Ethics, Place and Environment, Vol. 7, No. 1–2, 45–57, March/June 2004 The Ties that Bind? Self- and Place-identity in Environmental Direct Action JON ANDERSON Original manuscript received, 25 October 2003 Revised manuscript received, 26 April 2004 ABSTRACT This paper explores what happens to the identity of self when entering a place of protest, and what happens to it on leaving. In short, it explores the relations between identities of self and place. Acknowledging the presence of a multiplicity of identities in relation to both notions, it examines the ways in which aspects of the self influence place, and conversely, how aspects of place influence the self. By using empirical examples from Environmental Direct Action, the paper follows Casey in arguing for the co-constitution of self- and place-identities. It offers two notions: the spatial division of self-identity, and the rhizomatic self, to further understanding of how the where effects whom we are. Introduction Question: ‘Isn’t environmental activism just something people do on weekends?’ ‘During my captivity I…was forced to confront the man I thought I was and to discover that I was many people. I had to befriend these many people, discover their origins, introduce them to each other and find a communality between them…‘myself’ could never again be an easily defined and well-summed thing’ (Keenan, 1992, XIII, p. 1). As Brian Keenan discovered during his enforced captivity in Beirut, location has the potential to influence not only practice, but also conceptualisations of the identity of self. In the language of social science Keenan (above) describes the reflexive process of forming a postmodern conception of identity (see Reed-Danahay, 1997, p. 2). Through being positioned in a place of forced enclosure, Keenan was compelled, to some degree at least, into assuming the identity of a hostage. As his 1992 book testifies, Keenan resists as far as possible the passive role of hostage. This dialogue between place and role facilitated a reflexive process where Keenan began to identify not a singular, Jon Anderson, Department of City and Regional Planning, Cardiff University, Glamorgan Building, King Edward VII Avenue, Cardiff CF10 3WA, UK. E-mail: andersonj@cardiff.ac.uk 1366-879X Print/1469-6703 On-line/04/010045-13 2004 Taylor & Francis Ltd DOI: 10.1080/1366879042000264769 46 Jon Anderson essential self, but a self constituted by a multiplicity of not necessarily coherent identities. This paper examines the ways in which place can influence self-identity, specifically the degree to which identities can be situated solely in particular locations. The paper will briefly introduce key notions and literatures associated with identities of self and place, and how these are co-joined often through practice. It will introduce the context through which the diagnostics of place- and self-identity will be traced: Environmental Direct Action, or EDA, and specifically, the site of Ashton Court, Bristol, UK, where the author spent a (year-)long ‘weekend’ as an activist. The paper goes on to explore the ways in which self-identities change when they enter spaces that have come to be known as ‘EDA sites’—from the perspective of those policing these zones, and from the standpoint of those being introduced to practical action in these spaces. The paper then comments on the associations between place- and self-identity that develop as a result. In doing so, it questions the degree to which identities of self that have come to be distinguished as ‘activist’ are taken into other, ‘normal’, civil society spaces, often discouraged by the ties, customs and cultural norms that codify and influence these liberal economic spaces. The paper then raises the notion of a ‘spatial division of identity’, where activist selves are expressed in activist spaces, and other aspects of self articulated through different practice in other spaces. From this thesis the paper develops the notion of the rhizomatic self. Me, Myself and I Drawing on the work of Jameson (1991), Featherstone (1995, p. 44) has noted that the concept of identity has become decentred, with the sense of a coherent, essentialised identity giving way to the notion of fragmented, malleable and often ‘multi-phrenic’ identities. This decentring of identity can be seen in relation to both identities of self and identities of place. In relation to the former, echoing Keenan, Maxey (1999, p. 199) argues that the postmodern condition results in there being ‘no fixed “me” of which I am fully cognisant’. Featherstone (1995, p. 45) concurs, stating that the way we understand identity has changed from ‘being something unified and consistent’, to something ‘conceived as a bundle of conflicting “quasi-selves”, a random and contingent assemblage of experiences’. Thus the postmodern conception self can be thought of as a notion that accepts that me, myself and I are not a unified, singular entity, rather a strategic and increasingly fractured one—or many, multiply constructed across intersecting, and often antagonistic, discourses and