‘Mobility’
is
inherently political, concealing powerful
ideologies (Cresswell, 2006). This dissertation
explores the concept of mobility in terms of the
representation and legislation of nomadic
lifestyles. The introduction of the Criminal
Justice and Public Order Act in 1994, which
effectively outlawed a nomadic way of life,
sparked a flurry of academic interest yet little
has been written since this time. The research
presented here addresses this gap through an
auto-ethnography of New Age Travellers who have
‘settled’ on a permanent site in the East
Midlands. With a focus on the ‘adaptation and
continuity’ which, in common with other peripheral
groups, ensures cultural survival (Sibley, 1981),
the research examines the Travellers’ lived
experience as they undergo a transition from a
nomadic to semi-sedentary lifestyle. The data
reveals an unexpected ‘acceptance’ of this shift
as well as the importance placed on the geographic
and social community of site life. Mobility is no
longer the defining feature of the Travellers’
lifestyle, but may be seen as simply one strategy
in the ongoing creation of ‘autonomous
geographies’. This concept, borrowed from
Pickerill and Chatterton’s (2006) discussion of
alter-globalization movements, describes the
creation of spaces in which to enact everyday
lives beyond the confines of the dominant,
capitalist culture. It highlights the strategies
of adaptation and continuity and, ultimately, the
legitimacy of an alternative spatial and social
organization from which much could be learnt.
I began this research
with a focus on the ‘politics of mobility’ and a
concern for the way that Travellers had adjusted
to a seemingly enforced lack of mobility.
Stemming from my own experiences as a Traveller,
my interest was further piqued when an old
friend, describing the new ‘controlled access’
arrangements for Solstice celebrations at
Stonehenge, used the term “mutate and survive”
to explain her continued attendance. For some,
the ‘law’ had won and Stonehenge was no longer a
site of celebration and resistance, but for my
friend it was simply a case of adapting to
different circumstances to do what she had
always intended: celebrate the Solstice at
Stonehenge!
This same friend
lives on an ‘unauthorized’ Travellers site which
is now being granted ‘Official Site’ status. The
Travellers have settled here, they have a stake
in the local community, not just in terms of
employment but also voluntary work in local
schools, football teams and community groups,
and they intend to stay. Yet this presents a
paradox: what happens to Travellers when they
can no longer travel? For me, it meant living in
a house and gradually, though not completely,
discarding my Traveller identity. For others, it
has meant going abroad to travel or to settle.
And yet others, including these others, have
retained something of their lifestyle and
culture here in the UK.
The main theoretical
concerns for this study involve the ways that
Travellers have adapted and ‘survived’,
especially as it relates to place, and what this
may tell us about the concept of mobility in the
dominant culture. In many ways I am predisposed
to see the Travellers as having ‘survived’ and
to celebrate their adaptive strategies, and this
is based upon a firm belief that this is a
valid, alternative way of life. Like others
before me, I have difficulty with the term ‘New
Age Travellers’ as it is a media label with a
distinctly negative connotation, rather than a
term used by the Travellers themselves. I have
used it here as sparingly as possible,
preferring to simply use the term ‘Travellers’,
but it has sometimes been a useful shorthand to
clarify that I am speaking of a particular
cultural/historical group.
In my review of the
literature in chapter one, these distinctions
are seen to be somewhat misleading as it becomes
clear that all Travellers share a number of
similarities in terms of practical orientations
to space and place, economic practices and,
above all, the condemnation of their lifestyle
by the dominant culture. This condemnation is
largely based on ignorance of the practicalities
of a nomadic lifestyle, supported by the
mythological misrepresentations of Travellers in
the media and other cultural formats.
Ethnographic studies, such as those of David
Sibley (1981) and Judith Okely (1983), have
provided useful insights to the everyday lives
of Gypsies which are applicable to other
Travellers and peripheral groups. Furthermore,
they have challenged the myths which prevail in
the dominant culture and which see Travellers
represented as ‘out of place’ in both rural and
urban locations.
The rural/urban
stereotyping of Gypsies is challenged by
highlighting their dependence on a larger
economy (Okely, 1983) which has always
necessitated living in urban as well as rural
locations. Sibley (1981) thus describes them as
a ‘peripheral’ group - a term which is far
preferable to the disempowering ‘marginal’ - and
aligns them with Berger’s (1979) ‘Cultures of
Survival’. That the rural stereotype should
continue to be applied to New Age Travellers is
a disappointing failure in the academic
literature and perpetuates the unhelpful
distinction between ‘real’ and ‘deviant’
Travellers.
Whilst New Age
Travellers have suffered much the same
misrepresentation and demonization as other
Travellers, they have, in some ways, been
treated even more controversially. Subject to a
violent police offensive in 1985, they have also
been portrayed in the media in the most
offensive and derogatory ways. The legal
protection offered by the Race Relations Act to
Gypsies and Irish Travellers has rarely been
extended to these New Travellers, and Government
provision has failed to take their needs into
account.
The site at which I
undertook my fieldwork is one of the few
exceptions to this lack of provision. Originally
a Gypsy site, the land had been unused for many
years before these Travellers moved on. Having
lived there as an ‘unauthorized encampment’ for
the last eight years, the Travellers have now
been offered ‘Official Site’ status and basic
amenities are being installed. With construction
currently underway, I was able to study this
group of Travellers as they negotiate these
changes in their daily lives, on a practical and
mundane level but also on a cultural level.
Chapter two describes
the ethnographic methodology employed throughout
this research which, due to my own history as a
Traveller can best be described as an
‘auto-ethnography’. That is to say, I sought to
write about these Travellers with an
understanding which is informed by my personal
experience and history, yet is very much their
story. This required the careful negotiation of
my own insider/outsider role and the need for
continual critical self-reflection in order to
achieve a study which would yield theoretical
insights as opposed to simple description.
Using ethnographic
methods of participant observation, focus groups
and interviews, I was able to build up a large
body of data. The theoretical assumptions which
I was careful to uncover before embarking on my
fieldwork, were useful as ‘sensitizing concepts’
but were quickly found to be not wholly correct.
I took this to be a good sign, with the concepts
which subsequently emerged being properly
grounded in the data.
In chapter three’s
data analysis, I begin by describing how the
Traveller’s level of acceptance around their
current options surprised me, since legislation
introduced in the 1990s has undoubtedly
curtailed their mobility. On reflection,
however, this is entirely in keeping with
notions of adaptation and continuity described
by Sibley (1981) and others. Thus, I found that
the Travellers, far from feeling legally
constrained, displayed a more philosophical
attitude and cited several other choice-based
reasons for settling.
This has led me to
suggest that ‘travelling’ was not an end in
itself, but rather that it was simply one
strategy of resistance. Having found, through
the intended and unintended consequences of
changes in the dominant culture, that it is no
longer practical to live an entirely nomadic
life, these Travellers have adapted to - even
embraced - a new lifestyle which is best
described as a continuing ‘autonomous
geography’. This concept, coined by Jenny
Pickerill and Paul Chatterton (2006) in relation
to ‘alter-globalization movements’, describes
the creation of spaces in which people can
attempt to enact their lives in opposition to
the dominant, capitalist culture.
