Self-Immolation as a viable protest form in Bulgaria, 2013

Below is a paper that I wrote for my resistance and social movements course this semester. I am new to this section of anthropology, and a little insecure about it. That being said, if this is interesting to anyone I would love feedback, both critical and constructive about the theories, opinions, and examples that I use in the paper. Overall, I would also love if anyone has something that they contest regarding the information I gathered on the protests, and their feelings about Bulgaria and social movements.

Self-Immolation as Resistance in Bulgaria

On May 25, 2013 I visited Varna, Bulgaria. By then the protests that had heated the winter in Bulgaria had subsided, but they had left behind their material traces, and a feeling of expectation remained in the air. In the evening I went to the city center. The day was bright and warm, and by the end of May, Varna is usually beginning to fill with tourists and weekenders heading to the beach. Instead of the expected crowd I was met with an unusual quiet. Very few people were in the park next to the Obshtina (city hall). In front of the Obshtina was a tent, a few posters, and a large pile of rocks. The posters were mostly in memory of Plamen Garonov, an activist who had set himself on fire during the February protests, and the pile of rocks were in reference to a famous poem by the revolutionary, Ivan Vazov, who worked to free the Bulgarians from Ottoman rule in the late 1800’s. In the poem the mayor of a village gives his daughter to the Ottoman Turks, rather than allow her to be with a poor Bulgarian, an act so evil that it brings drought and famine on the village. In retaliation the people of the village build a pile of stones near the village, and with each stone curse the mayor, until he ultimately has to flee the village. The final refrain of the poem speaks of how the pile of stones continues to grow even after the mayor flees and warns that the people will remember the wrongs that have been committed against them:

От тогава веч минуват Месеци, години, Много случки и преврати Видеха очи ни. А грамадата расте се Неусетно, тайно И камънте върху нея Фърчат непрестайно. Че сюрмашки сълзи клети Лесно не изсъхват, Злите спомени в душата Скоро не заглъхват...

Since then have passed Months, years, Many incidents and revolutions Our eyes have seen. And the cairn grows Imperceptibly, secretly And the rocks upon it Fly without end. An unfortunate man’s wretched tears Do not easily dry, Evil memories in the soul Are not soon forgotten.

(Vazov, 1936)

When I left Bulgaria in August of 2012 I had not seen a nation that was poised on the edge of revolution. Being a volunteer with a United States governmentally funded program, I was required to stay far away from the topics and issues of politics, but I suspected that political unrest strong enough to displace the prime minister within a year would have been felt in all aspects of life. Instead what I felt was a general buzz of dissatisfaction, not clearly directed towards any one thing, and definitely not violent or capable of inspiring people to movement. In February 2013 I was not shocked to hear about the widespread energy protests being held in Bulgaria. In my experience Bulgarians have a tendency to protest often, in a peaceful and organized fashion. What shocked me was the news that the protests had taken a turn towards self-inflicted violence. Over the course of two months seven people set themselves on fire in various cities around Bulgaria, only one of whom survived. Due to these extreme acts, coupled with some of the largest protests that Bulgaria has seen since 1996, the Prime Minister, Boyko Borisov, along with his cabinet and the mayor of Varna, resigned. What was more unsettling than the actual events unfolding in Bulgaria was the way in which the world accepted the news, as if self-immolation and the resignation of an entire government was common. Although international news sources mentioned the events in Bulgaria no one seemed particularly concerned or even overly interested in the outcomes of the political protests. In this paper I will examine the causes of the protests more in depth, including proposing reasons for the use of self-immolation in Bulgaria, and briefly discuss the future potential of the protests.

Background

On January 28, 2013 protests began in the Southwest city of Blagoevgrad over unusually high energy bills. Bills of some residents doubled and tripled from the previous year’s expenditure and many Bulgarians did not have the money to pay their bills, which included high taxes and fees in addition to a raise in the unit-price of electricity. Over the next month protests spread to the entirety of Bulgaria with thousands of protesters gathering in Varna, Plovdiv, and the capital of Sofia. Protest activity included marching, blocking public streets, throwing eggs and vegetables at public buildings, and burning electricity bills. Protesters made varying demands including the removal of the Bulgarian government, nationalization of energy companies, and withdrawal from the European Union. The most extreme acts of protest included seven Bulgarians lighting themselves on fire. They each set themselves on fire for varying reasons, mostly unclear to the public and media, and of the seven only Dimitor Dimitrov remains alive. Of the seven cases only that of Plamen Garonov took on popular political significance both nationally and globally as his death was compared to that of Jan Palach’s self-immolation in Czechoslovakia in 1969. Garonov had a history of political activism, specifically against the holding corporation TIM (Thought to be a Mafia-run company influencing the private and political spheres in Bulgaria) and the supposed corruption of the recently resigned mayor of Varna. The other protesters were less well known and various sources cite personal financial and relationship issues as the reasons for their self-immolations.

In order to better understand the current situation leading to the protests in Bulgaria it is necessary to briefly review the political history and process of privatization of energy production since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. By tracing the production and consumption of energy in Bulgaria, similar to how Timothy Mitchell discusses the move from coal to oil in “Carbon Democracy,” the hegemonic and repressive forces in contemporary Bulgaria can be made clear. Although an in-depth analysis of energy production is beyond the scope of this paper, a brief analysis is necessary in order to understand the spark that ignited the protests last winter. Bulgarian energy distribution was privatized in 2004, with three foreign companies, CEZ from the Czech Republic, E.ON from Germany, and and EVN of Austria becoming the main suppliers. The privatization was a necessary compliance for acceptance into the European Union, and competition was expected to keep energy rates low for consumers. However, each company distributes power to a different region in Bulgaria which frees them from a competitive structure. Recent price increases were caused by the state regulatory agency allowing for the implementation of a flat rate for electricity consumption as opposed to the previously used tiered system, which significantly raised the costs of electricity for customers who consume less, while lowering the overall rate for customers who consume more. (The Power Brokers) In addition taxes and fees have been implemented by the private companies in order to cover expenses associated with the modernization of the energy grid in Bulgaria and to cover the losses incurred due to energy theft. However, some of these expenses are suspected of including luxury corporate transportation for the foreign companies and other expenses that the people of Bulgaria do not feel responsible for. This is in addition to the cost of switching Bulgaria to more sources of renewable energy and closing two nuclear power plants as per European Union demands. Although Bulgaria has the lowest energy prices within the EU, Bulgarians also have the lowest overall income at around 400 euro per month, making the ratio of the bills to monthly income unbearable for many consumers. (G.K.)

