
doesthisviolenceshapethefabric of everyday lifeinother ways?
These mothers inspired my initial thinking about Argentina, but as I learned
moreaboutthecountry, I discoveredunexpectedhistoriesof violence. Someof the
mothersof thePlazadeMayowerechildrenof Holocaust survivors. TheMothers
alsostoodinsolidaritywiththosewholost their familymemberstoother episodes
of violence inArgentina, including two terrorist attacks in the 1990s: the 1992
Israeli Embassy bombing and the 1994 Argentine J ewish Mutual Aid Society
(A.M.I.A.) bombing, together killing more than 100 people and wounding hun-
dreds.
I eventually focused my project on theJ ewish community of BuenosAires, a
groupwhosemembers hadenduredmultipleperiods of violence. Argentinais, in
many respects, anationof Europeanimmigrants (thevast majority of Spanishor
Italian descent) and is also home to the largest population of J ews in Latin
America. Thiscommunity may havenever comeintoexistence, however, without
theviolenceandexpulsionthey sufferedinEurope. Therst major waveof J ews
107
arrived in the late 1800s and early 1900s, eeing the pogroms in Russia and
Eastern Europe; later waves included J ews escaping Nazismand theHolocaust.
Although they found a refuge and a home inArgentina, they also continued to
experience periods of anti-J ewish violence and came to occupy an ambiguous
positioninArgentinesociety.
The1992 bombing of theIsraeli Embassy shocked many Argentines who did
not expect suchterrorismtooccur ontheir soil.Yet, becauseit targetedtheforeign
representation of thestateof Israel, many did not consider it aproblemthat the
Argentinegovernment neededto address. The1994A.M.I.A. bombing, however,
which targeted the largest J ewish community center in Buenos Aires, struck a
moreurgent chordandheldamoreimmediatesignicance.
TheA.M.I.A. bombingdestroyedacivilianinstitutionfor Argentinecitizens
killing eighty-vepeopleand wounding hundreds and is considered theworst
terrorist attacktohavetakenplaceinLatinAmerica. Manynon-J ewishArgentines
participated in large public protests and demonstrated their solidarity with the
J ewish community after the attack. Others, however, no longer wished to play
soccer matches with J ewish clubs and did not want J ewish institutions as their
neighbors.
Theresponseof theArgentinegovernment only exacerbatedtheimpressionof
impunity andinjusticethat surroundedthebombing. A botchedinvestigationled
to atrial that beganinSeptember 2001, sevenyears after thebombing; this trial
concluded in 2004 with no convictions and camenowherecloser to thetruth of
what happened or who was responsible. At the time of writing, no group has
claimedresponsibilityfor thebombingand, althoughspeculationsabound, littleis
known for certain. In March 2005, however, theInter-American Commission on
Human Rights of the Organization of American States did determine that the
Argentinegovernment clearly failedtoprovidejusticeintheA.M.I.A. case.
This lack of justiceconnectedthis bombingto alonger history of impunity in
Argentina(datingback tothepolitical repressionof theDirtyWar) andultimately
ledtooneof themost signicant consequencesof theA.M.I.A. attack: acrisisof
identityandbelonging. Indeed, manyJ ewishArgentinesbegantoquestionwhat it
meant tobeJ ewishandArgentineandtheir belongingintheir society andnation.
When I rst arrived in Buenos Aires in 2001, almost seven years had passed
since the attack on the A.M.I.A. building. Interested in the aftermath of this
bombing, I went to thesiteof theattack theOnce(pronouncedOHN-say) dis-
trict of thecity. Duringmyrst weeksthere, I walkedonthestreet, Pasteur, where
thebombingtook place. It hadsincebeenneatly repaved, memorial trees erected
for eachvictimatevenpaces. Thenewbuildingstoodlikeafortress, recessedfrom
thesidewalk toprevent afutureattack.
Thebombingalsoresonatedinother partsof thecity. I went totheweeklyactos
(protests) of Memoria Activa (Active Memory), one of the social movements
formedinresponseto theA.M.I.A. bombing. A largepart of their work involved
108 Violence
international andnational advocacyefforts; but their most visiblework inBuenos
Aires were the weekly protests held in front of the High Courts of Argentina,
wheretheyformedanalternativetribunal, challengingthelackof justicetheyper-
ceived fromtheir state. Like the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, they convened
every week toremember thevictimsof thebombinganddemandjusticefor their
deaths, fearingthat if thosevictims wereforgottenandrecededinto history, that
justicewouldnever bepossible.
They heldtheir protests onMonday mornings, inadowntownplazafacingthe
Tribunales theHigh Courts of Argentina. They began with theblowing of the
shofar (aramshorn), toremember thevictimsof thebombingand, everyMonday,
they invited peopleto offer their testimonies, reecting on thebombing, on vio-
lence, onimpunityinArgentina. EveryMonday, theycalledfor justice, andevery
Monday they would leavethis plaza, to return thefollowing Monday. I stood as
oneof manyobserversat their commemorativeprotests. But I alsowonderedhow
thispast violencemediatedother aspectsof lifeaswell.
Duringthoserst weeks of research, I begancontactingthefewpeopleinthe
J ewishcommunity I couldget intouchwith, relyingonthehelpof contactsfrom
my department in Princeton and acquaintances in New York. Several months
before my trip, I met one of those contacts, David, in a Korean restaurant in
Manhattan. HewasanAmericanstudent whohadspent timeinBuenosAiresand
told me about a friend, a young Argentine of European J ewish descent named
Alejandrowhoalsohappenedtobeaformer rabbinical student.
WhenI arrived, Alejandro graciously offeredatour of thecity andinvitedme
andmyboyfriend(whotraveledwithmetoArgentina) togoouttodinner withhim
and his girlfriend. Hepicked us up in front of theapartment building wherewe
werestaying, whichI soonunderstoodtobeinoneof themoreexpensiveareasof
the city, Palermo (a name that reected the Italian inuence in Argentina).
Alejandrohimself livedinawealthynorthernsuburbandnavigatedthecitybycar.
Fromtheback seat, I leanedforwardandtriedtoabsorbasmuchasI couldfrom
what hewastellinguswhilestaringout at thecitypassingrapidlybythewindow.
He narrated the city as we drove past different buildings and monuments and I
tried to remember as many details as I could in case they would later become
important tounderstandinglifeinBuenosAires.
As weturnedonto astreet whosenameI didnot catch, hepointedout asyna-
gogueandaskedif I sawwhat hecalledpilotesout front. Thesepilotesweresmall
cement pillars, shapedliketruncatedpoles, whichpuncturedthesidewalk infront
of thesynagogue. I quickly whippedmy headaroundtolook at themaswedrove
past. Alejandro explained that these pilotes were erected in front of all J ewish
buildings as protection against car bombings after theA.M.I.A. attack. (I would
later ndout thereexistedavery small handful of exceptions. But, onthewhole,
either pilotesor wider cement barricadescametomarkthevast majorityof J ewish
sites inthecity andthroughout Argentinainresponsetothe1994bombing.) The
ArrivinginJ ewishBuenosAires 109
J ewish community installed thesepilotes in order to makepeoplefeel safer and
they continued to serve as a visible reminder of the need for security after the
bombing.
Alejandrothentoldmethat I couldnot takeanyphotographsof thesynagogue.
I askedhimif I couldtakephotographs insidethesynagogue. Insideis ne, but
never outside. Its a security measure, he explained. Luciana, his girlfriend,
noddedher headinagreement, shakingher index nger back andforthto punc-
tuate the prohibition. Although there were never visible signs to that effect,
AlejandroandLucianamadeit seemasif everyoneinBuenosAiresknewthat no
photos wereallowed commonknowledgefor J ewishArgentines after the1994
bombing.
Beforearriving, I hadreadabout thesenewsecurity measures pilotesor bar-
ricades liningthesidewalk infront of J ewishinstitutions (includingsynagogues,
schools, sports clubs, organizations) and private security guards hired by the
J ewish community, stationedat theentrances of buildings andevents to monitor
those who entered, usually checking identity documents and searching bags.
Feelingunsafeafter twoterroristattacks, membersof theJ ewishcommunitychose
toprovidesecurityfor themselves, andI wondered, what didthat meanabout their
sense of safety as citizens? What did that mean for their relationship to the
Argentinestate?
WhileI hadknownabout thesesecurity measuresbeforearrivinginArgentina,
I hadnever heardabout therestrictionagainst takingphotographs of buildings. I
madeamental notethat herewasanother exampleof therulesandboundariesthat
denedJ ewishlifeinthecity. At highspeeds, Alejandrothencontinuedhistour of
the city, pointing to buildings, neighborhoods, and other aspects of J ewish life.
Duringthat rst drive, BuenosAires, andmorespecically, J ewishBuenosAires,
begantotakeshapefor me.
Over thenext few weeks, I walked thestreets of thecity. I stood in crowded
buses as they lurchedforwardandmadetheir way downthecentral avenues tra-
versing theurban grid, thearchitectureand cafs reminiscent of Europe. During
theserst foraysintoBuenosAires, I alsonoticedhowthepilotesandbarricades
made J ewish buildings stand apart fromother public spaces. Not only did they
interrupt thephysical spaceof sidewalksbut thesecurityguardsstationedat these
buildingspreventedanyloiteringor unsanctioneduseof that space markingthis
asdifferent fromother areas.
Slowly, small pocketsof thecitytook onmorecomplexshadesof meaningasI
mademy way intotheJ ewishcommunity.
When I arrived that J une, less then a month remained until the seven-year
anniversary of theA.M.I.A. bombingon18J uly 2001. Intheyearsthat followed,
anewbuildingreplacedtheonedestroyed. Walkingalongthat street, therewere
constant reminders of what had taken place. In addition to the trees planted to
commemorateeachof theeighty-vevictims, their namesengravedinblackstone
110 Violence
plaques underneath, a wall of memory stood in front of the building the rst
name of each victimspray-painted on a black piece of metal. During the many
monthsafter thebombing, theonlythingthat stoodat thesiteof thebombingwas
this wall of names. Every monthsincetheattack, thegroupFamiliares yAmigos
delasVctimas(FamilyMembersandFriendsof theVictims) gatheredat that wall
to remember thosewho died and protest theinjusticethat followed, interrupting
thenormal owof trafc andpedestrians tobringeveryoneback tothat moment
of violence.
These commemorative events (called actos), plaques and trees were obvious
memorials tothebombing. But I alsostartedtowonder, didthesepilotesandthe
very structure of the new building protected by a thick wall with pilotes and
cement barricades out front also recall theviolenceof thebombing? Had that
moment of violencebecomepart of thedailylifeinthecitythroughthebarricades
andpilotesthat aroseinresponse?
Theseven-year anniversarywasrapidlyapproachingandintheweekbeforethe
anniversaryof theA.M.I.A. bombing, I triedtoattendeverycommunityevent that
commemoratedtheattack. Atthelastminute, Alejandrotoldmeaboutanactothat
wasgoingtotakeplaceonthenight beforetheanniversary, on17J uly, organized
byagroupof J ewishyouthtobeheldoutsideof therebuiltA.M.I.A. building. He
wasnt abletogowithme, but at that point, I felt comfortableenoughtogoonmy
own.
I arrivedaloneandit wasalready dark whenI startedtowalk towardstheacto
intheOnceneighborhood. Back inNewYork, DaviddescribedOnceto meas a
crossbetweentheLower East SideandtheGarment District of Manhattan. It was
asmall, densely wovenset of streets that werehometo themany aspirations and
difcultiesof newimmigrantstothecity. Commerceloomed, alongwithcommu-
nity institutions. Although traditionally J ewish, the neighborhood was slowly
transforming with the arrival of Korean businesses in recent years. The streets
wereverynarrowandlledwithtextileshopsandwholesalemerchandise. During
the day, a sense of constant movement pervaded the Once neighborhood, inter-
ruptedby thepilotesthat linedtheclustersof J ewishinstitutionsintheneighbor-
hood.
As I walkedtowards thestreet wheretheacto was to takeplace, I foundOnce
to be eerily empty; the businesses were shuttered for the night and no one else
seemedtobewalkingoutside. I didnt havemanythingswithme just mywallet,
cell phone, andacameraI broughttotakephotographsof thecommemorativecer-
emony. After being asked for my identication at every J ewish building I had
visitedduringmyrst weeksinthecity, I alsodecidedtobringmypassport along,
just incase.
At theentrancetothestreet of theA.M.I.A. building, amakeshift policebarri-
cadestood, haphazardly blockingoff theentranceof thestreet tovehicles. A line
of people had already formed to enter the site and were moving through the
entryway after beingapprovedby menindark overcoats whomI already recog-
nizedastheJ ewishcommunityssecurityguards. Policewerescatteredaroundthe
checkpoint but the security guards of the J ewish community were the ones
screeningusaswepassedthrough.
These security guards seemed to mark the physical space as J ewish and the
event asJ ewish, representingacertainauthority outsidethestate. They may have
seemedperipheral but I wouldlater wonder what signicancethey hadfor under-
standingJ ewishcommunity lifeintheaftermathof terror.
Most visitors cameto theacto with afriend, or several friends. I was alone. I
waitedmyturninline, andgot readytoanswer what hadalreadybecometheusual
questionsfor mefromsecurity.
What areyouherefor tonight?
Theactoorganizedby J ewishyouth.
Howdidyoundout about thisevent?
Fromafriend.
Whereareyoufrom?
TheUnitedStates.
CanI seeyour passport please?
Yes.
At this point, I handed my passport over and they studied it carefully, before
continuingwiththeir questions. At noother event inArgentinawasI askedfor my
passport insuchaway.
Doyoubelongtothecommunity?
Yes.
Whenthey referredto thecommunity, la comunidad, they referredto theJ ewish
communityat large, andnot just theJ ewishcommunityinArgentina. Indeed, they
knewI was fromtheU.S., andoriginally hailedfromBelarus, frommy passport.
Instead, thequestionitself was afurther test of belongingto theJ ewishcommu-
nityat large; if I weretoaskwhichcommunity, theywouldknowI didnot belong.
AlthoughI afrmedthat I didbelong, theystill probedfurther beforeaccepting
that I indeedwasJ ewish, askingfor my credentials.
DidyougotoanyJ ewishschool, or areyouamember of anycongregationor organi-
zation?
No, but wedogotoservicesfor thehighholidays.
112 Violence
That seemed to satisfy theguards. After answering thequestions, they looked
throughmy bagandallowedmetopass through. They haddeterminedthat I was
not adanger totheevent.
Westill hadtwentyminutestogobeforetheactowastobegin, andI wandered
aroundtheopenstreet, whichhadbeenemptiedfor thecommemorativeceremony.
As I proceeded towards theA.M.I.A. building, a volunteer handed me a small
tealight candle, inpreparationfor thecandlelighting. I took my candleandstood
off to theside, watchingeveryoneelse. Beingayouthevent, it wasnt surprising
toseeyoungteenagersmillingaboutfromgrouptogroupaswewaitedfor theacto
tobegin. SinceI didnt recognizeanyonethere, I continuedtostandalone.
ThenewlyrebuiltA.M.I.A. buildingwasthebackdropfor theevent. Thisnight,
a podium was erected in front of the wall of names, and several community
membersandyouthgavespeechesinremembranceof thebombing. Therestof the
crowdgatheredaroundwhileI stoodback. Themoment camewhentheybeganto
sing and light candles in memory of the victims. I did not want to disturb the
sacred natureof this commemorativemoment for thosewho wereremembering
thedestructionof that day or their lossesbut I alsofelt that I shouldtakeaphoto
anddocumentthisfor myresearch. Tornbetweenmydesiretostandbackandwhat
I felt tobemyobligationtodocument thisevent for myresearch, I went aheadand
took out mycamera. Assoonastheashwent off, it seemedthat everyoneturned
aroundtostareat meandI, whohadbeenstandingback andlargely hidden, sud-
denly becameacutely visible.
WhileI recalledthat Alejandro hadsaidthat I shouldnot takephotographs of
synagoguesbecauseof securityconcerns, I didnot think that takingaphotograph
of agroupof youngpeoplesingingandlightingcandleswouldconstitutethesame
breachof security codes. Infact, my only concernintakingthephoto was that I
would interrupt what must have been a difcult moment for those gathered to
remember aterrorist attack. But it turnedout that thevery act of takingaphoto-
graphmarkedmeas asuspicious outsider and, thus, potentially dangerous inthe
eyesof theJ ewishsecurity.