The ‘opposition’ of
New Age Travellers, whilst perhaps more
politically informed than that of other
Travellers, is not necessarily based on an
explicit autonomy agenda. Rather, it is a simple
desire to live a different way of life to that
of the dominant culture. It is also not unique
to this group of Travellers and can be seen in
the way that Gypsies, when living on an official
site, will continue to observe their own spatial
and social organization as far as possible.
The
fear of Travellers, which is evident in the
societal reactions against them, can best be
understood as intolerance towards the different
spatial and social organization of these groups.
It is difficult to offer a definitive
explanation from the data I have gathered, but
what is clear from my research is that the
Travellers do not pose the kind of ‘threat’ that
the dominant culture fears. Ultimately, the
provision of sites for those who wish to live
this way represents an economical solution to
the current housing crisis and, furthermore, an
experiment in alternative geographies from which
much could be learnt.
Mobility
is
central to our culture yet, as Cresswell
(2006:2) highlights, it is comprised of
conflicting representations:
Mobility as
progress, as freedom, as opportunity, and as
modernity, sit[ting] side by side with mobility as
shiftless, as deviance and as resistance.
Thus,
certain
forms of mobility - commuting to work, foreign
holidays, student gap years - are positively
encouraged, whilst others - hitchhiking,
tramping, nomadic lifestyles - are frowned upon,
at best, and criminalized at worst. Gypsies and
other Travellers have always fallen into the
latter category, perceived as a threat to
society and cast as ‘outsiders’ (Sibley, 1981).
Examining such outsider groups can tell us a
great deal about the dominant culture
(Cresswell, 1996:9; Sibley, 1981:4) yet, in
terms of academic literature, this is truly a
‘road less travelled’.
Whilst
Travellers
have been seen as a threat, subject to draconian
legislation from as early as the 16th
Century (Okely, 1983:1), one of the first
attempts to provide a sociologically-informed
account was that of Farnham Rehfisch in 1958
(Okely, 1983:25). Rehfisch’s study, published in
his 1975 collection, Gypsies,
Tinkers and Other Travellers, is an
attempt to overcome a previous lack of “reliable
studies on their social structure and social
organization” (1975:Preface), yet this
collection still carries descriptions of
travellers as ‘pariahs’ and ‘parasites’ (Barth,
1975:287). Judith Okely (1983) and David Sibley
(1981) have both produced ethnographic studies
which successfully address this attitude by
relating the Gypsy culture to the dominant
culture of which it is, in fact, a part (Okely,
1983:30), and by highlighting the
ethnocentricity of both popular and academic
(mis)understandings of Gypsy culture (Okely,
1983:33; Sibley, 1981:23-24).
New
Age
Travellers, a movement which emerged in the
early 1970s, are often categorized as separate
and distinct from Gypsies, not least by Gypsies
themselves (Levinson & Sparkes, 2004:720)
and certainly in terms of government policy
(Wilkin, 1998). Nonetheless, studies of Gypsies
provide a useful starting point and actually
highlight a number of similarities. These
include the perception of Travellers as a
‘threat’, as being ‘out of place’ in both rural
and urban settings, as well as the continuity
and adaptation of nomadic cultures at the
margins of the dominant culture. These themes
run throughout the literature and I will examine
them now in more detail.
Travellers
of
all kinds, even taken as a homogenous group, are
undoubtedly a minority group, with estimates of
their numbers ranging from 82,000 to 350,000,
including those who now live in conventional
bricks-and-mortar housing (DCLG, 2007:7). This
immediately raises questions about the
definition of a Traveller, since it is clearly
not predicated on actually travelling.
Government guidelines offer the following
definition of Gypsies and Travellers:
Persons of
nomadic habit of life whatever their race or
origin, including such persons who on grounds
only of their own or their family’s or
dependants’ educational or health needs or old
age have ceased to travel temporarily or
permanently (ODPM, 2007:6)
Gypsies
and
Irish Travellers are recognized as distinct
ethnic groups under race-relations legislation
(DCLG, 2007:7), but do not represent the entire
range of Travelling Peoples. These may include
“New Travellers, Showmen, Gypsies, Tarmac and
Labouring gangs and itinerants squatting on
empty land or derelict buildings” (Earle et al,
1994:111).
It
is
perhaps more useful to consider what Levinson
and Sparkes (2004) refer to as the ‘nomadic
mindset’ whereby
Travelling
often remains integral to the Gypsy sense of
identity even when the amount of travelling
achieved seems to constitute little more than
‘holidays’ (2004:710).
That
this
mindset is also claimed by New Age Travellers
(see, for example, Lowe & Shaw,
1993:218-243) contradicts the widely held view
“that travelling was ‘in the blood’, the only
explanation for which is Gypsy ancestry”
(Levinson & Sparkes, 2004:711). Thus we can
move away from the racial categorizations which
cause troublesome distinctions between ‘real’
Travellers (Romany Gypsies, Irish Travellers)
and ‘deviants’ (New Age Travellers and others).
This
is
not the only distinction which has been
troublesome to Travellers of all kinds: a common
myth of the ‘rural’ and/or ‘real’ Gypsy is
explored by both Sibley (1981; 1995; 1999) and
Okely (1983). The rural stereotype is based on
romantic representations which owe more to
popular culture than to any kind of reality
(Sibley, 1999:137). In the popular imagination
Gypsies are seen as rural folk, living close to
nature in horse-drawn bow-top wagons, selling
pegs and other handicrafts, and they are always
distant in time and space. Gypsies, even those
living in rural locations, are unlikely to live
up to this stereotype and are thus seen as
deviant. When Gypsies are encountered in urban
settings they are then seen as ‘doubly deviant’
since, as Sibley (1981:19) states
To appear to
have abandoned a noble existence, in harmony with
nature, for one that conflicts with mainstream
conceptions of order and harmony, is an indication
of degeneracy.
In
this way, we begin to see how elements of ‘place’
are an integral part of these stereotypes (Sibley,
1995:102) and how this is problematic for Gypsies
in both rural and urban locations.
Unfortunately,
the
same distinction continues to be applied to other
Travellers so that, having dismantled the myth of
rural/real Gypsies, Sibley (1995:106-7) then goes
on to place New Age Travellers firmly in the
countryside. In fact, many studies connect New Age
Travellers with a desire for rural life
(Cresswell, 1996; Halfacree, 1996; Hetherington,
200; Rojek, 1988) and this assumption is as
problematic for New Age Travellers as it has been
for Gypsies (Okely, 1983; Sibley, 1981; 1995),
resulting in an ongoing distinction between ‘real’
New Age Travellers and “town-based squatters,
crusties and buskers” (Hetherington, 2000:70).