practices (after Hall, 1996, p. 4). Situated Places ‘If it is now recognised that people have multiple identities then the same point can be made in relation to places’ (Massey, 1993, p. 153). Similarly, as Massey (1993) suggests above, how we make sense of place is also changing. Identities of place can no longer simply be thought of as singular, coherent things, as entities enclosed, bordered and fixed, but rather as nodes within ongoing processes of cultural relations. Places can have multiple meanings attached to them due to the myriad of cultural interpretations giving meaning to people’s lives in place (after Rose, 1995, p. 99). But also, in the words of Massey (1993, p. 154), places can be thought of as ‘meeting places’, ‘imagined as articulated moments in networks of social relations and understandings’. As a consequence, place-identities become unbounded and ‘redesigned as… field[s] of infinitely experimental configurations of space–time’ The Ties that Bind? 47 (Emberley, 1989, pp. 755–756). Place is no longer limited to an essentialised identity but, like identities of self, comes to encompass a range of identities, often in conflict. Thus, as Massey (1993, p. 162) confirms, places can no longer be characterised by ‘recourse to some essential, internalised moment’. Postmodern understandings of identity therefore lead us to conceive of the self and place not as singular articles but rather as situated and positional entities/processes (following Harvey, 1996, p. 49). Indeed, the relation between these two entities/processes is an intriguing one. Living in a world where boundary crossing of all kinds is increasingly prevalent (see Reed-Danahay, 1997, p. 3), identity (be it of self or place) is becoming a ‘contact zone’, an arena in which ‘disparate [entities/processes] meet, clash, and grapple with each other’ (after Pratt, in Warren, 1997, p. 4). In such scenarios identities of self are inevitably influenced to differing degrees by identities of place. As Casey (2001, p. 688) observes, we can be ‘subject to place’, we can ‘alter ourselves…as a function of having been in a certain place’, and as de Botton (2002, p. 147) offers: ‘Our identities are to a greater or lesser extent malleable, we change according to whom—and sometimes what—we are with…move B to another environment and his [identity] will subtly shift in relation to a new interlocuter’. Concomitantly, identities of place are affected by those of self. As Massey (1995, p. 285) again points out, ‘we make our space/spatialities in the process of our various identities’, with Moore (1997, p. 88) concurring, arguing that places are not ‘fixed backdrops’, but ‘products of the…contestations’ between selves and place. We are concerned here therefore with the exploration of the relation between place- and self-identity, on focusing on how who you are is dependent on where you are. In Massey’s words (in Moore, 1997, p. 88) we are concerned with ‘joining the cultural politics of place to those of identity’. Geographers have attempted to trace this diagnostics of postmodern identity. Drawing on the autobiographical ‘I’, Routledge (1996) has, for example, been concerned with tracing his own interweaving of places and selves when crossing the spaces of ‘academia’ and ‘activism’. This concern has also been explored in my own academic/activist work in EDA (see Anderson, 2002). This diagnostic tracing is not, however, a straightforward one. As a number of feminist geographers have noted (see Bondi, 1997; Butler, 1990; Gibson-Graham, 1994; Rose, 1997) a key consideration in these relations is the role of performative practice. As Maxey (1999, p. 202) points out, it is through performative action that self-identity is articulated and fashioned: the shifting nature of self is ‘reproduced continuously through daily practice’. As a result, identity/ies for Hall (1996, p. 6) thus become ‘point[s] of temporary attachment to the subject positions which discursive practices construct for us’. In other words, our identities are continually (re)created by our performative acts in particular places; we suture (following Heath, 1981) ourselves to these subject positions through our practical acts. Identities in (Environmental Direct) Action To explore the diagnostics of self- and place-identity empirically the paper now turns to look at a key political practice that has risen in significance over recent years: Environmental Direct Action. EDA is an imbroglio of practices and premises that offers an ecocentric alternative to the liberal democratic system (see Anderson, 2004). Environmental Direct Activists take and make numerous physical, virtual and media spaces in order to confront, prevent and offer ecological alternatives to political decisions concerning a range of issues, including transport, food, house building, energy, militarism, 48 Jon Anderson democracy and the capitalist system itself (see Seel et al., 2000; SchNEWS, 2002). EDA not only offers ecological alternatives in terms of worldview but also in terms of creating temporary spaces (in the form of demonstrations, street