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The Anthropology Undergraduate Journal : Vol. 1, issue 1 Morucci, Michele; Shaheen-McConnell, Theo Mar 31, 2012

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!!7+($17+5232/2*<81'(5*5$'8$7(-2851$/   Editors: Michele Morucci and Theo Shaheen-McConnell with the support of Nellissa Ling, Andrea Steigerwald, April Hung and Samara Mayer  By the Anthropology Student Association (ASA), of UBC. Prepared for the Undergraduate Anthropology Students and Faculty.                The full title of this journal is: The Undergraduate Student Journal, Volume I, Issue I.  The journal was printed on March 2012.          This work (UBC ASA Undergraduate Journal, by Brook McFarlane, Mikhail Elsay, Claire Mildenburger, Alexandra Tucker, Shan Siddiqui, Szymon Surma, Chelsea Ousey), identified by University of British Columbia Anthropology Student's Association, is free of known copyright restrictions.            !!7$%/(2)&217(176     ,QWURGXFWLRQ     Theo Shaheen-McConnell and  Michele Morucci«««««««««««««««««««««««««««««   0XOWLFXOWXUDOLVP&RQVLGHUHGChelsea Ousey«««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««2   &XOWXUHDQG&RPPRGLILFDWLRQMikhail Elsay«««««««««««««««««««««««««««...................15   7KH&RPPRGLWL]DWLRQRI.QRZOHGJHClare Mildenberger«««««««««««««««««««««««««««««26 /LQJXLVWLF9DULDELOLW\DVD0RGHRI$JHQF\Brook McFarlane««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««32  7KH'DUN6LGHRI$QWKURSRORJ\9DPSLUHVLQ3RSXODU&XOWXUHAlexandra Tucker««««««««««««««««««««««.............«.«41   3RO\QZDLDFXOWXUDOFODGH$Q$UFKHRORJLFDO$SSURDFKSzymon Surma««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««..53  )HUWLOLW\%HOLHIV$QFLHQW(J\SWDQG$EURDGShan Siddiqui««««««««««««««««««.........................66    !!! "! IN T R O DU C T I O N :HOFRPHWRWKH8QLYHUVLW\RI%ULWLVK&ROXPELD¶V$QWKURSRORJ\8QGHUJUDGXDWH-RXUQDOEURXJKWto you by the Anthropology Students Association (ASA).    This year we, the ASA, noticed the lack of opportunities for undergraduate anthropology students to get their work published and felt that it was our responsibility to provide such an outlet for students.  This journal recognizes and validates the hard work that has been put into the papers as well as the exceptional level of the student authors. The opportunity of writing for a journal is invaluable for students who are considering to enter graduate school.  With the publishing of the journal we intended to, at last, introduce a discourse of knowledge and writing in the undergraduate anthropology community.  Since none of us in the ASA had ever undertaken a project like this one, we pursued our goal step by step.  The calls for papers were put out through various forms of media, deadlines were made, submissions came in.  We also called for students to volunteer to participate in the editorial process, and a team of six editors identified the seven chosen papers. All this has worked smoothly, and has been a pleasure to undertake.  The papers were selected for the range of anthropological themes which include those of development, economic anthropology, linguistic anthropology, and the cross-cultural analysis of both the past and present. The majority of the papers published are of Cultural Anthropology, and this is solely due to the lack of Archaeology papers submitted, we hope that more of them will be submitted in the future years.  We hope you enjoy reading this collection of undergraduaWHZRUNVIURP8%&¶V'HSDUWPHQWRIAnthropology.  Thank you for your interest and for encouraging the continued development of undergraduate anthropology students at UBC.  Sincerely, Theo Shaheen-McConnell and Michele Morucci ! #! Multiculturalism Considered Chelsea Ousey   In mainstream Canadian society, multiculturalism is a concept held in high regard.  In 1971, Canada was the first country in the world to adopt multiculturalism as an official policy.  By doing so, Canada affirmed the value and dignity of all Canadian citizens, regardless of their racial or ethnic origins, their language, or their religious affiliation (Citizenship and Immigration Canada 2008).  As Terence Turner states, multiculturalism is primarily a movement to change from an exclusive to inclusive society; a conceptual framework for challenging the cultural hegemony of the dominant ethnic group by calling for equal recognition of the cultural expressions of non-hegemonic groups (1993:412). In theory, Canadian multiculturalism aims to respect all citizens and treat them as equals. However, multiculturalism in Canada encourages social isolation and self-segregation. These processes are visible in the expectations of LQWHJUDWLRQ WKH LQWHUSUHWDWLRQV RI FLWL]HQVKLS &DQDGD¶V HGXFDWLRQ LQVWLWXWions and concerns of language fluency for minorities.  Through an analysis of these aspects of Canadian society, state-sanctioned forms of regulation among minority groups illustrate the ways in which equality has a requirement of sameness in terms of language and culture.   For the Canadian government, the concept of multiculturalism provides a framework to envision a place for minorities within society (Duncan 2006:59).  For dominant groups it creates a set of expectations regarding physical place, sufficiency in language and adherence to cultural and societal norms.  For minority groups, multiculturalism offers the ability to retain much of their culture while simultaneously attaining status as a full member of the Canadian nation (Duncan 2006:59).  The goal of multiculturalism is to create an environment where minorities can feel at home living amongst the dominant society.  However, multiculturalism has the capability of creating imaginings of difference.  In self-proclaimed multicultural spaces, groups have the tendency to emphasize differences as exotic, primitive or foreign.  Canadian citizens PXVW UHFRJQL]H WKDW DQ DWWHPSW WR ORFDWH DQG GHILQH SHRSOH GLIIHUHQW IURP ³RXUVHOYHV´ LV! $!detrimental to harmonious, multicultural living (Michaelsen 1999:IX).  Instead Canadians must consider multiculturalism as a learning tool that shows individuals a variety of ways to use knowledge to understand ideas and events (Trotman 2002:IX).   Multiculturalism and Integration  Multiculturalism, regardless of location, requires some form of integration for minority individuals into the dominant society.   It is important to consider how involved the state should be in this process of integration.  Should language lessons and access to employment resources be freely available to minorities?  Canada has taken a great effort to create the right conditions for minority groups to integrate into the dominant society (Lewis 2006:12) with programs such DV ³(QKDQFHG /DQJXDJH 7UDLQLQJ´ ³'HVLJQDWHG 0HGLFDO 3UDFWLWLRQHUV´ DQG ³&RPPXQLty 3DUWQHUV´ &LWL]HQVKLS DQG ,PPLJUDWLRQ   5HJDUGOHVV +RZDUG 'XQFDQ LV FULWLFDO RICanadian multiculturalism.  He asserts that multiculturalism has been the dominant conceptual framework for integration and has failed to deliver a genuinely inclusive society (Duncan 2006:14).  Rather than mixed societies, multiculturalism invents culture in such a way that the colour line is re-imagined on all sides and re-embodied (Michaelsen 1999:XVII).  It has failed to create an environment where Canadian citizens can accept and overlook cultural differences, but instead prompts citizens to constantly renegotiate and imagine differences in new ways.   Between the Canadian government and public there is a great discrepancy regarding what multiculturalism is and whDW LW VKRXOG ORRN OLNH  &DQDGD¶V PXOWLFXOWXUDOLVP LV D policy, not necessarily the general sentiment of the dominant society.  Often, when the academic community and civil society speak of the integration of immigrants, they are speaking of a desired social condition (Duncan 2006:52).  Howard Duncan and Robert Lewis argue that multiculturalism has failed miserably as a political framework for integration because rather than bringing immigrants into a society as full participating members, it has encouraged a form of self-segregation that highlights differences and exacerbates tensions between groups (Duncan 2006:60, Lewis 2006:11).  Many individuals belonging to the dominant society have only recently begun to accept that minority groups may not desire full integration into the dominant society.  A multi-ethnic, multi-linguistic and multicultural community within Canada may be a relatively ! %!permanent feature of contemporary life (Duncan 2006:55).  During a UBC recruitment trip in British Columbia, I found myself in a conversation with the father of a prospective student.  The UHFUXLWPHQWSUHVHQWDWLRQLQFOXGHVDVKRUWGLVFXVVLRQRI8%&¶VDERULJLQDOHQJDJHPHQWZKHUHLWLVmentioned that both of our campuses are located on traditional First Nations territories.  This SDUWLFXODUPDQZDVRIIHQGHGWKDW³,QGLDQVDUHVWLOO WU\LQJWRFODLPHYHU\WKLQJ´EHFDXVHKHZDVVXUHWKDW³8%&2NDQDJDQLVQRWORFDWHGRQ,QGLDQWHUULWRU\LWVULJKWQH[WWRWKHGDPQDLUSRUW´This man is uncomfortable with aboriginal communities making rightful claims to lands he believes are not theirs.  The solution for him would be the dissolution of politically involved DERULJLQDO FRPPXQLWLHV )RU PDQ\ WKLV LV VWLOO WKH ³ZKLWH FRXQWU\´ WKDW -RKQ $ 0DFGRQDOGSURFODLPHG ZLWK FRQIHGHUDWLRQ¶V LPPLJUation policy, which continued to exist until the Diefenbaker government of 1962.  For this man and other like-minded individuals, assimilation into the dominant society still represents the ideal for integration outcomes (Duncan 2006:55).  Under these terms of an intolerant society, Canadian multiculturalism is critiqued.  While concepts of race, class, gender and ethnicity are driving themes of a multicultural approach to promote the respect and dignity of all minorities (Trotman 2002:IX) dominant societies operate with coercive ideologies designed to force all their citizens into a single homogenous national community.  In this community, equality requires uniformity of language and culture (Rosaldo 1994:239).    Integration is usually discussed in a framework regarding the subsequent steps after one has attained citizenship to a new country.  Often, there is a concern regarding language proficiency, employment and other aspects which allow one to become a contributing member of society.  Duncan argues that integration is not simply a matter of people of different ethnic, racial and religious groups living in the same neighbourhoods, attending the same schools and being able to use the same public facilities, but integration speaks to a sense of belonging that is shared by both the minority and the dominant societies (Duncan 2006:52-53).  In order for multiculturalism to be successful, it is absolutely required that dominant society actively participates in fostering a community in which minorities can too belong.  As citizens, we must EHFULWLFDO RI&DQDGD¶VPXOWLFXOWXUDOLVW FODLPVDQGFRQVLGHUZKDW WKHGRPLQDQW VRFLHW\ H[SHFWVIURP&DQDGD¶VPLQRULWLHV  ! &!Citizenship Constructed  Citizenship is a legal term used to define who belongs to a nation and who does not.  While citizenship is perceived as strictly legal, it is also constructed and interpreted by minority and dominant groups.  Renato Rosaldo considers categories that are visibly inscribed on the body, such as gender and race and their consequences for full democratic participation within a nation (1999:29).  Canadian citizens often expect that immigrants become active, contributing members of the community.  Critics of multiculturalism, like Rosaldo, argue that all citizens are declared equal, implicitly assuming that the condition of their equality is their sameness in UHODWLRQ WR ODQJXDJH DQG FXOWXUH 5RVDOGR   &DQDGD¶V GRPLQDQW VRFLHW\ H[SHFWVminorities to be proficient in English or French and adhere to cultural and societal norms.  The state has imposed a common culture based around shared values and common life-ways which includes citizens of dominant groups, and simultaneously excludes citizens of minority groups (Rosaldo 1994:240).     Benedict Anderson recognized citizenship and nationhood as constructed.  As Rosaldo asserts, Anderson took a social formation that was consistently in a naturalized realm of common sense, such as xenophobia, to that of the culturally constructed (Rosaldo 1994:244).  Cultural constructions of citizenship and nationhood function to fully enfranchise certain individuals and simultaneously disenfranchise others.  It presents full citizens as cultivated and second class citizens as ethnic and different from the dominant norms of the national community (Rosaldo 1994:250).  Rosaldo argues that the more empowered a group the less cultural it is. and the more cultural the group the less powerful it is, at least in terms of the entitlements of full citizens (1994:250).  For example, Carmen Lambert writes in her evaluation of aboriginal identity in a &DQDGLDQ XUEDQ FRQWH[W WKDW DERULJLQDO SHRSOHV¶ DLP LV QRW FODVV-linked, status-seeking competition, but cultural and community survival as an end in itself (1986:22).  While one may consider this text out-dated, the struggle of aboriginal peoples in Canada to retain their identities, cultural practices and achieve full democratic participation still remains. While Canadian multiculturalism desires all citizens to be equal before the law, culture informs citizenship in such a way that while an individual may have legal citizenship, they may not be accepted by the dominant society as a citizen.  If a citizen fails to fulfil the norms of the national community in ! '!Canada in terms of race, culture, religion, ethnicity, gender or sexual orientation, they will likely experience unequal opportunities and marginalization.  Cultural Citizenship In multiple works Rosaldo explores the concept of cultural citizenship (1994, 1999a, E+HDUJXHVWKDWFXOWXUDOFLWL]HQVKLSLVDQR[\PRURQZKLFKUHIHUVWRDQLQGLYLGXDO¶VULJKWto be different and to belong to the nation.  It claims that in a democracy, social justice calls for equity among all citizens regardless of differences, such as race, religion, class or gender, which could be used to make certain people inferior to others (Rosaldo 1994:240).  Multiculturalism makes these same claims: to be the non-hierarchical celebration of diversity (Husband 2002:18).  As citizens we must be cautious in accepting claims of cultural citizenship and multiculturalism which assume that one can be different from those in the dominant society and a full citizen at the same time.  Cultural citizenship, like multiculturalism, operates in an uneven field of structural inequalities where the dominant claims of universal citizenship assume a propertied white male subject who is typically blind to exclusions and marginalizations of people who differ in gender, race, sexuality and age (Rosaldo 1999:37).  Can minority groups have a place in national communities?  Can minorities retain their cultural identities and still belong as full members to a society?  To answer these questions, we must consider how minority ethnic groups navigate between local identities and participation in the state.  Most commonly such matters are negotiated around issues of education, wage labour, health care, language, and the right to vote.  The expectations differ for the dominant society and the government - this is where negotiations RFFXU7KHFRQWH[WIRUFDPSDLJQVVXFKDV³6WROHQ6LVWHUV´³1DWLRQDO'D\RI5HPHPEUDQFHDQG$FWLRQ RQ 9LROHQFH $JDLQVW :RPHQ´ DQG WKH 1LVJD¶D /DQG &RPPLWWHH DUH H[DPSOHV RIcontradictions between official state ideals of equal citizenship for all and enforced sameness of identity in the national community, as well as state-sanctioned forms of subordination based on class, race and gender (Rosaldo 1994:239).  Movements such as these are efforts to reforge the national community in ways that allow for the mutual recognition of socially significant differences, without losing sight of equality and social justice (Rosaldo 1994:240).  The ideas of cultural citizenship and multiculturalism, much like the aim of these movements, are rooted in WKHLGHDWKDWWKHGRPLQDQWJURXSPXVWQRWLQIRUPDQRWKHUJURXS¶VQRWLRQRIGLJQLW\WKULYLQJDQGwell-being (Rosaldo 1994:410).  In order for multiculturalism and cultural citizenship to be ! (!successful, the dominant and minority groups must participate in a greater inclusion in national communities that emerges from diversity, instead of enforced and regulated homogeneity.   Education as a form of Exclusion  Education systems within Canada intentionally avoid curriculums that include its histories of marginalization and subordination.  The Canadian Pacific Railway was built under incredibly exploitative terms that recruited Chinese immigrants, encouraging them to separate from their families to work under terribly harsh conditions.  First Nations, Inuit and Métis histories are rarely discussed at any depth in Canadian history textbooks beyond the fur trade and WKHHVWDEOLVKPHQWRIWKH+XGVRQ¶V%D\&RPSDQ\5RValdo asserts  Native Americans can only wonder about whether or not they have any place at all in schoolbook histories of a nation of immigrants; African Americans may well ask who booked their passage before they set sail across the Atlantic;  Asian Americans say theirs is a story of eastward, not westward movement.  The national community, as represented in conventional elementary and high school history textbooks, overlooks more Californians than it includes (1994:242)  While Rosaldo is making this point in the United States, a similar process of re-imagining history KDV DQG FRQWLQXHV WR RFFXU LQ &DQDGD  7KH QRWRULRXV ³&XOWXUH:DUV´ LV DQ H[DPSOH RI WKLVprocess occurring in higher education.  Stanford University in California suggested that all students VKRXOG KDYH WR WDNH ³:HVWHUQ &LYLOL]DWLRQ´ LQ RUGHU WR OHDUQ DERXW ³RXU KHULWDJH´5RVDOGRH[SODLQVZKHQWKHVWXGHQWVDQGWHDFKHUVKHDUGWKHSKUDVH³RXUKHULWDJH´WKH\KDGWRDVN³ZKR¶VWKHZH"´7KHFRXUVHZDVLQWHQGHGWREHLPSRUWDQWWRDOOAmerican citizens because it was the history of the supposed founders of America ± or at least white America.  However, within the required reading list there were no female or non-white authors.  Perhaps this illustrates who is valued within American society.   In grade eleven Social Studies of 2005, which aims to teach students about Canadian heritage, the expected learning outcomes included: an assessment of the development and impact of Canadian social policies and programs related to immigration, the welfare state, and minority rights [...] and the ability to demonstrate knowledge of the challenges faced by Aboriginal people in ! )!Canada during the 20th century and their responses to residential schools, reserves, self-government and treaty negotiations (British Columbia Curriculum Subject Areas: Social Studies 11 2005).    In the grade twelve History curriculums of 2006 the prescribed learning outcome regarding colonialism was to  describe the relationship between colonial rule and emerging nationalism in Palestine and India  and the post-1945 decolonization of India and Indochina (British Columbia Curriculum Subject Areas: History 12 2006).    While this appears to be fairly representative in terms of material for these courses, students were taught that reserves were pieces of land that the federal government gave aboriginal peoples to build communities on, and that residential schools were a boarding school for aboriginal students to learn about being a Christian.  The horror of colonization within and outside of Canada was entirely avoided.  Canadian classrooms are filled with students from numerous ethnic backgrounds.  Rosaldo argues that this lack of accurate representation of history within the institution of education embarks on a systematic process of assimilation within the classroom (1994:239).  It reinforces historic racisms to recreate inaccurate imaginings of what Canada as a ³PXOWLFXOWXUDO´ QDWLRQ VKRXOG ORRN OLNH  &RQFHUQ VXUUounding issues in education institutions grows out of parallels with issues of diversity and inclusion that pervade the renegotiation of our national contract (Rosaldo 1994:404).  The inequalities in a supposedly multicultural society are mirrored within our education system.  This re-inscribes and reinforces inequalities, allowing them to morph into new oppressive systems to be interpreted by each successive generation.     Education institutions in Canada need to create a more inclusive and accurate history of Canadian heritage to be taught to successive generations.  As an active participant in re-writing a more accurate Canadian history, educators refuse to place students in the position of looking into the curricular mirror and seeing nothing (Rosaldo 1994:406).  This would represent more students within the classroom, allowing them to see the world from the perspective of many cultures and histories, which creates a better understanding of the past and present world (Trotman 2002:IX).   However, alongside a new curriculum including other perspectives and ! *!histories, students must be taught to listen with care to their peers who speak from differing social positions (Rosaldo 1994:407).  If future generations are taught in such a way to care about the inclusion of all citizens within Canada, this would eventually become the general sentiment of the Canadian population.   Standards of Language Proficiency  /HDUQLQJDQDWLRQ¶VODQJXDJHRUSHUKDSVODQJXDJHVLVDQHFHVVDU\DVSHFWRILQWHJUDWLRQLewis argues that in order to become a productive member of society and ultimately a citizen, learning the local language and finding work are the first and most important steps to being LQWHJUDWHG   +RZHYHU WKH WHUP ³SURGXFWLYH PHPEHU RI VRFLHW\´ LV VXEMHFWLve and LQWHUSUHWLYH  7KH SDVW WZR VXPPHUV , ZRUNHG DV DQ DVVLVWDQW VXSHUYLVRU IRU 8%&¶V 6WXGHQWHousing and Hospitality Services in the housekeeping department.  