Although the protests in Bulgaria started specifically against high electricity costs they quickly became more general, covering many grievances including corruption within the government and the poor standard of living that many Bulgarians face relative to other European Union member states. As protests continued organization was arranged in major cities such as Slivin and Sofia. On February 20, 2013 Prime Minister Boyko Borisov stepped down from office, along with his cabinet. A letter, drafted by the Civic Initiative Committee and claiming to be the voice of the Bulgarian people, was presented to the president on February 24, calling for constitutional changes.  On March 6 Varna mayor Kiril Yordanev left office. On May 12 special elections were held. There was a particularly low voter turnout, of 53%, and although Borisov once again received the most votes no party achieved a majority in parliament, and several parties fell below the 4% threshold requirement for representation in parliament, leaving about 25% of voters unrepresented. (Dimitrova) Currently protesting has stopped although several claims have been made that the protests will continue unless changes are made.

Self-Immolations as an Acceptable Global Discourse

Before examining the general resistance in Bulgaria I want to consider the extreme action of self-immolation that occurred during the period of these protests. The extreme violence makes these acts difficult to consider, and I find myself faced with a similar issue that Emma Goldman highlighted a hundred years ago in her essay, “The Psychology of Physical Violence.” If an academic writes about violence with understanding or intelligence then they are accused of “eulogizing” it, and if they express sympathy with the actor, then they can be considered an accomplice. (Goldman) Because the violence was self-inflicted on the personal bodies of the actors, a bit of sympathy is allowable, however, with the desire to maintain academic credibility the expression of emotion that such action can provoke is limited in this paper. It is exactly that limitation, in both academia and popular media, that I wish to explore, along with offering reasons as to how and why self-immolation is a meaningful and allowable action within the discourse of resistance.

I will begin by an action of my own: the naming of the seven victims of self-immolation. The choice of the title, “victim,” is something that I still debate. While not wanting to strip the men of their agency in the act of self-immolation, I want to highlight the tragedy of their loss against the backdrop of the larger social forces that popularize self-immolation as a valid choice of protest. I chose to use the term victim only because there does not exist a term which fully encompasses such an act of self-harm.

Victims of Self-immolation, and date:

February 18: Trayan Marechkov

February 20: Plamen Garonov

February 26: Ventsislav Vesilov

March 13: Dimitor Dimitrov

March 18: Simeon Simeonov

March 22: Todor Yovchev

May 1: Ventsislav Kozarev

This list is important only because it has not been publicly and prominently compiled. Newspapers, both local and international, tended to report each incident as, “a man from...” as opposed to using the names of the victims. Although this is a standard practice to protect the anonymity of the victims and their families, the question is raised of whether anonymity is necessary when the action was an obvious choice to draw attention to a situation, and what purpose the de-identification of these men serves.

Sherry Ortner’s article, “Resistance and the Problem of Ethnographic Refusal,” is useful in understanding the problems and purposes of de-identification. Although Ortner’s article was a critique on ethnographic style, some of her concepts can be applied to popular media. Ortner argued for an ethnographic stance founded on Geertz’ concept of thickness, including ideas of exhaustiveness, holism, and contextualization. (174) She went further to state that three practices which limit thickness when dealing with resistance studies are sanitizing politics, thinning culture, and dissolving subjects. Dissolving subjects can be done in two extremes, either by dissolving individuals into a group that has a unitary identity and consciousness, or by giving an individual so much complexity that their political will is stripped of them. (Ortner, 174) The lack of identification of these men manages to accomplish both of these dissolutions at once. On the one hand, by simply referring to the victims as, “a man from Bulgaria who lit himself on fire,” the individuals are reduced to a single action, which can be claimed by various political groups in support of the general protests. The men are assumed to have the same political goals and identity of a larger, homogenous group of protesters, which, in reality, does not exist. On the other hand, some articles vaguely refer to various, non-political hardships in the lives of the victims, creating a complexity of will that waters-down the action. In either case, the identity of the man, along with his will, is not sought by popular media. This de-identification serves to perpetuate the romance associated with resistance as opposed to giving actual agency to the victims, which would be useful in understanding their motives for self-immolating, as well as adding to the understanding of the general protests in Bulgaria.

There was one victim whose name was well-known and used often. That was Plamen Garanov. Garanov was the second to light himself on fire, in the streets of Varna. He was a well-known photographer, sports enthusiast, and political activist, 36 years old. Garanov’s popularity and activism before the protests, along with his young age, and that his name means, “flame,” made him a logical choice for the poster-child of the self-immolations. His action was compared to that of the student, Jan Palach, who lit himself on fire to protest the Soviets in Czechoslovakia in January, 1969. This comparison shows a certain level of acceptance, and precedence, of self-immolation during Eastern European winters.

The precedence of self-immolation, which is becoming more globally public, if not more prevalent, is an important aspect to understanding why self-immolation is a choice for protest. According to Tilly, the prevailing repertoire of collective action constrains the path of social movements, and influences its outcome. (Tilly, 25) Although the creative actions of a human are not limited to repetitions of past actions, they are influenced by what has been done before, especially if it was successful. A certain dialogue of action becomes acceptable in the political arena through years of precedence. Actions become symbols that can be placed into categories of valid resistance, or unacceptable terrorism. Self-immolation, through the precedence of Jan Palach, and many other immolations since the 1960’s has become an action that is proven to gain international attention, and is considered a valid form of protest.

