Methods and Politics

Author(s): Matti Bunzl

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Source: American Ethnologist, Vol. 32, No. 4 (Nov., 2005), pp. 533-537
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 MATTIBUNZL
Universityof Iltinois at Urbana-Champaign

Meffiods and politics

am deeply grateful for the opportunity for this discussion, and

REJ OI N D ER
II thank my colleagues for their generous engagement with my
work. This is no mere courtesy. For me, my article was an experi-
ment in the kind of anthropology I would like to see gain more
ground in our discipline. LikeAndre Gingrich,I am often frustrated
by the lack of serious intellectual debate in the field. To me, this is centrally
a function of a certain insecurity, a nervousness to venture beyond our in-
dividual ethnographic expertise. In our writings, we are quick to theorize,
of course, but we rarely attempt arguments that push the boundaries of
our comfort zones.
My own long-term research is in the anthropology of the German-
speaking world (Austria, in particular) and modern Jewish history and
culture. This is reflected in my article, of course. But to approach its topic,
one that is absolutely crucial to Europe's future, I had to tread on less
familiarground. I travel extensively, and I read as much as I can. But other
anthropologistswill alwaysknow more (and more immediate things) about,
say, the struggles of Algerians in France, immigration debates in Scandi-
navia, or the everyday experience of Turkey'ssecular tradition. My article,
in other words, has gaps, and necessarily so. But I do not want them to keep
me or other anthropologists from pursuing the big questions of the day.
Correspondingly,I am under no illusion that my text covers all relevant
ground. Such a proposition, which underlies so much of contemporary
anthropology, is bound to falter under the weight of its unexamined
positivism. Instead, I see my contribution not as a closed investigation
(the kind that tries to cover all of the bases to ward off critique) but as an
invitation to other researchersto contemplate Europe's past, present, and
future in light of a particularanalytic perspective and to fill in the article's
gaps in the process.
That seven distinguished colleagues took up this invitation thrills me
no end. They have contributed greatly to the project, enlarging the ethno-
graphic archive and conceptual framework of the original analysis. This
does not mean that the commentators always agree with me. Far from it.