In the hostel where I worked, the permanent staff consisted almost entirely of immigrants.  The temporary staff consisted of UBC students with mixed ethnic backgrounds, citizens and non-citizens.  The temporary staff ZRXOGRIWHQFRPSODLQDERXWWKHSHUPDQHQWVWDII¶V³LQDELOLW\WRFRPPXQLFDWHHIIHFWLYHO\´RIWHQVD\LQJ ³WKH\ VKRXOG OHDUQ WKH ODQJXDJH´  7KH SHUPDQHQW VWDII KDG OHDUQW (QJOLVK HQRXJK WRcommunicate for this job, or they would have not been hired.  However, the temporary staff (whose first language was always English) would argue that they had not learned the language.  Thus are they not productive members of society?  This again, is where the discrepancy between &DQDGD¶VPXOWLFXOWXUDOLVPSROLF\DQGWKHJHQHUDOVHQWLPHQWRI&DQDGLDQFLWL]HQVH[LVWV5RVDOGRargues that this tension exists due to national (linguistic and ethnic) diversity within the state as a threat, because it challenges the normative order that posited uniformity among the citizenry in the name of coercive congruence between that nation and state (1994:250).  I argue alongside Aristide Zolberg that:  It is vital to keep prominently in mind that the integration of immigrants is a two-way process, involving the adjustments by the receiving society as well as by the immigrants themselves. The central issue is to establish a reasonable and just balance in this process. For example, given human capacity for language learning it is quite reasonable to expect newcomers to acquire at least a rudimentary knowledge RI WKH KRVW FRXQWU\¶V ODQJXDJHV DSSURSULDWH WR WKHLU HPSOR\PHQW OHYHO %XW LW LV! "+!equally incumbent upon the hosts to provide appropriate language-learning facilities...(2006:29).   In Canada, language training is offered as an encouragement for immigrants for their benefit. However, is not required as a condition of continued residence, although language proficiency is a requirement of attaining citizenship (Duncan 2006:55). If an immigrant was able to communicate effectively enough to attain Canadian citizenship, why is it then that Canadian citizens who have English or French as their first language still seem aggravated by an  LPPLJUDQW¶V VXSSRVHG ODFN RI FRPPXQLFDELOLW\" :KLOH IUHH ³(QJOLVK /DQJXDJH 6HUYLFHV IRU$GXOWV´ DUH VSRQVRUHG WKURXJK IXQGLQJE\ WKH IHGHUDO DQGSURYLQFLDO JRYHUQPHQWV WKH FODVVHVRQO\DOORZLPPLJUDQWVWROHDUQ(QJOLVKIRU³Gay-to-GD\OLIH´:HOFRPH%&,PPLJUDWLRQ7KH SURJUDP¶V JRDO LW QRW WR KHOS LPPLJUDQWV DWWDLQ IOXHQF\ 7KXV FRQVLVWHQF\ IRU WKHH[SHFWDWLRQV RI DQ LPPLJUDQW¶V ODQJXDJH SURILFLHQF\ QHHGV WR EH HVWDEOLVKHG EHWZHHQ WKHCanadian government and Canadian citizens who have English or French as their first language.   Multiculturalism and a Sense of Belongingness Robert Lewis notes that multiculturalism is now coming under scrutiny for its failure to deliver the genuinely inclusive society (Lewis 2006:15-16) that multiculturalism and cultural citizenship suggest.  Perhaps this is where my discomfort with Canadian multiculturalism stems from; the failure of integration to create an inclusive, cooperative society which goes beyond apathetic social interaction between minority and dominant groups.  It is the state of belonging proposed by Duncan that integration often forgets.  Michael Ignatieff discusses the notion of EHORQJLQJWRDVRFLHW\DV³:KHUH\RXEHORQJLVZKHUH\RXDUHVDIHDQGZKHUH\RXDUHLVZKHUH \RX EHORQJ´ /HZLV   ,Q RUGHU IRU PXOWLFXOWXUDOLVP WR EH VXFFHVVIXO LQ &DQDGD Dsentiment of belonging and safety are necessary for the minority. Rosaldo describes the notion of belonging as having full membership in a group and the ability to LQIOXHQFH RQH¶V GHVWLQ\ E\having a significant voice in basic decisions (1994:402).  Integration is also strongly supported from the point of view of enhancing social cohesion and harmony, national and regional economic well-being and cultural life (Duncan 2006:55).  Multiculturalism offers the idea that one can retain most of their homeland culture and become a member of another nation.  ! ""!Essentially, it aims to create an environment within which immigrants and minorities can feel at home.  So the critical mind must ask: has Canadian multiculturalism achieved this?    Even in Canada, the concept of multiculturalism is criticized for encouraging cultural isolation instead of harmony (Duncan 2006:61, Lewis 2006:11, Turner 1993:414).  Those who are culturally isolated, sometimes referred to as second class citizens, may speak about feeling unsafe, violated, humiliated and invisible compared to their counterpart first class citizens who more often experience communities of well-being, thriving, dignity and respect (Rosaldo 1994:402).  The book Multiculturalism Observed looks at the difficulties encountered by migrants both in their own milieu and in relation to the host society (Lewis 2006:11).  Howard Duncan, Robert Lewis, and many other multiculturalism critics suggest a rival concept of interculturalism which:  encourages not only the maintenance of cultural identity but a strong effort to have these identities mutually understood, valued, and shared and which emphasizes cross-cultural cooperation towards shared goals. Instead of encouraging cultural isolation through the retention of homeland identities, we should be encouraging interaction between groups in a civic arena.  In this way, integration would result from the co-operative action between the minorities and mainstream that an interculturalism policy would promote or facilitate. In this case, the critics argue not that multiculturalism is fundamentally misguided but that it is accomplished only half of the job that integration requires (Duncan 2006:61).   0HUHO\ WROHUDWLQJ HDFK RWKHU¶V FXOWXUDO UHOLJLRXV HWKQLF RU OLQJXLVWLF SUDFWLFHV LV QR ORQJHUDFFHSWDEOH &DQDGD¶VPXOWLFXOWXUDOLVPQHHGV WRPRYH WRZDUGVDFFHSWDQFH DQG UHVSHFW RI HDFKRWKHU¶V GLIIHUHQFHV  ,Q WKH VXFFHVV RI WKLVPRYHPHQW FLWL]HQV can only profit from a cultural richness within the nation.  Multiculturalism is interpreted and understood in different ways by the government, dominant and minority groups.  Due to this discrepancy in the understanding of multiculturalism, multicultural spaces are often an arena where differences become overemphasized.  This attempt WRµORFDWH¶DQGµGHILQH¶SHRSOHGLIIHUHQWIURPµXV¶KDVOHDGWRPXOWLFXOWXUDOLVP¶VIDLOXUHWRFUHDWHa genuinely inclusive society.  Instead, multiculturalism creates culture in a way that differences ! "#!are re-imagined.  Citizenship is not a strictly legal term and is interpreted by differences visibly LQVFULEHGRQWKHERG\)RUH[DPSOHWKHWHQGHQF\WRK\SKHQDWHRQH¶VLGHQWLW\³VKHLV&KLQHVH-&DQDGLDQ´,IFLWL]HQVIDLOWRIulfill norms of the dominant society, they will likely be rejected as D³IXOOFLWL]HQ´7KRVHEHORQJLQJWRWKHGRPLQDQWVRFLHW\RIWHQIHDURUUHMHFWGLIIHUHQFHVEHWZHHQminority and dominant groups.  For these people, assimilation into the dominant society is still the ideal outcome.  Minority groups have responded by making a political stance against enforced sameness of identity within a national community. Equality should not require uniformity.  Education institutions in Canada participate in a process of assimilation within the FODVVURRP E\ DYRLGLQJ &DQDGD¶V KLVWRULHV RI PDUJLQDOL]DWLRQ DQG H[FOXGLQJ VWXGHQWV RI QRQ-white backgrounds.  Further, citizens who have English or French as their first language often desire assimilation for citizens who are leDUQLQJWKHQDWLRQ¶VODQJXDJHV&DQDGLDQFLWL]HQVQHHGto recognize that if one has learnt English or French to a level that allows them to obtain employment, then they are a contributing member of Canadian society.  A greater understanding between the government, dominant and minority groups must be facilitated in order to have a cohesive and unified idea of multiculturalism.  Through this process we may move from a society that merely tolerates each other, to a society built on acceptance and respect of each RWKHU¶VFXOWXUDO UHOLJLRXVHWKQLFRU OLQJXLVWLFYDOXHV 7KHDFWLYHSDUWLFLSDWLRQRIDOOSDUWLHV LQfostering a community, in which minorities can too belong, is a necessary aspect for the success of multiculturalism.  References  British Columbia: The Best Place on Earth 2010[2006] Curriculum Subject Areas: History 12., accessed    December 1, 2010.   British Columbia: The Best Place on Earth 2010[2005] Curriculum Subject Areas: Social Studies 11., accessed    November 30, 2010.   British Columbia: The Best Place on Earth 2010[2010] Welcome BC: Immigration, Settle in BC, Learn English., accessed November 30, 2010.   Citizenship and Immigration Canada. ! "$!2010 Canadian Multiculturalism: An Inclusive Citizenship. November 10, 2010.  Citizenship and Immigration Canada. 2010[2009]Service Providers., accessed November 30, 2010.  Duncan, Howard.  2006 Immigration Integration and Social Capital. In Multiculturalism Observed: Exploring Identity. Robert Lewis, ed. Pp. 49-70. Brussels: Brussels University Press.   Husband, Julie. 2002 Frederick Douglass's American "We". In Multiculturalism: Roots and Realities. C. James Trotman, ed. Pp. 17-29. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.   Lambert, Carmen. 1986 Aboriginal Ethnicity in a Canadian Urban Context. In Ethnicity and Multiculturalism in Canada: An Anthropological Study. Tsuneo Ayabe, ed. Pp. 3-32. Ibaraki: The University of Tsukuba.   Lewis, Robert, ed.  2006 Introduction: Reflections on Multiculturalism. In Multiculturalism Observed: Exploring Identity. Pp. 7-20. Brussels: Brussels University Press.   Michaelsen, Scott. 1999 The Limits of Multiculturalism: Interrogating the Origins of American Anthropology. Minneapolis, London: University of Minnesota Press.  Rosaldo, Renato. 1994 Cultural Citizenship and Education Democracy. Cultural Anthropology 9(3):402-411.  Rosaldo, Renato. 1999 Cultural Citizenship, Inequality, and Multiculturalism. In Race, identity, and citizenship: a reader. Rodolfo D. Torres, Louis F. Mirón and Jonathan Xavier Inda, ed. Pp. 27-38. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.   Rosaldo, Renato. 1994 Social justice and the crisis of national communities. In Colonial Discourse/Postcolonial Theory. Frances Barker, Peter Hurric and Margaret Iverson, ed. Pp. 239-252. Manchester: Manchester University Press.   Turner, Terence.  1993 Anthropology and Multiculturalism: What is Anthropology That Multiculturalists Should Be Mindful of It? Cultural Anthropology 8(4):411-429.  ! "%!Trotman, C. James, ed.  2002 Introduction. In Multiculturalism: Roots and Realities. Pp. IX-XVII. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.   Zolberg, Aristide.  2006 The Changing Nature of Migration in the 21st Century: Implications for Integration  Strategies. In Multiculturalism Observed: Exploring Identity. Robert Lewis, ed. Pp. 21- 29. Brussels: Brussels University Press.                            ! "&! Culture and Commodification: The E ffects of Capitalism On Cultural Identity Mikhail E lsay   Introduction In recent years there has been an explosion of anthropological writings related to capitalism, FRPPRGLILFDWLRQDQGWKHHIIHFWRIWKHVHRQFXOWXUH$V+DQQDQG+DUWSXWLWVLQFHWKH¶VLWseems that we are living in one world unified by capitalism where the rich consume and the poor produce (Hann and Hart 2011: 142). Economic anthropology provides a new approach to DQDO\VLQJHFRQRPLFVWKDWKHOSVSURYLGHDFOHDUHUXQGHUVWDQGLQJRIFDSLWDOLVP¶VDIIHFWRQFXOWXUHWhat this paper aims to do is help develop an understanding of capitalism and commodification by relating it to football (soccer) fan culture in Europe and Brazil to see how these economic factors are produced, lived and understood by fans in these areas. Despite living in North America, I will refer to soccer as football throughout the paper since this is how the ethnographers and fans understand the game in Europe and South America. Several scholars have produced wonderful ethnographies that highlight how fans interact with the commodification of their respective clubs (Giulianotti 2005; Dubal 2010) and I will draw on their research to gain an insight into how football clubs shape cultural identity and how the effects of capitalism have changed football supporters into football consumers. Before I look at the case studies, I will analyse how anthropology understands capitalism, commodity fetishism and consumerism from a theoretical level to provide a base on which to work with. Economic anthropology is a fairly new discipline and because of this, the theories on capitalism and commodity fetishism are still being figured out by scholars. Football fandom illustrates the fact that the study of capitalism and commodification needs to be less universal, with more of a focus on the nuanced complexities of different cultural values.  The Theory of Capitalism  ! "'!&DSLWDOLVPHQWHUHGRXUYHUQDFXODULQWKH¶VDQGLVERWKDGHVFULSWLRQDQGDQH[SODQDWLRQIRUWKH³KHFWLFPDUFKIURPYLOODJHWRFLW\WRDZRUOGHFRQRP\´+DQQDQG+DUW$NH\player in early discussions of capitalism was Karl Marx. He looked at capitalism as a modern ZD\RIPDNLQJPRQH\WKURXJKH[FKDQJHVLQODERXUDQGFDSLWDODQGEHOLHYHGWKDW³WKHRZQHUVKLSRIPHDQVRISURGXFWLRQ´ZDVLPSRUWDQW+DQQDQG+DUW2ZQHUVKLSLVLPSRrtant for capitalism because it allows for accumulation of capital, which in turn is used to create more profit. For Marx, an alienation from the means of production creates a disconnect where people cannot see or do not care about the origins or social conditions in which a commodity was SURGXFHG )UHH DQG +XJKVRQ   7KLV GLVFRQQHFW ³IHWLVKL]HV´ D FRPPRGLW\ $SSDGXUDL1986) and this is where the concept of commodity fetishism originates. Commodity fetishism objectifies social relations and therefore ignores the social aspects that happen within economic transactions. In our capitalist society, this fetishization occurs frequently. Everything that we buy is alienated from its mode of production and we do not have a grasp on the social implications of the product (commodity) that we are purchasing. For example when we buy a car, the object that we are purchasing is merely that, an object. The social and cultural factors that went into constructing the vehicle are ignored and we are merely buying a car. Commodity fetishism is a complex theory within economics and helps explain how commodities are bought and sold in a market economy through a Marxist lens. I will explain later how this concept can be challenged through the purchase of commodities that have social and cultural meaning.  0D[:HEHUDQRWKHUHDUO\VFKRODULQWHUHVWHGLQFDSLWDOLVPDUJXHGWKDW³UDWLRQDOHQWHUSULVH´ZDVthe driving force behind capitalism (Hann and Hart 2011: 146). He argued that in order for capitalism to take root, people must overcome their fear of investment risk and replace it with a form of rationality (Hann and Hart 2011). Weber argued that a cultural revolution integrally tied to religion helped establish the seedling that became the tree of capitalism (Hann and Hart 2011: 147).   The study of capitalism from an anthropological level has led to new terms that help explain the QXDQFHV RI FDSLWDOLVP WKDW H[LVW WRGD\ 7HUPV VXFK DV ³SXUH´ FDSLWDOLVP EDVHG RQ WKH JOREDOQRUPV WKDW ZH FDQ VHH GHYHORSLQJ ZRUOGZLGH DQG ³RUJDQLF´ FDSitalism which focuses on the local consumption habits on a smaller scale, are examples of how anthropology is adapting to ! "(!this new area of study (Blim 2000). Once seen as a universal norm, capitalism can now be analysed in many different ways, from the global level right down to the local level. Scholars now admit that capitalism is not a common form and that more ethnography needs to be done in varying areas to get a better grasp on how capitalism is received in different areas (Blim 2000; Hann and Hart 2011).   Economic anthropology is moving in the right direction by accepting that capitalism is not a universal phenomenon. The discipline understands that although capitalism is widespread, it is also modified by the specific conditions in which it grows (Hann and Hart 2011: 147). Anthropologists have begun to look at the cultural impact that capitalism has on certain groups which is invaluable to providing a better understanding of the interconnection between culture and economics. However, certain aspects of analysis tend to be too universalistic. Certain economic concepts such as commodification and commodity fetishism sometimes are assumed to be apart from social and cultural spheres. Several great studies on football fans in Brazil, England and Scotland highlight the complex intricacies between capitalism, commodification and the role of fandom in structuring of cultural identity. These examples will hopefully illustrate that culture plays a large role in how commodity fetishism and commodification are understood within society and that these terms might not be so universalistic. Before I examine the football case studies I want to take a look at how cultural capital and commodities are created in a cultural and economic setting.   Cultural Capital and Commodities  Weber and Marx, when talking about capital are referring to commodities that have use value. All commodities have use value, but for Weber and Marx, this value is only determined by its worth in a market situation.  Cultural commodities have use values that are based in aesthetics, symbols and material value (Free and Hughson 2006). Free and Hughson draw on ZRUNE\3DXO:LOOLVZKR VHHV FXOWXUDO FRPPRGLWLHV DV ERWK D ³SXUH´ FRPPRGLW\ DVZHOO DV Dcultural commodity. Using the example of football team merchandise, Willis argues that these ³FRPPRGLWLHV´DUHVHHQERWKDVPDWHULDOJRRGVEXWDOVRDVFXOWXUDOJRRGVE\IRRWEDOOIDQV)UHHand Hughson 2006). Capitalism allows for consumer goods to be cultural commodities in that they provide tools for symbolic and creative work within a society through the practice of ! ")!³FRPPRQ FXOWXUH´ )UHH DQG +XJKVRQ  7KH H[DPSOH RI IDQV EX\LQJ PHUFKDQGLVH WRsupport their team illustrates this point. Fans of the Wolverhampton Wanderers buy team merchandise such as scarves, flags and jerseys as consumers and therefore partake in the fetishized aspect of consumerism (Free and Hughson 2006: 86). However, these purchases are DOVR VWHHSHG LQ FXOWXUDO PHDQLQJ 3XUFKDVLQJ WKHVH ³FRPPRGLWLHV´ DUH V\PEROV RI VXSSRUWemotional investment and symbolic to the team (Free and Hughson 2006: 86). This goes to show that cultural commodities have extra value beyond the market. As Appadurai puts it, consumption is both a social and active action (Appadurai 1986: 31); this means that people do not consume merely because they are part of the capitalist marketplace; people are active agents in their social world. It might be possible to argue that the Marxist assumption that commodities DQGFDSLWDOZHUH DOLHQDWHG IURPSHRSOH¶V OHYHO RISHUception is not universally true, at least in cases dealing with cultural capital. Another aspect of interest in the study of economic anthropology is commodification and its role in shaping culture. Before I look at how cultures are affected by commodification, I want to examine the concept of commodification using the example of football clubs. Commodification of Football   Commodities can be provisionally defined as objects of economic value (Appadurai 1986: 3) and commodification is the application of this definition to objects that might not previously had such an economic importance. Commodities are objects intended for exchange that develops under institutional and economic conditions of capital (Appadurai 1986). Therefore, capitalism is integrally tied to the production of commodities and commodification. The connection of football and capitalism is a perfect example of how commodification has had a profound effect on fan culture and aspects of cultural identity.   Sam Dubal looks at capitalism through the concept of neoliberalization, a global hegemonic doctrine capable of homogenizing structural change (Dubal 2010). Neoliberalization LV D FRQFHSW WKDW HPHUJHG LQ WKH ¶V WKDW SXVKHGPDUNHW GULYHQ LGHDOV DQG DQ HPSKDVLV RQ profit making to the global forefront (Dubal 2010: 125). In Europe, neoliberalization of the football market is seen through a collusion of profit seeking individuals working together with (QJODQG¶VIRRWEDOODVVRFLDWLRQDQGPHGLDRXWOHWVWRWXUQIRRWEDOOinto a profitable business (Dubal ! "*!2010). This is seen in the way that wealthy individuals purchased teams from individual shareholders and in the process turned the club into a private business. Examples of this takeover FDQ EH VHHQ ZLWK0DOFROP*OD]HU¶V Wakeover of Manchester United and Russian oil magnate 5RPDQ$EURPRYLFK SXUFKDVLQJ &KHOVHD IRRWEDOO FOXE 'XEDO  ,Q %UD]LO 'XEDO¶V RWKHUexample of neoliberalization, commercialization was implemented by a desire to ³SURIHVVLRQDOL]H´WKHILQDQFLDODGPinistration of clubs and root out corruption and fraud (Dubal 2010: 126). The Brazilian form of commercialization was done by making teams operate like capitalist ventures with open books and accountable managers but also included private takeover of some clubs, much to the dismay of supporters (Dubal 2010: 127). The privatization of the clubs in both England and Brazil puts a single person or a limited number of people in total control of the team. In earlier times, football clubs were financed by and therefore owned by the community (Dubal 2010: 127). The shift from community ownership to private ownership reflects what has happened all over the world with regards to capitalist ventures and globalization.   