parties, protest camps and gatherings) in which these alternatives can be experimented with and practised. EDA has grown in popularity and significance over the last decade (see Monbiot, 1998; Wall, 1999; Seel et al., 2000). However commentators such as North (1995) have suggested that this significance is due primarily to the transient support of mainstream society. North (1995, p. 29) asserts that the power of EDA ‘flows from the very temporary allegiance of “normal” people…who will return to normal life pretty quickly’. According to this perspective, EDA’s significance has been underpinned by its capacity to attract those who would not usually participate in direct action campaigns. Indeed, evidence for this perspective is abundant in the media reportage of EDA, focusing on the temporary support of ‘Middle England’ to its cause (see Leonard and Barwick, 1997; Behan, 1998). North’s (1995) suggestion does, however, highlight a key point in relation to the spaces of EDA that makes them important to the argument here. Inherent in this analysis is the temporary habitation of particular places of EDA by individuals who then often move back to spaces of ‘normal’ society. From experience and exploration of spaces of EDA (see Anderson, 2002) this movement from ‘EDA’ to ‘civil society’ spaces is common for the majority of those involved, regardless of degree. Those involved in EDA continually cross boundaries, be they of place- or self-identity, literally and metaphorically ‘meeting, clashing, and grappling’ with alternative positionings of politics, place and identity. The identities of EDA’s places and selves thus become intriguing contact zones where the diagnostics of postmodern identity can be usefully traced. Crucial to this tracing is an understanding of the contrasts between the different place- and self-identities that EDA and ‘normal’ or civil society can constitute: ‘Socially constructed spaces are all around us and often take highly visible and material forms. In that sense they are not invisible, but these spaces are the contexts within which we lead our lives. Quite literally they are the water referred to in the South Asian saying [“Fish don’t talk about the water”]. The very obviousness of these spaces gives them the illusion of nature, of just being. Spatialised power in the forms of norms, prohibitions and expectancies is thus especially powerful’ (Cresswell, 2000, p. 263). Critics such as Bauman (2000, p. 7) argue that many of what Cresswell terms ‘norms, prohibitions and expectancies’ are being ‘stripped of a good deal of [their] compelling, coercively constraining powers’ in the increasingly ‘liquid modernity’ of our times. Nevertheless, in ‘normal’ or civil society spaces, many of these structures remain effective in socialising individuals into the rules of the political game. Indeed, I would argue that ‘weak ties’ (to borrow Granovetter’s (1973) term) still connect people in and to these spaces of civil society, binding citizens with certain expectancies of behaviour. Regardless of their relative merits or visibility, these expectancies orbit around the forces of liberal economics, capitalist production/consumption and representative democracy. If/when citizens leave these civil society spaces and enter alternative zones, of EDA for example, these norms become increasingly apparent to them, simply by them now being surrounded by different structural mores. Indeed, places of EDA have been taken and made to contest the norms and expectancies of liberal democratic society. Through their political practice, Environmental Direct Activists suture their priorities of ecocentrism, personal responsibility for political action and the preservation of valued locales onto particular sites, contesting their meaning and nature directly. Thus through EDA practice, the identity of place becomes a grounded focus for political discontent; place-identity The Ties that Bind? 49 becomes both a metaphorical and material site of struggle. So, what happens to self-identity when multiple selves step into this contact zone? Ashton Court as Contact Zone Winter is changing into spring. At Ashton Court, Bristol, 30 acres (121,406 square metres) of wildflower meadow are being threatened by plans for a limestone quarry. A decade-long campaign to save the meadow evolves into a protest bearing all the characteristics of EDA. These events suture the tag ‘EDA’ to Ashton Court. As a result, when entering this space, one’s self-identity morphs immediately into that of ‘protester’, ‘activist’ or, in terms of new UK legislation, ‘terrorist’, at least for those monitoring this contact zone for the security forces: ‘We ate food on the meadow today…security filmed the incident throughout. At one stage, Ben [individual’s names are pseudonyms] got up and shouted at them: “We’re just members of the public having a picnic, why are you filming us?!” ’ (author’s field diary). As the above example from Ashton Court depicts, from the security forces’ perspective simply being present within a contested site sutures to that individual and