1st International Anthropology Conference of the Anthropology Association, Turkey Istanbul, May 25-27, 2007 Boundaries, Images, and

Cultures: Reconsidering Europe(anness) from Anthropological Perspective

Changing Europe, Changing Anthropology Ulf Hannerz

A rather intriguing compatriot of mine arrived in Istanbul from Sweden ninety years ago, in 1917, and remained in this city for most of the next fourteen years.1 Johannes Kolmodin, for that was his name, had entered adulthood as an active participant in conservative, nationalist, not particularly democratic Swedish student politics, but his interest in exotic languages soon took him to Ethiopia, for field studies in languages and oral traditions. He finished a doctorate as an Orientalist, held something we might now describe as a postdoc for some time, and then came here to do research in the Ottoman archives on that curious Swedish tragic hero-king, Charles XII, who after a disastrous battle against the Russians had had to seek refuge in the Ottoman Empire, some 300 years ago now. On the Istanbul scene, however, the life of the young scholar Kolmodin took yet another turn. As his academic funding was meagre, he attached himself to the Swedish Embassy, on what is now Istiklal Caddesi. And here gradually, and in large part informally, he built up a position as interpreter, advisor, intermediary, guide, and it would seem, allaround fixer. The Swedish ambassadors, of whom one followed the other, seem not to have quite known what to do with him, although they realized they could not do without him. Officially he was in the end listed as dragoman, the kind of interpreter-advisor, often of foreign or minority background, who had long played a strategically important role in Ottoman political and diplomatic life. But as that kind of public position had been in decline for some time, Johannes Kolmodin has also been described as the last dragoman. Whatever his title may have been, as he shifted his residence away from the diplomatic quarters of Pera to an apartment in the middle of the old town, where he ran something like an open house, he cultivated contacts with people of a variety of backgrounds, ethnic, national and religious, politicians as well as poets. Given the times in which he lived and the background he came from, it is noteworthy that he insisted that culture, not race, was the basis of the differences in human conduct he observed. As the last dragoman, it seems, Kolmodin became a kind of proto-anthropologist, urban ethnographer as well as political anthropologist, sympathetic observer of the early years of the Turkish republic. Johannes Kolmodins presence and preoccupations in Istanbul eighty or ninety years ago can serve to remind us of a number of things. Europes history is full of mobile lives and crisscrossing connections which link one end of the continent to the other whether one uses Kolmodins own trajectory or that of Charles XII, the Christian Protestant king seeking a haven in a Muslim empire, as an example. His varied engagements also cast light on Istanbul as a hub of history, a cultural crossroads, as it was then and is now. Moreover, we may discern that there are people who through the diversity of their interests and their sometimes unconventional approaches are apt to find themselves in somewhat ambiguous positions in any more obvious division of labor and knowledge whether they are dragomans in imperial administration or diplomacy, or anthropologists in contemporary Academia. My aim here is to point to certain major recent tendencies of change in Europe, and to raise some questions about their implications for the present and future of anthropology.