The initial conclusion to be made is that capitalism, in its simplest terms is hegemonic and global. Marxists might argue that the privatization of football is just another victim of the capitalist system and that commodification and commodity fetishism are universal. This would be the simple assumption, however, commodification lies at a complex intersection of temporal, cultural and social factors (Appadurai 1986) and this means that describing commodification in universal terms is impossible. A more nuanced approach to studying the varying ways that cultures interact with capitalism is needed, something both Dubal and Blim, among others, acknowledge (Blim 2000; Dubal 2010). Another issue that arises within the study of FRPPRGLILFDWLRQDQGFDSLWDOLVPLVWKHXVHRIEODQNHWWHUPV/L]0RRULQKHUSDSHU³6port and &RPPRGLILFDWLRQ $5HIOHFWLRQ RI .H\ &RQFHSWV´ ZULWHV WKDW WKH WHUP ³FRPPRGLILFDWLRQ´ LVXVHG WRRRIWHQDQG LQKLELWV WKHXQGHUVWDQGLQJRI³GHIHWLVKL]DWLRQ´ WKURXJK LQVWDQFHVRIFXOWXUDOpractice (Moor 2007). This goes with the argument that a more flexible analysis of economic anthropology is needed, one that is exemplified by the complex culture of football fans and their connection to their teams. I will now examine the effects of commodification on fan culture in order to illustrate the complexity involved with changing supporter identity.  ! #+!Football Supporter Identity   Catherine Palmer summarizes the value of studying sports from an anthropological angle E\H[SODLQLQJWKDW³VSRUWHYRNHVSDVVLRQGULYHVHFRQRPLHVDQGVKDSHVSROLWLFVDQGXQGHUVFores QDWLRQDO UHJLRQDO DQG HWKQLF LGHQWLWLHV´ 3DOPHU   3DOPHU LOOXVWUDWHV KHU SRLQW WKDWsport is used to articulate regional identity by describing an episode where a woman who went LQWRODERXULQDULYDOWHDP¶VVWDGLXPDQGZDVPDGWKDWKHUEDby was going to be born in a rival VWDWH 3DOPHU   3DOPHU¶V H[DPSOH LV QRW GLVFXVVLQJ IRRWEDOO EXW LW KLJKOLJKWV WKHimportance that sports play in cultural identity, something that football supporters know all too well.   The commodification of football, a term I am using to describe the privatization and IRFXVHGHIIRUWRIJHQHUDWLQJSURILWIURPWKHVSRUWKDVFUHDWHGLVVXHVIRU³WUDGLWLRQDO´IDQVRIWKHgame. Empirical firsthand accounts of fan reactions to commodification have been collected by Richard Giulianotti and Sam Dubal which highlight supporter reaction to the commodification of WKHLU WHDPVDQGVSRUW*LXOLDQRWWL¶V UHVHDUFKRQ6FRWWLVK IRRWEDOO IDQVSURYLGH LQVLJKW LQWRKRZthese supporters affiliate themselves with their team and how they interpret the changing environments they have experienced through commodification (Giulianotti 2005). For supporters of Scottish football, particularly at the professional level, supporting is not just a leisure activity; it is a way of life with supporters sticking to their team whether they do well or not (Giulianotti 2005). This is in contrast with fans of North American sports where people are more inclined to shop around in the commodified marketplace of sports to find a team that embodies winning traits (Guilianotti 2002: 28). Working with research by Alt, Guilianotti notes that FRPPRGLILFDWLRQPRVWO\WKURXJKWKHWHOHYLVLQJRI1RUWK$PHULFDQVSRUWVKDV³GLVVROYHG´ORFDOaffiliations with teams (Guilianotti 2002: 28). In Europe, a similar thing is happening, but testimonies from fans show that there is still a deep seated connection to their team, at least for now. One supporter complains about the armchair fans that only cheer for a team that they see on TV, and disregard their hometown team (Guilianotti 2005: 390). Supporters of local teams that identify with their local club are critical of people who use the commodification of other teams to align themselves with an identity that is outside their own city (Guilianotti 2005: 390). For these fans, it is the wrong attitude to cheer for a team just because they are more popular. Another sore VSRW IRU OR\DO VXSSRUWHUV DUH WKH ³JORU\´ KXQWHUV RIWHQ NQRZQ DV EDQGZDJRQHUV LQ 1RUWK! #"!America who only cheer for teams when they are doing well or watch games that involve another prestigious club (Guilianotti 2005: 391). What these points highlight is how strongly supporters believe in their team and the connection they feel to their club. Within the fan culture of football, there are people who do not follow the game to the same extent or with the same passion but WKHVHSHRSOHDUHGLVOLNHGE\WKH³WUDGLWLRQDO´VXSSRUWHUVZKRDWWHQGDVPDQ\JDPHVDVSRVVLEOHand feel integrally connected to their team. Free and Hughson explain this connection by arguing WKDW³EHLQJ WKHUH´ DW WKHJDPHPDNHV WKHH[SHULHQFHRI HYHQDFRPPRGLILHGJDPH³RULJLQDO´(Free and Hughson 2006). The supporters that attend the games, purchase the merchandise, and are emotionally connected to their teams exhibit a social identity that is inclusive for all fans.  Spectator identity is an important and interesting area to study the effects of commodification on cultural values. The strong emotional connection that supporters feel towards their teams gives a personal understanding to the otherwise abstract study of commodification and capitalism. The effects of capitalism and commodification can be studied through a cultural lens by analysing how football spectators interact with the changing economic environment that they face. Guilianotti summarL]HVIRRWEDOOVXSSRUWHU¶VFRPSOH[VLWXDWLRQ ³'HVSLWH WKH IDFW WKDW HPRWLRQDO DQG ELRJHRJUDSKLFDO UHDVRQV UDWKHU WKDQ HFRQRPLFmotives are behind their allegiances, no one could deny that supporters are heavily LPEHGGHGZLWKLQIRRWEDOO¶VQHZFXOWXUDOHFRQRP\´ (Guilianotti 2005: 392).   Supporters of football are aware of their role in the economic marketplace, despite the fact that they would exist even without the commodification of the sport. Commodification of football has changed the identity of supporters from fans to consumers (Giulianotti 2005). Teams now rely on supporters for more than their emotional and vocal support at games. Fan interest is now harnessed by football businesses to provide financial support for teams. Commodification: The Changing Spectator Identity The current era of commercialization of football has had a dramatic impact on fans and fan culture (Dubal 2010). As I have alluded to before, fans are no longer just emotional support, they provide the finances that keep the football teDP¶VEXVLQHVVUXQQLQJ7KHWLFNHWSULFHIRUDJDPHin the 1987/88 season cost 120 pounds but this has jumped to 550 pounds for the 2003/04 season, an inflation of 624% compared to the U.K Retail Prices Index inflation rate of 70% (Guilianotti ! ##!2005: 398). This does not actually reflect a lower number of people showing up to the games, in fact, in the 2003/04 season the average attendance was 58,500 people per game compared to 18,390 for Celtic games in 1983/84 (Guilianotti 2005: 398). However, the people attending these games are a different kind of supporter. Football clubs rely heavily on supporter investment in tickets and merchandise to fund their business but the evolution from club to business has changed the way that supporters see themselves and the way the club interprets their supporters back.   Merchandise such as jerseys and scarves are marketed to supporters who buy these objects religiously (Guilianotti 2005). When this happens, commodity fetishism is at work; to the team, the items for sale represent monetary capital when they are purchased. This compels teams to change their jerseys and merchandise frequently in order to create new items for purchase. However, for the supporter, the jerseys, track suits and other items offered by the team do not merely represent objects to buy. They purchase these goods to fulfill an emotional tie and to be connected to other supporters through a common culture. Consequently, they defetishize their purchase by connecting to their purchase through social and emotional connections (Free and Hughson 2006). Not only is the merchandise fetishized, however. The game itself, with the owners and stadium organizers controlling tickets and seating, fetishize each individual game (Free and Hughson 2006). However, sports fans can refashion the commodity (the game) in their own way by cheering and supporting their team (Free and Hughson 2006). Cheering and supporting a team in person provides fans a chance to connect with the production of the game which also defetishizes the commodity. This goes to show that the concept of commodity fetishism is not something that is universal in a capitalist system. In certain cultural venues, defetishism can occur which should be included in concepts of study when analysing capitalism.   Commodity fetishism is not the only thing that affects supporters of football. Their identity as fans is also affected by the way football clubs market themselves. Teams like Manchester United have shed their local roots to become marketable global brands and in doing VR WKH\ GHVWUR\ WKH µRUJDQLF FRPPXQLW\¶ WKDW LV FUHDWHG LQ VPDOOHU FXOWXUDO FRQWH[WV )UHH DQG+XJKVRQ   ³%HLQJ WKHUH´ LV DQ LPSRUWDQW IDFWRU LQ IRUPLQJ FRPPXQLW\ DQG ZLWKManchester United becoming a global commodity with games being televised overseas and ! #$!merchandise being sold all over the world, some fans are no longer cultural consumers (Free and Hughson 2006). When studying this case, it becomes apparent that two separate fan identities are now formed: the secondary fan that experiences the commodified version of the game through television and merchandise, and the traditional fan that has an emotional and cultural connection to the game. The separation of these two groups shows how commodification and capitalism create varying levels of structure within the social world. Universalistic explanations of capitalism and commodification homogenizing the world might not be the perfect explanation.   When faced with changing economic conditions, some people reorganize within the cultural structure, while others are pushed out. Traditional fans who have stuck with their team over the years are finding themselves financially squeezed out of their support from rising ticket prices and culturally forced out through the gentrification of stadiums (Dubal 2010; Guilianotti 2005). The higher ticket prices have forced supporters who do not have the money away from WKHFXOWXUDO VSKHUHRI WKH IRRWEDOO VXSSRUWHU ,QIRUPDQWV IURP*XLOLDQRWWL DQG'XEDO¶V UHVHDUFKVD\WKHVDPHWKLQJ³WKHDYHUDJHZRUNLQJFODVVSHUVRQLVQRORQJHUDFFHSWHGDWJDPHV´'XEDO2010; Guilianotti; 2005). In the past, football clubs signified social inclusion of members and fans (Dubal 2010), but now clubs are more driven by profits and social exclusion is more common. Manchester UniWHGGURSSHGWKHµIRRWEDOOFOXE¶WHUPIURPWKHLUWHDPQDPHWREHFRPHDmore cosmopolitan brand (Dubal 2010) which shows that the team is actively partaking in UHEUDQGLQJWKHLULPDJH6XSSRUWHUVZKRWU\WRDWWHQGDOORIWKHLUWHDP¶VJDPHVRIWHQKDYHWURXEOHbuying tickets for the big matchups despite showing up for all other games (Guilianotti 2005: 18); this is because the clubs have begun to market their team to a new social class of fans, with higher incomes and less emotional investment that only prefer to watch good weather and good competitive games. The lower income fans are casualties of capitalism and commodification, something that occurs in most places when the market takes precedent over emotional and cultural values. Availability is not the only thing that affects true supporters. To borrow %RXUGLHX¶V WHUP WKH KDELWXV RI JDPH HQYLURQPHQWV KDV FKDQJHG )DQV LQ WKHPRUH H[SHQVLYHVHDWVWHQGQRWWRSDUWDNHLQWKH³ORZHUFODVV´ULWXDOVVXFKDVVLQJLQJDQGVWDQGLQJGXULQJWKHJDPH(Dubal 2010). In one episode a child who attempts to sing along at a game is scolded by his mother to conform to the quietness that occupied the area (Dubal 2010: 135). The lower class, local spectators are undergoing an identity crisis since their traditional customs of attending ! #%!games and participating as a group in cheering on their team are being affected by both social and economic barriers. It is true that capitalism and commodification do play a large role in VKDSLQJ SHRSOH¶V FXOWXUH ZLWK UHJDUGV WR IRRWEDOO EXW LW PXVW not be assumed that people are unwilling participants in this economic milieu. As will be explained, people have agency and some supporters shift their cultural values to become less connected to the commodified world.  Sam Dubal uses an example of FC Manchester to illustrate how fans adapt to the changing economic system that they face (Dubal 2010). Football supporters who feel that the game has become too commodified have moved to support new, smaller teams that still retain WKH³FODVVLF´IRRWEDOODWPRVSKere (Dubal 2010). FC Manchester, a football team that is several tiers below the Premier League operates with as little commercialization as possible (Dubal 2010). This demonstrates the ability for people to use cultural agency to maintain aspects of their culture that they hold dear. Although supporting a certain team has distinct emotional and cultural value, the commodification of football has removed this value from the game and replaced it with economic value. Cultural agency is one way that people manage to cope with capitalism and commodification. Instead of subverting to commercialization of the game they love, fans instead reject aspects of capitalism and move to support teams that do not partake in over commodification.  Conclusion Economic anthropology is a multifaceted discipline with a complex task. In the post-modern day that we live in, theories are bountiful on how capitalism plays a role in shaping the lives and culture of people. Football supporters show how complex the subject is; not one theory can be applied that answers any one question or provides an understanding that can be used universally. ,¶PQRW WKHILUVWRQHWRDUJXHWKDWXQLYHUVDOLVWLF WKHRULHVRQFDSLWDOLVPGRQRWSURYLGHWKHULJKWanswers (Dubal 2010; Hann and Hart 2011), but what I hope to illustrate here is that the complexity of culture, society and economics requires a nuanced approach to be properly understood. Concepts like commodity fetishism need to be reconsidered when looking at cultural values, something that is often overlooked from an economic perspective. This is where economic anthropology might find its strength, in providing an approach to economics that ! #&!accepts the social and cultural factors in one package to help us understand how people negotiate the economic world.  References Appadurai, Arjun 1986. Introduction. Commodities and the Politics of Value. In The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective.  Blim, Michael.  2000. Capitalisms in Late Modernity. Annual Review of Anthropology 29: 25-38.  Dubal, Sam.  2010. The Neoliberalization of Football: Rethinking Neoliberalism through the Commercialization of the Beautiful Game. International Review for the Sociology of Sport 45: 123-146.  Free, Marcus and John Hughson.  2006. Common Culture, Commodity Fetishism and the Cultural Contradictions of Sport. International Journal of Cultural Studies 9(1): 83-104.  Giulianotti, Richard 2002. Supporters, Followers, Fans, and Flaneurs : A Taxonomy of Spectator Identities in Football. Journal of Sport and Social Issues 26(1): 25-46.  Giulianotti, Richard. 2005. Sport Spectators and the Social Consequences of Commodification: Critical Perspectives from Scottish Football. Journal of Sport & Social Issues  29: 386-410.  Hann, Chris and Keith Hart. 2011. Chapter 8. In Economic Anthropology: History, Ethnography, Critique. Cambridge: Polity Press.   Moor, Liz 2007. Sport and Commodification: A Reflection on Key Concepts. Journal of Sport and Social Issues 31(2): 128-142.  Palmer, Catherine  2002. Introduction: Anthropology and Sport. The Australian Journal of Anthropology 13(3): 253-256.     ! #'! The Commoditization of K nowledge: A C ritique of Development Anthropology Clare Mildenberger    Development anthropology has been plagued from the beginning by a "crisis of representation" (Clammer, 2000, p. 1); the relationship between development anthropology and its two clients, those who are being developed and those who are funding the development, has undergone many transformations in an effort to be effective and ethical, but even its current incarnation is impaired by self-imposed limitations. Development anthropologists must critically consider the actions and relationships involved in development anthropology, if they hope to redefine its role in the world today. The current incarnation of development anthropology dictates gathering and interpreting "indigenous knowledge," but the anthropologist's relationship with this knowledge is ill-defined. This lack of an objective "inevitably creates the possibility of the commoditization or misuse of that knowledge," (Clammer). The commoditization of knowledge evinces the continued influence of the Cartesian model and Western bias in the conception and execution of development projects. To distance itself from this issue, it is necessary for development anthropology to disconnect itself from the economic problematization of development and acknowledge the efficacy of indigenous social movements.      Since the mid-1970's, anthropologists have become increasingly involved in the practice of development. Although, for the most part, anthropologists have not problematized the practice of development, their involvement in development projects indicates a departure from longstanding, traditional, objective observation and restricted intervention favoured by those trained in the Boasian tradition(Escobar). Theorists in the 1950's and 1960's defined development as "the change process by which societies make the transition from traditional to modern"(Gwynne). Anthropologists participating in development projects take the development of under-developed, or "Third World," countries for granted. This concept is evidence of the ! #(!perpetuation of an outdated theory called Modernization theory, which postulates that "development would inevitably take place as societies gradually abandoned traditional cultural IHDWXUHV«DQGEHFDPHLQFUHDVLQJO\XUEDQDQGLQGXVWULDOL]HG(Gwynne). Labrecque takes up this issue in her discussion of the anthropology of development in relation to globalization:   globalization, linked to the decline of hierarchical organization and decentralization of political power, gives the allusion of increasing homogeneity. However, cracks are forming, marginalization is intensifying. We are living in a world of heterogeneity that we do not know how to analyze because, according to Rist(Rist), "globalization is unlike any cultural model we have seen before" (Labrecque, 2000.)   Modernization theory, and the top-down approaches involved, is now considered seriously flawed and ineffectual, but some organizations, such as the World Bank, still "strenuously [promote] economic expansion as the antidote for underdevelopment,"(Gwynne). Many projects inspired by modernization theory, and using top-down approaches are not sustainable, and some even leave people worse off than before. Michael Cernea clarifies that we are often not given the full picture; it is true that global life expectancy has risen and infant death rates have fallen, but the inequality gap continues to widen: "incomes in the countries with the richest 20% of the world's population grew nearly three times faster than in the countries with the poorest 20%" (Cernea). Moreover, what are anthropologists' roles in "rapidly-democratizing" nations where there is a growing consensus to defend the rights of minorities against "traditional and customary law"(Scheper-Hughes).      Currently, anthropology is attempting to "re-establish its credentials" by forming a relationship with indigenous knowledge, but the concept is ill-defined: are we supposed to discover, conscientize the locals to, publicize, or even criticize that knowledge (Clammer)? John Clammer presents two arguments, involving the Cartesian model and Western bias, that both complicate the process of development. The Cartesian influence on the epistemological framework of development anthropology is significant because the "cognitive dimension" of knowledge is emphasized over somatic dimensions, such as emotions. The influence of Western ! #)!bias is considerably more complicated: the concern with "participatory development" obscures the emphasis on the inherent opposition of indigenous knowledge (good) and foreign/Western knowledge (bad). Development anthropologists reiterate pre-existing views of "modernization, social change, and the Third World," all in the name of "cultural sensitivity and local knowledge," (Escobar). The influence of Western bias is not solely a recurrence of "Orientalism's error of romanticizing the local knowledge of the Other," but also of the wilful ignorance of "indigenous and alternative anthropologies" (Clammer).   The largest stumbling block when it comes to the efficacy of development projects, however, is the economic problematization of development. When anthropologists began taking part in development projects, they were assimilated into a structure wherein economists have defined development in terms of problems; the designation of problems results in the conception of large-scale economic programs and projects as solutions (Labrecque). These projects are intimately linked with Modernization theory and the establishment of Western economy as a culture. Escobar agrees that "anthropologists reinforce ethnocentric and dominating models of development," (Escobar). The lack of a human element to the process of development is conducive to failure; sociologists and political scientists rarely investigate anthropological factors and this oversight is particularly alarming since development is about social transformation.   