This article describes various ways in which difference is addressed – or constructed – within Norwegian international cooperation with indigenous peoples. Along with nation-building processes, this is related in the first place to ethnic identity formation in Norway, namely among the Sami people, who have been recognised as indigenous since the 1970s [1]. With a focus on the period from the aftermath of the Second World War to the turn of the millennium, the article explores the contributions of both Norwegian and Sami anthropologists, and particularly their work in organisations, programmes and projects associated with Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples in and beyond Norway. Either from academic positions or from political ones, including administrative ranks, these actors put forward and debated anthropological theories, practices, and concepts that have been pivotal when addressing indigenous movements at national and international level [2].
International Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples as a Space for the Constitution of Nationalities and Ethnic Borders
International development cooperation [3] aimed at indigenous peoples can be understood as one of the contemporary spaces for the constitution of nationalities and ethnic borders, seen in turn as dynamic processes to which new elements are continually added. In the case under analysis, we can say that it was centrally involved in the inflection of the themes that made up the imagination of the Norwegian nation in the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century, opening up space for a new set of themes in the second half of the latter. In the first period, the Viking past, peasant folklore and the creation of the national language as key elements in the nation’s imagination could be highlighted, along with images of nature associated with the conquests of modern polar explorers and the constitution of the philanthropic and humanitarian traditions that asserted themselves after the First World War (Hylland Eriksen 1993, 1996).
The second period saw the emergence of new themes in this imagination, related to the ideology of development, human rights and multiculturalism, updated in the light of debates on indigenous peoples and ethnic minorities in the country. Within this period, the 1970s and 1980s were marked by the debate around the rights of the Sami people and the claim to their status as ’indigenous’ [4] (Paine 1991 ; Minde 2003). In the 1980s and 1990s, in turn, it was the presence of immigrants and political refugees that dominated the media and was established as an ’issue’ associated with the discussion of Norwegian national identity (Wikan 1999 ; Hylland Eriksen 2002) [5].
The development of Norwegian international cooperation has played a strategic role in defining these issues, in that it has brought the country’s internal agendas for indigenous peoples, immigrants and political refugees into dialogue with its external agendas, combining the themes of development and human rights in a rather peculiar way. Norway has specific historical conditions as a European country without a colonial past outside its borders, and has itself had an experience of political subordination [6]. This combination, and, at the same time, the presence of a minority population – that of the Sami – who obtained the status of indigenous people in the 1970s, had decisive consequences for the country’s involvement in the construction of international mechanisms for the recognition and defence of indigenous rights and, therefore, for the affirmation of ethnic identities beyond its national borders.
If we look at the issue of international cooperation with indigenous peoples in order to locate the set of agencies and actors involved in Norway with this universe, we come across a complexity and variety of perspectives and forces. This tends to question analyses that see it univocally, as a propagator of the same set of values and reproducer of a single cosmology – that of the hegemonic capitalist forces on the international stage. By looking relationally at the actors involved in Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples [7], it is possible to see it as a socially multidetermined phenomenon, dependent on the intersection of different bureaucratic, academic and political agencies, and implemented by a group of actors who are often in dispute (Oliveira 1988). In this sense, analysing the role of state bodies, multilateral organisations such as development banks and UN agencies, as well as transnational and local NGOs, becomes an important guiding principle for unravelling the agencies involved in this field. It can also shed new light on the studies of ethnicity that have favoured the analysis of these forces (Williams 1989 ; Souza Lima 1995 ; Barth 2000 ; Oliveira 2004 ; Barroso Hoffmann 2009, 2011).
The case of cooperation with indigenous peoples is particularly fertile for understanding that the apparatus of international cooperation has not only been linked to the construction of mechanisms for governing and managing populations, but has also lent itself to questioning these mechanisms and to proposals for their reformulation. Thus, although it is undeniable that analyses concerned with demystifying the benefits of development, the ethnocentric nature of its actions and the evolutionist perspective of its proposals are pertinent (Sachs 1999 ; Rist 1999), analysing Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples allows us to highlight another set of issues. In addition to the issue of the asymmetry of North/South relations and the denunciation of the ’failure’ of actions undertaken under the aegis of the development ideals, it is possible to see the formation of a varied set of transnational communities of interest that transcend these divides, with projects that do not always converge with mainstream proposals. The work of Norwegian and Sami anthropologists has been centrally involved in the debates and creation of these alternative paths within Norwegian cooperation, while at the same time being associated with the theoretical developments of the anthropological discipline in the country.
The Involvement of Norwegian Anthropologists in the Field of International Cooperation
Although the involvement of anthropologists in the field of international cooperation began in the 1950s in Norway, it was only in the second half of the 1980s that it intensified, when development studies departments grew in the country and the UN established a debate on the inclusion of the cultural dimension in development. In relation to the UN’s proposal [8], it was concerned with showing the plurality of points of view involved in the issue, drawing attention to the difficulty of defining the concept of ’culture’, and what ’culture’ they were talking about in the field of ’development assistance’ (Hylland Eriksen 1989). The interventions of anthropologists in this field have thus been associated, in the first place, with the exercise of relativising concepts and understanding their meanings in different contexts, starting with the relativisation of the concept of culture itself (Gray 1989 ; Melhuus 1989 ; Mlama1989 ; Klausen 1989). In this sense, instead of using the most common-sense views of ’culture’, such as equating it with the notion of ’cultivation’ or with ’Western’ forms of expressing this dimension, such as cinema, theatre, museums, etc., a need was identified to incorporate the perspectives of the target groups about this subject in all phases of the projects, from their conception to their evaluation (Klausen 1989) ; or to recognise the validity of different ways of knowing, abandoning the view of the superiority of ’donor’ knowledge over ’local’ knowledge (Melhuus 1989).
In the same vein, the need to implement the principle of ’assistance focused on the target populations’ own premises” (Gray 1989 : 75) was in line with principles similar to those formulated by Sol Tax in the 1950s, in the context of the ’anthropology of action’, i.e. the need for projects to meet the demands formulated by the target populations, rather than ’creating solutions’ to problems not perceived by them as such. In this context, the disastrous effects of technology transfer processes were denounced, whether due to the creation of dependency on ’donor’ countries, or simply due to the ecological, social or cultural inadequacy of the negotiated solutions. Criticism also drew attention to the fact that ’assistance’ clearly enriched certain groups, both in the ’donor’ and ’grantee’ countries, instead of favouring the ’most vulnerable’ groups in the latter. In this sense, contrary to what many analyses said, it was seen more as a pact between elites than as a space for the subalternisation of actors from the ’South’ by actors from the ’North’ (Mlama 1989 : 163).The plurality of points of view of those involved in the implementation of ’development assistance’ projects in Norway pointed out by anthropologists, on the other hand, questioned the construction of one-sided images of this terrain, offering instead a multifaceted portrait of its operators and analysts. In the case of projects aimed at educating local populations, for example, it has been shown that they have been analysed both as an instrument of liberation from colonialism (Dahl 1989 : 48), and as an element that introduces asymmetries between peoples with an oral tradition (Fuglesand 1989 : 30), or even as a necessary condition for the target populations of the ’assistance’ to be able to participate in an informed way in all its stages (Gray 1989 : 75).
In some cases, an attempt was made to share responsibility for the “failure” with the “grantees” of the development projects, also attributed to the fact that they had absorbed certain local sociocultural characteristics, such as the lack of organisational capacity and the ’culture of helping’ close relatives, which was pointed out as a continuous source of corruption (Hylland Eriksen 1989a : 62). There were also those who pointed out the contradictions inherent in the ’development’ proposal – defined as an ethnocentric project linked to maintaining or recreating colonial ties in new guises – summarised by the popular saying, often quoted in African countries : first raiders, then traders, now aiders (Kromberg 1989 : 177).
Thus, in the case of Norwegian anthropology, there was a tendency for the discipline to take on a reflexive role with regard to the presence of different perspectives and projects from the actors involved in the social situations they were analysing and intending to act upon. In the specific case of indigenous peoples, Andrew Gray, a British anthropologist on the staff of the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs – IWGIA, an organisation of defence of indigenous rights largely funded by the Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation – Norad, argued that international cooperation could be seen as an option for underprivileged sections of the Third World population. It was presented as a channel of support for self-determination in the case of indigenous peoples, as it enables their independence from institutions such as the Church and the state, which were seen as sources of clientelistic and paternalistic relations, especially in the context of Latin America (Gray 1989 : 85) [9].
Norwegian Anthropology and the Sami
While the participation of Norwegian anthropologists in actions in the Third World was growing, their work with indigenous peoples was also building up, initially linked to a national debate on the situation of the Sami people in Norway, which began after the publication of a research carried out between 1948 and 1953 by Harald Eidheim on the Sami populations of the country’s northern coast. Its conclusions, presented in the country’s mainstream press in 1958, were a scathing indictment of the racism practised against the Sami, whose situation was studied by Eidheim using the theoretical contributions of the American sociologist Erving Goffman on the mechanisms of representation of the self in everyday life. The publication of this research had a profound impact on Norwegian public opinion, which at the time was obsessed with the ideals of social equality (likhet) promoted by social democracy. It led to an appeal to the Norwegian parliament and strengthened the Sami political demand movements that had begun to take shape in the 1950s (Klausen 2005 : 189).
In this context, it is worth remembering that Eidheim was one of the participants in the seminar organised by Fredrik Barth at the University of Bergen in 1967 on the constitution of ethnic groups (Barth 1969) and was responsible for one of the contributions on the Sami question discussed there (Eidheim 1969). On that occasion, drawing once again on the theoretical contributions of Erving Goffman, Eidheim described the mechanisms of masking Sami identity that indicated the condition of social stigma in which they lived. This was especially the case since the processes of modernisation of the northern region of Norway promoted during its post-war reconstruction with funds from the Marshall Plan, when drastic policies of assimilation of the Sami were implemented. Eidheim’s data was later confirmed by anthropologist Ivar Bjørklund’s (1985) studies of population dynamics on the north coast of Norway in the 1950s. According to Bjørklund’s research carried out in Kvænangen Fjord, a region traditionally occupied by the Sami, it was shown that the sudden ’disappearance’ of the Sami population, which went from 863 inhabitants recorded in the 1930 census to just five in the 1950 census, was not the result of any process of migration or the extermination of individuals during the war, but simply a change in the self-identification of the inhabitants ; they began to recognise themselves as Norwegians rather than Sami, in the course of an accelerated process of assimilation (Bjørklund 2000 : 15). The author describes this process as follows :
The [post-war] reconstruction meant that the Sami population became part of the wider national community in cultural terms as well. Norwegianisation implied ⎯ in both ideological and practical terms ⎯ that all Norwegian citizens were obliged to share the same cultural skills on which the reconstruction government bureaucracy relied, namely the Norwegian language, culture and identity. The 1950s and 1960s were marked by a belief in the growing prosperity associated with modernisation. A great national endeavour was set in motion, and any attempt to question the place of the Sami in Norway’s future seemed completely irrelevant. A society of equality was the order of the day ; there was no room for difference, whether economic or cultural. Issues relating to the Sami were only dealt with in the context of discussing topics such as ’poverty’, ’disease’, or ’illiteracy’, and preferably in relation to the reindeer herding population in the hinterland of Finnmark province. (Bjørklund 2000 : 15-16)
It is striking that the way the Norwegian government treated and conceived of the Sami in the 1950s was very similar to the way the government perceived and treated the Third World. The mechanisms put in place during that period, aimed at ’development assistance’, were also based on the idea that the Third World should ’modernise’ and ’progress’ in order to become equal to the First ⎯ in the same way that the Sami should become equal to the Norwegians ⎯ defining, among the issues to be ’solved’, the same ones perceived among the Sami, especially in the case of ’poverty’. It is no coincidence that the Sami mobilisations to assert their ethnic identity quickly took on an anti-colonialist perspective, running parallel to the African decolonisation movements and absorbing many of their ideals and perspectives [10]. In this context, it is worth highlighting the fact that, although Norway did not have a colonial past linked to the formation of overseas empires, the experience of internal colonialism practised by the Norwegians on the Sami was a formative event in many ways, not only in the experience of conceiving of an ’other’ as inferior and subaltern and therefore in need of ’help’, but also in the experience of creating mechanisms to deal with it.