that practice the tag of ‘activist’, even if that individual is simply having a picnic. This tagging emanates from a very modern conception of identity, with individuals and practices not considered in any other terms apart from those associated with that politicised place. Dichotomously, if you are not there to uphold hegemonic norms and expectancies, you must be there to contest them. This ‘deviant’ tagging became lived experienced at Ashton Court, as my field diary recounts: ‘the incidents earlier reminded me that by just being involved here [in this space of EDA] we are seen to be breaking the law, therefore it is in essence a political way to live...reminds of that lady at the M11 who said, “all life is politics, if you step out of line” ’ (author’s field diary). Thus for those directly associated with policing places of EDA, those individuals who ‘cross the line’ into these sites, in whatever capacity, become essentialised ‘others’— their identity reduced to that of ‘protester’. This tagging mixes with other processes that affect the self-identities of those stepping into places of EDA: ‘Marie speaks of her apprehension when she first came up here; she felt as if she wouldn’t belong etc;…She wouldn’t have come in if it wasn’t for the “free tea” poster—a sort of non-committal stepping into this EDA-place. (I say I didn’t even get that far first time). But then, after only half an hour or so, she said she could sense the “community” feel of it [her words], she felt as if she was with like-minded people’ (author’s field diary). ‘Marie came again today, she said she feels connected to the camp. Marie changing from visitor to regular—it’s odd watching the change in someone else, how [this space] becomes the central thing in your life, esp. after it’s happened to you’ (author’s field diary). Location in a place of EDA involves living under different norms and expectancies to those of civil society. These norms influence self-identity in a number of ways. On one level, these norms involve identities being tagged to you by others, but on another these norms affect self-identity through simple daily practice. This practice involves everyday Jon Anderson 50 activities such as food preparation, site maintenance and entertainment. These activities involve altogether different skills than those associated with similar activities in normal/civil society. Making a cup of tea in EDA spaces involves, for example, collecting and chopping wood, starting a fire, collecting water, heating it, waiting, waiting, brewing, waiting some more… all a far cry from the immediacy of an electric kettle. At a basic level this difference in everyday activities transfers a novelty and liberation to experience, and this is coupled to the novelty of living in close proximity to the specific environment that is being contested. Living outside, often in temporary dwellings (‘benders’) of canvas and wooden poles, individuals become sensitive to the vagaries of weather, temperature and the availability of fruits of the earth. This proximity of engagement with place often generates feelings of identification with the non-human environment, as the following comments suggest: ‘Julia said today that she has a “feeling” for trees, for woods...she says “everything is different in the woods” ’ (author’s field diary). ‘I quite enjoy it [at Ashton Court], it’s a bit like being at Dave’s house when we were kids...I get a slowed down, rhythmic feeling in the woods and on the meadow, relaxed’ (author’s field diary). ‘[Route walks] help everyone build up a relationship with the land they are campaigning for and show exactly where the road is going, especially before work starts. Bill them as fairly neutral so that fence-sitters can find out more and won’t feel as if they are just political rallies. Once they see the land they will know what side of the fence they are on’ (Road Alert!, 1997, p. 54). Daily practice in spaces of EDA thus begins to create ties between self and place. It is common to experience an increased sensitivity to the agency of the environment, not only in its temperature fluctuations but also changes in mood and atmosphere. Such heightened awareness of the local environment’s agency ties participants closer to their cosmological value systems as they experience at first hand unmediated positioning with a broader ecological system. These nascent ties between self and place become intertwined with the connections that are generated between the self and other individuals who participate in that space. Through daily practice close friendships are generated in short spaces of time, loyalties are formed and respect established (see Voices from Earth First, 1998, p. 10). Ironically, or perhaps inevitably, the creation of these ties occurs alongside the threat of their destruction (complementing Tuan, 1976, p. 30). Spaces of EDA are often last-ditch attempts to prevent a change in use of a particular place, and as a result have limited life expectancies. As this change in land use become imminent, the desire to prevent it and maintain the ties