Towards an anthropology of London - context and positionality

Building on my preliminary study of how to approach an anthropology of London (see last entry) I am going to continue thinking about how I would approach an anthropological study of the city in which I live, focussing on the idea of multiplex identities, and how context plays a fundamental role in investigation. Although I may be a native of London, and this arguably gives me an ‘insiders’ perspective into the various peculiarities of the city, I do not have authority to speak for the enormous range of people who live here, and at times I may feel like a stranger in the city myself. 

The late Stuart Hall was incredibly influential in the area of cultural identity, arguing against the idea of ‘fixed’ identity in favour of one that is more pluralistic, fluid and in a constant state of flux. If we can take this theory of cultural identity - which completely transforms how we perceive other peoples cultural heritage - and apply it to identity in general, then we must question the rigidity of the labelling of ‘native’ anthropologists. How far does a ‘native’ of London who has grown up in an affluent area with a privileged education remain a ‘native’ when they are in an underprivileged, working class neighbourhood? Similarly, in my daily life I may adopt a number of different identities depending on the situation, such as student, flat mate, son or childhood friend.

The implications of a multi layered, pluralistic understanding of identity challenge the notion of a ‘native’ anthropologist. Growing up in South London, I gained a thorough understanding of the neighbourhoods I inhabited, from the geography of the local areas and the associations of particular places to the slang used by people in my age group. Although this knowledge could potentially give me an insiders perspective into my local area, it’s usefulness would be severely undermined if I were in North London, thus demonstrating the unstable claim of being a ‘native’ anthropologist in London. Additionally, even if my middle-class upbringing and state school education mean I can claim to be a ‘native’ within certain circles, there are others where this would not be the case. Nevertheless, my identity as a Londoner is unquestionable, and therefore I’m arguably in an advantageous position in attempting an anthropology of London. 

One critique of ‘native’ anthropology is that any person who has been brought up in a particular culture or society, and then attempts an analysis of this environment, will potentially overlook elements which have become so engrained into their person, or everyday occurrences which they have grown to take for granted. We can refer to this shortcoming as being ‘blind to the familiar’. Malinowski, the great forefather of the fieldwork method, mentioned the necessity of noting apparently trivial occurrences whilst in the field for exactly this reason - to prevent the inevitability of one becoming blind to the familiar. Interesting, after an extended period of time travelling through Spain and Morocco I returned to the UK, and while on a night out shortly after my return I noticed how regularly  people whispered into each others ears; this was not necessarily done with secret intentions, but nevertheless it was something I was almost certain I hadn’t encountered over three months travelling outside of my home town, demonstrating how certain features of one’s own society can become blind to them through repetition. 

‘Native’ anthropology can be seen as a response to what is commonly called the ‘crisis’ of anthropology, which occurred following decolonisation and a questioning of the ethics and agenda behind the anthropological project. During this time there was a shifting awareness in national consciousness, as many nations won their battle for independence, and the link between anthropology and imperialism / colonialism was brought under sharper focus. ‘Native’ anthropology in the 1970’s involved a focus on ‘non-Western’ thought, in response to the objectivity and subordination shown towards the colonised people by the West which had lasted for centuries. However, as I have shown in my preliminary study towards an anthropology of London, ‘native’ anthropology no longer necessarily implies a focus on ‘non-Western’ thought, and is understood rather as anthropology conducted by an anthropologist in his own cultural and social environment, regardless of where that may be. 

Native Anthropology- Preliminary Sketches: On London Life

I am a born and bred Londoner. My experiences at home have long been dictated by the city in which I live. From an education and teenage years spent predominantly in the South East, I have only recently moved out to the West of London, far more centrally located than my childhood suburb. London is a cauldron of different nationalities, ethnicities, and extremes on both sides of the wealth scale, all spread across an equally diverse geographical area. I am interested in questions such as what makes this city tick, and what are the characteristics of a ‘Londoner’, but am also aware of the risk of generalisation in those statements. 

Undoubtedly my position as a Londoner will influence my interpretation. Perhaps more than anything else my identity has been shaped by the city in which I live and love. My background will inevitably influence my assessment, and although this has limitations, because it’s impossible for me to view phenomenon objectively as a stranger would, it’s also possible for me to use this position to my advantage, because if the aim is to unpick the mental make up of a Londoner then I must consider myself as a subject in the investigation. 