In the following decades, the stance of Norwegian anthropologists shifted from denunciation to direct involvement in the struggles in favour of Sami rights, playing a strategic role in the transition from their definition as an ethnic minority to their self-conception as an indigenous people. The anthropologists’ new stance was related to the emergence of what has been called socially relevant anthropology in Norway, which arose from the involvement of anthropologists and other social scientists in projects aimed at the populations of the northern region of the country, including the Sami, formulated from research carried out at the University of Tromsø (Bjørklund 2005).
The work of anthropologists on issues related to the Sami’s clashes with the Norwegian government has led to a type of specialised consultancy, such as the studies by Ivar Bjørklund and Terje Bratenberg on the reindeer herders’ transhumance system in the province of Finnmark. These studies, published in the early 1980s, made it possible to challenge the reports presented by the Norwegian government on the number of reindeer that would be affected by the construction of the Alta hydroelectric dam. The conclusions of the authors, who had the collaboration of Harald Eidheim, although not enough to prevent the project from going ahead, forced the Norwegian government to admit the error of the impact studies carried out by agricultural technicians and to negotiate a series of compensatory measures with the Sami, which, among other things, included the creation of the Sami Parliament (Bjørklund 2005).
In this context, it is worth highlighting the problems faced by Harald Eidheim in publishing a collection of articles on the Alta episode in the Tromsø Museum’s Ottar magazine, on the grounds, according to the magazine’s editors, that the subject had to do only with ’politics’ and not ’science’ (Bjørklund 2005). The publication of the collection, finally released in 1981 under the title Altasak - Samesak - Urbefolkningssak (The problem of Alta : a Sami problem, an indigenous problem), thus marked an important turning point in what Sami historian Henry Minde described as the passage of the Sami question from the field of ethnography to the field of history (Minde 2000 : 31) – something that, significantly, in the case of Norway, took place with the help of anthropologists. It is thus worth emphasising once again the contribution of Barth’s theoretical formulations to this transformation, since it was they who, by focussing studies on ethnic groups on the constitution of their borders, guaranteed the ’scientific’ legitimacy of studies on the contemporary political processes of affirming the ethnic identity of the Sami within Norwegian society.
In the following decades, this legitimacy was consolidated with the work of anthropologists hired by the Tromsø Museum, under the direction of Harald Eidheim, to recreate the museum’s exhibitions dedicated to the Sami. These exhibitions no longer showed the Sami only as ’noble savages’, that is, as an exotic population crystallised in time, about whom only objects of material culture were displayed, but also the history of the people’s political struggles. According to Bjørklund, the negotiations between the anthropologists and the museologists at the institution were fundamental to this, allowing the latter to ’[...] become accustomed to a processual approach to culture, in which it is seen not as something that is, but as something that happens’ (Bjørklund 2005 : 227, transl. from the original in Norwegian).
Norwegian Anthropology and Indigenous Peoples
The involvement of Norwegian anthropologists with indigenous questions was related not only to the internal struggles of the Sami, but also to the internationalisation of these questions, which was one of its developments. Another participant in the Bergen Seminar organised by Fredrik Barth in 1967, Norwegian anthropologist Helge Kleivan, a researcher of the Inuit in Greenland, played a key role in these developments, together with Swedish ethnographer Lars Persson, when they founded the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs – IWGIA, in 1968. The creation of the IWGIA, whose funding initially depended on resources from the Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation – Norad and the Danish International Development Agency – DANIDA, marked a new type of relationship between anthropologists and the world of development cooperation. We could consider this to be marked by a counter-cultural bias, in the sense that the work proposed by the organisation did not endorse the ’developmentalist’ assumptions of the mainstream development agencies involved in this field.
The creation of the IWGIA took place in the context of denunciations of the genocide of South America’s indigenous peoples, largely as a result of development projects undertaken by authoritarian governments with funds from multilateral banks. The late 1960s and early 1970s were marked by the emergence of a broad anthropological literature aimed at denouncing the consequences of these projects, concomitant with the formation of an international network of anthropologists committed to defending indigenous rights. The IWGIA was one of the forerunners, along with other organisations created at the same time, such as Survival International in England in 1969, Cultural Survival in the United States and Amazind in Switzerland, both in 1972.
It is worth noting that, in the same way as with the Sami, anthropologists moved from an initial position of denunciation to one of active involvement in indigenous mobilisations aimed at building arguments in favour of their rights within national states. These rights were signed at successive international meetings, conferences and seminars, many of which, following the model inaugurated at the Chicago Conference by Sol Tax in 1961, brought indigenous and non-indigenous actors face to face in dialogue. Among these meetings was the Symposium on Interethnic Contact in South America, organised by anthropologists from the Department of Ethnology at the University of Bern (Switzerland) with funding from the World Council of Churches’ Programme to Combat Racism. In it, anthropologists from various parts of the world involved in denouncing the threats to indigenous peoples in South America produced the First Barbados Declaration. This document established the principle of supporting the autonomy of indigenous peoples that would, in the following decades, guide much of the mobilisation of anthropologists, church members and jurists committed to defending indigenous rights : ’Indians must organize and lead their own liberation movement otherwise it ceases to be liberating’ (Barbados Declaration 1971 apud Dostal 1972:381). In the Declaration – which sought to define the responsibilities of states, religious missions and anthropologists in relation to indigenous peoples – it can be noted, in the case of anthropologists, a clear stance in favour of advice committed not to government authorities, but to the Indians, who were no longer seen as objects of study, but as subjects of political action. Anthropology should dialogue and cooperate with them. Thus, in one of the excerpts from the declaration, it is stated that :
The anthropology now required in Latin America is not that which relates to Indians as objects of study, but rather that which perceives the colonial situation and commits itself to the struggle for liberation. In this context we see anthropology providing the colonised peoples with the data and interpretations both about themselves and their colonisers useful for their own fight for freedom and re-defining the distorted image of Indian communities current in the national society, thereby unmasking its colonial nature with its underlying ideology (Declaration of Barbados 1971 apud Dostal : 380).
This clearly outlined an anti-authoritarian perspective in relation to indigenous peoples, followed by the recommendations directed at religious missions in the document. It concluded that the suspension of all missionary activity was the best policy to be followed for the good of indigenous societies and the ’moral integrity of the churches involved’. In particular, it recommended the suspension of the ’dispute for souls’ between religious groups and confessions, the suppression of the secular practices of separating indigenous children from their families to educate them in orphanages, the abandonment of the offer of goods and services to the Indians in exchange for their submission, the end of the practices of displacing populations for the purposes of evangelisation or assimilation, and the suspension of the criminal practices of intermediating the exploitation of indigenous labour (Barbados Declaration 1971 apud Dostal 1972 : 378-379).
The responsibilities attributed to the state in the Declaration of Barbados also represented a turnaround from the assimilationist policies practised until then by Latin American states, placing the following items among the obligations of national states : guaranteeing all indigenous populations the right to remain indigenous and to live according to their morals and customs ; recognising that indigenous groups had rights prior to those of other national groups, guaranteeing their right to land ; and giving Indians the prerogative to organise and govern themselves according to their traditions. This policy should not exclude Indians from the full exercise of citizenship, guaranteeing them the right to enjoy the services offered to the rest of the population, such as economic, social, health and education assistance, but at the same time freeing them from committing themselves to obligations that they felt would affect their cultural integrity, and protecting them from exploitation by other sectors of national society (Barbados Declaration 1971 apud Dostal 1972 : 377).
This set of affirmations contained in the First Declaration of Barbados marked the spread, at international level, of a counter-cultural current in relation to the mainstream development apparatus, formulating an anti-authoritarian perspective, understood as synonymous with an anti-colonial stance. It simultaneously repudiated the colonialist relations of subordination of indigenous peoples within the borders of national states and claimed the right of these peoples not to submit to the canons of development. However, it is worth noting that, due to a contradictory dynamic that marked the entire scenario of indigenous political struggles from then on, these currents became one of the faces of the development apparatus, since many of the indigenous organisations and organisations that supported the Indians, created by anthropologists, religious and indigenous leaders, would obtain their resources, albeit not exclusively, from this apparatus.
The First Declaration of Barbados thus constituted a strategic starting point for the transnational articulation of indigenous and non-indigenous actors in favour of indigenous rights. In the following decades, it gave rise to a long series of conceptual formulations in the fields of anthropology and law, aimed at responding to the various concrete contexts of political struggle involving indigenous peoples. Among these concepts were those aimed at defining the position of indigenous peoples in the space of national states, such as ’first nations’, or on the international stage, ’Fourth World’. Concepts have also emerged aimed at particularising indigenous demands in various social fields, such as ’ethnodevelopment’ – coined in the 1980s to define actions based on decisions taken by indigenous people themselves within their territories – or ’interculturality’, aimed at obtaining specific rights for indigenous people in the field of education, the use of which became widespread in the 1990s.
In the case of Norway, the currents linked to the international pro-indigenous movement took shelter first within the IWGIA in the case of anthropologists, an organisation with a global reach, and then successively within the Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples – NPIP, whose area of activity was concentrated in Latin America ; the Rainforest Foundation Norway, an environmental organisation working with indigenous peoples, initially focused on the rainforest regions of Brazil, which later extended its activities to Oceania, Asia and Africa ; and the Remote Area Development Programme – RADP, a development programme implemented by Norad in Botswana aimed at the San people.
In the case of church members, the new pro-Indian stances would be taken up by Norwegian Church Aid – NCA, a Lutheran-based humanitarian organisation with close ties to the World Council of Churches, whose work on the indigenous issues, concentrated mainly in Africa and Latin America, would represent an important divide in relation to Norwegian missionary organisations, which did not adhere to the principles of the Barbados Declaration. Finally, in the case of the Sami, the pro-Indian mobilisations at international level were channelled by the Sami Council, at first, and later also by the Sami Parliament, which was notably active in UN forums and with indigenous organisations and universities and research centres focused on indigenous issues in Latin America and Africa.
Norwegian International Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples as a Space for Producing Knowledge on Public Policies, Political Activism and Anthropological Theory
The work of Norwegian anthropologists, made possible by their participation in programmes and organisations funded by Norwegian international cooperation, included the International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs – IWGIA, the Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples – NPIP, the Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples and the Remote Area Development Programme – RADP. These experiences have led to an examination of the relationship between the fields of ’theory’ and ’practice’ in Norwegian anthropology in the context of debates on the indigenous issues. Questions and dilemmas arose from a reflective dimension through which, in analysing their own activities, Norwegian anthropologists made explicit their perceptions of the role and limits of international cooperation with indigenous peoples. This was reflected, above all, in the discussions about the relations between these peoples, the national states where they are located and international cooperation bodies, in other words, about the links between local, national and international bodies involved in the indigenous issues. In this way, international cooperation can be understood as a space for the simultaneous production of knowledge on public policies, political activism and anthropological theory.
The International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs – IWGIA
According to IWGIA members, the creation of the organisation in 1968 was due to a combination of three factors : firstly, the politicisation of debates within anthropological circles, triggered by the publication of articles on the ’social relevance’ of anthropology in the journal Current Anthropology ; in addition, the new theoretical contributions on the definition of ethnic groups, formulated on the occasion of the seminar promoted by Fredrik Barth at the University of Bergen in 1967, which was attended by almost all the founders of the IWGIA ; and finally, the growth of fieldwork by European anthropologists among the indigenous peoples of South America from the 1960s onwards, whose research had until then mostly been concentrated in Africa, Asia and North America (IWGIA 1989 : 13).