that have been established becomes stronger. Instead of railing against the security forces’ labelling of selves as ‘activist’, this tagging is welcomed with a pride that someone is defending a particular cultural valuation of place and life. From this desire to protect the ties created through practice between place- and self-identity, civil disobedience and direct action stem: ‘Before I started Ashton Court my “efficacious range” was me: personal is political, I suppose a bit of a cop out//some quote from Pepper. I can’t change big things so what the point in getting all angry etc. Now at A/C I feel my eff. range is bigger, I’m doing something, I’m part of something wider and I’m not angry—it’s good fun, and feeling like I’m doing something. And we ARE doing something. We exist, we cost £, we change passers by attitudes, we make people think. We make the next one harder. We are standing The Ties that Bind? 51 up for what we believe in, we’re standing up for our common ground our park, our land’ (author’s field diary). ‘Went to Clevedon—we passed wood and quarry on the way back. I felt really angry and upset at the same time. Akin to being truly shaken by bad news. The place “knows” bad things are going to happen. The atmosphere up there is quite affecting. Have to make it better for it somehow’ (author’s field diary). Thus far, in tracing the diagnostics of self- and place-identity in relation to EDA, we have traced a ‘topoanalysis’, to use Tilley’s (1994, p. 15) phrase we have ‘explored the creation of self-identity through place’. To summarise this tracing it is clear that as EDA is performed at a site the cultural reputation of this practice gets sutured to the place—it becomes known as a ‘place of action’. This has the effect of not only connecting that place to other places within the EDA network, but also clarifies them for the state so they can be reordered and policed. Through tagging places in this way it is possible for the state to confine alternative practices to spaces in the open where they ‘can be made and seen to fail’ (Pile, 1997, p. 3). This suturing of reputation to place involves not only an essentialising label being fixed by others to place inhabitants’ self-identity, but also the suturing of self to activist positions through daily practice. As the expectancies of civil society become replaced with alternative norms and customs (in this case of ecocentrism), ties are not simply created between the participants, but also between their selves and the place in question. The ties that bind self- to place-identity are strong. The ‘combination of the amount of time, the emotional intensity, the intimacy, and the reciprocal services which characterise the tie’ (Granovetter, 1973, p. 1361) lead to a valorisation of the ‘activist’ component of self-identity, with this dominating other aspects of the self. The following extract from Klein (2002, p. xxiv) summarises this process (with my own commentary in brackets): ‘The first time I participated in one of these counter summits [i.e. entered a place of EDA], I remember having the distinct feeling that some sort of political portal was opening up, a gateway, a window…This opening had little to do with the broken window at the local McDonald’s, the image so favoured by television cameras; it was something else; a sense of possibility, a blast of fresh air, oxygen rushing to the brain. These protests…are like stepping into a parallel universe. Overnight, the site is transformed…[i.e. the space is politicised, becomes contested, the ‘water’ changes in relation to the ‘fish’] where urgency replaces resignation, corporate logos need armed guards [practices also change], people usurp cars, art is everywhere, strangers talk to each other…[and finally identity changes]…the prospect of a radical change in political course does not seem like an odd and anachronistic idea but the most logical thought in the world [people become activists in this place]’. This experience of EDA places, the creation of ties at/to ‘portals’ of opportunity, results in identification with and feelings of protection towards those sites. As the following Voice from Earth First! (1998, p. 15) describes, ‘[the ties entail] your entire life and identity becom[ing] bound up with a particular piece of land and what you can do to defend it’. Through tagging EDA to a geographical site an opportunity is created which allows individuals to experiment with and practise their own ecological aspects of their identity. Through participation in this EDA site, norms are encountered that put few barriers in the way of individuals wishing to articulate those identities, barriers that are experienced in normal/civil society. Practising this ecological aspect of identity is 52 Jon Anderson encouraged and reinforced, to the degree that in many cases the tag of ‘environmental direct activist’ becomes performed and welcomed.1 In tracing the diagnostics of place and self in this way we have identified a number of ties that bind identity in EDA. These ties can perhaps be thought of as akin to a spider’s web. Like