Taking individual cases from London everyday life - whether it be a bread seller in Borough market, a banker in the city, an artist in Hackney or a hairdresser in Bow - is one way to hope to illuminate the objects of interest. Les Back takes a similar approach in The Art of Listening when he proposes making “personal troubles public issues”, with the goal of fostering a climate of listeners, a society where individual stories can be dissected for their significance and the clamour of information does not invade our capacity for reflection. Although this approach could yield results, one limitation would be that in such a diverse city any attempt to reach a diverse range of individuals would inevitably exclude far more than it included. 

Perhaps it would be possible to attempt an assessment of the consciousness of the London population, using theoretical platforms such as Lukacs’ class consciousness as a starting point. There is a clear divide in London between the working class and the minority who have most of the capital, and viewed through a historical materialist perspective this inequality would be our starting point. Or we could take Simmel’s essay On Metropolitan Life and investigate how the constant stimuli in an urban setting can limit the range of free thought - something implicit in Les Back’s study on listening and which has renewed significance as we advance further into the digital age. 

Having grown up in the South East, this is the area I feel most confident in tackling. In typical London fashion, the different neighbourhoods that were my stomping ground have plenty of material for investigation. An investigation into the different diaspora communities - such as the West Indian in Brixton or the African in Peckham - could potentially give an insight into London’s diversity in general. These areas have also in recent history been associated with crime, leading to low house prices and an influx of a new young urban class, currently referred to as the ‘gentrification’ of these neighbourhoods. 

Community projects in South East London - such as the Free Film Festival network, a volunteer run movement in New Cross, Deptford, Peckham and Herne Hill, and the musical cooperative Steez - would be examples of specific case studies used to illuminate the sense of community involved in these enterprises. I would argue that these organisations, particularly the Free Film Festival movement, offer a unique avenue into a refreshingly inclusive group which unites behind the medium of film, but which is more about fostering community sprit in potentially disparate areas.¹ 

Here I have outlined a few potentially areas of study towards an anthropology of London. These are my areas of interest, and using Les Back’s guidelines in The Art of Listening I would attempt to use individual case studies to make the private public, but refraining as much as possible from generalisations. Observing everyday interactions of the every man / woman would also mean that the object of my study remains within the sphere of my London life, thus keeping the process as organic as possible. Using theoretical frameworks as a basis for investigation may also allow for general patterns to emerge, and this would contribute towards giving an answer to the holistic question of what is means to be a Londoner, and how London life is shaped by the city which mediates it. 

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1 Upon re-reading, I would add that Steez is also a refreshingly inclusive group, which unites around the medium of music, and spoken word.

El Camino de Santiago

El Camino de Santiago- The Walk of Santiago- is a medieval pilgrimage which still attracts thousands of tourists today.  With routes spanning across the whole of Spain, all converging upon the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in the North-east, it’s a great way to explore this diverse country which, unknown to many, boasts great mountains as well as barren semi-desert terrain. Whilst on the Camino you will walk, eat and sleep with your fellow pilgrims, spending nights in varied refuges, known as Albergues, which are found along the route.

Although the majority of pilgrims commit to reaching the great cathedral, and set goals for the distance they want to travel each day, I found myself on the Camino without a map, walking boots, or a definite goal. At first I spent five days walking along Spain’s picturesque north coast, before myself and a German priest decided to leave the route and busk in a nearby city for a couple of days. However it wasn’t long before I was back on the Camino trail.

I found it virtually impossible to travel around Spain without walking parts of the Camino, as you are never very far away from one of its many routes. This inevitably means you are never far from an Albergue, which has great appeal to someone who doesn’t want to spend a lot of money, as their prices range from donativo (donation) to 10 euros. As well as being an all-round cheap venture, the routes takes pilgrims through many beautiful and interesting places in Spain’s varied history and landscape.

