People out of Place: Allochthony and autochthony in Netherlands identity discourse – metaphors and categories in action more |
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People out of place: Allochthony and autochthony in Netherlands identity discourse – metaphors and categories in action Dvora Yanow Visiting Professor Department of Political Science Faculty of Social and Behavioral Sciences University of Amsterdam OZ Achterburgwal 237 1012DL Amsterdam, The Netherlands tel +31 20 525 2169 fax +31 20 525 2086 d.yanow@uva.nl [corresponding author] Marleen van der Haar Lecturer and Postdoctoral Researcher Department of Political Science Faculty of Management Studies Radboud University Nijmegen The Netherlands m.vanderhaar@fm.ru.nl Forthcoming in Journal of International Relations and Development Keywords: integration policy, ethnicity, race, allochthony, interpretive policy analysis Abstract As with much of Europe, the Netherlands has no explicit ‘race’ discourse; but the state, through its public policy and administrative practices, does categorize its population along ‘ethnic’ lines, using birthplace – one’s own or one’s (grand)parent’s – as the surrogate determining factor. The contemporary operative taxonomy has until recently been binary: autochtoon (of Dutch heritage) and allochtoon (of foreign birth). Used earlier at the provincial level in respect of internal migration, the taxonomy was expanded in 1999 to demarcate between ‘Western’ allochtoon and ‘non-Western’ allochtoon, the latter further subdivided into first and second generation. Informed by a ‘generative metaphor’ approach (Schon 1979) that links cognition to action, this article subjects the allochtoon-autochtoon binary to metaphor analysis and the Western—non-Western taxonomy to category analysis. The work done by ‘birthplace’ in the term pair suggests that they are, in their everyday usage, surrogates for a race discourse, carrying the same (ancient) assumptions about individual identity and the earth-air-sun-water of the spot on which one was born that underlie definitions-in-use of ‘race.’ Their meaning in contemporary policy discourse derives from the interaction of metaphoric and category structures, with implications for policy implementation.
2 Authors’ bios Dvora Yanow is a policy and organizational ethnographer and interpretive methodologist whose research and teaching are shaped by an overall interest in the communication of meaning in organizational and policy settings. Previously holder of the term Strategic Chair in Meaning and Method in the Faculty of Social Sciences, Vrije Universiteit, she is currently Visiting Professor at the University of Amsterdam’s Department of Political Science. In addition to state-created categories for race-ethnic identity, immigrant integration policies and citizenmaking practices, her present research analyzes research regulation policies and practices, organizational and science/technology museums, and spatial and practice studies. Her Constructing ‘Race’ and ‘Ethnicity’ in America: CategoryMaking in Public Policy and Administration (M E Sharpe, 2003) won the 2007 Herbert Simon book award at APSA and the 2004 ASPA Best Book award. She is the co-editor of the new Routledge Series in Interpretive Methods.
Marleen van der Haar is a cultural anthropologist by training. Her research focuses on framing and categorization in policy making and professional practices. She currently works as a Lecturer and Postdoctoral Researcher in the Department of Political Science at Radboud University Nijmegen, where she is involved in a study monitoring welfare organizations that aim to enhance the emancipation and societal participation of poorly educated and socially isolated men. Prior to that, she was Postdoctoral Researcher at the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam, working together with Dvora Yanow on category-making in Netherlands integration policies. Her dissertation studied the professional repertoires of Dutch social workers, focusing on their dealings with cultural diversity in everyday work practices.
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Mrs. Van Gent: My first question is, are you an allochtoon? Mrs. Felter: I am no allochtoon. I am a Netherlands citizen. I am a black [zwarte] Netherlander. Mrs. van Gent: …You suggest that the word ‘allochtoon’ can have a negative effect…. Mrs. Felter: ‘Allochtoon’ is, in my view, a racist term that people use to render things impossible. …‘[A]llochtoon’ is entirely negative. ‘Allochtoon’ wants to say that you are not from here. I am from here, I live here, I participate in and contribute to the society. I see no reason I should not be considered as being from here…. – Testimony, House of Representatives hearing (Tweede Kamer 2003-2004: 241; transl. DY, Itals. added; orig. in Appendix) I have been smurfing here for some 50 years and they still see me as an allochsmurf. Semantically smurfed! – Political cartoon, Rubenl.nl [Ruben L. Oppenheimer] NRC Handelsblad (1 March 2008: 14; authors’ transl., orig. in Appendix) Unlike the US, where public discourse concerning groups of people other than those historically dominant socio-politically has long invoked the language of ‘race’ and ‘ethnicity,’ The Netherlands, like much, if not all of Europe, has no explicit ‘race’ discourse. The term is so mired in Nazi discursive practices and their enactment that its public use has in effect been taboo since the end of World War II. Instead, present Netherlands discourse, as in other Western European states and the EU, revolves around ‘integration’. But the discussion now spins less around integrating ‘ethnic minorities’ (etnische minderheden), a term which came into favour in the latter part of the 20th century, than around
‘allochtonen’ (singular, allochtoon; allochthon in English ) – those of nonNetherlands birth or ancestry. This term and its mate, autochtoon (autochthon in English) – meaning those of Netherlands birth and ancestry – are found in Parliamentary debates (as the first epigraph shows), in city administrative practices, in schools, universities, and workplaces, and in ‘the street’ in a broader arena of public discourse (an example of which is the second epigraph, for reasons that will become clear). Debates revolving around the identity of these groups, by whatever name, their place in society and in the polity, and possible discriminatory practices against them constitute intractable policy issues (Rein and Schon 1977; Schön and Rein 1994). Over decades, different programmatic solutions have been advanced, tried out, and retracted, each policy often promoting a new set of terms for articulating the character of the issue (van der Haar et al. 2009). Still, the ‘problem’ remains. Rein and Schön’s treatment of such intractable issues calls for policy analytic attention seeking to remedy these sorts of problems to focus less on suboptimal program design or failures of policy implementation than on the policy issue’s framing – the definition of the problem itself. Such an approach highlights the language used in policy discourse, which sometimes involves metaphors (Schon 1979, Yanow 2008), sometimes stories (Schön and Rein 1994, Stone 1988), and/or sometimes categories (Yanow 2000, 2003) as framing devices. But although on the face of it, allochtoon and autochtoon may sound quite neutral and perhaps even scientific, they are not neutral in their
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As this article focuses on the Netherlands case and the Dutch and English pronunciations are roughly the same, we use the Dutch allochtoon-autochtoon spelling for the singular, unless the referent context changes. We use the English plural forms allochthons-autochthons, however, as that more clearly signals the plural to a non-Dutch reader.
5 effects. Allochtoon, in particular, carries some of the same emotionally punishing character as US hyphenated identities (Irish-American, ItalianAmerican, etc.) used to, as Mrs. Felter’s House of Representatives testimony and the lines spoken by the cartoon ‘allochsmurf’ (in the epigraphs) attest.2 This article seeks to give an account of the pejorative character of these seemingly neutral policy and administrative terms, whose meaning centres on place: specifically, the country or land of origin of the persons they designate. In their policy and administrative usages, this place-based origin refers not only to the individual but also to the individual’s ancestors, a usage potentially explained through an examination of their metaphoric meanings. Furthermore, recent redefinition has created a taxonomy by subdividing one of the terms. The questions raised by analysis of that category structure, together with those from the metaphor analysis, further problematize the terms’ connotative meaning. In addition, the sort of work that ‘place’ as a concept performs in the terms’ metaphoric character and also that specific places in the taxonomy enable calls for further attention. That, in its historical and contemporary policy uses elsewhere, ‘race’ has place-based conceptual roots raises the possibility that similar, if not identical, usage might also be at play here. This comparative policy analysis suggests that the Netherlands allochtoon-autochtoon integration discourse is, in all but name, a racial discourse – one perhaps all the more
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To be a hyphenated-American was considered negative well into the 1980s. The term itself came into usage at the beginning of the 20th century, with both then-Colonel Theodore Roosevelt and President Woodrow Wilson expounding on how the people it designated were dangerous and less than ‘full’ or ‘real’ Americans (‘There is no place here for the hyphenated American and the sooner he returns to the country of his allegiance the better’ [Roosevelt bars the hyphenated 1915]; ‘…any man who carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is ready to plunge into the vitals of this Republic whenever he gets ready’ [Wilson 1919]). For a discussion of its more recent implications, see Yanow (2003: 186-96).
6 powerful for being carried out in disguise, as it were. More significantly, the analysis points to a conundrum between the explicit intention of the broader Netherlands public policy at the time of this writing3 – to integrate the ‘nonDutch’ allochtoon into autochthonous Dutch society – and the operational meaning carried metaphorically in implementation practices through the allochtoon-autochtoon pair, which suggests that integration is not and never will be possible. The article begins by situating the approach taken to metaphor and category analyses, used here in the context of interpretive policy analysis (Yanow 2000; see also Fischer 2003, Hajer and Wagenaar 2003). The theoretical approach is also informed by social constructionist ideas in the field of race and ethnic studies (e.g., Haney López 1997; Yanow 1996b, 2003). After a brief historical contextualization of the policy uses of allochtoon and autochtoon, the article proceeds to analyze them metaphorically, looking at their etymologies linguistically and in use, followed by an analysis from the perspective of their taxonomic structure. As that analysis raises further questions, we then consider the ways in which ‘race’ itself may play a role in the terms’ meaning. Comparative illustrations are drawn with race-ethnic category structures in use elsewhere, in particular the US and the UK, as a way of denaturalizing what might otherwise appear (especially to Netherlands natives and others who have grown up with them) to be normal usages. The empirical data are drawn from policy-relevant documents – specifically, the language in use in legislative and
As final revisions of this article were being prepared (early October 2010), a new coalition government has just been formed between the Christian Democrats (CDA) and the conservative liberals (VVD), with the support of an anti-immigration, anti-immigrant, and anti-Islam party (PVV, ‘Party for Freedom’, led by Geert Wilders). The coalition agreement, ‘Freedom and Responsibility’, includes a stringent immigration policy.