a spider connecting itself to its immediate environment, through participation in political practice the self becomes sutured to identities of place and activism. In the same way that the inhabitants of Calvino’s fictional city of Ersilia stretch strings between the corners of their houses to mark the relationships of blood, trade, authority and agency which sustain the city’s life (Calvino, 1986, p. 76), EDA involves people and places being bound together in a web of connections that in turn help to sustain the geographical- and human-identities of activism itself. But although spaces of EDA encourage this aspect of the self, North (1995) has told us that individuals do not stay in EDA spaces, despite the ties that sustain them. So the question now arises, what happens to the activist self when it returns to ‘normal’ society? A Spatial Division of Identity? Whether the activist self is taken into spaces of normal society depends on the relationship between the individual and place concerned. In my own experience it is difficult to sustain environmental activism outside EDA spaces. Without the ties binding, encouraging and reinforcing practice, combined with norms that encourage alternative aims including political passivity, mediated consumption and instant tea, it is hard to exercise and sustain this activist self in civil society. In my experience, in normal/civil society other aspects of the self re-emerge, themselves encouraged and strengthened by the norms, prohibitions and customs of these spaces. The relationship between this individual and place thus produces a scenario where my fractured identity is manifested in fractured spaces. I articulate one aspect of my multiple identities in one space, and another aspect in a different space. This scenario can be considered as the ‘spatial division of (self-)identity’. The spatial division of identity would suggest that selves and spaces are kept apart due to different discursive practices. As practices become delineated in particular spaces by specific codes and norms, one articulates one aspect of self-identity in one space, and these identities, through lack of practice, are not necessarily brought back into other spaces. Thus we become tagged as ‘employees’ in our work space, ‘spouses’ in home space, ‘one of the gang’ down the pub or ‘activist’ in EDA space. Such a scenario infers that each of these spaces is discrete and easy to move between—stepping into these spaces involves temporarily connecting to the ties that bind behaviour within them, and these ties can be easily disconnected on stepping out of the space. In this sense the spatial division of identity outlines the role of many participants in EDA, as well as, to some degree, illuminating the nature of identity more generally in a postmodern world. Individuals enter spaces, become liable to the ties in those spaces and, dependent on the power of the ties and their power over the individual, become bound by them. Since we live in multiple spaces we are liable to many ties; we have many selves held together by a variety of practices in discrete places. Due to the clear divisions between these places and their times of occupation, it is possible for individuals to have a number of not necessarily coherent self-identities. For example, we are sometimes environmental activists, but sometimes we drive polluting vehicles, fuelled by multi-national companies with morally questionable track records, or are temporary members of conferences that are sponsored by them. Thus we can each harbour ‘conflicting identities’, and these are ‘joined together…through powerful delineations of time–space’ (Massey, 1995, p. 285). The Ties that Bind? 53 These are the ‘complications’, in the words of Kondo (1990, p. 220), of ‘decentred, multiple selves, whose lives are shot through with contradictions and creative tensions’. Despite the existence of these multiple selves, it is another question whether their existence is a ‘good thing’. Practising multiple selves involves a moral ambiguity in relation to the integrity of identity (as noted by Greenline (1997, p. 1) in terms of the example cited above), and finding some sort of communal harmony between selves is an issue to consider, as well as research further. Reflexivity is a crucial component in the process of identity management (as Beck and Beck-Gernsheim (2002) have noted). Through being aware of the influence of place ties on practice, an individual could reflexively determine to continue the articulation of a particular self, not simply in a place that encourages certain behaviour, but in others sites too. Such action and awareness involve the self attempting to overcome the influence of place ties, and if successful, subverting the meaning and naming of sites within the network. This is the process that Keenan (1992) describes in his quotation cited in the introduction above. Through seeking to find a communality between his complex collection of selves, Keenan (1992) attempted to unite them within overarching ethical parameters and realise the (perhaps elusive) goal