2 About Europe a great many things can surely be said, but I will concentrate on a couple of things: on the one hand, the diversification which comes with the mobility of people across boundaries, and on the other hand, those politics and policies which some have described as postmodern, and others as neoliberal, but which in any case involve more interconnectedness and unification. In the first half of the twentieth century in Europe the tendency was to create and guard nation-states as home turfs of homogenized populations with relatively unitary cultures. At times this could be accomplished through fairly benign nation-building activities in schools and media. Elsewhere, in the upheavals which followed the decline and fall of several empires Ottoman, Habsburg, German, Russian it could also take the form of widespread ethnic cleansing. In the second half, and in the twenty-first century so far, that trend has in large part been reversed, as large-scale migrations have created societies which are in one way or other inevitably multi-: multicultural, multiethnic, even multiracial. In part, this turnaround occurred as some other empires refused to go away, or rather stay away. In particular as the British and French empires were being dismantled, people from their far-flung component territories arrived in growing numbers at the doorstep of the supposed mother countries Britain and France in particular, but certainly the Netherlands, Belgium and Portugal as well. The arrival of the ship Empire Windrush at Tilbury outside London, on June 21, 1948, carrying the first major boatload of hopeful Jamaican migrants to Britain, could stand as an event symbolic of this change in the makeup of European society.2 Yet the new diversity in Europe also came about through migration within the continent, to begin with in large part from south to north, as Portuguese, Spaniards, Italians, Yugoslavs, Greeks and Turks at various stages went to work in those regions whose economies at the time were more expansive. In large part it was indeed a matter of labor migration, although it could have a component of political exile as well. And this was the more dominant factor in the trickle and occasional wave of people who moved from East to West, somehow finding a hole in that long-lasting fixture, the Iron Curtain. These streams of human mobility changed local communities, and also created new connections across Europe. For one thing, there were new linkages between your country and mine. We could learn, for example, that a good many of the Turkish labor migrants who established themselves in Stockholm suburbs came, by way of chain migration, from a small area around the town Kulu, in Anatolia between Ankara and Konya, and that the Syrian Orthodox Christians who left southeastern Turkey and adjacent parts of the Middle East in the 1970s established a strong community in the industrial town of Sdertlje, a little south of Stockholm.3 Moreover, to shift the focus to anthropology, these migrations and the attendant changes in the affected social milieux had consequences for the practice of the discipline. Until this period, perhaps between thirty and forty years ago now, probably most anthropologists at work in European field studies engaged with local, long-rooted rural communities, and with documenting forms of life being left behind by modernity. Now new possibilities opened up even obligations, as the emergent multiethnic, multicultural societies also appeared to generate new puzzles and problems. Expert insight into human diversity thus carried a strengthened sense of relevance, in societies which had become used to assuming or even celebrating uniformity. We can perhaps see at least three changes in anthropology following from this complex of experiences, in many European settings. One may be a shift in temporal emphasis, from a somewhat backward-looking view toward ways of life that were being lost, toward a more present-oriented concern with realities which were very much here and now. Another would be a change from rural to urban contexts of research. The classic, traditionally most legitimate field site for ethnographic work had been the village, but at least to the extent that the transnational migrants were studied at the place of arrival rather than at

3 the point of departure, one was now looking mostly at life in cities. (To a degree, the researcher might still have some inclination to look for the village in the city, but the practice of anthropology was changing nonetheless.) Thirdly, I believe the study of the new multicultural context, and the experience of migrants, led many anthropologists to an active inquiry into the workings of the modern state, something which had seldom been particularly prominent among their scholarly interests before. In much of Europe, migrants faced strong states which were both nation-states and welfare states, and which impinged on their everyday lives both intensively and mysteriously. Anthropologists, consequently, found that it was not sufficient, and perhaps not quite fair, to problematize only the exotic customs of the newcomers. A large part of their ethnography must deal with the offices, class rooms, courts and clinics, the institutions run by native bureaucrats, officials and specialists. I am not arguing that a shift in time perspective, and the interest in city life and the state, could not have come about in European anthropology in any other way, but I do think the research focus on migrant life and multicultural conditions had a wider influence on the discipline here. If it is now already fairly long ago that this mobility across borders began having its major impact on the shaping of European society, it has kept shifting in its pattern since then. Some erstwhile migrant groups have had several generations getting rooted. Meanwhile other newcomers have appeared on various local scenes. Since walls fell and the Iron Curtain was raised, and especially since the European Union expanded eastward to take in new member states, new paths of east-west migration have opened up which one might hardly have imagined a decade or two ago. A Dublin newspaper now has a weekly supplement in Polish for a new migrant audience. Yet it is also clear that much of the migration across borders results from poverty and upheavals elsewhere in the world. Over the last year or so, to take one example, Sweden has received a remarkable proportion of the refugees from the war in Iraq. At the southwestern outpost of what counts as Europe, we are also aware, boatloads of West Africans are arriving at the shores of the Canary Islands, if their small boats are not miserably lost at sea. On the whole it would appear that anthropologists in those parts of Europe where migrants have arrived have taken a favorable view of the continuing change of scenery, not merely for professional reasons of new research opportunities, bot on the basis of a more broadly cosmopolitan stance toward fellow human beings and cultural diversity. Even so, we have also recognized that local populations have not been uniformly welcoming to the alien newcomers, nor supportive of policies which allow migrants in, and extend to them a certain range of rights. Varieties of nativism and xenophobia have been recurrent phenomena in much of Europe in recent times, expressed in the most organized fashion by a certain number of political parties. An American anthropologist, Douglas Holmes (2000), was among the pioneers in the discipline in taking on this topic, but more recently we have seen an important book edited by Andre Gingrich of Vienna and Marcus Banks of Oxford, under the title Neonationalism in Europe and Beyond (2006), in which a number of European colleagues scrutinize such political tendencies. 4 A variety of factors can surely be understood to underlie the xenophobic sentiments and actions which occur in contemporary European life: some nostalgia for the more homogeneous cultural habitats of the past, some mundane everyday frictions, some simple misunderstandings. The ramifying effects of segregative and exclusionary practices in labor and housing markets are perhaps not yet fully or widely understood. Yet one must not disregard the fact that increasingly, anti-immigrant sentiments have tended to beome more narrowly and acutely focused as Islamophobia. The events in the United States of September 11, 2001 9-11 have surely had their consequences on this side of the Atlantic as well, but they have had their only slightly less spectacular counterparts in Europe in Madrid, in London. The crisis over the caricatures of the Prophet Muhammed,

