On Fantasies and Fighting

I once had a dream I took out Clay Guida with an armbar. 

As dreams go, it was quite coherent; we were in the octagon, duking it out in something between a sparring match and full-on fight, until it ended in the triumph of my unexpected skill. As in other dreams, like those where I am speaking another language fluently, my jiu-jitsu was fluid, expert, exhilarating. But unlike the languages gushing forth from the recesses of my sleeping brain, in real life I have never studied martial arts and probably could not even explain how to execute an armbar. Equally puzzling was that I don’t think about Clay Guida in my waking hours; that is, I don’t think he’s especially hot or a big jerk or anything else. The experience of fighting him was neither hostile nor erotic but methodical and structured.

So unlike Josh Koscheck, whose cocky ass I would love to kick if I could, or Georges St. Pierre, who I’d be happy to wrestle for fun, or Ronda Rousey, who genuinely scares the hell out of me, Clay Guida is not someone I have strong opinions about one way or another. So what gives?  

It turns out that Clay Guida was not my first fight fantasy even if he was unique. I frequently have dreams I am fighting other people both verbally and physically. Invariably they are people with whom I have issues in real life. Figures from either my past or present become the targets of emotionally-charged confrontations: grade-school bullies who left surprisingly deep scars; mean girls who spread cruel and unfounded rumors; colleagues who behave like self-absorbed and entitled royalty. Some of them have to take repeated beatings or verbal assaults, like a boy at school who claimed to have a lifelong crush on me but behaved in an abusive and misogynist manner and whose older brother sexually assaulted a close friend of mine. On her behalf and mine, and for all women treated badly by men who confuse love with domination, I have kicked this guy’s ass to the moon at least a dozen times over the years. (In reality, there is only one person I have ever hit in the face, and that too was an abusive man who richly and completely deserved it).

But lest you imagine I am exercising a deep-seated hostility towards men, plenty of women have featured in my fighting fantasies.[1] In addition to the mean girls of yesteryear there are the prima donnas and divas and manipulative narcissists or sociopaths of today who create sometimes intolerable levels of stress, frustration, and anxiety. These are women with whom I do not deign to clash by day but by night benefit from a hearty lashing at my hands. And yes, I typically wake from such dreams with a sense of satisfaction, inchoate though it may be and perhaps inappropriate to admit.     

Reflecting on these dreams – from my bona fide defeat of MMA master Clay Guida to my nocturnal adventures in self-redress – I am led inevitably to larger musings about fantasies of fighting and what purposes they serve or meanings they hold with respect to the dynamics of interpersonal and social conflict.

Many researchers, journalists, and informed observers have remarked on the role of fantasy and myth in conflict. Chris Hedges, in War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning (2002), has written achingly, brutally, about myths and fantasies inherent in the constructions of the self and other in violent conflict. Myths and fantasies are embedded in the autochthony or origin narratives of all nation-states, though usually the violence at the center of this process is mythologized as something not-violence. So the genocide of Native Americans by the expansion of settler colonialism, for example, is reconstructed in the secular mythology and fantasy of tolerant pilgrims sharing food and goodwill with docile “Indians.” The death of soldiers in war is sanitized and glorified as selfless and courageous sacrifice; appearing like the ultimate and perhaps most offensive fantasy for those, again like Hedges, who have witnessed mortally wounded soldiers crying out for their mothers as they face imminent (and ultimately unnecessary) death. And myths and fantasies themselves lead to and sustain war, from weapons of mass destruction to the lurking threat of Shari’a law taking over the state of Tennessee.

I realize I am guilty here of conflating disparate categories, such as conflict, aggression, violence and war; something in previous posts I have described as flabby and undisciplined thinking. However, as they all belong to a broader family of human dynamics, in some cases I think such conflation (or lack of differentiation) can be useful and generative.

Fantasies and myths – and dreams, too, as Jung reminds us – are symbol systems. As such they express in condensed, imprecise, and extremely powerful ways the deeper “realities” of social life. They betray the fissures and conflicts that we suppress, compartmentalize and gloss over as we muddle through together, interpersonally and collectively. Despite the very real conflicts we feel with individual others as well as both latent and manifest conflicts occurring on larger scales, it is a fact (often overlooked) that humanity spends far more time repressing and resolving conflict than actually engaging in it. And not all conflict, of course, is violent. 