of an integrated self. As Keenan (1992, XIV, p. 110) states: ‘I wanted to…bond…[my] innermost selves or ‘people’ in a manner which all of us perhaps deep down aspire to…I would not allow my integrity to be taken from me by a surrender to what another believed or would make me be’. The spatial division of identity thesis thus appears neat, but there is a major caveat that undermines the notion: the ability for individuals to take certain selves into ‘wrong’ spaces and in doing so subvert the norms, meanings and identities of these arenas. This is, in the words of Keenan (1992, p. 121), the process of ‘breaking the chains’ that bind selves to place. Indeed, if it were not for this process, places of EDA would not be created in the first instance. The spatial division of identity hypothesis thus takes into account the influence of ties and norms of a place on self, but pays less attention to the influence of self on place. Acknowledging the reciprocity of this relationship is important. Although possible at any time in any place, it is where ambiguous, loose or undefined ties exist that the movement of selves and their practices across platial borders is facilitated. This movement subverts codes and customs of a place and creates new potentialities (a ‘critical thirding’ in the words of Soja, 1996). Such a process is what Routledge (1996) explored in relation to the spaces and identities of academics and activists. Academic and activist spaces, it can be argued, are prime examples of the possibilities that could be invoked by self on place due to the relatively loose and broadly defined ties that hold each of these place-identities together. In these spaces there is greater scope to interchange selves in places, or places in selves—unlike, for example, spaces of the military, or even the office, where tighter codes bind practices within accepted customs and preferences, thus making it more difficult for self to influence place-identity. So, although the spatial division of identity does illustrate that the postmodern self is no longer singular in nature, and that place-identity can have an effect on self-identity, the diagnostics of place- and self-identity are not one-way. Rather they are reciprocal, with the creation of a contested space (or ‘thirdspace’, see Soja, 1996) always possible through the self effecting place-identity through unconventional practice. Further insight can be offered into this reciprocal tracing through an allusion to Deleuze and Guattari’s (1987) notion of the rhizome. Jon Anderson 54 The Rhizomatic Self As Lim (1996) states, Deleuze and Guattari (1987) use the notion of ‘rhizome’ as a figurative term to describe non-hierarchical networks of all kinds: ‘[In a rhizome] there is no hierarchy...the perception of connectivity is initiated by you, and is, therefore, a decentralising principle. At any given moment the ‘centre’ is the individual’s position’ (from http://cs.art.rmit.edu.au/). It is posited here that the multiple identities of places and selves can be considered in rhizomatic terms. Following Lim (1996), this would involve the relationship between selves and places being characterised by a non-hierarchical network. As stated above, the site that is called into being at a given time is the temporary centre of the network. If, for example, the individual is doing activism in an activism space, that self is central. This perspective complements the logic of the spatial division of identity hypothesis as if borders are crossed into other spaces different ties could exert pressure to change the temporary centre of the identity network. However, in the rhizomatic construction of identity, the borders that separate sites are not discrete and clear-cut as in the previous hypothesis. Rather they are porous, allowing selves to move through them and practise activity in ‘other’ spaces. Thus movement of selves into new geographical sites is made easier, facilitated by the ‘tap-root’ structure of the rhizome (see Lim, 1996). Considering the identity of sites in this way therefore empowers the self by making clear that the relations between self and place are reciprocal. It is not only possible for place to influence the self, but also for the self to influence place. Coupled to this, this perspective also enhances the role of the human body in this relationship. The body is not only the corporeal container for self-identities, but also the vehicle through which place-identities are experienced and encountered. It is, both literally and figuratively, the epidermis joining the self to place. It is then the sensitivity of this epidermis that gauges the degree to which self is influenced by place, and vice versa. In some cases selves may be completely insensitive to the place ties that seek to bind them, leading to one self dominating in every place, a process that de Botton (2002, p. 20) describes: ‘My awareness of them [of place ties] was weakened by a number of other, incongruous and unrelated elements. Among these, a sore throat that I had developed during the flight, a worry at not having