Walking up to distances of 40km a day allows plenty of time for contemplation, and the journey is often undertaken by those in search of enlightenment, or self-discovery. However, the Camino is what you make of it, and there is huge flexibility in how you shape your journey. For example I arrived in Spain via ferry and intended to travel southwards, with the eventual aim of arriving in Morocco, and therefore after a while I became known as the boy “walking the camino backwards”, because I was walking away from Santiago de Compostela.

I hitch hiked and occasionally caught buses between different cities and towns while in Spain, but nearly always found myself back on El Camino de Santiago. The Albergues are a refuge after a long day, and places where people of all ages and backgrounds can rejoice in the spirit of the Camino, sharing their ups and downs, as well as the varied experiences they have had. I discovered that the people I met were often walking their second or third Camino, demonstrating its unique ability to engross people, who become infected with the Camino ‘bug’.

Walking the Camino is undoubtedly a rewarding experience, partly because it’s a great way to explore Spain’s varied culture, across its many autonomous communities. The relative low cost of walking the Camino is also a big plus, as are the friendly people one is bound to meet. And although walking the long distances is inevitably difficult, I am sure the euphoric emotion felt by pilgrims when entering the great city of Santiago de Compostela makes it all worthwhile.  

The rain follows the first sunny journey

The rain follows the first sunny journey, appearing to quell the euphoria. Time lapses, feet step, and I embark on my first adventure.

The refuge vehicle, summoned from The Gods on a deserted road. 

We play, we drink, we sleep- we discuss love and the pilgrimage to Santiago- who knows the true path?

I falter, I stumble, and the eagle man brings peace to an Astorgan hillside.

Another realm- I trek blindly towards this offering. Tired, defeated, and in need of a new belt, my misery is recorded and stored away- a hidden treasure.

Life resumes, and the town parties- I sink into the festival, and make pleasantries, extending to a kiss.

The spliff blows and Salamanca opens up- a blooming flower, its presence longing my stay. But alas, I must leave.

The big city unleashes its mystery, and I call on friends who provide shelter, but the earth calls me back.

Fortresses scatter the land, and their tranquil defence reflects my head space.

Complacency (perhaps) yields to a disastrous attempt at the drop South, so I plunge myself into Feria: I know it’s close now.

The internal fortress strengthens, and a moments respite leads to Magic- playmobile caves. Twilight existence personified in this community of wayward identity.

However the strength is not to be underestimated, and I find purpose for the final step.

Rapidly, and with internal understanding, I glide into the greatness I have been searching for. A place of extremes- darkness and light. The sea holds hope for some, while constantly remaining a barrier for others- I struggle with my own initial barrier, but the gateway soon opens magnificently and a world is brought into sharper focus.

Matrimony of the body- a clean sweep, utter satisfaction on an uncultivated terrace.

A plastic face confirms the route- at a price- and the wind wraps itself around the town. How much can one inhale in two days? Its beauty is clear and unashamed- but without surrounding myself in its Western abyss, I leave.

I left London, I left a prosperous routine, and now I leave Marrakesh- the calm before the storm. I swam and now I prepare to fly- the final mode of transport. The final step, and arguably the greatest since the first ferry, two months ago.

Oh how time flies, and now I fly too. At one with the forces, for now- a product of my journey.

A new language, new plans and new lands- for that I’m grateful. Continued strength, reinforced ambition and the process of the Self- for that I’m tranquil.

The  next step- there is always a next step- is the anticipated return. The water is calm, but the current remains strong- a force that can easily pull one under or elevate you to the sky.

The cycle continues, and a braver man would appreciate The Gods- those untouchable ideals of fate and destiny. I prefer to appreciate their magic, rather than decipher their purpose.

Perhaps this is wise, or merely a delayed struggle- why fight against the current when the water is flowing in the right direction?

One step at a time is the only way, when the process is simplified to its most tranquil simplicity.

Stepping off the plane will undoubtedly feel huge, but I can take courage in the small steps I have taken, nearly always managing to find my balance.

I have faith that equilibrium will be restored, but the inevitable wobbles and falls await all- and it’s the equilibrium we find in ourselves which takes centre stage. 

Laurence and Wallmart buy a camel and go to the Sahara Desert

Marrakesh Square looked bright and hazy the day that two friends became men. The purchase of a camel is not a joke, and the issue weighed heavily on the heart of Laurence as he prepared to choose one of the three camels which lay before him.