Okely
(1983) links the rural stereotyping of Gypsies
with the popular perception of an isolated,
self-sufficient and ‘traditional’ culture. In
fact, argues Okely (1983:30),
The Gypsies,
when first identified in Europe, and indeed their
equivalent anywhere else, have never been
self-sufficient. They are dependent on the larger
economy, within which they took possession of or
created their own niche. The Gypsies can only
survive as a group within the context of a larger
economy and society, within which they circulate
supplying occasional goods and services, and
exploiting geographical mobility and a
multiplicity of occupations.
Thus
Gypsies and other nomadic groups are inextricably
linked to urban locations as much as rural ones,
due to their economic relations with
industrialized society (Okely, 1983:30), and could
more accurately be described as ‘peripheral’ than
separate (Sibley, 1981:13).
Drawing
on Berger’s (1979) notion of ‘Cultures of Survival
/ Cultures of Progress’, Sibley (1981:13-4) links
the Gypsies to the “peasant or peripheral group
culture” whose concern is ‘survival’. Juxtaposed
to Cultures of Progress, which predominate in
modern society and are concerned with expansion,
peasant cultures have always had to survive at the
very edge, the “base frontier”, of the dominant
system (Berger, 1979:xii). For this reason they
have had to take care of themselves, developing
their own rules, customs, medicine and even
language. They represent, as Berger (1979:xii)
states, “a class apart” but not an independent
culture:
It would be
wrong to suppose that all this constituted an
independent culture, unaffected by the dominant
one and by its economic, social or technical
developments. Peasant life did not stay exactly
the same throughout the centuries, but the
priorities and values of the peasants (their
strategy for survival) were embedded in a
tradition which outlasted any tradition in the
rest of society. The undeclared relation of this
peasant tradition, at any given moment, to the
dominant class culture was often heretical and
subversive.
Sibley
(1981:14)
suggests that this is “equally applicable to
semi-nomadic cultures like Gypsies that maintain
their autonomy by adapting to the dominant
culture”.
New
Age Travellers may have some different customs and
cultural beliefs to the majority of Gypsies and
other Travellers (Earle et al,
1994:139-52), but have largely adopted the same
economic and spatial organization as ‘traditional’
Travellers. It is unclear, however, to what extent
New Age Travellers have opted for this way of
life. Kevin Hetherington (2000) clearly identifies
the Travellers as having chosen this way of life
(eg, 2000:6) yet this is misleading and his
account, whilst providing a thorough history
(2000:1-29), fails to adequately locate this
within the social context of Britain in the 1970s
and 80s. Ultimately, then, he presents a picture
of New Age Travellers which has been criticized by
Greg Martin (2002:724) as overly romantic and
voluntaristic.
In
contrast, Greg Martin (1998) suggests that whilst
some of the earlier New Age Travellers were people
who “gave up the relative security of their jobs
and their homes, and opted for what they believed
to be an existence that offered a better quality
of life” (1998:741), those who went on the road in
the mid to late 1980s were largely “economic
refugees” who were “forced to do so for want of
any reasonable alternative” (1998:745). Whatever
the motivation for taking to the road, Martin’s
(1998) examination of the social context also
highlights the irony of the situation. Many
Travellers felt that they had created a ‘solution’
to the social problems of inadequate housing and
unemployment and, in many ways, this was “entirely
consistent with the prevailing political ideology
of personal responsibility and enterprise”
(1998:749).
Society’s
response
to Travellers has always been disproportionate to
any actual threat which they pose (Okely, 1983:1)
and this is particularly true for New Age
Travellers. In 1985 these Travellers were subject
to a “paramilitary assault ... by the police”
(Johnson & Willers, 2004:17), which has gone
down in Traveller history as the ‘Battle of the
Beanfield’. The events of that day have been
chronicled elsewhere (see, for example,
Worthington, 2005) but it is interesting to note
that New Age Travellers were discursively
positioned as an ‘army’, complete with “leaders”
and “personnel carriers” (Police Radio Log,
01/06/85, reproduced in Worthington,
2005:109:138), with all the organization and level
of threat that this implies.
Aside
from this heightened sense of threat, New Age
Travellers have been largely subject to the same
kind of misrepresentations as Gypsies and other
Travellers, and there is no definitive explanation
for the fear they provoke. Whether the ‘threat’ is
analysed psychologically (Bauman, 1998a;
Hetherington, 2000; Sibley, 1995), politically
(Halfacree, 1996; Okely, 1983; Rojek, 1988) or
spatially (Cresswell, 1996, 2006; Sibley, 1999),
there is a consensus that it is based on
‘difference’. Travellers do not conform to
dominant notions of order and are thus seen as
‘disorderly’ and ‘out of place’. Furthermore, as
an autonomous group, they are misrepresented by
the mainstream media “seeking the familiarity of
spokespeople, manifestos and organizational
coherence” (Pickerill & Chatterton, 2006:731).
Sibley
(1981;
1999) clearly demonstrates the link between
Gypsies, who are represented as dirt and disorder,
and the fear that they will ‘pollute’ the spatial
organization of society (1999:144). Cresswell
(2006:17), citing James Scott [1989], links this
to the concept of
modernity which always involved the imposition
of spatial order onto chaotic nature, hence the
anxiety that mobile people provoke. Others have
gone further, suggesting that the presence of
the ‘other’ exposes fundamental deficiencies in
modern society (Halfacree, 1996:44; Okely,
1983:2) so that, as Hetherington (2000:18)
states, “it is not that the stranger brings
disorder but that he or she reveals order to
always be a process rather than a thing”. These
fears become myths in the popular imagination:
Gypsies and Travellers are soap-dodgers; they
are idle and work-shy; they have no respect for
private property (for refutation of these myths
see Davis et
al,1994, and Webster & Millar, 2001).
Whipped
up
by the media, these fears become a moral panic
resulting in legislation designed to deal with
the deviant group (Cohen, 1980). Chris Rojek
(1988:28-29) argues that the concept of moral
panics cannot be applied to New Age Travellers
because of its “annual regularity”, but I would
argue that this ‘annual regularity’ only
represented a seasonal high-pitch to the
societal reaction. Rojek was writing in 1988 and
can thus be forgiven for not seeing the bigger
picture: legislation, which effectively outlawed
the Travellers’ way of life (Martin, 2002:724),
was finally introduced in 1994.
The
Criminal
Justice and Public Order Act 1994 had massive
implications for Travellers of all kinds. It
effectively outlawed a nomadic way of life by
removing the statutory duty on Councils to
provide legal sites and criminalizing trespass
on private land (Clements & Campbell, 1997).
Much of the available literature is based on
studies undertaken at the time of the Act, when
media attention was firmly focussed on New Age
Travellers and concern over the implications for
all Travellers was high. Since this time very
little has been written about Travellers, about
the ways they have adapted and survived, and the
‘problem’ seems to have disappeared. Having
reintroduced the statutory duty on Councils to
provide sites via the 2004 Housing Act, the
Government made grants available to cover the
costs of site provision (DCLG, 11/12/07), and an
old moral panic has reignited wherever a
Travellers site is proposed (Guardian,
18/12/08). It is time to look again at these
folk devils who simply refuse to disappear.