So for instance (and this is purely hypothetical, of course) I may perceive a conflict with a colleague I strongly dislike and with whom I have tried – repeatedly, to my frustration – to improve my relationship. Concluding that she is unwilling to collaborate with me on the hard work of getting along, I now avoid engaging with her at all because it would seem to increase the chance of escalating our latent conflict to a manifest one. And escalating the conflict would just make my daily life more difficult. When I imagine attempting to dialogue with her I feel more agitated. Frankly, I would like to grab her by the neck, throw her back up against a wall, and growl that she needs to stay out of my way or I will rearrange her face in ways her plastic surgeon can’t.

This fantasy, it turns out, feels eminently more satisfying than any of the real scenarios available to me (including the one in which I actually do grab her by the neck and body-slam her into a wall). And it therefore contributes to my ability to avoid escalating the conflict in real life. I will never assault her physically and probably not verbally either. I am far too nice, professional, dignified and peaceful for that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t imagine it, and it also doesn’t mean that the imagining of it doesn’t play an important part in my ability to not actually do it. So fantasies, myths and dreams underpin our ability to engage in conflict and also may prevent us from doing so.

What then of my dream about Clay Guida? This fantasy was one in which structure was central (the disciplined rules of MMA) and emotion was lacking (I don’t hate or love Clay Guida one way or another). Within the firm and clear parameters of clear rules and norms, aggression and the use of violent force became their inverse: they were not-conflict. 

Within an MMA bout, paradoxically, conflict is defused as fighters channel aggression in way that often leads to greater mutual respect and rarely spills out into extra-curricular beefs. In daily life, though, as in war (which increasingly operates without so-called “rules,” not even formal declarations of such), conflict, aggression or violence are rarely self-limiting. That is, engaging in a violent confrontation with my colleague would not resolve our problems but would merely create more, just as sending drones to bomb terrorists into oblivion will not bring peace but further war.  

My dream about taking Clay Guida out with an armbar was unique and I have never had another one like it. But it pushed me to reflect more deeply on the many dreams I have had in which I cheerfully kicked someone’s ass and really meant it. I think it helps buttress my argument that MMA is, like other forms of ritualized and structured violence, ultimately a force for defusing conflict because it is inherently self-limiting. Whereas the actual exercise of violent conflict, especially in contexts where rules and norms do not abide, is self-perpetuating. 

Fantasies, dreams, and myths – at least mine, in this rather indulgent exercise in auto-ethnographic theorization - are a symbolic window into our deeper social realities and our psyches. As such, they can tell us something profound about ourselves, our own societies, and possibly humanity as whole.       

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[1] They are not MMA fighters, because plainly those women would beat me to a pulp in ten seconds.

Round 2014: Back to the Blogtagon

Well, ring my bell.

It has been almost two years since I last posted on Mixed Martial Anthropology. Not for lack of motivation or interest, mind you, but the sheer demands on my time and attention, only a tiny portion of which I spend watching or thinking about MMA. Chalk it up to the paradox of academia as a profession, the perfect and most poignant example of how commodification produces alienated labor (aside from perhaps the way that signing with the UFC has killed more than one fighter's passion for the sport).

I pursued academia as a vocation so I could spend my life reading, writing, thinking, and learning in an open, critical discursive community of knowledge. This remains part of what I do but increasingly an ever smaller part. The vital essence of my work as unalienated, as an expression of my creativity and human subjectivity, is drained away by the requirements to produce, to teach, to serve on committees, to perform. Perhaps the hallmark of success in such a context is that you have successfully turned something you love to do into something you have to do. I did not want this blog to become that. I did not want to feel like I "had" to write it. I did not want to turn my creative interest in MMA into work. As soon as I started feeling like I had to write the blog I quit the blog.  As soon as someone asked me if I would study MMA I stopped wanting to reflect on MMA critically. In so far as such a thing is possible for someone trained to analyze everything, that is.