The need to support indigenous organisations was not, however, part of the first objectives formulated by the IWGIA, which initially focused on the idea of setting up a complaint structure at the UN Human Rights Commission that could contribute to the formation of international public opinion in favour of defending indigenous interests. Thus, according to the formulations of Helge Kleivan, one of the organisation’s creators, ’it is hoped that world opinion will force the respective countries to act against the gross physical violations [of indigenous peoples]. This alone would be substantial progress’ (Kleivan 1969 apud IWGIA 1989:27). The first initiatives in this direction, still in 1968, proposing the creation of a permanent advisory council of social scientists at the UN with expertise in cultural and ethnic minorities, were unsuccessful. The following year, redirecting the organisation’s strategy, its leaders convinced the foreign ministers of the five Nordic countries (Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and Iceland) to send representatives to Copenhagen for meetings with experts on indigenous issues, with the aim of pressuring the governments of those countries to initiate joint action within the UN (IWGIA 1989:19). As a result of these efforts, combined with those of other pro-indigenous organisations, a commission was appointed in 1971 to study the situation of indigenous peoples within the UN Subcommittee on the Protection of Minorities, under the leadership of rapporteur José Martinez Cobo. It should be noted that in the same year, the First Declaration of Barbados had concretely demonstrated the possibilities and effects of using the work of an international network of experts as an instrument of pressure and the formation of international pro-Indian public opinion [11].
From an activity initially restricted to the effort to create international bodies for the defence of Indians associated with the work of denouncing of non-Indian experts, the IWGIA went on to criticise the ’state-centric’ approach that had prevailed until then in the treatment of indigenous peoples and to recognise the need to think about their own political forms of representation, both at national and international level (idem : 9). The main motto of the First Declaration of Barbados, expressed in the recognition that it was up to the Indians themselves to organise the struggles in defence of their interests, would thus end up prevailing and guiding the pro-Indian mobilisations promoted by various organisations, including the IWGIA. It was because of the consolidation of this vision that, at a meeting between representatives of the IWGIA and the World Council of Churches and the indigenous leader George Manuel, on the occasion of the UN Environment Conference in Stockholm in 1972, it was decided to channel everyone’s efforts into the creation of a pan-indigenous entity that could represent indigenous peoples at the UN, which resulted in the creation of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples – WCIP, in 1975.
The IWGIA’s support for the establishment of indigenous organisations also resulted in the organisation of the Arctic Peoples Conference in Copenhagen in 1973. Parallel to these efforts, the IWGIA began to fight for consultant status within the UN Economic and Social Council’s Commission on Human Rights, which it achieved at the end of the 1980s. Thus, from the organisation’s beginnings, what would become one of the hallmarks of the international pro-Indian mobilisations of the second half of the 20th century was outlined : the combined action of indigenous and non-indigenous entities, creating a mixed field of inter-ethnic mediators (Paine 1971), whose relations were marked by moments of collaboration and tension or, to use Eidheim’s terms, ’complementarisation’ and ’dichotomisation’ (Eidheim 1971).
The choice of the ’non-governmental organisation’ format to enable indigenous representation not only in international forums but also within national states was due to the fact that, at the time of these first international pro-Indian initiatives, practically no country recognised that indigenous people had the right to self-determination or to remain ethnically differentiated peoples. This factor forced those fighting for these ’causes’ to seek forms of representation outside the state structure, without counting on its support.
The creation of this ’alternative model’ of indigenous political representation was also helped by the fact that the UN and ILO international forums opened up the possibility for non-governmental organisations to participate in some of their instances. Over time, this mechanism ⎯ inaugurated in the 1970s with the participation of the first indigenous organisations in the UN with observer status ⎯ has tended to strengthen as a mechanism for indigenous representation, especially since a series of international agreements were established in the 1990s, in which the indigenous issue was linked to the environmental issue [12].
The promotion of ’self-representation’ within the UN also took place in the form of the creation of exclusive forums within the organisation for the discussion of indigenous issues, such as the United Nations Working Group on Indigenous Populations – WGIP, in 1982, which opened the door to the participation of indigenous people at the UN represented through non-governmental organisations (Muehlebach 2001 : 491). Although the IWGIA was one of the main parties involved in the creation of this forum, housed in the UN Sub-Commission on Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, it has always refused to have a voice in it, opting instead to guarantee funding for indigenous delegations to travel there to report directly on the situation of their peoples. The funding of indigenous participation in forums of this kind, as well as the funding of indigenous organisations themselves, has always been problematic, as they challenge numerous policies formulated by national states for the management of indigenous populations.
One of the main struggles undertaken by indigenous organisations in this context was precisely the pressure to transform their legal status within national states in order to obtain recognition of indigenous rights to maintain their own identity, something that required a series of new theoretical and legal formulations. The emergence of the concept of the ’Fourth World’, launched by George Manuel and M. Posluns in 1974, was one of the formulations developed by indigenous intellectuals aiming to account for the specificity of the situation of these peoples within national states. The concept, which was widely circulated among indigenous and non-indigenous leaders in the 1970s and 1980s, including in the case of the IWGIA, was defined by Helge Kleivan, one of the organisation’s founders, as follows :
The Fourth World is the popular term for the set of problems affecting [...] indigenous peoples in various countries ⎯ tribal people or aborigines ⎯ who have no political power today. Wide-ranging decisions concerning their existence are made without consulting them ⎯ land and resource decisions regarding what these peoples have every conceivable right to call their home countries. But these are areas controlled by national states, a quite recent concept in the history of mankind. [...] The Fourth World comprises between 200 to 250 million people from all over the world − the Saami of Scandinavia, the Eskimoes of Greenland, Canada, Alaska and Siberia. If we move further south, we find the North American Indians [...]. There are also indigenous peoples in Central and South America, certain parts of Africa and in vast areas of Southeast Asia. The Fourth World also includes the Australian continent and large parts of the Pacific area (Kleivan 1979 apud IWGIA 1989 : 31).
Alongside the effort to define problems common to populations located on different continents, Kleivan, by referencing the concept of the Fourth World, also outlines the effort to imagine an indigenous transnational community, cemented by a political and moral discourse of contestation against the operating logic of national states and the empires set up under their aegis. In this sense, it includes among the main problems faced by the community of peoples identified with the ’Fourth World’ the struggle for the right to possession of their territories, seen as an alternative to the proletarianisation that used to be the fate of those who lost their lands.
Other anthropologists, however, engaged in the debate on the defence of indigenous rights within the spaces of Western liberal democracies, notably in Canada, Australia and Norway in the 1980s ⎯ setting up, as Paine put it, the debate on the ’Fourth World in the First’ (Paine 1985 : 50) ⎯ took a more critical and reflexive stance on the concept of the Fourth World. They drew attention to its ambiguities and limits as an instrument of political struggle and compared it with other formulations involved in the debate, such as that of ’First Nations’, used above all by indigenous movement activists in Canada (Dyck 1985 ; Paine 1985).
It is worth highlighting in this context – for the purposes of our analysis of the changing relationship between anthropologists and indigenous peoples – not so much the content of these formulations, but the novelty of the beginning of the theoretical debate between anthropologists and indigenous intellectuals on concepts, possibilities and forms of political action by indigenous peoples. This debate was marked by a dialogical stance in which anthropologists became interlocutors and critics of indigenous leaders, when they were not directly associated with their struggles, as in the case of the leaders of the IWGIA. We can thus observe a different approach to that undertaken by Sol Tax in the 1950s, as anthropologists now became more ’interlocutors’ than ’advisors’ to indigenous groups, establishing a community of argumentation (Cardoso de Oliveira 1994) with them. This was established in academic spaces without losing sight of the horizon of political action and administrative interventions negotiated with national states, the latter based above all on legal norms established in international forums.
Over time, the IWGIA’s emphasis shifted from trying to influence governments, formulated in 1969, to the effort to produce reliable documentation to support ’indigenous self-organisation’ (IWGIA 1989 : 30), while at the same time creating a central mechanism for the process of imagining a transnational indigenous community : the gathering of information on various peoples within the same corpus of documents, legitimising in parallel one of the mechanisms for defining who was and who was not part of that community. According to Helge Kleivan, the meaning and significance of producing this documentation was to provide the Indians with a strategic tool for their struggles and to help bury the idea of a ’neutral’ or ’value-free’ social science once and for all.
The reflexive dimension of anthropology here takes on a perspective that focuses especially on the anthropologists themselves and the meaning of their work, disqualifying ’science for science’s sake’ or the mere ’predatory consumption of data’, to use Kleivan’s terms, in favour of an engaged stance in defence of ’human inviolability’. In the case of the IWGIA’s proposal, it was the construction of a moral discourse about Indians which would constitute the main line of argument in defence of indigenous peoples in the 1960s and 1970s. It was closely associated with a discourse on human rights, which would become a competitor, especially from the 1990s onwards, to the pro-indigenous argument linked to the defence of the environment.
There was a change of emphasis in these two moments, observing that while in the arguments constructed from the perspective of rights in the 1960s and 1970s, Indians were placed in context, that is, within social relations that went beyond the local level of indigenous communities, the grammar of environmentalism tended to present them outside the surrounding social context, taking up the romantic stereotypes of Indians as beings living in idyllic situations of contact with nature, isolated from social relations with other actors.
Also noteworthy, as a novelty of the pro-Indian actions implemented from the late 1960s onwards, was the growing concern to include in the debates, in addition to the Indians themselves, representatives of state bureaucracies and academia, a fourth actor, ’public opinion’, to which much of the action would be directed from then on. The IWGIA’s documentation activities, which incorporated this concern for public opinion, gradually expanded, following the spread of the indigenous movement to countries in Asia, Africa and the Pacific Islands in the 1980s, with the mobilisations in East Timor, East Papua, Bangladesh, India, Tibet and Kenya standing out.
In the 1980s, the IWGIA opened up another front of action linked to the ’self-development’ of indigenous peoples, as a result of the organisation’s transformation into a mediator of relations between indigenous groups in Latin America and the Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples – NPIP [13]. The use of the term ’self-development’ meant that the perspectives of ’development’ defended by the organisation were not in line with the mainstream conceptions of cooperation agencies and multilateral development banks at the time. Support was thus sought from the international apparatus aimed at promoting development, but under specific conditions and expectations, quite different from those traditionally formulated within it until then. It is worth noting, in this sense, that new theoretical formulations were being forged to meet these new expectations. Among them was the emergence of the concept of ethnodevelopment, coined by Mexican anthropologist Rodolfo Stavenhagen, and enshrined at the Conference on Ethnocide and Ethnodevelopment in Latin America, sponsored by UNESCO in San José, Costa Rica, in 1981, which sought to guarantee Indians the right to decide on the life alternatives they wished to adopt.
In the case of the IWGIA, the criticism of the traditional patterns of ’development’ contemplated in Stavenhagen’s concept was accompanied by a criticism of the traditional patterns of research with indigenous peoples, adding new elements in the 1980s to the perception outlined at the end of the 1960s by the organisation’s leaders about the impossibility of the neutrality of science. Thus, according to the testimony of George Henriksen, a Norwegian anthropologist who headed the IWGIA when the organisation celebrated its 20th anniversary at the 1988 Americanist Congress :
The IWGIA fights against elitism and the hegemony of development and research. When we look at the way in which research into indigenous affairs has been carried out and how development is practised, we can see several parallels. In the same way that indigenous peoples are at the receiving end of research, so they are with many development projects. Too often indigenous peoples are forced to assimilate into a picture which is provided of them by the researcher and are treated as objects of scientific interest, not as human beings with rights (Henriksen 1988 apud IWGIA 1989 : 38).
Henriksen identified indigenous peoples’ struggles for the democratisation of information, self-development and human rights as key elements in achieving self-determination. In this context, the aim was also to reverse the asymmetry linked to the fact that non-indigenous researchers had access to the indigenous reality without indigenous people having access to the researchers’ reality [14]. And, more than that, it was to reverse the monopoly of non-Indian researchers in establishing questions about Indians, specifically criticising those who ’painted pictures of indigenous peoples as those who have no history, who are out of time’ (idem). In another grammar, specifically aimed at indigenous peoples, broader issues in the anthropological debate were taken up, once again bringing to light the questioning of analyses that isolated local communities from their connections with extra-local factors, producing the effects of atemporality and de-historicisation criticised by Henriksen [15].