“Not
unlike other ethnographers, so-called natives
can be insightful, sociologically correct,
axe-grinding, self interested, or mistaken”
(Rosaldo,
1989,
cited by Motzafi-Haller, 1997)
As an ex-Traveller
myself, an ethnographic methodology was an
obvious choice but that is not to say an
unproblematic one. Sibley (1981) and Okely
(1983) have both demonstrated the value of the
kind of ‘insider’ accounts which ethnography can
produce. They draw our attention to a different
point of view, a different way of understanding
the everyday lives and worldviews of both the
marginal group and the dominant society. This,
too, was my aim but the methodological
challenges were very different. For whilst Okely
grappled with the challenges of “entering Gypsy
society” (1983:40), my own difficulties arose
from the necessity of avoiding “the comfortable
sense of being ‘at home’” (Hammersley &
Atkinson, 1995:115).
The kind of
auto-ethnography I have aspired to may be
defined as “a text which blends ethnography and
autobiography ... [it] entails the incorporation
of one’s own life experience when writing about
others” (Reed-Danahay, 1997:6). It was, as
already stated, an obvious choice and this is
neatly summed up by Rachel Saltmarsh
(2001:147-8):
How could I not write my
culture autobiographically? ... For me it would
be a denial - a denial of self, a denial of past
experience. For me it would be a lie.
Autobiography is a way for me to share my
knowledge of my culture. Through snatches of
autobiography I can share its richness, its
pain, its pleasures and its everydayness.
What must, of course,
be avoided is the research resulting in simple
description (Davies, 1999:194) which would, as
Hammersley and Atkinson (1995:115) point out,
“be an interesting and valuable document, but
not an ethnographic study”. Despite one old
friend/participant’s assertion that I didn’t
need to ‘research’ site life since I knew all
about it already, the ten years which have
passed since I lived on the road meant that I
did not feel this to be the case, in the here
and now.
In this sense, I felt
myself to be both insider and outsider:
certainly
I did not have much to learn about the everyday
activities and conventions - removing my shoes
at the door, filling the water butts, keeping
the burner going - but I knew nothing about what
had led to these travellers wanting to settle
and welcoming the chance to live on an official
site. And whilst I could place myself in their
shoes fairly easily and reflect on whether I too
would have made the same choices, I could never
be certain in my conclusions because, for me,
there is a whole chunk of history missing.
My difficulties with
the concept of insider/outsider did not end
there, and this is hardly surprising since it is
such a contested concept in social research.
Citing Styles [1979], Hammersly and Atkinson
(1995:109) state that
Insider and outsider myths are
not empirical generalizations about the
relationship between the researcher’s social
position and the character of the research
findings. They are elements in a moral rhetoric
that claims exclusive research legitimacy for a
particular group.
Writing an
auto-ethnography was not, for me, about taking a
position on this ‘moral rhetoric’, but rather an
attempt to foreground my own ‘situated
knowledge’, in recognition that all
knowledge is situated, and ultimately to
“produce more modest, embodied, partial,
locatable and convincing arguments” (Cook et al,
2005:16). As such, I do not lay claim to any
kind of ‘truth’ as a result of my (partial)
insider account and this is exactly why my
autobiography must be declared.
Another aspect of the
insider/outsider concept is the recognition of
the interests which drive research projects from
the outset. My own experience of travelling
provided the impetus to research this topic but,
further to that, there is a sense, as
Motzafi-Haller (1997:216) suggests, that “an
experience of social and political exclusion is
likely to shape more critical thinking and
writing about such experiences in the
collective, structural domain”. Certainly there
is a concern to address what I see as oppression
and, as such, I tend to agree with Habermas’
(1971, cited by Davies, 1999:61) notion of
critical theory as the only valid form of social
enquiry, produced “through engagement with
struggles against oppression” (Davies, 1999:61).
The oppression of
groups such as Gypsies and Travellers is
undeniably structural: one need only consider
the legislation enacted against such groups from
as early as the 16th Century (Okely,
1983:1), as well as the social and spatial
exclusion which is so often imposed upon them
(Sibley, 1981). Gypsies and Travellers have,
however, shown remarkable persistence in
maintaining their way of life (Sibley, 1986),
demonstrating a degree of agency within these
oppressive structures. Ontologically, then, I
would align myself with a ‘critical realist’
approach (Graham, 1997:17), viewing the
Travellers as being constrained by legal,
cultural and ideological structures but
nonetheless being able to resist and negotiate
their existence within these structures.
Furthermore, they can be seen to have changed at
least some of these structures both through
their persistence in maintaining their way of
life and through collective action.
Ethnographic methods
have allowed me to focus on the Travellers’
everyday resistance and negotiation. Primarily,
this involved participant observation, a focus
group and individual interviews. My case study
focuses on a group of Travellers in the East
Midlands whose unauthorized site, which they
have occupied for eight years, is now being made
into an official site complete with amenity
blocks and hard-standing. At the time of my
study, construction work was well underway but I
had little knowledge of the plans, either in
terms of physical layout or who would eventually
be living there and why.
Ultimately, my
interest was to reveal how, on a day to day
level, the Travellers live out their choice /
acceptance / resignation to their current
situation. However, given my ontological and
epistemological position regarding the interplay
between structure and agency, this required an
understanding of three levels of history and
geography. That is to say, I sought to
understand the personal history and geography of
individual Travellers, set against my own
knowledge and experience of New Age Traveller
history and culture, as well as the history and
geography of this specific site.
Living on site with
the Travellers for a two week period allowed me
to observe their day to day lives, but required
a degree of preparation. The main ethical
considerations included informed consent,
confidentiality and anonymity issues, and
recognition of my role as researcher and the
effects that the research could have on myself,
on participants and on Travellers as a group.
Despite referring to
Travellers as a ‘marginalized group’ I do not,
in practice, consider them ‘vulnerable’ or
‘deprived’ as such. Greg Martin’s (1998) study
highlights the ways that Travellers are
empowered by the DIY aspect of their culture,
and this is borne out in my own experiences.
Echoing this, in a more general sense, Hurley
(2007:161) argues that assumptions of
marginality fail to take account of the “social
capabilities which are also part of experiences
of marginality”. By ‘marginalized’ then, I refer
primarily to their social and spatial distance
from the dominant culture and to their minority
status, both of which result in their voices not
being heard. As such, my research aims to
address this aspect of marginality by
researching ‘with’, not ‘on’, the Travellers
(Pitts & Smith, 2007:10) and engaging with
their own understanding of their situation.
Whilst I do not see
Travellers as ‘powerless’, it was nonetheless
important to recognize the inevitable power
differentials in my role as researcher. Marching
onto site and demanding answers as to why they
had decided to settle could have provoked
unwanted, and unwarranted, soul-searching as to
the compromises they had needed to make, and
thus a great deal of sensitivity was required in
my approach. Continual critical reflexivity was
necessary in order to diminish, as far as
possible, any risk of psychological harm to my
participants.