The absence of consideration for social factors is evident when it comes to "women in development." Marie France Labrecque supports the notion that development anthropology is gendered: the formation of Western economy, and its institutions of development, was impaired principally by its lack of social scientists, but also the lack of female development economists(Labrecque). Development workers "tended to view women in developing countries as stay-at-home caretakers of others, rather than participants²actual or potential²in the economic or political lives of their countries,"(Gwynne). The social aspect of development is once again in the spotlight when the role of the development anthropologist is examined. The fundamental dilemma of the development anthropologist is "to be or not to be involved,"(Escobar). Clearly, the issue is resolved in favour of involvement, but many development anthropologists legitimate intervention by accusing those who do not participate as ! #*!"stand[ing] on the sidelines,"(Escobar). Anthropologists who support this view often cite development as inevitable or necessary and assume that the participation, or intervention, of an anthropologist in the project will be meaningful to the needs of the poor. Those that admit that there are problems within the development institutions blame these on the "bureaucratic nature of [those] institutions,"(Escobar).   To eliminate the ambiguous approach to indigenous knowledge taken by Western social scientists, we must acknowledge local anthropological communities. Local anthropologists mediate and interpret local knowledge from within, which often results in models very different from the cognitive assumptions of social scientists in the West. These local anthropological communities are also capable of deconstructing the notion of indigenous knowledge and understanding the relationship between indigenous knowledge and development; such reframing changes the debates regarding development and even questions the meaning and desirability of it(Clammer). Social movements capture the formation of indigenous social knowledge and illustrate the moment at which knowledge becomes practice. Development is about social transformation and indigenous social movements are "the most telling critiques of the [economistic] paradigm,"(Clammer). A focus on social organization will provide a context in which to examine all the possible actors which may be affected by the problem under analysis(Cernea). To produce an "alternative development" (Shet) effectually, anthropologists of development must reject current, ethnocentric models of development, support "pluralistic grassroots movements" (Escobar), and work toward a "relation between truth and reality different from that which has characterized Western modernity in general and development in particular"(Escobar). Laura Thompson claims that cultures are self-producing entities and applied anthropologists should only clarify the "historical options available to a community," but should not make any intervention, not even "on behalf of the poor" (Thompson). Within the realm of social organization, it is necessary to address the notion of women in development (WID). More and more women are entering the public sector and international development agencies have established an office of WID, but at the risk of being divisive, organizations must take into account both genders, especially as they complement one another(Gwynne).   ! $+!To fight biased development models, sociologists (and other social scientists) must work with development anthropologists to reject econocentric models and provide integrated, actionable alternatives; development is about people, their knowledge, and their forms of social organization, not about commodities(Cernea). Therefore, social scientists must work with economists in the formulation of development policies. Although development anthropology should avoid an econocentric model, development anthropologists should be informed of economic concepts and quantifying methodologies. Otherwise, anthropological recommendations will be "embarrassingly naïve or directly erroneous"(Cernea). Regarding involvement, anthropologists necessitate a "high degree of ethical, political, and practical consciousness" to decide, on a case by case basis, whether or not to participate(Escobar). The organizations themselves are out of date: the teaching of social sciences must be restructured, as it shapes the minds of future developers, policy makers and others in the field of applied social sciences(Cernea).  In light of the evidence, it is clear that development anthropologists must critically consider the relationships of development, their role, and the conditions of the production of their work. This can only be accomplished by conceiving a proper institutional ethnography to determine the actual effect of a "specific development intervention" on a local community (Escobar). It is essential to devise an anthropological practice apart from both mainstream development and mainstream anthropology, but most importantly, an anthropological practice that regards others as different, yet equal, subjects (Escobar).        References Cernea, M. M. (1995). Malinwski Award Lecture: Social Organization and Development Anthropology. Human Organization, 54 (3), 340-352.  &ODPPHU -  $ &ULWLTXH RI µ&RJQLWLYH¶ 'HYHORSPHQW $QWKURSRORJ\ $QWKURSRORJ\Today, 16(5), 1-3.  Escobar, A. (1991). Anthroplogy and Development Encounter: The Making and Marketing of Development Anthroplogy. American Ethnologist, 18)4), 658-682.  ! $"!Gwynne, M. A. (2003). Development Anthrpology. In M. A. Gwynne, Applied Anthroplogy: A Career-Oriented Approach (pp. 105-128). Boston: Pearson Education Inc.  /DEUHFTXH0)/¶$QWKURSRORJLHGH'HYHORSSHPPHQWDX7HPSVGHOD0RQGLDOLVDWLRQAnthropologie et Societe, 24(1), 58-78.  Rist, G. (1997). La Mondialization des Anti-Societes. In G. Rist, La Mondialization des Anti-Societes: Espaces Reves at Lieux Communs (pp. 23-39). Paris: Presses Universitaires de France: Nouveaus Cahiers de l;IUED.  Scheper-Huges, N. (1995). The Primacy of the Ethical: Propositions for a Militant Anthropology. Current Anthropology, 36(3), 409-440. Shet, D. L. (1986). An Appropriate Role for Post-Colonial Applied Anthropologists. Human Organization, 35(1), 1-7.                       ! $#! L inguistic Variability as a Mode of Agency Brooke Mc F arlane    /DQJXDJH LVZLGHO\ DFNQRZOHGJHGDV DQ LPSRUWDQW DVSHFW RIRQH¶V LGHQWLW\:KLOH LW LVcommon to examine how different linguistic styles belong to certain cultural identities, it is not clearly understood whether one of the two is a result of the other. Because so many factors contribute to the development of any identity, it is important to make sure language is understood as not only a main contributor, but also a determinate. Society may be the structure that shapes RQH¶V LGHQWLW\ EXW ZKHWKHU RU QRW RQH Fhooses to embrace or dissociate from the identity determines our place in society in the end. Linguistic variability, as observed through pride or GLVVRFLDWLRQ LV WKH DJHQWXVHG LQ FRQVWUXFWLQJD SHUVRQ¶VRZQSHUVRQDO LGHQWLW\ DQGFRQQHFWLRQwith the localHVZLWKLQWKDWSHUVRQ¶VOLIH6LQFHODQJXDJHLVVXFKDNH\LGHQWLILHULQFXOWXUHLWVrole as an act of agency needs to be examined more closely so that its contribution to the shaping of culture does not go unnoticed. Because the possibilities with linguistic variability are so endless, I will be limiting my analysis to East Harlem and Dublin to demonstrate the spectrum of proud identification and dissociation through language respectively. By examining these two areas, I will be able to exemplify how linguistic variability succeeds in its agency by both allowing the speaker to identify into a certain identity, as well as allowing the disassociation from another. Linguistic variability, as observed through pride or dissociation, can act as a mode of agency by creating a preferable locale within a specific society in order to undermine the predetermined cultural structure.   In order to examine the amount of agency involved within linguistic variability, it is important to clarify which level of its use directly affects the shift of the social outcome being attempted by the speaker. As Duranti (2004) notes, anything linguistically expressed will have a VRFLDORXWFRPHUHJDUGOHVVRIWKHVSHDNHU¶VLQWHQWLRQ+RZHYHULWLVZKHQRQHDFWLYHO\KDUQHVVHVhis or her intentions that a purposeful action of social implication is achieved. From this, it is ! $$!obvious that both the structure and the agency of language coexist to create cultural truths, which UHVXOW LQ D VLWXDWLRQ VLPLODU WR WKH WKHRUHWLFDO IOX[ RI %RXUGLHX¶V idea of the habitus (1977). +RZHYHU WR H[SDQGRQ%RXUGLHX¶V LGHDRI VWUXFWXUHEHLQJGLFWDWHGE\FRQWH[WXDO VLWXDWLRQVRIagency, it seems that the purpose of linguistic agency is to deliberately escape the surrounding structures and intentionally recreate new, preferred social constructs more specifically. In linguistic terms, the existing structures can be defined as speech communities because their OLQJXLVWLFVW\OHV³HPERG\LGHRORJLHVWKDWWRJHWKHUFRQVWLWXWHWKHVRFLDORUGHU´(FNHUWParticipDWLRQLQWKHVSHHFKFRPPXQLW\PDLQWDLQVWKHFRPPXQLW\¶VLGHQWLW\DQGJLYHVPHDQLQJWRit (Eckert 2000:4). Therefore, the decision for a person to transfer between two speech communities would require a deliberate action; one would need to gain communicative competence and strategic language use in order to succeed (Hymes 1971). However, not all acts of linguistic variability are as permanent in their shift between speech communities. If linguistically blending in with another speech community is what permits a speaker with easier access outside of their social constructs, the speaker will use different linguistic variables in order to temporarily mask their identities for those of the other speech community. Sometimes this can translate to the speaker attempting to seem as though they belong to a speech FRPPXQLW\ LQRWKHUFDVHV WKHVSHDNHUZLOOXVHWKHYDULDEOHVWRPHUHO\FRPHRIIDVSROLWH³,Qusing language, we are constantly monitoring the type of person we want to be (Self) for Others and the type of OWKHUVZHZDQWWREHWKHUHIRUXV´'XUDQWL$VDUHVXOWDSHUVRQFDQmonitor the way they appear to others in order to gain a certain response and can then return to their original social position as constituted by their own speech community. Furthermore, ³OLQJXLVWLFXVDJHVUHIOHFWUHLQIRUFHDQGVRPHWLPHVUHFRQILJXUHDJHQF\DQGVWDWXVKLHUDUFKLHVLQWKHVRFLHW\´$GKHDUQ%RWKWKHUHFRQILJXUDWLRQVDQGUHLQIRUFHPHQWVUHTXLUHDFKRLFHto do so based on a personal opinion or perspective; KRZHYHU³>W@KHH[WHQWWRZKLFKVXFKDFWLRQVDUHSHUIRUPHGZLOOIXOO\DQGZLWKVSHFLILFJRDOVLQPLQGYDULHV´'XUDQWL:KHWKHUWKHOLQJXLVWLFYDULDELOLW\LVEHLQJXVHGWRUHFRQILJXUHRUUHLQIRUFHRQH¶VSODFHLQVRFLHW\GHSHQGVRQtheir perspectives of their locality.   As discussed by Hugh Raffles (1999), location has little to do with locality; a locale is determined by the cultural or personal meanings a person attaches to it.  That being said, the social identifiers attached to a speech community will often connote the speaker to a specific ! $%!location. However, this attachment can be undermined by the perspectives of those connoting the ORFDOLW\ EHFDXVH ³>V@W\OHV DUH GHYHORSHG ZLWKLQ FRPPXQLWLHV RI SUDFWLFH DV SDUW RI WKHFRPPXQLW\¶VHIIRUWWRPDke meaning of themselves as they jointly interpret the social landscape, DQG MRLQWO\ FDUYH RXW D GHVLUHG SODFH IRU WKHPVHOYHV LQ WKDW ODQGVFDSH´ (FNHUW Depending on the situation, the cultural implications placed on the localities of different speech communities can either strengthen the identities of those involved or trigger resentment from feelings of misrepresentation. The first of these two extremes can be observed in the language style used within East Harlem (Bourgois 2003), where the social out-casting in Harlem lead to its reinforcement through proud embracement of their social indicators, one of which being ODQJXDJHVW\OH%HFDXVHRIWKHLQFRPSDWLELOLW\WKHSHRSOHLQ%RXUJRLV¶HWKQRJUDSK\KDGZLWKWKHdominant society, they embraced their own locales by further enforcing their identities upon it. In other words, instead of feeling alienated by the higher social classes, they chose to take pride in their own identities by further segregating themselves away from the alienators. Although %RXUJRLV VHHV WKLV DV VLPSO\ D VWUXFWXUDO LVVXH WKH VSHDNHU¶V FKRLFH WR QRW DOWHU WKHLU VSHHFKaround those who might ostracize them for it demonstrates a resistance to the variation. They know what is required to avoid the structural barriers but prefer to stand true to their speech communities instead as an act of pride. This is observable in the ethnography when Primo was instructed not to answer phones at his office job for fear of scaring customers away with his Spanish East Harlem accent. After his boss had hurt his pride by informing him of this he stated, ³, XVHG WR MXVW VRXQG 3RUWD¶UUUULFDQ RQ SXUSRVH´ %RXUJRLV  7KHUHIRUH WKH SULGH LQ3ULPR¶VFXOWXUDOLGHQWLW\OHGKLPWRUHLQIRUFHWKHEDUULHUVDURXQGKLVORFDOH+RZWKHFRPPXQLW\will react to construction of their outward identities varies and is dependent on the contextual IDFWRUV ,Q (DVW +DUOHP WKH FRPPXQLW\¶V LPPLJUDQW EDFNJURXQG FRPELQHG ZLWK FXOWXUDOincompatibilities with the dominant society led to a strong portrayal of pride and social reinforcement. On the other hand, it is when the speaker feels their locality is misrepresenting their perceptions of identity that the use of linguistic variability is at its full use in order to change the social outcome.   In regards to language and agency, it is clear that one would not be able to purposefully manipulate the social constructs without the ability to employ the variables at hand. As the ORFDOLW\ RI D VSHHFK FRPPXQLW\ LV EDVHG RQ WKH VSHDNHUV¶ VKDUHG EHOLHIV DQG DWWLWXGHV (FNHUW ! $&!2000:22) it would therefore be crucial to belong to the right one. The variety of situations and QHHGVRIDSHUVRQDQG³WKHNLQGVRIUHVSRQVHVWKH\WHQGWRKDYHWRWKHVHVLWXDWLRQVDQGQHHGVDQGthe kinds of people and resources available to engage in these responses with, will vary GHSHQGLQJ RQ ZKHUH WKH\ OLYH LQ VRFLHW\´ (FNHUW  ,Q WKH XQLTXH FRQWH[W RI WKH 'accent in Dublin, Ireland the newly wealthy group of young adults felt they should be set apart in their recent economic successes from WKHGRPLQDQW,ULVKLGHQWLW\  7KHDFFHQWGHYHORSHGDV³DZD\ IRU \RXQJHU QHZO\ DIIOXHQW VSHDNHUV WR ³KLYH RII´ IURP WKH PDVVHV E\ DYRLGLQJpronunciations seen as emblematic either of working-class Dublin identity or of rural Irish SURYLQFLDOLVP´0RRUH 2011:42). They felt that that the common Irish identity no longer fit them and as a result, they deliberately changed their speech in an attempt to set themselves apart and ultimately above, the dominant culture. The accent was named D4, after the postal area of Dublin from which the community resided. In an attempt to not be identifiable with the mainstream VRFLHW\ WKHDFFHQWGHPRQVWUDWHV WKLVSKHQRPHQRQDVEHLQJ³PRWLYDWHGE\VRFLDO IDFWRUVZLWKLQ'XEOLQ´+LFNH\LQRWKHUZRUGVWRWKHVSHHFKFRPPXQLW\¶VORFDOH³,QWKHOLQJXLVWLFdimension, the dissociation, which the socially mobile section of the Dublin population shows, is particularly marked with respect to those features of the low-status variety which are VWLJPDWLVHG´+LFNH\Because the working-class and rural communities appeared to the newly wealthy D4 group as stigmatized, they did not want to be misrepresented as belonging to the same low status as they felt they had earned a higher identification.  The variables being purposefully employed here are a vowel shift that sounds more reminiscent of an American accent than anything Irish (Hickey 2000:311).  The application of linguistic variability through GLVVRFLDWLRQ IURP RQH¶V QDWXUDO VSHHFK FRPPXQLW\ GHPRQVWUDWHV WKH SRVVLELlities of agency in ODQJXDJHXVHQRWDOOLQVWDQFHVRIWKHGHOLEHUDWHUHFRQILJXUDWLRQRIRQH¶VJLYHQLGHQWLW\WKURXJKlanguage are this obvious, but the extremity of this case demonstrates the possibilities well. Therefore, not only do the levels of agency vary but so do the levels of variability.   The basis behind the use of linguistic variability as the switching to and between speech communities is all rooted in the general goal of manipulating the social structures in order to create, impose or imitate a particular identity. This varies in its use based upon what the speaker is hoping to accomplish. In the case of the D4 accent, the blatant discrimination of the Irish majority led to some intensive backlash and anger towards the speakers performing the linguistic ! $'!dissociation. As a result, the strategic employment of the variables at hand allowed the D4 speakers to switch in and out of their accent in order to escape an argument (Moore 2011:42). As a result, they use the variables to raise themselves above the dominant social class when they feel safe to do so but can conversely lower themselves down to fit in when needed as well. Linguistic YDULDEOHV FDQ DOVR EH REVHUYHG LQ WKH ORZHU FODVVHV HOVHZKHUH WR HLWKHU UHLQIRUFH RQH¶V ORZHUstatus, as previously PHQWLRQHGZLWKWKHH[DPSOHRI3ULPREXW WRDOVRUDLVHRQH¶VVWDWXVZKHQHQFRXQWHULQJDKLJKHUFODVV7KHYDULDEOHXVHGWRUDLVHRQH¶VVWDWXVZRXOGEHSROLWHODQJXDJHDQGWKLVDFWVDVWKH³>V@WDWXV-levelling [and] the reduction of power differentials among superior and VXERUGLQDWH DFWRUV´ 0RUDQG WR DOORZFRRSHUDWLRQ DFURVV WKH VRFLDO KLHUDUFK\ 7KHXVH RI YDULDEOHV FDQ EH ³VHHQ WR EH IRUPV RI UHVLVWDQFH WR XQIDYRUDEOH LGHQWLWLHV´ 1RUWRQ2010:8); however, such identities may be permanently unfavorable and thus require the UHLQYHQWLRQ RI RQH¶V LGHQWLW\ ZKHUHDV VRPH LGHQWLWLHV PD\ RQO\ EH XQIDYRUDEOH LQ SDUWLFXODUcircumstances and would therefore require contextual and temporary linguistic manipulations. ³3ROLWHODQJXDJHLVWKXVHQYLVLRQHGDVDfinite menu of weighted tactics that users choose from, OLEHUDOO\RUVSDULQJO\DVFLUFXPVWDQFHVUHTXLUH´0RUDQG%HFDXVHSROLWHODQJXDJHLVused to achieve a specific end goal, its importance to status levelling within a social hierarchy serves as a crucial tactic of linguistic variability (Morand 2000:240). A more ambiguous example of status-OHYHOOLQJ FDQ EH REVHUYHG ZLWKLQ 3KLOLSSH %RXUJRLV¶ SHUVRQDO HQFRXQWHUV ZLWK WKHcommunity members of East Harlem by examining his own linguistic variability. In an attempt to blend in linguistically with his informants, Bourgois temporarily switches into their speech community in order to gain their trust as well as to avoid offending them with his own educated language style. In the unique situation of East Harlem however, the type of courteous linguistic variability being applied is unique to the speech community. When encountering the police %RXUJRLVQRWHV ³:KHQ , WULHG WR VRXQG VLQFHUH IULHQGO\ ± or even polite ± I risked offending WKHP´  7KHrefore as previously mentioned, in order to succeed with the use of variables in the manipulation of class systems, gaining communicative competence is crucial (Hymes 1971). Only when the speaker knows which variables to utilize in a particular situation will they be able to actively undermine the predetermined cultural and social structures.   One argument in language study argues that social structures determine our language style and therefore our speech communities. Emily Martin (1991) argues that a perVRQ¶V! $(!language use is a direct cause of the cultural implications that are constructed within a society. +RZHYHUEHFDXVH³VSHDNHUVFDQPL[DQGPDWFKYDULDEOHVLQWKHFRQVWUXFWLRQRIORFDOPHDQLQJVMXVWDVWKH\PL[DQGPDWFKLWHPVRIDGRUQPHQW´(FNHUWLWVHHPVWKDWDSHUVRQ¶VXVHof language is actually what constructs the culture. Therefore, [i]t is not the assemblage or the purpose that defines the community of practice; rather, a community of practice is simultaneously defined by its membershLSDQGWKHVKDUHGSUDFWLFHLQZKLFKLWHQJDJHV´(FNHUW2000:35). The agency of linguistic variability acts to permanently or temporarily manipulate social constructs. Regardless of what the end goal may be, the deliberate use of linguistic variability acts to cause an outcome that would have not happened naturally.  Norton states that ³LWLVWKURXJKODQJXDJHWKDWDSHUVRQQHJRWLDWHVDVHQVHRIVHOIZLWKLQDQGDFURVVDUDQJHRIVLWHVat different points in time, and it is through language that a person gains access to - or is denied access to ± SRZHUIXO VRFLDOQHWZRUNV WKDWJLYH OHDUQHUV WKHRSSRUWXQLW\ WR VSHDN´ $Vthis happens naturally, the embracement of linguistic variability grants the speaker agency to decide whether or not to reinforce or rHFRQILJXUH WKHVRFLDOKLHUDUFKLHV³8OWLPDWHO\ WKHVRFLDOOLIHRIYDULDWLRQ OLHV LQ WKHYDULHW\RI LQGLYLGXDOV¶ZD\VRISDUWLFLSDWLQJ LQ WKHLUFRPPXQLWLHV ± their ways of fitting in, and of making their mark ± their ways of constructing meaning in their oZQ OLYHV´ (FNHUW -2). Whether the speaker feels misrepresented by their speech community or if they simply just need something seemingly unattainable, linguistic variation allows them to create a solution. However as stated, the spectrum of variability extends to many degrees of both action and inaction in changing an outcome. Linguistic variability does not always act to manipulate the social constructs; sometimes, the speaker will use language to consciously reconstruct the localities associated wiWKWKHLUVSHHFKFRPPXQLW\¶VVRFLDOLGHQWLWLHV7KLVVSHFWUXPLVEDVHGRQHDFKSHUVRQ¶VVSHFLILFSHUVSHFWLYHVDQGQHHGVDQGLVUHIOHFWHGWKURXJKthe proud social reinforcements in East Harlem, and the social reconfigurations of linguistic dissociation in DuEOLQ¶V ' VSHHFK FRPPXQLW\ ³7KH VWUDWLILFDWLRQ RI OLQJXLVWLF YDULDEOHVWKHUHIRUH VLPSO\ UHIOHFWV WKHVWUDWLILFDWLRQRI UHVLVWDQFH WRFKDQJH´ (FNHUW $VVHHQfrom the Dublin and East Harlem examples, linguistic variation will often act to distinguish itself from the dominant society in order to establish a certain identity (Bucholtz 2000:282). Although WKH WZR H[DPSOHV GHPRQVWUDWH WKH HPEUDFHPHQW DQG GLVVRFLDWLRQ RI RQH¶V VSHHFK FRPPXQLW\they both act to establish an identity through language. The members of a speech community are, therefore, not structurally confined within it; contextually based, the speaker will use language to ! $)!VRFLDOO\LGHQWLI\WKHPVHOYHV³9DULDWLRQGRHVQRWVLPSO\UHIOHFWDUHDG\-made social meaning; it is part of the meDQV E\ ZKLFK WKDW PHDQLQJ HPHUJHV´ (FNHUW  8OWLPDWHO\ WKURXJKlanguage everyone has the ability to alter the social and cultural structures by employing linguistic variables to ensure a particular result. Whether or not one chooses to make changes with the variables at hand does not mean they are not actively choosing the variables that keep it constant.   