And yet what inspired me to begin writing MMAnthro in the first place was the puzzlement of my students in my Anthropology of Warfare, Violence and Peace course about my apparently strange fixation on this postmodern bloodsport. Perhaps it's no coincidence that I am teaching that same course again now. I am again exploring with my students that perennial and deeply human co-dependency between violence and peace, aggression and compassion, love and hate, life and death; violence as destructive as well as generative and creative; the relationship between gender and sexuality and militarism; the role of media and propaganda in shaping perceptions of war in the past and present; the way we talk so little about peace and conflict resolution - although these are actually more prevalent in human experience - and focus endlessly on violence and war. And all of that reminds me what it is I find fascinating about MMA in particular and how it evokes a range of other human dynamics in general. 

There's also the occasional email that arrives from someone who stumbled over MMAnthro while out trolling the blogosphere, most recently an anthropology student in the UK (thanks, Evan!) who thinks the blog is cool and is rooting for Alistair Overeem in UFC 169. Lo and behold, there's over 1600 hits on these few  posts (and who knows how many plagiarized term papers!)

So maybe it's time to pull it together again, not for the sake of glory or ambition or anything else other than the fact that there is something inherently interesting going on that might deserve some critical reflection and commentary.

I invite you to send me your own thoughts on the themes of MMAnthro: "social science, social justice, and martial arts as metaphor and reality." It's round 2014 in the Blogtagon!

Elephants vs. Rhinos: Enter the African Fighting Championship

When elephants and rhinos fight, your ass might be grass.

The proper African proverb is a bit more dignified, of course: “When two elephants fight,” it says, “the grass is trampled.” The saying is meant to draw attention to the suffering of the masses when politicians, militaries, and other big men clash. I have uniquely adapted it for the Blogtagon, however, and more specifically in honor of the world’s newest MMA league, the African Fighting Championship.

The AFC came to my attention as a result of this blog - validating what ace anthroscience blogger Kate Clancy once told me: a good blog can become self-sustaining. As people read and comment, new topics present themselves. Although lack of time rather than topic is my persistent problem, I could scarcely contain myself when my friendly fellow anthropologist David O’Kane emailed me from Freetown, Sierra Leone. He thought I might be interested in a newsflash about some upcoming fights. It was reported in the local paper that “Guinean heavyweight boxing champion, Morlai Camara whose height is 12-feet, bodyweight 91kg, age 26 and a soldier by designation” would be competing in the December 9, 2011 bouts of this brand new West African league.

I could find no further information on Morlai Camara, though you’d think a 12-foot, 200 pound dude might draw some attention. I did locate some further details on the AFC, however, starting with a brief reference on an MMA website and film clip from an in-progress documentary entitled “Rougher than Diamonds,” credited to Los Angeles-based filmmaker Dean Mongan. Digging further, and sorting past the obviously well-funded and UFC-modeled South African league called EFC (“E” for Extreme, not for “Efrica,” though I can hear the Afrikaans lilt now), I finally hit on some YouTube videos and the fledging AFC website. In addition to the logo of an elephant and rhino facing off, I was particularly intrigued by the text on the AFC homepage:

“Wars, famines, poverty, oppression and rampant disease and death create a harsh reality many Africans live through on a daily basis. You must fight daily just to survive. It is under these conditions where nature molds some of the world’s fiercest warriors. These warriors are not trained in expensive gyms by world class trainers with top of the line equipment. These fighters have proven themselves in real life and death situations and they are fighting for their very survival.”

While I am anthropologically obligated to question whether “nature” is inevitably molding anyone in some essentialist way, and I’m deeply critical of the ubiquitous “warrior” designation as applied to martial artists, I can certainly see how the co-founders of the AFC and their four member fighters resonate with this perspective. The footage of the fighters training in simply outfitted gyms and fighting in the grass, apparently refereed by soldiers, raises numerous questions worth pursuing in and out of the Blogtagon. (Now officially Facebooked and in communication with AFC co-founders Dean Mongan and Jim McKeon means I am off to a good start. I’ve also asked another friendly fellow anthropologist, Danny Hoffman, for input. He’s written some amazing stuff on Sierra Leone and Liberia).

Sierra Leone, as most everyone knows, has been the site of intense political violence and civil war, drawing especially heavily on young males and shaping aggression in enormously destructive ways. Who are the young men fighting in the AFC? One of them, Alfred Bangora, self-identifies as a “war orphan.” I suspect others are former combatants, a hunch I plan to follow up. There can be no doubt that losing both of your parents in a civil war, or perhaps killing someone else’s parents, would leave you with some anger issues.