Valid forms of protest are increasingly limited by the global hegemony that monopolizes force as a propriety of the state. According to Warner, violence is an illegitimate force, and if a state is strong, then more forms of force and injury are regarded as violent unless they are delegated to officials. In this way the state is able to monopolize force and delegitimize violence in civil life. (Warner, 45) Because protesters are not public officials their actions are considered civil action, despite their political intent, which greatly limits the amount and types of force that they can use. The use of force is not only limited by the local government and state, but internationally through a popular discourse against violence and for human rights. On a global scale resistance, in order to gain legitimacy, must adhere to certain rules of engagement. The global War on Terror over the past decade has helped to solidify those rules of engagement. Whereas historically people could have potentially gained awareness for their cause through acts of destruction of public property, and violent revolutions, those actions now fall under the umbrella of terrorism. In the act of naming a resistive action as terrorism it is stripped of reason and considered illegitimate.  In order to call attention to their cause people begin to destroy their own property but ultimately any material destruction can be looked on as an overall public loss, delegitimizing the action. This leaves a single material form of resistance as globally acceptable, which is the destruction of self. One would think that at this point a person would not choose force, or would cease to resist, but Goldman posits the eruption of violence as inevitable, like a thunderstorm, when a society is continually oppressed. (Goldman) Self-immolation not only serves to affirm the autonomy of the self within the public sphere, but also to draw sympathy towards a cause within the acceptable rules of engagement.

Bulgaria as a Space of Resistance

Bulgaria has a strong history of resistance. Beginning with the Byzantine rule in the eleventh century, a peasant uprising in the thirteenth century, and five-hundred years of Ottoman rule until the nineteenth century, Bulgaria has constantly been a space where people have had to find creative ways to live their lives, and maintain their culture, beneath oppression. Throughout the years both overt and covert resistance have had their place, but Bulgaria has not had a large amount of social movements. The question is whether this winter’s protests will actually achieve a change in the basic culture and politics of Bulgaria, or simply fade as another historical moment of overt resistance.

In order to understand the possibility of Bulgarian resistance to invoke change in Bulgaria it is necessary to first consider resistance generally. I will take ideas concerning overt and covert resistance from James Scott, and blend them with concepts of social movements from Charles Tilly in order to form a more complete picture of what resistance is. Covert resistance includes acts of everyday resistance and infrapolitics, whereas overt resistance are acts of force that blatantly stand out against oppression. (Scott). Some would argue that overt and covert resistance is a continuum of expression, unable to coexist, but Matthew Gutmann argues against the danger of dualism, claiming that covert and overt resistance work together, alternate, and transform into each other. (77)  He proposes that overt resistance provides more room to maneuver for those who are similarly inclined but more hesitant to act. (Gutmann, 80) In this model the protests in Bulgaria are a form of overt resistance, which followed a stage of covert resistance wherein individual Bulgarians complained about the corruption and practiced avoidance in politics, but did not act out against their leadership. However, where does the concept of social movements fit into this model? I believe that social movements involve both covert and overt resistance, but go beyond resistance to include a focus on change. Tilly focuses on the sustainability of social movements, stating that social movements are sustained interactions between changing sets of challengers and authorities. (Tilly, 25) Arturo Escobar rounds out this definition by connecting social movements to cultural struggles and positing them as a struggle over the control of historicity. (397, 400) He claims that social movements go beyond a struggle of economic survival and are the defense, creation, and reconstruction of cultural meanings. (Escobar, 412) In other words social movements should be sustained through a period of different sets of actors and focus on construction rather than survival or deconstruction. Social movements utilize both covert and overt resistance, but while resistance focuses on short-term changes within the oppressive force, social movements focus on long-term changes to the culture that encompasses both the oppressed and oppressor. In this light Bulgarians have a tendency to focus more on resistance and less on social movement.

In Bulgaria resistance has a higher traditional value than change. Bulgarians take a certain pride in their history of repression. When I speak with Bulgarians most of them will advance a similar notion that it is very important that Bulgaria was repressed by the Ottoman Empire, and yet was able to maintain its language, culture, and ethnic identity as Bulgarian. This is a view expressed by younger Bulgarians as well as older generations, with varying degrees of nationalistic loyalty. Similarly to the importance of endurance through repression, most Bulgarians will identify the resistors during the period of Ottoman rule, the poets Ivan Vasov and Hristo Botev, as well as the revolutionary Vasil Levski, to be the key representation of heroism in Bulgaria. It is important to note that these men were famous for their resistance in the form of creating engagement among Bulgarians through writing, speaking, and fighting physically for freedom, not for restructuring Bulgaria after they won their freedom. It is because of this that I claim Bulgarians have a fascination with resistance rather than actual change, wherein resistance is fetishized as freedom. Bulgarians desire to protest, but do not to act to make changes in their situation. Whether this is because the path to change is without precedent, or because Bulgarians do not actually desire change is unclear.  

The pile of rocks that is left in front of the town hall in Varna is a telling material reference to these national heroes, and the historicity of Bulgarian resistance. Ivan Vazov’s famous poem, Gramada, presents an option for protest which is particularly effective because it is entwined in cultural history, making it nearly impossible for city officials to remove without causing public backlash and, in a way, disassociating themselves with a cultural hero. This use of a historic cultural symbol also shows that Bulgarians maintain a certain loyalty with their cultural roots, it is only the actions of the current government which they wish to contest. Erica Weiss makes a claim that we should not look for resistance only on the fringes of hegemonic dominance, but within the heart of the hegemony as people are capable of internalizing certain aspects of hegemony while rejecting others. (Weiss, 586) I argue that Bulgarian’s strong sense of loyalty to the Bulgarian cultural identity prevents them from creating a social movement, while allowing them to resist against a government which they do not view as authentic to the hegemonic ideals.