In the examination of culture, the question of what is being developed by active choices and what is being developed merely as a result of pre-existing structures is commonly asked. Rather than suggesting one or the other, or even a hybrid of the two (Bourdieu 1977), the ability to apply linguistic variables to achieve a certain outcome suggests that cultural structures are only in place based on the agency of those involved and can therefore be undermined. Because ODQJXDJH VW\OHV RIWHQ DFW DV H[SUHVVHUV RI D SHUVRQ¶V LGHQWLILFDWLRQ WKH DJHQF\ RI OLQJXLVWLFYDULDELOLW\ DFWVDV DZD\ WRDIIHFWKRZVXFK LGHQWLWLHVDUH UHSUHVHQWHG³7KHVRFLDOPHDQing of variation is built into the very means by which individual speakers are connected to their closest IULHQGV RQ WKH RQH KDQG DQG WR WKH PRVW DEVWUDFW OHYHO RI VRFLDO RUJDQL]DWLRQ RQ WKH RWKHU´(Eckert 2000:228).  The function of variation can be used to create a permanent reconstruction of the VSHDNHU¶V LGHQWLW\ RU WR WHPSRUDULO\ DLG LQ VPRRWKO\ FRPPXQLFDWLQJ DFURVV D VRFLDO EDUULHUSpeech communities are the structures that distinguish our linguistic identities and are developed E\DSHUVRQ¶VFKRLFH to express themselves in accordance to a certain identifiable construct. The evidence for the presence of agency amongst such obvious structures is demonstrated by the endless linguistic options that exist, with the speaker exercising the ability to choose an appropriate choice. In these choices, the structures can be either reinforced or reconfigured; however, in either case there is a choice being made. In East Harlem, Bourgois (2003) demonstrates how the members of the community can be observed actively choosing pride in their identities instead of temporarily switching a speech community in order to succeed outside RIWKHLUORFDOH7KHG\QDPLFVRIDSHUVRQ¶VLGHQWLW\DUHH[SUHVVHGWKURXJKWKHLUODQJXDJHVW\OHbut the meanings surrounding it are imposed upon their locales. This means that the identity a person creates and expresses is not structurally determined because it is always contextually ! $*!based. All of the meanings and situations that develop the locality of a speech community affect the people inYROYHG GLIIHUHQWO\ WKHUHIRUH WKH FRQVWUXFWLRQV DUH XQSUHGLFWDEOH ³6FKRODUV KDYHVKRZQ WKDWGLIIHUHQWNLQGVRI \RXWK LGHQWLWLHV OHDG WRGLIIHUHQW OLQJXLVWLFRXWFRPHV´ %XFKROW]2000:282).  Furthermore, the example of the dissociation of the D4 accent demonstrates a SHUVRQ¶V DELOLW\ WR QRW RQO\ VKLIW WKHLU LGHQWLW\ DQG VSHHFK FRPPXQLW\ EXW WR FUHDWH QHZmeanings around their locale as well. The D4 speakers claimed the postal area of Dublin 4 as their own and attached a new connotation to its locality. Whether a speaker embraces the PHDQLQJV DWWDFKHG WR RQH¶V ORFDOLW\ RU DFWV WR UHFRQILJXUH WKHP FRPSOHWHO\ WKH FRQQHFWLRQEHWZHHQD FRPPXQLW\¶V LGHQWLW\ ODQJXDJH VW\OH DQG ORFDOLW\ DUH HYLGHQW:KLOH WKHSHUPDQHQWUHFRQILJXUDWLRQRIRQH¶VVSHHFKVW\OHUHTXLres the understanding of communicative competence for the adoption of the variables needed, the temporary manipulation of such requires the knowledge of polite language in order to effectively communicate across social boundaries. %HFDXVH WKH ³WKHRU\ RI YDriation as social practice sees speakers as constituting, rather than representing, broad social categories, and it sees speakers as constructing, as well as responding WRWKHVRFLDOPHDQLQJRIYDULDWLRQ´(FNHUWLWLVHYLGHQWWKDWWKHVRFLDOERXndaries our LGHQWLWLHV FRQVWUXFW DUH QRW XQFKDQJHDEOH %\ FKDQJLQJ RQH¶V XVH RI OLQJXLVWLF YDULDEOHV DQGultimately, their speech style, it is possible to also change social associations to meet each SHUVRQ¶VVRFLDOQHHGV Therefore, linguistic variability, as observed through pride or dissociation can act as a mode of agency by creating a preferable locale within a specific society in order to undermine the predetermined cultural structure. What needs to be analyzed is not the speech community as a social construct, but rather the speech community as the observable part of the identities we choose. A closer examination of the agency in the use of linguistic variability could open up a greater understanding of cultures in general by re-examining the cultural aspects originally dismissed as structural.   References Ahearn, Lauren M.    2001   Language and Agency. Annual Review of Anthropology 30: 109±37.   Bourdieu, Pierre.    1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 72-95. Bourgois, Philippe   2003 In Search of Respect: Selling Crack in El Barrio. Cambridge; New York: ! %+!Cambridge University Press. Bucholtz, Mary.    2000  Language and Youth Culture. American Speech Fall 73(3): 280-283.   Duranti, Alessandro, Ed.     2004   Agency in Language. In A Companion to Linguistic Anthropology. Alessandro Duranti, Ed. Pp.451-473. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers.   Eckert, Penelope.   2000   Linguistic Variation as Social Practice: The Linguistic Construction of Identity in Belten High. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.   Hickey, Raymond.   2000  Dissociation as a Form of Language Change. European Journal of English Studies 4:3,303 15.    Hickey, Raymond.     2005  Dublin English: Evolution and Change. Amsterdam ; Philadelphia : J. Benjamins Pub. Co.  Holtgraves, Thomas.   2002  Language as Social Action : Social Psychology and Language Use. Mahwah, N.J.: Erlbaum.  Hymes, D.H.    1971  On Communicative Competence. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.  Martin, Emily.    1991 The Egg and the Sperm: How Science Has Constructed a Romance Based on Stereotypical Male-Female Roles. Signs.16 (3): 485-501.  Morand, D. A.    2000 Language and Power: An Empirical Analysis of Linguistic Strategies used in Superior±Subordinate Communication. Journal of Organizational Behavior, 21: 235±248.   Moore, Robert.      ³,I , $FWXDOO\ 7DONHG /LNH 7KDW ,G 3XOO D *XQ RQ0\VHOI $Fcent, Avoidance, and Moral Panic in Irish English."  Anthropological Quarterly, Winter 2011: 84(1): 41-64.   Norton, Bonny.   2010  Language and Identity in Sociolinguistics and Language Education. Nancy Hornberger, Sandra Lee Mckay, eds. Bristol UK: Multilingual Matters Press.   Raffles, Hugh.  1999  "Local Theory": Nature and the Making of an Amazonian Place. Cultural Anthropology 14(3):323-360. ! %"! The Dark Side of Anthropology: Vampires in Popular Culture Alexandra Tucker    ³)HZFUHDWXUHVRIWKHQLJKWhave captured our imagination like vampires... What explains our enduring fascination with vampires? What is it about the vampire myth that explains our interest? Is it the overtones of sexual lust, power, control... Or is it a fascination with the immortality of the undead? And what dark and hidden parts of our psyche are aroused and captivated by the OHJHQGVRIWKHXQGHDG´  *RGVPDFN³9DPSLUHV´  These lyrics, originally from the documentary television series Mysterious Forces %H\RQGDQGVXEVHTXHQWO\TXRWHG LQ WKHVRQJ³9DPSLUHV´E\ WKHKHDY\PHWDOEDQG*RGVPDFNare exactly the questions being posed by researchers especially in recent years as the popularity of vampires has seen a reemergence.  In the past few decades, vampire stories have simultaneously become more prominent and have changed significantly from earlier themes, culminating in recent years in the huge fan basis of stories like Twilight and The Vampire Diaries.  Why do people, especially youth, in North America, since the 1970s, find vampire stories and vampire figures so appealing?  And what implications does this have for our culture?    In this essay, I will attempt to answer these questions by discussing the anthropological theories that have proposed various reasons for the popularity of the cultural construct of the vampire. Despite the quite obvious attraction to these often romantic stories, it is important to remember that the entire population of North America does not share the exact same feelings; although, as a large proportion does, this subject is worthy of anthropological inquiry.   McClelland (2006) writes that in current Western European and North American popular culture, the vampire is likely the most persistent and recognizable symbol of evil.  In the approximately hundred years since the story of Dracula was first dreamed of, there have been ! %#!numerous stories, novels, movies and television shows depicting variations of the vampire theme (Day, 2002; McClelland, 2006).      I will first outline a brief background of the evolution of the vampire beliefs and vampire narratives as they implicate the current beliefs and popularity of vampires today.  I will follow this with a discussion of each of the main ideas suggesting why North Americans in recent years are attracted to the vampire images and stories and what this tells us about North American culture. Since legends, images, and stories are a creation produced and consumed by the population, they reflect and represent certain aspects of the culture in which they are produced.  In the case of vampires, the popularity of these beings reflects an attraction on the part of the general population and thus an aspect of culture.    Background  Evolution of the Vampire: Ancient Origins to Current Trends %HUHVIRUG  VWDWHV ³,Q WKH KXQGUHG \HDUV RU VR SRVW-'UDFXOD WKH YDPSLUH¶Vtransformation has been like a star turning into a supernova; after the gradual evolution of the vampire being over thousands of years this final chapter in the evolution has pURJUHVVHGUDSLGO\´(p.140). The belief of the vampire can be traced back through time possibly even to origins in prehistoric times.  Archaeological evidence shows beliefs in undead beings in the ancient civilizations of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, but historical data shows it was not until the 1700s that there was a notable growth of the popular belief in vampires.  Beresford (2008) suggests that this might be the reason for which many recent fictional stories tend to focus on this period onwards.  In the 17th and 18th centuries, reports of vampiric epidemics were prevalent, especially in Eastern Europe.  Beresford (2008) describes that by 1765, scientific scholars had been encouraged to find evidence to disprove vampires.  But, despite the developing scientific abilities, society refused to completely abandon the superstition and mysticism surrounding vampires.  While Western Europeans generally began to acknowledge that vampires were not real, Eastern Europeans continued to believe in the existence of vampires and were confused by the Western endeavours to logically explain vampires (Beresford, 2008).    ! %$!Some of the early proof for vampires, as it appears in historical reports includes the discovery of swollen and bloated corpses (Beresford, 2008, p.100).  Atwater (2008) lists the possible explanations that have since been used to explain early belief in vampires; these include, ³FDQQLEDOLVP VDFULILFH DQFHVWRU ZRUVKLS WKH SODJXH FDWDOHSV\ SUHPDWXUH EXULDO ERG\snatching, lycanthropy, malleus maleficarum, vampire bats, psychic vampirism, and tomb GHVSROLDWLRQ´S$URXQGWKHVDPHWLPHWKH(QOLJKWHQPHQWDQGQHZILFWLRQDOOLWHUDWXUHVXFKas by authors Lord Byron and John Polidori, served to change the popular perception vampires.  Vampires as scary monsters were replaced with romantic images and stories incorporating desire, mystery and death (Atwater, 2008).  It is also at this time, 1732 to be precise, that the WHUPµYDPSLUH¶HQWHUHGWKH(QJOLVKODQJXDJH%HUHVIRUGS$VUDWLRQDODQGVFLHQWific thinking challenged the existence of vampires, people sought ways to preserve the romanticized myths by converting the fear into a common theme of desirability (Atwater, 2008).  Because of the debate on the existence of vampires, the 18th century through to the early 20th century saw and emergence of a large body of literary work surroundings the undead beings.  The four most well known being, The Vampyre by John Polidori; Varney, The Vampyre by James Malcolm Rymer; Carmilla by Sheridan LeFanu; and proEDEO\ WKHPRVW UHFRJQL]HGRIDOO%UDP6WRNHU¶VDracula (Beresford, 2008, p. 115).  As they were no longer scary realities, vampires could be manipulated for the purposes of entertainment and consumption in Western Europe and later North America.  While Beresford (2008) acknowledges that Dracula was an important early LQIOXHQFHLQWKHFUHDWLRQRIPRGHUQYDPSLULVP³LWZDVDOPRVWXQLTXHO\WKHWKHDWUHFLQHPDDQGtelevision exploitation of the being that ultimately caused the shift towards the modern conceptioQ RI WKH YDPSLUH´ S    1RZ DFWLRQ-packed dramas and thrillers are more common than those early elements such as gloomy castles, graveyards and coffins of the early 20th century (Beresford, 2008, p. 155).      Since vampires are highly adaptable figures, they have lasted through time by responding to ongoing cultural and political transformations (Gordon & Hollinger, 1997).  Similarly, Gelder  DWWULEXWHV WKH YDPSLUH¶V VXUYLYDO WR LWV DGDSWDELOLW\ DQG VSHFLILFDOO\ WR WKH IDFW WKDWvampire figures can be adapted to urges that are beyond culture, such as desire and fear. Hallab (2009) quotes Tony Thorne by saying that vampires endure in popular culture because they are KLJKO\ DGDSWDEOH DQG DEOH WRPRUSK LQWR ³ZKDWHYHU RXU VRFLHW\ VKXQV EXW VHFUHWO\ GHPDQGV´! %%!S 'HVSLWH D ORQJ DQG ULFK KLVWRU\ YDPSLUHV EHFDPH ³QRWDEO\ SHUYDVLYH DQG WRRN RQ UHDOFXOWXUDO VLJQLILFDQFHRQO\ LQ WKH ODVW WKLUGRIRXUFHQWXU\´ 'D\SZKLFK UHODWHV WRDshift in North American culture as such issues like gender and race have been addressed.    In the last few decades, vampire fiction has expanded greatly as people began to learn from, and associate with vampires (Day, 2002; Gelder, 1994). More recently, vampire stories have become romantic tales featuring attractive men who captivate the imagination of people, especially young women (Mukherjea, 2011). Seeing as the realm of vampire fiction is continually evolving it is difficult to find many theories discussing the most recent of these stories. Most of the scholarly literature tends to deal with the past several decades and very few discuss the most recent trend of attractive vampire heroes.   Defining the Vampire The current definition of a vampire varies depending on the dictionary. The Oxford dictionary dHILQHVDYDPSLUHDV³a corpse supposed, in European folklore, to leave its grave at QLJKW WR GULQN WKH EORRG RI WKH OLYLQJ E\ ELWLQJ WKHLU QHFNV ZLWK ORQJ SRLQWHG FDQLQH WHHWK´Whereas, the Merriam-:HEVWHUGLFWLRQDU\¶VGHILQLWLRQLV³the reanimated body of a dead person EHOLHYHG WR FRPH IURP WKHJUDYH DW QLJKW DQG VXFN WKHEORRGRISHUVRQV DVOHHS´  ,Q DQ\FDVHthere appears to be a consensus that vampires are both dead yet able to act alive and that vampires drink the blood of the living. For the purposes of this essay, the definition will be refined to those fictional vampire characters since North American popular culture in the past thirty to forty years has focussed pretty much exclusively on fictional stories. Hallab (2009), for the purposes of her research, limits vampires to dead humans who have the ability to behave as though they are alive i.e. not mindless zombies (p. 2).  This definition will also serve well for the discussion of vampires in this essay as zombie stories are also popular but represent another different aspect of popular culture.   Representations of vampires can be found in one form or another in Africa, Asia, India, the Americas and Europe (Atwater, 2008, p.72).  They are not culturally specific but they vary greatly through time and across the globe often in connection to the culture that creates and perceives them.  The two most common themes, despite the multiple variations, are their liminality and their blood lust.  Since vampires are not living but are not dead, they are ! %&!somewhere in-EHWZHHQ ZKDW¶V PRUH WKHLU H[LVWHQFH LV R[\PRURQLF VLQFH WKH\ FDQ EHFKDUDFWHULVHGE\WKHSKUDVHµOLYLQJGHDG¶7KLVWUDLWLVXQLYHUVDOLQYDPSLUHEHOLHIVDVLVWKHLGHDRI EORRG OXVW ZKLFK LV FRQVLVWHQWO\ OLQNHG WR WKH YDPSLUH¶V SK\VLFDO QHHG Wo sustain their existence (Atwater, 2008).  Most often in vampire stories, being bit by a vampire is the principal way that people are turned into vampires. Barber (1988) lists four main ways of becoming a vampire that are most common amongst the many cultures that believed in their existence as well as those descriptions of vampires in current narratives.  These are:  predisposition, the idea that by leading a particularly violent life one might become a vampire or choose to become one;  predestination, in the case the individual has no control over their fate, for example children born out of wedlock might become vampires;   violence, if an individual suffers from a violent event such as murder, they might return as a vampire;  incorrect practise of burial rituals. These all link back to early beliefs in the monster of the vampire. Now, they have been appropriated to use in the fictional vampire stories. This gives the stories a sense of history and makes them more real to the viewers since they are based in historical fact.   Discussion on the Reasons for the Popularity of Vampire F iction and its Cultural Implications  Questions and Curiosity about Death  Since vampires are dead beings, the theme of death is inherently incorporated into all EHOLHIVDQGVWRULHVDERXW WKHP $WZDWHU VWDWHV³YDPSLUHVDUHDFXOWXUDOFRQVWUXFWLRQRIthe human fear of death; a means to explain not only what physically happens to the body but DOVRWKHPLQGDQGVRXORIWKHLQGLYLGXDO´S)XUWKHUPRUH%eresford (2008) describes that since vampires have historically been culturally constructed based on fear, as this fear lessened, LWZDV SHRSOH¶V IDVFLQDWLRQZLWK GHDWK WKDW FRQWLQXHG WRPDQLSXODWH WKH SRSXODULW\ RI YDPSLUHnarratives.  While science and biology show that the body typically decomposes after death, what KDSSHQVWRDSHUVRQ¶VFRQVFLRXVQHVVRUVRXOLVXQNQRZQ:KDWLVNQRZQDERXWGHDWKHVSHFLDOO\LQUHJDUGVWRDQLQGLYLGXDO¶VSRVW-mortem experience, is vague and ambiguous.  Because much of what is known about death is so unclear, people often turn to television and movies to help ! %'!establish an understanding about the phenomenon (Hallab, 2009).  In this way, people use vampire films to develop their ideas and knowledge about the meaning of death.  Hallab (2009) writes that the prime effect of vampire narratives is to create a symbolic and metamorphic way to FRPSUHKHQG DQG GHDO ZLWK GHDWK ZLWKLQ WKH ODUJHU IUDPHZRUN RI OLIH S   ³7KH YDPSLUHbecomes our own unconsciousness; accomplishing darkly that which we wish to attain; LPPRUWDOLW\´ $WZDWHUS *LYHQ WKDWYDPSLUHVKDYH WKHDELOLW\ WRRYHUFRPHGHDWKthey are popular because they have obtained eternal life which people are attracted to through ZLVKIXO WKLQNLQJ :KDW¶VPRUHVLnce vampires exist in a liminal state between this world and WKHµRWKHU¶ZRUOGWKH\SURYLGHFOXHVDVWRWKHH[LVWHQFHRIWKHµRWKHU¶ZRUOGDERXWZKLFKSHRSOHare curious.  Seeing as death is an inescapable aspect of all cultures through time, it has encouraged vampirism; and in North American culture specifically, vampire literature, movies, and television act as a way for people to determine their attitudes towards death within their cultural context.   The Power Struggle  Some of the principle feelings found within the recent vampire stories are reflective of feelings and attitudes in the North America of the late 20th century and beginning of the 21st century.  These are feelings of hopelessness and fear as well as uncertainties (Day, 2002).  In many wayV ³FKDQJLQJ DWWLWXGHV WRZDUG DXWKRULW\ DQG WRZDUG UHEHOOLRQ DJDLQVW WKDW DXWKRULW\KDYH«OHGWRDPRUHV\PSDWKHWLFWUHDWPHQWRIWKHYDPSLUH´&DUWHUS$VYDPSLUHVhave certain liberties as well as power over death, the stories become about the struggle to find freedom as well as self-acceptance for the audience (Day, 2002).  The vampire stories act to H[HPSOLI\ WKH VWUXJJOH SHRSOH IDFH DV WKH\ VWULYH IRU IUHHGRP EXW VLQFH IUHHGRP LV D ³PL[HGEOHVVLQJ´ DFFRUGLQJ WR 'D\  S  SHRSOH ILnd empathy for the vampires who they perceive as dealing with similar issues as them.  The popularity of vampire stories of recent years may stem from empathy and an association with the vampire characters who are recently more often protagonists in the stories.  As people struggle to place themselves within the larger VWUXFWXUH RI 1RUWK $PHULFDQ VRFLHW\ WKLV DOVR EHFRPHV DERXW WKH VWUXJJOH WR GHILQH RQH¶Videntity.   The Search for Human Identity ! %(! %R\HU  VD\V WKDW1RUWK$PHULFDQV¶ IDVFLQDWLRQZLWK Yampires derives from their need to explore their own humanity and identity.  Vampire stories allow for audiences to realize the scary world in which they live.  Just as people search for an understanding of death, Day (2002) describes his belief that vampiUHVWRULHVUHVSRQGWRSHRSOH¶VVHDUFKIRUDQXQGHUVWDQGLQJRIKXPDQLGHQWLW\HVSHFLDOO\³RXUGHVLUHIRUVLJQLILFDQWFKRLFHVDERXWZKRDQGZKDWZHDUH´S8).  Hallab (2009) combines these ideas by arguing that people are using vampire stories to understand the nature and significance of individuals in this frightening world.  