4 published in a Danish newspaper a couple of years ago, had its varied manifestations in Europe as well as elsewhere in the world. 5 More locally, but recurrently, controversies over the integration of Islam in the fabric of European everyday life arise over such matters as the building of mosques and the wearing of veils. It is rather difficult to ascertain what place such controversies actually have in the personal, private lives of most Europeans, whether natives, migrants or descendants of migrants. Yet we cannot easily disregard the public imagery of conflict and suspicion which has established a foothold of sorts in journalism and the media, with the clash of civilizations as one foundational concept, and dystopic geocultural fictions such as Eurabia (Yeor 2005) and Londonistan (Phillips 2006) as further ingredients.6 Londonistan, obviously, is inspired by the fact that immigration to the United Kingdom from outside Europe has involved not only the Caribbeans who began arriving with the Empire Windrush, but in large part also people from South Asia. Eurabia suggests a continent overrun by migrants from the Middle East and North Africa, and becoming subservient to outside powers. And all this is suposedly occurring, as another writer of the same tendency has it, While Europe Slept (Bawer 2006). One might note, however, that much of this imagery seems originally to have an American rather than a European base. Bruce Bawer who sees Europe asleep while radical Islam destroys it from within is an expatriate New Yorker living in Oslo, and his book is published in the United States, as is also Bat Yeors Eurabia, by an Egyptian-born Jewish author in exile. And before that, of course, the clash of civilizations scenario of Samuel Huntington (1996), preoccupied with the difference between the West and the rest, and particularly with conflict between Islam and the West, is also an American product. That complicates the structure of debate, as one might see traces here both of of a domestic American culture war and an early twenty-first century rift between Europe and America. Let me use the latter point to shift the topic away from multicultural, mobile Europe, at least for the time being, and move toward my other main concern here. With all its internal diversity, and with all its past internal conflicts, Europe at times seems best able to claim a sense of shared overall identity when there is some major external contrast, even adversary, to take note of. Indeed Islam may have provided that contrast for the Christian continent during important periods in history, and we can sense that the effects of that have not entirely vanished yet. Since early in the twentieth century, however, America has offered another such contrast for many Europeans, complicatedly, in a somewhat on-and-off way. And in recent times, the Atlantic divide has been the subject of much more or less heated commentary, from both sides. To take one example, Robert Kagan (2003), political commentator with a past in the Reagan administration, drew much attention a few years ago with his polemical formulation that Americans are from Mars and Europeans from Venus they differ profoundly, he argued, in strategic cultures. Surely there have been particular issues, regimes and personalities involved in momentarily dramatizing the American-European divide.7 But some commentators suggest differences which are more durable and less superficial, and possibly their ideas about the big picture can sometimes take us a bit further in placing the contemporary peculiarities of Europe in a wider frame. While Kagans emphasis, as he speaks to us from Mars, is obviously on the conduct of foreign policy, what he says also has something in common with the global scenario offered by another observer, the British diplomat Robert Cooper. For some time described as Tony Blairs foreign policy guru, Cooper has also been centrally placed within the European Union political machinery in Brussels. And whether we view Europe from Stockholm or from Istanbul, we cannot ignore Brussels. The world of today, Robert Cooper suggests in his brief book The Breaking of Nations (2003), can be divided into three: not those we became used to in the Cold War period, but