AMERICANETHNOLOGIST,Vol. 32, No. 4, pp. 533-537, ISSN 0094-0496, electronic

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American Ethnologist * Volume32 Number4 November2005
But I would accept many of the issues they raise as vital
additions to the interpretation. These include Dominic
Boyer's description of the argument as "Arendtian"as
well as his emphasis on the "politics of the future";Karen
Brodkin'sidentification of the similarities between Euro-
pean and Jewish American trajectoriesin the second half
of the 20th century as well as her insistence that capital-
ism still matters;John Bowen's focus on the complexities
of the French situation as well as his intimation that, when
it comes to anti-Zionism, "the issue is really no longer
Israel's right to exist but the right to criticize Israel";
Jonathan Boyarin's invocation of alternative traditions of
Jewish-Muslim interaction as well as his careful reference
to "stereotyped hostility toward Jews available in Islamic
..
and Arab culture"; Esra Ozyurek's reminder of Turkey's
strict secularism as well as its French genealogy; and
Gingrich'sremarks on the U.S. role in Turkey'squest for
admission into the European Union as well as his qualifi-
cation of my characterization of Israel's place in the
Middle East as, first and foremost, a Europeancolony (first
yes, foremost no longer). Even Nina Glick Schiller, by far
the most strident critic, makes a number of points I readily
agree with, not least the need for experts on particular
national developments to grasp the currentsituation in all
its complexity.
I would quibble with other criticisms. But the differ-
ences are often minor, a question of emphasis and degree
rather than facticity and kind. So, rather than generate
another list (one that would be considerablymore detailed
than the preceding one, replete with disagreements on
the minutiae of Zionist periodicity and Austrianpolitics),
I turn to two major methodological issues raised by my
reading of the commentaries. Those involve the problem
of terminology, on the one hand, and the issue of conti-
nuity versus discontinuity, on the other hand. I close my
response with some political reflections.
Severalof the commentators raise concerns about my
key terms anti-Semitism and Islamophobia. Both Bowen
and Boyarin take issue with the former. Bowen points to
the diversity of (French) positions subsumed under the
label, whereas Boyarin notes that the term "becomes un-
bearably oxymoronic when used as a label for a phenom-
enon found ... primarily among Muslims." Bowen also
points to the problematic nonneutrality of Islamophobia.
..
But it is Ozyurekwho goes to the greatest length to protest
and challenge the term. Her objection turns on a critique
of a "humanist Left" that invented the concept to safe-
guarda secular public sphere designed to both protect and
police religious minorities. Against the backdrop of an
implicitly ChristianizedEuropean space, this project ren-
ders Islam a mere object of tolerance, at best, a target
for enforced assimilation, at worst. Because Ozyurekenvi-
sions, following Etienne Balibar,a "democratic European
Union, in which Europeans of diverse backgroundsrecog-
534
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nize everyone's right to exist as equal members," she
protests this kind of liberalism. In fact, it is "the discourse
of tolerance" itself that "perpetuates the belief that Islam
is completely exterior and eternally foreign to Europe."
Rather than fight "Islamophobia" in the interest of inte-
gration, she, thus, advocates that "hegemonic Christian
and secular groups recognize the already integral nature
of Islam." To do so, she proposes anti-Muslimism as a
"better term to use than Islamophobia" but recognizes
immediately that this term, too, is "problematic in that
it is not totally devoid of culturalism and, therefore, like
Islamophobia, promotes an impulse toward Othering."
I understand, and to some degree even sympathize
with, Ozyurek'sintellectualand politicalimpulse. The prob-
lematization of hegemonic terms and categories can be a
vital endeavor. Critical genealogies are illuminating, and
they often feel like genuine interventions. But I am wor-
ried that, in our discipline, we spend far too much time
deconstructing the key terms of social debate and far too
little time analyzing how they function in the real world.
The issue is not that anti-Semitism and Islamophobia are
self-evident terms, which would certainly suggest, even
necessitate, critical scrutiny of their semantic and political
fields. But I am concerned that, too often, such endeavors
result in the kind of impasse Ozyurekarrivesat: proposing
a possible alternativewhose own compromised nature is
alreadyapparent.Any category,after all, bears the traces of
power/knowledge and can be subjected to genealogical
scrutiny. Defenders of the practice would no doubt point
to the important political work such interventions per-
form. But I have come to doubt the supposed efficacy. As
John Borneman remarkedin the first AE Forum, 20 years
into the projectof criticaldeconstruction and "our subjects
continue to behave as if we had not even done these
exercises" (2003:506).Even if we were to substitute anti-
Muslimism for Islamophobia, the European debate would
continue to revolve around the latter term, and, more
importantly, the continent's Muslim communities would
still be the object of systematic discrimination.
With all that in mind, I tend to avoid the deconstruc-
tive impulse. In its place, I let myself be guided by a rather
conventional, even traditional, anthropological approach,
namely, to privilege the native point of view (or, as Ging-
rich even more traditionally calls it, the "emic perspec-
tive"). That approach, too, has been deconstructed by
some. But I still find it a useful starting point for almost
any analysis. Anti-Semitism and Islamophobia simply are
the terms of the European debate, and, although there
is no agreement on their meanings (especially in regard
to the former), I ultimately see my project as providing
clarification precisely because it tracks their actual de-
ployment.l Perhaps such a project is less political, but I
certainly imagine it to be closer to some kind of empirical
reality (another compromised term).