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7 other hearings and debates, reports, and implementation practices, as well as newspaper coverage of these, including political cartoons. The argument is based on a central notion in interpretive policy analysis, that word choice is significant to both cognition and action: the seeds for thought are embedded within the source origins of metaphoric terms, as conceptual metaphor theory suggests, and, in metaphoric process, are carried over in and through them to the realm of policy discourse and action, as well as everyday practices. And policy discourses, in the end, can affect people’s lives, as the epigraphs’ Mrs. Felter and cartoonist Oppenheimer convey.
Analyzing policy language: Metaphors and categories A central distinction has marked approaches to the study of metaphor, in general: is it a decoration floating on top of non-metaphoric language – in which case it can be removed, thereby rendering language more transparent in its correspondence to the realities it describes4 – or is it an integral part of language, informing how we know and learn about the world and, potentially, how we act in it? The latter represents a cognitive linguistics/conceptual metaphor perspective, in which metaphors are seen as shaping perception and understanding and, crucially, actions taken on the basis of those perceptions and understandings (Lakoff and Johnson 1980, Schon 1979): Metaphor is not a harmless exercise in naming. It is one of the principal means by which we understand our experience and reason
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This formulation captures the parallels between metaphor debates and broader ontological-epistemological ones concerning whether or not language mirrors the world whose characteristics it articulates, objectively (i.e., as observed and known from a position outside that world), through the reception of sense data. From that perspective, metaphoric language would always be seen as ‘defective, deviant, and parasitic on literal language (and literal language as defective with respect to mathematical logic)’ (Müller 2008: 43).
8 on the basis of that understanding. To the extent that we act on our reasoning, metaphor plays a role in the creation of reality. (Lakoff and Johnson 1987: 79) From this perspective, ‘metaphor’ does not denote only novel uses of language, a view characteristic of metaphor studies in the 1970s and earlier (Lakoff 1993: 237), neither is it only a property of poetry. Rather, much like Molière’s Monsieur Jourdain (in Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme) discovered with respect to prose, we are all speaking in metaphors in our everyday language, even when we are not cognizant of doing so, and they are commonplaces in policy, organizational, and other discourses as well. In such an approach, especially when treated within contexts of action, such as public policy or organizational settings, metaphors may be seen, analytically, as both ‘models of’ prior thought or ways of seeing and ‘models for’ subsequent action (Yanow 1992, 2008). Much like their modern Greek usage denoting vans moving furniture from one place to another, metaphoric ‘vehicles’ carry meaning from their linguistic sources to some ‘target,’5 in so doing enabling a ‘seeing-as’ of those targets in terms of source entailments of the metaphor. Analysis needs to address not only what sight and action metaphors enable, but also what is, in that process, not-seen: that which is silenced in the metaphor-enabled discourse. Policy- or organization-focused metaphor analysis proceeds by identifying the metaphoric source(s), its target, its entailments in its
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This is the term commonly used in metaphor analysis. Unfortunately, it is still also used in academic policy analysis in reference to those for whom policies are being designed, without attention to its metaphoric meaning, in ways that deny them agency. Such usage appears to have originated with Robert McNamara as he moved from the presidency of Ford Motor Company, where in an earlier capacity he had spearheaded the development of management control systems (including cost-benefit analysis), to Secretary of the US Department of Defense and thereafter to the presidency of the World Bank. For a critique of this usage of policy ‘targets’, see DeHaven Smith (1988), Yanow (1996).
9 source domain, and the implications of those entailments for its target (Yanow 2000). What happens to a metaphor, however, when its explicit metaphoric origins have become blurred or lost to contemporary users? Outside of linguistics, especially in high school literature classes, this figure is often termed a ‘dead metaphor,’ typically meaning one whose use has rendered the phrase so commonplace that it has been ‘normalized’ and is no longer readily recognizable as a metaphor – that is, as having source meanings elsewhere. Conceptual metaphor theory, however, recognizes a distinction between those figures whose origins are truly lost to present-day understanding and those whose sourcedomain structure and terminology are still alive and active such that the metaphor’s conceptual mapping (from source image to application image) and linguistic mapping (from source-domain terminology to target-domain terminology) can still be recovered (Müller 2008). Lakoff (1987) argues that such metaphors are better designated ‘conventional’ than ‘dead’ (see also Lakoff and Johnson 1980); and, as Müller (2008) observes, we are then in the analytic realm of focusing on the ‘activation of metaphoricity,’ rather than focusing solely on the reception of meaning, as in traditional metaphor analysis.6 The question this discussion poses is not whether in engaging in metaphor-infused speech, individuals are consciously aware that they are speaking in conventional, or ‘sleeping’ (Müller 2008), metaphors. Rather, the
Lakoff (1987; see also Lakoff and Johnson 1980) argues that ‘dead metaphor’ is a misnomer reflecting earlier, now discredited theories of language. He makes the further point that metaphor theory needs to be able to distinguish between commonplaces and terms whose metaphoric origins are no longer available. Müller (2008) further extends the argument, taking issue with Lakoff’s bipartite distinction from the perspective of actively making, and not just ‘receiving’, metaphoric meaning. Although not engaging this debate in metaphor theory directly, this article follows in this vein.
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10 question is whether the meaning-making thoughts and acts of a community of speakers can be said to be informed by source meanings when the metaphor is highly conventional or dormant. If source meanings are still recoverable, can analysis claim that they are still vital and operative? The Netherlands integration discourse analyzed here provides an interesting case for exploring this. Whereas metaphor analysis tracks the source meanings of terms that are ‘borrowed’ from one context to another, category analysis examines sets of terms within a taxonomy, analyzing the logic embedded in the structure of their oppositions and similarities with respect to a usually implicit but unspoken point of view from which they are drawn. Analysis asks, ‘the same and different with respect to what?’ (Yanow 2000, 2003; see also Bowker and Star 1999, Lakoff 1990). Recognizing that category schemas do not reflect divisions that occur in the world (social or physical) naturally, but rather are created by people at particular moments in time and inscribed by them onto that world in order to make sense of or bring order to it, category analysis asks which aspects of the things being so ordered are highlighted by the category schema and which, obscured. Moreover, categories, as Suchman (1994, 1995) noted in another context, have politics: ‘systems of categorization are ordering devices…of social control’ (Suchman 1994: 182, 188) whose politics ‘turns on the question of who gets to define relevant categories, and who or what gets categorized…and what systems of categorization will prevail’ (Suchman 1995: 85-86). This is particularly the case when the category schema is treated as if it were neutral and universal, masking – under everyday circumstances, in which there is typically no reflective inquiry – the fact that it entails ‘the normative imposition of categories by some actors on others’ (Suchman 1995: 90), a characteristic of
11 administrative practices. Here is another way in which policy and other discourses may be silenced. Categorizing-in-use within state demographic policies – whether for census purposes or specific programs (e.g., resource distribution for affirmative action, or health policy; e.g., Keeler 2007) – appears to rest on a ‘slotting’ rather than a prototype approach (see discussion in Bowker and Star 1999, Yanow 2003: 12-13). In the latter, the category structure is akin to the ‘normal curve’ of statistical analysis, with category members ranging from the figure of the prototypical member and those bearing very close resemblance to it (i.e., having a central location under the curve) to ‘outliers’ at the ends of its tails who might be said to bear some family resemblance, despite strong variances from the prototype.7 In the former, the category schema is highly structured around a set of membership criteria in which every element that needs categorizing has a clear place, and each is expected to fit into one and only one category. Imagine, for example, a set of cubbyholes in a mailroom: envelopes for each recipient have only one correct resting place; there is no ‘fuzziness’ here, no passing or slippage from one box into the next. Within this classical approach to categories, an item that might equally well be slotted into one cubbyhole as another is perceived and treated as a ‘category error’ or ‘category mistake,’ and the proliferation of these within a taxonomy would then be understood as indicating that the category set is no longer a good fit for the lived experience
Alan Cienki (personal communication, 12 August 2009) calls our attention to the fact that this Wittgensteinian ‘family resemblance’ form of prototype category may work in slightly different ways in that it may have no real ‘best exemplar’ (see Rosch and Mervis 1975). This distinction may hold more for language analysis, however, than policy analysis.
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onto which it is being inscribed.