5 what he terms the premodern, modern and postmodern worlds, coexisting in time and impinging on one another. The premodern world is that of chaos and failed states, that where warlords and drug barons rule. The modern world, mostly orderly, has the classical state system intact. On the whole, the United States would belong here. In the postmodern world, that state system is collapsing, although not into disorder as in the premodern world, but into greater order. Europe, especially, is well into it. It is a system for the mutual interference of states in each others affairs, building on surveillance and transparency. Within the wider interconnectedness, the distinction between foreign and domestic affairs breaks down. One can certainly quarrel with Coopers vocabulary. Even by the time his book appeared, he was having second thoughts himself about the choice of terms with which he had already gone public, especially about postmodern, as he recognized that it carries a lot of complicated baggage that I hardly understand (2003: 173). But let us note certain prominent features of what he finds characteristic of this part of the world, this phase of political development, and not least of the emerging European order: states submitting themselves to mutual interference, by way of transparency and surveillance. No doubt there is a particular historical resonance to such a major shift in Europe, aiming at getting away once and for all from the battlefields of the past. I would also note, however, that Coopers postmodernity seems to overlap rather significantly with what in other contexts is now described as neoliberalism. I tend myself to be suspicious of terms which come into fashion and where the border between analytical scrutiny and political clich threatens to become blurred and we have seen some of these terms. But I have become increasingly convinced that in the last couple of decades we have indeed seen the growth and spread of a major set of ideas and practices which tend to affect our lives and institutions in quite profound ways. I am inclined to think of it as a neoliberal culture complex, making its way across continents, yet like other culture complexes in history taking somewhat different shapes in different settings, as it interacts with what was already in place. A central assumption of neoliberalism is obviously that something called the market generally offers a superior model for organizing activities and social relationships. It is often assumed that the expansion of the market simply means the decline of the state as an organizing framework of social life. If there is something to that, it is certainly also true that the neoliberal order tends to refashion the state, in ways which do not necessarily involve a weakening it also develops its own new strong forms. In the market as well as in the state, we meet a set of recurrent keywords privatization, accountability, transparency, auditing, quality control, branding, ranking. These are not necessarily new concepts, but they tend to move into arenas where they were not much in evidence before. In Europe, a fair number of recent political shifts, crises and upsets seem linked in some way to the expansion of the European Union, and the growth of its machinery, in combination with more or less global neoliberal trends. But the social, cultural and political responses can be of many kinds, at various levels, revealing different conflicts and contradictions. Again, nations have been major building blocks of our social and cultural imagination for some time, and they retain a considerable power over our minds. Even among the personnel most directly involved in negotiating the European Union agenda of mutual transparent openness there can still be a jockeying for national advantage and honor. My Stockholm colleague Renita Thedvall, who has observed what she terms Eurocrats at Work (2006) in Brussels, could note that in the development of particular indicators to measure and compare the success of nations, national representatives could still be concerned with what Michael Herzfeld (1997) has described as cultural intimacy, with showing their own countries in the best possible light. No less significantly, there are the ways in which some sense of personal or community security seems to be disturbed by European integration and the neoliberal culture complex.