At the same time, in line with the critique of the monopoly of research on Indians by non-Indians, the IWGIA’s publications opened up space for indigenous authors, something the organisation’s leaders saw as a principle of ’South–South’ cooperation, since the free distribution of publications to an increasingly wide network of indigenous communities and organisations located in the ’South’ opened up the possibility of communication between them. Dialogues took place above all on the elaboration of development projects, the description and analysis of which by one group often inspired similar initiatives by others (IWGIA 1989 : 49)
The IWGIA thus became a mediating entity in the development of indigenous projects, both in this role of publicising the projects and in guaranteeing access to the financial means to implement them. This was made possible thanks to the collaboration of the only development cooperation agency that accepted the challenge set by Kleivan, Norad, whose involvement in financing these projects initially took place through the aforementioned Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples – NPIP (IWGIA 1989 : 35). The IWGIA took on the role of referring projects drawn up by indigenous organisations to that programme, thus becoming the main source of consultancy for the NPIP in the 1980s, which in its first phase focused exclusively on financing indigenous projects in Latin America. The need for IWGIA’s intermediation was justified by the argument that the projects had to be adjusted to the technical requirements set by the funders. At the same time, the organisation would not be directly involved in the implementation of the projects, in a line of action that sought to ’[...] break the pattern of paternalistic control of indigenous affairs by outsiders and support the rights of indigenous peoples to control and determine their own territories, cultures and lives’ (IWGIA 1989 : 51).
In 1987, an audit commissioned by Norad concluded that the support given to programmes and projects at local level had not led to the expected results (Smith 1996 : 99). These problems were analysed by the IWGIA itself at the end of the 1980s, which considered the difficulties of choosing indigenous organisations to fund as part of the interference within them of the clientelist dynamics typical of Latin American local politics. In this sense, based on a case study of the formation of the indigenous movement in the Madre de Dios region of Peru, carried out by Andrew Gray, two types of indigenous organisations were recognised : those created by an intellectual elite from outside the communities, who propose projects with the aim of constituting an electoral stronghold, and those created by leaders from the communities themselves, concluding that the latter are not always ’good’ and the former ’bad’, as many might think (Gray 1989) [16].
In keeping with the tradition of reflexivity in the anthropological discipline regarding the description of the actors involved in the scenarios in which anthropologists work, Gray did not provide a simple framework or magic formulas for solving problems. Rather, he presented an analysis of the difficulties faced and what he believed could be guiding principles for action from the point of view of the grantees. Among these principles was the belief, already mentioned, that the main merit of international cooperation was to enable the Indians to obtain a position of independence from institutions linked to the Church and the state in Latin America, which, through action or omission, were considered to be the main obstacles to the principle of indigenous self-determination in the region.
It is worth noting that the anthropologists’ work in favour of this goal of independence and autonomy for the Indians, according to Gray, was not separate from the theoretical understanding formulated by Fredrik Barth about the dynamics of ethnic groups and their possibilities for cultural transformation while maintaining the same ethnic identity. Ethnic categories were thus understood as organisational containers that could be filled with different amounts and types of content, depending on the socio-cultural system, including the acquisition of traits considered ’modern’, i.e. the incorporation of technological and cultural repertoires from the surrounding society. The point to be emphasised, however, from the perspective of self-determination defended by the international pro-Indian movement, is that it should be the Indians who have the right to select the new content, and not other agents (Gray 1989 : 73).
In the case of the missionaries, the IWGIA took a critical stance from the outset, exemplified by the article by Lars Persson, one of the organisation’s founders, published in 1969 in the Danish newspaper Kristelig Dagbladet under the title ’Missionaries under attack’. In it, Persson questioned the relationship between missionary organisations and Indians in Latin America, especially in the case of the Summer Institute of Linguistics (SIL), which was accused of acting intensely to hinder the work of anthropologists and of favouring its own (Lars Persson apud IWGIA 1989 :17-18). The authoritarian states responsible for programmes to expand the economic frontier in the Amazon were also severely criticised by the IWGIA, especially in the case of Brazil, where an extensive network of Brazilian anthropologists collaborated with the working group. This network was responsible for sending out countless articles denouncing the actions of the governmental indigenist body, the National Indian Foundation (FUNAI), and proposing mobilisations within society to stop abuses and violations of human rights.
In Gray’s analysis, carried out twenty years after Persson’s article, the Church and the state continued to be criticised, in the sense that they were perceived as bodies that prevented indigenous self-determination :
In Latin America, the Church and the state are the most powerful institutions. They are always willing to support indigenous organisations, but many of them are cautious about accepting this support. In all countries where the state controls indigenous organisations, there is an opposition between the interests of the state and indigenous demands for self-determination. In the same way, the Church controls the ideologies and, even if in many ways it is progressive, the Church structure carries more weight than the recent local indigenous organisations. (Gray 1989 : 83, trans. from the original in Norwegian)
It is on the basis of this argument that Gray justifies the presence of international cooperation as an actor capable of providing political alternatives to the Indians :
Even if this does not apply to the majority, there are a growing number of indigenous organisations that seek independent means of support outside the country for non-partisan objectives, with the concern of obtaining help for their growth and control over their own destiny. It is with these organisations that the IWGIA has the most contact. It is also these groups that contact Norad with their self-development projects. (Gray 1989 : 83, trans. from the original in Norwegian)
The fine line between ’wanting to help so that they can help themselves’ and new forms of colonialism were also pointed out in Gray’s analysis. In this sense, the negotiations between donors and grantees for the selection and implementation of projects are seen as a particularly sensitive point, in which the condition for a less asymmetrical relationship between them is the provision of means for the education and/or training of indigenous organisations. In this context, Gray does not rule out collaboration between the leaders of indigenous organisations and what he calls ’indirect leaders’, such as lawyers, priests, anthropologists and international cooperation technicians ; he comments that it is often the latter who have access to international cooperation funding sources and master their grammar, and are the only ones who can guarantee access to their resources. He predicts, however, that as Indians educate themselves and have their demands for higher education met, rivalries will emerge between Indians and non-Indians over consultancy roles (Gray 1989 : 75-79).
An important aspect to be highlighted in this analysis – in which Norad’s funding for indigenous self-development projects forwarded by the IWGIA is presented as an alternative to the Indians’ dependence on the structures of domination of the state and the Church – is the fact that it does not go far enough in describing international cooperation to understand the complexity and multiplicity of the actors involved.
The detailed study of the Norwegian case shows that these perspectives of support for indigenous self-development are just a few of the many funded by Norad, and that the general assumption that resources from outside are necessarily committed to changing tutelary structures in relation to Indians is highly questionable. We could also discuss the fact that the state and the Church are represented in a monolithic way in this type of analysis, and not as the spaces of political dispute that they actually are, including forces historically committed in Latin America to struggles in favour of indigenous rights to self-determination, without which international pro-Indian cooperation would not have been able to operate.
In this sense, it is worth noting that while Norad supported projects endorsed by the international pro-Indian movement – represented by organisations such as the IWGIA and religious organisations with a progressive profile aligned with that movement, influenced by the principles of liberation theology, such as Norwegian Church Aid (NCA) – during the same period the Norwegian cooperation agency also funded missionary organisations that worked with Indians according to the opposite principles, without any commitment to indigenous rights or self-determination. It is worth noting in this context that the Norwegian government’s support for missionary organisations has not been episodic, and at the beginning of the 2000s it represented the main channel for allocating resources to non-governmental organisations that work with indigenous peoples.
In the 1990s, other types of criticism were levelled at the model of external funding for indigenous organisations ⎯ i.e. through international cooperation ⎯ and the formation of a ’project market’ linked to it, often creating new forms of tutelage and dependency and placing new obstacles in the way of indigenous self-development. This issue had already been foreseen by Gray himself, who put it this way :
Native recipients must be the source of any and all projects. Projects imposed from outside without the consent of the societies they are intended for ⎯ even if they are well-intentioned in principle ⎯ are a form of neo-colonialism. It is not enough for people to participate in the project. The idea as a whole must come from the receiving group, and they must understand what is going on. As the locals themselves say : ’It’s one thing to make your own mistakes, it’s another thing to bear the mistakes of others’ (Gray 1989 : 75, transl. of the original in Norwegian).
If the 1990s marked the decline of the human rights perspective in favour of an emphasis on environmental rights for the many actors involved in international pro-indigenous mobilisations, in the specific case of Norway’s support for indigenous peoples there was an important turning point. This was linked not only to the emergence of organisations with this environmentalist profile, which began to operate with Norad’s support, but also to a change in the way the Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples (NPIP) operates, whose relations with the IWGIA have since become significantly weakened. With the loss of influence over the NPIP, which was no longer managed by Norad, the IWGIA lost ground in the field of development actions, concentrating its activities in the areas of documentation and advocacy, especially in UN and ILO forums. There, it played a leading role in the revision of ILO Convention 107 [17] and in providing input to the work of the UN World Group on Indigenous Populations – WGIP, as well as in the drafting of the Declaration on Indigenous Rights, which took more than twenty years and was finally approved by the UN General Assembly in 2007.
The Norwegian Programme for Indigenous Peoples – NPIP
In the case of Latin America, where the work of the NPIP (Det norske urfolksprogrammet) was concentrated, supporting indigenous rights initially meant supporting organisations located outside the structure of national states since, at least until the end of the 1980s, most of those states had adopted assimilationist policies towards indigenous people. In this sense, the NPIP’s support for indigenous and indigenist non-governmental organisations in Latin America should initially be understood not as part of the canons of neoliberalism that would be consolidated from the 1990s onwards, in which NGO action was seen as a mechanism for providing alternative social services to the state’s downsizing, but as part of a strategy to challenge assimilationist government policies. This strategy was agreed with local actors who aligned themselves with a perspective of defending indigenous rights and creating alternative forms of political representation for them within Latin American states.
The duration of the NPIP, between 1983 and 2000, was marked by two distinct phases. The first, between 1983 and 1990, comprised the period in which the programme was under the administration of Norad, maintaining close links with the IWGIA. In the second, between 1991 and 2000, its administration was transferred to the Institute of Applied Social Science – FAFO, about which we will provide more details below.
In the first period, between 1983 and 1990, the programme was implemented fairly informally, with the choice of support being based mainly on indications coming from the network of IWGIA and Sami contacts in Latin America, built up to a large extent from relations with members of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples – WCIP. The resurgence of the Sami ethnopolitical movement at the end of the 1970s helped give momentum to the idea, explaining the fact that its realisation occurred in the wake of the Alta hydroelectric construction crisis, which marked a major turning point in relations between the Sami and the Norwegian state. The Sami, however, did not play a major role in the programme, concentrating their activities at international level in the pan-indigenous WCIP, taking part in meetings of the International Labour Organisation – ILO with a view to revising Convention 107 of 1957, and in the WGIP, the forum created at the UN in 1982 to deal with indigenous issues.
The second phase of the NPIP, between 1991 and 2000, was shaped by a restructuring of the programme that took place in 1990, when it was taken over by FAFO, a research institute that had always maintained close relations with the Labour Party (Det Norske Arbeiderparti – DNA), Norway’s main political force in the post-war period, actively participating in research aimed at negotiations between employers, employees and the government in the country (Daudelin, Van Rooy & Whiteman 1998 : 35).
At the beginning of the 2000s, the NPIP was removed from FAFO’s control and reintegrated into Norad. By then, various changes had taken place in relations between national states, indigenous peoples and international cooperation agencies, particularly those linked to the changes in international legislation towards a perspective favourable to the self-determination of indigenous peoples with the replacement of ILO Convention 107 by Convention 169 in 1989. Several Latin American states had also introduced constitutional changes along the same lines from the second half of the 1980s onwards, not to mention the fact that the major multilateral development banks, such as the World Bank and the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB), had laid down various rules on safeguarding indigenous rights in their internal guidelines.
Norway’s initial support for indigenous peoples was marked by the denunciation of genocide against these peoples in the name of the ideals of ’development’ ; this was spearheaded by sectors of the Lutheran Church committed to the perspectives of the World Council of Churches, by networks of anthropologists who took a ’pro-Indian’ stance and by the organisations of the Sami people. But these ’heroic times’ were over. The 1990s were characterised by the transformation of the stance of contestation against the establishment at national and international level, which had marked the pro-Indian activism of the 1970s and 1980s, into the conciliatory discourse of environmentalism assumed by the mainstream of international cooperation. The latter sought to create a ’community of interests’ between poor and rich countries in the name of safeguarding the rights of ’future generations’, forging new political alliances in the light of arguments that linked the defence of indigenous interests to environmental interests. In this way, actors who had often been in antagonistic positions, such as indigenous organisations, indigenous support organisations and the major multilateral development banks, were placed side by side.