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As policy-related categories acquire normative aspects and develop from more descriptive denoters of category membership into more value-laden connoters of often unspoken, yet tacitly known meaning, their slotting characteristics appear to transmogrify into a prototype model, the common prototype (a Platonian ‘ideal’) itself increasingly a compilation and expression of stereotypical features. One is a member of the category to the extent that one resembles ever more closely the attributes of the idealized norm at the category’s centre. Outliers – those ever more remote from that ideal, at the tail ends of the bell curve – can more easily traverse the category’s boundaries into a neighbouring one. This is the condition that creates ‘fuzzy set-edness’ (Ragin 2000) and enables ‘passing’ (the term used in reference to US ‘Blacks’ who ‘become’ ‘White’9), something that poses logical (and logistical) problems for a slotting-type taxonomy. The presence of active passing indicates a taxonomy
In attempting to respond to the perception that its existing category schema did not fit the lived realities of the population it sought to enumerate – as manifested in much discussion and debate during the 1990s concerning the 1990 Census and the geometric growth of people who identified themselves there as ‘Other,’ as well as growing attention to ‘mixed race’ in general public discourse – the US Census Bureau changed its policy and invited respondents to the 2000 Census to mark off more than one answer, as applicable, to the ‘race’ question. This was a major departure from the ‘slotting’ approach it had used until then. The new practice posed a challenge for statisticians analyzing census results as to how to tabulate the multiplicities of combinations and permutations of the six available categories. What makes this work, paradoxically and ironically enough, is the existence in the US of a slotting type of race-ethnic category practice, in which one is either-or, enforced by the ‘one drop rule’ (see F. J. Davis 1991) and other discriminatory practices of long standing, in everyday social life if not in law (see Haney López 1995). ‘Racial’ mixture, through ‘inter’-marriages, was legally outlawed in many states, the last prohibition being repealed only in 1967; but slave ownership yielded many mixed offspring, and it was these and later generations who increasingly diverged from the prototypical ‘racial’ norm and passed over the fuzzy boundary into a different slot – the White one. ‘Mixed’ race was only acknowledged in federal policy in 1997, operationalized for the first time in the 2000 Census and other administrative programs implementing the new policy, as mentioned in the previous note (see Yanow 2003).
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13 that is not value-neutral: social or perceptual conditions have been created that make one ‘box’ more desirable than another. The transformation from a slotting type of schema to a prototype one may be linked to category elements’ acquiring or developing pejorative connotations. One other aspect of language practices is relevant for the present study, a distinction known in linguistics as marked versus unmarked terms. In general, an unmarked term is the ‘simple’ or ‘unadorned’ term denoting the ‘normal’ or customary state of affairs – ‘doctor’ or ‘professor’ would be two examples. The marked term adds a descriptor – ‘Surinamese doctor,’ ‘woman professor’ – that sets the person so indicated apart as somehow ‘different’ from the norm, not usual, not expected, and hence, in many societies, non-normal and even lesser than the person designated by the unmarked term. Marking may be a way of modifying prototype category structures: the noun affirms that the individual so designated belongs within the category structure, while the adjectival descriptor moves the individual out from under the heart of the normal curve toward one of its tails. Whereas taxonomies built on the slotting logic of ‘A’ and ‘not-A’ typically do not name these generic and specific characteristics explicitly – for instance, in the professional role set of architect, doctor, lawyer, teacher, and so forth – unmarked/marked pairs name their differences more explicitly and publicly (e.g., architect/woman architect, lawyer/legal-aid lawyer, teacher/kindergarten teacher; or Olympics/Special Olympics). Analysis is often needed to identify the logic that underlies the marking and to explain either why the term requires marking or why that specific marker is called for.
14 Allochtoon and autochtoon in policy discourses: Meanings-in-use It is common practice today in The Netherlands to use ‘allochtoon’ in reference to those who are themselves ‘foreign born’ or who descend from a foreign-born person. A look at Netherlands population-related policies, at both regional-provincial and state levels, over time suggests a different terminological history: what ‘foreign’ denotes has shifted over the years. The academic literature that engages the use of allochtoon in integration and related policies (e.g., Geschiere 2009; Groenendijk 2007; Rath 1991; Scholten 2007; van Amersfoort 1983: 138) commonly notes that allochtoon entered into policy discourse in 1971 through the work of sociologist Hilda Verwey-Jonker. In a report to the then-named Ministry of Culture, Recreation, and Social Work (Ministerie van Cultuur, Recreatie and Maatschappelijk Werk, CRM; now the Ministry of Public Health, Welfare, and Sports – Ministerie van Volksgezondheid, Welzijn en Sport, VWS), Verwey-Jonker (1971) used the term in reference to several different types of mobile groups crossing borders of different sorts: repatriates,10 Ambonese,11 Surinamese,12 Antilleans,13 foreign
During the 1950s and 1960s, after Indonesia had gained independence from The Netherlands in 1949, some 100,000 ‘white’ or ‘European’ Dutch (who had spent years living in the Dutch East Indies; called totoks, a Malay term) and 200,000 ‘Indonesian Dutch’ or ‘Eurasian Dutch’ (Indische Nederlanders, of mixed parentage having one ‘white’ Dutch parent) moved to The Netherlands (Jones 2007: 338; in The Netherlands, Indische Nederlander is also used to refer to ‘white’ Dutch – i.e., totoks). Together, they were labeled ‘repatriates’ (repatrianten) or ‘repatriated’ (gerepatrieerden) in Dutch policy and research because they were considered to be ‘ethnically’ Dutch and therefore ‘belonging’ or ‘at home’ in The Netherlands. The nomenclature is odd, however, as many of them had never lived in the country to which they were being ‘re’-patriated, as Geschiere (2009: 149) also notes.
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Also spelled Amboinese, the Ambonezen consisted of a group of 12,500 soldiers of the Royal Dutch Indies Army (Koninklijk Nederlands Indisch Leger, KNIL) and their families, who had been living on the Southern Moluccan island of Ambon. The Moluccas, a group of islands in East Indonesia between Sulawesi (Celebes) and New Guinea, were taken by the Dutch in the 17th century from Portugal. Verwey-Jonker’s report uses Ambonezen as a synonym for the group more commonly known now as Moluccans. After Indonesian
labourers (guest workers),
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‘Third World’ countries). Interestingly, in preparing the report, she had seemingly been instructed not to use the word ‘migrant,’ as that would establish or confirm that The Netherlands was a country of (im)migrants, something that ran counter to national self-perception and policy at the time (Rath 1991: 175; see also Geschiere 2009:148). It is a matter of some conjecture as to how ‘allochtoon’ came to her attention and entered the report.16 One of the members of her research team at that time, Hans van Amersfoort, a
independence in 1949, these KNIL soldiers and their families, who during the colonial regime had been categorized as ‘indigenous non-Dutch Netherlands subjects’ (Inheemse Nederlandse onderdaan niet-Nederlander), were given Indonesian nationality (Jones 2007: 83, 100). Their military service, loyalty to The Netherlands, and rejection of the newly formed Indonesian state, however, put them in a difficult position, and in 1951 they were brought to The Netherlands. As Jones indicates, this was intended to be a temporary solution; but over 50 years later, they are still in The Netherlands.
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Surinam, a republic on the northeast coast of South America, was a Dutch territory. Many Surinamese migrated to The Netherlands before the island gained independence in 1975; many also came shortly after independence under special passport regulations implemented at that time. The ‘Dutch Antilles’ refers to a set of islands in the Caribbean to the north and northeast of Venezuela, consisting of Aruba (sometimes listed separately), Bonaire, Curaçao, Saba, Sint Eustatius, and Sint Maarten. On 10 October 2010 their status changed: Curaçao and Sint Maarten became autonomous states within the Dutch Kingdom, as Aruba has been since 1986, and Bonaire, Sint Eustatius and Saba became ‘special municipalities’ within it.
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The ‘importation’ of temporary foreign labourers, similar to Germany’s gastarbeiter (guest worker) program, began in 1960 (Tweede Kamer 1969-1970: 4), although Geschiere (2009: 149), citing John Schuster, notes that ‘an official Dutch delegation’ had already gone to Italy to recruit temporary workers in 1955. Chinese people have been present in The Netherlands, primarily in Rotterdam and Amsterdam, working in shipping, mostly as stokers, since at least the early 20th century. The economic crisis of the 1930s, together with changes in the shipping industry, left many of them unemployed, illegally stranded, and increasingly impoverished. Many were forcibly repatriated (Sanders 2008). She is deceased, and no explanation has yet come to light among her papers, which are held in the Verwey-Jonker Institute. In fact, although allochtoon may have entered some national-level policy documents in 1971, its policy use did not become widespread for another 20 years; instead, ‘ethnic minorities’ (etnische minderheden) was the main policy term well into the 1990s.
