Towards a theory of the rough ground: merging the policy and ethnographic frames of religion in the Kyrgyz Republic

Abstract

Discussions of Islam present two analytical problems, one of interpretation and another of theory. Regarding interpretation, different frames – policy or ethnographic – for viewing religion influence our bias/understanding of religion and give us different senses of what ‘knowing’ the religion of a particular community means. The related issue is one of theory and connects to the problem of theorising movement: how people navigate their religious lives is not linear but much more random, related to events, and at times reified by (though always engaging with) the assumptions of policy agendas and the ethnographic imagination. Exploring implications that the policy and ethnographic frames have for Muslims in the Kyrgyz Republic, I argue that in synthesising the impact of different frames of analysis, a ‘theory of the rough ground’, while anything but neat, better portrays life as it is experienced locally.

• Islam
• religion
• Kyrgyzstan
• Central Asia
• ethnography
• policy
• subjectivity
• bias
• social navigation

Notes

^1. I got to know Kadyrbek, Nurdin and Kuban while conducting field work in 2004–2005, but have seen them on subsequent visits, most recently in 2012. All names are pseudonyms.

^2. While some may be critical of the use of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ as analytical categories, it is a reflection of how Central Asians talk about each other, and even many outside academic concerns do find utility in these terms. See Rasanayagam (2011), especially chapter 3, and Mamdani (2002).

^3. For an excellent discussion of the subjunctive use in imagining community connections, though in a different sense, through ritual, see Seligman et al. (2008).

^4. The ethnographic context in which I am presenting this description of religion in Kyrgyzstan begins from work in the country before the 1999 incursions of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) around which I heard two very different discourses. The official discourse was one of fear and this was the overwhelming feeling at the time. A more quietly articulated discourse was that of hope: that the IMU would bring a better life than that which was being experienced. The dynamics of this were complicated because many who saw hope in the IMU were not religious. The bulk of material for this paper, however, comes from ethnographic research conducted between 2004 and 2005 and combines a survey of religious practice that was administered in May 2005. (For more detail on this survey see note 26 and the Tables later in the article.)

^5. My use of the term ‘frames’ is not intended to imply that I situate my critique within a schema of frame analysis per se (see for example Goffman 1974). I accept the basic idea that there are distinctions of frames in thought and frames in communication (Druckman 2001a,b), but use the term colloquially to imply a way of seeing, understanding and interacting with information and events. Thus I interchangeably discuss frame, view and perspective to argue that a particular vision implies a certain bias about which we would benefit from being self-reflective.

^6. I refer to the 2005 and 2010 overthrows with the word ‘putsch’ because in the case of the 2005 overthrow of the Akayev administration no systematic change took place to imply a revolution in any meaningful sense of the word; and while the 2010 overthrow was significantly more violent, it remains to be seen if real change takes hold (see Lichbach and Seligman 2000).

^7. Examples include: Kamalov (2010); Pannier (2011); ICG (2009); Levy (2009). See also: Thompson and Heathershaw (2005); Heathershaw and Megoran (2011); Montgomery and Heathershaw (2013); Reeves (2005).

^8. It is remarkable, of course, that commonness carries an air of being unremarkable and that the voice of the majority comes to be silenced in its majority.

^9. Throughout this piece, I am largely talking about policy and ethnographic frames from a western perspective (western governments, academics, advisory circles), but I believe the process describes the role of bias and agenda more generally. Local Islamophobia, for example, is generated not only by western policy discourse but also by Soviet policy that saw religion as a threat to the state (Froese 2008).

^10. In the first chapter of The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Napoléon Bonaparte Marx wrote: ‘Man makes his own history, but he does not make it out of the whole cloth; he does not make it out of conditions chosen by himself, but out of such as he finds close at hand’ (Marx 2004, 3).

^11. This includes orientalist critiques, such as Said (1994, 1997) and Varisco (2007).

^12. See, for example, Devji (2008). The social origins of various movements are often seen locally as just: Norton (2007), Mitchell (1993).

^13. There is a growing sense of the importance of public or engaged anthropology: see for example Besteman and Gusterson (2005); Borofsky (2011); Pelkmans (2013).

^14. For an excellent engagement with practical knowledge, and from where the idea of a theory of the rough ground originates, see Dunne (1997).

^15. Lakoff’s comparison of fire and dangerous things is illustrative of the influence of categories of danger: see Lakoff (1987).

^16. Such realities become clear when, for example, talking about Jehovah’s Witnesses refusing life-saving blood transfusions to avoid eternal damnation. The calculus of the refusing makes sense to the Jehovah’s Witness and not to someone else precisely because they do not categorise danger in the same way.

^17. While the war in Afghanistan diminished the presence of the IMU in Central Asia, most intelligence reporting suggests that it is still active, at least in Afghanistan and Pakistan: see Roggio (2011).

^18. This includes reporters like Alisher Saipov, editor-in-chief of the Uzbek-language paper in Kyrgyzstan, Siyesat, who was assassinated in Osh, Kyrgyzstan, in October 2007 for being outspoken on human rights abuses in Uzbekistan.