As soon as I snapped the photograph, I registered the shocked look of faces
turningthat followedmycameraasherupting. Thoseeyescontinuedtofollowus
as a young man quickly approached me, abruptly taking me by my elbow and
leadingmeoff tothesideof theevent.
Hewasperhapstwentyyearsof age, withaclean-shavenface, dressedinablack
suit, black tie, black overcoat, and black shiny shoes. Perhaps heintended to be
discreet; perhaps he intended to stand out in the accepted uniform of those
workingas security guards for J ewishinstitutions. Either way, that formof dress
soonbecameunmistakabletome.
Oncewewereat about twentyfeet fromtheevent, hebegantoquestionme. The
unusual natureof thisconversation wasapparent fromtheway hestoodnext to
me closer thanastranger shouldor afriendwould, inaway that didnot permit
meto just walk away. Hethendeliveredhis questions inastaccato voice loud,
abrupt, withaneutral facial expression leadingmetobelievethistobemoreof
acompulsoryinterrogationthanasimplequerywhereI wasfreetogoat anytime.
I becamenervous, sensingthat I hadcommittedatransgression, acultural error
of sorts, andsteppedover someinvisibleline. Hebeganby simply askingfor my
document. I quicklyhandedover mypassport, withoutquestioninghisauthorityto
demandit. Heinspectedit verycloselybeforetakingout asmall slipof paper and
jotting down my information. Hethen put that pieceof paper in his pocket and
continuedwithhisquestions.
Whydidyoutakethephotograph?
I amheredoingresearchontheJ ewishcommunityandwantedtotakeaphotographof
thepeoplesingingandlightingcandlesfor my thesis.
Didnt youknowit isnot allowed?
No, I didnot.
Whereareyoufrom?
TheUnitedStates.
WhydoyouspeakSpanishsowell?
I studiedit incollege.
Doyoubelongtothecommunity?
Yes.
Whotoldyouabout thisevent?
A friend.
What ishisname?
Alejandro.
Howdoyouknowhim?
Throughafriendof afriend.
Howdoyouknowthat friend?
Wemet intheUnitedStatesbeforeI camehere.
Suddenly, everything seemed suspicious. How indeed did I meet this other
personwhothenintroducedmetoAlejandro? HowdidI endupat that event that
night, all alone, takingphotos whenI shouldhaveknownI wasnt allowedto? It
wasnt postedanywhere; no onetoldmeI couldnot; but if I hadpassedthrough
their borders, their securitycheckpoints, shouldntI havealreadyknowntherules?
Hecontinued:
WhoelsedoyouknowinArgentina?
At that question, my mindwent blank andI panicked. I took out thecell phone
I recently purchased and scrolled through thecontact information, hoping I had
recorded someones phone number who I could offer to vouch for me. I did,
114 Violence
luckily, haveAlejandrosinformationthere. I gavetheguardhisnumber willingly,
without worrying, as I shouldhave, about theconsequences for Alejandro or for
me. I hadnever beeninsuchasituationanddidnot knowwhat toexpect, or how
much trouble I would be in for what I did. But did I do anything wrong?
Everything happened so quickly that I still wasnt sure. My bewilderment only
emphasized that while I felt like an expert at moving around the city, no one
warnedmeabout howtonavigatetheseboundaries, thisnewJ ewishBuenosAires
of security, suspicionandfear. Inthat encounter, it felt as if wehadmomentarily
slippedoutsidetheregular courseof things andevenoutsidetheArgentinestate,
intoazoneof uncertaintywheretherulesguidinglifeintherest of thecitydidnot
operateinthesameway.
Later, I wouldwonder about theauthoritythissecurityseemedtoholdat J ewish
buildings and events. TheArgentinepolicedid not participateat all in my ques-
tioning, nor couldtheyhave, sincetakingaphotographwasnot againstArgentine
law. What right didtheyhavetodemandmyroll of lm?Wouldtheyhavehadthe
righttoconscateit?DidtakingaphotobreakArgentinelawor transgressthecon-
ventionsandrulesof theJ ewishcommunityafter thebombing?Whowasincharge
here? I askedmyself, what might thissuggest about theroleof theArgentinestate
in J ewish life in Buenos Aires? It seemed as if the statelooked away at certain
moments, andthat indeed, they implicilty concededthat they werenot capableof
providing the security and safety J ewish Argentine citizens needed after the
bombing.
At theendof his questions, heveriedwho I was andwhat I was doingthere
but still wantedmyroll of lm. AlthoughI hadbeennervousupuntil that point, I
simplyrefusedtogiveit tohim, andafter consultationwithhissuperior, heagreed
tolet mekeepit. Theyoungmanwhohadjust gonethroughtheprocessof inter-
rogatingmethensteppedback towardsme, andsaidit wasalright, politelyletting
meknowthat I may returntotheacto; askingmetoexcusetheinconvenience.
J ust asabruptly asit began, our encounter hadended. I walkedaway fromhim
andcouldnotstopwalking. I quicklymademywayoutof theconnesof theacto,
my heart pounding. I couldnt just go back as if nothinghadhappenedbecauseI
wasshakenby our exchange.
In that encounter, thephotograph I took momentarily rendered meas an out-
sider, as apotentially dangerous other. TheresultingexchangewiththeJ ewish
communityssecurity guardpositionedmeinaspaceof uncertainty azonethat
seemedtooperateoutsidethenormal parametersof thestate. Whiletherewereno
further consequencesthat followed, inthat small moment, inthat interaction, I felt
that muchmorewas goingon. WhileI was tryingtogureout theboundaries of
theJ ewish community in BuenosAires and howto approach my research, I had
not realized that this was part of theway J ewishArgentines had cometo dene
their own new boundaries. Through these security exchanges and encounters
(products of the violence of the bombing), they positioned who was inside and
outside, who was included and excluded and thus negotiated their community.
During my own encounter, I was on theline, someonenot to betrusted. In that
process, I momentarily crossed into thespaceof theother, becoming apoten-
tially dangerous suspect for having taken aphotograph they did not want meto
take.
My experience signaled an important tension between the J ewish community
andtheArgentinestate: Whowasinchargeof patrollingthebordersof thebuild-
ingsandcommunityevents? HowmuchauthoritydidJ ewishsecurityhave?What
dosuchdetailssuggest about howJ ewishArgentinesfeel ascitizens, unprotected
by their own state? My encounter opened up acertain kind of knowledgeabout
living with the aftermath of violence a violent past that continued to mediate
belongingfor J ewishArgentines, breakingthroughthesurfaceof everyday lifein
moments such as these. It conditioned my entry into that world and my under-
standingof howtheJ ewishcommunity deneditsboundariesintheaftermathof
aterrorist attack.
As timepassed, my ownencounters withsecurity wouldchange. They became
moreroutine, moreordinary, lessnotable. I begantorecognizetheguardsandthey
recognized me. I was no longer the suspicious foreigner. I even kissed some of
themhelloonthecheek, thecommongreetingbetweenfriendsandacquaintances
inArgentina.
Over theyears, other changesalsotookplaceinArgentina thegroupMemoria
Activaendeditstenyearsof weeklyprotestsin2004. However, asof thiswriting,
a small group of supporters continued to gather there to remember the victims.
There were other signs of change: the memorial trees on Pasteur Street seemed
abandoned, someof theplaques missing (presumably stolen for thevalueof the
stone, basedonwhat others toldme). Over fourteenyears havepassedsincethe
bombing and with that passage of time, inevitably, the memory of victims may
fadeandthestrugglefor that memory andfor justicebecomesmoredifcult.
However, what hasremained, asperhapsanother testament tothat violence, are
thepilotes, barricades, andsecuritymeasures. Theypersist asadeningandpow-
erful element of J ewish life in the city and throughout Argentina. They exist at
almost every institution; they accompany almost all J ewish events. In away, the
ubiquitiouspilotesandtheritual securityencountersactedincreasinglyasanalter-
nativesiteof memoryfor adisturbedpeace; theyrecalledtheviolenceof theattack
andtransmittedthefear fromthatday, nowroutinized, intothessuresof everyday
lifeinthecity.
These new security practices, while claiming to simply protect a pre-existing
community, essentiallydenedtheveryboundariesof thiscommunityandtheway
its members negotiated citizenship, identity, and belonging in the wake of vio-
lence. My own encounter with the routinized security protocol launched me
directly into the new ways the J ewish community dened its boundaries and
createditself anew. Indeed, theviolenceof the1994A.M.I.A. bombingcontinued
116 Violence
toplay arole, sometimesinunexpectedways, indaily lifeinthecity. My experi-
encewiththesecurity that stemmedfromthisbombingbrought meintothelega-
ciesof theviolencethatarenotalwaysfullyvisibleor immediatelyaccessible.And
onlyafter mypersonal encounter withthesecurity, withthisaftermathof violence,
didI feel likeI hadbeguntounderstandtheboundariesof thiscommunity I had
nally arrivedinJ ewishBuenosAires.
8
DreamworkandPunishmentinLebanon
J ohn Borneman
DreamWork
Weoftenimaginecountries andcities as mythical dreamscapes cornucopias of
prosperity and abundant pleasures. For much of the twentieth century, Lebanon
andBeirut evokedsuchadreamscape: agloriouspast of cosmopolitanPhoenician
traders transformed into modern French-Arabic fusion; cool mountain homes
overlooking the warmMediterranean sea; and a capital city, Beirut, that show-
casedintellectual, cultural andeconomicsurprises. But amorerecent memory, of
theviolent civil war that ragedonandoff for seventeenyears, between1975and
1992, haslledthecupof plenty withsorrows. My owndreams, aswell asthose
of myLebanesefriends, inandnear Beirut, tendtosituatetheserecent memories,
aswell asour ownhistoriesof violenceanditsanticipation, inthesedreamscapes.
On my very rst evening in Beirut, in the summer of 1999, I slept tfully,
becauseof jetlag, I thought, until my friend, whomI will call A.,
1
calledacouple
of hourspast midnight toreassuremethat I wassafedespitetheloud, intermittent
boomsI washearing. Thesesounds, heexplained, weretheresult of Israeli planes
bombingpower plantsaroundthecityandit washighlyunlikelytheywouldbomb
Beirutitself. Until thatpointI hadbeenunabletoorder thesesoundsinmydreams
and, until A.s call, I surmisedthat perhaps someonewas buildingthroughout the
night the reconstruction of the downtown was proceeding full steam and I
simply wonderedwhy thesoundsweresoloud.
I hadamuchmoredisturbingdreamonasummer night inlateAugust, 2001, as
I was preparingto leaveBeirut to do eldwork insouthLebanon. Shortly before
my rst visit toLebanon, thesouthhadbeenliberatedfromanIsraeli occupation
that began in 1985and ended, abruptly, with acompletewithdrawal, on 24May
2000. Hezbollah(Partyof God), thevictoriousorganizersof theresistance, called
the withdrawal an emancipation. It was unexpected and stunned everyone,
119
includingtheLebanesetothenorth, whoweresuddenly chargedwithintegrating
andadministeringaterritoryandapeople poorer, lesseducated, lessskilled, less
developedthanthem, inshort, backward for which, inthepast, they hadoften
shirkedresponsibilityand, whileunder Israeli control, assumedonlyarepresenta-
tional or ideological alliance. I wastryingtounderstandLebanesenotionsof pun-
ishment, how, specically, collaborationwiththeenemy meaning, withIsrael
wasunderstoodandpunished(or not), andhowthisrelatestothepost-civil-war
integrationof Lebanesesociety, whatever that might mean.
Beforethis tripto thesouth, I dreamt that I hadbeenaccusedof improprieties
thewordinthedreamwasharassment whileteachingat Cornell University,
thoughI amnowandwas inthedreamalso aprofessor at Princeton. I expected
theseimproprietiestobesexual innature. But at thetimeI wasunabletorecollect
anactual offense, andthisinabilitytospecifythewrongjarredmeoutof mysleep,
sweaty even though thesweltering heat and humidity of theBeirut summer had
alreadypassedintoadeepwarmthsoftenedbytheoccasional oceanbreeze. I woke
upbecauseinmydreamI didnot know, I wasunabletospecifyor act upon, what
or to whomexactly I had donewrong, and this disturbing senseof having com-
mittedanoffenseof whichI wasunawarekept meawakefor sometime.
Thenext day, I relatedthedreamtoafriendI will call H., aShiawhogrewup
inthesouth, whohadagreedtoaccompanymeonthistrip. Herst toldmeof his
vividandstrangedreamof thepreviousnight: Hewokeupdead. Then, aswedrove
insearchof his grandfathers villainthemountains of thesouth(vacatedduring
the civil war/occupation, occupied by a refugee family the last fteen years),
whichhadasmall ridingstableattachedbelowit, heofferedanexplicationof my
dream: therewasaconnectionbetweenmyformer career withhorsesandtheword
harassment, whichis relatedto theFrenchwordharas, meaningastudfarm,
aplacefor thereproductionof horses.
Then H. moved to the difference between the French words manege and
mnage, whichparallelsadiscrepancybetweenmyformer andpresent life. Inthe
former, I wasworkingwithhorses(inaridingschool, manege), andleadingalife
of ounderingandlust, asinamnagetrois; presently I work intheacademy
andleadamorerestrictedlifeof couples. ThereareFrenchexpressionsfor this
difference, J ai fait monmnage, versusJ esuisenmnage. I wasbringingmy
domestic lifefromthetimeI workedwithhorses, prior to reenteringacademics,
intoadreamof thepresent. Mypast impropriety, or harassment, ishauntingme
today.
H. alsothought mynot knowingof thisharassment wasrelatedtotheEnglish
doubleno/know: bothtomyinabilitytoknow thewrong(whichawakenedme
inthedream) andtoaninabilitytosay, or toaccept, no fromothers(whichcon-
stitutes thelegal impropriety of harassment). I delightedintheseclever observa-
tions, plausibleintheLebanesecontext, whereconversations amongthoseinthe
educated middle-class constantly switch registers from English to French to
120 Violence
Arabic, sometimes withinthesamesentence, thoughmost oftenspeakers digress
intothelanguagewithwhichtheyaremost comfortable, or whichtheywereusing
at thetimeof anexperience, usually Frenchor Arabic. This situational linguistic
competenceis part of alarger emotional economy: mostly Frenchfor intellectual
or philosophical topics, mostlyArabicfor intimacies. Englishtendstobeanadult
language, for academic or commercial use, a language for communicating with
outsiders(suchasmyself), whileArabicandFrencharelearnedwiththeaffection
anddisciplineof childhood.
H., who was working on a masters degree in philosophy, had been a news
anchor for theFrenchtelevisionstationinLebanon. Withtherationalizationof its
workforce, hereceivedasettlement andwasmost recently shapingthesalesmes-
sages for some advertising companies. His control of all three languages is so
playful andexceptional that it puts my ownlinguistic skills to shame. Hencemy
ownexplanationof thedreamwasmoreprosaic, or at-footed, asI saidtoH. It
was foremost about my identication with Lebanese collaborators during the
Israeli occupation, who also insisted that they were doing nothing wrong just
feeding their families, nding unskilled work as maids or day laborers in San
Diego-styleIsraeli homesandintheirrigatedgreeneldsontheterracedhillson
theother sideof thefrontier or, in select cases, cooperating in administration of
theoccupation, inthearrest anddetentionandinterrogation, includingtorture, of
Lebaneseresisters Israel calledthemterrorists totheIsraeli occupation.
My dreamleft mespeechless, andanxiousabout theneedfor punishment. But
whose? My dreamanticipated, I suspect, failed expectations in my eldwork in
Lebanon, aconict within my conscience, between what I shoulddo andwhat I
might beabletodo.
CollaborationandPunishmentinSouthLebanon
South Lebanon, at the time of my visit, had two large memorials to the Israeli
occupation, onean emptied detention/interrogation center in Khiam, theother a
memorial toamassacreinaformer U.N. shelter inQana.