6 Relatively elaborated welfare states developed in much of the continent during earlier periods of the twentieth century, and we may sense that as a part of the everyday landscape they have to a degree merged with notions of nation-states. Often enough, too, Europeans identify their social model as something which distinguishes their societies from America. When that safety net begins to seem less ever-present, when stability of employment becomes less of a certainty, and where labor markets open up to include job seekers from elsewhere, the fear of decline may be expressed in a politics of resentment and pessimism. The work by Holmes and by Gingrich and Banks which I have referred to shows clearly enough that the assortment of political groupings which we tend to identify as xenophobic, anti-immigrant, are not only that, but frequently also reactions against further European integration and expansion. And if the electoral success of such groupings has so far been mostly relatively limited and unstable, one may guess that there are related symbolic statements of Europe fatigue when majorities in some countries reject a proposed European Union constitution. One may suspect that to a degree, immigrants and refugees are even becoming the convenient, ready-at-hand scapegoats for such sentiments. The European Union has itself developed as one focus of anthropological study in recent times, and this interest will no doubt continue. It seems to me, on the other hand, that an anthropology of the welfare state did not draw the amount of attention it might have in the twentieth century. Perhaps if that kind of social formation is no longer quite what it used to be, and if the owl of Minerva flies mostly at dusk, it will still come, in its new overall context. That new approach might then also attend to the emergent facts of cultural demography. As the native-born populations of many European states fail to reproduce themselves and grow older, their continued well-being can hardly be ensured without more immigrants. There seems to be a growing recognition of this likely future, but not much preparation for it. Anyhow, here I will turn for some final remarks to an anthropology even closer to ourselves, that of Academia, as affected by the neoliberal culture complex and European integration. I think it is clear that the interconnectedness of European anthropologies has intensified considerably in the last couple of decades. The development of the European Association of Social Anthropologists (EASA) has contributed importantly to this, since its founding in 1989. The kind of comparative research demonstrated by Gingrichs and Banks volume on neonationalisms can well find further inspiration in this growing interconnectedness. But the machinery of the European Union also influences our working practices in different ways. In the last couple of years, university staff in most of the continent has been kept busy hammering out the details of something called the Bologna Process, intended to make European university systems more comparable, more open to one another, more supportive of student and teacher mobility. While one may not approve of it in every detail, it includes inspiring possibilities. Recently my department in Stockholm has been engaged in setting up a new consortium for a joint masters degree, bringing together a half-dozen or so anthropology departments across the continent, with European Union support. We look forward to seeing the first cohort of its migrant students very soon. But then the changes in academic organization which the neoliberal culture complex also tends to bring, within national or European frameworks, have not always drawn favourable reactions. In European anthropology, one cluster of policy and practice included here has become known as audit culture (Shore and Wright 1999, Strathern 2000). In the interest of transparency and accountability, academic institutions are increasingly expected to report on their standards and achievements, and to be subjected to external evaluation, on a regular basis. As European universities are in large part state institutions, states of a neoliberal inclination can exercise a great deal of power over academic life by way of such procedures, and the European Union offers a framework within which the procedures can be diffused readily. Obviously we can hardly oppose ideas such as accountability and transparency in