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16 geographer, is reported to have claimed responsibility for its introduction (Geschiere 2009: 149). However, in a July 2008 interview, he disavowed personal responsibility for the term’s use, explaining that its choice was a research team decision. Allochtoon, he said, had been in use at that time in physical geography to describe sedimentary rocks (afzettingsgesteenten), and social geographers were using it to describe urban-rural commuting behaviour.17 He noted that its introduction in Verwey-Jonker’s 1971 report was a product of the joint efforts of research team members, who were seeking a useful term to capture the different types of non-natives then present in The Netherlands (personal interview by the second author, 1 July 2008). Allochtoon and autochtoon were, however, already in use well over a decade earlier in other reports, suggesting that the terms were already present in administrative usages at least at certain governmental levels. A 1959 province-level report in Brabant (Congres Comité Brabantia Nostra 1959) in The Netherlands’ southern half used allochtoon in reference primarily to Dutch workers migrating from the northern provinces. They were coming especially from North and South Holland and Utrecht and were non-Roman Catholic, and especially Protestant, and most of them also worked in the governmental or educational sectors or in the ‘free professions’, all of these characteristics that were likely to have created consternation in the working class, Catholic south.18
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We do not know precisely where it was being used by these social geographers or in what context. From our reading of other reports produced then, we suspect that they were working for the Ministry of Transportation researching patterns of work-home commuting. This statement does not do justice to the degree of animosity felt by Catholics (in the southern part of the state) toward Protestants (in the north), and vice versa; nor do we have space here to develop an explanation of how Dutch governance at that time regulated exchanges across its four ‘pillars’ – Catholic, Protestant, liberal, and socialist (on Netherlands ‘pillarization’ and consensus-based decision-making, see Lijphart 1968;
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17 A few migrants also came from other countries: Germany, Belgium, and the West and East Indies (the former and then-present colonies of Indonesia, Suriname, and the Dutch Antilles/Aruba). Moreover, Verwey-Jonker had herself been using one or both terms since the early 1950s in writing about the social impacts of such migration patterns. In a 1953 book chapter she discussed Protestantism, then arriving in the North Brabant province’s eastern cities with migrants from the north, as an ‘import phenomenon’, noting the religious differences between the ‘autochthonous population’ (Brabant Catholics) and the Protestant ‘immigrants’ [immigranten] (Verwey-Jonker 1953: 259). Nearly a decade later, she used both allochtoon and autochtoon in analyzing the social position of these Protestant migrants in the Catholic southern provinces (Verwey-Jonker 1962; see also Verwey-Jonker 1960). Despite such earlier uses, allochtoon and its companion autochtoon did not become concepts in good currency (Schon 1973) in state-level policy discourse until the period around their standardization in 1999 by Statistics Netherlands (Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek, CBS; Keij 2000). The CBS creates national data by amalgamating data from the Municipal Base Administration (Gemeentelijke Basisadministratie, GBA), the compilation of data from local population registries whose birth, death, and residence records have been maintained at the municipal level since Napoleonic times (van der Haar and Yanow 2009). Following a 1989 report to the government by the Wetenschappelijke Raad voor het Regeringsbeleid (WRR, Scientific Council for Government Policy; Wetenschappelijke Raad voor het Regeringsbeleid 1989),
see also Andeweg and Irwin 1993, and Geschiere’s discussion, 2009: ch. 5). This longstanding animosity may have laid the groundwork for the pejorative character of the use of allochtoon today, as we note below.
18 the CBS shifted their category term for non-native Dutch from ‘minorities’ or ‘ethnic minorities’ (etnische minderheden), the language preferred by the Ministry for Internal Affairs, to allochtoon, dividing the population between that term and autochtoon.19 At that time, the CBS used various definitions of allochtoon. One designated a person as allochtoon when s/he and one parent were foreign born (e.g., someone resident in The Netherlands who had been born in Indonesia to an Indonesian woman and a Dutch serviceman) or when both parents were foreign-born (i.e., the Netherlands-born offspring of a guest worker and his spouse who arrived after family reunification policies [gezinshereniging] went into effect 20). The other definition designated a person as allochtoon when s/he or at least one parent was foreign-born (Keij 2000). In 1999, the CBS adopted a single definition of allochtoon that unified previous ones by dividing the category into ‘Western allochtoon’ and ‘nonWestern allochtoon’ (niet-westerse) and then dividing the latter between first and second generation (Keij 2000): • first generation allochthonous persons are those (legally) resident in The Netherlands who were themselves born in a foreign country and who have at least one foreign-born parent (i.e., ruling out children born to two
We cannot say for certain when the CBS began using these terms. In an 8 December 2008 interview, CBS statisticians also could not put a date on it, but they related their usage to the 1989 WRR report (see also Geschiere 2009: 150). Data from the GBA, which now consists of reports amalgamated from 483 local registries, have become even more important for CBS statistics since the termination of a decennial census in 1971. It is interesting to note that part of the initial discussions about category terms and their definitions concerned the possibility of self-definition; but, as the CBS officials noted, CBS statistical analysis was tied to particular population group (bevolkinsgroep) categories, ruling out the possibility of categories generated through self-identification. Family reunification policy was introduced in 1960 and encompassed the families of labour migrants from EEC countries, such as Italy and Spain. It was extended in 1961 to those from non-EEC countries, including Morocco and Turkey (Bonjour 2008).
20
19
19 Netherlands-born parents who happened to be residing outside the country at the time of birth); • second generation allochthons are Netherlands-born persons with at least one foreign-born parent. In determining the designation, the CBS first looks to the mother’s country of origin. If the mother is Netherlands-born, the CBS then considers the father’s birthplace. It also initiated discussions of extending non-Western allochtoon identity into the third generation (Alders and Keij 2001), something discussed also in the 1989 WRR report, although to date this has not become CBS policy.21 These definitional changes are diagrammed in Figure 1. [Insert Figure 1 here] This taxonomy demarcates and categorizes mobile populations according to place of origin – one’s own birthplace or that of one’s parents or grandparents. That in and of itself is not distinctive: it is similar to policies in effect in many states (cf. Stevens 1999). What is distinctive here is the use of terms – allochtoon, autochtoon – that in and of themselves do not name places of birth, as is the practice in other states, nor do they name the skin colour of ‘natives’ and non-natives, which might be a replacement for or a supplement to
21
A third generation non-Western allochtoon would be a person born in the Netherlands to parents both of whom were also Netherlands-born but who themselves had at least one parent born in a non-Western country (Alders and Keij 2001: 16). Using 20 years as the span of a single generation, this would require records dating back, today, to 1951-71. Because the CBS does not have complete data prior to 1994 from the 483 municipal-level population registries (GBA), when standardization of those registrations practices was started, it can only estimate the size of the non-Western third generation. This it does based on the age of the non-Western second generation (Alders and Keij 2001). That is, guest workers who would be first generation allochthons, who arrived in the 1960s-1970s, for instance, would not be in the GBA system (because they were born outside of The Netherlands); their Netherlands-born children (the second generation) might be in the system, depending on where and when they were born; and CBS statisticians can estimate the size of the third generation – the guest workers’ grandchildren – through population projections based on age and birth rates.
20 place identifications. For example, the UK uses a set of terms whose primary divisions are based first on colour (White, Black) and continent (Asian), as seen in the left-hand column of Table 1. Within each of these, specific category names reference different aspects: White is crossed with ‘nationality’ (Britain, Ireland, Scotland); Black is crossed with region or continent (Caribbean, Africa); and Asian is crossed with nation-state (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, China, the latter being the only state not sharing ‘Asian’ or ‘Asian British’ identity in its label; see Table 1). Interestingly enough, according to the terms used in the form from which this Table was derived, there are no Irish- or Scots-Africans or –Asians; Irish and Scots are only White. [Insert Table 1 here] Similar category-making processes are reflected in the federally-mandated terms in use in the US since 1990, in this case with place-based origins that are continental: African-American, Asian-American, European-American, Latino/a American, and Native American (see discussion in Yanow 2003). But do ‘allochtoon’ and ‘autochtoon’ designate ‘place’ other than through formal CBS definitions; and if so, what kind of place is it? To identify the defining principles and perspective operating within the taxonomy’s category structure, we turn initially to their analysis as metaphors. Remembering that metaphor analysis begins by identifying terms’ source meanings, we begin with their etymologies, linking those to the meanings of related terms.
Allochtoon-autochtoon: Metaphor and category analyses Allochtoon/allochthon derives from the Greek allos, meaning other, and chthōn, meaning country (van Dale 1995), land, earth (Random House
21 Unabridged Dictionary 2006). The noun is a back-formation dating to around 1910-1915 from the adjective allochthonous, used in geology to mean rocks, mineral deposits, or other elements that were ‘not formed in the region where found’ (Random House Unabridged Dictionary 2006). Autochtoon/autochthon has earlier origins, dating to 1640-1650. Derived from auto, meaning same, and chthōn (land, country), it is used in geology in reference to both geological formations and persons, meaning ‘indigenous’ or ‘aboriginal’ (Random House Unabridged Dictionary 2006).22 Its original opposite was heterochthonous, meaning ‘not indigenous; foreign’ (Random House Unabridged Dictionary 2006); and indigenous is defined as ‘originating and living or occurring naturally in an area or environment’ (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 4th ed., 2006, emphasis added, which points to synonyms at ‘native’; Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary, 1996, notes its derivation from Old Latin indu and the root of the Latin gignere, to beget or bear, a root shared with gender and generate). These several meanings are summarized in Table 2. [Insert Table 2 here] Metaphor analysis would next explore the words’ entailments: what characteristics from their source meanings in geology are embedded in the terms? Allochthonous rocks, for instance, are recognizable as having been created out of specific geological components constituted out of the soil, water, air, and sun characteristic of the setting in which they originated. The idea that they carry these original identifying marks with them, wherever and whenever
Not surprisingly for an older word, it also has uses in other fields: in psychology autochthonous thoughts are those coming from outside one’s train of thought (although that seems paradoxical); in pathology, it refers to the origin and location of a disease, lesion, etc. Definitions were accessed at http://dictionary.reference.com/ (30 January 2009).