Thedetentioncenter inKhiamisnowamuseumof adetentioncenter. It sitsat
thetopof ahill overlookingthevalleysbelowand, indeed, muchof thesouth. Like
most of theformer Israeli outpostsinthesouth, it wasonceafortress, datingback
tooneof theCrusades, thenusedby theFrenchbeforetheIsraelis expandedand
partlymodernizedit. Friendly, bearded, soft-speakingHezbollahmengreet H. and
I, andtell us to park our car near arustingmilitary water tank left behindby the
occupiers. Therst object wepass, onour right, isaset of small, lacquered, hand-
held missiles used in the resistance, so glossy that they appear like the candied
marzipanfor whichLebanonandSyriaarerenowned, thoughunusually large, as
if stricken by elephantiasis. On our left stood a man selling a childrens book,
DreamworkandPunishment inLebanon 121
Sharonal-Shareer (SharontheEvil One), camouagedinacover markedsimply
May 25 (the date of emancipation).
2
The cover depicts a dreammontage that
includesaphotoof SayyedH. Nasrallah, theHezbollahleader, awomanseyes, a
resister settingretoaagandthegoldendomeof theDomeof theRockMosque
in J erusalem. Thebook tells thestory of children with stones defeating theevil
Sharonanddrivinghimfromtheir land. I bought one.
Thenwegothroughtheactual roomsandbarracks.Yellowmetal platesattached
to the walls state in Arabic and poorly translated English the function of the
spaces: A Typical Individual RoomBeforeRedCrossEntry,A CollectiveRoom
After theEntranceof theRedCrossin1995, A Roomfor Investigationwiththe
Helpof theTraitors, TheHall of Torturing: Burying-Kicking-Beating-Applying
Electricity-Pouring Hot Water-Placing aDog Beside, An Open Spacefor Sun:
Ten Minutes Every Ten Days For Females. Theplates intend to singularizethe
administrativecrueltyof Israeli detentionmethods, todrawattentiontotheration-
alizationof all tasks andfunctions, this roomfor tortureininterrogation, that for
cooking, another for washing, for sleeping, for the jailers or the detained, for
womenor men, aspacefor solitaryconnement, for visitswithnonprisoners. My
rst thought, though, was that I could probably nd this evil in every continent,
perhaps eveninamuseumof adetentioncenter inevery continent. Ononewall
over anIsraeli agI readthegrafti: Who arethecauses for War? Onanother
wall: All J ewsMust Die.
The roomfor womens access to the sun is slightly larger than but otherwise
similar to theothers: acement slaboor of about two squareyards. H. dubs it a
sundeck. I laugh. But shortly after, H. feelsqueasy andhastoleave. I walk on.
Theyellowplatesemphasizeanimportant distinctionbetweenroomsconstructed
beforeandafter theRedCrosswasgrantedaccesstotheprisoners. After theRed
Crossledareport, mostdetaineeroomswereenlarged, andbedsreplacedcement
oors for sleeping. Most rooms havenowindows andmost arejust largeenough
for aprisoner of moderatesizetolieproneontheoor or toturnaroundinwhile
standing up. Two special rooms areequipped for electric torture, themetal con-
ductor grids still hanging fromthe ceiling, the actual machines and devices, a
guidetellsme, takenbacktoIsrael. I amsurprisedtheIsraelisdidnotdestroymore
of the evidence before they left but I amtold they left in a hurry. The Prime
Minister at thetime, EhudBarak, simplypulledout thetroopsonenight, anevac-
uationthat theIsraeli public seemedto expect but onethat left Lebanesescram-
bling for positions. Hezbollah, with a large on-the-ground resistance during the
occupation, wasthebest-organizedforcetostepintothisvacuum. Theykept their
weapons, despiteU.N. resolutionstotheeffect that they shoulddisarm, andmore
or lesstook over policingthesouth.
The outer courtyard replicates the recently-abandoned look, except for four
paintings, unmistakablyHezbollahart: computer-generated, glitzy, paintedimages
of doves ying above sts graspingAK-47 assault ries and smashing through
122 Violence
walls, of crescents, stars of Francisco, andwreckedtanks symbols of muscular
victory and cruelty, Islam and peace. Against a wall leans a large portrait of
Nasrallah, Hezbollahs leader, and mimeographed photos of slain ghters are
postedonthewall near theentrance. It strikes meas oddthat themuseumgives
thenames of somespecic Lebanesevictims, claimedas martyrs to thecause,
but does not nameany Lebanesecollaborators. Only Israelis aresingled out for
culpability. Later, afriendwhohadvisitedwithinweeksof thewithdrawal, inthe
summer of 2000, toldmeherememberedhavingseenalist of all suspectedcol-
laborators but, thenagain, nowheisunsurewhat heactuallysaw. Withintherst
several years of theIsraeli withdrawal therewas, except for afewisolatedexam-
ples, anotablelack of local recrimination lets call it revenge against people
whohelpedtoinformor administer theIsraeli occupation. Inthelatesummer and
fall of 2002, however, I begantohear afewrumorsof local extortionpracticedby
Hezbollahagainst Christiangroups.
Howthesouth was administered during and immediately after theoccupa-
tionis aquestionof perspective, andtherearemany. ThemoreI ask about local
details, the more fragmented the picture. During the occupation, the south
remained formally a part of the state of Lebanon; its residents retained their
Lebanesecitizenshipandweremoreor lessfreetomoveback andforthbetween
northernandsouthernLebanon, andsome, inalabor capacity, toIsrael. Although
U.N. observers and peace-keepers were stationed on the border between
Lebanon and Israel and had a minimal presence in some of the villages, they
seemedtohavelittleeffect onhoweither theLebaneseor theIsraelis conducted
their affairs. Israel still bombed, conductedsurveillancemissionsandmadetheir
presenceknownat will, theLebanesereactedandadjusted. Hezbollah, andto a
lesser extent Amal, organized theresistance. They also assumed thebasic func-
tions of the state during the occupation, providing minimal social and public
assistance, primarily health careand infusions of outsidecapital that kept local
economiesfromcollapsing. Israel wasconcernedsolelywithitsownsecurityand
military goals, todeploy theentiresouthas abuffer or security zone devoid
of people; hence, theysought tokeeptheareabackwardeducationally, culturally,
andeconomically.
Asfor Israeli tortureof civilians, I hadalreadymetavictim, in1999, onmyrst
visit toBeirut. A taxi driver, uponhearingthat I amAmerican, revealedthat heis
Palestianian. America is good, a friend, he proclaimed, before stretching his
gnarledhandacross theseat to showmeascar onhis wrist, andastubof an-
gernail, which, hesaid, hadbeenyankedout duringoneof histenyearsinIsraeli
prisons. HethenpulledhisT-shirt over his right shoulder, andwitheachgesture
his eyes ashedmoreangrily, to showmeagapinghole, which, hesaid, healso
got inprison inKhiam, infact andhewantedmetotouchit, whichI did. He
still hasthekeytohisfamilyhouse, inHaifa, andhegesturedtoshowmewhatthe
key looks like. His grandfather had taken it with him when he was evicted.
Americaisgood, herepeated, afriend. Inresponsetoacomment of mine, he
assertedthat Clintondidnt likeNetanyahu, andthat EhudBarak, theIsraeli Prime
Minister at thetime, represented somehope. But thereis no placefor J ews in
Palestine, hesaid, they shouldleave. To where? I ask. Wherever, hereplied,
toAfrica. This was my rst exposureto aclaimof Israeli torture, my rst con-
frontation with bodily evidence, and I realized how inextricably this present
episodeof Lebanese-Israeli historyiswoundupwiththeJ ewish-drivenexpulsions
of Palestiniansbeginningin1948.
Largely becauseof this Israeli policy in thesouth of Lebanon, between 1978
and the time of the Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon the population in the
south declined from600,000 to an estimated 65,000, with most of the refugees
settling in the southern suburbs of Beirut. The long-term impact of making
the south secure for Israel was to make it unsafe for local residents; Israeli
demands for collaboration poisoned relations between members of the various
sects. Long-terminsecuritywasalsoinsuredthroughtheIsraeli policyof planting
approximately70,000landminesall over theplace, whichU.N. personnel (part of
UnitedNations InterimForceinLebanon[U.N.I.F.I.L.]), mostlyAfricans experi-
enced in mine removal on their own terrain, are presently trying to nd and
remove.
At the end of May 2002, within a week of the liberation, 6,000 south
Lebanese, mostly members of Israels former proxy militia, theSouth Lebanese
Army(S.L.A.), andtheir families, leftLebanon mostlytoEuropeviaIsrael, with
at least half reportedly sent toGermany. Withinsix monthsof theliberation, mil-
itary tribunals began to hold marathon sessions up to three times a week, and
charged 2,200 Lebanese including some of those who had already left the
countrywithcollaboration, handingdown800verdicts, frequentlyreachedafter
two or threeminutes of deliberation. Of thosewho hadleft, 202returnedwithin
six months; othershavebeentricklingback since.
Defenselawyersworkedout apleabargaindeal withprosecutorstodividecol-
laborators thoseincontactwiththeenemy intofour categories.
3
Therstwas
for thosewhohadworkedinIsrael, thesecondfor thosewhohadworkedincivil
administration, thethird for soldiers of theS.L.A., and thefourth for thosewho
hadworkedinintelligence/security. Convictionfor thersttwocategoriesresulted
inaneof approximately $200andaperiodof detention, which, inmost cases,
hadalready beenservedbetweenthetimeof theinitial arrest andrelease. South
LebaneseArmy soldiers got six to eighteen months prison, intelligence/security
employees six to fteen years. Only oneofcer of theS.L.A. surrendered; most
weresentenced in absentia. By October 2001, fty-four high-level collaborators
hadbeensentencedtodeath, all inabsentia, meaningthat they wouldbegranted
aretrial if andwhenapprehended. Althoughdeathbyhangingislegal, it hadbeen
suspendedafter LebanesePresidentEmileLahoudtookofceinNovember 1998.
4
Many sentences wereimmediately appealed, rst to asuprememilitary tribunal,
124 Violence
thentoaciviliancourt of cassation, andboththetribunal andcourt reversedsome
verdictsor lessenedsentences.
Israeli occupationpolicyhadallowedoneLebaneseper familytoworkinIsrael
providedthat eachfamily also offeredonemanto work for theS.L.A. to protect
thesecurityzone.Mostof thosewhodidnotagreewiththispolicyeither vacated
their land and residenceand becamedisplaced internal refugees in therest of
Lebanon. Or they workedcovertly withtheprimarily ShiiteHezbollahresistance
movement. Hezbollahsupporteditsassociates, inturn, withcurrencyfromabroad,
most of whichlikely camefromSyriaor Iran, or diasporaLebaneseinAustralia,
Europe, or theU.S. Israel enforceditsemploymentpolicyacrosssectarianlines, so
that between 50 per cent to 80 per cent of the S.L.A. members were Shiites,
dependingontheir proportioninthelocal population. Consequently, some2,000
Shiitessurrenderedimmediatelyafter theIsraeli evacuation, knowingtheyhadno
placetoee. Muslimlawyers, under pressurenottodefendtheaccused, wereoften
themselves then accused of collaboration, although none, to my knowledge, was
punished.
Hezbollahobjectedtoanysuggestionof ageneral amnesty, ashadbeengranted
following the long civil war, or wars, in 1991, insisting that individuals had to
engageinrepentance (tawbah) asthemeansfor political puricationbeforethat
couldbeconsidered. Thistermtawbah istakenfromaShiitereligiousinterpre-
tationof thedoor of repentance (babel-tawbah), throughwhichonemust pass
inorder toleavethecycleof earthandenter anewcycleof time. By insistingon
theapplicability of thiscondition(puricationthroughthedoor of repentance) in
the military-political-jural domain, Hezbollah ended up accommodating its reli-
gious doctrineto, insteadof tryingtoreplace, thesecular legal institutions of the
Napoleonic tradition. Lebanonretains alegal structuresimilar to that theFrench
hadimposed. Oneofcial explainedtomethat althoughHezbollahspublicstance
oncollaboratorswasradical, inpracticetheywerepractical, oftenarguingleniency
for somefamilies, exilefor others who might voteagainst them. Inother words,
for Hezbollah, aterritorial displacement (exile) could substitutefor aprocess of
puricationleadingtoatemporal metamorphosis(emancipationintoaneworder).
SomepeoplewithwhomI spokeconcludedthatswiftlegal actionbytheLebanese
stateeffectively took theplaceof what wouldhavemost likely beenpopular vio-
lenceagainst collaborators. As most southern Lebanesewho strongly wanted to
condemncollaborators also sharedinthedifculties of survival duringtheoccu-
pation, agreat measureof ambivalencemarkedpopular attitudes.
In the reckoning with Israeli occupation, equally if not more signicant than
legal punishment areritesof commemoration: thesymbolicretributionor perform-
ativeredress in cultural work, such as turning sites of Israeli tortureand murder
intomuseums, whicharetobevisitedritually withnoforeseeableend.
5
TheQanamuseumisthetwistedwreckageof amassacreinmuseumform. As
such, it isolder, better nanced, andmoreelaboratethanthememorial of Khiam.
A small Shiite village, Qana was the site of a 1986 Israeli massacre of 106
Lebanese civilians (with another 120 wounded), who were killed at a shelter
withinaU.N. peacekeepingbaseby several direct hits fromIsraeli missiles (800
people were in the shelter). Some U.N. soldiers in nearby buildings were also
killedandthey areallottedaseparateandlargememorial onthesamesite, which
lists their names andcountry of origin(most werefromFiji). At thetime, Israel,
caught in a war of attrition, its occupation stalled and ineffective at preventing
cross-border attacks, launched Operation Grapes of Wrath, a sixteen-day
artilleryandnaval assault, ostensiblytowipeoutHezbollahbases. TheIsraeli gov-
ernment claimedthat it wasunawareof civilianpresenceat theU.N. baseinQana,
but aU.N. investigationlater suggestedthat, sincetherewereseveral direct hitson
the base, it had likely been deliberately attacked.
6
The day of the massacre, 18
April, isnowanofcial day of mourningthroughout Lebanon.
H. andI aretheonlyguestswhenwearrive, andH. parkshiscar directlyacross
fromthesite, whichisonthemainstreet of thevillage. A youngman, dark-haired
withlarge, alert eyesandafull mouth, immediately comesover toaccompany us
throughtheexhibit. H. says that his witnessingto visitors, likeme, is considered
aformof religious service. Therst roomcontains aphoto documentary of the
massacre. He had memorized a lengthy story for each picture and he seems to
dwell onthemost gruesomephotographsof thedead, withtheir bloodybodyparts
strewnaroundthesite. I tell him, I knowthisstory already.
But I want totell it toyou, herepliesmatter-of-factly.
I amtoodisturbedbythegraphicimagestoremainpolite, soafter afewminutes
I simply abandonhimwhilehetalksandI walk intothenext room, alargespace
withanexhibit of theartwork of collegestudentsinspiredtopaint theevent, what
theexhibit calls aHolocaust. But theguidefollows me, andI becomeincreas-
ingly irritatedas hecontinues to narratethestory of themassacre, inanassured,
measured, monotonevoice.
Toovercomethisirritation, I trytoeroticizehim, inparticular hismouth, which
appearstomesensuous, butalsocrooked, asif someinjuryor birthdefectwaspre-
venting thefull rangeof movement of his lips. I think, perhaps I amprojecting
crookedness onto his mouth in order to distancemyself fromhis voiceover. The
pictureswithsmall textsbeneatharethemselvessufcient, inmymind, toportray
theenormity of theIsraeli crime. I ndthecomparisonwiththeHolocaust over-
wrought, an attempt to bestow signicance on a massacre by elevating it to the
crimeof genocide. Nonetheless, themuseumguidesdemandsonmefollowavery
correct and rigorous logic, which begins with the presupposition that the
Holocaust is thesinequa non of modern terror and suffering. It follows that all
subsequentexperiencesof thiskindwill bemeasuredbythestandardof theJ ewish
Holocaust.
However, I want to resist what I taketo bethepolitical instrumentalizationof
myempathy, anattempttoturncompassionintoanti-J ewishsentiment. TheJ ewish
126 Violence
Holocaust wasaGermanevent, theQanamassacreof LebaneseShiitesanIsraeli
event. Separate, singular states, societies, historical eras, genealogies, sequences
of events andcrimes. This youngmanappears towant of menot only empathy
for his losses but alsoarevisionof my understandingof theJ ewishShoa. I leave
adonationandconvinceH. toexit thecity without rst havingacoffee, whichis
our custom.
