Liberal Education Lecture: How Can It Help Us?

Dr. John Schoeberlein, Project Director on Islam in Eurasia at Harvard University, gave a lecture at the Free University in Tbilisi on February 15th on the usefulness of a liberal education, specifically anthropology, for life, society, and the individual. He elaborated on his personal experiences as a former student and current professor of anthropology and presented some fascinating ideas on the importance of a liberal education.

“Everything is becoming more integrated. A larger toolbox is required,” Dr. Schoeberlein explained, referring to the promise of a liberal education to equip students with the critical abilities to think analytically, problem-solve, and understand larger aspects of culture and societal behavior. Additionally, he outlined fundamental characteristics and concepts that describe liberal education, such as an emphasis on general knowledge, rather than instruction on specific tasks. He also discussed the importance of the concept of choice for students to help formulate their own course of study and the notion that students must actively engage themselves and participate in class discussions. While he explained these notions, he made clear that he did not wish to impose this system on Georgians, but rather discuss it and make it available. As he stated, “...being a missionary is not what I want to be.”

He drew on some examples when describing how anthropology fits within the framework of a liberal education and imparts knowledge, which facilitates an understanding of certain phenomena. For example, he explained that corruption exists in various different contexts that cannot be explained aptly by current economic models; however, anthropology provides a useful approach to understand corruption by turning to the different and specific cultural contexts in which it exists and invoking ideas of authority, family relations, and honor. While a payment may be deemed an act of corruption by one culture, it may be accepted as social norms by another. In this way, an anthropological study draws on specific cases and allows one to understand social systems and elements of culture, which is an approach that is not only theoretical but also applicable.

Dr. Schoeberlein highlighted the applicability of anthropology with an example in which a factory manager needs to lead a team of employees with different cultural backgrounds. In this scenario, training in anthropological ideas could endow the manager with the skill to understand why each employee acts a certain way, how to motivate him or her, and what each one values.

These are just a few snippets of some of the ideas Dr. Schoeberlein presented. It would also be an interesting follow-up to try to evaluate what Georgians think about liberal education, in contrast to a vocation-based education system. We welcome your thoughts and comments on these topics!

Cell Phone Data | Figures for the South Caucasus

Cell phones seem to have become indispensable in the West. The number of cell phones in the UK, for instance, has already exceeded the number of its people. Throughout the world, the total amount of cell phone owners increases every year.

So how does this trend look in the South Caucasus? It appears that more than half the adult population across the three countries already owns a mobile phone. Furthermore, the South Caucasus is one of the top growing global regions for usage of mobile phones since the percentage of cell phone users has grown faster than in the nominally largest growing markets of Brazil, Russia, India and China (the BRIC countries).

The CRRC Data Initiative (DI) indicates that the number of mobile phones per household in Azerbaijan reached 76 % in 2007, the highest percentage in the region. Armenia followed up on second place with 70 % cell phones per household and Georgia came on third place with 61 %.
As for the distribution across the country, there are (predictably) more phones in the capitals than in the countryside, as shown below in the chart.

However, recent growth has been particularly pronounced in rural areas. This has decreased the cell phone ownership gap between rural and urban areas. For example, rural Azerbaijan went from having cell phones in 32 % of households in 2006 to 64 % in 2007, a doubling of numbers in a single year. Rural Armenia increased from 47 % in 2006 to 66 % in 2007, an increase of nearly 20 % in a year, and rural Georgia reached the 50 % level in 2007 from having had 38 % the previous year, which still is a 12 % increase.

Although you could do the maths, CRRC household data does not provide direct figures on the total number of cell phones. This statistic is offered by the International Telecommunication Union (click on “Statistics”). With slightly older data, it shows Armenia as the country with the highest density of cell phones in the South Caucasus with 62,5 cell phones per 100 inhabitants (41,8 in 2006). Georgia follows up on second place with 59,1 cell phones per 100 inhabitants (38,4 in 2006) followed by Azerbaijan with 53,3 cell phones per 100 inhabitants (39,2 in 2006). Their data is based on an annual questionnaire sent to government agencies responsible for telecommunication. Caveat emptor (it may, for example, include inactive phones). It might be interesting to reconcile the numbers from various sources.

For a refreshing anthropological view on mobile phone usage in developing countries, in the New Scientist, click here.