In many ways, vampire narratives reflect on the way people relate their own identities to themselves. Vampire stories are part of a struggle to define a popular humanity in a world in which our principle structures of understanding, religion/science, and tradition/progress, appear to have broken down (Day, 2002, p. 4).  Hollinger (1997) connects the struggle of defining identity with post-modernity;  ³7KH SRWHQWLDO LQKHUHQW LQ WKH DUFKHW\SH RI WKH YDPSLUH RQH RI RXU PRVW ORQJ-lived cultural icons to function effectively as a metaphor for certain aspects of post-modernity is particularly striking. [...] postmodernism has undertaken to undermine and/or deconstruct innumerable kinds of inside/outside oppositional structures.  This deconstruction of boundaries helps to explain why the vampire is a monster-of-choice these days, since it is itself an inherently deconstructive figure: it is the monster that used to be human; it is the undead that used to be alive; it is the monster that looks like us.  For this reason, the figure of the vampire always has the potential to jeopardize conventional distinctions between human and monster, between life and death, between RXUVHOYHVDQGWKHRWKHU´ (Hollinger, 1997, p. 201).   Dealing with fictional vampires in popular culture of the past thirty or so years, scholars inevitably run into the issue of postmodernism especially in regards to the fluctuating perspectives on humanity and human identity. The stories lead viewers and readers to ask questions like who are we and where do we fit in? But they also serve to provide people with a way in which to answer the questions. Similarly, Day (2002) says that vampire stories necessarily question our humanity since they implicitly ask audiences questions about how far they would be willing to go for freedom, pleasure, and immortality as portrayed in the stories (p. 6).   ! %)! A ttraction to Difference       Since the 1970s, attraction to vampires has increased greatly thus increasing the popularity of vampire stories in general.  In some ways the attraction comes from people wanting ZKDW WKH\FDQ¶WKDYH$WZDWHU WKLVUHODWHV WRDGHVLUHIRU LPPRUWDOLW\EXW LWFDQDOVREHattriEXWHGWRDQDXJPHQWHGLQWHUHVWLQWKHµRWKHU¶&DUWHUGHVFULEHVWKDWSHRSOHDUHRIWHQattracted to vampires simply because they are vampires, which represents a cultural shift in attitudes toward the outsider or alien other (p.  27). Vampires who are naturally different from the rest of human society, are represented as outsiders who have subsequently been ingrained in public consciousness (Boyer, 2011).  This may also relate back to the increased openness towards sexuality since more variations of gender and sexual preferences are accepted by the public; therefore, people perceived as different are becoming more liked.  Additionally, vampires embody the feelings that many people currently experience as they are excluded for their difference(s) whether in regards to gender, race, or sexuality.   Sexuality  Day (2002) describes that vampire stories are increasingly portraying aspects of forbidden sexuality as an outcome of the sexual revolution and growing openness about all varieties of sexuality in North American culture.  In the second-half of the 20th century changing attitudes towards sexuality were recreated in the emerging vampire fiction and as people became more open to new ideas, vampire stories explored these ideas and helped to expand the limits of acceptable behaviour.  He describes certain elements like bites as related to kisses, and pain to pleasure, and death to love, as examples of this increased acceptance to the representation of any and all types of sex (p. 5).  Hallab (2009) disagrees by writing that since sex is pervasive through much of popular media, there is no need for vampires in that regard; therefore, vampires must have some other aspect. Furthermore, not all vampires are sexy and when they are it is because they are seen as powerful, dangerous and/or forbidden.  However, recent trends seem to disprove her ideas since the latest attractive young vampires from the Twilight films and television series The Vampire Diaries and the like, are seen as sexually attractive by many of the viewers.    Post-feminism and the Romantic Vampire Hero ! %*! In her article 0\ 9DPSLUH %R\IULHQG 3RVWIHPLQLVP ³3HUIHFW´ 0DVFXOLQLW\ DQG WKH Contemporary Appeal of Paranormal Romance, Ananya Mukherjea (2011) addresses issues which have not been studied by many scholars because the subject matter is so recent.  She focuses on the last five to ten years of vampire stories in which the figure of the vampire boyfriend has become widespread.  Boyer (2011) links this upsurge in popularity of vampires as romantic heroes, with recent trends in what she terms the post-feminist movement.  Similarly to how postmodernism reacted to modernism and worked towards new approaches, post-feminism involves the reaction against earlier forms of feminism by third wave feminists.  Her thesis, which may explain some of the reasons why teenage girls and young women are drawn in by the vampire romances, suggests that the figure of the vampire presents audiences with the old-fashioned gentlemen who offer security and stability which women crave for because of the ³FRQWUDGLFWRU\DQGFRQIOLFWHGUHODWLRQVKLSWKDWPDQ\ZRPHQKDYHWRIHPLQLVPDQGIHPLQLQLW\´(p. 3).    The reasons for attraction to the recent vampire stories may also be because of the appeal of vampires who often are young and physically attractive.    Furthermore, vampire men often have appealing characteristics such as wealth, physical prowess, and chivalrous manners coupled with an undying handsomeness.  They are fantasies that very few real men could actually fulfill (Mukherjea, 2011, p. 12).    Discussion of F indings  The themes of death, power, identity, and so on, each represent ways in which the vampire provides methods of understanding for people in postmodern North America.  As our world has become more complex and uncertain, struggles to understand such themes are consistently faced by people who turn to popular media and popular culture for knowledge.  Much like a teenage girl might use fashion magazines to determine her understanding of style, people are using fictional vampire stories to develop their ideas of life and death and situate themselves within those contexts.  This creates a quality of attractiveness in the vampire.  Furthermore, because of the recent transformation of the vampire figure, fictional vampires are often portrayed as attractive protagonists and relatable characters with whom audience members ! &+!can connect.  Their physical characteristics have also become more appealing which has further reinforced the popular attraction to fictional vampires in stories, novels and film. The fact that North Americans are being drawn to such a historically dark and dangerous character has larger meaning in terms of North American culture.  Anthropologists and other cultural theorists have suggested that these relationships with dark characters reflect a common attitude amongst North Americans as they struggle with issues of death as well as their own identity as human beings.  The theme of identity carries over into sexuality where vampires seem to represent the recent trends in the acceptance of multiple forms of identity and more specifically sexual identity.    The most recent trend in vampire fiction is that as described by Mukherjea (2011). Girls and young women have fallen victim, so to speak, to the fantasy of the handsome vampire hero. While she describes it as a result of post-feminism and consequently the struggle women face in a post-feminist society, she fails to acknowledge the simple fact that the handsome vampires are attractive to people for the very reason that they display appealing traits.  Continuing on an idea mentioned previously, people want what they cannot have. Fictional vampires as physical impossibilities are just that, something that cannot be had. They are in many ways perfect; they stay young forever, they are often strong, handsome, chivalrous, and wealthy, all characteristics that women are told they should look for in a man.    Conclusion  By studying the evolution of the vampire figure, anthropologists can gleam information about the cultures depending on how they perceive and relate to the vampire.  Most recently, North Americans have established a new and different relationship with the fictional vampire characters found in popular culture.  The fictional vampire as it is created and consumed by cultural people, becomes an object of cultural interest.  People are attracted to the figure of the vampire because it provides us with ways of understanding and coping with our uncertain world.     The vampires that have been created by North American culture reflect aspects and issues of said FXOWXUHERWKLQWKHEHLQJWKHPVHOYHVDQGDVWKHIRFXVRISRSXODUDWWUDFWLRQ³,QDQHUDRIVFLHQFHand the furious pursuit of reality in the forms of fact, technology, and power, the vampire story brings us a version of something we lack, a sense of the inexplicable and mysterious, of the ! &"!SRVVLELOLW\WKDWQRWHYHU\WKLQJFDQEHNQRZQDQGFRQWUROOHG´'D\S$VZHKDYHseen the vampire seems to be a being with enduring characteristics and therefore as the vampire continues to evolve in contemporary and future cultures it will continue to reflect the aspects of the culture that is its creator.    References  Atwater, C. (2008). 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Introduction: The Shape of Vampires. In J. Gordon & V.  Hollinger (Eds.), Blood Read: the Vampire as Metaphor in Contemporary Culture.  Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.   Hallab, Mary Y. (2009). Vampire God: The Allure of the Undead in Western Culture. Albany,  NY: State University of New York Press.   Hollinger, V. (1991). Fantasies of Absence: The Postmodern Vampire. In J. Gordon & V.  Hollinger (Eds.), Blood Read: the Vampire as Metaphor in Contemporary Culture.  Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.   McClelland, B. A. (2006). Slayers and Their Vampires: A Cultural History of Killing the Dead.  United States of America: University of Michigan Press.   ! &#!0XNKHUMHD$QDQ\D0\9DPSLUH%R\IULHQG3RVWIHPLQLVP³3HUIHFW´0DVFXOLQLW\DQG the Contemporary Appeal of Paranormal Romance, Studies in Popular Culture 33(2), 1- 20.    ³YDPSLUH´ 2011.  Retrieved December 8, 2011, from     ³YDPSLUH´ 2011. Retrieved December 8, 2011, from                                        ! &$! Polynesia as a " cultural clade: "  an archaeological approach Szymon Surma   Introduction  The Polynesian Question  Since the earliest visits of European explorers to the vast region of islands which is now known as Polynesia, frequent mention has been made of an intriguing characteristic of the local inhabitants. The famous explorer Captain James Cook was the first Western observer to notice the remarkable cultural, ethnic, and linguistic homogeneity of the Polynesians (Kirch 2000:211), which they somehow managed to maintain despite their dispersal over such a wide stretch of ocean. In the journal of his third voyage, Cook expressed his astonishment at this unique geographical and anthropological phenomenon, which was not observed in either Melanesia or Micronesia (Kirch 2000:211). Upon discovering the Hawaiian Islands, he was surprised to find them populated by Polynesian islanders who could be communicated with using Tahitian words. The same situation had already grabbed Cook's attention on his first and second voyages during the exploration of New Zealand and Easter Island. Basing his conclusions in large part upon the linguistic data mentioned above, the intrepid explorer postulated that all of the Polynesian peoples shared a common origin somewhere in the islands of Indonesia, where languages related to those of Polynesia, i.e. belonging to the Austronesian language family, are widely spoken.   Cook's pioneering hypothesis was later briefly rejected by a number of "armchair anthropologists," who believed that Polynesia had been settled in a series of superimposed "waves" by numerous migrating peoples. By the time modern anthropology and linguistics had come of age, however, the brilliant explorer's idea was reconsidered and restored to grace. Cook's intellectual heirs quickly recognized that the common origin of the Polynesian peoples had a necessary and important consequence. If the many Polynesian populations of today had once formed a common stock which had then spread throughout the central and eastern Pacific, ! &%!these modern populations must have formed in a series of branching events in which their ancestral stocks had separated. As could be inferred from sources such as the linguistic evidence, these branching events must have formed a pattern resembling a tree, with each successive branch giving rise to two or more daughter branches, their tips representing the populations of archipelagoes such as Hawaii or islands like Easter Island.   This is exactly the kind of situation which lends itself to investigation using the tools of phylogenetic analysis, a methodology derived from the biological sciences and originally used to determine the ancestry and taxonomic position of species. This method of classification examines certain characteristics of a number of entities and arranges them into a tree-like diagram based on shared similarities indicative of common ancestry. A more sophisticated variation of phylogenetic analysis known as cladistics only uses shared derived traits in drawing its trees, which are referred to as cladograms. This name is derived from the term "clade," which refers to a taxonomic unit containing only a common ancestor and all its descendants. While phylogenetic and cladistic methods were originally developed by biologists for biologists, they have also been introduced by a number of social scientists into the methodologies of their respective fields, opening up new opportunities for research.  The H istory of the Idea   Phylogenetic and cladistic techniques were first brought into the social sciences by  historical linguists, who still employ them to study the family tree of the world's languages. Some of these scholars were also pioneers in the study of the ancestry and relatedness of the Polynesian peoples. But linguists have not been the only social scientists to notice the potential of phylogenetic and cladistic analysis as tools for investigating the ancestral ties  between human populations. Similarly, they have not been alone in their dedicated study of the Polynesian family tree. Many anthropologists have also come to realize the great utility and importance of phylogenetic and cladistic techniques in the investigation of the story of humans in general, and that of the Polynesians in particular. This applies not only to the biological anthropologists (e.g. Cavalli-Sforza 2000), but also to other member of their profession (e.g. Sahlins 1958:ix, quoted in Kirch 2000:214, Vogt 1964:10-13, quoted in Kirch and Green 2001:15). Culture has joined language as one of the attributes of humanity which, at least in the stated opinion of some ! &&!anthropologists (e.g. Kirch 2000:211), is amenable to investigation using phylogenetic and cladistic methodology. The case of Polynesia has received a particular degree of attention from these scholars (e.g. Kirch 2000, Kirch and Green 1987, 2001). The analyses which they have undertaken have led them to believe that Polynesia, in addition to forming a linguistic and genetic clade, most likely also represents what could be called a cultural clade. These three Polynesian "family trees;" genetic, linguistic, and cultural, can be combined to illustrate Polynesia's status as what Kirch (2000:211) has referred to as a "phyletic unit," i.e. a historically meaningful category.     A number of archaeologists have also joined their colleagues from other braches of anthropology in embracing the importance of phylogenetic and cladistic techniques (e.g. Buchanan and Collard 2007, O'Brien and Lyman 2002). Not least among their number have been the specialists in the archaeology and prehistory of Polynesia (e.g. Kirch 2000, Kirch and Green 1987, 2001). From the perspective of phylogenetic methods, archaeology has the marked advantage in comparison with cultural anthropology of dealing with material culture. Many commonly excavated types of archaeological artifacts can readily be classified and measured, yielding data which are particularly suitable for use in the construction of cladograms. This puts archaeology in a highly favourable position for investigating the ancestral ties between the various Polynesian peoples; a position which it has only recently begun to fully exploit (e.g Bellwood 1987, Kirch 2000).   The goal of this paper is to investigate the degree to which the concept of Polynesia as a cultural clade fits the currently available archaeological evidence. The latter will also be compared with the findings obtained using the methodologies of historical linguistics and biological anthropology. The possible processes responsible for the origins of the clade-like cultural pattern seen in Polynesia will be examined as well. The question of Polynesia as a cultural clade will also be put in a more general context by investigating the geographical distribution of cultural clades on the global scale and discussing the theoretical implications of the Polynesian case in particular, as support for the use of cladistics in anthropology and archaeology is far from unanimous. It will also be argued that the problem of phylogenetics in anthropology is independent of the controversy over "cultural evolution" in all its forms. ! &'! Archaeology and O ther Sources of Evidence for a Polynesian Clade  The evidence for the status of Polynesia as a cultural clade is of necessity primarily archaeological in nature. No other discipline possesses a methodology which allows it such freedom of access to the deep past of human cultures. For this reason, as has already been mentioned above, the cladistic view of Polynesian societies has been much more popular in archaeological circles than in those of cultural anthropology. In elucidating the cladogenetic nature of the settlement of Polynesia in general, however, archaeologists have found staunch allies in historical linguists as well as biological anthropologists. It is therefore highly fitting that a review of the archaeological evidence for the status of Polynesia as a cultural clade be accompanied by a survey of the corroborating evidence for the existence of matching linguistic and genetic Polynesian clades as well. This is so despite the often stated truism that culture, language, and genes need not covary, since in the case of Polynesia the match between these three independent sources of evidence is so close as to virtually rule out the likelihood of any significant coincidences (see e.g. Kirch 2000:213-215, 305-307).   The archaeological evidence suggests that the ancestral Polynesian culture diverged from the outgroup formed by Fijian society at some time between about 1000 and 500 BC (Bellwood 1987:52). Fijian culture can be considered an outgroup since it is most likely the last Melanesian society to split off from the line leading to ancestral Polynesia. Towards the end of the period outlined above the ancestral Polynesians forsook the manufacture and use of ceramics, while the Fijians merely abandoned the Lapita style for one of their own (Bellwood 1987:51). This shift followed upon the heels of one which had occurred about half a millennium before, when the former had begun to manufacture a workaday style of pottery known as Polynesian Plain Ware in place of the decorative Lapita ceramics used by their ancestors (Kirch 2000:220). The archaeological sites at which these transformations are documented lie in the archipelagoes of Tonga and Samoa, as well as some neighbouring islands, which together form what is known as Western Polynesia. These cultural changes suggest that the last common cultural ancestor of the entire Polynesian cultural clade was a Plain Ware culture located in this area (Kirch and Green 2001). Not surprisingly, studies by linguists as well as biological anthropologists have agreed in classifying the languages and populations of these islands as closest to the "root" of the ! &(!Polynesian family tree as well as to their counterparts from neighbouring Fiji (Bellwood 1987:26,29, Kirch 2000:213-214). The archaeological evidence discussed above has been combined with these findings to locate the ancestral Polynesian homeland in Western Polynesia  (Kirch and Green 2001).   The next great branching event in the formation of the Polynesian cultural clade was the settlement of the heartland of what is known as Eastern Polynesia. This cultural region is centered on the archipelagoes of the Society Islands, the Tuamotus, and the Marquesas, and also encompasses the three vertices of the "Polynesian triangle;" Hawaii, Easter Island, and New Zealand (the latter lying geographically to the west of Western Polynesia). The archaeological evidence suggests that the first three of these island groups were originally settled from Samoa, as the locally excavated round-ended stone house platforms and basalt adzes with triangular cross-sections are not found at Tongan sites, but are very commonly encountered in archaeological and ethnographic Samoan contexts (Bellwood 1987:53). It is very likely that these features of material culture were originally developed in Samoa when the culture of the latter separated from that of Tonga (Bellwood 1987:52-53), in what was the first branching event within the Polynesian cultural clade. This scenario is well-supported by the linguistic evidence, which groups the Samoan language rather than the Tongan in a close relationship with those of Eastern Polynesia (Bellwood 1987:29,53). Hence it was entirely warranted for Kirch and Green (2001) to deduce that the legendary homeland known from the oral traditions of all the Eastern Polynesians, Hawaiki, lay somewhere in the islands of Western Polynesia. As an aside, the concept of Hawaiki could itself serve as a cultural indicator of the unity and distinctiveness of Eastern Polynesia.    