AnArabDream
DuringthistriptoLebanonin2000, I alsovisitedthecity of Aleppo, innorthern
Syria, accompanied by my two Beiruti friends, H. and A.. Because nothing of
political signicanceinLebanoncouldtakeplacewithout at least tacit approval of
the Syrians, I thought it important to include Syria as much as possible in any
researchonLebanon. After our rst night, A. wakesupsweating, eventhoughthe
air conditioner had overly cooled our room. He relates the following dream: I
cameto your place, not your homeinPrinceton, but avery bigvilla, likeasub-
urban house, with marble oors, perhaps like our hotel, a remodeled fteenth-
century villa. Youaresittingonacouch, andyouarethehost. Youareshowinga
lmmadeby Derrida.
I ampuzzled: DoesDerridamakelms?
Therearemanyother guests, childrenandfamilies, andpeopleof all ages, womenand
men. Thefilmis extremely violent, akindof collectiveviolence, amassacre, people
arecuttingeachother up. I wonder why youareshowingthis filmto thesepeople. It
seems inappropriate. Yet I amnot disturbed, for Iveseen this filmbefore. Thefilm
begins near theend, andonly thenproceeds to thebeginning. Nothingreally happens
withthespectators, who just sit quietly andwatch. I myself was never afraid. No one
acts out; infact, thereis no shock effect. But I ask, again, why areyoushowingthis
film?AlthoughI hadseenit before, actually youandI aretheintendedaudience; the
othersareanunintendedaudience, only spectators.
Thereisanother scene, alsointhedream, somethingabout cruising, but theguy I am
interestedingoesout withyousomewhereinstead, helikesyou.
Thethreeof usdiscussthisdream. It isthememory of atraumatic event, andit
bringsthismemoryintothepresent. Itisanencounter withthismemorythatinvites
A. tomakesenseof hisowntrauma theLebanesecivil war that accompaniedhis
childhoodandyouth. Syriaprompts memory of thewar, as hespent many happy
summerswiththefamilyof hisnannyinSyria. AndperhapsSyria, beingamajority
Sunnitecountry, hadseemedarespitefromthesectarianismof LebanonforA.. He
hadbeenraisedinarespectedSunni family but over thecourseof thewar Sunnis
wereincreasingly marginalized and threatened by sectarian divisions. UnlikeH.,
whoseentirechildhood was spent in Lebanon during thewar, A. spent oneyear
away, inAfricawith abrother. But that escapefromthewar was also separation
fromhisparents. Thus, it isperhapspropitiousandmoresafe for A. todreamof
theLebanesetraumainSyria, aplaceheassociateswithchildhoodinnocence.
Thesequenceof thelmscreening, fromendback tobeginning, replicates the
latency inherent intrauma that theoriginal sceneis unrecoverableandrecogni-
tion possible only in reverse, after the fact. A. says the images in the lmwere
painting-like, but still very violent. Herememberssomeoneinthedreamwearing
redbut intheDerridalmyoucouldnot seetheactual victims. Hesituatesmeas
theintellectual guideinvitingothers to react by screeningthelm. I amactively
intervening, as I do in eldwork, showing the victims story from within the
trauma, while A. is placed in the screening, having to watch others watch the
slaughter, which is subjectinghimto akind of sadistic moment. But, then, I am
not theauthor of thelm. I ammerelyscreeningalmproducedbysomeoneelse,
bythephilosopher Derrida. Moreover, A. isnot frightenedbyit, sincehedseen
it before and he is, like Derrida, adept at reading.
7
The audience, being like a
family, withmothersandkids, alsoseemsfamiliar withthelmsstory andexpe-
riencesnoshock inviewing. Theaudienceis, infact, truly spectral becauseit has
no apparent relationtoA. andis not itself placedinthetrauma. They just watch,
which is perhaps the key to their culpability, the culpability of the protective
Lebanesefamily that couldmerely watchandnot interveneinthewar.
A.sdreamwaspartly provokedby anencounter wehadhadthepreviousnight
with two Syrian-Armenians, a dentist who resides in Aleppo and an interior
designer who moved with his family two years ago to Paris but visits every
summer. Wearesitting, at aroundmidnight, inacafinaseriesof manyAleppian
cafes, all of themfull, acrossfromthehugetwelfth-centurycitadel built todefend
Aleppo against theCrusaders. Menareengagedinlively conversationas well as
inchessandcardgamesandbackgammon, andthereismuchsmokingof thenar-
guila. Everyoneispleasantandrelaxed; I detectnoneof thetensionthatI associate
withthedictatorships withwhichI amfamiliar fromeldwork inthecommunist
regimesof East-Central Europebefore1990.
Conversation with the designer switches between Armenian, French, and
Arabic, whilethedentist speaks perfect English, as do my Lebanesefriends. The
dentist states that heenjoys discussingpolitics. I ask himwhyAleppo appears to
metobesuchafreeplacewhentheyarelivingunder adictatorship, inwhatissup-
posed to be a condition of unfreedom. He says that the ubiquitous pictures of
Hafez el-Assad, Syrias political father who ruledfor threedecades, areajoketo
theSyrianpeople. I shouldnot takethemseriously, asindicatorsof any behavior,
or what wecall cult of personality. Peopleput themup and ignorethem. The
government has no fear of public places, he says, it is only large gatherings in
privatethat they fear. Arethereany social movements or public demonstrations
here? I ask. Theonly demonstrationsherearepro, heremarksandsmiles.
128 Violence
I ask about Hama, the place where, in 1982, Rifaat el-Assad, the brother of
Hafez, massacred some30,000 to 40,000 members of theMuslimBrotherhood,
whoat thetimewereintent ontopplingthesecular, Baathist-ledregime. (Onour
way to Aleppo, my friends and I had stopped in Hama, a bustling old city that
Assad, after the massacre, had spatially reorganized: bulldozing the center and
movingit toanother spaceakilometer away inanattempt toeffaceany traces of
this event.) As our friends responses wereopenandarticulate, I risk askinghim
thedelicatequestionof his reactionto this violence. I struggleto phraseaques-
tion, not wantingtousethewordtrauma, andthereisnoArabicequivalent, but as
hehearsmesaytheword, heusesit himself inturn, makingmystrugglelooksilly.
I ask, Is Hama a trauma in Syria? No, he says, the event does not at the
moment exist.
Hesuddenlychangesregisters, becomingpersonal andemotional. Asachildof
ve, heremembersstoriesof themassacreat thetime, but nothinglikethat could
bediscussed, hesays, and it will not befor avery long time. Along theway, he
introducesthephrase, theSyriantrauma. I sensesomeguilt inthisadmission, a
guilt concerninghissilenceafter thefact of massmurder. Then, hetellsusastory
of how, as ayoung adult, hegavedirections to two German tourists. Thepolice
quicklypickedhimupandtookhiminfor questioning.Ashetellsthestoryittakes
onaliveallegorical qualityasthefactof intimidationbecomespalpable. Wenotice
amanat another table, who at rst didnot seemto understandEnglish, listening
intently tous.
Theconversationthenturns to lighter affairs theeffect of redirectionby my
Lebanesefriends. It islikely that for our Armenianacquaintancesanother violent
event lurks behindtheSyriantraumaof Hama, thenot-so-distant andstill widely
ignoredArmeniangenocideinTurkey. I darenot ask about this event unless they
themselvesintroduceit, whichtheydonot. Aleppowastherststopontheexodus
of thosewho escaped theTurkish slaughter. FromAleppo, survivors went on to
Lebanon, Iraq, theWest. Thesetwofamiliesstayed.
Later I ask my Beiruti friendsif they werebotheredby my intervention, during
whichtheyremainedunusuallysilent. Theybothadmit discomfort, whichleadsto
adiscussionof howI conduct eldwork, of myprovocativequestions, andof their
role as mediators, friends, and informants. On this particular evening, they had
agreedbetweenthemselveswithout tellingmetolet measkpeoplemoreintrusive
questions, sinceI hadnot yet talkedto anyoneinany depth. Someof our Syrian
acquaintances seemed to want to counter a common Lebanese conceit: that
Syrians are less educated or sophisticated than the Lebanese, that they are not
informed, not intellectual, perhaps because of political restrictions incapable of
understandingwhat isgoingonaroundthem.
My friendsreturntoA.sdream. A. istakingover my desire, they say, asinthe
cruising scene, but he ends up deserting me, or being left out, without under-
standing on what basis. Although I occupy theplaceof thephallus, it is unclear
whether A. desires me or merely my roles. In the dream, A. is unaccustomedly
passive. I placehiminthelmscreeningwithout forcinghimtodoanything, I set
thegroundsfor engagement, for questions, for viewing, whichinsomewayspar-
allels a deconstructive reading, hence the invocation of Derrida. In the cruising
scene, A. isinapositionwherehewantsto, andinfact should, takeover therole
of initiatinginteraction. But heis reticent, reluctant to provokeor risk impropri-
eties, afraidof thepotential consequencesandresponsibilitiesthat mayresult. His
consciousnessof propriety trumpshiscuriosity.
My own presence as ethnographer reframes our encounter with the two
Armenian men, however; it redenes themas collaborators (not to speak of the
applicabilityof thenave, older ethnographicterm: informant) inawaytheyare
not when merely talking to Lebanese. My presence undoubtedly invokes the
specter of policeinterrogation. I am, whenintheMiddleEast, alwaysasuspicious
person; my generation, my nationality, my profession, my unmarriedstatus and,
aboveall, my questions createtheproleof aprobablespy. Thosewho speak
withmeare, inmost cases, auntingtherulesof political censorshipandthereby
putting themselves under suspicion of betrayal. In eldwork, it is marginal men,
sexually, socially, politically, who mediate culture for me, who provide initial
contacts and initial explanations. And I have seen these same men mediate for
many other foreigners, irrespectiveof gender or sexual interest. Withmethey are
collaboratinginthedual registersof thesexual andthepolitical, andbecausethese
registersaresofundamental tosocial order theyarebetrayingthesecretsof social
organization. MyLebanesefriendsstresstomethat I cannot chooseinwhichreg-
ister tooperate. Neither I nor theycanseparate, for instance, myintellectual from
purelypersonal interests, andthiscreatesontheonehandexcitementandintimacy
but on the other discomfort because it leads them to suspect my motives for
knowingabout either register. It demands of themeither conscious collaboration
or distance.
While in Aleppo, we go to one of the oldest hamman (an Arab bathhouse),
where I meet a Palestinian man in his early twenties, there with his father, a
refugeefromIsraeli expulsionsin1947. TheyoungmanhadarrivedinAleppotwo
weeks earlier, hesaid, freshly deportedfromTexas, withonly ayear left to com-
pletehis studies inbusiness management. I donot knowwhether therewas justi-
ablereasonfor hisdeportation, but at theveryleast hedeservedahearingandan
explanation, which hesaid hedid not get. My intuition, drawn largely fromhis
demeanor, theway hetells his story without self-pity, suggests to methat heis a
falsesuspect intheU.S.snewwar onterror, ascapegoat intheaggressiveattempt
to nd a source external to America for its insecurities. I apologize to him,
althoughI amnoapositiontomakeamends.
130 Violence
Departure
On the morning of 5 September, I wake regularly every hour, anticipating my
departure. At 7a.m., I ariseandgiveM. awake-upcall onhis cell phone, as he
hadrequested. Heshowsupahalf-hour later todrivemetotheairport. M. drives
aservice, theBeirut taxi that chargesastandard1,000lira($0.75) andtakesyou
tothegeneral areainwhichyouaregoing, pickingupother passengersalongthe
way. Inevitablythereisconversationwiththeothersinthecab, andmuchexchange
of local gossip. I jumpedinM.sserviceseveral weeksbefore. Heignoredtheother
passenger and chatted with me about his daughters local chess successes and
about my research. I took down his number and employed himseveral times to
drivemelonger distances. Whereas most drivers try to chargememorethanthe
standardfare, onmy rst ridewithM., herefusedtotakeatip. Ontheway tothe
airport, amerefteen-minutedrivefromwhereI wasstaying, hesurprisedmeby
sayingthat helikedme. NoBeiruti haddonethat before, at least not sodirectly. I
likeyoutoo, I replied. Heexplainedthat I remindedhimof aBritishmanhehad
met, back intheearly 1980s, whohadtaught himEnglish. I wasjust likehim, he
said.
On therideto theairport, hetells meabout an event in 1986, which I subse-
quently verify. The U.S. had bombed Tripoli, the Libyan capital, looking for
Gadda but instead killing mostly women and children, including Gaddas
sixteen-year-old daughter. Shortly thereafter, Arab revolutionary gunmen, as
theywerecalledinthepress, abductedthismaninretaliationfor Britishcoopera-
tioninthebombingof Tripoli. At thetimeM.s friendwas preparingfor atripto
Londontovisit hismother. Hewasheldfor oneday, thenexecuted.
Thats very tragic, I mumble, unableto comeupwithamoreadequatecon-
dolence. M. does not remain silent, however. He quietly talked about other
murders inthemorerecent past, oneaMuslimmanwho killedseveral Christian
coworkers, motivated, M. thought, bysectarianhatred.
8
Onatripthepreviousday,
hepointedout tomeaspot ontheroadwheretheonly sonof awealthy acquain-
tancehadbeenkilledinatrafc accident. Andononeof my other trips withM.,
hehadtoldmeof themurder of hissixteen-year-oldnephew, another only son, in
Detroit.
This accumulating condence and intimacy began to overwhelmme, and M.
slowedthecar toacrawl tohaveenoughtimetocompletethestory of hisBritish
friends murder. Therewas alot of violenceback then, I said. Thesecurity is
much better today, hereassured me. I amstill puzzled as to why M. chosethis
moment, themorningof my departure, toimplicatemeinhisloss.
M. parks the car and, always gently smiling, demonstrates the hospitality for
whichArabsarefamous: Hecarriesmybagstothepassportcontrol, thenwaitsfor
meas guards check my identity, thenwaits for meas my luggagepasses through
the infrared sensors, then waits for me as I recede into the distance and pass
throughadoor that blocks further vision. Heworries, andhecares. Lesouci des
autres.
Postscript, 23August2006
During the summer of 2006, as I made nal changes to this manuscript, Israel,
respondingbothtoaraidbyHezbollahforcesintoitsterritory, inwhichtwoIsraeli
soldiers wereabducted and threeothers killed, and to afailed rescuemission in
whichvemoresoldiers werekilled, systematically attackedLebanon. Inthirty-
four days of bombings, some1,191Lebanesewerekilled, 4,490wounded, nearly
all civilians, one-third children under twelve, and 900,000 civilians were dis-
placed. Ontheother side, some159Israelis werekilled(nearly all soldiers), 997
injured, and 300,000 displaced. Estimates of destroyed Lebanese infrastruc-
ture(road, bridges, buildings) total over $3.6billion. Muchof this infrastructure
hadbeenrebuilt inthevery period four years that elapsedsinceI rst deliv-
eredthis essay as atalk. Israel claimedthat it was only tryingtoprovidesecurity
to its citizens by destroying theHezbollah militiaand securing thereleaseof its
captured soldiers. European governments criticized Israel but did nothing more
than evacuate their own citizens; the U.S. government ofcially approved of
Israelseffortsandevenexpeditedtheshipmentof additional sophisticatedarmsto
Israel.
9
Notes
1. Nameshavebeenabbreviated.
2. Thechildrens book is referringtoAriel Sharon, theIsraeli General (andlater
PrimeMinister) inchargeof the1982invasionof Lebanon. AnIsraeli govern-
ment commission later charged Sharon with indirect responsibility for his
rolein themassacreof Palestinians in theSabraand Shatilarefugeecamp in
southBeirut duringtheinvasion. For thisoffense, Sharonwasindictedin2001
in aBelgiumcourt, though theBelgiumparliament in 2003 changed thelaw,
leadingtoadismissal of thecase. SeeBorneman(2004a).
3. Muchof myinformationonthemilitarytribunalscomesfromdefenselawyers.
I especially thank George Assaf from the Human Rights division of the
LebaneseBarAssociationfor discussioninSummer 2003, aswell astheBeirut
legal ofcesof Chibli Mallat.