In the first phase of the programme, marked by the close influence of the IWGIA, there was an openly militant attitude in political terms, in line with the arguments of the first leaders of that organisation, anthropologists Helge Kleivan and Lars Persson. There was a reaction of moral indignation in the face of violence against the physical and cultural integrity of indigenous communities in the lowlands of South America. At the same time, the IWGIA’s stance was also influenced by the theoretical contributions developed in Norway on the persistence of ethnic identities in situations of contact between different groups (Barth 1969).
Next, and already as a result of the concrete experience of supporting indigenous organisations in South America, a more modulated line of argument emerged from the new generation of IWGIA leaders, represented by Andrew Gray. In it, the theoretical justification for supporting indigenous self-determination based on Barth’s contributions (Gray 1989:72–73) is supplemented by a more in-depth reflection on the relations between the state, the Church, international cooperation and indigenous peoples. Special attention was paid to the mechanisms for the formation and operation of indigenous organisations, and the relations between indigenous and non-indigenous interethnic mediators. We are dealing here with a specific grammar developed by anthropologists – halfway between political activism and academic reflection – in which the two levels intersect and feed off each other.
In the second phase of the NPIP’s operation, when it was taken over by FAFO, there was a distancing of relations with the IWGIA which, as a result, lost ground in local actions with indigenous peoples. During this period, the political discourse of the programme was replaced by a more technical discourse linked to the presentation of ’results’, although the NPIP continued to maintain a good degree of flexibility compared to the stance of other funders of actions with indigenous peoples in international cooperation (Daudelin 1998 : 91-92).
Stener Ekern’s studies provide us with important clues as to the type of formulations and views of Norwegian anthropologists on the ’applied’ participation provided by the NPIP experience. In these studies, the concern to situate the actors on the scene is highlighted, including in the analysis of the instances of international cooperation itself, especially in its support for local NGOs, also seeking to map the different perceptions of the actors on the term ’development’ (Ekern 2005 : 69-70).
Ekern’s analyses, focused on the reality of the 1990s, unlike Gray’s in the 1980s, do not seek to provide arguments for international cooperation’s support for indigenous organisations in the light of its role as an element capable of guaranteeing autonomy for indigenous people in the face of other actors, such as the Church and the state. Rather, their aim is to understand the effects of the work of local NGOs funded by international cooperation on the traditional structures of social organisation of indigenous communities in rural areas.
In this way, Ekern shows that NGOs are perceived by indigenous communities as structures that compete with the Church and the state in terms of the provision of goods and services ⎯ in some cases, they may have larger budgets than some city halls. At the same time, they are suspected of being marked by the same vices as those instances, that is, by the presence of what the Indians identify as the prevalence of personal interests typical of the traditional clientelist structures of Latin American politics, in which there is systemic corruption. These interests would clash with the ’communitarian’ perspective of indigenous communities, which would be immune to such vices (Ekern 2005 : 70-71).
Norad’s Support for the Production of Knowledge on Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples : the Forum for Development Cooperation of the Sami Studies Centre
In the 2000s, Norad began to support more systematic reflection and debate on international cooperation with indigenous peoples, supporting events and postgraduate programmes on indigenous issues. Among these, we can highlight the Master’s in Indigenous Studies and the Master’s in Conflict Negotiation and Peace Programmes at the University of Tromsø, which have been a strategic front for producing a critical reflection on Norwegian international cooperation, its effects, actors and objectives. In addition, Norad has allocated funds to the Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples, promoted annually by the Centre for Sami Studies, also at the University of Tromsø, since 2000. This forum seeks to bring together indigenous leaders, members of the Norwegian government bureaucracy linked to cooperation, and representatives of the UN and the ILO, as well as indigenous and non-indigenous intellectuals linked to academia and to participation in international cooperation projects, with an emphasis on both law and development.
The forum represented an important niche linked to the production of a reflective dimension within the universe of international cooperation, seeking to produce not a reflection on, but a reflection with the Indians ; it stopped approaching the indigenous question as one in which the Indians are treated as objects, whether of research, administrative practices, or ’tutelary’ or ’charitable’ support (because they “know less”), and started recognising them as subjects in terms of political and administrative actions and in the field of the production of academic knowledge.
Examples of the search for a dialogical perspective in the relationship with indigenous peoples have been found not only in Norway, but in various other international and national contexts. A representative example of this perspective, sought by certain contemporary currents of anthropology involved in ’applied’ situations concerning indigenous peoples, was formulated by the American anthropologist Dorothy Hogdson, based on her experience of participating in the movement in favour of indigenous rights in Tanzania in the 90s :
Some anthropologists [...] might characterise their position as that of ’interlocutors’ rather than ’collaborators’, that is, academics who share our ideas and work with indigenous groups in ongoing, constructive and, perhaps, even occasionally contentious dialogues and debates in an effort to inform and shape their policies and practices, without directly aligning ourselves with a group or faction of the movement. [...] As I have written elsewhere, based on Ferguson and Gupta (1997), I see ’our political task not as sharing knowledge with those who lack it, but as forging links between different knowledges that are possible from different locations and tracing lines of possible alliances and common purposes between them’. As such, our ’interlocutors’ may be many and varied, including not just indigenous activists, but constituencies, institutions, organisations, and people with which we, and they, engage and interact (Hogdson 2002 : 1045).
Here we can see another important development in the debate on ’applied anthropology’. If British social anthropologists between the world wars made their tools available to help the British colonial administration understand the ’natives’, today a large number of anthropologists work with indigenous peoples with this ’interlocution’ function defined by Hogdson, aiming to contribute to the construction of the categories of analysis and struggle of these peoples. It is worth noting that in this attitude of ’critical consciousness’, anthropologists often take on a thankless role, appearing as the great ’killjoys’ at meetings to draw up political strategies, action programmes and discuss projects. They point out ’essentialisations’, ’undue generalisations’, ’imposition of moralities’, ’plastering over the characteristics of ethnic groups’ or the furtive resurgence of ’tutelary perspectives’, all these issues that their theoretical tools allow them to capture and which would be, let us say, the ’native’ issues of anthropologists themselves.
In this way, a considerable proportion of the ’applied’ work linked to indigenous ethnopolitical movements is informed by this dialogical stance, in which the theoretical dimension and the ’applied’ dimension of the discipline come together, allowing anthropology’s tools of objectification to be used as a subsidy for action. In many cases, its main objective is the establishment of a reflexive stance on the part of the actors involved, contributing to the localisation of the different positions in the situations in which the anthropologist is involved as an interlocutor.
In this way, the anthropologist acts as a mediator, or ’between actors’, not necessarily to achieve certain ends ⎯ and in this sense it is possible to locate an approximation with Sol Tax, who also rejected the ’means and ends’ methodology (Tax 1961 apud Lurie 1961 : 481) ⎯ but to introduce questions that instigate debate and which force the actors, in specific contexts of their struggles for social rights, to understand the game of forces at work. According to Adriana Vianna, a Brazilian anthropologist who works with gender social movements, this mediation refers to defining what anthropologists have to offer to the social groups they work with, especially in situations where ’they are called upon ⎯ by others or by themselves ⎯ to collaborate in the ‘production of rights’’ (Vianna 2005 : 1).
According to this author, taking up a classic debate in the social sciences initiated by Durkheim ([1895] 1974) and developed, among others, by Bourdieu (1989), it is a question of escaping from common sense. This comes about not merely out of a taste for originality or to distinguish social scientists from other professionals, but because of the need to build, in ’applied’ contexts, currencies between anthropologists and the social groups with which they work, in order to make their presence interesting, that is, with an effective contribution to offer in the ongoing debates (Vianna 2005 : 3).
One of the main strengths of anthropologists seeking to work within a profile of advising movements fighting for specific rights, which have marked the political arena since the 1960s, is that they have become specialists in the use of different grammars ⎯ academic, militant and bureaucratic ⎯ and have developed analytical tools to move between them.
Antonio Carlos de Souza Lima, a Brazilian anthropologist specialising in studies on relations between the state and indigenous peoples, offers a variant of this position. Based on an analysis of the forces at work on the contemporary indigenist scene in Brazil, the work of anthropologists takes on not so much a role of advising specific social groups fighting for rights, but a broader role of ’conflict management’ between all the groups involved :
Some major changes could come about if we start by building a bridge between the worlds that have been separated between NGOs and universities, between the activist and the researcher, between what is understood by ’Indian’ and the daily social life of indigenous peoples in Brazil. Instead of a set of stereotypes about their professional work, anthropologists’ attitude in ’applied’ work should be that of humble ’professionals of estrangement’. They will exercise a dialogical attitude, whether within the public administration or debating with an indigenous community about their views on defining the boundaries of their territory. This involves negotiating and translating meanings between Indians, lawyers, agronomists, forestry engineers, doctors and officials from various state institutions, ’reading’ and managing the conflicts between meanings and between social groups that are inherent to life in society. Their task will also be to generate knowledge by writing down the knowledge it generates permanently and in different registers, a political artefact that every text is, and publishing it (Souza Lima 2005 : 10, transl. from the original in Portuguese).
Often, in the case we are analysing (that of the international pro-Indian movement funded by Norwegian cooperation), the anthropologist is an interested party in conflicts. And so perhaps the skill that makes the anthropologist useful in managing them, as pointed out above, is knowing how to move between different grammars in order to provide informed advice for the construction of arguments by one of the parties involved in the conflicts : the Indians. The incorporation of this reflexive dimension of anthropological work for the benefit of advising indigenous groups became especially relevant in the case of another programme funded by Norad from the second half of the 1980s, The Remote Area Development Programme – RADP, which we will analyse below. By this means, we will be able to continue mapping the different grammars ⎯ theoretical, bureaucratic and political ⎯ within which Norwegian anthropologists involved in international support for movements in favour of indigenous rights have moved.
The Remote Area Development Programme and the Theoretical Reflection on the International Pro-Indian Movement Financed with International Cooperation Resources
The Remote Area Development Programme (RADP) was aimed at the San people (also called Basarwa or Bushmen) and was created by the Botswana government in 1974, supported by Norad following a bilateral cooperation agreement signed between the two countries in 1988. Although the agreement mentioned the intention of preserving the cultural integrity of the ’inhabitants of remote areas’ and the programme in Norway was entitled ’Minority groups in remote areas’, the fact is that, on the part of the Botswana government, it had been outlined simply as a poverty alleviation programme, with no mention of the ethnic specificities of the San. In this way, different conceptions of how to deal with the issue of ethnic minorities on the part of the two governments came into play and became a source of tension between them in the years following the agreement.
Norad’s involvement in the RADP was related to the belief that the situation of the San in Botswana offered a parallel to the situation of the Sami in Norway, and that the Norwegian government’s experience with it could be utilised in Botswana with regard to the creation of mechanisms for the political representation of ethnic minorities ⎯ and, more specifically, indigenous people ⎯ within national states (Saugestad 2006 : 2). Rather than being taken as an example of the mechanisms of domination often involved in the work of international cooperation bodies linked to development issues, Norad’s participation in this programme can be understood as an instrument of diplomatic pressure from one government on another, benefitting a certain segment of the population with the acquisition of rights.
However, in the context of African decolonisation and the processes of struggle against apartheid and other racist colonial policies, the issue of promoting differentiated policies for ethnic minorities constantly had a negative connotation associated with old colonialist practices, even if, as in this case, they were intended to promote positive rights rather than discriminatory measures. Furthermore, the definition of the San as an ’indigenous’ people was not a point of consensus either. In fact, the debate over the attribution of ’indigenous’ status to nomadic and semi-nomadic tribal peoples in Africa was still a matter of dispute in most African countries, whose governments did not accept this definition.
Norad’s policy faced resistance from the Botswanan government right from the start of the agreement, even though the agency adopted a strategy of persuasion and convincing, rather than a strategy of confrontation with the Botswanan authorities, hoping that over time it would be possible to get the programme moving in the ’right direction’ (Saugestad 2006 : 3).