So in what ways might the experience of armed conflict, militarism, and violence interface with mixed martial arts? Existing findings, such as those by Loïc Wacquant referenced in an earlier post, indicate that many young men who pursue pugilism as a vocation come from backgrounds shaped by structural and physical violence; however, far from aggravating anomic, destructive tendencies, boxing and martial arts seem to channel aggression into structured forms that take their acceptable expression only in the gym and the ring (or the grass circle, in the case of the AFC). This point was recently emphasized by well-known Albuquerque-based trainer Greg Jackson, who remarked (on a television clip I saw but can’t relocate) that many young men who come to his gym are full of rage due to difficult life experiences and find a critical outlet for these emotions through training. Thus redirected, the aggression becomes a source of self-esteem and constructive purpose. Bruce Lee himself was first a Hong Kong street fighter before he became, well, Bruce Lee. And as Wacquant found, professional fighters actively avoid conflict in any other setting than the ring: their reputation and self-respect comes to depend on exercising “violence” in one context only.

But there’s no doubt that MMA fighters perceive their art as akin to warfare. This has been illustrated in the handful of qualitative studies done with MMA fighters (e.g. Milton 2004 a,b). It was later backed up by a study conducted by Peter Jensen, an active duty serviceman, sports psychologist, and MMA practitioner who occasionally sat in on my Anthropology of Warfare, Violence, and Peace class. Jensen (2012) found that while the warfare metaphor is frequently invoked by fighters, another key element is how fighters view their opponents as respected peers. “Participants valued their opponent as a fellow athlete within a unique competitive experience,” he writes. “They viewed the physical sacrifices and dangers of the sport as an inevitable aspect and did not specifically assign any malice to the actions of an opponent or fault their opponent for injuries they incurred through competition.” This is a key departure from a common, well-known dynamic in actual warfare, wherein one’s opponents are not particular individuals but rather any interchangeable number of people who fit the common category of “enemy.” Far from “peers” in any sense, opponents in war – even when they are members of one’s own social group – are reduced to a depersonalized and typically dehumanized and despised “other.”

In the mainstream MMA context, while fighters may talk about taking on “anyone” or invoke metaphors of war, perhaps even denigrate their opponent with some trash talking, anyone who has watched the countdowns or paid any attention to what takes place before and after a bout knows that the fighters are hardly dealing with one another as undifferentiated categorical representations. They become intimately – if antagonistically – involved in one another’s personal psyches, physical characteristics, and fighting styles. They train in ways specifically designed to overcome an opponent’s strengths using a combination of cognitive and combative abilities. And they are always evenly matched in skill, if often unique in style. Witness Carlos Condit’s victory over Nick Diaz in UFC 143. Aside from Nick Diaz being a good example of a guy whose evident anger and aggression might have landed him in prison or the morgue were he not channeling himself in MMA, the interim welterweight championship bout was a beautiful testament to how fighters adapt to their individual opponent, rather than to any number of possible opponents in general.

I’ll be honest here: I was pretty sure Diaz would win. But Condit’s ability to consistently evade Diaz’s relentless forward march, punching and kicking as he moved backwards while filtering out the psychological pressure of Diaz’s trash talk in the ring, was clearly because Condit prepared to fight no one other than Diaz. And when Diaz actually embraced Condit after his win, rather than flipping him off or trying to tear his head off ex officio (he saved this for a diss on the UFC in general), it was obvious that a measure of respect was the final outcome. So while similarities between MMA and warfare might present themselves on the surface, a bit of probing suggests a very different dynamic. I can’t think of a single war with these ingredients: evenly matched opponents engaging with full consent and preparation, motivated by the specific and very human characteristics of the Other, who ultimately emerge from combat not just alive but actually respecting – perhaps even liking – each other a little bit more. And liking themselves. This is one reason why I object strenuously - although I get it logically - to the US military's usage of MMA as a "hook" for recruiting soldiers and glorifying nationalism. (I reiterate my promise to blog on that another day).