The question of continuity-discontinuity is another
theme that runs through the commentaries. Once again,
this involves the key terms of my analysis as well as the
issues of religion and race. Both Gingrichand Bowen, for
example, contend that EuropeanIslamophobia has a long
history and should not be dated to the turn of this mil-
lennium. A similar argument can be made in regard to
anti-Semitism, whose origins I locate in the late l9th
century. Before I go on, I should clarifythat my argument
is not that these phenomena lack precedent. But, then
again, nothing does. Cultural realities always have ante-
cedents, and among the tasks of the historically minded
anthropologist, at least as I see it, is to discern the mean-
ingful ruptures in the flow of history. To see continuity in
everythingis to see nothing.
This is not to reject Gingrich's and Bowen's specific
points out of hand. They are absolutely right in noting the
lacunae in my discussion of the history of Islam in Europe.
But this does not change the basic premise of an analysis
that is once again guided by the commitment to an emic
perspective. The emergence, widespread circulation, and
centrality for political debate of the terms anti-Semitism
and Islamophobiaultimately suggest the historical period-
ization. The move from Judenhass (Jew hatred) to anti-
Semitism marks a crucial turning point of the late l9th
century. It was understood both by contemporaries and
later observers as marking a momentous transforma-
tion, characterized by the rise of an organized political
movement as well as a shift in alterity from religion to
race. Conversely, the appearance of Islamophobia as a
key term in European discourse dates to the present era.
And, although it continues older forms of antagonism
and exclusion, it connotes an altogether new level of con-
cern for the presence of Islam in Europe, linked, as it is,
to unprecedented migratory movements. To grasp this
present moment, much like the specificities of the past,
attention to such discontinuities is essential. Only such
analytic distinctions can render the flow of history into
meaningful units.
The same methodological principle organizes my
thoughts on religion.In my view, anti-Semitism and Islam-
ophobia are primarily secular phenomena, their echoing
of traditional religious antagonisms notwithstanding.
Boyarinand Ozyurekdisagree, identifyingEurope'sendur-
ing Christianityas a key for understanding the issues at
hand. GlickSchillergoes even fartherin her critique, iden-
tifying a "currentmovement to revive a Christianidentity
in Europe" as evidence for the continued relevance of
religion (which she sees as always already interarticulated
with global capitalism, an essentialized nationalism, and a
racializedlogic of blood and belonging).
The basic argumentregardingChristiancontinuities is
powerful.Afterall, the CatholicChurch,in particular,has a
stunningly long history of hostility and aggression against
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Methodsand poLitics* American Ethnologist
Jews and Muslims. And some of the current antagonisms
are, in fact, filtered through a specifically Christian lens.
But the dominant discourse is decidedly secular, always
privileging cultural over religious concerns. This should
not be surprising, given Europe's radical turn away from
religion. In my article, I alreadynoted that the continent's
post-Enlightenment trajectory has been shaped over-
whelmingly by secular forces. These had an enormous
effect, and the Europe of today must strike observers as
radically discontinuous when compared with its religious
past. A more psychoanalytic approach might certainly
uncover deep-rooted continuities. But from my essentially
Foucauldian perspective, the shifts on the political and
cultural surface are what impress me the most.
The statistics speak a clear language. Recent studies
reveal that, whereas in Aberdeen, Scotland, 60 percent of
the adult population attended church in 1851, the number
was down to 11 percent in 1995; the percentage of the
population in the United Kingdom that had attended
Sunday school went from 55 percent in 1900 to 4 percent
in 2000; Dutch membership in churches declined from
98 percent in 1899 to 40 percent in 2001; whereas 43 per-
cent of British subjects believed in the existence of a per-
sonal God in 1940, only 26 percent did in 2000; and, in
1967,42 percent of West Germansheld that Jesus was the
son of God, but in 1992, the number was only 29 (among
East Germans, it was 17). Surveys in the late 1990s found
the following levels of at least monthly church attendance:
34 percent for (formerlyWest) Germany, 31 percent for
Belgium, 24 percent for Great Britain, 17 percent for
France, 11 percent for Finland,9 percent for Iceland, 9 per-
cent for Norway, 7 percent for Sweden, and 6 percent for
Denmark (Zuckerman2004).2Even with appropriateskep-
ticism regarding the limitations of quantitative research,
these numbers signal a decisive, long-lasting, and ongoing
trend toward secularization, a contention also supported
by the rapid decline in formal church membership and, in
terms of recent events, the overwhelming indifference (a
few thousand pilgrims notwithstanding) that greeted the
new pope in Europe.
This is not to say that Glick Schiller's ethnographic
research among Christianfundamentalists in Germany is
insignificant. On the contrary,it provides a fascinating ex-
ample for what could be construed as an attempted
"Americanization"of European religion. But for now, at
least, the phenomenon remains utterly marginal, much
like the many other new religious movements that dot the
continent. As anthropologists, we have every reason to
study communities outside the mainstream. But we have
to guard against confusing the developments we witness
firsthand with larger social transformations. Sometimes
they are, but sometimes they are not. In the end, good an-
thropological work rests on the persuasive contextualiza-
tion of ethnographic evidence.
535
American Ethnologist * VoLume32 Number4 November2005
This brings me to a last domain in this discussion of