I also needed to seek
informed consent and I began this process by
sending a letter to all the site occupants, as
well as other travellers living nearby whom I
may wish to observe and/or interview (see
appendix 1). Informed consent is often
problematic in ethnographic studies because the
focus can change throughout the research
(Hammersley & Atkinson, 1995:265), and it
was helpful to consider it as a process, as
something which needed to be discussed and
checked throughout the field work (Davies,
1999:48). In the event, my focus remained much
the same, though some of my theoretical
assumptions had to change, and the Travellers
were interested in what I was doing, keen to
discuss my ideas and ask questions. This allowed
me to reiterate my research aims and check that
participants were happy to continue in an
informal and natural way.
I was not overly
concerned about potential risks to myself but
needed to consider and be aware of these
nonetheless. Aside from the difficulties of
negotiating my insider/outsider position, there
is, with all ethnographic research, some risk of
‘going native’. This, as Hammersley and Atkinson
(1995:110) explain, can arise when “the task of
analysis [is] abandoned in favour of the joys of
participation, but even where it is retained
bias may arise from ‘over-rapport’”. This latter
was the greatest danger for me, referred to
earlier as feeling overly ‘at home’, and the
stresses and strains of maintaining the
necessary distance meant that I felt tired and
somewhat unwell throughout my field work.
I also had to
consider legal risks: in many ways, the
lifestyle itself is only semi-legal and the
potential to be in the ‘wrong place at the wrong
time’ is ever present[1]. However, given that
this site has been established for many years,
and is in the process of becoming an official
site, the chances of eviction or other major
legal problems were extremely small, if not
non-existent. In fact, legal risks were of a
more personal nature - for example, giving
someone a lift who may be in possession of
cannabis or travelling in a car which did not
have an MOT - and this required awareness and
vigilance on my behalf.
Having considered the
risks and prepared the ground for informed
consent, I was on my way to carry out my field
work. I had originally been offered the use of a
spare caravan but my hosts had decided that,
having only a gas heater installed, it would not
be warm or comfortable enough in the cold snap
they were experiencing in mid-December. I was
thus given a space within the two static
caravans which had been joined together to make
the family home. This space was a small room,
about ten foot square, which was lined with book
shelves and housed the family’s computer, and a
blanket had been placed across the doorway to
afford me some privacy.
I wanted to begin
with a focus group in an effort to draw some
themes from the Travellers themselves. In this
way I hoped to reduce ‘researcher control’ and
“enable focus group participants to follow their
own agendas, and to develop the themes most
important to them” (Wilkinson, 2004:181). After
some procrastination, based on fears which I was
relieved to find were common to ethnographic
researchers (see Wintrob, 1969, cited in
Hammersley & Atkinson, 1995:114), I went
ahead with the focus group on my third evening.
I had managed to gather four of the people who
lived on the site and a local man who was
visiting his girlfriend on site and lived in a
caravan on some nearby farmland. Despite feeling
that I hadn’t facilitated the discussion very
well, the focus group provided some excellent
themes and subsequently proved to be the
cornerstone of my data analysis.
As I continued to
engage with daily life on the site, I was able
then to begin some individual interviews. I
wanted, of course, to interview people who lived
on the site but also other Travellers who lived
nearby, either on other sites or in houses. In
some cases I was able to pre-arrange an
interview, but other interviews were necessarily
carried out ‘on the hop’ as it were. This meant
that on one occasion I interviewed a Traveller
in a cafe and did not even have my recorder with
me, and at other times it was only possible to
pin someone down on the spur of the moment and
conduct the interview amidst whatever else was
going on.
Certainly it was
challenging at times - conducting an interview
whilst looking after the baby for example - but
it made for a natural-feeling discussion. Aside
from the awkwardness of turning the recorder on,
the interviews were very similar to the kind of
discussions we often had on site and sometimes
it was difficult not to butt in too much with my
own stories and experiences. Interviews were
unstructured, allowing participants to talk
about what seemed important to them with minimal
prompting from me.
In total I conducted
seven individual interviews, ranging from ten to
forty-five minutes. Aside from the focus group,
only two of these interviews were with people
who currently live on the site, three were with
people who were waiting to move onto the site
when construction was complete, and the other
two were with people who lived nearby but were
not moving onto the site - one couple in a house
and another on a different site. Although I had
planned to interview more of the people
currently living at the site, it was
surprisingly difficult to pin people down,
though this may have been easier in the summer
months when there is less work to do and life is
lived outdoors much more. It had, however, also
been my intention to interview those not living
on the site as I was keen to gain a variety of
perspectives. All my interviewees were familiar
with the site and its history, and most had
lived there at some point.
Most of the
difficulties I encountered in my field work were
connected to my own internal struggles with my
role as researcher. I was fortunate to conduct
my fieldwork amongst a group of people who were
interested in my research and were often
supportive and encouraging in lots of different
ways.
[1]
I did, in fact, get pulled over by the police
on one occasion and had the distinct
impression that they knew exactly where I was
staying and were checking out my details for
this reason!
Boredom
is the psychological corollary of other
stratifying factors specific to the consumer
society:freedom
and amplitude of choice, freedom of mobility,
ability to cancel space and structure time.
Common remedies against boredom are not
accessible to those in poverty, while all
unusual, irregular, or innovative
counter-measures are bound to be classified as
illegitimate and bring upon their users the
punitive powers of the defenders of law and
order.
(Bauman, 1998b:39)
When I first came
upon these words by Zygmunt Bauman they struck a
chord for me in relation to New Age Travellers.
The great ‘gifts’ of consumer society - “freedom
and amplitude of choice, freedom of mobility” -
are gifts available only to those with the
financial resources, with the “ability and
willingness” to play the role of consumer
(1998b:24). Travellers, like the poor in
general, did not have this ability (despite the
myth that they are all middle class drop-outs)
but differed from the masses in that they also
did not have the willingness. They sought
freedom but, having neither the ability nor
willingness to buy it, their “unusual, irregular
or innovative counter-measures” saw them take to
the road in coaches, caravans and trucks,
bringing upon themselves “the punitive powers of
the defenders of law and order”.
Some sweeping
generalizations, perhaps, but a fair
‘in-a-nutshell’ representation of the Traveller
scene which would be corroborated by any account
of their history and lives (see, for example,
Dearling & Gubby, 1998; Earle et al,
1994; Lowe & Shaw, 1993). Nearly forty years
on and having felt, like other nomadic people
before them, the full weight of the law, what
now remains of the Traveller scene? My case
study centres on a site in the East Midlands. It
is not necessarily representative of all
surviving sites and Travellers, but it raises
some interesting questions. This little scrap of
land, an old Gypsy site which had stood derelict
for many years, has been home to some of these
Travellers for the last eight years. In 2007 the
local Council applied for Government funding to
develop this as an official site, providing
plots for eight families, with amenity blocks
and mains electric, in exchange for a small
(though as yet undisclosed) amount of rent.