Another reason that a social movement cannot be achieved through Bulgarian resistance is the complexity of the resistors. The reasons why individuals join together to protest against a dominating force are usually complex and varied. Some join for moral reasons and others are inspired by financial need. Still others join simply to be part of a movement or to make themselves politically relevant within their power structure. In the case of the Bulgarian protests, a common interest of high-electricity bills started the action, but it quickly grew in complexity and by the time that it was a nationwide protest the reasons for protesting, as well as the desired outcomes of the protest were varied. Because the protests started as general protests, as opposed to an organized event, there was a power vacuum created by many voices expressing discontent without concrete demands being made. At that point many leaders could have stepped in to act as the voice for the protests. Committees were formed in several of the main cities and national assemblies were held regarding the protests. However, there was concern among those in attendance at these meetings that there were political representatives in attendance, working to sway public opinion. On February 24 a letter was presented to President Rosen Plevneliev from the Civic Initiative Committee making various demands regarding politics, energy, heating, and water. (Sofia Globe)

When studying resistance it is dangerous to take such demands as the voice of the people that they claim to be. To do so is to fall into Ortner’s trap of sanitizing politics by ignoring the internal politics of a group of resistors and constructing a romantic depiction of only two conflicting forces, the oppressors and the oppressed. (Ortner, 177)  The internal politics of the oppressed group in Bulgaria involves issues of racism, class, and urban versus rural. Although all of these political groups may be able to unite momentarily in an act of resistance against, “corruption,” the complexity of the internal politics prevents the group from agreeing on the construction of cultural reform, making the emergence of a social movement unlikely.  

The last reason that Bulgarians are more likely to show a single show of resistance rather than concentrate on construction is due to a limiting global discourse similar to the one discussed above. Mainly this discourse takes the form of the occupy movement, which began with, “Occupy Wall Street,” and has grown to, “Occupy Everywhere.” The occupy movement, which I argue is not actually a movement so much as a brand of resistance, has become globally fashionable. Within the movement protestors are called upon to resist oppression and to call attention to corruption and unfairness. What the movement lacks is any form of cultural construction. It is a movement of deconstruction. As this has become the global trend Bulgarians were able to use the momentum of the occupy movement, but once their government resigned there was no plan in place to make changes, resulting in the eventual re-election of GERB as the main party. Although a liminal space was created between the resignation of the Prime Minister and the special elections, it was not acted upon. The relatively low voter-turnout shows a lack of trust in the political system and yet alternatives are not being suggested. I believe that this is partially because of the popular fascination with resistance. Michael Brown highlights a theoretical hegemony within academia dominating research and blurring the complexity of situations, (729) and I argue that the occupy movement has brought that same hegemony into a public space.

Conclusion

This paper has explored the protests last winter in Bulgaria as a form of resistance against what is viewed by many people as a corrupt government. It was my desire to highlight the desperation behind the general protests, and more specifically, the seven acts of self-immolation that occurred during this time of protest, in order to give some reason as to why self-immolation has become not only a valid form of resistance, but one of the only forms of valid physical resistance left in Bulgaria. I then discussed the historical precedence for resistance in Bulgaria and discussed the barriers to creating cultural and political change within the country as an aspect of hegemonic loyalty and global limitations on the discourse of construction. Ultimately it is my desire to call attention to the lack of emphasis on constructive options for public masses, and similar to Michael Brown’s call for academics to look beyond domination and power in their studies (734) I call for a focus on expanding the global vocabulary of resistance to include options of cultural and political construction rather than leaving self-immolation as the best option for political expression.

Works Cited

Brown, Michael J. 1996. “On Resisting Resistance.” American Anthropologist, 98(4): 729-749.

Dimitrova, Antoaneta. 2013. “Bulgaria’s Low Election Turnout is a Symptom of the Growing Mistrust of the Ruling GERB Party and the Country’s Political System.” The London School of Economics and Political Science retreived from: http://blogs.lse.ac.uk/europpblog/2013/05/16/bulgaria-elections/ on 03.06.2013.

Escobar, Arturo. 1992. “Culture, Practice and Politics: Anthropology and the Study of Social Movements.” Critique of Anthropology, 12(4): 395- 432.  

G.K. 2013. “Protesting About Power Prices.” Eastern approaches: Ex-communist Europe in The Economist. Retrieved from: http://www.economist.com/blogs/easternapproaches/2013/02/bulgarias-electricity-prices on 03.06.2013.

Goldman, Emma. 1917. “The Psychology of Physical Violence.” Anarchism and Other Essays. Retrieved from womenshistory.about.com

Gutmann, Matthew C. 1993. “Rituals of Resistance: A Critique of the Theory of Everyday Forms of Resistance.” Latin American Perspectives, 77(20):74-92.

Mitchell, Timothy. 2009. “Carbon Democracy.” Economy and Society, 38(3): 399- 432.

Ortner, Sherry B. 1995. “Resistance and the Problem of Ethnographic Refusal.” Comparative Studies in Society and History, 37(1):173-193.

The Power Brokers. 2013. “Bulgaria Loosing Power.” Retrieved from: https://reportingproject.net/powerbrokers/sub_country05.html on 03.06.2013.

Scott, J.C. 1990. Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts. New Haven; Yale University Press.

Sofia Globe. 2013. “Bulgarian Political Crisis: Protesters’ Demands, in English.” retrieved from: http://sofiaglobe.com/2013/02/25/bulgarian-political-crisis-protesters-demands-in-english/ on 03.06.2013.

Tilly, Charles. 1984. “Social Movements and National Politics.” Statemeaking and Social Movements: Essays in History and Theory. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 279-319.

Warner, Michael. 2003. “What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive?” Public Culture, 15(1): 41- 54.