4. Lebanon has a history of opposition to the death penalty. Between 1972 and
1994, only one judicial execution was carried out. However, at least thirteen
peoplewereexecutedafter 1994, twoof thempublicly, justiedlargelyasdeter-
rencein theaftermath of thecivil war. PrimeMinister SalimHos imposed a
moratoriumin 1998 and thereafter refused to sign any execution orders. In
132 Violence
J anuary 2004, however, executions resumed threemen, oneby hanging, two
by ringsquad, convictedof murders.
5. For further elaborationof thedifferent modesof accountability, seeBorneman
(1997, 2002, 2003, 2004b).
6. United States Major-General Franklin van Kappen conducted an ofcial, on-
siteinvestigationthreedaysafter themassacre. HisReport dated1May 1996
of the Secretary-Generals Military Adviser concerning the shelling of the
United Nations compound at Qanaon 18April 1996, thebasis for arevised
report issuedby former U.N. Secretary General Boutros Ghali, concludedthat
while the possibility cannot be ruled out completely, it is unlikely that the
shellingof theU.N.I.F.I.L. compoundwas theresult of gross technical and/or
procedural error (see relevant documentation on the websites of Amnesty
International and Human Rights Watch: www.amnesty.org/news/1996/
51504996.htm and www.hrw.org/hrw/summaries/s.israel-lebanon979.html,
bothaccessed5December 2008). Seealsotheeyewitnessreportingby Robert
Fisk, present theday after thekilling, inFisk (2002: 673) andthesummary of
thecaseinKing-Irani (1999).
7. There is another possible understanding of the reference to Derrida in the
dream, brought tomy attentionby GregoireMallard, whomI thank for thefol-
lowinginterpretation. AsA. isuentinFrench, hemaybefollowingasetof lin-
guisticassociationsanddisplacements, inwhichhesubstitutesDerrida for se
derider, averbthat meanstorelax. Whensomebody disturbsyou, or makesan
offensiveor threatening comment about you, you usually react by making an
angry face, and in making that facemany wrinkles appear (wrinkles trans-
latesinFrenchasrides). But whenyourealizethat thecomment wasnot meant
tobethreateningor offensive, yourelax andyour facede-wrinkles (literally
translated, sede-rider). A.s invocationof Derridamay beabout anattempt to
relax inthefaceof thethreat posedby theviolent imagesof bodiesinthelm
of amassacre.Theother spectatorsinthescreeningaresurprisinglynonplussed,
but A. may feel threatenedby theviolenceresurfacinginlight of my research
onthetopic, whichI amaskinghimtowitness. Tomaketheimageslessoffen-
sivetomeandalleviatemy discomfort, Il sederida: herelaxes.
8. Two years after M. toldmethis story, this very samemanis oneof threeexe-
cuted, intherst useof thedeathpenalty inLebanoninsix years. Seenote4.
9. For ananalysis of why therewereno prosecutions for theconduct of this war,
seeBorneman(2007).
9
UnwelcomedandUnwelcoming
Encounters
AnnarosePandey
I had been to Sidi Ifni before and it had been a charming, southern Moroccan
city. On my rst visit I had been traveling around Morocco with the man who
was my husband at the time. We have since gotten divorced, to some extent
because of my experiences in Morocco. When I returned, this time to do
myeldwork, I wasrentingasmall roomnext toahouseandwaslivingalone. My
status as an available woman was thus conrmed. I hate to repeat all the
clichsabout havingonescultural lensesrubbedcleanbut I really didassume
that sinceI had met many of thetownspeoplebefore, with asocially sanctioned
male chaperone, I would experience a relatively smooth transition to becom-
ingamember of thecommunity. What I didnot realizewasthat myrst visit con-
rmedmy identity as asexually availablewomanwhosesexuality was protected
by the signier of the male guardian. When I returned to Sidi Ifni, I was a
woman who was already sexualized and unescorted. Where was the male
arbiter of mysexuality?Whowouldstepintoll thisrole?Thusbeganmyadven-
tures in trying to live through days of violence, depression, hateful encounters
and questioning of the entire discipline to which I had heretofore dedicated my
life.
Rabat hasbeenmyhomefor twomonthsasI practicedmyDarija, or Moroccan
Arabic. I lovedbeinginthistown, whichthatwasbothrelativelycosmopolitanand
yet full of thesamepeopleonmywalktoclasseveryday. I bought mycoffeefrom
thesamemanevery morning; I got my olivesfromthesamehanout (small shop)
owner every evening. They werethebest olives I ever had and henever tired of
remarkingonmy ownremarkableability to eat thetasty littletreats. I was inthe
honeymoonstagesof pre-eldwork.
On11September, I walkedto school throughthesamewindingmedinaalleys
thatI alwayshad. I wouldfeedall of thestraycatslittlebitsof eggandbreadwhile
135
the local kids mocked me for being one of those sappy foreigners who cared
about such wretched creatures. I got to the school and met a wall of confusion
andtearsassomeof theother studentscalledtheir familiesinapanic. Theschool
was a language center for visitingAmericans, either on the Fulbright exchange
or through various American colleges. There were two other students who lost
family members that day. I went back to my roomandwas toldto wait for news
fromtheFulbright Commission as to thenext weeks plan. At rst thereactions
that we, asAmericans, received wereof genuineconcern for our families in the
states who may or may not havebeenimpacted. This supportiveoutreachturned
to a much more aggressive and hostile reaction to our American-ness as the
bombs began to drop in Afghanistan. Local media reported that the U.S. had
begun their war on Islam. I distinctly remember one newspaper article that
depicted thenameAfghanistan, written inArabic with thetall allif (sounds
likeah) lettersrepresentedasminaretsthat werebeingbombedbyanAmerican
plane.
Given these changes in Rabat, all of the people in my group decided to stay
and continue our research and I made arrangements to head south to Sidi Ifni
because I thought that given my previous visits to the town, I would be more
welcomed there than I was in Rabat as an American. I truly wanted to revisit
the zwaina (beautiful) town on the coast where Fellini would have loved to
lm a movie or perhaps Gabriel Garcia Marquez would have recognized an
Arabic versionof Macondo. I hadidealizedit totheextent that it presenteditself
asanidyllictown, ready for theanthropologistspen. FranciscoFrancohadtrans-
formed the village of Sidi Ifni in 1934 to become the perfect Spanish colonial
enclave. Sidi Ifni hadalovelypromenadeabovethebeach. Therehadbeenadance
hall, aglorious church, grandart deco plaza, alabyrinthfor thechildren, anair-
eldandevenanofcial buildingdesignedasashipsettingout tosea. Therehad
beenazoo andapool. A oodwashedout thezoo alongwithall of its creatures
onedayin1987. Thepool hadlongbeenabandonedandwaslledwithbeer cans
fromthemenintownwhoweregoodMuslimsandnever drank. It wasabeautiful
town.
It was beautiful because while most of the buildings had been crumbling for
yearsandthestenchof theopensewersmadethewater fetidandthebeachaplace
tobefeared, onecouldeasilyproject animageof thebeautythat oncewas. (Here,
I amawareof theclassical anthropological conceit of projectingauthentic and
nostalgic images of spaceandtimeonto eldwork sites.) Thecenter plazahad
onceserved as thehomefor amagnicent statueof Franco. Sometimein 1969,
oneof thetownspeoplehad shot off thehead of thestatue, leaving Franco with
shards of bronze where his neck was, pointing into the dusty sky. The church
remainedstandingbut thebell hadfallentothegrounddecadesearlier andstill sat
atopthevariousbookcasesthat it hascrushed. I foundoldBiblesinvariousnooks
and crevices of the church that were dusty but otherwise like new. The former
136 Violence
Spanish Consulatewas empty except for thestaircasethat had nally started to
crumbleandtheSpanishagthatremainedinthefoyer. I knewthefamilythathad
takenover theoldlibrary andwerelivingamongst thestacks. Most of thebooks
hadbeenburnedontheday, 30J une1969whentheSpanishleft, but therewere
still some original documents here and there between the familys belongings.
Goats and dogs lived on the roof. Garcia Marquez really would have loved this
place.
A visitor tothetownwouldassumethatitwaspeopledbyout-of-workmenwho
spent their days in idlediscussions about thelocal shing cultureand week-old
worldevents. Somepeoplehadtelevisions but thenewspapers arriveddays after
publicationandthemenwouldget together to readanddiscuss events. Thevery
fewwomenwithwhomonemighthaveencountersduringthedaywereeither non-
MuslimBerbers or those who had not yet reached puberty or who had passed
throughmenopause. Thelatter two categories of women, thepre- andpost-child-
bearingwomenwerenotconsideredhighlysexual andwerethereforeabletomove
morefreelythroughtheopenspacesof thetown. Veryfewtouristsventuredall the
way down the coast to Sidi Ifni, but of those who did, the occasional foreign
woman could be seen wandering the streets. Most often, these were German
tourists who had driven their Winnebago-like busses down from Agadir, the
nearest largecity.
The ofcial census puts the population of Sidi Ifni at approximately 20,000
but this includes the very rural Berber countryside. Having lived in Sidi Ifni, I
would argue that the full-time resident population was no more than 10,000
since many of the able-bodied men would travel for work, either to more
northern towns or off the coast on Spanish shing eets. Those who stayed in
townearnedalivingby shinginsmall andvery dangerous, certainly not water-
tight, boats. Wehadaverysmall soukwhereahandful of menandBerber women
or older Muslim women would sell vegetables, sh and meats including
camel, goat andchicken. Thetownwas not prosperous nor hadit beenfor some
time.
I lovedSidi Ifni andcommittedtostayingevenafter theexperiencesof myrst
days. I hadarrived, withmy husbandwho hadagreedto helpmesettleinbefore
returning to his own dissertation work. We moved into my apartment and were
tryingtogureout howtoworkthegastanktoboil water for dinner whenathud-
ding knock cameat thedoor. I expected neighbors but did not anticipatearmed
ofcials as the welcoming committee. The local suret nationale (police/
gendarmes) hadalready spokenwiththepeoplewho ownedmy apartment. I had
registeredmypassport andhadwhat papersI thought werenecessarytobeginmy
work. Instead, wewereaskedtocometothejail andhavealittletalkwiththeof-
cials about my reasons for being in thetown, renting an apartment and plans to
interviewtownspeople. I was clearly identiedbothby thelocal ofcials andthe
townspeopleas anAmericanwomanwhofor someoddreasonspokeArabic. My
UnwelcomedandUnwelcomingEncounters 137
useof Arabic was bothasourceof confusionandamusement becausefewinthe
town had met aforeigner, let aloneanAmerican, not to mention awoman who
spokethelocal Darija. Myrst visitstothesuretnationaletoexplainall of these
unusual attributes should have been a sign of what would come. This was the
beginningof what becameanutter farceinwhichI woulddaily besummonedto
thejail, askedmy citizenship, requiredto providemy passport andquestionedas
tomy motives.
I becamevery familiar withthelocal ofcials andat times weevengot along
quitewell. Wewouldjoketogether asthey helpedmewithmyArabic, sometimes
over verysweet tea. Theweekly, if not dailytripstothejail weresimplypart of my
routine. Itwasnotuntil someweekshadpassedthattwoother menbegantofollow
mearoundtown. I discoveredlater that theywerethereonordersof theMoroccan
government toprotect meas anAmericancitizenduringavery unsettlingtime
in Morocco-U.S. relations after 11 September. When I writethis, I can imagine
someone thinking, how would she know that they were following her? I know
becauseI wastheonlywomanwalkingaroundthestreetsduringthedayandthese
two men were always following behind me. I had to leave my apartment
unescortedso as to buy my vegetables for dinner. Wehadno refrigerationso the
traditional practicewastosendachildtothesouk(market) for thedaysrations. I
had to do this for myself. These men were always just a few paces behind me.
Whenaninternet cafopenedintown, they cametothecomputer next tomeand
like all of the other men in the caf, would watch American porn while they
glanced over at meand madevarious sounds of air sucking through their teeth.
While I can still hear the sound after years away it is difcult to describe. It
soundedlikeaballoonthatsomeonehadjusthadhislipsaroundthatwasreleasing
air through thewetness. This sound was not particular to Sidi Ifni and in fact I
heard men sucking air through their teeth in many locations. It signaled to me
something akin to awhistleinAmerican culturebut had amuch moreinsidious
connotation. Thesoundwas bothaperformanceto theother menpresent, akind
of machismo tactic but was also meant to signal me that the men were keenly
awareof my sexuality. WhenI was withMoroccanwomenandheardthis sound
thewomenwouldsay that themenwerebeinghaiba, whichloosely means dirty
anddisgusting.
I begantodevelopaseriousanxietyissuewithgoingtotheinternetcafbecause
while the lude gestures and sounds were disturbing, other men and boys also
startedtofollowmehome. Themenwhowerefollowingmenever triedtostopany
of this and certainly did nothing to indicatethat it was in their duty or desireto
change the situation for the better. I have no idea if they instigated any of the
harassment that camemy way but they certainly participated in it themselves to
suchanextent that they implicitly abettedtheother mens attempts to intimidate
me. I wouldwalkhomequicklyfromanypublicspaceliketheinternet cafes, with
my eyesandheaddown, but not sofast astobeseenrunning. I didnot makethis
138 Violence
tripveryoftenbecauseit left mereducedtoacryingpanicbythetimeI closedmy
door behindme.
Sometimes the boys and men would stand outside my door, occasionally
knockingandcallingattentionto themselves for hours. They hadnothingelseto
do and I supposethat thewholesituation was pretty entertaining for them. The
local childrenwouldalsobearoundmydoorway. I befriendedquiteafewof them
but thereweretwoyoungboysinparticular whotooktocallingmeawhore and
prostitute. I canonly assumethat they hadheardothersusethesenamesfor me
andweresimplypassingontheexpressions. Myownsexualitywasopentopublic
discussionprecisely becauseI hadarrivedintownwithamanandhadthenbeen
livingthereonmyown. Thisledtotheassumptionthat not onlywasI asexualized
woman but that sincetheman who would traditionally bemy acceptablesexual
partner wasnot around, I wasinneedof another man. Whilemost of thissexual-
izationwasadirectconnectiontomystatusof marriedandthussexuallyavailable,
muchof it canalsobeattributedtomy identityasanAmericanwoman. Theclear
andprevalent stereotypewasthatAmericanwomenhadinsatiablesexual appetites
that motivatedtheir everydecision. It wasassumedthat I waspromiscuousandso
the various advances made towards me were simply recognition of my implicit
desires. I was desirablebecauseI was not under any malesupervision, was sexu-
alizedbecauseI hadalready hadaman(albeit my husband) stayinginmy room
and I was anAmerican woman who obviously needed agreat deal of sex and
wouldbeopentoadvances. I ignoredtheboysandmenwhocalledtomeandspent
timechattingwiththeyounger kidswholovedtoshowmetheir booksanddraw-
ings. Thiswasarespitefor meinmany ways.
Another solacethat I foundwas takingcareof astray cat andthreepuppies. I
havealwaysbeenananimal person andfoundmyneedtocontinuethisafunda-
mental aspect of my sanity whiletherest of my eldwork seemedto begoingso
horriblyawry. Thecatwasalocal gureandwhileI wastheonlypersonwhoactu-
ally allowedhiminto my room, hewas not amajor issue. Thepuppies, however,
weremuch moreof an offenseto people. Dogs areconsidered to beparticularly
dirty to many Muslims in Morocco and this was denitely thecasein Sidi Ifni.
Cats wereseen as somewhat inevitableand at least abit useful in terms of their
huntingabilities. Dogscouldbekeptasprotectorsbutwerenottobetreatedkindly
becauseof their innatemeanness. Thefact that I wouldseekout andcarefor these
animalswascompletelyunacceptable. Ononeoccasionamanapproachedmeand
toldmethat I was awitchandshouldbeprosecutedfor feedingsuchdirty, dan-
gerouscreatures. Inhismind, only awitch wouldbeabletocommunicatewith
or even approach animals that were such a threat to people. He was genuinely
angry and threatened by what seemed to meto bean act of necessity fromone
living species to another. Thechildren heard this man oneday and decided that
they should also take action. As far as I know, two of the puppies were simply
killed. Thethird, theonewhomI eventriednottolove, metamuchmoresymbolic
fate. Shewas skinnedandthrownthroughmy window. Thechildrenlaughedand
went about their play.