the continuity-discontinuity problem, the issue of race.
Glick Schiller forcefully argues that at the heart of anti-
Semitism and Islamophobia is the persistence and revival
of ideas of essentialized racial difference. Here, she and I
have a strong difference of opinion. I could rehearse, as I
did with religion, the many statistics that suggest the de-
cline of traditionalracist attitudes across Europe. I could
also take issue with the obvious misinterpretation that
European support for Israel (which is, in fact, a state le-
gitimating itself through the "ideological links between
biology and nation") is evidence for the persistence of
racist thinking on the continent itself. Finally, I could put
into sharp perspective the pathetic efforts by Augsburg's
zoo to create a modern-day Volkerschau,which, as an iso-
lated and singularembarrassment,was quite in contrast to
the late l9th and early 20th centuries, when such ethno-
graphic displays of exotic peoples were enormously pop-
ular and widespread forms of educational entertainment,
sanctioned, to boot, by the leading anthropologists of the
day (Bruckner2003). I could, in other words, point to all
kinds of empirical evidence suggesting that, although
racism and race thinking certainly exist in contemporary
Europe (and should in no way be treated with compla-
cency), they are on the wane.
But our disagreement is clearly conceptual. For Glick
Schiller, race functions as a kind of master concept, or-
ganizing other domains of human existence and radiating
far beyond its origin in somatology. Ideas of biological
difference may have informed it at the beginning, but its
conflation with nation, language, culture, and so on, I sus-
pect she would argue, has rendered race into a more
general sign. Only such a presumed transmutationcan ex-
plain her contention that the very notion of "immutable
difference"is a function of the "historicalview of cultural
differenceas a product of biological essence." Absolute dif-
ference itself, in other words, bears the traces of race,
whether or not it is articulated in a somatic register. As
a consequence, Glick Schiller automatically understands
Islamophobiaas a "variantof race thinking."Thatit may or
may not have something to do with ideas about distinct
bodies is not even relevant. What matters is the construc-
tion of Islamic migrants "as so radicallydifferentthat they
are unassimilable." That in and of itself is evidence for
race thinking.
This is a powerful approach (and very popular among
anthropologistsworkingtoday), not least because it ties so
many distinct phenomena into one overarching frame-
work. But therein also lies its limitation. If all forms of
absolute difference ultimately anchor in race, discerning
instances in which other forms of alteritymight be at work
is no longer possible. What is abandoned is the Boasian
distinction between race, language, and culture; the abil-
ity, in other words, to discriminate analytically(as well as
53C
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politically) between differentdomains of exclusion. This is
highly relevantin the case of Islamophobia,which rests far
more on cultural than somatic presuppositions, an in-
stance of discontinuity with crucial implications for any
attempt to combat it effectively.
To many, the differences between Glick Schiller's
approach and my own will recall debates on the U.S. left.
In the skirmishes between radicals and the kind of liberals
who are more appropriatelycalled "social democrats,"the
issues raised in this AE Forum are of central concern.
Whereas one side rejects globalization as the latest articu-
lation of capitalist expansion, the other regards it as an
inevitability, hoping (naively, perhaps) that it might be
regulated and harnessed for some greater good. Disagree-
ments on race also figure into the debate. A powerful
strand in U.S. radicalism is committed to racialized con-
sciousness as an emancipatory vehicle, a position that
tends to center race not only politically but analytically
as well. Liberals (from those on the left to those in the
center) typicallychampion a race-blindvision (even if only
as an ideal), its recent co-optation by the Right notwith-
standing. More often than not, the two sides encounter
one another in mutual and often angry incomprehension.
To radicals, liberals are disingenuous, at best, dangerous,
at worst. They not only aid the reproduction of the status
quo but in their false pose as leftists, they also muddle and,
hence, undermine a truly progressiveagenda. Liberals,for
their part, are aghast that fellow travelersof the Left should
not readily join them in what they regard as the urgent
struggle of the day, that is, the fight against (neo)conser-
vatism. Across the United States, these debates are quite
lively (esp. on college campuses). Given the largerrealities
of U.S. politics, however, they appear almost off-stage, far
removed, in any case, from the locations of power that
shape present and future.
Not so in Europe.There, the divisions on the left have
often mattered, and, as I write this response in Vienna,
they very much matter again.A week ago, on May 29, 2005,
nearly 55 percent of the French electorate cast their ballots
against the adoption of the E.U. constitution; a few days
later the Dutch electorate cast ballots against adoption of
the constitution as well. The constitutional process is in
turmoil, and, to some, the future of the European Union
itself seems in doubt. In both cases, the reasons for the no
vote were complex, a mixture of anger at national govern-
ments and a sense that the European project is not de-
livering the safety and prosperity it promised. The result,
particularlyin France,was a consequential split of the Left,
with the dissenting Far Left of Communists and Trotsky-
ites finding itself in a peculiar coalition with Jean-MarieLe
Pen's far-right National Front. Both sides opposed the
centrist consensus of Europe's governments to put the
Europeanproject on constitutional footing, a development
that would have strengthened the European parliament,