Weiss, Erica. 2011. “The Interrupted Sacrifice: Hegemony and Moral Crisis Among Israeli Conscientious Objectors.” American Ethnologist, 38(3): 576- 588.

The things you own.

Being constantly on the move for the past 29 years has allowed me to reflect on this concept quite often. Every time I have to pack up my things and move them across the state, or country, or world, I get the opportunity to consider each object, and to weigh its role in my life against the effort that I expend on its upkeep. Right now Nikola and I are starting to get ready for our move back to Bulgaria. He came here with most of the stuff that he owned, and I had no small amount either. Since we have been here we have accumulated a lot in the way of dishes, small furnitures etc. Now we have to consider each thing and question whether it is worth it to move it back to Bulgaria with us, or to leave it here and replace it when we get to Bulgaria, or to leave it out of our lives forever. These are little things that should not be a big decision- clothes drying rack, shoe rack, brushes I don't use now that I am dreading my hair etc. However, I come from a background of scarcity that promotes hoarding things once I actually have them. So, even though I have not used that round brush in months, it is still there, because hey, it cost me 10lv and I *MIGHT* need it someday.

I remember the conversation that I had with Cyrano back in the day when we were taking her jeep on a road trip. We discussed ownership and responsibility. I am not sure if we were talking more about the car or about our relationship, but now I am concentrating just on the material side of the conversation, and not on the interpersonal allusions within it. Everything that we purchase is a tiny investment. Some things we don't even realize that we are investing in, while others have immediate value. However, the investment is not just one of finances. It is an investment of the space that they take up in your home, and an investment of the time that they take out of your life- in upkeep and actual use. Eventually, when you buy things you have to ask yourself whether they are actually adding to your life, or are distracting you from living a happy life by adding more responsibility without enough of a return. A bike was a great investment for me. I get such joy from it, despite the pain of having to store and move it. A bag of beauty supplies accumulated over the years really just serves to make me feel guilty everytime I look at it, and to consider my ideals of beauty. Do I really need nailpolish? But do I really not need it?

My camera decided to have a little freakout over the sand on the beach, and my first instinct was to start looking up new compact dslr's. I didn't even stop to really consider how often I use my camera and whether I actually believe in this false, documented life that is currently popular. Once upon a time I decided that I was against cameras, as they pull you out of the moment that you want to capture, but now I realize that cameras have become so ingrained in society that I cannot imagine not being able to upload my pictures to facebook and "let everyone know what's going on." Why?

Part of me is really aching for the minimal life again. Maybe I have been out of the field too long, I am not sure. But more and more often I find myself daydreaming of a life where I do not check my email more than once a week, and where I do not even have lights in most of my house, so that I can enjoy the rhythm of the world rather than conquering it. I dream of not owning a cell phone, and of gardening and doing yoga and talking with the same people every day instead of trying to hold ties that are stretched out over the atlantic and two continents. I somehow don't think that Nikola would appreciate that lifestyle though. Something tells me that he needs his computer/technology in order to be happy, which makes sense. Taking away his computer would be a lot like taking away my writing. The only difference is that I am able to extract my expression from technology whereas he does not get to choose his medium. 

Alternative Ways of Being

I think that I have spent most of my life unsatisfied with society. This dissatisfaction has been a driving force in me. It caused me to do things that many people would never dream of- from moving to Guam on a whim, to working in a conservation corps, summers at summer camp until the age of 24, joining the Peace Corps, moving to Turkey, getting married within six months of meeting my husband- everything except the last little bit is not even strange to me, and it is the fact that I got married at all rather than getting married so quickly that surprises me. The people that I tend to surround myself with also live similar lifestyles- fast, hard, and a little quirky. I move around, and I keep trying new things because deep down I am terrified that the things I hate about life will never change. Now, I am not exactly frozen with pessimism over this. I realize that the only way a change can come about is if people act out the change they want to see, and voice their discontentment with the status quo, often and loudly. For change there need to be people who take risks, and go against the grain. People who may even do illegal activities, and try to build an alternative rather than just destroy what is already in place. I realize this and so I do my part, as best as I can. I am not particularly social. I am not a charismatic leader. But in many ways I am a revolutionary. In my refusal to submit to the social pressures to behave, and my constant questioning I am not only seeking a solution, but I am protesting, quietly, the things that I cannot stand. Now, I know that this sentiment will be accepted by most of my friends, and sometimes it is even supported. But it is a scary thing to vocalize and post on the internet. It is scary because once it is posted there is no going back.

There is a certain safety on being an invisible rebel. A weekend warrior for change. It is an important safety. It keeps you employed. It keeps you out of jail. It keeps you safe from the retaliation from the state. No, not just the state, but the conservative standards that people constantly adopt. People say that they don't want to live in a 1984 society, and that capitalism protects us from that. Well, no, it didn't do its job because your neighbors and friends are still willing to rat you out, right down to your room 101, rather than risk association with a deviant.

Ohhhh... that is what this is all really about. Deviance. Standard acceptable deviation. I am a deviator. The thing is that I KNOW many other people are deviators. In fact, I think that if everyone was honest about their feelings and desires for just a year or so, there could be huge changes in this world. Until that day, while we live in fear of self-exposure, nothing will happen.

I am taking a class on social change. It is depressing. We are studying a different form of protest and change every week. Last week it was co-operatives and surplus. This week it is primitivism. I am not sure what the answer is, and I know that nothing will ever be perfect, but I am sure that it is just going to get worse until people start talking, start acting, how they want the world to actually be. Otherwise, living, just wont cut it.

