Interview with an Alum: George Lane

This is an interview I conducted last December for my university newspaper, The SOAS Spirit. 'Interview with an Alum' is a regular feature in the Spirit and for this issue I interviewed Doctor George Lane, a SOAS graduate at every level, who continues to work at SOAS teaching academic English and lecturing in the history department, as well as conducting research. 

Tell me about your life before SOAS/ what did you do before you started studying at SOAS?

I went to Afghanistan after I finished my A levels, and I never came back, essentially. I travelled around Afghanistan, Pakistan, Thailand, Lebanon and Iran for 20 odd years and I supported myself by teaching English. I qualified as an English language teacher whilst working for the British council in Lebanon. It wasn’t that I’d intended to be away for so long, things just happened- I got a job teaching English in Afghanistan, and the next thing I knew I’d signed a contract for two years. Then in Iran I got involved with the revolution that was going on there at the time. 

So how did you begin studying at SOAS? 

I heard about SOAS while I was travelling around the Middle East and it had that air about it, so I decided that if I was going to go to university, I wanted to go to SOAS. I began a BA in History and Persian, and I also got a job in the English unit teaching English to foreign students. It was a strange situation, because there were some students who I was in class with during the day, and then I was teaching them English in the evening. 

I wrote an essay during my BA which was transformed into my dissertation. The same essay then became an MA dissertation of 10,000 words, and that became a PhD dissertation of 100,000 words, all on the same subject!  This also became the subject of my first book.  I have worked at SOAS ever since, teaching the summer courses that foreign students take in academic English. I am also a senior teaching fellow in the history of the Middle East and Central Asia. 

Now this is your sabbatical year, what are your plans?

What I’m doing, is I’m catching up. I’ve got various projects on the run, so I’ve two trips to China planned, one trip to Jerusalem, one to Turkey, and possibly one to Central Asia.  What I’ve been working on is to show the closeness between medieval China and medieval Iran. I’ve discovered about 20 tombstones in Hangzhou in China and they’re all written in Persian, dating from about the 13 hundreds. They were dug up in the 1920s, and have been stored in a mosque since then. 

Originally the Imam of the mosque wouldn’t allow me to see them, but I persisted and persisted and eventually I was able to get in, but he still wouldn’t allow me to photograph them. So I had a cunning plan, and I went back during Friday prayers and took a photo of the Imam in his office. I then got the photos printed on A3, laminated and glossed them, and gave them to him as a gift. He was so chuffed, that he let me in, and I was the first person to properly take a photo of these tombstones. I was then given the job, by the communist party of Hangzhou of all people, to write up a book with the translation of these tombstones, and that’s the work I’m going to finish off this year. 

How has SOAS influenced your work/ research?

I didn’t know I was interested in history until I started my BA, and I’d never thought about the Mongols before- it was one of my teachers, David Morgan, who inspired me. For the last few I’ve been working to dispel some of the bad press that the Mongols get- Hulagu Khan, the so called butcher of Baghdad, that’s just rubbish! In fact it was the opposite, he civilised the place. And at SOAS you’re given a bit of credibility. It’s quite dramatic, because a lot of people don’t like what I’m saying, and as far they’re concerned he’s the devil incarnate. But the fact you’re from SOAS lends weight to anything you say.

SOAS is great because it’s internationally famous- the contacts I’ve made are amazing, people know you. Any book that comes out, I write to the publisher and ask to do a review, and when I say I’m from SOAS they send me a free copy. It’s very useful being at SOAS because it opens doors, it’s not quite Oxford and Cambridge but it’s getting there. Also the library’s one of the best in the world! 

 Finally, how do you hope your research will affect your teaching when you return?

The point about research is that the more you look into things, the more you realise you don’t yet know. In the class, you transmit your passion. You’re interested and the students feel that. 

Dr Lane working with the British Council and teaching English in Beirut. 

Sim-Simmel

Sim-Simmel, who's got the key to society? 

An unstable lock into a social reality 

Some say creation-at-the-moment-of-delivery 

His writing dissolves in the crucible of creativity

The man, a stranger in many ways

Understood the insight such a position would engage

But inevitably falling down into the pit of the common sage

The identity as elusive as the words on the page

Striving for a sociological view of phenomena

Is there any other way when you take history as the cusp

of understanding and an infinitely long road? 

Lets begin the process and let Simmel’s magic unfold

Conflict, subordination, solidarity and exclusiveness

Examples of the forms that the man himself imbued to us

Residing within them is the content that we consider thus

transforming the facts and reaching clarity amidst the fuss

Arguably here we reach an impasse on the road

as the distinction between general and formal sociology is showed

But the irreducible category of a unity is bestowed, 

upon us, by him, all adventurers on the road

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