enabled E.U.-wide petitions, and created a more unified
foreign policy (imagined as a global antipole to the United
States). Against this consolidation of the EuropeanUnion,
the FarRighthad marshaledits usual exclusionaryagenda,
the rejection of Turkey'sE.U. membership and an end to
immigration central among its aims. The Far Left, in turn,
mobilized voters through an antiglobalization platform,
sufficientlydividingthe progressivevote (France'sSocialist
Party, although in opposition, had supported the consti-
tution) to put the anticonstitutional bloc over the top. To
the leftist champions of the "Non," the outcome was a
triumphof antineoliberalresistance,holding out the prom-
ise of a more democratic and egalitarian Europe. Many
observers,however, areless optimistic. In the vote, France's
citizens were not presented with an alternative (i.e., more
democratic) constitution. Instead, their rejection merely
retained the status quo of a Europe less democratic and
more beholden to corporate interests than the one envi-
sioned by the shunned document.
A similarlyfar-reachingdevelopment is takingplace in
Germany.There, against the backdropof a sluggish econ-
omy, persistentlyhigh levels of unemployment, and grow-
ing fears about the future of the welfare state, the recent
provincialelections in the state of North Rhein-Westphalia
ended in a devastating defeat for the coalition of Social
Democratsand Greens,leadingChancellorGerhardSchroder
to call for early federal elections. These will be held in the
fall of 2005,and almost certainlythe Red-Greengovernment
will be voted out of office to be replacedby a conservative
coalition between ChristianDemocrats, Christian Socials,
and Free Democrats.Recent fissures on the left involving
the decampment of former Social DemocraticParty chair-
man OskarLafontaine,who intends to run with the new
ElectionAlternativeforWorkand SocialJusticeParty make
this scenario even more likely.The conservativetakeoveris
likelyto transpireeven though aggressiveneoliberalreforms
are at the core of the center-right parties' stated agenda.
SocialDemocratsand Greensalso sought to curtailthe rising
costs of the welfare state, but at least they were politically
committed to its preservation.Even more disconcerting,
however, is the prospect for Turkey's E.U. membership.
Germany's IJnion of Christian Democrats and Christian
Socials was one of the first parties in the Europeanmain-
stream to adopt the Far Right's anti-Turkeyposition. A
conservative chancellor is likely to obstruct the country's
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Methodsand politics * American Ethnologist
accession. Minimally, additional obstacles would be cre-
ated, but an outright and categoricalrejection of Turkey's
full membership is possible as well (that, after all, is the
party'scurrentplatform).
From the vantage point of Europe's antiglobalization
activists, the current moment is full of hope for a more
democratic future. Others on the left look to the past and
have a more somber association. They remember that the
last time Germany'sLeft split in similar fashion was dur-
ing the interwar period. Then, the country's Communists
made a deliberatechoice, even in the face of Nazism's rise,
to continue the struggle against the Social Democrats and
their weak and hated Weimar Republic. After the revolu-
tion, the future would be blissful. It came differently.
[methods,terminology,continuity, discontinuity,politics]
Notes
1. In his perceptive reading, Boyarin identifies my gloss of
3?urkiss'sstatement as a critique of "right-wingChristianfunda-
mentalism" as an instance that seemingly violates my commit-
ment to the native point of view ("a concept that has meaning . . .
at best only in a North Americancontext").The choice, however,
was deliberate in that I wanted to hint that Purkiss'scomments
seemed to owe much to a criticalU.S. discourse on the intersec-
tion of religion, race, and nation.
2. Without access to my research library,I relied on a useful
summary of the literatureby Pitzer College sociologist of religion
Phil Zuckerman.
References cited
Borneman,John
2003 Someone Won the War! American Ethnologist 30(4):
504-507.
Bruckner,Sierra
2003 Spectacles of (Human)Nature:CommercialEthnography
between Leisure,Learning,and Schaulust. InWorldlyProvin-
cialism: GermanAnthropologyin the Age of Empire. Glenn
Penny and Matti Bunzl, eds. Pp. 127-155. Ann Arbor:Uni-
versity of Michigan Press.
Zuckerman,Phil
2004 Secularization:Europe-Yes, United States No: WhyHas
SecularizationOccurred in Western Europe but Not in the
United States?An Examinationof the Theories and Research.
SkepticalInquirer,March-April.Electronicdocument, http://
www.findarticles.com/ p / articles/ mi_m2843 / is_2_28 / ai_
114090210,accessed June 8, 2005.
537