Irony of the desirable

The other day I had topick up the second half of my course reader for my modern theory course. I bemoaned the constant need to purchase reading material during University, when people have some of the least ammounts of money in their lives, and then put 50tl in my pocket, happy that I was in Turkey and not the US, where used textbooks cost at least $80. I went to the photocopy store, and asked for the course packet. I am still not sure that I got the correct one, but it cost me a total of 4tl. That equates to about $2. Now, it was just half of the course reader, so compare that to $40 instead of $80, and it still holds up as amazing. I went home completely happy, thinking that is how texts should be purchased. The reasons why I like it:

1. It is cheap. Students cannot always afford those super glossy pages that American universities demand.
2. It gives the instructor greater control of the course material. The material that we read tends to be more journal articles and fewer books, which we could rightfully print from the University's subscription to the online version of journals. The books that we read tend to be originals, which are often out of copyright anyways, so they are allowed (legally) to be free. Course packets allow instructers to mesh together highly relevent aterials instead of teaching to a textbook that does not quite fit the needs of the course, or making students buy multiple textbooks and constantly access journals on their own. 

I was just thinking of how forward thinking Turkey is in offering these course packets when I arrived at my Middle East politics course. The instructor felt the need to apologize. He requested a bibliography for our midterm, and yet none of the articles included in our reader had the necesary information to complete a standard bibliography. Why? Because all of the photocopy shops are illegal, and do not have the right to print these materials. The shop that he had chosen had been raided by the police and fined, so they had to get rid of all of the cover pages that had the correct bibliographic information. Hah! The thing that I was loving about my school isn't actually allowed. But just like so many things in Turkey, they do it despite the law. 

Now, I am not usually one for rule-breaking. Those of you who know e well know that I have what would almost be considered a fetish for rules. I love the safety and security that I feel within a well-outlined structure of rules. I love knowing what the social expectations are, and the permissible degrees of deviance. Overall I am all about rules, and the clear communication and the following of them. (Now, how people make and update rules, especially laws, needs a lot of attention and renovation, but that is a different story) However, this particular law is one that I hate, and it stems directly from capitalism. People need to be compensated for their work. Sure, I get that. I consider academics, and writers, even writers of textbooks, to fall under the category of artists, and I consider the copyright of books and magazines to not be that much different than music and films. However, music and films are generally for pleasure whereas academia claims to be for the advancement of sociery and individuals. That information should be free and accessible. I remember watching a film last month about a kid who solved some medical test issue (pancreatic cancer) by accessing free journals via google. THAT is what the world should consist of. Not a bunch of publishing houses hording academic thought (for I truly do not believe that it is the academics that have an issue with copywriting their work.). There needs to be some way that authors can still be compensated for their work and yet people can have free access to the results of their work. I think the main way for doing this is the grants that experts get to DO their research, and that is what should be covered, not the final product. <Sigh> Oh world, you have a lot of growing to do, still. 

Now, my final reflective question, is would I want to publish a book and not get paid? No, I wouldn't. But if I got paid a living stipend the entire time I was writing the book, that would be quite enough for me. And I get that the printers and publishers need to be paid as well, and I am not all about the electronic age of books... but still, there must be some solution. 

Lies I was Never Told- The Making of an Expat Part III

I suppose that a good reason for studying abroad is the dissolution of your current ideas about the world. It wasn't my reason though. I do happen to enjoy my dissolution and so I tend to be open to it, but my placement in Istanbul was more about staying in the East than pursuing any type of deeper understanding. It was a moment of retrenchment. I needed a breath and a bit of recollection before deciding where to go with my life after my time in Bulgaria, and a return to University sounded deceptively relaxing. I was not prepared for some of my courses, which are taught very differently than my curriculum in the United States. I thought that I would spend a year in a state of pure static reflection, and in the end be able to return to the US with a sense of completion and a bit of direction. Instead I have been constantly challenged.

One of my courses this semester questions the concepts of 'state,' and, 'nation.' It is taught by an amazing man. He is from Iranian Kurdistan, and is Kurdish. His knowledge of the topic of the middle east is expansive to say the least. He is quite passionate. Sometimes I catch him correcting little mistakes in his delivery. 'The Germans,' is corrected to, 'the German government,' and today a, 'we,' had to be corrected to, 'they.' The personal perspective is amazing, and that he is willing to separate it out in his lectures is even more impressive. When he starts to speak I melt into story mode. He crafts with his words, and he feels a lot like the desert that I miss: dry, warm, and filled with hidden beauty.

Now, this particular class is about the middle east: Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Syria, Palestine, Israel. A class like that has to include the influence and power of the United States in that area, and coming from the perspective of anyone who is not American (and some Americans) a bit of sourness is to be expected. I am shocked to learn little tidbits of American participation, or lack thereof, in the political situation over there. What things were influenced by wealth, and what by religion? The Jewish question. The Kurdish question. The Shiite question. These are all things I never even knew to ask. For instance, in the war between Iraq and Iran, when pretty much everyone was supporting Iraq, the final blow was that Iraq was blowing up oil tankers that were funding Iranian munitions, and Iran could not retaliate because Kuwaiti, and Saudi Arabian (Iraqi as well?) oil tankers had been given permission to use American flags for protection. Now, I understand nothing about this, but I feel like it is somewhat important to know and understand. To question. The thing that really gets me in that class though is not the US being put in a non-patriotic perspective. It is how little I know about the US.

Often times my professor will make a comment about US political stances, or military movements and either pose it as a question to me, or glance at me to confirm a detail, such as the name of Operation Desert Shield. Most often I just have to shrug in embarrassment, because I have almost no knowledge of the middle east. I can name the countries and some of the leaders, but I cannot name which religions are situated where, and which countries were against whom, when. I cannot even name which side the US was on in any given year because I do not know what the sides were. Of course, as the daughter of someone in the military this is a tragedy, but even without that connection, I feel like as a US citizen I am failing, or was failed.