All of this is to say that it is intriguing to think about what young men (and young women) in places like Sierra Leone make of the MMA experience. Is the African Fighting Championship a potential resource for reconciliation and peacebuilding? Does it represent a mode through which people damaged by warfare might rebuild respect for themselves and for others, (re)humanizing opponents through the individuation and structure inherent in the sport? Or are these hopelessly ethnocentric and intellectual questions for something far more raw than I want to admit? Stay tuned for further investigations. And if you know anything about the AFC, or claim any insight about aggression, warfare, and martial arts cross-culturally, hit me up. 

Not literally, of course.

References

Jensen, Peter R. et al. 2012. “In the Cage: A Phenomenological Investigation of Mixed Martial Artists’ Experience of Competition.” The Sport Psychologist, in press. 

Milton, M. (2004a). “Being a fighter: It’s a whole state of being.” Existential Analysis. 15 (1):116-130.

Milton, M. (2004b). “Being a fighter II: It’s a positive thing around my male friends.” Existential Analysis. 15 (2): 285-297.

Anthropology as a Martial Art

One of the most famous social theorists-cum-activists of the contemporary era, Pierre Bourdieu, noted that social science is “a fighting sport.”

In his political writings (published as a collection in 2010) and in the 2001 documentary film, both called “Sociology is a Martial Art,” Bourdieu – with a lucidity uncharacteristic of his often impenetrable academic prose – demonstrated how social science can be a principled “means of self-defense” as well as a tool for the defense of ideas, positions, and populations dominated or silenced by asymmetrical power relations. In both his theoretical contributions and his political activism, Bourdieu demonstrated how combat is as much or more about critical cognition as it is about brute force. And like the martial arts, social science requires years of training, discipline, and the willingness to get your ass kicked and your ego – if not your face – battered and bruised. This point was beautifully illustrated (if not explicitly theorized) by one of Bourdieu’s students and collaborators, Loïc Wacquant, who not only to wrote about the structural conditions that motivate poor and working class men to pursue boxing as a vocation but himself trained in pugilism long before he ever got around to studying it.[1]

The Blogtagon is an ideal setting in which to meditate on Bourdieu’s metaphor of social science as martial art. One of the reasons why I love martial arts in general and MMA in particular is the richness of this metaphorical parallel. Of course, not all social science can be likened to a combat sport; it’s hard to imagine that ethnographers of, say, cheese-making or Native American beadwork would find the metaphor relevant let alone exciting. But for those of us who study the dynamics of conflict, violence, militarism and power broadly defined, being intellectually fit and always fight-ready is a requirement. Not only must we work at understanding the cultural, historical and structural conditions that precipitate violent conflict, but we are often called upon - or otherwise compelled on principle - to stake a position on issues that are contentious at best and, at worst, matters of life and death. As Bourdieu noted in a 1996 interview in Greece, “The intellectual can no longer be just a voice of critical conscience, seeking to assert within the political world the truths and values that prevail in his or her universe. He or she must also bring a genuine specific competence into the service of the causes he or she wishes to defend.”[2]

Bourdieu’s own career began with his analysis of the mundane and symbolic forms of domination among the Kabyle people of Algeria. His fieldwork was done under difficult conditions – the Algerian war of liberation was on – and Bourdieu was shifting focus from material and economic forms of exploitation to examine how inequalities and oppression (of women, of poorer classes, of youth) were woven into the taken-for-granted warp and woof of everyday life. This no doubt made him unpopular among both the left and the right. The AFLN, as Marxist-Leninists, were emphasizing political-economic, materialist exploitation, while conservative elites were interested in having neither the material nor symbolic dimensions that enabled their power, wealth, or prestige identified and critiqued (let alone dismantled – which is, of course, much more likely once people have begun to notice these things). Bourdieu thus describes how he “learned his craft” of social science in the midst of the Algerian war and how analyzing symbolic domination was tantamount to declaring intellectual war. In Algeria, he found “that intellectual rivalries could, when the occasion presented itself, take the most violent forms,” and in 1968 he actually went into hiding as a result of being blacklisted in Algeria.[3]