How had this come
about and, more importantly, how did the
Travellers feel about and enact their lives in
relation to these changes? I had expected to
find a degree of anger or bitterness, a sense
that the Travellers had been deprived of the
central tenet of their lifestyle and culture,
but this did not seem to be the case. There was
no denial of the impact of 1990s legislation :
Dom: It has
become harder and harder and harder - big time
since the Criminal Justice Bill [sic] - so it has
become much harder and we’ve stuck it out, stuck
it out, until it’s just become preferable to
settle really.
It
is telling, however, that the Criminal Justice Act
was mentioned on only one other occasion and that
other factors were more often cited.
The
ability to find and maintain work is one such
factor, with the diminishing availability of
agricultural work presenting difficulties for
sustaining a mobile lifestyle:
Sean: There
were a lot more like, y’know, nomadic workers
wasn’t there, a lot of people who might go fruit
picking in the summer, they might go off in the
winter to, er, Spain or somewhere and pick oranges
or whatever, whereas now, because things are
becoming more automated, the options are far less.
The
increasingly
Fordist organization of agricultural work has had
a knock-on effect, not just on the Travellers’
economy but also on their ability to find
park-ups:
Jay: There
used to be loads of farms you could go to. If you
were lucky you’d get a winter park-up on a farm
... I mean when I first went on the road I used to
work all round Hereford and Worcester, and then
ten years later all around Kent and all that,
Somerset, but then it just got less and less
places.
The
Travellers
found other work, but it was often less conducive
to a mobile lifestyle and to some extent it was
this which precipitated a need to settle.
In
many ways this demonstrates Okely’s (1983)
argument that nomadic peoples have always had to
adapt to the prevailing economic conditions of the
dominant culture because “they can only survive in
the context of a larger economy and society”
(1983:30). This interdependence with the wider
society is also highlighted by Sibley (1981), with
reference to Berger’s (1979) Cultures of
Progress/Cultures of Survival, which sees this
kind of adaptation as a strategy “to ensure
cultural survival” (1981:13). A history of
adaptation and continuity can perhaps explain
their level of acceptance towards settling:
Stu: I
don’t know, things change don’t they, I suppose
Jay: Yeah, I
think it’s just evolved into a different thing
After
all, if adaptation is, and always has been,
necessary for cultural survival, then the only
logical response is acceptance.
Another
factor
in relation to the Travellers’ decision to settle,
is the importance placed on the education of their
children:
Charlie: It’s
mainly for the kids sake, d’you know what I mean,
so that you can send them to school
Jay: But
that’s it now, I mean most people, it is because
the kids are at school and they want their kids to
be in school ...
...
Nick: See, a
lot of people that were moving from site to site
around the country, having trouble with their kids
in school, trying to maintain a decent education
for their children and, kind of, we didn’t want
that with ours
...
Kate: [With my
eldest child], I moved about all the time, and his
education’s beggared, really, because of it
In
this respect there is a greater element of choice
as opposed to an acceptance of intended or
unintended consequences of changes in the dominant
culture. Education was an oft-cited reason for
settling which, rather uncharitably, I did not
take too seriously to begin with. However, I
quickly observed a level of commitment and
engagement with their children which was striking,
and which demonstrates the value placed not just
on children but on family in general.
Other
factors
for settling included the convenience of having a
base, if only to be able to come and go freely;
the need to have an address in order to continue
living on the periphery of the dominant culture;
and the desire for a better quality of life than
that which is possible under constant threat of
eviction. The fact that settling is as much about
choice and adaptation as it is about
legally-enforced constraints, calls into question
whether ‘travelling’ was really such a central
tenet of their lifestyle or whether, in fact, this
was just one strategy of resistance in the
creation of an autonomous community. This may seem
like a very bold statement but there is no doubt
that my data points towards the notion that other
aspects of their culture and lifestyle are (or
have become) of prime importance.
An
overriding theme amongst all those who were
interviewed - whether living on site or not - was
the sense of community engendered by site life.
The concept of community is a contested one and
may be based on geographic location or social
networks (Wilson-Doenges, 2000:598). For the
Travellers it is both, and their comments may be
broadly grouped into a desire to maintain a
different spatial organization and a highly valued
sense of living with like-minded people who can be
relied upon and trusted.
The
‘social network’ sense of community has always
been an important feature of the travelling scene:
Nick: If
somebody said they were from site then that was
it, you automatically had a bond, or you felt
there was a bond there that was stronger than a
lot of other, certainly more than most other
casual acquaintances ... I remember running out of
petrol on the way to a festival in convoy and
someone I didn’t know just came along and gave us
a can of petrol ... there’s a lot more of that
kind of camaraderie.
That
Nick and his partner so readily invited me - an
unknown, fellow traveller - into their home is
testament to this automatic bond as, indeed, is my
ease of access to do this research in the first
place: I had been informed that other,
non-traveller researchers had been turned away in
the past with some choice words!
The
bond continues, then, whether one lives on site or
not, but the geographic community of the site
means that this bond is lived out on a different
scale, as the following discussion highlights:
Dom: [We]
still live communally to a degree
Jay: And still
outside
Charlie: Still
got babysitters (laughter)
Dom: Yeah,
people with vans next door to go wooding
Charlie: Yeah,
that’s it
Ruth: Yeah, I
liked it when Toni called Jay at the supermarket
the other day to get Dom some gak, I just thought
‘yeah, I never call my neighbours ...’ (laughter)
Dom: Yeah,
right
Ruth: ... I
did call a friend of mine the other week cos I was
like, I had my dressing gown on, I’d had a bath,
and I wanted some fags and I knew that she was
out. But it felt like a really odd thing to do
Charlie: No,
no - “I need potatoes” or “I’m getting a bag of
carrots, d’you want half of ‘em?” ... (laughter)
Dom: We do
tend to live in each others’ pockets but it is
actually quite handy
Jay: But I
mean, that part of it just naturally, you just
normally do. I wouldn’t think twice ...
Of
course, this kind of communal living can have its
downsides and there were fears that, exacerbated
by the lack of mobility, this closeness and
familiarity could, as the old adage goes, breed
contempt.
Nonetheless,
there
was a clear sense of social community which was
highly valued and, further, a sense that this was
fostered by the kind of communal living which is
encouraged by the geographic community of a site.
Whilst some of the Travellers I interviewed were
happily settled in houses, most agreed that there
were some distinct advantages to living on site.
The increased cost of living in a house, one of
the major down-sides cited by those who had taken
this option, was something the site-dwellers were
keen to avoid. Aside from being seen as cheaper
and perhaps more ecological, a simple preference
for ‘mobile homes’ and for sites was often
expressed:
Jay: Towns and
streets and that always seem really enclosed to
me, and I’ll never be in a position to have a
house in the middle of a field, in the middle of
some acreage, d’you know what I mean? I just feel
comfortable in trailers and trucks, I think. I
certainly don’t feel comfortable in houses in
towns or, y’know, when you’ve got a house next
door - I know you have vans and trucks next door
to ya, but it’s just ... when you’re in a street
and that, it’s just the whole place seems to hum
[with electricity] ... there just always seems to
be something on.