I have a very difcult time saying that this was simply children doing what
children do becauseit seemed to meto becalculated and intentional. I do not
think that I will ever forget theimage. Moresignicantlyfor mepersonallyisthat
I cannot stopthinkingthat thiscreaturewastorturedbecauseI hadchosentohave
our pathsintersect. Sadly, thismoment markedmyexperienceanddeeplyaffected
my ability toengageinanthropological eldwork.
Anthropology, for me, hadalways beenavocational calling. I lovedthedisci-
plinebecauseit was bothcommonsenseandall encompassinginits perspective.
I hadalwaysspent agreat deal of timetravelingandlearninglanguages: eldwork
was a natural extension of my personal and academic needs and desires. My
husband, also an anthropologist, had loved eldwork even though his closest
friendsrobbedhimonhislastdayinCotedIvoire. Still, knowingthathelovedhis
researchsomuch, andeldwork was(andis) consideredamajor riteof passage, I
felt entirelyincompetent andinept inmytransitiontofullyedgedanthropologist.
If all of theseother peoplehadbeenabletosurviveeldwork, whycouldntI?Had
all of their storiesof wonderful, meaningful encounters, interviewsandconversa-
tions simply been fabrications or willful projections? Werethey simply perpetu-
atingthemyth?Yes, I honestly think that they were. Part of theirony is that even
thestandardeldworkhorror storyover adrinkafter theweeklyseminar struckme
aspart of thefaade. Theemperorsnewclothes becamemy workingmetaphor
for understandingtherepresentationof anthropological eldwork. Peoplegloried
boththeir successesandfailuresinsuchawayastolegitimatetheir newstatusas
posteldwork anthropologist. Really, what theydidseemtosharewasacollective
misrepresentationof what eldwork was andis. Thefailures witheldwork were
somehowleft behindwhenthey returnedfromtheeld. I wassimply incapable
of leavingtheseexperiencesbehind.
I expect that areader wouldsay that I shouldhavegottenover thesethingsthat
happened; they could happen to anybody and werent that bad. Peoplehavetold
methat I overreactedto theskinningof thedogandthat lots of femaleanthro-
pologistsarecalledprostituteandwhore.Tome, that doesnt meanthat my reac-
tionis inappropriate. It means that theconversations about eldwork that should
begoingonover beersor coffeearesimplyreproducingthemythsandnot getting
totheheart of thediscipline. I amnot talkingabout anysort of crisisof represen-
tation or problematic epistemology; I amtalking about what actually happens to
people when they move into new communities and experience violence and
aggressionthat is directedspecically at them, as people, not just as anthropolo-
gists. I wouldhopethat I ammorethanjust thisoneaspect of my identity.
I say this becausetheviolencethat was enacteduponme, throughthevarious
unwelcomedappellations andthroughthebodies of theanimals, was nally also
visited on my physical and emotional body. I had been accosted any number of
140 Violence
times, too many to count, by randommen in the town. On one occasion, I was
takingacommunal taxi tothenearest towntobuy somegroceries. I wastheonly
woman in the old Mercedes among seven men. I was dressed very modestly
although in western clothing. I was wearing my usual traveling outt of along-
sleeved, loose-ttingcottonshirt, askirt that wasalsoquitelooseandreachedthe
ground, akerchief on my head, covering my hair that was pulled up and pinned
awayandsandalsthat evencoveredmytoes. Inmymindit wouldbedifcult tobe
muchmoremodest not that it matteredinthiscase. Not all of themeninthecar
werefromSidi Ifni andit becameclear that theydidnot realizethat I couldspeak
and understand Arabic. Shortly after we left the side of the road where people
waitedtoll carsfor their respectivedestinations, themenstartedlookingaround
at me. I knewthat thetripwouldlast about three-and-a-half hoursandalreadyfelt
claustrophobicbecausedespitethe100-degreeheat, thepracticeinMoroccantaxis
wastoleavethewindowsup.
I was in theback seat with threeother peopleand therewerethreepeopleup
front. I kept myeyeseither downor clearlylookingout thewindowbecauseI had
longsincelearnedthatawomandoesnotmakeeyecontactwithaman. I heardthe
menupfront talkingandstart makingthesoundof suckingair throughtheir front
teeth. I didnot hear what theyweresayinguntil theybeganturningaroundtotalk
withtheother meninthebackseat. Howeasy it wouldbeto simply pull thecar
over wouldnt it? Nobody would know. But maybe she is meeting someone
who would tell thepolice. So, what would that do? Shewould tell nobody.
Shouldwe? Shouldwe?
I sat there, anddidwhatever I couldtoshowlittleor noreactiononmy faceor
inmy body. I swept into apanic. ShouldI speak to theminArabic andtell them
that I understandwhat they aresaying? ShouldI somehowask that they pull over
thecar andrun?WherewouldI run?Therewasnothingaroundexceptfor thehigh
desert andwewerenowherenear any villages. I wasnt sureat rst but thenreal-
izedthat themenoneither sideof mebeganfeelingmy legsandmy back asthey
werepretendingto adjust their seats. I didwhat I couldto shrink my entirebody
andsit forwardtoavoidthisbut felt myself deepeningintoacompletepanic.
I rememberedthat weweregoingtodrivethroughatown, Tiznit, onour wayto
Agadir and usually that was wherecars would stop to look for new passengers.
Becauseour car was already full for Agadir wewerenot supposed to stop but I
leanedforwardtoask thedriver if I couldget out atTiznit becauseI hadforgotten
that mybrother wastheretomeet meandI wouldnot want todisappoint him. I do
not haveabrother andcertainly therewouldbenobody tomeet mebut thelieof
kinshipwas what savedme. A malechaperone, suchas abrother, was enoughto
makethemenreconsider their plans. I felt sick. WhyshouldI havetoresort tothe
lieof amaleprotector tosavemyself fromsomethingthat shouldnever happenin
the rst place? If a male guardian of female sexuality was such as respected
symbol, why werent these men charged with protecting my dignity? I was
disgustedandangry. Sadly, thisanger transferredontomyhusband, or rather onto
hisabsence. If hehadbeenthere, noconversationwouldever havebeeninitiated.
I thought thismany times.
Theonly malewith whomI developed any sort of relationship other than the
simple and standard greeting call and response was my language tutor. I had
arrivedinMoroccowithfour yearsof classical Arabictraining. WhenI arrivedin
Rabat, I realizedthat classical ArabicalongwiththeEgyptiandialect that I spoke,
werenearly unintelligibleinMorocco. Furthermore, whenI movedto Sidi Ifni, I
realized that the Darija, or Moroccan dialect that I had learned in the northern
cities of thecountry, werenot quitethesameas thedialect spoken in thesouth.
WhenI movedtoSidi Ifni therewasanolder Americanwomanlivingintown. Id
havetosay that wehadvery different experiencesof Sidi Ifni, largely becauseof
the differences in our ages. While she did not speak Arabic and was certainly
harassedonoccasion, shewasnot propositionedsexuallyinthesamewaybecause
sheinhabitedanage-gradecategorythatwasnotpubliclyrecognizedassexual. We
rarely encounteredoneanother sinceshespent themajority of her timeworking
withpeopleinthesurroundingBerber villagesbutshedidrecommendatutor with
whomshehadworked. I foundhiminalocal teashopandmadearrangements to
work withhimevery other day. I askedM., afemaleacquaintance, if shethought
thiswouldbeOK. Shedidnot personallylikethemanwhowouldbemytutor but
thought that as long as wemet in very public spaces, everything should bene;
thiswasnottomentionthefactthatthetwomenwhofollowedmeeverydaywould
also beableto communicatethat therewas nothing illicit about our encounters,
thereby actingasmy unwittingchaperones.
WestartedmeetingandworkingonArabic. Hestruck measasomewhat angry
tutor who expected hugeleaps and gains in my prociency but I did my best to
build on what knowledgeI had. Wewould work on reading and speaking for at
least two hours. During this time, we inevitably got to know each other and he
obviously came to know right away that I was married but living on my own.
Becausewekneweachother quitewell, I assumedthat hedidnot think of meas
awhoreor prostitute. Heknewthat I was not. I had even received conrmation
fromthelocal policeoneday that they hadcometo thedecisionthat I was not a
prostitute. They hadaskedenoughpeopleto knowfor sure. I was so relievedby
this odd pronouncement that I thought it was funny to picture the police going
aroundwithapictureof me, askingif anybodythought that I wasgettingpaidfor
sexual services.
My tutor would ask about my husband and we never spoke very personally
aboutsuchmattersbutitwasclear thatI wasawayfromhomefor averylongtime.
Inthewinter season, thesunwouldstart goingdownearlier andmy tutor would
sometimesoffer towalkmebacktomyapartment sothat I wouldnot beaccosted.
This was simply his responsibility hesaid. I sawnoproblemwiththis andwas
infact grateful.
142 Violence
I ndmyself not wantingtowriteabout this. Theemperors newclothes . . . if
weall pretendthat heis wearinghis beautiful robes, thenthereareno problems,
wedonot seehisnakedness.
Therealitythat I donot want toshare, that revealsmyownvulnerability, isthat
my tutor assaultedandmolestedme. Wehadbeenwalkingback tomy apartment
alongthepromenadeabovethewater. Thereweremanypeoplearoundwhomwe
bothgreetedalthoughhespoketoonlythemenandusedthelocal TashelhitBerber
dialect that I did not understand. I noticed that as hespoketo someof themen,
theywouldlookatmeinsuchawayastomakemeuncomfortable. Theoddestpart
of this is that I was so used to being glanced over that I did not think anything
much of it. I could not have been dressed more modestly but I honestly do not
think that it mattered. As weapproachedthelower staircaseof thepromenade,
hequicklydraggedmeoff intoanalleyway. Wehadnostreetlightsandthesebuild-
ings had no electricity so nobody could see what was happening. The deeply
cynical sideof methinksthat evenif somebody hadhappenedby, they wouldnot
havedoneanythingtohelpme. I amastrongwomanandhadtakenafair number
of self-defenseclassesbut thesenever prepareyoufor theshock of themoment. I
knowthis man and heknewme. I found it difcult to believethat any of it was
happening at all. I resisted as much as I could and knowthat my struggles de-
nitely protected me to some extent but not enough. I remember thinking that
calling for help or trying to get thepolicewould beeven moredangerous. Who
knewwhat theywoulddotome?All I wantedwastogohomeandI wantedit with
akindof desperationthat isstill difcult for metoimagine.
My tutor knewthat most peoplealready thought of meas anavailablesexual-
ized being and took advantageof this. That I did not think of myself or present
myself asavailablemeantnothingtohim. Notonlydidheknowwhathewasdoing
tome, I think that inhismind, hewassimplyactingonwhat heimaginedmyown
desires to be. After months of beingsubject to policeinquiry, hostileencounters
on the street and even outside my own doorway, ugly sounds and looks, I had
nally becomesexualized in theway that peoplehad been treating meall along
evenif I didnothaveasayinthematter. I hadlearnedtowalkwithmyheaddown,
to deny my ownsenseof body andspaceinorder to avoidandsubvert thetreat-
ment towhichI wassubjected. Theirony wasthat thiskindof modesty mademe
evenmoreliketheMoroccanwomenwhodidnot leavetheir houseswithout male
chaperonesbecausethey knewwhat it meant tobeawomanaloneandoutsideof
the familys supervision and control. Afterwards, when I felt compelled to talk
with M., she was understanding but also said, well, what did you expect? You
spent timewithaman. What elsewas goingto happen? This, to me, was away
of blamingmeandvindicatinghim. M. waswell awareof howpainful mylifehad
becomebut couldonly support meto acertainpoint. To really get angry andtry
tohelpmewouldbetorecognizethewaysthat sheherself hadbeentreatedall her
life. Sheknew, ultimately, that I couldleaveandthat shecouldnot. Weall know
theblamethevictim model all toowell. That I amyet another oneof manywho
havebecomepart of thisparableisnot surprising. What I most resent isthat when
I returned fromeldwork and began to think through my experiences through
writing, I felt that I couldnot andinfact refusedtopretendthat I hadexperienced
such terribleevents duringmy eldwork; theviolencethat was part of my eld-
work hadtobepart of my dissertation. Todoanythingelsewouldbealie.
I hadalways hadavery convolutedandjargon-ladenacademic writingstyle. I
could string together recursiveand complex ideas likethebest of them. When I
returned, I foundthat my writingwas muchmorenarrativeandpersonal. I could
writenoother way. HowcouldI writeabout what happenedtomeandaroundme
in thetypical obfuscating, opaqueway that has becomeahallmark of thedisci-
pline? Why bother? My dissertation did not go over well. I amstill working on
revisionsandunderstandthatadissertationisnotapersonal diatribe. I donotthink
that it wasandwasactuallyquiteproudof myself for beingabletowriteadisser-
tation on projections of history and spatio-temporal representations of colonial
imaginings. I was supposed to remove myself. But isnt eldwork all about
puttingyourself right there?
This pieceis not cathartic. I do not believeinclosure. My goal inwritingis
to communicate, to think through writing. I haveno conclusion and in fact feel
temptedtociteaformer professorsconclusiontoan800+pagebook, inconclu-
sion, inconclusion. The fact is however, that I have mocked this wordplay for
years. Instead, what comestomindarethewordsof mygreatest mentor, onwards
andupwards. For meupwards hasbeenbecomingahighschool teacher, which
most of my peers ingraduateschool wouldseeas beingdownwards. It isnt. It
took meavery longtimetowriteeventheseshort pages becauseI caresomuch
about them. My mentor would see that what I have written represents my own
versionof onwards.
144 Violence
10
GuidetoFurther Reading
This guideto further readingis intendedto introducestudents to anthropological
literature and theorizing on violence. It is not an exhaustive survey, nor does it
summarize the individual works in detail. Instead it offers interested readers
important axiological pointsfor further inquiry suggestinganarray of theoretical
possibilitiesfor interpretationinjuxtapositiontothenarrower focusonindividual
experiences with violence in the contributions. The guide will begin with some
theoretical works, not presentedpurelychronologicallybut asanintroductioninto
several general theoretical framesof analysis. Althoughthefocusof thevolumeis
on ethnography, we hope to inspire students to read widely across disciplines.
Finally, we offer readings for regional ethnographic studies on violence for a
deeper investigationinto concreteviolent realities. Most works areavailableand
thusreferencedinEnglishtranslation, buttocontextualizetheworkhistoricallywe
givedatesinsquarebracketsof theoriginal dateof publicationintheoriginal lan-
guagewritten.
The empirical phenomena that have prompted scholars to dene and develop
theoriesonthenatureandoriginof violenceareimmensely complex anddiverse.
This fact has ledsomecommentators to doubt theheuristic valueandvalidity of
subsuming diverse empirical phenomena under the rubric of violence. Are
violent phenomenainquestionrelatedinsignicant waysonly inthemindof the
researcher?Wesayno, andincontradistinctiontosuchapositivist view, weclaim
that the conceptual difculties of the notion of violence derive largely fromits
essential nature: violencenever simply appears or disappears as axedthingbut
remains in ux in processes of transformation, such as sublimation, inscription,
substitution, displacement, denial and repression. The German word Gewalt is
helpful here it combines semantically threeessential characteristics of violent
transformation: power, force, andphysical violence, whichinEnglisharerendered
intoseparateconcepts.
Thefact that violenceisextant indiversemediatedformsisaninsight that lies
at thefoundationsof modernphilosophyandsocial scienceandhasleft animprint
insociology, history, andanthropology. ItisimplicitinHobbes stateof natureand
Hegels master-slave dialectic, in Marxs history as class struggle and in
Nietzschesresentment asavital forceof history, aswell asinFreudsspeculation
on the origin of civilization in the guilt of primal murder. It is expressed in
Durkheimsanalysisof thesocial asacoerciveforce, inSimmelsidenticationof
conict asaformof sociation(Vergesellschaftung), andinWebersideal-typedis-
tinction of forms of domination and authority. This list could be extended to
includealmost every major theoretical thinker of our time. Thefollowing guide
concentratesmainly, but not exclusively, onmodernpolitical violence.