I was never taught about the middle east in school. It was never stated that we, as a nation, are currently participating in wars. I learned about the revolutionary war, and the world wars. I even learned a bit about the Vietnam war and Korean conflict. But after that international events just stopped, or became focused on peaceful European interactions. Suddenly everything was about what was going on domestically and, in my education, the US lacked any sort of international presence. I realize that I dislike politics and so I never sought out this type of information, but one would think that these would be things that would be important for our future leaders to know about, and that it would be required knowledge.

I know that it is not just me. I am guessing that the average American would not be able to explain any of the US participation in the middle east. Of course, here is where all of my politically engaged friends jump in and say that they know everything that is going on. But really, where did they get that information? They had to seek it out. Research. University. Even then information is fragmented and biased. It isn't that we are told lies about the global situation, it is more often that we don't talk about the details- just broad sweeping concepts of supporting troops, greed, and human rights. But the average person should KNOW if their country is engaged in conflict. They should be able to articulate what individuals are dying for, what their country is or is not supporting. Somewhere along the line there is a gross lack of transparency. Whether that is the government hiding things, or the schools not adjusting their curriculum to changing times, or families not caring, or wishing to shelter their children I am not sure. What I am sure of is that something is not adding up and it makes me sad and frustrated to realize it.

I guess the logical thing to feel after the horror and disgust would be a sense of relief that I am out of that murky mess, free to gain whichever perspective I can travel towards. However, this is one of the issues that makes the question of ex-patriotism infinitely more complex, because this is one of the few things that makes me want to return to the United States. I feel a great sense of responsibility in this matter. I see a problem, and I have the ability to contribute to fixing it. If I returned to the US, permanently, I think that I would have to take on the role of a revolutionary. I would have to be one of those people who demand change, and then, instead of just demanding it, they get out and make change. I would have to be loud. It would be very difficult, but in some ways it would be truly rewarding, because I would be contributing to a better world, something that I have the power to do much more easily on "home soil" than I do in any other country. It is this loyalty and sense of care and belonging that force me to question whether I would be a successful expat, and whether that is something that I really want. 

The Passport- Making of an Expat, Part II

Despite my father being in the military I did not travel abroad as a child. His last lengthy stay away from home was on the USS Nimitz during my mother's pregnancy with me. Following that he opted for domestic positions where our family could accompany him. I vaguely knew that my father had spent time abroad, but until last year I did not realize the extensiveness of his military travels: Okinawa for a lengthy stay, calls in many areas of the Pacific, all over Western Europe, and the Mediterranean. Apparently my father is quite the traveled man, and yet no stories ever came up in my family, ever. I don't mean that I didn't listen, and I don't mean that we didn't talk. It was just that my father never mentioned his time on aircraft carriers or foreign bases, and for a kid who has never left the country questions such as, "Hey dad, did you ever live in Germany?" weren't a viable part of my vocabulary. So, according to me, my family's experience with international consisted of a quick boarder hop into Mexico or Canada, for a picnic or to see a sight not more than fifteen minutes from the boarder. This was back in the day when passports weren't required for boarder crossings, and my parent's driving licenses sufficed for re-entry, and so it never really felt like a big deal. I didn't leave the country until I was 24 years old, and even then my "leaving" was technical and accidental.

Through rumor and fairytale I somehow got it in my mind that it was an excellent idea to go work on the island territory of Guam for a winter, and in so many ways it was. I flew from L.A. through Hawaii, landed in Tuman Bay and spent three unbelievable months in a hot, wet paradise. However, Guam is a U.S. territory and since my flight never left the United States I went with just my driver's license. I had to go through customs for the first time, ever, when my plane landed and I suddenly became confused as to the status of the island, the boarders of my nation, and international law. As they opened each of my suitcases and examined my eclectic mix of baggage I had my first inklings of curiosity about citizenship and rights. It was nothing well-formed and I would not have been able to express it in words, but I was definitely feeling the boarders more than I had ever before.

While I was on Guam I grew to appreciate its claim to being, "The place where the sun rises on the U.S." I had always had a conception of the U.S. as being large, but with the diversity of people on Guam- Chumarro, Japanese, Korean and Philippine, and it's huge military and strategic history I gained a new perspective of just how far the United States reached into the world. Yes, Guam is a U.S. territory, but as far as culture and experience it is more of a door to the East than any other part of the U.S. I had been in. It felt like a foreign country in many ways.

As my time on Guam progressed new laws were being passed that required a passport to get back to the mainland. About a month before I was due to leave Guam I applied for my first passport ever. The application, as many official applications are, was particularly stressful for me. Questions that are easy for most U.S. citizens have always been difficult for me. Permanent residence? I had no concept of permanency. Even in retirement my parents moved from house to house to lack of house and back to another house. I definitely had not lived in one apartment longer than a few months since I left for University. Residences for the past ten years? I couldn't remember the addresses and phone numbers. Honestly, at times entire cities dropped out of my goldfish memory. Place of birth? That one should be simple, but I was told at the Social Security office when I was 26 that the place I had thought I was born, the city my parents lived in during my mother's pregnancy, was not actually my place of birth as the military hospital that she birthed in was actually located in the next town over. I hadn't thought of a passport application as an examination, but the questions were difficult and there were many of them that I eventually had to leave blank. For the two weeks that it took to process my passport I was in constant fear that it would be denied as I did not have enough coherent information to identify myself as a valid American. There were no problems, however, and a few weeks later they called me to pick up my passport.

When I went to the passport office I was ecstatic  It was a holiday for me. It was a huge event. The woman behind the counter was nice enough, but lacked my enthusiasm. She had me sign a form, gave me my passport, and reminded me to sign the first page before travelling. I opened my passport- that coveted American Eagle blue book- and read the first page, which happens to be the preamble to the U.S. constitution:

"We the people of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense  promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America." 

You are required to sign directly beneath that quotation, simulating the original signing of the constitution and your loyalty to your country. Now, it is my opinion that most people who get their passports have two reactions to this requirement and placement: 1) The don't even notice it/consider it and sign without thought or delay because, hey, they can travel! or 2) They notice it and think that it is neat. They proudly sign their consent to the constitution. I, however, had a third reaction. I hesitated. I debated. I did not want to sign.