Soon after their original breakaway from Samoa, the cultures of Western Polynesia underwent a series of changes in the assemblage of their artifact types which signified their formation of another branch in the Polynesian cultural clade. The major innovations which signaled this shift were the tanged adze and the pearl shell fishhook, which took a number of forms developed for various functions such as angling and trolling (Bellwood 1987:57). Also included in this group of diagnostic Eastern Polynesian artifacts were the sperm whale-tooth pendant (Bellwood 1987:61,63) known to the Maori, to whom it was symbol of high rank, as rei ! &)!puta, and the stone food pounder (Bellwood 1987:67), used for the preparation of an Eastern Polynesian staple: breadfruit paste. Perhaps the most spectacular distinguishing characteristic of the Eastern Polynesian cultures was the marae (Kirch 2000:215), a ceremonial platform of stone which served as a temple and gathering place for the community. The pattern of cultural branching described above is corroborated by the conclusions of linguists and biological anthropologists, who group Eastern Polynesian languages and populations together to the exclusion of all others (Bellwood 1987:26,29).   The delineation of the further branching patterns which later subdivided Eastern Polynesia is problematic due to two cultural processes which affected these island societies since their formation. In the archipelagoes which lay close to each other by Polynesian standards, such as the Society Islands, the Marquesas, and the Tuamotus, a relatively high level of contact between the neighbouring island groups made the diffusion of new styles and technologies comparatively easy (Kirch 2000:243-244). For this reason, the degree of differentiation in the terms of material culture within the core area of Eastern Polynesia represented by the above three archipelagoes remained relatively low throughout prehistory and up until European contact. Despite this situation, the distinctiveness of each archipelago in terms of its material culture was not entirely swamped by this contact (Kirch 2000:304).   In contrast to the situation described above for the central archipelagoes, the three parts of Eastern Polynesia most distant from this core, namely Hawaii, New Zealand, and Easter Island, were all but entirely isolated from the remainder of Polynesia after brief two-way contacts. For this reason, as well as due to the unique ecological conditions in each of these locations, the cultural development of the Polynesian societies there proceeded along entirely independent and separate trajectories. The wooden marae of New Zealand and the famous stone statues of Easter Island will suffice to illustrate this phenomenon. Due to this high degree of independent evolution and adaptation to new and unique conditions, the origins of the first settlers of these islands are very difficult to determine archaeologically. It  is likely, however, that the early settlers of Hawaii belonged to the same sub-branch of the Eastern Polynesian group as did those of the Marquesas, and that the ancestors of the New Zealand Maori split off from the group centered on the Society Islands. This hypothesis is supported both by some archaeological ! &*!evidence, such as fishhook and adze typologies (Emory and Sinoto 1965, quoted in Kirch 2000:244), and by genetic and linguistic clues (Kirch 2000:213-214). Only the position of Easter Island in this pattern is still uncertain due to its extreme geographical isolation and the consequently high degree of independent cultural development on this island (Kirch 2000:275).  The Origin and Development of the Polynesian Clade  The archaeological evidence described above seems to confirm the hypothesis that Polynesia is indeed a cultural clade, i.e. a group of related cultures possessing a common ancestor to the exclusion of all other cultures (Kirch's "phyletic unit"). Furthermore, it can be inferred from the data provided by archaeological research that this cultural clade is, like most of the clades known from biology, composed of a nested set of smaller clades. The first of these internal clades contains the cultures of Samoa and Eastern Polynesia to the exclusion of Tonga, and is also matched by an identical linguistic clade. The second internal clade contains all the cultures of Eastern Polynesia, and is likewise supported by linguistic evidence. The subdivisions of this clade are hard to elucidate based on the archaeological evidence alone due to the high degree of cultural contact between the central archipelagoes. The combination of archaeological, linguistic, and genetic evidence does, however, suggest that two subdivisions of the Eastern Polynesian clade exist centered around the Marquesas and Tahiti, the former including the settlers of Hawaii and the latter those of New Zealand.   The successive branching events which led to the formation of such a nested set of clades demand an explanation. It can most likely be found in the very pattern of settlement which was practiced by the Polynesians. The archaeological record as described above combined with oral traditions (Henry 1995) suggests that when an island was colonized and full advantage had been taken of its opportunities, some of its younger and more adventurous inhabitants led by a junior chief built a voyaging canoe and headed out into the unknown. Those of these parties which managed to reach uninhabited islands settled there, sometimes after returning home with the news, and the pattern began again. The colonizers of each "daughter island" formed a particular cultural, genetic, and linguistic subset of the population of the "mother island" (this situation is known to biologists as the "founder effect"). The new population became more and more distinct in all of these respects through isolation, random drift and gradual adaptation to the new ! '+!conditions of the "daughter island" (Kirch and Green 1987). This distinctiveness was less pronounced on those islands which were in frequent contact with others (e.g. Mangareva), and more evident on those which were almost completely isolated (e.g. Easter Island). In this manner, the branching pattern of clades within clades which is so characteristic of Polynesian culture grew slowly but inexorably in complexity, built up by successive voyages of discovery and colonization.  The Global Distribution of Cultural Clades  The confirmation of the status of Polynesia as a cultural clade has highly important implications for the study of prehistory in other regions of the world. Firstly, the question must be asked whether the case of Polynesia is a typical or anomalous one on the global scale. It must be determined whether our current difficulties in defining cultural clades for other regions of the world reflect their actual absence in these areas, or merely their masking by large numbers of diffused or regional cultural traits, as was the case in the core area of Eastern Polynesia. If the former is true, then this would suggest the relative primacy of horizontal cultural diffusion between unrelated cultural groups over the vertical transfer of cultural traits from "mother" to "daughter culture," at least in most geographical regions and contexts. If the latter turns out to apply, then this would mean that although cultural clades are a relatively widespread phenomenon, they are usually too deeply hidden to be easily uncovered using our current archaeological knowledge. Such a situation would simply leave their discovery as a task for future researchers equipped with more advanced techniques and methods. In general, the problem seems akin to the one facing linguists working in areas (such as parts of Asia and Africa) where all the local language families possess phonological features such as tones or clicks, thus obscuring their ultimate origins.   It has been proposed in the literature numerous times (for reviews of some of these hypotheses see Bellwood 2001, Diamond and Bellwood 2003) that cultural clades which  covary with linguistic ones (and sometimes genetic ones) can be found in many areas of the globe. These clades are most frequently linked with language families such as Niger-Congo (most conspicuously the Bantu group), Uto-Aztecan, Indo-European, and Afro-Asiatic, which are mainly associated with agriculturalists (Bellwood 2001, Diamond and Bellwood 2003). The ! '"!Austronesian language family, to which the Polynesian languages belong, has also been frequently cited as an example of this phenomenon. The correlations between language and archaeologically determined culture can never be said to be 1:1 (Bellwood 2001:182), as the Polynesian example above illustrates, but many tentative links have been and continue to be made. The controversy over this topic seems far from settled as of today.   Most of the language families discussed above are located on large continental landmasses. It seems, therefore, that an island setting may not be a necessary precondition for producing the branching pattern characteristic of cultural clades, and that such situations may occur in continental contexts as well. The actual archaeological data, however, is often so ambiguous (Bellwood 2001) that it can be interpreted either as supporting or opposing the presence of a cultural clade. Furthermore, nowhere is the branching pattern as clearly visible in the archaeological record as in Polynesia, where each branch of the clade is found in a clearly defined geographical region bounded by hundreds of nautical miles of ocean.   It may, however, be finally concluded that it is not merely islands but uninhabited and isolated islands which are such fertile ground for cultural clades. This conclusion can be elucidated by a comparison of the situations which are known from Polynesia and Micronesia. In the case of Micronesia, which lies relatively close to the Philippines and the Moluccas, the local populations are extremely diverse in cultural terms and speak languages belonging to two separate branches of the Austronesian language family (Kirch 2001:211). It is currently hypothesized based on both archaeological and linguistic evidence that the settlement of Micronesia involved four successive waves of population movement (Kirch 2001:211); at least one originating from the Philippines and a minimum of one from northern Melanesia (Kirch 2001:172-173). Thus Micronesia does not form a monophyletic cultural grouping (Kirch 2000:166), but rather a polyphyletic one. The relative proximity of Micronesia to the Philippines and the short distances (by Pacific standards) between the individual islands made it possible for many different groups to colonize the region and subsequently engage in highly intensive intercultural contacts (Kirch 2001:191-193), which made the picture even more complex. In sum, it can be inferred from the Micronesian example that even in island locations, it takes a rather special set of geographical conditions to give rise to a true, monophyletic cultural clade which ! '#!can be readily detected in the archaeological record. The situation on the continents promises to be still more convoluted, and the recovery of cultural clades from these contexts would be a highly challenging task.  The Theoretical Importance of the Polynesian Cultural Clade  The discovery of the Polynesian cultural clade is not only an immense success story for modern archaeology; it is also a development of profound importance to archaeological theory. The controversy over whether phylogenetic and cladistic models developed in the life sciences for the purposes of biological systematics can be fruitfully applied in the social sciences as well has a long and troubled history. It is particularly relevant for archaeology since the latter deals with the artifacts of material culture, which can be classified with more rigor than the kinship systems of cultural anthropology. Despite the large and increasing number of published archaeological studies using phylogenetic methods (e.g. Buchanan and Collard 2007), there are still many scholars, both anthropologists and biologists, who are opposed to this line of inquiry. This opposition is usually connected to a larger set of objections against the introduction of biological methodologies into the social sciences, which is exemplified by the attacks on sociobiology. Within archaeology these objections often take the form of an opposition to the two related subfields of human behavioural ecology and cultural evolutionary theory (for an excellent review of these approaches and their shortcomings see Shennan 2008). It has been argued that these approaches, in their attempts to bring culture and evolution together, do a disservice to both. This criticism has been voiced by some biologists (e.g. Temkin and Eldredge 2007) as well as archaeologists.   It can be argued, however, that researchers can apply phylogenetic and cladistic methods to material culture without becoming embroiled in the thorny problems of the relationship between culture and evolution. Cladistics itself, as Brower (2000) has pointed out, does not require the idea of evolution as its theoretical foundation. The only necessary conditions for cladistic analysis to be applicable and valid are, according to Brower, a hierarchical pattern of branching for all the entities being studied, the establishment and study of a sufficient set of characters for classification to be possible, and the application of Occam's Razor. These conditions are at once necessary and sufficient for cladistic analysis to be applicable in any ! '$!research situation. Thus, the question of whether cultures or their material correlates evolve or not is orthogonal to the problem of whether they can be classified using cladistic methodology, and need not even be raised in this research context.   As to Brower's three conditions and their relevance for the use of cladistic analysis in the context of material culture, Occam's Razor is a general epistemological principle which can be applied to any research project. The characteristics of archaeological cultures or their material exemplars, such as the presence of certain artifact types in the case of the former or of a certain metric or non-metric trait in the case of the latter, allow certain characters to be established which permit classification to proceed. The hierarchical branching pattern is the only problematic criterion, since the development of cultures and their features through time does not always produce such a picture due to the occurrence of significant horizontal transfers and discontinuities in cultural transmission (Temkin and Eldredge 2007). Thus the hierarchical branching pattern is the only limiting condition on the application of cladistic methodology to material culture and the archaeological record. This does not, however, apply to other phylogenetic models, which do imply evolution. In their case, we must first establish whether a group of entities evolved (in the sense of descent with modification) to be able to construct a phylogenetic tree. For this reason, cladistics seems to be a much more promising approach to material culture than the classical phylogenetic approach. This situation provides the rationale for my decision to abandon the term "phyletic unit" used by Kirch (2000) and to replace it with the label of "cultural clade."   Conclusion  The cultural homogeneity of Polynesia has been known since the times of Captain Cook, and has been the subject of many anthropological studies. The role of archaeological evidence in the elucidation of the pattern underlying this homogeneity, i.e. the status of Polynesia as a cultural clade, has been an essential one. Due to the research conducted there by many archaeologists, Polynesia is now the single widely acknowledged "phyletic unit" in anthropology. This acknowledgement was also aided by the many findings of historical linguists and biological anthropologists working in this area. The combined efforts of many researchers from various subdisciplines of anthropology, archaeologists not least among them, have also ! '%!managed to elucidate the processes which formed the Polynesian cultural clade. These processes are deeply rooted in the mechanism of exploration and colonization which was practiced in ancient Polynesia, and finally resulted in a nested pattern of clades.   The discovery of the Polynesian cultural clade is important not only as an immense achievement of modern anthropology and archaeology, but also as the linchpin of deeper theoretical issues. The questions of whether cultural clades are globally widespread or rare, as well as whether cladistic and phylogenetic techniques have a proper place in the toolkit of an archaeologist are still the subjects of acrimonious debate. The Polynesian case can, it seems, illuminate these issues by showing that cultural clades form in a highly specific set of conditions which are best exemplified by, but possibly not restricted to, uninhabited and isolated islands, and that the application of cladistics in archaeology need not depend on the archaeologist's acceptance or rejection of "cultural evolution" in any of its numerous forms.   References Bellwood, P.  2001 Early Agriculturalist Population Diasporas? Farming, Language, and Genes.   Annual Review of Anthropology 30:181-207.  Bellwood, P.  1987 The Polynesians: Prehistory of an island people. Thames and Hudson,   London.  Brower, A. V. Z.  2000 Evolution is Not a Necessary Assumption of Cladistics. Cladistics    16:143-154.  Buchanan, B. and M. Collard  2007  Investigating the peopling of North America through cladistic analyses of   Early Paleoindian projectile points. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 26(3):  366-393.  Cavalli-Sforza, L. L.  2000 Genes, Peoples, and Languages. University of California Press, Berkeley.  Diamond, J., and P. Bellwood  2003 Farmers and their Languages: The First Expansions. Science 300:597-603.  Henry, T.  1995 Voyaging Chiefs of Havai'i.DODPDNnj3UHVV+RQROXOX+, ! '&! Kirch, P.V. and R. C. Green,   1987 History, Phylogeny, and Evolution in Polynesia. Current Anthropology   28(4): 431-456.  Kirch, P. V. and R. C. Green  2001 Hawaiki, Ancestral Polynesia: An Essay in Historical Anthropology.    Cambridge University Press, New York.  Kirch P. V.  2000 On the Road of the Winds: An Archaeological History of the Pacific Islands   before European Contact. University of California Press, Berkeley.  O'Brien, M. J., R. L. Lyman, Y. Saab, E. Saab, J. Darwent and D. S. Glover  2002 Two Issues in Archaeological Phylogenetics: Taxon Construction and   Outgroup Selection. Journal of Theoretical Biology 215:133-150.  Temkin, I. and N. Eldredge  2007  Phylogenetics and Material Cultural Evolution. Current Anthropology 48(1):   146-154.  Shennan, S.  2008 Evolution in Archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 37(1):75-91.                  ! ''! Fertility Beliefs: Ancient Egypt and Abroad Shan Siddiqui     Ancient Egyptians venerated fertility as an indispensable core belief. A near universal precept of their fertility belief is the principle that life must come from life. Consequently, the characteristic female nature of birth contained special animated significance. Motherhood and regeneration manifested in subtle yet distinct fashion in all Ancient Egyptian religion throughout time. Goddess imagery and texts reveal multivariate relationships between worshippers, their divinities and the environmentally determined cultural specializations that created them. This essay will explore Ancient Egyptian beliefs in regard to fertility and divinity and then the cross cultural similarities and contrasts with those of its neighbours.   Fundamentally, Ancient Egyptians were concerned about two overriding priorities in life; a secure and prosperous income and the continuance of life. This tells us is that environment was a critical determinant for specializations that eventually developed into religion. H. W. Saggs explains the basis of all ancient beliefs to stem from a common origin in explaining incomprehensible natural events, phenomena and human relationships (Saggs 1989, p.17). The family is the most basic human relationship. Explaining how offspring came to be is a fundamental aspect of Ancient Egyptian fertility and their continuous religious life. Ancient humans probably expected and prepared for new additions to their families and observed reproductive interactions in the natural world. Human, plant and animal reproduction and regeneration necessitated explanation. They naturally desired to differentiate and harness positive increases from the opposite which is death. Natality and mortality constants motivated the earliest humans to believe in a rudimentary system of belief in numina, unseen life orchestrating forces that could either help or harm them (Saggs 1989, p.269). For the sake of simplicity, these numina can be further isolated into the spiritual underpinnings of humans seeking intercession for an assured food supply and the continuation of prosperity.  ! '(! The basic premise behind supernatural fertility beliefs is categorizing and ordering the natural environment surrounding human habitation. The positive care for human life that could be gleaned from specific numina, perhaps a living thing, sacred place or object of meaning eventually developed into a separate abstract identity for it to be worshipped. Where and when the place and/or object separated from the force behind it was the beginning of the personified divine fertility belief in Ancient Egypt. The way that the categories of people in Ancient Egypt were ordered into families and lineages, based on their ties to the land, had an impact on their beliefs. Families were large and class relations were very broadly defined compared to religion. Their religions were remarkably open ended reflecting the elaborate and diverse family arrangements and interdependencies between people. In this system, Ancient Egypt initially possessed no strictly codified recognizable goddesses reflecting their local cult centered GHYHORSPHQW 7\OGHVOH\  S  $UUDQJHPHQWV LQWR µGLYLQH IDPLOLHV¶ KDSSHQHG DIWHUEgyptian unification under centralized rule. The emergence of centralized rule and the importance of family status as a cultural institution are central to understanding the specific way that belief existed in the Egyptian context. An example of this is codified belief is the king being WKH³VRQ´RIWKHJRG+RUXVZKLFKIXQFWLRQVWRFDWHJRUL]HDQGRUGHUJRGKXPDQUHODWLRnships.   (J\SW¶VXQLTXHJHRJUDSKLFVLWXDWLRQLVHVVHQWLDOWRFULWLFDOO\H[DPLQHWKHGHYHORSPHQWof their fertility beliefs as well as those of divinity. Religion and environment were inextricably linked in that the earliest conditions that ensured a relatively stable continuity of life were based on agropastoralism, utilizing the natural environment of flora and fauna that provide the greatest yield in the local conditions. Geographic barriers prevented foreign threats from interfering and largely insulated Egypt from attack. At the same time, the Nile valley was productive enough to preclude expansion in search of greater subsistence resources. Human sedentarism and intensification of food production accelerated change that led toward social complexity, myth and ritual (Scarre 2005, p.16). The first of these rituals may have been the veneration or at least DFNQRZOHGJHPHQW RI D JUHDWHU KXPDQ GLPHQVLRQ LQ UHOLJLRQ WKH SUH IRUPDWLRQ RI µGLYLQHIDPLOLHV¶ SRVVHVVLQJ FKDUDFWHULVWLFV RI KXPDQ IDPLOLHV 7KH XSSHU Neolithic was a period of extant localized beliefs coalescing at the forefront of accelerating social and environmental pressures (Connah 1987, p. 12). A resultant process of this is the shift from specific numina to ! ')!abstract animal (or organic) associated supra-human constructs. A further refinement of the original botanic and animal constructs was partial or full anthropomorphization into the familiar divinities of the Ancient world. These gods and goddesses were striking in that they represented a break in tradition from associating the unexplainable with a concrete object, place or concept such as a numinous sacred tree, or numinous lightning. Spreading ideas and intensification of contact and trade in cosmopolitan local areas, then states, then a wider Mediterranean world delinked the physical place of veneration with the metaphysical conception of veneration. Worship to secure fertility evolved from superstition by people of a certain place, worshipping tangible things, into the intangible idea of worship (Saggs 1989 p. 272). The newly portable religious traditions were free of earlier constraints of isolation but susceptible to standardization from elite practitioners holding geographic monopolies.   From this background, it make sense that a long religious pre-prepartory process was at work among the Ancient Egyptian people who exploited the Saharan fringes in semi pastoral fashion before full settlement into the Nile valley. The veneration of specific local fertility goddesses was carried inward with influxes of opportunistic population seeking greater regularity in food sources (Fuller 2004, p.327). These people also brought a long tradition of cattle herding pastoralism, the benefits of which solidified the African cultural practice recognizing both male and female lineages to keep cattle wealth in the family (Tyldesley 1994, p. 40). The social power of women coming from this long held and still practiced lifestyle would have contributed to the early identification of cattle based wealth (and abundant fertility) with the goddess Hathor. Besides birth, death was also a fascinating yet confounding role in Ancient (J\SWLDQUHOLJLRQZLWKFKDUDFWHULVWLFUROHVDVVLJQHGWRJRGVDVZHOODVZHOOZLWKLQWKHJRGGHVV¶purview. Isis and Nephthys were goddesses who fulfilled double roles as life arbiters in birth rituals and also as part of the death procession to protect entry into the burial state (Tyldesley 1994, p. 263). Goddesses, although having many distinctly maternal and fertility related functions in Ancient Egypt, were likely amalgams of several initially localized divinities. Successful popular female divinities enjoying later state sanction may have reached career high points by accreting both male and female characteristics initially belonging to unrelated divinities. The Ancient Egyptian religious landscape of goddesses and fertility beliefs can be compared to a well used chalkboard; whatever is written on top or erased, contains persistent ! '*!traces of what came before.      3RO\WKHLVWLF$QFLHQW(J\SWZDVREYLRXVO\LQIOXHQFHGE\LWVQHLJKERXUV¶LGHRORJLHVDQGreligions. From a common origin, religious traditions diverged to such an extent to become unrecognizable to each other. Furthermore, the open-mindedness of Ancient Egypt may have impacted the religious development of other groups as well. Of course, some degree of convergent evolution may be responsible for similarities but overtly Egyptian and foreign ideas have a tendency to self identify in the historical record (Johnston 2004, p.417). Cultural groups in close proximity to ancient Egypt shared similar fertility goddesses who undoubtedly represented a similar progression of religious ideology from the incipient era to later forms. These cultural complexes possessed differing levels of centralization, territorial ambition and cultural precepts of militarism and domesticity. Some official religions may have attempted to enforce patriarchic elitism and privilege over religion and ritual, as is the case in Mesopotamia (Wiggermann 2004, p.396). Encapsulation of religion, and closed systems contrasted with the Egyptian model, in part because they were used to further exclusion. Ancient Egypt existed in an environment favoring a single emergent society based on a narrow environmental opportunity. However, a strong inclination for north south division in later fertility beliefs essentially proves that the state veneered their beliefs onto the prehistoric cult of the local fertility goddess or god.    Babylonians and associated Mesopotamian groups differed from ancient Egyptians because of a greater emphasis on formal relations between gods and goddesses in a hierarchic system based on proximity to the city where they were based. Mesopotamian beliefs reflected prevailing politics where gods were city specific and their relations with others divinities reflected the influence and shifting power relations between city states (Wiggermann 2004, p. 396). A female divinity comparable to the Egyptian examples and nearly universal in Mesopotamian religion was Inanna, later known as Ishtar. The political realities of Mesopotamia, with its patchwork of city states and multiplicity of ethnicities and tribal lifestyles may have led WRWKHFUHDWLRQRIWKLVVHHPLQJO\FRQIOLFWHGGLYLQLW\,VKWDU¶VURle was patroness of love and war simultaneously. Less stability existed in the Mesopotamian core region than the fringes of Central Anatolia and the Tarus/Zagros mountain ranges where a harsher environment restricted contact (Saggs 1989, p. 396). The legacy of continuous unrest, shifting alliances and expansion ! (+!as a hedge against agricultural variability may have led to, at least in part, the primacy of a love and war goddess over one of exclusive fertility. Some anecdotal evidence of a fertility goddess existing before the Mesopotamia love/war link was proposed by Mellart in his excavations of Çatal Hüyük in the 1960s (Scarre 2005, p.276). A positive correlation between high centralization and religious stability versus political fragmentation and religious manipulation from elites to motivate further conquest is a possibility that deserves further research.   -DPHV0HOODUW¶V FODLPVRI WKH µJRGGHVV WKHRU\¶ DQGDPDWULDUFKLFSDVW IRU WKH UHJLRQhave been widely disputed for research bias (Balter 2005, p. 39). Feminist archeologists such as Marija Gimbutas interpret an earlier formulatory period in all cultures dominated by fertility goddesses (Balter 2005 p. 266). Unfortunately arguments for a universal pre historic religion utilize broad social generalizations that do not account for the great environmental variability over the region that weaken any claims of a coherent regional commonality in the first place. 0HOODUW¶VH[FDYDWLRQLVVLJQLILFDQWQRQHWKHOHVVEHFDXVHLWXQFRYHUHGDVLJQLILFDQWGLYHUJHQFHLQbeliefs in the core and the fringes of Mesopotamia. Since Ancient Egypt possessed only low levels of climactic variation over its entire territory, then this model cannot be applied. Add in the high degree of political centralization in Ancient Egypt and it strengthens the argument that there was little social opportunity for significant religious divergence to emerge. On the contrary, environmental determinism theorizes that the narrow climactic confines and limited territory to expand into is a model for Ancient Egyptian religious specialization. Advocates of Environmental determinism in archaeology tout the marked religious integrity of highland and fringe Mesopotamia such as the Hittites, who rejected syncretizing outside divinities. The Hittites, like the (J\SWLDQVUHWDLQHGPXFKRIWKHLURZQLQGLJHQRXVWUDGLWLRQVLQWKLVFDVH³VWRUPDQGPRXQWDLQ´GHULYHGnuminous divinities (Collins 2004, p. 404). Environment also restricted the Hittites to a narrowly ranged climactic confine and limited territory in comparison to other Mesopotamians.    The Ancient Phoenicians, Canaanites and Judeans were religiously diverse, but held beliefs that were not incompatible with the Ancient Egyptian views on fertility. Phoenicians were in constant trade relations with Egypt and experienced a different relationship than the other two groups. Relations were generally friendly between the commercially prosperous Phoenicians and ! ("!ancient Egypt (Markoe 2000, p.122). Cultural diffusion may have been facilitated by the ties of commerce and exchange since the two groups interests did not conflict with each other (Markoe 2000, p. 124). Religion was a form of currency that went both ways. The Phoenicians shared some traits of Egyptian syncretism and tolerance may have preserved many local variations of goddess fertility cults. From Malta to the Balearic Islands, Phoenician colonization preserved local traditions as well as instituted the codified religion and ritual surrounding their primary divinities which originated far away in the northwestern Levant (Markoe 2000, p. 130). The divinity that the Ancient Egyptians could best recognize as one of their own was Astarte. This goddess was not without problems, since her divine association was with the planet Venus (which was already taken in Egypt) and she possessed a distinct warrior goddess mythology as well as that of love and fertility. In Egypt, the adoption of Astarte was unusual since it appropriated an essentially foreign idea and adopted a new role for the goddess. Rather than an identifying with Venus like Isis or warfare like Neith (she usually carried weapons) or Sekhmet, Astarte became the patroness of the Sea (Kemp 2005, p. 296). Canaanites and Judeans had less of an impact than the former peoples since their beliefs were somewhat more exclusive. The Judeans supplanted local beliefs with a supreme God which made the particular variety of religion unappealing to polytheists in Egypt. As well, religious reformers in the Judean tradition reinforced their beliefs that any fertility cults or preexisting beliefs could be subordinated under the direction and purview of the only, supreme god (Saggs 1989, p.17). The Canannite and Judean religions were contrasting with the Egyptians because their supreme gods (for the Canaanites) or God (the Judeans) behaved little like people and more like royalty. The Egyptians FHUWDLQO\ WROHUDWHG WKHVH JURXSV¶ FORVHG EHOLHI V\VWHP EXW WKDW WUDGLWLRQ ZDV QRW VKDUHG 7KHJudeans especially believed that their God was unlike any others, not particularly identifiable with imagery or gender (Smith 2004, p.403). It can be concluded that these were very different expressions of belief although they had similar end functions.   The Cretan Minoan civilization was an early Aegean example of social complexity and may have possessed a divine explanation for fertility like Ancient Egypt. The two share early histories of isolation from other groups but distinctly differing agricultural methods, climactic conditions and seafaring strategies. For what is known about the environmentally influenced strategies of the Minoans, such as trade and technology, their beliefs are not well known (Scarre ! (#!2005, p.350). The lack of evidence hampers any useful comparison to Ancient Egyptian beliefs. Excavations on Crete during the past 100 years have failed to provide a level of detail comparable to that of the Etruscans, early Greeks and Rome. The Minoans language remains undeciphered and the most conclusive evidence of their religious practice are mountaintop and cave shrines of indeterminate use (Morinatos 2004 p. 206-208). Examining the later Greek and Roman civilizations gives a fuller picture of what might have equated between Minoan religion and that of Ancient Egypt. Mainland Greece is definitely the site of indigenous religious development as well as that of Interpretatito Graeca, which is the blending of other religious traditions (Bourgeaud 2004, p. 393). If the antecedents religions of Greece were like the later YHUVLRQV WKDQLW LVUHDVRQDEOHWRDVVXPHWKDW WKH\GLGQRWGHILQHµIDPLO\UHODWLRQVKLSV¶ OLNHWKHEgyptians when organizing their pantheon (Wiggermann 2004, p. 396). A religious system existing without the interlinkages of parents, spouses, children and siblings among each other was unthinkable to the ancient Egyptians. The limited carrying capacities of the Greek KRPHODQGVZHUHYHU\GLIIHUHQW IURP WKHKLJKFDUU\LQJFDSDFLW\RI(J\SW¶V1LOH ULYHUYDOOH\RU0HVRSRWDPLD¶V7LJULV(XSKUDWHVSODLQV DGDSWDWLRQ0DLQODQG*UHHN IDPLOLHVZHUHXQGRXEWHGO\segmented and fractured by the environmentally induced expansions fanning out in colonial waves. Since the system that the earliest Greeks used did not compartmentalize or organize fertility responsibilities exclusively to a single or group of related divinities, their system was much more susceptible to polyphony. The Ancient Greeks, as well as italic Etruscans would have allowed any if not all god and goddesses to fulfill whichever roles were required. In this way, a divinity could be primary in one instance and other characteristics could be secondary but meaningful or fully independent of the others. Familiar yet foreign goddesses were also fair game for veneration to suit individual tastes including Egyptian Isis and Phoenician Uni-Astatre (Haynes 2000, p. 129, 284). In this way, the Aegean peoples had Artemis, Aphrodite and Detemer, Gaea, Cybele, Rhea, not all necessarily goddesses but important nonetheless for venerating fertility.   Some consideration should also be made towards interactions with the Mohenjodaran Indus Valley Civili]DWLRQDQG(J\SW¶VRZQGHHS$IULFDQURRWV7KH ,QGXVYDOOH\PD\QRWKDYHhad a direct spiritual personification of fertility beliefs or rituals, but the character of their urban lifestyle must have included some contemporary contact with Ancient Egyptian religion through ! ($!trade and diffusion. Dr Robert Coningham proposes a water based fertility belief in the Indus valley civilization with the act of immersion (bathing) a central ritual reflected in the over 700 baths at the Mohenjodaro site (Coningham 1999, p. 53). A reverence for water as a goddess or nonliving representation of fertility is clearly within the realm of possibility. Even more interesting is the possibility that the Indus valley civilization (or any other) may have taken a personified fertility figure, such as a goddess, and divested spiritual power back into the numinous force of water. Egypt contained the very important Nile River, but never directly related worship to the river, or its representation as a god or goddess. More inquiry into the Mohenjodarans may reveal some insights into the nature of the relationship of the riverine environment to religion that could be applied to the study of the Ancient Egyptians.  Using the example of New Age religion today, environmental pressures, societal unrest, and financial instability could have shifted emphasis from the codified formal religion to WKH VSLULWXDO -DFNLH 3KLOOLSV FKDUDFWHUL]HV $QFLHQW (J\SW¶V FRQWLQXHG LQWHUHVW LQ 1XELD DV Dcolonial endeavor, even the building of intricate temples and institution of local Egyptian styled administration (Phillips 2004, p.409). Whatever the motivations behind Ancient Egyptian encroachment into Nubia, it is a critically important mirror for Ancient Egypt due to the cultural and environmental similarities. It is likely that further excavations will reveal that Ancient (J\SW¶VQHLJKERXULQJVRXWKHUQFLYLOL]DWLRQVGLVSOD\FRPPRQDOLW\LQIHUWLOLW\EHOLHIV7KH.HUPDculture is useful when comparing the Egyptian imperial policy in the New Kingdom which essentially seeded the Egyptian state religion in the region in addition to local trajectories of cult worship and divinity (Phillips 2004, p.409). There is little hard evidence to prove the existence of fertility goddesses that both predynastic Egypt and Nubia shared, but later evidence preserved in South Arabian and Axumite carved texts at Yeha indicate that fertility cults devoted to a moon (also identified as Venus) celestial identified goddesses persisted (Connah 1987, p. 75). The compatibility of Ancient Egypt and Nubian belief contributed to long lasting use of Egyptian style religious imagery in the region after the decline of dynastic Egypt. The antecedent for Ancient Egyptian fertility beliefs may have been common in Nubia. With the loss of Ancient Egyptian sovereignty in the late period, Nubia may have be the only region that preserved its own indigenous fertility cults.   ! (%!People can have very different ways to express core beliefs which are very similar at their most basic. Worship and belief are far from rational manners, but they are definitely dependent on environment, economic, technological and social motivations. From the Ancient Egyptian perspective, diversity of belief and practice are unsurprising. However in this cross cultural study, human agency has produced subtle yet differing expressions of fertility through religion. Understanding the nature of gods and goddesses or lack thereof is impossible without first understanding the underlying environmental basis for it to develop into its complex form.   References Balter, Michael. 2005. The Goddess and the Bull. London: Free press.  Bourgeaud, P., 2004. Deities and Demons In: Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press.   Collins, B. J., 2004. Asia Minor. In: Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press.   Coningham R.A.E. 1999. South Asia. In: Scarre, C., (Ed.) 1999. The Seventy Wonders of the World. London: Thames and Hudson.  Connah, Graham., 1987. African Civilizations. Cambridge: Cambridge university press.  Fuller, D. Q., 2004. Crop Cultivation: The Evidence. In: Shillington, K., (Ed.) 2004. Encyclopedia of African History: Volume 1 A±G.  London: Taylor & Francis.  Haynes, Sybille. 2000. Etruscan Civilization. London: The British Museum Press.  Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press.  Kemp, Barry J., 2005. Ancient Egypt Anatomy of a civilization. 2nd edition. London : Routledge.  Markoe, Glenn E., 2000. The Phoenicians. London : The British Museum Press.   Morinatos, N., 2004. Greece and Rome. In: Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press.   Phillips, J., 2004. Egypt, Ancient: New Kingdom and the Colonization of Nubia. In: Shillington, ! (&!K., (Ed.) 2004. Encyclopedia of African History: Volume 1 A±G.  London: Taylor & Francis.  Saggs, H. W. F., 1989. Civilization Before Greece and Rome. Boston: Yale University Press.  Scarre, C., (Ed.) 1999. Seventy wonders of the Ancient world, London: Thames & Hudson.  Scarre, C., (Ed.) 2005. The Human Past: World Prehistory And The Development Of Human Societies. London: Thames & Hudson.  Smith, M. S., 2004. Judea. In: Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press.  Tyldesley, Joyce., 1994. Daughters of Isis. Women of Ancient Egypt. London: Viking. Wiggermann, F., 2004. Mesopotamia. In: Johnston, Sarah Iles. (Ed.) 2004. Religions of the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press. 


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