^19. In the mid- to late-1990s there was an emphasis on Kyrgyz as identity. By the mid-2000s, economic realities precipitated a recognition in some villages that had dropped Russian language education from their schools of a need to reinstate Russian as an actively taught language, especially in light of labour migration that makes Russian a practical necessity both for advancement and in order to defend themselves against abuses while working as emigrants. During the early 2000s competence in the Kyrgyz language became a political tool to regulate those who could run for public office.

^20. By 2000 these were being taught in schools in Naryn oblast’ (personal observation) (see also van der Heide 2008, 274). The seven principles are: (1) The undividable unity of the whole people, its head in one collar, its arm in one sleeve; (2) Accord, friendship and cooperation between nationalities; (3) Ethnic pride and clear conscience; (4) The attainment of well-being and prosperity through tireless work and advanced industry and science; (5) Humanity, nobility and forgiveness; (6) A harmonious relationship with nature; (7) Supporting the Kyrgyz government and guarding it like the apple of one’s eye. See also Akayev (2003).

^21. For more on these types of ritual practices see Aitpaeva, Egemberidieva and Toktogulova (2007); Aitpaeva and Egemberdieva (2009); Aitpaeva (2013).

^22. Similarly, the authorities in Uzbekistan have supported Sufism and the rejuvenation of various Sufi sites to foster a type of Islam seen as compatible with the state (see for example Louw 2007).

^23. In Kyrgyzstan, the State Agency for Religious Affairs works on behalf of the state to foster a version of Islam compatible with the state. It has the authority of the state and also works with the agenda of the state. There have been ongoing attempts to standardise and locally accredit Islamic education and worship, with the aim of creating an environment where a Kyrgyz sees the state as authoritative in shaping the development of public Islam. The state gets involved in promoting a particular vision of Islam not because of a sense of moral obligation to foster religious development, but because of the practical desire to have the population view the state as religious partner rather than adversary. This, it hopes, will curb public support for anti-government sentiment.

^24. Fortunately, there are some ethnographers working on Islam in Central Asia whose work is both thoughtful and informative (such as Borbieva 2012; Hilgers 2009; Kehl-Bodrogi 2008; Liu 2012; Louw 2007; McBrien 2006; Pelkmans 2007; Rasanayagam 2011; Schwab 2011; Zanca 2011) and others working within the ethnographic frame (such as Igmen 2012; Kamp 2006; Khalid 2007; Northrop 2004). Unfortunately, the nuanced message of their work seems not to be the dominant message heard in popular media.

^25. Stories are significant because the stories we tell impact on our framing of moral truths. For a discussion of this around three heroic figures – a Muslim saint, tribal chief and king – and international actors see Edwards (1996).

^26. Naryn oblast’ is mountainous and seen as the most traditionally Kyrgyz region of the country, whereas Osh oblast’ is more populated and infused with Uzbek culture. For the purposes of this paper, distinctions between the two regions are not the focus because the stereotyping of religion discussed here addresses the country as a whole. While Naryn is a place where people like Nurdin are assumed to live in greatest numbers and Osh where people like Kadyrbek are assumed to live in greatest numbers – and how the two regions get stereotyped – the Muslim as threat and Muslim as tradition live throughout the country. The 189-question survey was conducted in May 2005 in cities and villages where I had been living and researching for nine months. The locations were chosen on the basis of the ‘representativeness’ of the regions and familiarity from when I lived and worked in Kyrgyzstan from 1999–2001. The survey was completed by 829 individuals of varying ages, selected randomly, and recorded by trained assistants. For more on the description of the regions and a copy of the survey questions, see Montgomery (2007).

^27. This is higher than the national average because the survey did not include areas like Bishkek and Chui oblasti where one would find more ethnic Russians identifying with Orthodox Christianity. The percentages, however, do not vary significantly and in both cases reflect the sense that the country is overwhelmingly Muslim by self-identification, even if the corollary stereotyping is ‘Muslim, but less so by practice’. There has also been a state survey/census that had questions about religion. I of course give preference to my own data as I was better able to control the collection environment and had a sense that people were more willing to talk about religion with me, an ethnographer of religion, than with the state, which is not neutral in regard to religion and public life.

^28. For more on the role of sound in Islam see Hirschkind (2006).

^29. Varisco (2005) goes even further than Asad (1986), attacking the representation of Islam by Geertz (1968), Gellner (1981), Mernissi (1987) and Ahmed (2002).

^30. As Schielke is right to remind us, sometimes ‘there is too much Islam in the anthropology of Islam’ (2010, 1) and we need to pay attention to how people construct their everyday lives.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

David W. Montgomery

David W. Montgomery is visiting assistant professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Pittsburgh and director of Program Development for CEDAR – Communities Engaging with Difference and Religion. His research interests include the Balkans, Central Asia, religion, peacebuilding and well-being. Email: [email protected]