First, however, wementionaseriesof useful collectedvolumestowhichweare
deeply indebted, which bring together a wide array of historical, philosophical,
psychoanalytical, andethnographicmaterial: TheAnthropologyofViolence, edited
byDavidRiches(1986); Fieldworkunder Fire: ContemporaryStudiesof Violence
andSurvival, editedbyCarolynNordstromandAntoniusC. G. M. Robben(1995);
Violence, Identity, and Self-Determination, edited by Hent deVries and Samuel
Weber (1997); Meanings of Violence, edited by Gran Aijmer and J on Abbink
(2000); Anthropologyof ViolenceandConict, editedby BettinaE. Schmidt and
Ingo W. Schrder (2001); Violence: Theory and Ethnography, edited by Andrew
Strathern and Pamela J. Stewart (2002); Annihilating Difference: The
Anthropologyof Genocide, editedbyAlexander LabanHinton(2002); Violencein
War and Peace: An Anthology, edited by Nancy Scheper-Hughes and Philippe
Bourgois (2004); Death of the Father: AnAnthropology of the End of Political
Authority, edited by J ohn Borneman (2004); Violence, edited by Neil L.
Whitehead (2004); Terror and Violence: Imagination and the Unimaginable,
edited by Andrew Strathern, Pamela J. Stewart and Neil L. Whitehead (2005).
Thesecollectedworkscover muchof therangeof researchandarethereforeanapt
introductiontotheteachingof violenceinanthropology.
Axiological Readings
Thecatastrophic experienceof theWorldWar Two, as well as thegrowing con-
sciousnessabout thedevastatingeffectsof Europeanimperialism, hasproduceda
lasting and impressive body of scholarly work that tries to map, explain, and
understand human expression of political violence within modernity. It seems
evident that it isinrelationtothesetwoaxial experiences andtheir manyavatars
inwarsof expansion, decolonization, andpartition that all current work onvio-
lencehas tobelocated. A student of theanthropology of violencewouldbewise
tobeginwithHannahArendtsTheOriginsof Totalitarianism(1951), anencyclo-
pedicworkthatbridgestheanalysisof modernanti-Semitism, theformationof the
146 Violence
modern nation state, continental imperialism, racism and their culmination in
totalitarianism.
Shadowing and directly informing the events of the World War Two are the
experiencesof WorldWar One, assignicant asever today, asmanyscholarshave
pointedout. SigmundFreudsThoughtsfor theTimesonWar andDeath(1915) and
Walter Benjamins Critique of Violence (1921) remain important interventions.
Freudexpressedhisownshock whenconfrontedwiththere-emergenceof lustful
expenditures of hateinWorldWar One, but thenconcludedthat violencedenied
and no longer expected is precisely what allowed for such a sudden eruption.
Benjamin, by contrast, thinks through theutopian possibilities of aviolenceof
puremeans, whichmight suspendtheendlesscyclesof violenceonceandfor all.
Written in the immediate aftermath of the fall of the Habsburg and German
monarchies, and during the Russian revolutions more innocent phase,
Benjaminschallengingtextcarriespalpableinuencesof authorssuchasGeorges
Sorel andCarl Schmitt. Despitethesedivergent perspectives, thereisastrangeair
of timelessness inthesetwo alternatives: theutopianvisionof Benjaminandthe
cautionary, reexivenoteby Freud. Both perspectives seemapplicableto events
withwhichwearemorefamiliar today, suchasmassacresinBosniaandRwanda
inthe1990s, or thepost-9/11U.S.-ledWar onTerror.
Theimmenseramications brought about by revolution and war led Freud to
completeakey study of violence, GroupPsychologyandtheAnalysis of theEgo
(1921), inwhichhedealswiththesocio-psychologyof themasses(Freudcalledit
not group but more specically Massenpsychologie) and diagnoses the double
identicationof theindividual: withtheleader of thegroup(or itsideological prin-
ciple) andwiththeother membersof thecollective. For Freudtheseidentications
arefundamentallylibidinal andakintoasort of love: intheabsenceof anypossi-
bilityfor sexual uniontheybecomethesubstituteddeferral of impossiblelibidinal
desire. Freuds insights hark back to his speculations on primal murder of the
father gure in a forgotten stage of human development that he elaborated in
Totemand Taboo (1912/13), which identies the origin of civilization with a
violent act of murder andincorporationaswell astheguilt engenderedthroughit.
Thenegativeandpotentially destructivecharacter of mass actionposes impor-
tant questionsthat werevisitedearlier byanother Austrianscholar, thesociologist
Georg Simmel, whoseshort text TheNegativeCharacter of CollectiveBehavior
(1908) makes for a valuable but remarkably unacknowledged reading on the
modernurbancrowd. Simmel theorizesthat thecumulativenatureof negativityis
abletounify divergent groups, beit by abnegationor by destruction twoforms
of negationat workinsacrice. Simmelsthought containstheseedfor muchlater
work onnationalism, whichplacesnational sacriceandabnegationat thecenter
of an analysis of modern forms of political violence. Georges Batailles The
Psychological Structureof Fascism(1933/34) isanother early andneglectedtext,
writtenduringHitlers riseto power inGermany, andMussolinis political tenure
GuidetoFurther Reading 147
inItaly. Batailleattempts to analyzethecollectiveupsurgeof fascismas arevolt
against thesocial relationsof capitalismandthusaneffect of thepolitical failure
of socialism. Takingoff fromMarxs assertionof Mehrwert (surplus), heargues,
that that part, which was not reintegrated into theproductiveprocess was chan-
neled into symbolic and collective form. Fascist leaders were able to co-opt,
manipulate, andchannel thesecollectiveforces intomilitarism. As political mass
movement, fascismmanifested thereality of theaffectiveand symbolic dimen-
sions of social experience (Brenkman 1979), which the Ann Sociologique
(mainly mileDurkheimandMarcel Mauss) haddiscoveredintheir analyses of
religionandsociety. Inthissuggestive, if somewhat unbalanced, attempt, Bataille
creatively blends the work of early French anthropology with Freudian psycho-
analysis.
Freuds understandingof processes of identicationandoutwardprojectionof
unconscious emotional impulses had tremendous inuence on other subsequent
studies, suchasTheodorW. Adornos(etal.) TheAuthoritarianPersonality(1950),
a socio-psychological etiology of violent characters, and Hannah Arendts
EichmanninJ erusalem: A Report ontheBanalityof Evil (1963b), ananalysis of
thedisturbinglyunexceptional character of perpetratorsof genocide. Theordinary
natureof victimizersandthelargelyvoluntarynatureof their reprehensibleactions
areissuesthat havebeenrevisitedrecentlyinChristopher R. BrowningsOrdinary
Men: ReservePoliceBattalion 101and theFinal Solution in Poland (1992) and
Daniel Goldhagens Hitlers Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the
Holocaust (1997). The latter two disagree mainly about the role of German
culture in theanti-Semitismof Weimar and Nazi Germany and thus in how to
explainthepersonal motivationsof soldierswhocarriedout atrocities.
Arrivingat similar conclusions, J anGrosss Neighbors: TheDestructionof the
J ewish Community in J edwabne, Poland (2001) additionally stresses theaccusa-
tions of ritual murder against PolishJ ews by their Catholic neighbors, mytholog-
ical and folkloric themes prevalent in Europesinceat least theeleventh century.
Their persistenceisconnectedtothesignicanceof AbrahamicsacriceinJ udeo-
Christiantraditions (cf. Poliakov 1974, Dundes 1991, Horowitz 2006), validating
Freuds assertion that violent acts are often fed by a resentment kept latent and
repressed. J acques Semelins PurifyandDestroy: ThePolitical Uses of Massacre
and Genocide(2007) systematizes these approaches and offers a valuable com-
parative perspective looking at the Holocaust, Bosnia Herzegovina, and the
Rwandangenocide.
A themerunningthroughmany contemporary analyses of violenceis thecon-
nectionbetweenmodernpolitical violenceinthecontext of nationalismandele-
ments of custom, culture, and folklore, which are either forgotten and then
rekindled as resentments or consciously exploited in mass actions and festivals.
Another themeistheroleof aestheticsandsymbolic forminrelationtoviolence.
Nazi Germany has remained afertileeld for examining both sets of questions.
148 Violence
Compare for example George Mosses The Nationalization of the Masses:
Political SymbolismandMassMovementsinGermanyfromtheNapoleonicWars
through the Third Reich (1975) and Theodor W. Adornos Theses against
Occultism inhis reections of Minima Moralia: Reections ona DamagedLife
(1950). WritteninexileduringWorldWar II, Adornostext proposesaperceptive
relationbetweenformsof occultismandfascism.
Further examination of the intimacy between religion, sexuality and violence
might begin with Roger Cailloiss Man and the Sacred (1939) and Georges
BataillesEroticism. DeathandSensuality(1957). WhileCailloisreectsontrans-
gression, festival, andwar andtheir relationto sacrality inpre-modernsocieties,
Bataille, buildingontheseinsights, askswhyinritual sacricethat whichhaspre-
viously been consecrated is destroyed. Through the institutionalization of trans-
gression, Batailleargues, manssearchfor alost intimacyisexpressedthroughthe
expenditurein violent destruction theproduction of death. Bataillethus eluci-
dates an important communicativeaspect of violencewith general utility for all
violent contexts. Ren Girards Violence and the Sacred (1977) building on Sir
J ames Frazer (1890), Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss (1899), Sigmund Freud
(1912/13), andGeorgesBataille(1957, 1967, 1973), focusesonascapegoatmech-
anismthat liesat thefoundationof cultureandsociety. GiorgioAgambeninHomo
Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life (1995) critiques Batailles and Caillois
notion of the sacred and, by revisiting Carl Schmitt, Michel Foucault, Walter
Benjamin, and HannahArendt, formulates a critic of the legal and institutional
forceof thejuridical-politicodomainof modernstatepower.
On the question of nationalism, perhaps the most inuential work has been
Benedict Andersons Imagined Communities: Reections on the Origins and
Spread of Nationalism(1983). Identifying in nationalisman eminently cultural
element, Anderson suggests analyzing images that communities adhere to like
anthropologist dokinshipandreligion. Heposesthequestionontheoutset of how
modern forms of identication can foment a loyalty that is willing to embrace
death and war in national sacrice. This theme of national sacrice is further
explored in Sacrice and National Belonging in Twentieth-Century Germany,
editedby GregEghigianandMatthewPaul Berg(2002), andBloodSacricefor
the Nation: TotemRituals and the American Flag (1999), edited by Carolyn
MarvinandFranciscoW. Ingle, two political scientists who apply Durkheimrig-
orously tocontemporaryAmericanpolitical form.
The cataclysmic events of the two world wars, culminating in the Holocaust,
foundperhapstheir most profoundexaminationinMax Horkheimer andTheodor
W. AdornosDialecticof Enlightenment: Fragmentsof Philosophy(1944), awork
that attests theobvious returnto savagery inthemost advancedcivilizations, the
subversionof enlightenment ideals inthecontext of modernmass culture, totali-
tarianismandcapitalism. Thebook is inadeepdialoguewiththeGermanphilo-
sophical traditionof GeorgFriedrichHegel, Karl Marx andSigmundFreud.
Muchas WorldWar OneprecededWorldWar Two, theviolent experiences of
colonizationprecededthoseof colonialism. ThisnarrativedrivesJ osephConrads
Heart of Darkness (1902), ameticulous descriptionof therealities of therubber
boomin the Congo, and Frantz Fanons TheWretched of the Earth (1963), in
whichFanoncallsfor actsof emancipation, includingviolenceagainstinternalized
forms of authority, which havebecomenested in thecolonial subjects senseof
self. J eanPaul Sartrewroteaprefaceto Fanons famous book andtook upthese
questionsinhissubsequentwork. Michael TaussigsShamanism, Colonialism, and
theWildMan: AStudyof Terror andHealing(1987) picksupethnographicallyon
Fanon, Benjamin, Bataille, andHorkheimer/Adorno, stressingthestrangemimesis
between thesavagery attributed to thecolonial subjects and thesavagery of the
colonists.
In contradistinction to Sartre, Fanon, and Benjamin, HannahArendt criticizes
theutopianusagesof violent meansinOnViolence(1970), abook writtenduring
the1960sstudentunrest, amidstnewleftidenticationwithanti-imperialistmove-
mentsintheThirdWorld. Shedenesviolencenot asaway toassumeor resist
power but asasignof utter Ohnmacht (powerlessness aGermanworddenoting
loss of control and of consciousness, a fainting with the sense of castration).
HansMagnusEnzensbergersmorerecent meditationsinCivil Wars: FromL. A. to
Bosnia(1990) carriesthisfurther, takingissuewithattemptstorender rational and
comprehensiblewhat heidentiesasutterly self-destructiveandautistic formsof
contemporary violence. Thedistinction that Arendt draws between violenceand
power, distinguishingoneformof Gewalt fromanother, is avital one, especially
for thecurrent discussion of violencein theU.S. It also indirectly addresses the
questionof legitimacyof political formandlegal structure, whichArendt explores
inOnRevolution(1963a), wheresheusestheAmericanandFrenchrevolutionsto
study theprinciplesthat underlieall revolutions.
A series of works intheFrenchstructuralist andpoststructuralist traditionpar-
allel the German tradition above. Similar to Horkheimer/Adornos dialectic of
enlightenment, which remains fundamentally suspicious of the achievements of
modernity, Michel FoucaultsHistoryof Sexuality: AnIntroduction(1976) identi-
esinthemodernsubject aninternalizationof statepower throughadministrative
technologies and new forms of knowledge. This process is characterized by a
strangesimultaneity of increasedconcernfor lifeaccompaniedby invasiveforms
of state violence. In Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (1975)
Foucault reverses the progressionist logic of an enlightenment narrative, which
understandsthedevelopment of themodernstateasanimprovement over thearbi-
trariness of the sovereigns power, a theme that is later picked up by Agamben
(1995).
In contemporary forms of state knowledge/power, he claims, the state has
gainedamorecomprehensivepower over governedsubject populations. Violence,
then, is power over life(bio-power) andgouvernementalit(aplay ontheFrench
150 Violence
words for government and mentality). Foucaults approach, inuential in
analysesof post-colonial societies, insiststhatthecolonial andpost-colonial states
technologies of administrationof largesubject populations creatednewforms of
identity, concepts of personhood and divinity, religion and secularity, belonging
andterritory, all formsof knowledgewithdevastatingeffectsinmanypartsof the
post-colonial world.
PierreBourdieus Outlineof aTheoryof Practice(1972) develops theinuen-
tial concept of symbolic violence, aviolencethat has been euphemized and dis-
guised, renderedinternal andcorporeal inmental andbodilydispositions. Through
doxa, thepractices structuring thesocial world areconcealed, taken-for granted,
hiding the conditions of their emergence along with the conditions that might
enabletheir proper perception. Thisleadsindividualstomisconceiveof their own
actionsandhencetheir positionswithinthesocial worldstheyinhabit ultimately
amisrecognitionanchoredintheindividuals senseof self. What has beenren-
deredinvisible, however, isexternalizedandthusultimatelygenerative, active, and
reproduced in daily praxis for example through a bodily hexis applied to the
world. Attentivetomental andbodily dispositions, Bourdieusapproachskillfully
amalgamates insights fromWebers sociology of Verstehen, Durkheims coercive
natureof classicatory systems, Marxs analysis of society as class struggle, and
Merleau-Pontysphenomenology of thecorporeal.
Bourdieus insights have inuenced many subsequent sociological studies on
violenceandthebody, suchas LocWacquants BodyandSoul: Notebooks of an
ApprenticeBoxer (2004), whichelucidatesthelinksbetweentheinstitutionof the
Americaninner-city ghettoasanethnoracial prison andthemtier of boxing, a
kineticsport inwhichparticipationcomesat thepriceof physical self-destruction.
Unlike Foucault, Bourdieus approach is supposed to be emancipatory in
handing back to thesocial actors thereal sense of their actions by elucidating
thegenesisof social visionsanddivisionsaswell asthecategoriesthat makethem
less apparent. Both approaches, by Foucault and Bourdieu, share with ethno-
graphic work that they attempt tounderstandtheway inwhichpeopleparticipate
in their own subjugation through the way they think and act in the world.