While comparing myself to Pierre Bourdieu would be immodest (ridiculous, actually) I understand and embrace the notion of anthropology as a combat sport. Studying conflict, war, domination, militarism, forced migration and political struggle generally and intervening where possible to ameliorate the impacts on actual people – not to mention pursuing academia as a vocation - requires an iron constitution, a fighting spirit ruled first and foremost by the mind, and an outlet or two for expressing stress and frustration. Structured combat sports like boxing and MMA are appealing for the way they channel and make sense of aggressive, competitive impulses while stopping far short of the horror and trauma of war or political violence. Whether one trains in these sports or simply spectates, they are nonetheless symbolically appealing. As Bourdieu would have agreed (I dare say), along with many other canonical anthropologists, from Levi-Strauss to Turner to Geertz to the Comaroffs, this symbolic dimension is essential to human thought and action. Through metaphors and symbols that tweak and channel our emotions and other bodily senses we make our worlds coherent and are enabled, even motivated, to act.

I study, among other things, the impact and experiential dimensions of war and political violence on multiple generations of people from the northeast African country of Eritrea, which also happens to be one of the most militarized countries in the world and one of the most ardently nationalistic. It’s nasty and contentious business, to be perfectly candid, and often depressing to boot, even though I have come to know some wonderful and inspiring individuals and organized groups. Despite the protracted suffering and dislocation that has affected virtually everyone, some people have nonetheless benefited and therefore fiercely defend – “revere” is not too strong a word - the policies and practices of the government. These policies and practices have destroyed the lives of many others, however, especially young people serving compulsory military duty. They have also led to some of the highest refugee flows in the world. I know these stories very intimately. I’ve spent countless hours in the company of the people who lived them, some of whom think critically about them and some of whom can barely think at all thanks to the militarization of education and obliteration of free thought. Despite whatever defense might be mounted by government supporters there is simply no justification for the extent of abuse, torture, and repression precipitated in the name of sovereignty, patriotism, or national security. This is true for every country, including the United States. It’s a principled position that must be defended everywhere with no apologies.

Having once been heroes of a liberation war and architects of a social revolution that contained very progressive elements (as well repressive ones, unfortunately), the government is adept at tapping into the symbolic and material needs, desires, and interests of various strands of its population. By tweaking symbols and emotions associated with patriotism, national belonging, xenophobia, fear, shame, hatred of "enemies" internal and external, the pain of exclusion or marginality, and left-wing righteous indignation at the exploitation and manipulation of poor and developing nations by rich and powerful ones, ruling elites in Eritrea are able to maintain political and economic support while debilitating the critical faculties of otherwise intelligent people. Most useful are the first and second generations of Eritreans who live in places like the US and Canada. Removed from the daily practice of repressive, militarized governance in the home country and presented with powerful symbols and potential material benefits (a sense of belonging, a nice piece of land in one’s home village, the ability to come and go freely), as well as a compelling narrative on the hypocrisy of the so-called free and democratic West, Eritreans who fled the country during the liberation war are a wellspring of political and economic support for the ruling regime. Their kids are even more promising. Now in their teens through thirties, many Western-born and raised Eritreans take great pride in the success, sacrifice, heroism, and left-wing rebel orientation of the freedom-fighters-turned government (as well they should, in some important sense). But they are unable (unwilling?) to easily access the quotidian reality in Eritrea, even when they go “back home” to visit, because elites have created an elaborate Disneyland version of the home country complete with parades, festivals, cultural expos and orchestrated trips to the Sawa military training facility where visiting youth can literally pretend to be the next generation of “freedom fighters” without having to sacrifice or endure much of anything.[4]

The performance of militaristic Eritrean values coincides powerfully with similarly militaristic values promoted in Western contexts, but the Eritrean version taps into a nationalist pride and belonging that is often denied to young people of African and refugee origin in places like the US and Canada. The “free” access to militarized higher education and ubiquitous government-run development projects carried out by military conscript labor in Eritrea appear not as repressive techniques or human rights abuses to these diaspora people, but as examples of a successful revolution in which ever-mobilized masses take part through sacrifice and hard work. Those who run away – the refugees now pouring out of the country because of the real, lived effects of these policies and practices – are cast as “traitors” who have embraced Westernized, individualistic values (or, in more paranoid terms, been seduced by the CIA). The twists of irony are painful, deep and diabolical. I scarcely need excavate them further, but suffice it to say it’s the left-leaning, socially liberal denizens of Western countries who support the authoritarianism and lack of justice and freedom in Eritrea because to them it represents the forms of freedom and justice lacking in the West. They would rather witness the sacrifice of thousands of their compatriots than rethink this “imagined community” cynically conjured by elites. Such political (il)logic is hardly unique to Eritrea and Eritreans, though the most nationalistic would never notice let alone admit it because nationalist logic trades in exceptionalism rather than contexts and comparisons.