What
is most telling in Jay’s statement is that he is
not necessarily against living in a house per se,
but that he would not be able to live in a house
under conditions which would be acceptable to him.
This is echoed by several other Travellers and
relates closely to the geographical community of
site:
Sean: We feel
that [site]’s a much safer environment than living
in a house surrounded by people that you don’t
necessarily get on with, or don’t agree with in
many respects.
The
lack of choice in bricks-and-mortar accommodation
is not just imagined, but is a reality that has
been experienced by several of the Travellers.
Sean’s family had previously been placed in
Council accommodation, but left because it was
“mouldy and horrible and the kids got sick
straight away”. Kate and Jackie, who have six
children between them, born and raised on the
road, asked the council to provide a site for them
when they were threatened with eviction from their
current, unauthorised site. They were offered
flats instead:
Jackie: We
refused the flats and said no because otherwise
we’d’ve had to get rid of all pets and, y’know,
that wasn’t the kind of situation we wanted. We
wanted to stay on site, as a group and y’know,
basically I got offered a flat in [one village]
and Kate got offered a flat in [a village several
miles away].
By
remaining on site, by fighting for this right over
and above the ‘right to roam’, these Travellers
have created a kind of ‘gated community’ - that
is, in terms of “a lifestyle choice rather than
fear” (Sanchez et al,
2005:282) - or what could be termed an ‘autonomous
geography’ (Pickerill & Chatterton, 2006).
This concept is used by Pickerill and Chatterton
(2006) to discuss ‘alter-globalization movements’
and refers to “spaces where there is a desire to
constitute non-capitalist, collective forms of
politics, identity and citizenship” (2006:730).
Whilst I am not suggesting that Travellers
constitute a political movement as such, it is
clear from Pickerill and Chatterton’s writing that
the “thousands of capable and workable examples
[which] exist” (2006:731) also includes the DIY
ethos of “free parties and the rave scene,
squatting” and the “tactics of ... nomadism”
(2006:738).
Travellers
do
not have an “explicit autonomy agenda” (Pickerill
& Chatterton, 2006:734) but nonetheless share
many of the same values as the groups discussed,
such as
Personal
freedom, a mistrust of power and a rejection of
hierarchy, and the advocacy of self-management,
decentralized and voluntary organization, direct
action and radical change (2006:734)
Sean
touches on some of these issues when he talks
about his decision to continue living on site:
Sean:
Accommodation is like so expensive and there are
so many things that you don’t really need ... it’s
an absolute extortion ... an extra tax on the
poorest part of society. Y’know, I’ve learned over
the years how to live very cheap and, er, very
ecological ... houses just don’t do it for me in
that respect. They’re not ecological, you end up
having a huge burden, y’know, a huge financial
burden and, if you’re renting, you’ve always got
the threat of being thrown out.
Travellers
sought
their own solutions to social problems and there
has always been a sense of indignation that their
initiative and efforts have been criminalized
(Martin, 1998:748). That the Council are going to
lease this site to the Travellers, to run as a
co-operative venture rather than being
warden-controlled, is an exciting, and perhaps
unique, instance of the Council’s sensitivity to
these beliefs and values.
Autonomous
geographies
are more than just a set of shared values,
however, and there are several other aspects of
site life which tally closely with Pickerill and
Chatterton’s (2006) concept. Throughout my
observations and interviews, the Travellers made
constant references to other sites and Travellers,
and this highlights the way that autonomous
geographies “are not discrete localities, but
networked and connected spaces ... where
extra-local connections are vital social building
blocks” (2006:736). These connections have always
been an important factor of site life and, even in
the days before mobile phones were widespread, it
was astonishing how quickly word could travel:
when my daughter was born in 1991, I was amazed
that far-flung friends had heard the news within
hours!
Shared
history
and story-telling is also important, and
represents something more than just nostalgia:
Collecting,
preserving and talking about collective memories
of previous struggles across times and spaces is
the lifeblood of autonomy, providing sociospatial
reference points for projecting autonomous visions
into the present and future (Pickerill &
Chatterton, 2006:735)
This
can be seen in the way that Travellers, on first
meeting, will often run through people that they
know, sites they’ve lived on and festivals they’ve
been to, until they find some common ground. More
importantly, perhaps, are the tales of past
exploits:
Stu: Late
eighties, early nineties, mid nineties, that was
the best wa’n’t it, I liked it then. You know,
just as mobile phones started working, we used
mobile phones to their advantage, like for the
festivals and all that (laughs), just caught the
authorities on the hop didn’t it
Ruth: Yeah,
but I guess it probably couldn’t’ve gone on could
it, in a way ...
Stu: No, that
couldn’t’ve gone on, no way, no way ...
Ruth: ... it
got so big
Stu: Did you
go up to Letham?
Ruth: No, no I
was never there
Stu: That was
pretty good! That won’t happen again, we got
chased right out of Scotland ...
Autonomous
geographies
are in a constant state of creation and the
tradition of oral history informs and shapes the
present and future.
I
do not mean to suggest that life on site - this
site or any other - is some kind of perfect
utopia. Far from it! There will always be issues
to face such as “machismo, limited life-spans,
disengagement from local communities, illegality,
and ghetto and political lifestyles” (Pickerill
& Chatterton, 2006:743), as Sean highlights
when he speaks about his experiences on returning
to the UK four years ago:
Sean: It was
quite a shock really to find out there were so
many divisions of travellers ... totally hostile
to you because, we’re vegetarian, for example and,
er, we met in India, so we’re quite into the
Indian culture as well and, er - y’know, not
really the religion, as it is, but, um, certainly
a lot of the ideas. We found a lot of people being
hostile to us because of that, because of being
vegetarian, because of, er, not being into, er,
the same kind of scene as them.
Nonetheless,
there
is much here to be celebrated and I find I cannot
agree with Berger’s (1979:xi) pessimism about the
survival of this ‘peasant culture’. It remains to
be seen how the Travellers will ‘manage’ their
site once construction is completed and it is
officially leased to them, but there is every
reason to hope that they will continue to adapt,
to ensure their cultural survival at the periphery
of the dominant culture, and continue to find a
ways to live which are beyond (and yet within) the
capitalist system:
Pete: There’s
always people that are sitting in houses, narrow
minded, they don’t wanna know anything else ...
can’t communicate, don’t know the neighbours,
don’t know anything ...
Charlie: Just
assume ...
Pete: Lock
themselves away in their little boxes ...
Dom: There’s a
lot of that for sure
Pete: Whereas
we’re nonconformists
Jay: “Bloody
anarchists, that’s what they are ... blowing stuff
up” (laughter)
Toni: Yeah,
anarchists in their ‘03 Mondeos! (laughter)
The research
presented here is based on a case study of ‘New
Age’ Travellers living in the East Midlands area
of the UK. It addresses a shortfall in the
academic literature by looking at what has
become of these Travellers since the
introduction of the Criminal Justice and Public
Order Act in 1994. Much was written at this time
concerning the possible implications of the Act
as it affected Travellers of all kinds, amid
general recognition that it would effectively
outlaw a nomadic way of life. Despite the
apparent ‘disappearance’ from the public and
academic conscience, Traveller groups continue
to live out a semi-nomadic existence on the
periphery of the dominant culture.