At that point in my life I was not against the way that the U.S. ran things. In fact, I thought that it was a pretty nifty country with many rights and securities that other places don't have. I loved my life and all of the opportunities that I had been afforded. I was not anti-American, and I am still not. I think that there are many beautiful aspects to American governance. However, what I did not like was that I was forced to declare myself as an American if I wanted to travel anywhere. It was at that moment that I realized that I had no option to exist as an individual. I could not get a passport from another country, and I could not get a passport from my own country without agreeing to the way the country was ran. It seemed very limiting to me, and for the first time I had a feeling of being trapped in my citizenship. I began dreaming of times before boarders, when a traveller travelled completely on his own, without papers from the king, and others allowed him into their space (or didn't) based on nothing more than his face and word. However, I wanted to travel, and so eventually I conceded and signed the document, not because I necessarily agreed with it, but because I needed it. Back then I did not recognize this as coercion of the state, or the hegemony of global nationalism. I just knew that it felt somehow wrong, and as I signed I was being forced into the lies of bureaucracy.

Since I had my passport I planned a trip around southeast Asia on my way back to the States. I planned three months in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam.
You may know it as the classic backpacker's loop. However, due to circumstances of theft (another story in its own right) I had to cancel the trip, ended my time on Guam early, and took the first flight home I could get. The flight happened to fly through Japan, with an overnight in an airport hotel. I was able to use my virgin passport, and thoroughly. Japanese security included, staples, stamps, landing permissions, and visas. It was a beautiful page in my passport. As I stepped out of the airport, looked at the Japanese night sky, I thought to myself, "A girl could get used to this," and at that point I decided the signature was definitely worth it. 

Critical Success Factors

In my Business Management class we are practicing the identification of critical success factors in various markets. It is a fun exercise, to see what defines success and also how that success can be achieved, but of course my introspective self begins to apply it all to my own life. My dreams have definitely matured, and as they become more realistic they have been forced to fit into the dominant hegemony of capitalism: the measurement of success becomes money and things.

Now, I don't like to think of myself as an overly material person. Sure, I do like my "things." I have a slight scarf addiction, and notebooks are something that I don't think I could live without. I have a relatively nice computer (even though it  is starting to give up on me) and I have one of the latest tablets. In just 6 months the boy and I have acquired so much "stuff" that our move is going to be challenging no matter which destination and path we choose. I would love to stake claim as a minimalist, but I don't think that I will ever be able to. Comfort and attachment permeate my being. However, I am still not sold on the capitalistic dream of owning the means of production and basing my success on my material wealth. Therefore I think that it is important to constantly re-evaluate my critical success factors and my definition of success.

An exploration into success using Maslow's hierarchy of needs:

I do, honestly, believe that success is achieved in self-actualization. Specifically I believe that my success is measured by my ability to recognize and maintain my morality, to contribute creatively to a social network, to have and learn from adventures, to be loving and helpful to others, and to develop my spiritual nature. According to Maslow I need to satisfy all of these minor levels in order to achieve those successes.

1. Physiological: These are things that are rather guaranteed in the modern world, and I am not overly concerned for them. One thing that I do not really get enough of is sleep. Also, it is important for me to not just ingest things, but to do so in a conscious, healthy manner, which adds a layer of complexity to what was once thought of as the most basic level of needs. Whereas once the need was provoked by a scarcity of food, it is now provoked by an overabundance of things that claim to be food but are ultimately not contributing to a positive life. That is why I want to have more control over my physiological needs, including my successful life involving having my own garden and actively producing my own food. 
2. Safety: Here is where the control comes in. I have not had a lot of control in my life, and this is where I have often dwelt in the hierarchy. Not having an income, not having a domicile, not having permanent relationships. A big need in this level is family, which to me means those tight relationships that you can really depend on. I feel a great need to really redefine and cultivate a sense of family. I have family like I never believed possible in Nikola. However, the friendships that I have depended on until now are definitely struggling. I need that really close, communal feel in the same hemisphere as me, in the same country in me, and preferably in the same city as me. Secondly, I do not give a lot of importance to money, but I do give importance to property. My physical safety is measured (to me) in owning my own land, and developing that land in such a way to have minimal dependance on the "grid." That means going with alternative energy sources and having an awesomely insulated house hat I can sustain with my family. 
3. Love/belonging: Nikola satisfies a huge chunk of this category, but I also feel the need to develop other very intimate, strong bonds based on emotional intimacy. The distance thing is really starting to ache after three years, and I recognize that I have intimacy issues as far as building new relationships goes... especially in Bulgaria. I am going to have to get over that. So here I see a need to have family friends that I see often and share new experiences and an exchange of ideas with. 
4. Esteem: I feel like my esteem is not hard to meet. There are so many ways for me to achieve a sense of worth and respect. Someday I will have the role of a mother (never thought that would be on my list), but also I want to be an active community leader/member advocating and researching youth rights and issues, providing educational programing and working in the outdoor field. This is not connected to payment for me, and I would be perfectly happy to do this without monetary compensation provided I already have that house and garden thing met :)

Okay, so what does all that mean? What does my life look like if I am to consider myself successful: 

• My family owns our own property, on which we manage a large garden and have a self-sustaining home utilizing alternative energy methods such as solar or wind energy. 
• I am a wife and mother, preferably with two kids. 
• I have a very close knit group of friends within my physical community with whom I interact positively with on a regular basis. 
• I have an extended community both physically close and further away that I interact with less often but still in a meaningful way. 
• I contribute in the field of youth development and community building. 
• I contribute creatively, and maintain creative dialogues (through dance, writing, painting, film, photography etc) with people from within my community. 

That's it. That is success for me. Many, many ways to achieve it. I wonder if I ever will.