Unlike other international cooperation actions with indigenous peoples funded by Norway, the RADP case did not involve direct support for indigenous and indigenist organisations, but rather a bilateral diplomatic channel between states, linked to the development apparatus. The aim was to influence the political and administrative decisions of a donor country by giving a specific legal status to a particular group within its borders. Not all of Norad’s staff in Botswana ⎯ which for a long time was the main recipient of Norwegian cooperation in Africa ⎯ were willing to clash with the country’s government over RADP. However, the inclusion of Norwegian anthropologists in the programme in the early 1990s brought out a ’culturalist’ stance more clearly, as they sought to bring the question of the ethnic identity of the San and the implications of this identity for the project in question into the public debate.
The anthropologists’ strategy included holding two seminars in 1992 and 1993, based on a joint initiative between Norad and the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency – SIDA, with the support of the organisation First People of the Kalahari – FPK, set up in 1992 to defend the interests of the San with the Botswanan government, counting on resources from international organisations that support indigenous people, including the IWGIA.
According to Sidsel Saugestad, a UiT anthropologist who took part in the RADP between 1992 and 1993 and was responsible for Norad’s support for the two seminars that debated the issue of the ethnic identity of the San, the main problem of the programme’s approach as a simple ’poverty alleviation’ initiative was
[...] depriving the group of dignity, since its members were reduced to passive recipients of government donations. By being ignorant of [the San’s] cultural characteristics, their cultural knowledge became irrelevant. It was not just a question of considering that the San were ignorant, but that they had the wrong kind of knowledge, linked to their nomadic disposition (Saugestad 2006 : 3).
The support given to the ’culturalisation’ of the RADP in the early 90s and that given by the IWGIA to the FPK can also be read as issues associated with the rearrangement of forces between the actors involved in Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples, resulting from the transfer of management of the NPIP to FAFO, also in the early 90s. This meant that the IWGIA lost its influence over the NPIP and looked for new fronts of action, linked to other geographies, outside the NPIP’s area of influence, which was essentially geared towards Latin America. In this sense, the visibility of the San issue as one of ethnicity within the RADP could be understood as the result of the work of an ’Africanist’ network that was an alternative to the NPIP’s ’Americanist’ network in the 1990s, and which was in dispute with it for Norad resources, counting on the support of the IWGIA and combining its work with its own. It is worth remembering that the IWGIA has invested in the institutional strengthening of the FPK for almost ten years, since its creation in 1992 (Hitchcock & Enghoff 2004).
However, the case of the RADP should not only be analysed as a question of a dispute over the resources made available by Norwegian cooperation between ’Africanists’ and ’Americanists’, but also as a competition over international strategies to support indigenous people. Thus, the IWGIA network, some sectors of the RADP and the Sami people’s organisations ⎯ which not only continued the institutional capacity building work of the First People of Kalahari organisation started by the IWGIA, but also took on the role of supporting the creation of regional pan-indigenous organisations in Africa from the 2000s onwards (Borchgrevink 2004) – defended an open strategy of ’Indianising’ the issue of nomadic and tribal peoples on the continent. Meanwhile, other actors, supported by Norad resources, defended a stance defined as ’more pragmatic’, in which it was not always necessary to claim this status. Particularly noteworthy in this case was the position of the environmental organisation Rainforest Foundation Norway, which, in the early 2000s, received most of the Norad funds earmarked for Norwegian non-governmental organisations working with indigenous peoples, with the exception of the missions [18].
During the first meeting of the Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples at the University of Tromsø in 2000, Lars Løvold, an anthropologist and director of the Rainforest Foundation Norway, whose work was initially concentrated in Brazil, but had spread throughout the 1990s to Asia and Oceania, made a statement. He said that, given that the organisation’s ’primary objective’ was the defence of the rainforests, there was no concern on its part to demand that the governments of the countries where it was active recognise the status of ’indigenous’ peoples who inhabited those forests, as long as agreements were reached that guaranteed their traditional way of life and the preservation of the forests. The organisation advocated a flexible approach to donor action, to be defined on a case-by-case basis, depending on an assessment of the gains and losses in each situation (Senter for Samiske Studier 2000 : 19–20).
The actors working with indigenous peoples with funds from Norwegian international cooperation could be considered as forming a ’field’, in the Bourdieusian sense of the term, disputing not only resources, but also political and symbolic legitimacy in the face of funding from Norad and the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It can thus be seen that they opened up a new field of reflection from the 1990s onwards, in which the theoretical contributions of Norwegian anthropology played a central role, constituting new developments in relation to what had been produced in this field until the end of the 80s. Sidsel Saugestad, took as his starting point his experience within the RADP, as a member of the IWGIA board of directors and his participation in numerous international seminars and forums for debate on the indigenous question, including the annual meetings of the WGIP in Geneva (Saugestad 2005 : 32). He offered the main contributions in this direction, creating a front of analysis on the links between the local, national and international levels of indigenous mobilisations.
In the case of Saugestad, it was not just a question, as in Gray (1989), of analysing the local effects of international cooperation support for indigenous peoples, but also of assessing the degree of independence and autonomy from the Church and state that cooperation could provide them. While Gray’s analyses were based above all on the conditions of the indigenous situation in Latin America prior to the 1990s, Saugestad’s were based on post-1990 African conditions, proposing a reflection on the difficulties of international cooperation in strengthening local indigenous organisations. She went one step further than Gray, analysing the strategies of action of the different actors in international cooperation with indigenous peoples, rather than their effects at local level.
In an article published in 2006, Saugestad – whose doctoral thesis included a reflection on his experience of participating in the RADP [19] – contrasted two strategies : that of ’persuasion and convincing’ in favour of the ’Indianisation’ of the San issue, employed by Norad with the Botswanan authorities, and that of confrontation, chosen by the British non-governmental organisation Survival International, which preferred to denounce the actions of the Botswana government. This action was aimed at displacing the San population from the Central Kalahari Game Reserve and was linked to the defence of the spurious interests of international diamond mining companies on the reserve’s land.
According to Saugestad, ’persuasion’ strategies like Norad’s can only achieve results over long periods of time, which is not usually the case with projects funded by international cooperation. Survival International’s strategy, based on major international media campaigns, was judged by the author to be responsible for a serious result, that of ’drowning out the voice’ of the incipient local San organisations, appearing to public opinion as those who ’spoke on behalf of the San’ (Saugestad 2006 : 172-175). She points out that the main flaw in both Norad’s and Survival International’s case was the lack of participation by the target group of the actions, i.e. the San. She draws attention to the risks of the emergence of new forms of domination linked to the work of international cooperation, resulting not so much from the donors’ control over financial resources, but from their control of knowledge in one of its most flourishing areas, that of advocacy activities :
We need to recognise the asymmetry between those who know and those who are known about. This also applies to knowledge generated through advocacy. ’External’ involvement can represent a shift from manifest to latent forms of domination, through the muting of voices. It is above all unintentional dumbing down that we should beware of (Saugestad 2006 : 179).
Another development produced by Saugestad in relation to Gray’s reflections from the 1980s was his analysis of the meaning and limits of the indigenous movement’s model of action on three levels : local, national and international (the latter consisting mainly of UN agencies and ILO sections). Although she recognises the success of this model in various cases, especially in liberal democracies of the ’First World’ [20], Saugestad analyses the obstacles to its implementation in the African case, associated above all with the lack of mobilisation at local level. According to Saugestad, the success of the model in question would depend on a consistent coordination between the three levels, which should work with the same timing :
The dilemma lies in the temporal dimension, because indigenous organisations have to relate in three directions at the same time : a) at a local level, which is extremely poor, marginalised, demoralised and uninformed ; b) with an international system which, on the other hand, is well organised, inclusive and friendly ; and c) with a national level, which is decisive for the success of the actions, i.e. for meeting the demands made, and which is therefore central, but also generally the most sceptical. (Saugestad 2005 : 27, transl. from the original in Norwegian)
It is a scheme in which the presence of different levels of action and influence is located and the decisive aspect of the national level in the indigenous question is recognised – contrary to many analyses carried out today on the loss of the impact of national states in the face of the logic of ’globalisation’. It is on the basis of this framework that Saugestad analyses the issue of the San in Botswana and the ’failure’, so to speak, of attempts to strengthen their organisations, which were supposed to bridge the local, national and international levels.
Saugestad names the lack of support from local populations for the organisations representing their interests as the main difficulty in advancing the movement to demand rights for the San. She concludes that the availability of international financial resources to promote the strengthening of indigenous organisations alone does not guarantee the success of mobilisations in favour of indigenous rights if they are not anchored in grassroots demands and mobilisations, i.e. the model does not work ’from the top down’ and cannot be artificially created by the mere presence of external financial resources (Saugestad 2005 : 27).
The theoretical reflections on indigenous movements by Trond Thuen, another Norwegian anthropologist, carried out in the context of the ethnopolitical mobilisations of the Sami people within the Norwegian state (Thuen 1995), allowed Saugestad to explain the ’failure’ of indigenous mobilisations in Botswana. This was based on the idea that the processes of ethnogenesis have two phases : the first, constituted by so-called ’identity politics’ ; and the second, by the transposition of demands arising in this sphere into the realm of ’rights politics’. The latter could be read, using Marx’s concepts, as the passage from ’consciousness of self’ to ’consciousness for self’ within the terrain, in this case, not of social classes, as analysed by that author, but of ethnic groups.
In Botswana, there was an attempt to reach the second phase without the first phase having matured, which would account for the difficulties encountered in the experience of promoting the constitution of local organisations to demand the rights of the San (Saugestad 2005 : 27) [21]. It should be emphasised that in Saugestad’s use of Thuen’s contribution, we are dealing with the transposition of the Sami experience to the case of Botswana, this time not at the level of political-administrative proposals for relations between national states and ethnic minorities, but rather theoretical proposals forged by the anthropological discipline. This explains the need for anthropologists to handle administrative, political and academic grammars simultaneously in order to move into the ’applied’ field with some success and, in a way, reproduces Sol Tax’s formulation in the 1950s about the ’anthropology of action’, that is, the kind of anthropology whose theory is produced ’when acting’ (Tax 1958 : 17).
The Debate over the Use of the Category ’Indigenous’ among Anthropologists Involved in International Pro-Indian Activism
At the same time as this movement of reflection on the dynamics of pro-Indian mobilisations was taking shape, combining multi-local instances and the possibilities for dialogue between them, another community of argument was forming, composing an internal debate within the anthropological discipline, linked to the use of the concept of ’indigenous’ by anthropologists involved in international pro-Indian activism. The debate, which brought anthropologists of various nationalities face to face from the mid-1990s onwards, including Norwegians, represented by Sidsel Saugestad (2004), peaked with the publication in 2003 of an article by South African anthropologist Adam Kuper (2003) in the journal Current Anthropology, entitled ’The Return of the Native’, and spread to the pages of other specialised journals in the following years [22]. This debate can thus be read as an expression of the disputes between anthropologists in relation to pro-Indian political activism, based on a theoretical discussion about the use of the category ’indigenous’. What is striking in this case is that we are once again faced with an example of the inter-influence of the fields of ’theory’ and ’practice’ in anthropology.
Kuper, who was one of the theorists who contributed to the deconstruction of the term ’primitive’ in the discipline, tracing the history of the ’invention of the primitive’ (Kuper 1988), used the same line of reasoning against those who worked in the international pro-Indian movement using the category ’indigenous’. However, by equating the use of the category ’primitive’ with the use of the category ’indigenous’, Kuper depoliticised the issue, decontextualising their differential uses, the former associated with European projects of colonial domination and the latter with contemporary struggles against the post-colonial effects of colonialism. By granting the same theoretical status to both categories, Kuper equated the demands supported by the international pro-Indian movement with the demands of representatives of apartheid policies, ignoring – as pointed out by Brazilian anthropologist Alcida Ramos in the debate in the pages of the journal Current Anthropology – elementary issues of power differentials :
To put indigenous demands for legitimate difference, Nazi racism and South African apartheid in the same category is to miss the point of power differentials. In other words, to put Western powers of conquest on an equal footing with ethnic demands for recognition is either to ignore or to minimise the violence of Western expansion (Ramos 2003 : 327).