Camel one was bold and muscular- arguably a wise choice considering the extremity of The Sahara. Camel two also had its worth- an old camel, experienced in the art of desert travel. But Laurence chose the third camel to be his companion on their journey.

“This camel’s father’s hair made a rug for my grandfather many years. If you make love on the rug, you forget about the price, do you know why?” asked the Moroccan camel salesman.

“Why?” replied Wallmart obediently.

“Because it is an aphrodisiac.”

Laurence eyed the camel wearily. The heat of the African sun had stolen Laurence and he had drifted into a lazily delirious mood, contemplating the adventure that lay before them.

The camel slowly turned his elegant neck to notice Laurence, with the same intelligence with which he endlessly seemed to stare into another abyss, that of the Sahara Desert. 

The three trooped through endless spectres of mountains, before finally arriving onto a great plain, extending farther than the mind can imagine. Settlements scattered the land like planes in the sky, sharing the same quality of being thoroughly destitute in their surroundings.

The sun burnt bright as a scorpion became entranced with the foot of the camel, which rested unwilling in the sun while the three took shade under a lonely tree. A figure rose from the desert, miraculously growing in stature as Laurence admired his existence.

The figure spoke: “I bring news from a far away land; it is required that you embark on a journey South, as this is where you will find you destiny.”

“But why should we risk our lives with that treacherous task for a completely hallucinatory outcome?” replied Wallmart, whose senses had remained peculiarly intact despite his hereditary nature.

Laurence answered this question with these words, only learning their truth as he spoke them: “Because only then will be learn why we came here, and why things are the way they are. Only then can we return to the North- our families, lives and beliefs. Without a revelation, I will not feel satisfied, and will not be able to return to my village with my head held high.”

The knowledge Laurence sought was dangerous, and a certain predecessor to madness, if one was not careful. This knowledge encompassed many of the key factors of wisdom; experience, understanding of the self and understanding of the struggle.

Not once did Laurence believe he would return home an idol, or a prophet of a new morality. Unlike the great philosophers who sought greater things, Laurence, Wallmart and their furry companion yearned only for salvation, from the claws of the world they had temporarily left behind.

Heaven rose from the desert, a sparkling ocean of emerald blue. The Gods drank their coffee, and slept in their thrones, many of whom had forgotten the struggle, or simply lost hope, while others tired emphatically in its maze.

Laurence crossed his arms sulkily, and shifted in his seat, straining to see more of the heaven that fell away beneath him. He thought of this as the last abyss, a place where man has yet to conquer, and which therefore remains unknown and other worldly.

The light shone above Wallmart, who used its magic to study the scripture he had obtained. Abruptly, silence fell between the friends. The whirr of the engine persisted as the lights in the cabin dimmed, leaving only the emergency exits visible.

The potential for discovery of a foreign land was peacefully receding as the tranquil darkness enveloped the aeroplane. Wallmart fell asleep, leaving Laurence to appreciate the Gods all around him and the Heaven which stretched endlessly beneath them. It was a short time before his thoughts drifted to other matters, and he too began to face the struggle once more.

Meanwhile, somewhere between two moons, the camel dropped his head to the sand.

THE END

Holland- Jam Club and Relentless on tour

On the 21-24th of March I accompanied Knights Academy from South London on a trip to Holland, where two separate creative groups from the school took part in a Dutch school talent show. One of the groups, Relentless, are a dance collective, and the other are a music group called Jam Club. Both groups comprised of ten kids, representing year groups 7-12, and I was fortunate enough to teach and lead the African drumming section of Jam Club.

We got the coach all the way to our destination, using the Dover-Calais crossing. Our residence for the three nights was a 13th century castle converted into a hostel in the town of Heemskerk, about half an hours drive outside Amsterdam. We spent the first day relaxing, getting settled in, and then in the evening we walked into town and bought pizza. We also managed to get some rehearsal time in, which was important because we woke up early on the second day to go into the Schoter School in Haarlem and prepare for the evenings concert.

Jamming on the ferry!