Simultaneously, both thinkers keep a conscious distance frompsychoanalysis
Foucault bydismissingit outright andBourdieubyreplacingit withwhat hecalls
asocio-analysis, apsycho-analysisof thesocial.
Less averse to psychoanalysis, the philosopher J acques Derrida enters into a
moredifcult terraininrelationtoviolence. InOf Grammatology(1967), Derrida
addresses, bywayof acritiqueof logocentrism, theviolenceof thesignitself and
itsinscriptioninlanguage. Helookstolanguageitself (inwriting/reading) for the
traceof anoriginary violence, anddraws attentionto theerasureof this originat
themoment of its inscription. Inuenced by a widearray of thinkers, including
Spinoza, Hegel, Husserl, Freud, Heidegger, andBataille, Derridas critic of logo-
centrismis at the same time a critique of metaphysics. Derrida simultaneously
acknowledgesandresiststheviolent heritageof ideasandsubvertstheconcernof
prior thinkers with purity, interiority, origins, chronology, exteriority, and
authority. AsEtienneBalibar (1993) haspointedout, thisapproachmakesDerrida
less prone to a certain type of navet vis--vis contemporary claims to non-
violence. InTheGift of Death(1992), DerridameditatesontheAbrahamic sacri-
ce that underlies both J udeo-Christian and Islamic traditions through a close
reading of Kierkegaard. In Force of Law(1992), he works through Benjamins
CritiqueofViolenceonthemystical foundationsof authority, andseemstoconcur
withsomeof Arendtsconcerns.
EthnographicallyInformedWorkonViolence
Informedbythetextsandauthorsmentionedabove, contemporaryanthropological
projects have focused increasingly on violence, not conceived as a freak occur-
renceinterruptingcultural andsocial processesbutrather asconstitutiveof society
and everyday life, expressing either change or continuity in oppressive political
and social forms. More recent studies on violence deal with cosmology, ritual,
folklore, symbolicform, language, identity, andbelief inrelationtoeconomy, and
nationalism. They provide signicant new perspectives on the phenomena in a
varietyof ethnographicsettings, andareparticularlyimportant incombininggen-
uinelyanthropological insightswiththeneedtounderstandthecomplexdynamics
of particular places.
Inuencedbytheworkof Derrida, Michael MeekersLiteratureandViolencein
NorthArabia (1977) relates poetry andvoiceto inter-tribal warfareandpolitical
violence. Abdellah Hammoudis TheVictimand its Mask: An Essay on Sacrice
andMasqueradeintheMaghreb(1988) showsthesubversionof Moroccansacri-
ce fromwithin itself through the bacchanalian excess of masquerade, a theme
that revisits Victor Turners work on ritual (1969). Also inuenced by Turner,
Maurice Blochs Prey into Hunter: The Politics of Religious Experience (1992)
reveals howviolenceis built into theway societies deal withdeath, andwiththe
ritual technologies employedto access immortality, whichheterms rebounding
violence. Through an oscillation between the experience of vital life and tran-
scendenceof life, theexistential dramabetweentransformationandpermanenceis
playedout inanattempt toritually control violence.
Allen Feldmans Formations of Violence: The Narrative of the Body and
Political Terror in Northern Ireland (1991) and LiisaMalkkis Purity and Exile:
Violence, Memory, and National Cosmology among Hutu Refugees inTanzania
(1995) areethnographies that seek to understand violenceas amodern political
phenomenashapedbycultural andeconomicdynamics(cf. Krohn-Hansen1997).
While Malkki worked with Hutu refuges in Tanzania and the construction of
memory and cosmology, Feldman analyzes therelation of stateand paramilitary
152 Violence
violenceinurbanBelfasttospaceandbodysymbolism; bothexplainhowviolence
becomescorporeal. Inasimilar vein, Christopher TaylorsSacriceasTerror: The
RwandanGenocideof 1994(1999), elucidateshowthesymbolicformof violence
actedout inthepresent areinuencedby traditional rites of sacredkingshipand
medicinetransgured and transposed in modern genocidal violence. Fernando
Coronil and J ulieSkurskis Dismembering and Remembering theNation (1991)
complicates the relationship posed between violence, myth, and political form
postulatedbytypological approachesthat posit correspondencesbetweentypesof
societiesandformsof violence.
Emulating Malkkis work on theindeterminacy of distinctions between Hutus
andTutsis, andFeldmans Foucaultiananalysis of howthebody becomes thesite
of sacricial violenceduring interrogations, ArjunAppadurai (1998) argues that
many violent actsproceedasif they attemptedtocreateakindof certainty of the
identity of thevictimthroughvivisection, aviolent inspectionthat strivestocon-
cretizeandclarifythroughperversesurgical procedures. Inother words, inmodern
ethnocidal violence, what globalization has rendered increasingly unstable and
precarious is sought in somatic stabilizationan interestingandsuggestivecon-
tribution to the study of contemporary violence. Mahmood Mamdanis When
Victim become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and the Genocide in Rwanda
(2001) linksananalysisof theRwandangenocidewiththeracializationof ethnic
differenceunder colonialismandthedevastatingconsequencesfor ethnicrelations
between Hutus and Tutsis, whereas J ohan Pottier in his Re-Imagining Rwanda:
Conict, Survival andDisinformationintheLateTwentiethCentury(2002) critics
thesystematicerasureinmediaanalysesof theclassaspect of theconict aswell
asthepost-genocidal leadersacquiescencetothisfact. Thispointsisalsomadeby
Catharine and David Newburys work on the genocide in Rwanda (1999).
InuencedbyBataille, Benjamin, andTaussig, AlanKlimasTheFuneral Casino:
Meditation, Massacre, andExchangewiththeDeadinThailand(2002) interprets
mass-mediated violence through funeral gambling and Buddhist meditation on
death.
Inuenced by Bourdieu, Philippe Bourgoiss In Search of Respect: Selling
CrackinEl Barrio(2002) documentsthebrutal street cultureandcrack economy
of East Harlem, indicating theways in which scarcesymbolic resources such as
respect are part of a larger economy of violence. The author unravels ethno-
graphicallyhowinthecontext of povertyandracism, violenceandself-violence
abusethroughaddictionor penal institutionalizationfor assault arefundamen-
tally linked. Thehumiliationanddesperationthat causes drugabusecanonly be
managedby turningself-destructioninto thedestructionof others, aprocess that
issystematicallyencouragedandsustainedbyaneglectful stateanditsideological
scaffolding. Whiletheself-destructionof thepoor isultimatelyuseful for thestate,
theprojectionof violent effectivenessisessential for stayingontopof thingsinEl
Barrio.
Gananath Obeyesekeres The Work of Culture: Symbolic Transformation in
Psychoanalysis andAnthropology(1990) takes upFreuds foundational themeof
how primal murder (parricide and licide) relates to patriarchal values in
Hinduism and Buddhism respectively. Abdellah Hammoudis Master and
Disciple: The Cultural Foundations of Moroccan Authoritarianism (1997)
explores therelationof authority to political formandIslamandinLords of the
Lebanese Marches: Violence and Narrative in Arab Society (1996), Micheal
Gilsenanshows thesubversionof violenceandideal masculinity throughtheuse
of irony.
J ames T. Siegels A NewCriminal Typein J akarta: Counter-RevolutionToday
(1998) investigatestheemergenceof newimaginativeforcessuchascriminality
andghosts inmass mediaandrumors duringSuhartos NewOrder inIndonesia.
InNamingtheWitch(2006), Siegel continuesthisproject by analyzingtheperse-
cution and murder of citizens accused of being witches and he interprets these
accusations as attempts to control new emergent social forces that cannot be
named, for whichthereisnorecourseinculture. Becomingmarkedbythat which
hasnoname, theybecomethecarriersof all that hastobedestroyed. Thiswork is
signicant inthat it departs fromtheanalysis of violenceas symbolic or cultural
formandproposes, rather, that violenceeruptswhenculturefails, namelythrough
thebreakdown of signication, theinability to locatedeath and thus control the
anxious address of death. If theidenticationof awitchcauses fear, it also sug-
gests theexistenceof afabulous power that murder is supposedto control, while
theact of killingisnever really abletoput it torest.
Marguerite Guzman Bouvards Revolutionizing Motherhood: The Mothers of
thePlazadeMayo(1994) describesthebravestruggleof Mothersfor information
about the whereabouts of their disappeared sons and husbands, who were
abducted, torturedandkilledby paramilitariesof thejuntaregimeinArgentinain
the 1970s. Daniel Goldsteins Spectacular City Violence and Performance in
Urban Bolivia (2004) investigates vigilante lynching and street festivals as the
effectsof democratization, whichengender newformsof violenceamongindige-
nous migrants inCochabamba, Bolivia. Alexander LabanHintons WhyDidthey
Kill? Cambodia in theShadowof Genocide(2005) focuses on howemotionally
resonant formsof cultural knowledgeareemployedinthecontext of thedevasta-
tion under theKhmer Rougein Cambodia. J ohn Bornemans SettlingAccounts:
Violence, J ustice, andAccountabilityinPostsocialist Europe(1997) exploreslegal
attemptstoaddressviolencefollowingtheendof theColdWar. FollowingHannah
Arendt inOrigins (seeabove), Bornemanopposes forms of forgiveness that sub-
stitute for establishing systems of accountability. The sociologist Orlando
Patterson(1998) analyzes thesymbolic economy of Americanlynchingafter the
Reconstructionperiodwherethesacricial killingof theNegro wasassimilated
byperpetratorsandparticipantsaliketothecrucixionof Christ, whileinhismore
recent work on the South Africa, Feldman (2002) shows how torture under
154 Violence
apartheidwas consummatedas performanceof culinary images andpractices of
foodconsumption.
A series of works onethnic andreligious violenceinSouthAsiadeservepar-
ticular attention as they try to combine insights of postcolonial studies and the
analysis of ritual and religion in the context of nationalism. Bruce Kapferers
Legends of People, Myths of State (1988) juxtaposes Australian nationalismto
Sinhalese nationalism and the role of ontology, hierarchy, and ritual. Stanley
Tambiahs Buddhism Betrayed? Religion, Politics and Violence in Sri Lanka
(1992) interrogatesBuddhisminthecontext of politicallymotivatedviolence, and
hisLevelingCrowds: Ethnonationalist ConictsandCollectiveViolenceinSouth
Asia (1996) explores theroleof masses and crowd behavior in violence; Sudhir
Kakars TheColors of Violence(1995) elaborates onunconscious aspects of vio-
lencesuchasmimetic identicationsbetweenHindusandMuslimsinIndia.
In the volume Violence/Non-Violence: Some Hindu Perspectives, edited by
Denis Vidal, Gilles Tarabout and Eric Meyer (1994), thereader is introduced to
diverseaspects of traditional andcontemporary ahimsa (non-violence), inclusive
of howthis culturally salient concept relates to war, conict, or stigmatizationof
minorities. Other important works include Valentine E. Daniels Charred
Lullabies: Chapters inanAnthropographyof Violence(1996) dealingwithTamil
workers inSri Lankas highlands inthecontext thenationalist violence; Urvashi
Butalias TheOther Sideof Silence: Voices fromthePartitionof India (2000), an
attempt to reckon with the partition of India and Pakistan and Thomas Blom-
HansensWagesofViolence: NamingandIdentityinPostcolonial Bombay(2001),
ananalysisof theShiv SenaandHindunationalisminBombay.
Recently Veena Dass Life and Words: Violence and the Descent into the
Ordinary (2007) as well as Roma Chatterji and Deepak Mehtas Living with
Violence: An Anthropology of Events and Everyday Life (2007) both employ
detailed ethnographic material in order to investigate how violence works itself
intoquotidianlife, shatteringasocial worldandasenseof self, whilebythat very
fact alsoopeningaspacefor reworkingthelimitsof thesocial (cf. Martin2007).
J onathanSpencersAnthropology, Politics, andtheState: DemocracyandViolence
inSouthAsia(2007) focusesamongother thingsontheagonisticenergiesreleased
insuchphenomenaaselections, andposesprogrammaticallyananthropologyof
thecounter-political. This strategy tries not to deny, but to defusetheeffects of
thepolitical. Finally, ArjunAppadurais Fear of Small Numbers: AnEssayonthe
Geographyof Anger (2006) tacklesthequestionof whytheageof globalization
withitsliberal ideas, nancial ows, expansionof humanrights simultaneously
remainssoarrestedinmassviolence.
It is disturbing to realize, howmuch theselater questions suggestively mirror
theonesposedbyanolder generationof authorsmentionedatthebeginningof this
Guideto Further Reading. Wehavehighlightedsomekey texts selectively: theo-
retical approaches and key ethnographic works on modern political violence.
However, astheauthorsof thisvolumehaveshown, evenif wefocusonlyonpolit-
ical violence, it cantakepeculiar forms indifferent places andat different times,
always in excess of analytical possibilities. Theexperienceof and theencounter
with violence, in their individual or collectiveapprehensions, arenever equal to
analyses. Yet, whileontheonehandthemovement fromexperiencetoconceptual
language(Begriff notion) must beacautiousone, it ontheother handcannever
beelidedif our goal remainsoneof understanding(begreifen).
156 Violence
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Ahimsa, 10, 35, 43
Ahmedabad, 10, 3549
Argentina, 10717
belonging, 108, 112, 116
Berber, 137, 142, 143
body, 1, 5, 9, 15, 29, 334, 367, 39,
44, 46, 53, 94, 1401
bombing, 12, 10711, 113, 11517,
119, 131, 132
boundaries, 57, 110, 11517
Brazil, 7996
citizen, 53, 108, 110, 11516, 132
citizenship, 67, 116, 123, 138
civil war, 12, 55, 119, 120, 125, 127,
132
communication, 6, 9, 36
Darija, 135, 138, 142
debt, 5
descriptiveexposition, 1, 4, 5, 6
detention, 11, 12, 79, 80, 83, 85, 95,
121, 122, 124
dream, 5, 9, 12, 33, 46, 11922,
12730, 133
ethnographic desire, 4
ethnographic encounter
theory of, 113
ethnographic intelligence, 2
experience
intersubjective, 2
violent, 4, 57, 9, 150
explanation, 2, 7
fantasy, 8, 46, 867
fear, 9, 10, 12, 323, 36, 412, 46,
5169, 71, 756, 83, 85, 87, 90, 93,
11516, 128, 136
Franco, Francisco, 136
Godhraincident, 356, 43, 45
guerilla, 52, 61
Gujarat, 10, 3549
Hezbollah, 12, 119, 1213, 1256,
132
anger, 39, 41, 47, 103
Hindu, 10, 45
Hindutva, 10
humiliation, 5, 8
Hussein, Saddam, 10, 51, 52, 53
India, 3549
intimacy, 66, 130, 131
betweencommunities, 36
withdifference, 1
Iraq, 5169
J ewish, 10717
Kenya, 10, 718
Kurdistan, 10, 5169
LatinAmerica, 107, 108
Lebanon, 11933
Index
memory, 1, 7, 12, 28, 65, 97, 1078,
111, 113, 116, 119, 127
Mexico, 97106
Morocco, 13544
Mukhabarat, 10, 578, 635
muxe, 11, 97106
nonviolence, 10, 35, 43
objectification, 4, 5
Peru, 1534
poesis, 6
pogrom, 10, 3549
punishment, 9, 11933
rape, 9, 11, 19, 28, 33, 36, 436,
914
reciprocity, 6, 11, 101, 103, 105
residue, 5, 6, 7
reparation, 11933
riots, 35
sacrifice, 10
Samburu, 1011, 718
secret police, 10, 24, 57, 58
security, 7, 9, 12, 24, 28, 52, 557, 59,
64, 65, 801, 85, 87, 934, 1012,
11017, 1234, 1312
sensitivearea, 356, 45
September 11, 108, 135, 138
ShiningPath, 9, 1718, 22, 257, 302
Sidi Ifni, 13, 13539, 1412
social distance, 634, 66,
sovereignty, 10, 36, 53
suretnationale, 137, 138
symptom, 5, 9
Syria, 12, 54, 67, 121, 125, 1279
terrorism, 25, 27, 28, 36, 108
transgendered, 11, 97106
transference, 8, 9, 12
UnitedNations, 623, 645, 124, 133
Verstehen, 2, 3
164 Index

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