My concern has been
to discover how Travellers have adapted to
legislative and other changes and how, and in
what form, they have been able to retain their
way of life. Despite many similarities between
different ‘groupings’ of Travellers - Gypsies,
Irish Travellers, Showmen, etc - it has been
necessary to focus on one group. The media label
‘New Age’ Travellers has served as convenient
shorthand to differentiate a particular group
that emerged in the 1970s with their own
distinct (counter) culture. That this culture is
at odds with the dominant culture is not unique
to these Travellers, since all Travellers share
a very different spatial and social
organization, but it is arguably more
politically motivated to some degree.
Mobility is
inherently political and, whether or not New Age
Travellers were making a political statement
through their mobility, this can clearly be seen
in the legislation which has seriously curtailed
the Travellers’ mobility. In light of this, my
ontological approach is one of ‘critical
realism’ whereby the Travellers are seen to be
negotiating their existence within the
constraints of oppressive structures. Thus,
their ‘resistance’ is not necessarily an
explicitly political act, or collection of acts,
but rather the result of coming into conflict
with these structures as they attempt to live
out their lives on a daily basis.
The day to day
negotiation of their lives was what I set out to
uncover through ethnographic methods of
participant observation and unstructured
interviews. As an ex-Traveller, I ran the risk
of producing an overly favourable, biased
account but have attempted to combat this by
foregrounding my own biography in the form of an
auto-ethnography. In this way I have been able
to make explicit, as well as make use of, a
‘situated knowledge’ which is common to all
researchers to some degree, but is often
obscured in the results of social research.
Whether my
familiarity with the culture, and with many of
the Travellers, actually facilitated or hindered
the fieldwork is a moot point but, if nothing
else, it granted me access to a group of
Travellers on a level which could have taken
months to achieve as a complete outsider. At the
same time, I did not consider myself to be a
complete insider either and I make no claims
towards any authentic ‘truth’ as a result of my
(partial) insider status. Equally, as a case
study of one particular group at one particular
time, my research is not necessarily
generalizable to all Travellers. That said, I
have been able to draw some theoretical concepts
from my data which may be usefully applicable to
other Travellers and which represents, at the
very least, another small piece of a complex
puzzle.
The most surprising
finding from my data is the suggestion that
mobility is not necessarily the defining feature
of the Travellers’ culture. This may not always
have been the case and, equally, it has long
been recognized that an individual may still be
defined as ‘a Traveller’ even if they have
settled permanently. Nonetheless, I am
suggesting here that ‘mobility’ for New Age
Travellers was simply one strategy in the
creation of something larger: an ‘autonomous
geography’. In this way mobility represents a
means to an end, rather than the commonsense
assumption that it is an end in itself.
As the Travellers’
freedom of mobility has gradually been eroded,
they have been able to accept these changes and
continue to live their lives on their own terms.
The Travellers involved in this study do not
appear to be ‘bitter’ or ‘defeated’, on the
contrary they are positive and productive. They
have negotiated a new space for themselves in
which to enact their lives in opposition to the
dominant culture. As we have seen, this is not
an independent culture but one which can best be
described as peripheral. In many ways the
physical location of the site - neither urban
nor rural - is a physical manifestation of their
peripheral culture.
I had hoped to say
more about this physical location since the
urban/rural dichotomy has been widely discussed
in the literature. Before embarking on my
fieldwork I had hypothesized that the site’s
location - not only in terms of its urban/rural
position, but also the history and culture of
this particular (urban) area - would have been a
major factor in the Travellers’ success at
settling here. In the event, this was not
something which emerged in my data, particularly
as the research was ‘led’ by the Travellers
themselves, yet it remains a potentially
fruitful avenue of study.
What emerged instead
was a clear sense of the importance of community
to these Travellers, both in terms of the
geographical community of the site and the
social network of this site and others. Equally,
there was very much an element of preference for
the spatial organization of a site as opposed to
that of houses and streets. The Travellers did
not want to live under conventional arrangements
and were well aware that they would not be able
to live in a way that would be acceptable to
them if they did conform to convention. Living
in caravans and vehicles was the only way they
could avoid the confines of urban life and was
considered to be more economical and more
ecological.
All of these factors
pointed towards the importance of maintaining
site life over and above the importance of
mobility. This led me to the concept of
‘autonomous geographies’ - a term coined by
Jenny Pickerill and Paul Chatterton (2006) in
their discussion of ‘alter-globalization
movements’. Autonomous geographies describes the
spaces created by these groups in which to live
out a different social organization than that of
capitalism. That is to say, a non-hierarchical,
solidaristic and co-operative community which is
both place and praxis. The concept of autonomous
geographies provides a tool to consider these
alternative spaces as valid experiments in the
creation of “a more socially, environmentally
and ethically just future” (2006:743).
The Traveller’s
lifestyle is just such an ‘experiment’ and has
changed and adapted as necessary. Mobility
provided an opportunity to pursue an alternative
economic existence based on seasonal farm-work
and other temporary or mobile occupations.
Festivals provided further opportunities for
economic independence, acting as a marketplace
for skills and handicrafts which were bought,
bartered and exchanged. As festivals and
mobility became increasingly difficult, the
Travellers adopted different strategies for the
continuation of an autonomous existence. To
begin with this involved strategies of
‘invisibility’ or, at the very least, a lesser
obtrusiveness. However, with the criminalization
of the nomadic way of life, the Travellers have
opted to preserve the autonomous geographies of
site life through the principles of adaptation
and continuity.
Whilst proposals for
permanent sites continue to be vehemently
opposed, this tends to be localized and
provincial rather than the national public
outcry which preceded the 1994 Criminal Justice
and Public Order Act. This suggests that it was,
above all, the Travellers’ mobility which
instilled such fear in the sedentary population.
Furthermore it appears that it is the ‘unknown’
quality of nomadic groups - and the
misrepresentations which follow - that is so
fearful, since this and other permanent sites
have become more or less ‘accepted’ once they
are ‘known’.
An autonomous
geography will always threaten the established
order, since it challenges that order by its
very existence. However, it is possible for
Travellers to retain their autonomous and
peripheral lifestyle without the strategy of
mobility, and to thus live in greater harmony
with the settled population. If greater
tolerance could be shown to proposals for
permanent sites, it may be possible to learn
something from the Travellers’ experiment in
alternative living. Not least of this is the
Travellers’ economical solution to the current
housing crisis, which should be embraced rather
than condemned. Above all though, this research
has demonstrated the Travellers’ adaptation to
changes in the larger society, maintaining their
autonomous geographies and providing a workable
example to all who seek an existence beyond the
confines of the dominant, capitalist culture.
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