 The quality of performance in the school talent show was incredible, as was the logistics of the whole event over the two nights. The entire thing was filmed, with a live projection showing downstairs in the performers room. The winner, on both nights, was a duo made up of a couple who played Mercy by Duffy, with him on guitar and her on vocals. Although they were not mind blowing, they had an endearing quality and their chemistry was impressive.  

Jam Club, the group in which I lead a 5-person djembe section, performed as ‘special guests’ on both nights. We played a medley of Feeling Good, Hit the road Jack and I Gotta Feeling, which went down well with the 200 or so Dutch crowd.  On the second evening we opened our set with a full scale djembe jam, featuring some improvised dancing from the Knights students in the Relentless crew. It was a great success!

Jamming on stage!

The difference in culture between Holland and the UK was apparent to the kids and myself, perhaps most blatantly on our visit to Amsterdam as we walked through the Red-light district.  As well as their notoriously lenient and forward thinking approach to marijuana and prostitution, the Dutch also have some interesting contrasts to the UK in terms of education- for example all pupils in the school we visited paid €300 per year, and then €150 on top if they wanted to specialise in particular subjects. This system has strengths; however one major downside is that less than half the students in the school have the opportunity to partake in regular art lessons.

Arguably the best thing about the trip was the opportunity for international relationships (and romances!) as the kids from the Haberdasher Askes Knights Acedemy met their Dutch counterparts. The informal learning process undergone by all involved in inspirational school trips like this one is invaluable, and should not be underestimated or taken for granted. It was a pleasure to be a part of such the experience, and particularly interesting going on a school trip as a teacher rather than a pupil!

Whole crew in Amsterdam!

Confidence, culture and childcare

As well as bumping into Nick Clegg leaving the toilet on my first visit to the House of Commons, I also attended an eye-opening discussion about the role of women as leaders in Africa. The event was hosted by the Royal Africa Society, and was partly a build up to International Women’s Day on the 8^th March. I suppose growing up as a white male with good role models, it could be argued that I have never had to directly struggle against sexual inequality, but the fact of the matter is that it’s a major international issue, which transgresses borders and has a huge effect on different cultures worldwide. In this article I am going to outline some of the issues raised in the debate, and explore some implications and solutions, all in the context of women, politics and Africa as a whole.

Across the world, women are outnumbered by men in the area of politics, in some places to an extreme level. One speaker suggested that this may be due to a confidence issue within women themselves- they are reluctant to get involved in politics, seeing it as a man’s area, and are always “waiting to be asked”. They lack self-belief due to culturalisation, and are often ignorant to their rights and opportunities, and are therefore unable to take advantage of them. The confidence argument places the responsibility for change mainly with the women; however another speaker vehemently argued that the responsibility has to be with the men. This speaker expressed her growing reluctance to engage in debates about women with other women, and instead urged men to force change amongst themselves.

The dilemma of quotas in politics was also discussed fervently. Although they are essentially good instruments of change, because it means women are rapidly integrated into politics, they could also be seen as undemocratic, because they are not based on merit. By enforcing quotas for the representation of women in politics (the UN suggests women should make up 30% of a countries representation in government) you immediately compensate for historical gender inequality by allowing women into politics. However, as a speaker from the floor pointed out, representation doesn’t necessary equal influence, highlighting one flaw of such a simple solution. Nevertheless quotas, if not ideal, are an essential instrument of change.

Another unanimous agreement reached by all present was the emphasis that needs to be placed on women’s support groups- formal structures which encourage networking between women, and therefore a platform by which they can support one another and take collective action against gender inequality. It was concurred that organisations like this will help speed up the process of achieving gender equality, in the workplace and beyond. I also feel it is important to mention the emphasis placed on reforming local governments, particularly in places like Africa, if change is going to be long lasting- and the idea of concentrating resources to tackle gender inequality in the youth, rather than aiming to influence a much older (and possibly more stubborn) generation.

During the discussion I found myself considering the bigger issues at the heart of the gender inequality debate- violence against women being one of them. Culturally ingrained sexism another (something we experience in our day to day lives, even in the Western world). Although there was some emphasis placed on the improvements made worldwide over the last decade, the overall outlook appeared bleak to me, as the unjustness of gender inequality struck me in a way that it had never done before.