The ’technification’ of the theoretical debate suggested by Kuper has added very little in terms of understanding the political clashes at stake, as it has attempted to ignore them, as if they were not part of the game of using concepts. Anthropologists such as Fredrik Barth have produced a theoretical tool that has made it possible to understand the political dynamics of ethnic phenomena, as well as to perceive essentialisations as political mechanisms that are part of the processes of constructing ethnic boundaries (Barth 1969 and 2000). Kuper, meanwhile, has contributed in the opposite direction, pointing to theoretical aspects that plaster over the issues and are incapable of explaining the dynamic nature of the political disputes surrounding categorisations or, more importantly, the fact that categorisations are in themselves political acts.
Kuper’s ’denunciation’ of anthropologists working with the international indigenous movement, accusing them of practising ’old’ anthropology and rehabilitating the ’primitive societies’ of classical anthropological discourse, lumping together, without contextualising, the use of terms such as ’indigenous’, ’primitive’, ’tribal’, ’hunter’, ’nomadic people’ and the like, would itself be tainted by an ’old’ conception of political phenomena.
In the episode of the debate raised by Kuper, the ’indigenous question’ emerges as an arena for the construction of boundaries between anthropologists themselves, marking positions ’inside’ and ’outside’ academia, public administration and political activism ; between those who study the ’global’ and those who study the ’local’ ; between those who research ’culture’ and those who research ’politics’ ; between those who study the ’State’ and those who study ’society’ etc. All of these rather artificial differentiations are much more linked to mechanisms of distinction within the profession itself than to a real isolation between these domains, so that studying the indigenous question forces anthropologists to reflect on their own worlds, and to include themselves in a portrait of which they sometimes, inexplicably, place themselves outside.
The motivations of anthropologists for getting involved in work with indigenous peoples would merit a study in itself, which is not, however, within the scope of this text. However, some clues in this direction can be found in some of their testimonies, in which it is possible to detect at least two major and important lines of motivation : the first is linked to a moral feeling of correcting injustices, extremely well represented in this testimony by Sol Tax ⎯ one of the anthropologists who first became involved with the defence of indigenous rights to self-determination ⎯ about his relationship with the Indians :
Several Indians [...] offered me their friendship and I reciprocated. But is that enough to explain almost 60 years of trying to be useful [to them] ? There is pleasure and satisfaction in any opportunity to help a friend and, since childhood, I have sought out these opportunities. I felt a combination of emotions of anger and injustice ⎯ the wrong classmate being punished, the child being beaten up by the bully. But I grew to realise that, while it was individual acts of injustice that sparked anger and dismay in me, it was social injustice that struck deepest in my heart, producing lasting resentment. I was thus able to understand perfectly the Indians’ accounts of their feelings of loss (Tax 1988 : 15).
This line can undoubtedly be linked to the feeling of indignation against the genocide committed against indigenous peoples that led to the creation of numerous international pro-indigenous organisations from the 1960s onwards, including the IWGIA. A variant that is not so closely related to this, and which we have identified as a second line of motivations, is that related to the presence of a certain utopian thinking among anthropologists, including Alan Barnard, an expert on the San. He even compares the contemporary phenomenon of NGOs to the possibility of reviving the feeling of collective solidarity experienced by that group, in turn associated with the anarchist utopias of stateless societies (Barnard 2003).
In fact, the ideal of removing peoples and groups from state control, from the perspective of keeping them within communitarian societies where there is no presence of private property and where there is no centralised political authority, is also part of some currents in the indigenous movement, whose leaders have spoken out in favour of recognising not just indigenous peoples, but indigenous nations. Undoubtedly, less ’noble’ motivations, linked to interests and calculations of career and prestige and the mere chance of obtaining opportunities to enter the profession of anthropologist – whether in the academic field or in the growing labour market opened up in governmental and non-governmental bodies focused on indigenous issues – are also part of the game of possibilities that explains the transformation of anthropologists into ’interethnic mediators’, with greater or lesser legitimacy with indigenous peoples and their leaders.
Once again, the theoretical elaborations of Norwegian anthropologists are of use, allowing us to conceive the relationships that are established between Indian and non-Indian mediators in the international pro-Indian movement as another space for the construction of the ethnic frontier (Barth 1969). In this space there is also room for the processes of ’complementarisation’ and ’dichotomisation’ described by Norwegian anthropologist Harald Eidheim, in which collaborative relationships between different ethnic groups aimed at achieving common goals are accompanied by markings of distinction, in which the interest in highlighting differences in position and identity between individuals becomes clear (Eidheim 1971).
On the other hand, it is also worth remembering that actors who until recently were seen as ’others’ within the anthropological discipline, such as the indigenous peoples themselves and missionaries, to cite two examples, have increasingly appropriated the discipline’s instruments and formed a large part of its cadres within it. Missionaries have been important sources of feelings and attitudes linked to the involvement of Norwegian international cooperation actors with indigenous peoples, even though, as already pointed out, they have become the great ’other’ among these actors. This does not mean, however, that many of the values linked to their work ⎯ such as ’help for self-help’, valuing practical measures rather than doctrinal preaching, and ’education by example’ ⎯ are not part of the repertoire of other Norwegian actors.
In this sense, it is worth remembering that the work of missionaries in Norway has been considered by some to be the main factor in the country’s national unity from the 19th century onwards, by connecting countless isolated communities with their preaching activities, as well as having permeated a large part of individual values and attitudes, not only of the Norwegians, but also of the Sami. To give an idea of the extent of Christian influence among them even today, it is worth noting that the Centre for Sami Studies at the University of Tromsø has a translator of the Bible into Sami. It should be emphasised that Christianity, under the aegis of the Læstadian current, which emerged in the mid-19th century and is linked to the idea of building a ’proper Sami Christianity’, is something that forms a central part of the ethnic identity of many among the Sami people, even serving to identify them in some regions of Norway.
The International Actions of the Sami in the Field of Indigenous Rights and in the Development Apparatus : the Debate between ’Solidarity’ and ’Self-Interest’
In the case of the Sami, it should be emphasised that all undertakings linked to the field of affirming indigenous rights at international level are considered to be part of their ’international cooperation’ activities, something I was able to deduce from interviews and exchanges of correspondence with Sami leaders [23]. They thus point to the particularities that the indigenous presence, under the aegis of ethnic identity affirmation movements and the construction of national and international mechanisms for political representation, has introduced into the more general debates on ’development cooperation’, considerably broadening the scope originally envisaged for its work, aimed at promoting economic development in ’Third World’ countries.
What is striking in this context is the debate between ’solidarity’ and ’self-interest’ in the early days of the Sami’s accession to the international indigenous movement, reproducing the discussions that took place in the context of Norwegian international cooperation in general. It is worth pointing out that, unlike what happened in the non-indigenous spaces associated with the universe of Norwegian cooperation, the term used by the Sami from their first connections with the international indigenous movement was samarbeid, which literally means ’cooperation’ or ’mutual help’ in Norwegian. The contrast is significant in relation to the other sectors of the Norwegian cooperation universe, which, at least until the 1990s, exclusively used the terms hjelp (aid) or bistand (assistance) to describe their relations with the ’grantees’. The term samarbeid only came into use when attempts were made, following the trends of the international development establishment from the 1990s onwards, to give a more egalitarian content to relations between ’donors’ and ’grantees’, which nevertheless maintained an asymmetrical and often subalternising bias.
Solidarity has been an important value both in the Sami’s actions in support of the international indigenous movement from the 1970s onwards, and in the Norwegian government’s actions aimed at the ’Third World’ from the 1950s onwards. Yet the former have always been seen as actions of ’cooperation’ because they involve a dimension associated with the common struggle for the conquest of rights by marginalised groups within their respective national states, thus allowing for the formation of a shared feeling of symmetry, forged from the construction of a joint political project. On the other hand, the solidarity expressed by the Norwegian government in its actions of ’aid’ to the Third World – with its genesis marked by the ’great divide’ established by Harry Truman’s speech in 1949, which placed ’poor’ and ’rich’, ’underdeveloped’ and ’developed’ countries on different sides – ended up establishing not a feeling of identification, as in the case of the indigenous peoples, but of contrast between the two groups.
As analysed by Norwegian historian Terje Tvedt, this second type of solidarity was actually based on a feeling of ’altruism’, in which it was assumed that one was acting only for the ’good of the other’. In this context, Tvedt highlights the fact that development cooperation actions have always been publicly presented under an aura of ’goodness’, which was the main self-representation of the Norwegian cooperation system (Tvedt 1998:2003). However, while the stated aim of the latter was linked to the ’good feelings’ of a group engaged in ’giving’ to others, what was actually at stake, according to this author, was the construction of a political project that established tutelary perspectives and was based on asymmetrical positions of power.
It is in this context that the demands expressed by the Sami in the early 2000s for an increase in the channelling of resources from Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples to Sami people’s organisations can be placed, according to what they defined as urfolk til urfolk samarbeid, i.e. cooperation from-indigenous-people-to-indigenous-people. According to a speech by Sami Council representative Half Halonen at the first meeting of the Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples, held in 2000 at the University of Tromsø, this type of cooperation allowed for the implementation of more symmetrical relations in the world of cooperation with indigenous peoples. It was highlighted that the Sami Council, unlike other actors involved in Norwegian cooperation, had never taken the initiative to propose projects, always waiting to be expressly consulted by indigenous organisations before getting involved in any kind of collaboration (Senter for Samiske Studier 2000:18).
According to Halonen, the Sami Council’s first cooperation initiatives began in the 1970s, during the civil war in Guatemala, when the organisation implemented agricultural development projects among groups of Mayan refugees with funds from Norad, the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Swedish International Development Agency – SIDA. He complained, however, that over time it became increasingly difficult to obtain funds from Norad, attributing this to the latter’s belief in the Sami’s supposed involvement in financing the guerrilla war in Guatemala, which was always denied by their organisations.
Regardless of these accusations, Halonen considered it difficult in general to obtain resources from the Norwegian agency, both as an indigenous organisation and for cooperation with indigenous peoples, calling for Norad to change their stance on this issue. At the beginning of the 2000s, the Sami Council had projects in Guatemala, Nicaragua, Peru, Panama and Tanzania (idem). With the restructuring of Norwegian cooperation with indigenous peoples in the 2000s, these demands were partly met, with the Sami Council being given resources to work with the San people and the organisation the First People of Kalahari – FPK, in Botswana. The Sami also obtained support to help structure a pan-African indigenous organisation, the Organisation for Indigenous People of Africa – OIPA, based in Tanzania.
The actions in the field of international cooperation promoted by the Sami with funds from the Norwegian government are not, however, limited to the field of law or development, but also extend to initiatives aimed at training international indigenous leaders and producing knowledge on indigenous issues. These activities are combined in numerous international agreements in the area of higher education, supported with funds from The Norwegian Programme for Development, Research and Education – NUFU (Nasjonalutvalg for utviklingsrelatert forskning og utdanning), administered by Norad, with the participation of Sami intellectuals from various academic areas, from Sami and Norwegian universities and research institutions [24].