Pointing out these diabolical ironies is equally painful and perilous for the social scientist. I myself am blacklisted in Eritrea, just as Bourdieu was in Algeria in the late 60s. Every time I write something on Eritrea (including this blog) I must prepare for an attack. One of the more recent ones actually came not from an Eritrean but from an American living in Eritrea who responded with vitriol to my analysis (published in Counterpunch – note the pugilistic title of the publication!) of the Eritrean refugee crisis and its political-economic underpinnings. [5] We’ll leave aside the fact that the analysis wasn’t so much about Eritrea as it was about the failures of international humanitarian responses and forced migration policies. The “last white man living in Eritrea,” as he calls himself, found my work objectionable because it critiqued the material and symbolic forms of domination that militarized nationalism embodies and the lived effects on actual people forced to flee the country. As a person with a left-wing political orientation and possessing at least mid-range intelligence and critical thinking skills (evidenced not in his shrill and inarticulate emails to me but in some pieces he published as a self-styled independent journalist) this man’s inability to cognitively penetrate the reality in which he claimed to be immersed was striking. It was a testament to the power of the government to create multiple projections of itself for the consumption of various targets – in this case, that of a sympathetic white American living in Eritrea. I would speculate that his response was also born of material and physical necessity, just as it was evidence of how coercion is operationalized through consent. Certainly, the “last white man in Eritrea” would no longer be permitted to remain there should he do anything but defend the regime; he would no longer “belong,” just as those Eritreans who resist or raise critical objections are exiled physically and symbolically. The manipulation of politics through symbolic and emotional means works very well indeed; it displaces and redirects the capacity of those who might otherwise object by offering them apparently irresistible rewards.

My response to the attack was one of Bruce Lee’s “fighting without fighting.” I chose not to engage. Despite the urgings of others to give ‘em hell, I refused to allow this pugnacious opponent to draw me in. The reason? He was a poorly trained, unfit dirty boxer backed by thugs and in violation of all the rules of acceptable engagement. By appealing to the phantasmagoric construction of a free and socially just Eritrea in which he (personally) lived unmolested, he dismissed the experiences and the suffering of countless thousands of others with fewer choices and far less privilege than he. By cozying up to a dictatorship and claiming his own concessions as matters of principle and his individual experience as an authoritative reflection of some common reality, he violated every form of human, ethical, intellectual and political integrity conceivable. (He also contacted virtually everyone on my CV, the head of my academic department, and the Chancellor of the university where I teach to accuse me of “failure of due diligence” in my research - largely, it seemed, because I hadn’t asked him his opinion). He simply wasn’t a worthy opponent. Besides, I subscribe to Bourdieu’s position that social science, whatever else it might be, is not a tool for the elite to validate their actions. And therein lies the reason why I find most hysterical nationalists and defenders of militant nationalism - of any variety - unworthy opponents to engage directly. They are not equipped for confrontations that take place according to logic, rationality, reason, evidence, critical thought, compassion, and an open exchange of ideas. They neither respect nor observe these rules.

And so they don’t get to play in my Blogtagon. Strapping on the gloves and going a few rounds of Muay Thai? Now maybe that would work out better for all of us.

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[1] Wacquant, Loïc J.D.. 1995. “The Puglistic Point of View: How Boxers Think and Feel About Their Trade.” Theory and Society 24:4, pp. 489-535.

[2] Sapiro, Gisele, ed. 2010. Sociology is a Martial Art: Political Writings by Pierre Bourdieu. New York: The New Press. p. 258

[3] Sociology is a Martial Art, p. 266

[4] I am indebted to my brilliant young protégé, ST (you know who you are), for these ideas and insights. 

[5] http://www.counterpunch.org/2011/04/22/human-tsunamis/