informed a colleague that I would be away, a pressure across both my temples and a rising need to visit the bathroom. A momentous but until then overlooked fact was making its first appearance: that I had inadvertently brought myself with me to the island’. On the other hand, heightened sensitivity to place ties may also lead to the one self overriding the influence of place. Through the process of reflexion individuals may wish to attempt to unify or harmonise their multiple selves through maintaining one self in all spaces. This is a difficult—and ongoing—process. In the language of Deleuze and Guattari’s (1987) rhizome it is a process of constant becoming. Identities, and the relations between them, do not begin and end, but are ‘always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p. 5); they are simultaneously both entities and processes (Harvey, 1996, p. 49). Despite differential sensibilities to the power of various sites, selves are continually influenced by places, and vice versa. In the words of Massey (1995, p. 285), we ‘do not bring already appropriately constituted identities into each specific political arena’, rather we continually adapt selves to places, and places to selves. In line with rhizomatic structures, site identities may thus be multiple, but they are also one, they are the ‘changing same’ The Ties that Bind? 55 (Gilroy, 1993) simultaneously tagged to the corporeal body of the individual or geographical area. This simultaneity confers a ‘stroke’ existence to these sites (literally so in the case of ‘Stroke City’, the vernacular name for Derry/Londonderry in Northern Ireland: see Routes of English, 2003),2 similar to that of Fine’s (1994) ‘hyphen’ identities (e.g. academic-activist). Such simultaneity entangles and (con)fuses these sites’ naming and meaning, requiring a constant diagnostics to unravel. Conclusion By tracing the diagnostics of self and place in EDA this paper has recognised that self and place are caught in reciprocal relations. It supports Casey (2001, p. 684) when he states ‘we can no longer distinguish neatly between physical and personal identity...place is regarded as constitutive of one’s sense of self’. By exploring the role that places of EDA play on senses of self as ‘activist’, the paper has considered the merits of the relationship between self and place. Initially the consideration of the self/place relationship has been in terms of the spatial division of identity—of the fractured self being articulated in fractured places—one self being expressed through practice in one space, and another in another. Due to the reciprocal relations between self and place this configuration can also be understood as rhizomatic in nature, with the possibility for border crossing between selves in different places, and different places in selves. This leads to ‘critical thirding’ (after Soja, 1996) of the identity of places and selves—the existence of different, often contradictory tagging of identities on the same entities/processes. This consideration of the explicit ‘contact zones’ between EDA and ‘normal’ society has potential implications for the praxis of other spaces to which identities are tied. Being mindful of the normalised codes and customs of all the places we inhabit (be they of work, leisure, politics or consumption) we can, perhaps, become more aware of the implicit ‘contact zones’ that we negotiate, subvert or acquiesce to in everyday life. In conclusion, the paper highlights the importance of reflexivity and personal responsibility in the relationship between selves and place. Through reflecting on the multiple places in which we live our lives, and the influence of place ties on our practice, it is possible to seek a communality between our selves and attempt to influence the ties that bind our behaviour. Following Braidotti (1994, p. 32), the paper offers a view of the self as ‘capable of agency and accountability’. It is possible for individuals to take responsibility for their practice and move their multiple selves in line with their own ethical and political standpoints (see Routledge, 1996; Maxey, 1999). So, to answer the question at the beginning of this paper: is environmental activism just something people do on weekends? It might well be. But, crucially, it need not be. It is a practice determined by the reciprocal relations between the ties that bind selves and places in the postmodern world. Acknowledgements I would like to thank the anonymous referees for commenting constructively on the arguments made here. Notes 1. Despite an immediate identification with a site of EDA, individuals nevertheless retain the fractured nature of their identity. The problems of negotiating or managing these multiple identities have been dealt with (in relation to academic and activist identities) elsewhere (Anderson, 2002), as well as being the subject of ongoing research by the author. 56 Jon Anderson 2. ‘Derry/Londonderry. Its very name speaks of deep-seated political, social, even linguistic divisions. 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