22
22 they are found, and that these origins are capable of being identified by their finders conveys an essentialism in their identity: allochthonous rocks will always be allochthonous, regardless of the passage of time, would never be confused with heterochthonous/autochthonous formations, and would be autochthonous someplace else – where they ‘came from’. That their origins can always be known means that identity is built in, essential and unchanging, regardless of differences in place or lapses of time. Coming upon an allochthonous rock, one would always recognize it as different from its surroundings, know where it came from, and, presumably, be able to return it to its original location (bracketing issues of cost, time, and energy). These source meanings and entailments, however, do not explain why one of the terms – allochtoon – should be further divided between West and notWest. This budding taxonomy invites the use of category analysis. Moreover, ‘non-Western’ is a curious taxonomic formulation, as one might expect the more common opposite of ‘Western,’ by linguistic or category logic, to be ‘Eastern.’ Linguistically speaking, then, its marking also calls for further analysis. The CBS operationalized this taxonomy using the place-names displayed without brackets in Table 3: Western allochthons come from Europe (but not Turkey), North America, Oceania, Japan, and Indonesia (including former Dutch Indonesia); non-Western allochthons come from Turkey, Africa, Latin America, and Asia. [Insert Table 3] The place names in brackets are drawn from a CBS note in the definitional text: ‘In the case of the non-Western allochthons, a distinction is often made among the following countries of origin: Turkey, Morocco, Suriname, and the Dutch
23 Antilles/Aruba. These are the most important target groups of minorities policy’ (Keij 2000: 24; transl. MvdH).23 A look at any map will show that, geographically speaking, the continents and countries listed as ‘non-Western’ are not uniformly found to the east of The Netherlands: Morocco, Latin America, Aruba, and Suriname lie to the west (and south). Moreover, some of those countries designated ‘Western’ are not to be found in that direction: Japan, Indonesia, and several parts of Europe surrounding The Netherlands lie to its east. What makes this partitioning of the globe make sense? Category analysis asks from what vantage point – geographic, historical, political, social, and so forth – a taxonomy has been drawn up. States’ categories for public policy purposes are developed, implicitly, from a particular point of view that often reflects historical experiences and, so, a particular time. It is not uncommon for ‘race-ethnicity’-related policy categories to reflect a state’s history of foreign policy and military actions. For instance, the taxonomy in the UK external examiner form (Table 1) takes the shape that it does because of the particular history of colonization, independence wars, and population movements of the state that has constructed it, making India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh more significant than Laos, for instance. In another example, the US Census added ‘Korean’ as an ‘ethnic’ category around the time of the Korean War and removed it in the subsequent census (Yanow 2003: 84). Categories also typically reflect the point of view of the group socially and politically dominant at the time of their creation and use. In the UK case, the categories in
23
Original: ‘Bij de niet-westerse allochtonen wordt vaak onderscheid gemaakt naar de volgende herkomstlanden: Turkije, Marokko, Suriname en de Nederlandse Antillen/ Aruba. Het zijn de belangrijkste doelgroepen van het minderhedenbeleid.’
24 Table 1 are named and the taxonomy is structured from the perspective of the hegemonically dominant Anglo-Saxon Englishman, who occupies first place in the list (White-British; the use of ‘British’ rather than ‘English’ is curious, given the other two terms). In this form ‘White’ looks to Ireland and Scotland for its others – not to Wales, interestingly enough, and not distinguishing between Protestant and Catholic Irish – and lumps French, German, Canadian, South African, Australian, and other ‘Whites’ into a single ‘Other White Background’ category, reducing nationality, language/religion/culture, and other trait differences to skin colour, as it does with ‘Other Black’ (but not ‘Other Asian’: ‘Yellow’ is not used, nor is ‘Red’, the other two colour terms that commonly appear in older taxonomies). African-Americans would presumably fit under ‘Other Black’, rather than under ‘Other White Background’ with other sorts of US-Americans who do not have their own colour-based categories. But in The Netherlands’ taxonomy, its colonies and Kingdom components, former or present, do not all receive the same treatment: Indonesia (‘including former Dutch Indonesia,’ independent in 1949) is ‘Westernized,’ whereas two others – Suriname (independent in 1975), Dutch Antilles/Aruba (newly designated Dutch states or municipalities; see note 13) – are not. A sense of noblesse oblige at times marks state policies – a postcolonial power looking out for the interests of its former colonies and/or for colonial subjects in its civilian or military employ – and this can be manifested in the categories created. But although this might explain why Indonesia is ‘Western,’ it does not fully explain the ‘not-Western’ marking of Suriname and Dutch Antilles/Aruba.24 A troubled
24
Unlike Indonesia, immigrants from Suriname and the Dutch Antilles/Aruba had not been working for the colonial administration, so the sense of obligation would not have extended to them. Perhaps more importantly, they themselves were not of Dutch
25 relationship with guest workers might also explain a category schema – but only Turkey and Morocco are separated out for treatment as ‘non-Western.’ Spain and Italy, earlier sources of migrant labour, are not so designated, even though their nationals, along with those of other European Mediterranean countries, had for some time been seen as problem groups and were included among those targeted by the 1983 ‘ethnic minorities’ policies (although their designation as problem groups was later removed). Poland and other EasternEuropean countries, present-day sources of migrant labour, are also not designated ‘non-Western’, although migrant workers from there are, by some reports, seen as problematic a group as earlier ones. Mapping the named states and continents identified as Western and notWestern clearly points to a division along hemispheric lines. But that is so selfevident that one might well ask why North-South designations were not used. One explanation for the particular partitioning of the globe used in this taxonomy lies in the place character of its elements. Category elements typically are equivalent in kind, like elements appearing with like in parallel structures (e.g., in the form that is the source of Table 1, English, Irish, and Scottish are grouped together, as are Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi). An imbalance in the structural equivalence of a taxonomy’s members – e.g., in that form, ‘Chinese’ is structurally different from the other terms, which are hyphenated – raises questions about the logical schema underlying the taxonomy. The category elements in the CBS operationalization of non-Western allochtoon are a mixture of place types: nation-states – Turkey, Japan, Indonesia – are intertwined with continents – Europe, Africa, North America,
descent.
26 Latin America, Oceania, Asia. Turkey is excluded from Europe and designated non-Western (as befitting current EU-membership debates) – but it is isolated and not joined to any other continent; Japan and Indonesia are excluded from Asia, but both are identified as Western, whereas ‘Asia’ is designated notWestern. Europe and Africa appear to be conceptually opposed, as are North and Latin America. The illogic of the taxonomy—its ‘category errors’—as well as the categories’ geographic placement within the taxonomy suggests that something other than a geographic orientation is operative, whether East-West or along some other axis. The logic that underlies linguistic marking points toward a possible explanation of these puzzles. That marking logic suggests that people from ‘not-Western’ places – Turkey, Morocco, Africa, Suriname, the Dutch Antilles/Aruba, Latin America, and Asia – are, from the perspective of the Dutch state, ‘more different’ from, and perhaps even somehow ‘lesser’ than, autochthonous Dutch than those from ‘Western’ places – Europe, North America, Oceania (Australia, New Zealand), Japan, and Indonesia. The latter – members of the unmarked category – comprise the ‘normal’ condition; but condition of what? The CBS notes that dividing allochthonous Netherlanders between West and non-West is based on the ‘different socio-economic and cultural position of Western and non-Western allochthons’: ‘When a group strongly resembles the Dutch population, socioeconomically or culturally, this group is regarded as Western allochthon’ (Keij 2000: 24; transl. MvdH). This leads the CBS to define allochthons from Indonesia, for example, as Western because many of them are ‘of Dutch ancestry’ (Keij 2000: 24). Although what this means is not specified, it seems to indicate a lesser degree of difference than those from Suriname or the Dutch
27 Antilles/Aruba would present. The implication is that ‘Indonesian’ Westernallochthons designates not indigenous Indonesians but, instead, Dutch (totoks) or part-Dutch (Indos) who came to The Netherlands after Indonesian independence (1949). They are designated allochtoon because they were themselves born outside of The Netherlands or have one parent so born; but they are designated Western allochtoon because the population of their or their parent’s place of birth ‘strongly resembles’ the Dutch ‘socio-economically or culturally.’ How they have achieved this resemblance is not spelled out, as if that were part of the national common sense. In this way, the ‘West’ is itself being used metaphorically a placeholder for that set of socio-economic-cultural traits associated with ‘Dutch-ness’, specifically, and ‘European-ness’ more broadly. The unmarked ‘normalization’ of this set of resemblance traits introduces gradations of similarity and difference into the category scheme. That hierarchy is based on the meaningfulness of ‘place’, emphasized in the main term pair’s shared root – chthōn. A similar place-based hierarchy, similarly linked to the notion of essential origins, characterizes a term used in other states to demarcate among its population groups: ‘race.’ Might the allochtoon-autochtoon discourse share characteristics with racial discourses, in a way that would explain the taxonomic oddity of Western—not-Western allochtoon?
Birthplace and race: Modern discourse, ancient theories The ancient Greeks, among them Hippocrates (460-377 BCE), theorized that the material world was comprised of four elements: earth, air, fire (sun), and water (see Greenwood 1984). Each of these was understood to correspond
with a bodily ‘humour’ or fluid: black bile, blood, yellow bile, and phlegm.