7 principle. What has been questioned by some of the academics who have found themselves immersed in audit cultural process, however, is rather some of its actual outcome. In particular, British colleagues have criticized the ways the recurrent Research Assessment Exercise has led to an overload of administrative work, and to effects on research, publication and hiring practices which are hardly in the best interest of scholarship. To repeat, as the neoliberal culture complex moves around across borders, it may vary in its details, and adapt to different circumstances. In a debriefing session after one national evaluation exercise, when I mentioned to the director-general of the Swedish Board of Higher Education that the procedure had been rather less painful than I feared after having listened for years to the comments of British colleagues on their experiences, she replied that the first thing we decided was not to do it in the British way. Even so, neither techniques nor goals were probably so very different, and there are other ingredients in the emergent transnational academic audit culture which I think we as anthropologists have reason to take seriously. Let me take one example. Not so long ago, the rector of my university a thoroughly modern rector, with his own blog noted that his institution was doing reasonably well, but not, he thought, well enough in the international ranking of universities published by the Jiao Tong University of Shanghai.8 Aware of how such rankings are produced, he noted that his academic staff had better do more of its writing in English, rather than Swedish, so that its publications would count, and that it had better write journal articles, where citations would also count, rather than books. Certainly this was well intended, to increase by bibliometrics the collective honor of all of us at his university, but one might also se it as a kind of political meddling with research traditions and objectives in order to conform with a rather insensitive unidimensional scale of measurement. The point I want to make is that the academic neoliberal culture complex, inclined toward rankings and simple quantitative indices, is not likely to be very respectful toward pluralism in knowledge goals, approaches, or the identification of audiences. If anthropology has a classic tradition of monograph writing because it is frequently a superior way of writing comprehensive ethnography well, ditch it. Or those who hold power over academic work, and academic opportunities and resources, may view us as lightweights or saboteurs! As far as language is concerned, some of us, regardless of nationality, already do much of our writing in English, as the only fully functioning international language of scholarship. Nevertheless, the ivory tower remains a tower of Babel, and the optimal balance between our needs to communicate with colleagues abroad and with other audiences at home is not entirely easy to work out. There has probably been too little serious discussion in European anthropology yet about what we need to do, and how we can go about, preserving and enhancing the well-being of the discipline under those changes which now tend to spread through academic life across the continent. Joao de Pina-Cabral (2006), the Portuguese anthropologist, and a former EASA Chair whose concern for the future of anthropology is on a Europe-wide scale, has recently issued a call for debate over the present standing of anthropology in public life.The incident which provoked his statement was the danger, at one time imminent although in the end not materializing, that anthropology in France, one of the old heartlands of the discipline, would be downgraded to a status as a subdiscipline of history in the national structure of research funding. Pina-Cabrals conclusion is that the public image of the discipline is seriously out of date, and does not serve it well. The problem, it appears, is that the old primitivist understanding of anthropology, while no longer representative of what todays anthropologists are actually doing, continues to thrive in the general consciousness. We have not yet managed to replace it with any alternative image which is equally effective, and more valid.

8 I would not want to underestimate the complexity of this challenge. Anthropology is a multi-faceted, multi-dimensional endeavor. As I suggested when I began, anthropologists like dragomans may tend to fit only slightly uncomfortably into bureaucratic divisions of knowledge. But I fear we may shoot ourselves in the foot if we just insouciantly declare, in public places, that anthropology is whatever anthropologists do. This may be one context where we now had better adapt to the circumstances of the market, and realize that we need a more effectively defined brand, an identity which can be communicated in a single form to high school students, journalists, university rectors, or ministers of education all, one may suspect, people with a normally short attention span. Preferably such a brand, such an identity, would be inclusive, yet with some sense of priorities, and an idea of the big picture where it fits in. My own expectation would be that it would emphasize diversity, and connectedness. At the center of the anthropological endeavor might be the task, as the late Clifford Geertz (1988: 47) proposed almost twenty years ago, to enlarge the possibility of intelligible discourse between people quite different from one another in interest, outlook, wealth, and power, and yet contained in a world where, tumbled as they are into endless connection, it is increasingly difficult to get out of each others way. That task, as Geertz has it, grows out of the connectedness of the world, and we may see that it grows no less out of the interconnections of Europe. Perhaps it is still somewhat similar to the task of those indispensable dragomans in the past. In any case, it would seem to me that my Turkish anthropologist colleagues, from their particular location on the European map and on the world map, have some special opportunities to contribute to the endeavor.

