ExcerptIn the spring of 2021, the president of the European Council, Charles Michel, received a non-paper titled “West Balkans—A Way Forward.” The scandalous paper envisaged a redrawing of several national borders in the West Balkans. Among other changes, it proposed “the unification of Kosovo and Albania” and the “joining of larger parts of the Republika Srpska’s territory with Serbia.”1 However, this scandalous proposition, which the EU preferred to meet with silence, was not limited to a redrawing of the borders. What (...) was also scandalous was the ratio of the proposed territorial changes. The redrawing was proposed along the lines of ethnic majorities populating the regions in question (Albanians in Kosovo or Serbs in the Republika Srpska). While the state borders were drawn following a logic of ethnicity, the idea of a multiethnic nation seemed to exceed the imagination of the paper’s authors. For them, nations were to be ethnically homogeneous. (shrink)

1. IntroductionConstructing narratives that can combat people’s unease about their sense of belonging, by providing a sense of certainty and steadfastness, is a recurrent affect in the history of humanity.1 Perhaps change is, however, the only constant in this history. Over a hundred years ago, Max Weber bemoaned the transition to a rationalized modernity as “the disenchantment of the world,”2 which in turn had been inspired by similar concerns expressed by Friedrich Schiller in his poem “The Gods of Greece” (“Die (...) Götter Griechenlands”) at the end of the eighteenth century.3 Intensifying scholarly debates across the humanities and social sciences, asking questions about what people experience as fundamental changes to the fabric of their lived realities and how they cope with it, further indicate that Western societies are in transition in the present day. There is, however, disagreement over whether the human condition simply observes changes or whether it transforms into a qualitatively new stage, one that has been termed postmodernity, late modernity, and liquid modernity.4 Nevertheless, there is a consensus among scholars that contemporary realities unfold in contrast to social imaginaries that have defined Western societies and senses of belonging since the “global transformation” took place in the nineteenth century. This transformation still “underpins core aspects of contemporary international relations,” as Barry Buzan and George Lawson contend.5 Even today, social imaginaries are narrated—and criticized as such—in grand terms, often with a focus on the nation and a (however conceived) glorious future. (shrink)

1. IntroductionIn a recent editorial, the Lancet reported that one of the consequences of pandemics is the detrimental impact “on the mental health of affected populations,” and the current COVID-19 one is no different. Since its out-break at the end of 2019, “depressed mood, anxiety, impaired memory, and insomnia” are constant companions of people around the world. Many even experience “stress, burnout, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder.” Amongst its concerns, the Lancet notes the rising “misuse of substances” as a consequence (...) of these mental health problems.1 One of the reasons for this global mental health crisis is the way the pandemic affects peoples’ practices of community building and rituals of belonging. Having to wear masks, being required to keep at least 1.5 meters apart, not being able to meet (vulnerable) friends and family members, and even more drastic measures like weeklong lockdowns fundamentally disrupted everyday lives and reduced opportunities to socialize. What is normally taken for granted is being challenged. Around the world, these measures have been met by increasing demonstrations, often based on conspiracy theories and against commonsense precautions for preventing a potentially lethal disease. This conflict between reasonable precaution and emotional stress and pressure suggests disruptions of common narratives of belonging. (shrink)

ExcerptDavid Graeber and David Wengrow, The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021. Pp. 704. The Dawn of Everything is not just a massive book in terms of its total number of pages but also in the amount of archaeological evidence discussed concerning human “prehistory.” The authors range over current disputes within their disciplines as well as discussing in some detail political philosophies of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In spite of its (...) size and range, the book has been widely reviewed and has had a publication success rarely seen with academic works. Attention to it may be in part due to the publishing career of its co-author David Graeber, who tragically died in 2020 just before the book appeared in print. The reason I mention this point is that Graeber’s work had both an academic and non-academic audience, in such books as Bullshit Jobs: A Theory, Debt: The First 5,000 Years, and The Democracy Project: A History, a Crisis, a Movement. He also had a public profile during the Occupy Wall Street movement beginning in 2011, which highlighted his advocacy of anarchism. Graeber’s political philosophy plays a significant role in this book. (shrink)