25
28 In
the ancient view, an individual was marked by the balance and character of the four elements present in the place – the land – in or on which he or she was born; and human behaviour was shaped by the predominating humour in the individual’s combination of the four. That balance, in other words, was affected by two characteristics of birth: genealogy (bodily-biological; today we would say genetic) and environment (geographic-geologic). The set of elements-humours and their associated behaviours is presented in Table 4. [Insert Table 4 here] By the 18th century, these ideas had been joined in northern Europe with normative attitudes linked to ideas of progress and perfectability as depicted in the ‘Great Chain of Being,’ itself tied to Protestant interpretations of Biblical accounts of creation (themselves under the sway of the development of natural philosophy and its moves to develop scientific taxonomies – kingdom, phylum/division, class, order, family, genus, species – for all living creatures). Swedish taxonomist Linnaeus made this linkage explicit in the 1758 10th edition of Systema Naturae (originally published in The Netherlands in 1735). Quoting Allan Pred with respect to Sweden, Marselis (2008: 453) notes that this is ‘the point in history when “scientific racism textually arrived in Sweden,” although the term ‘race’ did not come into use before the end of the 18th century.’ Linnaeus’ ideas about race spread through other parts of Europe along with his classification theories. In the 19th century these ideas were reinforced by the developing anthropological science, on the one hand, with its roots in colonial
25
In addition, each of these was seen as combining two primary qualities: the dimensions of hot/cold and dry/moist (Greenwood 1984). This aspect is not explored here.
29 administrative practices (see, e.g., Salemink 2003, ch. 1) and encounters with other ‘races’, and the growing science of statistics and its theoreticians’ ideas about eugenics, on the other. These several attitudes joined the humoursbehaviours links with particular ‘racial’ groups denoted by northern European perceptions of those groups’ skin colour (see Table 5). [Insert Table 5 here] These ideas explicitly link geographic place-ness – and specifically, the notion that the place of one’s birth, with its own particular earth-air-sun-water characteristics, determines one’s character – not only to ‘identity’ but to a discourse that enacts 19th-20th century theories of race. Place of birth, the defining constituent of allochtoon and autochtoon, anchors Netherlands policy discourse, enacted in the set of CBS definitions rooted in ‘country of origin,’ one’s own or – if one is Netherlands-born – one’s ancestor’s. As a surrogate for character and behaviour, ‘birthplace’ becomes a ‘stronger’ or ‘weaker’ approximation to ‘Dutchness’ as the specific location of birth is closer to or more distant from The Netherlands, not so much in geographic terms per se but where geography serves as a proxy for identity in socioeconomic and cultural terms. In linking birthplace to the notion of race through their ‘earth, country or land’ etymology, allochtoon-autochtoon join – through a metaphoric process – their own essentialist ideas about identity with those embedded in ‘race,’ and along with these, many of that term’s negative connotations, as well. This linkage among birth, geography, and ‘identity’ becomes even stronger when one notes that nation, naturalization (becoming a citizen of a country other than the one in, on or of which one was born – a kind of symbolic rebirth), and nature, a term commonly used to mean ‘character,’ all share the same root: nātiō, meaning
30 race or breed, from nātus, to be born (Middle English, from Old French, from Latin; American Heritage Dictionary 1975: 874-75). Conceptually speaking, then, is it possible for Netherlands-born (i.e., second generation) allochthons, through some naturalization process, become Dutch in ‘nature’ and thereby fullfledged members of the autochthonous Dutch ‘nation’? In allochtoon-autochtoon and Western—not-Western pairings, birthplace becomes not just a surrogate term for ‘ethnicity’ but, as it brings ancient ideas of place and behaviour or character into play, a stand-in for ‘race’ itself (perhaps less in a genetic sense than a geographic sense – although the link between geography and birth suggests that ‘genes’ may not be far behind). The taxonomic distinctions do not explicitly differentiate between ‘coloured’ people and ‘white’ ones: the language of Western allochtoon, non-Western allochtoon, and autochtoon does not explicitly name skin, eye, and hair colours, nose, lip, and brow sizes, or behavioural traits; but basing the differentiation among persons and groups so designated on ‘socio-economic and cultural differences’ ties the place-based terms to behavioral implications in the kind of hierarchymaking that explicitly racial discourses rest on. In its contemporary usage in Netherlands policy categories, those behavioral implications link to assumptions concerning certain groups which draw on stereotypes of collective behaviours. These sustain and feed certain prejudices, leading to the pejorative character that allochtoon, especially its marked, ‘not-Western’ form, carries, as noted explicitly by Mrs. Felter and implicitly, through the allochtoon Smurf, by cartoonist Oppenheimer.
31 Race by other means? Policy and analytic implications In the mid-20th century research and government reports that discuss allochthons in the Southern province of Brabant, we find discursive parallels with the current uses of the term: allochtoon served even then to differentiate among population subgroups, ‘othering’ some and challenging the possibilities for their integration. We suspect that in its use at local and regional levels 50 years ago, allochtoon may have carried some of the same pejorative labelling character it now possesses. That older usage suggests that the point of departure for population differentiation in general in The Netherlands is a national-cultural construction of outsiders of whatever sort as a policy problem, although defined today primarily in terms of a disadvantaged socio-economic status relative to those Dutch with many generations born in the country (van der Haar et al. 2009).26 Allochtoon and autochtoon are not unique to Netherlands discourse, although their specific usages and cultural meanings elsewhere differ. Allochtoon is found also in the Dutch speaking part of Belgium (Flanders) where, inspired by its northern neighbour, the terms are used in immigration policy, first appearing
26
Frederic Schaffer (personal communication, 15 February 2009) raises the question of euphemistic and pejorative intent with respect to the introduction of allochtoon/ autochtoon: were they introduced to euphemize pejorative ‘racial’ categories, he asks, or to introduce racist talk? The questions are intriguing, but we have found no ‘smoking gun’ in the documentary record that would unequivocally support either case, and the historical account we provide here, with its 1950s usage, renders any account perforce more complex. Clearly, the Ministry’s demand of Verwey-Jonker that she not use ‘migrant’ suggests an effort to euphemize; but that would imply a neutrality to allochtoon that, in our view, the earlier history does not support – less on ‘racial’ grounds than on grounds of difference. This account also suggests a more complex unfolding of the ‘euphemism treadmill’ than what Pinker (2002: 212) proposes: if our historical account has merit, it suggests that the later pejoration recovered, so to speak, earlier attitudes toward ‘foreigners’, even those who were co-nationals but from other provinces with other socio-economic and religious-cultural backgrounds. It confirms, however, his notion that ‘concepts, not words, are primary in people’s minds’ (2002: 213).
in a 1989 document (Jacobs and Rea 2006).
27
32 In Carinthia in southern
Austria, during mid-decade altercations over bilingual Slovenian-German road signs in which unidentified parties crossed out the Slovenian parts of the signs, Austrian nationals of Slovenian heritage were designated allochthons (sources at the University of Vienna, personal conversations, May 2008).28 And in Francophone Africa there is an elaborate discourse centring on autochthone (the French spelling), rather than allochthon. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ivory Coast, and Cameroon, autochthone (synonym, indigène, indigenous; antonym, allogène) designates the ‘original’ occupants of a territory, who therefore have access to land and jobs and can vote and run for office. It is an ‘authenticity’ discourse over ‘who really belongs here?’ and the displacement of some groups by other immigrant groups, where the newcomers are not European colonials but other African tribes (Ceuppens and Geschiere 2005; Geschiere 2009).29 Although we have not (yet) found this focus an explicit part
27
Belgian researchers have coined another term – islamallochtoon, referring primarily to people with Turkish and Moroccan backgrounds – for counting the number of allochthonous students coming from Islamic countries (see Lacante et al. 2007).
Srdjan Vucetic (personal communication, Summer 2010) pointed our attention to the role of the late right-wing party leader Jörg Haider in these language fights, which tied into his longstanding opposition to bilingualism there. Autochthon is also used among wine growers and experts in Austria, including at wine seminars and tastings, to designate the origin of the grapes used to produced the bottled wine: such grapes are considered ‘pure’, growing naturally in their region, and are not cross-bred; some growers specialize in autochthonous wines, growing only autochthonous grapes (Heidrun Huber, personal communication, 5 August 2008; see also www.rotweissrot.de/oesterreich-wein/weinglossar?stichwort=autochthon). This echoes discussions in Jerez (Spain) concerning the varying quality of the wine produced in the sherry solera as the vine is moved as little as a few meters down the hill from one soilsun-water-air spot to another, as well as the likeness a vine bears to the human figure (first author’s fieldnotes, 25 May 1993).
29
28
The matter of authenticity – who ‘really’ belongs, and therefore is entitled to enjoy certain rights – is also part of the identity discourse in Malaysia, where the category bumiputra/bhumiputra, used to distinguish indigenous Malays from ethnic Chinese and Indians, carries a meaning equivalent to allochtoon: ‘son of the soil’ (Yanow 2003: 73).
33 of Netherlands policy discussions, it is not hard to hear the concerns as an undercurrent in contemporary discourse. The implications of the metaphoric entailments of the term pair for persons are clear: the ‘stuff’ of which both allochthons and autochthons are made is built in – their identity is essential – and it is eternal – their ‘origins’ are always identifiable; no amount of time will turn an allochtoon into an autochtoon. Even were the CBS to revise its category names for policy and/or administrative reasons, other policy arenas (as well as everyday discourse) support the unchanging essentialism built in to the terms. For example, during 2008, the government discussed starting a registry of ‘problem youth’ of Antillean background (Kabinet botst met Kamer over Index Antillianen 2008), a discussion extended by then-Minister of Internal Affairs Guusje ter Horst to registering the allochtoon background of criminals in general (van Zoelen 2008). Although the proposal for a specifically Antillean index was finally rejected (Meerhof 2008) in favour of a registry of all problem youth (without direct reference to those of allochtoon identity), its conceptualization is grounded in those same eternal-essentialist identity properties of allochtoon, even when the youth in question are second or third generation allochthons – i.e., persons whose ‘original’ country is The Netherlands, where they hold citizenship. This essentialist presupposition leads to such situations as a business meeting in a café in which two expatriates, a ‘white’ American and a ‘black’ Surinamese, each residing in The Netherlands for well over 20 years, can still be asked by the
Des Gasper (personal communication, 5 May 2010) notes that the term ‘has been virulent in Malaysia (since the 1950s), used by Malays against Chinese (and Indian) Malaysians.’ He suggests that there have been similar ‘Bhumi-X’ discourses elsewhere, e.g., in Bangladesh.