The Debate on the Sami’s Demand for an Increase in Norad Resources for Indigenous-People-to-Indigenous-People Cooperation
The increase in resources for indigenous-to-indigenous cooperation (urfolk til urfolk samarbeid) demanded by the Sami was the subject of several challenges from non-indigenous actors linked to Norwegian cooperation. Arguments that disqualified this demand on the grounds that representatives of the Sami elite would have as little identification with poor Indians in Latin America as someone from the Norwegian elite were prominent. This type of objection was made clear, for example, by Indra Øverland, a Norwegian researcher at the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs – NUPI, who has participated in consultancies and evaluations on Norwegian international cooperation with indigenous peoples. Thus, according to Øverland’s talk at the Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples in 2002, it would be possible to distinguish between two basic positions in cooperation with indigenous peoples : one he called ’populist’ and the other ’technocratic’. In his view, both face problems in implementing actions aimed at strengthening the institutions of indigenous peoples and promoting their rights. Øverland, who associated the Sami organisations with a populist stance, commented (according to the summary of his talk in the proceedings of that event) that
[...] it is not obvious that the educated and politicised elite of the indigenous peoples in rich countries would have very much in common with the indigenous recipients in partner countries. [...] this elite might be very different from other indigenous people at home. Indigenous-to-indigenous aid is closely related to a modern global indigenous ideology, emphasising the similarities between different groups that are marginalised in very different contexts. [...] [Thus,] one cannot automatically assume that the experience of marginalisation in one context makes it easier to communicate or work with peoples living in another marginalised context. An indigenous person from a rich country, with high wages, skills in English and Spanish, nice clothes and a Visa card travelling to Latin America is in a very different position from his or her local counterpart [in the grantee countries]. The Sami and other indigenous peoples with ’Western’ features may also be categorised very different from other indigenous peoples in many Latin American settings. (Center for Sami Studies 2002 : 13)
Øverland’s speech points to problems already identified by members of the Sami elite themselves (cf. Hætta 2000) and observed throughout the circuit of international cooperation with indigenous peoples, in the context of the transition from ’charisma to routine’ and the ’professionalisation of NGOs’ analysed by various researchers of indigenism in Brazil (Barroso Hoffmann 2009). It draws attention to other aspects that I believe deserve to be highlighted. Firstly, it gives us a good idea of the representations about indigenous peoples that circulate in the world of international cooperation, including the idea that indigenous intellectual elites with a good economic situation are a phenomenon restricted to ’rich’ countries, thus reproducing old stereotypes in which ’donors’ are always associated with ’wealth’ and ’grantees’ with ’poverty’. A brief contact with the reality of the indigenous intellectual elites in Brazil, for example, a country emblematic of the work done by Norwegians with indigenous peoples, would be enough to dispel this type of inference, showing that indigenous people in a good economic situation are not a privilege of the ’donor’ countries.
In addition, Øverland’s speech also warns of the difficulty of accepting the fact that indigenous peoples, just like any other political communities, depend on the formation of elites to address their demands within the national states in which they live. It is worth noting here the feeling that we are once again faced with a prejudiced view in which obtaining an education along the lines of other groups in the population, or reaching economic levels on a par with them, is something that somehow makes Indians ’less Indian’. This effectively denies the existence of a differentiated experience between those who belong to an ethnic minority and those who do not, regardless of the standard of living they enjoy, and the different ways of relating to the minority situation that these positions imply.
The desire to cooperate with other indigenous peoples is not unanimous among the Sami, nor is being Sami something that leads someone inexorably to want to publicly assume a collective identity that is different from the rest of the population, or even to consider themselves an ’indigenous people’. All of these attitudes involve, first and foremost, the political dimension of ethnic phenomena, so well identified by Norwegian anthropology, whose genesis and developments, particularly in relation to indigenous issues, we will examine below.
If it can be said that in the case of the Sami, participating in mechanisms linked to international cooperation – whether in the field of rights or development – was directly related to their contemporary mechanisms of social reproduction, the construction of ethnic boundaries and the production of new forms of political representation, in the case of anthropologists, involvement with cooperation was marked by very different injunctions. Among them, as we shall see are prominent mechanisms for the autonomisation of the anthropological discipline and issues linked to the political engagement of anthropologists and their involvement with ’practice’, as well as theoretical developments involving both the analysis of ethnic phenomena in general and the constitution of the category ’indigenous’ as an instrument of the struggle for political rights.
In Search of a Reflexive Stance on the Production of Indigenous Knowledge : the Case of Sami Anthropologists
The debates unleashed in the mid-1990s by Sami anthropologists trained at the University of Tromsø, which took over the pages of Norway’s leading anthropology journal, the Norsk Antropologisk Tidskrift (cf. Hovland 1996 ; Stordahl 1996 ; Thuen 1996), are a good example of what I am describing as a ’reflective tradition’ within the university. I refer to the meaning of these debates as a reflection on the political practices of the Sami and, in particular, on the process of ’taking over’ university and academic spaces by their intellectuals, which started with the creation of the Nordic Sami Institute – NSI, in 1974, in the city of Kautokeino. Since that time, it had already become clear to many Sami intellectuals that achieving the position of producers of knowledge about themselves was a central issue for advancing the struggles in defence of their rights within the Norwegian state. This perspective is explained as follows by Vigdis Stordhal, one of the Sami anthropologists involved in the debates in the journal :
The possibilities for the peoples of the Fourth World to take control of the field of knowledge rest on being able to establish their own knowledge institutions and to achieve a dialogical position, both from an organisational and academic point of view, in relation to the bodies and institutions of the majority society. (Stordahl 1996 : 177, transl. from the original in Norwegian)
Despite this favourable view of the constitution of academic spaces controlled by the Sami as described by Stordahl, the Sami intellectuals linked to the creation of the Nordic Sami Institute – NSI did not initially oppose the creation of a Sami studies area run by Norwegian researchers. This took place within the Institute of Anthropology at the newly created University of Tromsø – UiT, established shortly before the NSI in 1972, with the prospect of becoming a regionally orientated institution focused on solving the problems of the populations living in northern Norway, including the Sami [25].
The founders of the NSI were initially positive about the prospect of maintaining relations with Norwegian higher education institutions, especially those with an influence on the development of regions inhabited by the Sami, as was the case with the UiT. Before long, however, discourse began among NSI intellectuals questioning who should have the right of ownership and definition over research among the Sami. These questions eventually led to the dissolution of the Sami studies area at the UiT’s Institute of Anthropology, despite the strategic role that its researchers had played in favour of the Sami’s ethnopolitical movements, above all by challenging, as Stordhal put it, ’[...] the Norwegian universe of meanings through their analyses of Norwegian minority politics’, while also playing an unequivocal advocacy role in relation to the Sami’s demands (Stordahl 1996 : 183).
At the same time, tensions had also arisen in the field of Sami studies between Sami students ⎯ including Vigdis Stordhal herself [26] ⎯ and anthropology professors at the UiT. While the latter’s main concern was to ’make the most unfamiliar parts of Norwegian reality, namely the Sami, understandable to individual Norwegians’ (idem:180), there was a huge lack of knowledge among the Sami students themselves about their reality, creating a gap that they claimed to fill by drawing on their specific background as Sami. For many of them, entering university represented their first concrete experience of contact with Sami individuals from regions other than their own, often with different linguistic forms and cultural habits, whose presence created the possibility of obtaining first-hand knowledge that did not simply reproduce the anecdotal character transmitted by the Norwegian school system about these differences. In addition, many were encountering the production of academic, especially ethnographic, knowledge about their groups for the first time. Stordhal describes the impact of the university experience on the Sami students of his generation as follows :
[...] we found a new world about the Sami in the libraries [...] in historical, pedagogical and anthropological analyses, and when we were introduced to social science studies. [In addition,] we students from Finnmark met Sami students from Ulsfjord, Manndalen and Skånland. It was liberating and painful at the same time. Liberating because we gained a new understanding of ourselves, and painful because we realised how excluded we had been from all this before. Our project then became a part of the wider Sami project of that time, which [Harald] Eidheim called ’the invention of selfhood and peoplehood’. (Stordhal 1996 : 181, trans. from the original in Norwegian)
Although this broader Sami project of ’self-invention’ coincided with the proposal spearheaded by NSI intellectuals, Sami anthropology students at UiT began to want the university’s Sami studies group to provide them with the theoretical tools they needed to critique the ’politics of knowledge’ proposed by the NSI. This advocated the creation of university institutions and research centres controlled exclusively by Sami, aimed at producing and disseminating knowledge about them.
In other words, the Sami anthropology students were calling for the development of the capacity to problematise ⎯ what I am calling ’reflexivity’ ⎯ the role played by the Sami in relation to the production of knowledge aimed at ’representing themselves’ ; and this from the analytical tools of anthropology and from the perspective of creating a dialogue between the members of the Sami community, and not just between the Sami and the Norwegians. In this sense, they criticised the retreat of the Norwegian professors from the Institute of Anthropology at UiT for having given up on maintaining the area of Sami studies, considering that this deprived Sami students of the possibility of cultivating this reflective perspective ⎯ a term used by Stordahl ⎯ which has become one of the hallmarks of anthropology among the Sami themselves (idem:184). In the words of the author analysing the situation :
The important consequences [of this retreat], both in terms of understanding what happened between teachers and students, and in terms of understanding what happened between the two competing producers of knowledge ⎯ anthropological circles and the Sami intelligentsia ⎯ were not taken seriously enough. This contributed, among other things, to Tromsø’s anthropology failing to develop an important side of its critical function, something that the discipline, at least ideally, should strive to develop. It exercised an important and constructive critique of Norwegian society and the latter’s understanding and administration of Sami society, but the same [...] did not occur in the case of the propositions about the new role of the Sami [intellectual] elite in the development of modern Sami society, including the role that this political elite assumed as a producer of knowledge (Stordahl 1996 : 184).
He goes on to assess the relationship between Sami students and anthropology professors as follows :
[...] anthropological circles could have paved the way for critical knowledge in relation to Sami society, building a relationship of trust between students and teachers in the work situation, in such a way that the students ⎯ who also had a cultural background that gave them legitimacy ⎯ could have gained the security to take on the role of cultural critics of the [Sami] knowledge producers. They could have developed the role of anthropologically informed intermediaries between the Sami knowledge world and the Norwegian academic world, functioning critically and liberatingly in relation to both. The point that Tromsø’s anthropology is situated in a field of tensions between the Norwegian academic world and the context of Fourth World knowledge politics must be accepted as a fact. There are, however, new aspects in this context that could give Tromsø anthropology and its partners in the Fourth World a new chance to build mutual relationships of trust. (Stordahl 1996 : 184-185)
The relationships of trust envisaged by Stordhal, if not fully established, took shape from the 2000s onwards, largely thanks to the implementation of a series of initiatives linked to the field of international cooperation. These depended on the joint efforts and dialogue of a significant number of UiT anthropologists, located both at the Institute of Anthropology and at the Tromsø Museum, with Sami professionals from various fields, distributed in other UiT institutes and departments, as well as at the university’s Centre for Sami Studies, created in 1993. These initiatives include the aforementioned Forum for Development Cooperation with Indigenous Peoples, which has been held annually since 2000, and the Master’s Programme in Indigenous Studies, which began in 2003 and is managed by the Centre for Sami Studies. It features the collaboration of Sami and Norwegian anthropologists, historians, lawyers and professors of literature from UiT, as well as guest professors from other countries linked to the debate on indigenous issues.
The role of this university as a space for intercultural dialogue in Norway contrasts with that of other higher education and research institutions, such as the Nordic Sami Institute and Sami University College, which take a much more ’isolationist’ stance towards exchanges and joint work between Sami and Norwegian researchers. Although this stance can be understood according to the logic of Sami ’knowledge politics’, in which the university is seen at the same time as a field for producing knowledge and a political field for constructing the ethnic border, I would draw attention to the risks of ghettoisation arising from such a policy ; it has implications for the quality of the knowledge produced and for closing important doors for dialogue and forging alliances that the history of the international indigenous movement has shown to be a strategic and often decisive element in the conquests of rights by indigenous peoples.
Conclusion
In this paper we looked at the construction of the field of international cooperation for indigenous peoples in Norway, seeking to identify how discussions on national and ethnic issues in this Scandinavian country were linked to those that shaped the transnational indigenous movement from the second half of the 20th century onwards, as well as the strategic role that Norwegian and Sami anthropologists played in these processes. The inclusion of the definition of rights for indigenous peoples in the field of development assistance, accompanied by the debate on the category of indigenous itself, was one of the central marks of the contribution of these anthropologists. It followed on from the theoretical efforts of the anthropological discipline in Norway to think about ethnic groups, both from the domestic debates on the Sami people and the international debate on indigenous peoples, which, as we have seen, fed back into each other on several occasions.
To the extent that Norway has taken a place as a ’donor’ in the development world, Norwegian international cooperation has helped to build up relations of power and asymmetry between the ’North’ and the ’South’, the ’First World ’ and the ’Third’, and so on. However, in the case of cooperation with indigenous peoples, we are faced with the emergence of a different kind of perspective, one that has opened up fissures within these dichotomies, both on a symbolic and practical levels. This perspective makes it possible to affirm identities that escaped them, and which have affirmed anti-tutelary stances that have been gaining expression in the contemporary political struggles of subalternised groups, both in national spaces and in international arenas of dispute. In the affirmation of these identities, the transformation of former objects of study into subjects of knowledge has been a central feature, opening up more than welcome prospects for the renewal of the anthropological discipline.
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