9 Notes 1. I draw most of my knowledge of Kolmodins life from a memorial volume recently published by the Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul (zdalga 2006). I hope I get the nature of the dragomans position approximately right; my sketchy understanding of it draws on Lewis (2004), whose learning I admire even as I have my doubts about some of his judgments. From Istanbul, it should be added, Kolmodin moved again to Ethiopia, where he served as advisor to Emperor Haile Selassie, but after only a couple of years there he fell ill and died. 2. A popular book by Phillips and Phillips (1998), published at the fiftieth anniversary of the arrival of the Empire Windrush, describes the Caribbean and Black British experience since then. 3. Anthropological studies of Kulu migrants in Stockholm health care and educational institutions are by Sachs (1983) and Narrowe (1998) respectively. Bjrklund (1981) offers a view of the European dispersal of Syrian Orthodox migrants and the growth of their community in Sdertlje. 4. As I contributed an afterword to the volume I should admit that I am not entirely impartial here, but I do consider it an important book. 5. I understand that two anthropologists, Peter Hervik of Malm University, Sweden, and Mark Allan Peterson of Miami University, Ohio, USA, are at work editing a volume on the caricature crisis, with contributions by researchers well placed to observe its reverberations in different contexts around the world. 6. The British historian Niall Ferguson (2004b: 36, 2004c) academically active in the United States as well, and otherwise most prominent for his recent writings on empires and the recently deceased Italian journalist Oriana Fallaci (2004) have each played some part in publicizing the notion of Eurabia. It has apparently also been picked up not least by what I gather are right-wing web sites in the USA. By the summer of 2006, it was also the rubric of a cover story of The Economist, the newsweekly, with a British base but with a wide international circulation, and that may well be important in the further diffusion of the term. 7. Of course, we also know perfectly well that not all Americans are Martians. Even in an only slightly more subtle geocultural scenario, recent U.S. elections have dramatized a division between Red and Blue Americas which is surely relevant to the issue. And then looking closer at that, we learn that in terms of proportions of the vote, few of the states that are red or blue would ever be more than, let us say, two-thirds one or the other. 8. Rector Kre Bremers note on international ranking and publishing was posted on the Stockholm University website, www.su.se, on September 5, 2005. Stockholm University was ranked ninety-third in the world on the Jiao Tong list.

10 References Bawer, Bruce. 2006. While Europe Slept. New York: Doubleday. Bjrklund, Ulf. 1981. North to Another Country. Stockholm Studies in Social Anthropology, 9. Stockholm: Department of Social Anthropology, Stockholm University. Cooper, Robert. 2003. The Breaking of Nations. London: Atlantic Books. Economist, The. 2006. Tales from Eurabia. The Economist, June 24, p. 11. Fallaci, Oriana. 2004. The Force of Reason. New York: Rizzoli International. Ferguson, Niall. 2004a. A World without Power. Foreign Policy, 143: 32-39. _______. 2004b. Eurabia? New York Times, April 4. Gingrich, Andre, and Marcus Banks (eds.). 2006. Neo-nationalism in Europe and Beyond. Oxford: Berghahn. Herzfeld, Michael. 1997. Cultural Intimacy. London: Routledge. Holmes, Douglas R. 2000. Integral Europe. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Huntington, Samuel P. 1996. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York: Simon and Schuster. Kagan, Robert. 2003. Paradise and Power. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Lewis, Bernard. 2004. From Babel to Dragomans. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Narrowe, Judith. 1998. Under One Roof. Stockholm Studies in Social Anthropology, 43. Stockholm: Department of Social Anthropology, Stockholm University. zdalga, Elisabeth (ed.). The Last Dragoman. Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul. Phillips, Melanie. 2006. Londonistan. London: Gibson Square. Phillips, Mike, and Trevor Phillips. 1998. Windrush. London: HarperCollins. Pina-Cabral, Joao de. 2006. Anthropology Challenged: Notes for a Debate. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 12: 663-673. Sachs, Lisbeth. 1983. Evil Eye or Bacteria. Stockholm Studies in Social Anthropology, 12. Stockholm: Department of Social Anthropology, Stockholm University. Shore, Cris, and Susan Wright. 1999. Audit Culture and Anthropology: Neo-liberalism in British Higher Education. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 5: 557-575.

11 Strathern, Marilyn (ed.). 2000. Audit Cultures. London: Routledge. Thedvall, Renita, 2006. Eurocrats at Work. Stockholm Studies in Social Anthropology, 58. Stockholm: Department of Social Anthropology, Stockholm University. Yeor, Bat. 2005. Eurabia. Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press.