34 server, overhearing their conversation in fluent Dutch mixed with professional terms in English, ‘But where do you really come from?’ (K. Davis and Nencel 2010; on the same challenge in another context, see Yanow 1999). There is a conceptually symbiotic relationship between the paired terms: ‘allo’ derives its conceptual meaning here in no small part from the presence there, somewhere else, of an ‘auto,’ where that ‘allo’ becomes an indigenous, native person.30 At the same time, in the category schema, although allochtoon now has something akin to a genus-species-subspecies structure (as Table 3 shows), autochtoon has no subdivisions. It is as if the state’s creation out of ten provinces has been disappeared and forgotten – as if its provincial structure remains in name only, without noticing lingering linguistic, cultural, and hierarchical differences between, for instance, the Protestant north and the Catholic south, between Frisian, Brabantian, Limburgsian, and ‘Hollandian.’ The erasure of memory created by this marking of birth-places is brought into sharp relief, graphically, in considering an alternate presentation of Table 3 (see Table 6): [Insert Table 6 here] The blank space under autochtoon silences a great deal of history of linguistic and, at times, cultural difference and discriminatory attitudes, behaviours, and acts. The notion that allochthons can never be ‘real’ Dutch enacts a social distancing or ‘Othering’. That ‘allochtoon’ in general public usage more commonly connotes persons identified by the marked ‘non-Western’ completes the transformation of the category terms from what many statisticians
30
We thank Conny Roggeband for helping us articulate this point.
35 apparently consider neutral designators (municipal Research and Statistics Office, interview, 21 November 2008) intended to serve as practical analytic tools into pejorative labelling as used in wider societal discourse. ‘Birthplace’ – the value-neutral descriptor intended by the formal definitions of allochtoon and autochtoon – takes on non-neutral meaning in taxonomic usage: the term customarily designates a city, town or village,31 not the continents or countries that define both Western and non-Western allochthons. Such usage calls into question the idea that ‘allochtoon’ is based in any literal sense on birthplace. The policy implications of the metaphor are that no amount of cultureand citizenship-training (inburgering) or other public policy program can achieve an allochtoon’s integration into the authochtoon population. If their origins are always identifiable, allochthons can conceivably be returned to ‘where they came from,’ literally or figuratively, to the place where they are presumably autochthonous. This is the perception underlying Member of Parliament (and Christian Democrat Party/CDA member) Mirjam Sterk’s recent statement that the government should be ‘sending them [The Netherlands’ Roma] back’ to where they came from (Radio Netherlands Worldwide 2010). The only way that an allochtoon can be turned into an autochtoon is through repatriation to the country of origin/birthplace – in a reverse process from the ‘repatriation’ of Indische Nederlanders (Indonesian Dutch) to The Netherlands. The idea that allochthons should go back to where they came from echoes in other policy terms: ‘guest workers’ (gastarbeiders), for instance, were never expected to
31
The distinction is meaningful from a state-level perspective: the birth certificates required for certain population registration activities are issued in Europe only at the municipal level; passports, issued by the state, are not accepted as substitutes, even though they themselves include birth-place and -date information verified when they were issued on the basis of a birth certificate.
36 stop being guests (much as migrant labourers in Germany and in the US were not expected to remain). Both allochtoon-autochtoon and race discourses share not only the emphasis on place (land and its other geological components), but also an understanding of the meanings of these components for character and behavioural traits. Allochtoon-autochtoon enables a race discourse in which ‘birthplace’ stands in as a surrogate for the term that has been taboo for the last 60-some years, with behavioural traits signalled by continent (Africa, Latin America) or state (Turkey, Morocco). It is a ‘lumpy’ discourse: the category schema presents all Latin Americans, all North Americans, and all Africans, for instance, as behaving in the same fashion. That North Americans include a sizable number of Latin Americans and Africans is not accounted for in the schema. The Netherlands is similarly treated as internally homogeneous, as Table 6 graphically shows. Identity’s essential and eternal character underlies the discussion concerning extending non-Western allochthon status to the third generation, i.e., to otherwise-autochthonous persons who have one foreign-born grandparent. If what is now ‘merely’ discussion becomes policy, a decade and more from now that policy could conceivably be extended to fourth, fifth, and subsequent generations: the metaphor analysis suggests that this search for origins has no naturally-occurring end. It also makes no room for internal differentiation – one cannot be partially allochthonous or autochthonous. This ‘either-or’ characteristic may be one of the conceptual elements keeping a ‘hyphenation’ discourse – Surinamese-Netherlander, for instance – from taking hold: despite efforts to introduce it in the 2008 Joint Integration Agenda (Tweede Kamer
37 2007-2008, footnote 3), the hyphenation has not caught on, perhaps because hyphenated identities cannot be accommodated within ‘chthonous’ essentialism. What we have here, then, is a trope that draws its meaning from an intertwining of metaphoric origins and category structure, with the latter resting on a marked term. One of the unresolved issues for interpretive policy analysis looking at frames, metaphors, stories, and so on is the relationship among these several terms. If metaphors frame, for instance, how are they different from ‘frames’? This case suggests one relationship: the category structure is the main operative device in framing policy discourse, but allochtoon-autochtoon operates within that taxonomy in metaphoric fashion, bringing its own orientation toward birthplace to explain the development of pejorative connotations to what otherwise might be value-neutral terms. Another theoretical issue, for which the case does not provide explanation, is the extent to which transforming a category schema from a slotting type to a prototype one – that is, from greater exactitude to greater fuzziness – might facilitate the shift from descriptively neutral category elements to more pejorative connotations. A third concern is the extent to which allochtoon-autochtoon can be considered metaphors. In The Netherlands, although non-native Dutch speakers (and even some for whom Dutch is their native language) report confusing the two terms (using autochtoon when meaning allochtoon, and vice versa) and they are more or less recognized as not native Dutch terms, it seems safe to say that few are cognizant of their geologic source. If that is the case, how could the terms be carrying the meanings of land-earth-country and their ancient or modern racial associations into public policy discourse? An answer lies in the character of conventional metaphors. Although allochtoon-autochtoon is
38 certainly not a novel metaphor, and explicit awareness of its metaphoric character – that it has some prior source of meaning that travels with it to its application or target – may have been dulled, its source-domain structure and terminology (in geology) are certainly still very much alive and active, and its conceptual and linguistic mappings (from source-domain image and terminology to target-domain image and terminology) are still recoverable, and operable.32 The fact that Mrs. Felter (in the first epigraph), in answering the Parliamentarian’s question about the meaning of allochtoon, answers by saying, ‘“Allochtoon” wants to say that you are not from here,’ shows that its metaphoric meaning is capable of being activated, even if its specific geological source domain is not explicitly and consciously available to the speaker. Although not engaging autochtoon-allochtoon as metaphors, Geschiere (2009: 29) advances a parallel argument about the vitality for contemporary discourse and its comprehension, of the ‘soil’ meaning residing in the terms’ roots: ‘Even in such places as present-day Flanders and the Netherlands, where people hardly seem to be conscious any more that the notion is centred in the soil, the reference [of the terms to the soil] still has power’. That said, the non-everyday character of the terms also contributes to their implicit meanings – the ‘work’ that they perform – in policy discourse. The terminology has a scientific aura33 that marks the discourse and serves to
32
Alan Cienki discusses whether people ‘hold the histories of words in their heads’. We agree with him both that this is unlikely and that ‘earlier meaning…can be maintained and developed as associations between words in a network’ (1999: 314); but the case we present here is not one of Dutch-language words building new meanings on older roots, as in his examples. Instead, we have a term pair borrowed into everyday discourse via (social) scientific usage. Their meanings, then, seem to have traveled from those sources, i.e., from outside of the linguistic sounds and logic of spoken Dutch, rather than from older Dutch terms.
33
We thank Frank Hendriks (personal conversation, 22 September 2008) for raising this
39 convey a sense of neutral objectivity to the concepts so designated and to the schema itself, as if these were all naturally-occurring, timeless, universal variables and their classification were the product of scientific investigation. The terms and the discourse they grace thereby draw on the power and standing of ‘science’ in the modern world, which in turn enables their masking as state creations and makes it more difficult to challenge their applicability to the persons slotted into each of the categories. Allochtoon-autochtoon categorization thereby becomes a racial discourse carried on implicitly in a setting in which the use of the term ‘race’ may be verboten, but where ‘everyone’ knows, and understands, tacitly, the unspoken text. The ‘racial’ hierarchy inscribed by the Western—not-Western taxonomy masquerades as descriptively neutral. It is that unspoken discriminatory attitude that makes cartoonist Oppenheimer’s ‘allochsmurf’ such a biting commentary and which accounts for the punishing character of the discourse. North American readers of this article have found it puzzling that we find it necessary to go to the lengths we do to establish the racial character of the allochtoonautochtoon discourse. For them, it is self-evident. We take this as indicative of how much more self-aware and reflective contemporary North American public and policy discourse is with respect to affirmative action and other measures intended to foster integration (which is not the same as saying that that goal has been fully achieved). But the reaction is reminiscent of a question raised over a decade ago about the lack of affirmative action policies in Israel, to which the answer was, ‘social policy action cannot be taken toward a category of people in
point. It parallels one made elsewhere with respect to US categories for ‘race’ and ‘ethnicity’ (Yanow 2003: 186).