ExcerptDavid Lloyd Dusenbury, The Innocence of Pontius Pilate: How the Roman Trial of Jesus Shaped History. London: Hurst Publishers, 2021. Pp. 272. The Innocence of Pontius Pilate by David L. Dusenbury of the Danube Institute is a profound reflection on the differentiation of secular and religious authority that should excite theologians, historians, believers, as well as historical sociologists. The point of departure is the question of the innocence or guilt of Pilate, the Roman magistrate who condemned Jesus to death, which (...) has been a contested issue from soon after Jesus died to modern New Testament criticism. Was Pilate guilty of the highest crime— deicide—or had he been, in some sense, innocent or even just? More interesting than a mere overview of how different epochs and authors received the Pilate story, Dusenbury’s book investigates the ramifications of the only sense in which Pilate was innocent: he was innocent of an understanding of a kingdom not of this earth. As Paul puts it succinctly in I Corinthians: “None of the rulers of this age (saeculum) understood this [other kingdom]—for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (55). (shrink)

1. IntroductionIn 2020, when the International Organization for Standardization (ISO) certified Chinese salted pickled vegetables from Sichuan called pao cai, hina’s media, including the state-run Global Times newspaper, reported the news as if China had won the international standard for kimchi making,1 although the ISO clearly stated in the certification document that the certification did not apply to kimchi.2 This reporting provoked Koreans, and it quickly became a cultural dispute between the two countries, at least in the media and social (...) media outlets. (shrink)

1. IntroductionIt is an increasingly accepted protocol to situate oneself discursively in order to approach a set of problems. This protocol, consolidated by Donna Haraway’s famous “situated knowledge,” is also evident in everyday Indigenous Australian practice.1 I begin, therefore, with my long association with the Goolarabooloo community in Broome, North-West Australia, and in particular with Paddy Roe, who started teaching me in the late 1970s. This text attempts to translate his sense of belonging to that territory, an attachment he had (...) to struggle to maintain, both in the face of ongoing destructive colonization and also in the face of other Aboriginal territorial claims. These collective attachments are therefore inflected by history—not just settler history, but Indigenous history that has changed in relation to colonization. These changes are wrought through overwhelmingly rapid material changes, shifting institutional alliances, contested concepts, and new practices. This ethnographic history is an attempt to provide an overview of some of these changes in the North-West corner of Australia over the last forty years. (shrink)

IntroductionThis paper employs Confucianism to illustrate a kind of differential or benevolent love, which people give in accordance with their relations and roles. In this sense, Confucian benevolent love is more of a duty to create mutual belonging than an emotion of solidarity.1 This benevolent love contrasts with the universal love of liberalism and the resultant solidarity that those who express this form of love feel for one another—these people often being the distant and unacquainted—whose presence would puzzle Confucian leaders (...) in terms of their roles and duties. Confucian roles are, in comparison, contextual, evolving, and reciprocal in order to cope with encountered strangeness. The liberal belief in everyone being ontologically equal and free de-emphasizes the relevance of experiencing the other’s strangeness. As a result of this, a Confucian’s and liberal’s love for one another may ironically cause, in both, a moral outrage qua deprived belonging.2. (shrink)

ExcerptAndrei S. Markovits, The Passport as Home: Comfort in Rootlessness. Foreword by Michael Ignatieff. Budapest: Central European University Press, 2021. Pp. 328. The Passport as Home: Comfort in Rootlessness is the autobiography of the well-known American political scientist Andrei S. Markovits and was published in 2021 by Central European University Press. After the 328 pages of text in American English, readers will recognize the author’s great fondness not only for analytical political science, sports, Italian opera, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, (...) and the Grateful Dead, but also for different languages—Romanian, Hungarian, German, and English—and will enjoy Markovits’s beautiful style and the many linguistic nuances and subtleties the book offers. (shrink)

1. IntroductionHaving been adapted into a movie by Martin Scorsese in 2016, Silence is Shūsaku Endō’s most famous novel outside of Japan. Initially published in 1966, the novel is about seventeenth-century Jesuit missionaries who secretly make a voyage to Japan in search of their spiritual Father who has reportedly renounced his faith after being tortured by local authorities. In his foreword to Endō’s Silence, Scorsese, a devout Catholic and long-standing admirer of Endō’s work, claims that the novel is “about the (...) particular and the general. And it is finally about the first overwhelming the second.”1 Not only did Endō acknowledge an inevitable conflict between experience and belief, but he also creatively adapted his faith for a different reality. Endō described Catholicism as “Western clothing my mother gave me,” which, throughout his life, he tried to tailor into a Japanese kimono that would fit him.2 Suffering from an unhappy marriage, his mother turned to Catholicism, and Endō followed her in this pursuit at the age of eleven. (shrink)