Want to investigate this topic further? Check out our datasets!

Georgian Borderlands | Mathijs Pelkmans

Many social researchers working on the Caucasus bemoan the lack of good scholarly works on the region. However, one recent book, which is both excellent and readable, seems to have fallen under people's radars -- Mathijs Pelkmans' Defending the Border: Identity, Religion, and Modernity in the Republic of Georgia, which came out in 2006 with Cornell University Press.

Pelkmans' book is deeply embedded within the literature on the studies of borderlands. Using the case of Sarpi (and Ajara more generally), Pelkmans argues convincingly that the Georgian (Soviet) border was not like other borders treated in the academic literature, which were porous and where strong cross-border networks have and continue to play an important role. Conversely, the Georgian border still plays a strong role, despite the ease with which it is now crossed.

Sarpi, which is only part of the study, provides a fascinating place to study a the effects of a Soviet border. First, the village was split in half after 1921. Second, the community is the only predominantly Laz community in Georgia. Therefore, in practice, the community should have felt more oriented towards their Laz brethren on the other side of the border in Turkey, where the majority of Laz live, after the border reopened.

However, the Soviet Union did something incredible with their tactics for closed border zones. Despite the fact that those on the Sarpi side of the village still have relatives on the other side of the border and their families also used to have landplots across the border, the Georgian Laz hardly ever go across into Turkey. Furthermore, only two marriages have occurred between the two Sarpis and those only in the heady days right after the border opening.

So what happened? Pelkmans' book examines three types of bordering, the literal border, the border between Islam and Christianity and the relationship between an urban provincial capital of Batumi and its rural periphery. As a brief insight into the Islam/Chrisitian divide, Pelkmans discusses the many people within the community of Sarpi who have now converted to Christianity as part of Tbilisi's narrative of the temporary conversion of its people to Islam under the Ottoman yoke, and the book contains wonderful quotes to highlight the process by which these people chose to convert to Christianity. Furthermore, Pelkmans examines the perceptions of the Turkish Sarpi "other." Those on the Georgian side of the village feel that their brethren on the Turkish side of the border have lost their Laz identity and become turkified. Indeed, they often refer to them as Turks. Conversely, as Pelkmans notes, the Georgian Laz have lost many of their cultural traits as well.

You will have to read the book, to get insight into the other types of bordering. However, in short, Pelkmans argues that religious, spatial and cultural borders have come together to create a border that still exists in the minds of the residents of Sarpi.

A follow up study on the other side of the village would prove fascinating, but for the time being Pelkman's account is a wonderful read.

Ethnology in Georgia | Kevin Tuite

The CESS Conference 2007 in Seattle in mid-October saw a range of papers and panels on the Caucasus. One of the most engaging presentations was delivered by Kevin Tuite, who teaches in the department of anthropology at the University of Montreal. Professor Tuite has been coming to Georgia since 1985, wrote his dissertation on "Number Agreement and Morphosyntactic Orientation in the Kartvelian Languages" and describes himself as an ethnolinguist.

His particular research interest are rites in the Georgian highlands, both in Svaneti and in Pshavi/Khevsureti. Unsurprisingly, celebrations are characterized by much drinking. But they also include less obvious moments, such as the turning of plates counter-clockwise before eating at a ceremonial feast.

While the highlands are set apart from Georgia, they are also markedly different. Svaneti has been largely christianised, whereas the Orthodox church has only had superficial impact in Northeastern Georgia, so that pagan rites still predominate. Now, Professor Tuite says, some of the traditions are beginning to wane through migration out of the harsh valleys, and some locals are turning back to ethnographic literature to rediscover their older practices.

What makes such a presentation stand out are the stories, the usual ethnographer's privilege. Perhaps the most entertaining account was that of a shrine in Pshavi/Khevsureti that is so sacred that even the priest (khevisperi) remains outside the fence and does not dare enter.

So how, then, did the priest get the blood of the sacrificed animal onto the shrine, as tradition demands? Trust local ingenuity: apparently the priest stood outside the fence, prepared three snowballs, slaughtered the animal over them, and then threw the three snowbloodballs over the fence at the shrine.

For a glimpse into this world, check Professor Tuite's website which provides an engaging account of his field trips, as well as access to his various publications. It is available at www.philologie.com.