40 the absence of explicit talk about the qualities that constitute that category’ (Yanow 1999). When explicit talk is silenced because of a societal (or wider) taboo, discussing the attributes of policy discourse and their implications is even more difficult. The taboo makes it impossible simply to name this a ‘racial’ discourse and to analyze it as such. An allochtoon, wherever found, is a person out of place – echoing here, intentionally, Mary Douglas’ definition of ‘dirt’ as matter ‘out of place’ (Douglas 1966). The term designates a person born on some foreign territory or of it— through a parental heritage that, in the present Netherlands discourse, posits no limits on how far backwards in time the counting of generations will go; a rock that carries the unchangeable, long-recognizable essence of its identity within it — forever to demarcate ‘authenticity’ or lack thereof — which can be tossed back — repatriated — to its place of origin. These are the policy/action implications of the metaphor — and as they are not buried deeply below the surface of policy discourse, they challenge the possibility of state integration policies. Those policies and the essentialism of the terms exist in a tension: the discourses are incommensurable. The policy problem is intractable because it centres on the meaningfulness of ‘otherness’ in The Netherlands in a way that suggests that this can be overcome only through achieving ‘sameness’ — whereas the hyphenated discourse that has not taken root holds otherness and sameness together in the same category term. It is a policy discourse all the more dangerous for carrying its meanings in silence, which is the power of metaphors and of the unspoken, yet tacitly known organizing logic embedded in category structures.
41 Acknowledgements Earlier versions of this article have been presented at the Interpretive Policy Analysis (Amsterdam, 31 May - 2 June 2007), International Studies Association (New York, 17 February 2009), and Western Political Science Association (March 2009) conferences and in several seminars, including a University of Vienna Institute for Political Studies Ganggespräch (5 May 2008), Tilburg University’s School of Politics and Public Administration (22 September 2008), the University of Strasbourg’s MISHA Center/Sciences Po (3 November 2008), Columbia University’s Center for Urban Research and its Policy Institute for Social and Economic Research and Policy (25 November 2008), the Vrije Universiteit’s Faculty of Social Sciences/COM DHL Workgroup (2 December 2008), the University of Essex’ Center for Theoretical Studies in the Humanities and Social Sciences’ ESRC Networks for Methodological Innovation Mini-conference on Discourse Analysis Networks (10-11 October 2008), the Institute for Global and International Studies at George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs, and the Institute for Social Studies, Den Haag (7 May 2010). Many thanks to Anna Durnová, Vincent Dubois, Lee Ann Fujii, Des Gasper, David Howarth, Merlijn van Hulst, Aletta Norval, and Dorian Warren for making these possible and to them and other participants and colleagues, especially Hans van Amersfoort, Alan Cienki, Kerry Crawford, Didier Georgakakis, Halleh Ghorashi, Steven Jeffares, Niilo Kauppi, Lorraine Nencel, Bowen Paulle, Conny Roggeband, Jay Rowell, Fred Schaffer, John Schuster, Karlijn Völke, and Srdjan Vucetic, for their thoughtful readings of the ideas and their challenges to clarify them.
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47 Appendix I. Original texts of epigraphs Mevrouw Van Gent: Mijn eerste vraag is: bent u allochtoon? Mevrouw Felter: Ik ben geen allochtoon. Ik ben een Nederlandse staatsburger. Ik ben een zwarte Nederlander. Mevrouw van Gent: Ik vraag u dit, omdat wij het hier in het voorgesprek uitgebreid over hebben gehad. Toen zei u ook: Nederlandse staatsburger dan wel ingezetene. U vond dat het woord ‘allochtoon’ een negatief effect kan hebben, omdat mensen daarmee in een groep worden gedrukt. Ik zou het plezierig vinden als u dat toelicht. Mevrouw Felter: ‘Allochtoon’ is in mijn visie een racistische term die mensen uitsluit. Ik ben een geboren Nederlander. Vanuit de koloniën kom ik hier. Toen ik hier kwam, was ik rijksgenoot. Die connotatie is veranderd naar ‘allochtoon’, heel negatief. ‘Allochtoon’ wil zeggen dat je niet van hier bent. Ik ben van hier, ik woon hier, ik participeer in en draag bij aan de samenleving. Ik zie niet in waarom ik niet van hier zou zijn…. Source: Tweede Kamer (2003-2004: 241).
Ik smurf hier al vijftig jaar en ze zien me nog steeds als een allochsmurf. Semantisch gesmurf! Source: Rubenl.nl [Ruben L. Oppenheimer], NRC Handelsblad, 1 March 2008: 14.
Word count: 11,795 [not including bios or keywords] Date: 24 October 2010
48 Figure 1. Depicting Statistics Netherlands’ category structure as of igure 1999 (with possible third generation designation under discussion)
NL resident registered in GBA autochtoon allochtoon
Western
Not-Western
1st generation
2nd generation
(3rd generation) [grandparent]
Forms of British Types of ‘White’ Types of ‘Black’ White-British Black or Black British–Caribbean Asian or Asian British– Indian Black or Black British– African Asian or Asian British– Bangladeshi
Forms of Irish White-Irish
Forms of Scottish White-Scottish
Nonhyphenated
Other Other White Background Other Black Background
Types of ‘Asian’
Asian or Asian British– Pakistani
Chinese
Other Asian Background
Mixed background Other ethnic background
Table 1. Category terms designating ‘ethnic’ background in UK higher education
Source: Created by the authors using the categories listed in the form ‘Agreement for tutors, demonstrators, and external examiners,’ University of Edinburgh, 2008-2009, p. 1. Other than the three category names beginning with ‘Types of’ in the left-hand column, the terms are as they appear in narrative fashion on that form. Most of these seem in keeping with the 2007-08 categories developed by the Higher Education Statistics Agency (HESA) using a ‘coding frame recommended by ONS [the Office of National Statistics’] for UK-wide data collection’. According to Information Analyst Rebecca Hobbs (personal correspondence, 24-27 August 2010), institutions make their own forms, and these are allowed to reflect local circumstances. Missing from this form but present in HESA’s 2007-08 revised list are White, Irish Traveller, and three types of “mixed”: Mixed - White & Black Caribbean; Mixed - White & Black African; Mixed - White & Asian. HESA also includes ‘Not known’ and ‘Information refused,’ neither of which appears on this form.
autoOriginal Roots
autochthonous auto: same + chthōn: land, country, earth 1640-1650 geology, for both geological formations and persons indigenous, aboriginal
heteroheterochthonous hetero: different, other + chthōn: land, country, earth original opposite of autochthonous geology not indigenous; foreign
alloallochthonous allos: other + chthōn: land, country, earth ca. 1910-1915 geology rocks, mineral deposits, or other elements that were not formed in the region where found; ‘not indigenous; foreign’ allochtoon (backformation from the adjective) allogène, Francophone Africa
Date Usage source Meaning in source
Present day NL policy terms Related policy & discourse terms, synonyms
autochtoon
not used in social policy discourse; replaced by allochtoon
Other uses
autochthone, Francophone Africa; indigenous, indigène Old Latin indu + root of Latin gignere, beget or bear (see gender, generate): originating and living or occurring naturally in an area or environment; synonyms at ‘native’ psychology: thoughts originating outside one’s train of thought; pathology: origin and location of a disease, lesion, etc.
Table 2. Etymologies of autochtoon-allochtoon Sources: American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 4th ed. (2006); Random House Unabridged Dictionary (2006); Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary (1996) (all accessed at http://dictionary.reference.com/ 30 January 2009).
51
ALLOCHTOON Western Europe (but not Turkey) North America Oceania Japan Indonesia (including former Dutch Indonesia) Turkey Africa [Morocco] Latin America Asia [Suriname, Dutch Antilles/ Aruba] not-Western
Table 3. Allocation of birthplace categories by West and not-West, highlighting the oppositional structure of the taxonomy.
Source: Constructed from the place names listed narratively in Keij (2000). Oceania refers to Australia and New Zealand. Bracketed names come from a separate statement in the document.
Element [land, geography] earth air fire water
+ Humor [body] black bile blood yellow bile phlegm
= Behaviour/Character melancholy nobility, militancy, courage choleric, excitable passivity
Table 4. The humor dominant in the combination of four elements produced a behaviour that characterized the individual’s identity
52 Elements earth air fire water Humors black bile blood yellow bile phlegm Behaviour/ Character melancholy nobility, militancy, courage choleric, excitable passivity Color/Race Black/Negroid Red/’Savage’/Indian Yellow/Mongoloid White/Caucasoid
Table 5. Adding the normative element, in the form of color/race
AUTOCHTOON
ALLOCHTOON Western Europe (but not Turkey) North America Oceania Japan Indonesia (including former Dutch Indonesia) non-Western Turkey Africa [Morocco] Latin America Asia [Suriname, Dutch Antilles/ Aruba]
Table 6. Bringing autochthonous Dutch into the category schema