Thursday, December 20th, 2007
Alright, so I guess treat this as a draft, even though I’ve handed it in already for credit, it’s not really complete. But there’s still some good stuff in there. Here is a link to a pdf version which preserves all my sexilicious typographic manipulations, I’ll post one in HTML as well for online viewing, with some typography preserved.
Here’s the PDF: [US Letter] or [A4]
Abstract:
Changers are traders who emerged during the traumatic early 90’s as an organic answer to Mongolia’s problems of economic disconnectedness, revealed by the collapse of the regional socialist framework. Today, despite more than fifteen
years of transition, they remain a vital piece of the Mongolian economy. Connecting herders to factories and to Chinese merchants, they allow for goods to navigate Mongolia’s notoriously sparse landscape economically.
Focusing on one sub-group: those who trade the livestock by-products skins, hides, wool and cashmere, this paper aims to understand them as a phenomenon: how and why did they emerge? What is their role in today’s Mongolia? How has changing evolved, and will its evolution continue? Is there a place for changing in post-transition Mongolia?
Despite evidence of changing’s transitional “ad-hoc” nature, the institution seems to evolving in step with the economy as a whole. The further up the supply chain one looks, and the more volume a changer processes, the more formal their operations. For now, the vast majority still operates firmly in the informal realm, with little official contracts or business agreements, but the future is far from clear. Changers seem to appreciate the benefits of evolving along with the economy; without such evolution the place for these traders in the future is uncertain.
The paper closes with a look to the future: as factories begin to search for formal contractual arrangements to ensure predictable supply, changing becomes a target for formalization and incorporation. What does this mean for the future of these notoriously individualistic and unorganized traders? Will they cease to be changers?
Monday, December 10th, 2007
So. I’m done. I’m now home (actually, at Middlebury) and dealing with re-entry… but I haven’t really written or posted since the beginning of ISP period. Things went pretty well, though my actual final product (the paper) was less than impressive, since my rather absurdly bad time management/organizational skills (or, rather, lack thereof) conspired to thwart my best efforts at creating a polished piece. So, the paper is less than amazing. And my presentation was pretty good, but I was running on not-much-sleep, and according to my host father, it showed (though he said I shouldn’t listen to him since he’s a pastor, and his standards are pretty high).
Anyways, he filmed a bit of the ISP presentations, which took place on December 1st, from 9am-1pm Mongoliatime at the Ulaanbaatar Hotel; notable guests included several of our lecturers including my advisor, Sukhee, as well as Ambassador Mark Minton and one of his staffers, a former SIT student-turned-fullbrighty who is studying NGO ethics for a thesis in Philosophy, my host family from UB, my host mother from my stay in Arvaikheer (the aimag center of Övörkhangai aimag (province)), who has since been promoted and moved to UB (she’s a judge).
So that’s a quick overview, just enough so I can post some documents for your perusal, before I post the ISP itself (i’ll make it more web friendly first), here is a sexy diagram I spent far too much time on, which illustrates the network of changers and the products they trade:
PNG (image):
PDF: 
Saturday, November 3rd, 2007
SO, I’ve updated the research page with my final ISP proposal, as well as one of the previous iterations. The last week has been completely INSANE, trying to finish up all our “regular” work on top of finalizing ISP topics and arranging all our travel plans/translators/budget/etc… So I finally have a wikiplan for the month.
I’ll be studying animal skin and meat changers (mongolian: chenjuud), they’re raw material traders who travel around buying stuff from herders or other changers, then selling to other changers or factories or whomever. My plans right now are to hang out in UB for the next few days, spending some time at these two huge raw materials markets on the East and West outskirts of the city (1hr drive with bad traffic); Emeelt is on the West, and is where all the traders from Western aimags come to do biznizz; vice-versa for Nalaikh on the east side, which trades with the Eastern aimags. I’m hoping to get some contacts with changers in UB that I can meet with and chat, get an idea how things work. Then I leave on Monday for Darkhan, the third largest city in Mongolia (not saying much, 76,000). I’ll spend a couple days there (staying with the uncle of one of our language teachers, along with another student and her translator) visiting a sheepskin coat factory, and hopefully talking to some changers while I’m there. Then back to UB, and onwards to Kharkhorin, the ancient capital of the Great Mongolian Empire (known in the West as Kharakhorum). In Kharkhorin I have a homestay with a changer! Which is gonna be awesome. So he’s super busy right now because all the farmers are slaughtering their animals, since there’s been predictions of a harsh winter coming up. So there’ll be plenty of activity for me to tag along and watch. I’ll spend a week or so there, then onwards to Tsetserleg where I’m staying with the family of one of our teacher’s wife. Their whole extended fam lives there, so they know pretty much everyone, and can hook me up with contacts and such. Then on the 18th its back to UB to write, and visit some factories here since I prolly won’t have time before I leave.
Phew. Well I gotta run since its 1am and I still have to walk home (or is it worth 50 cents for a taxi…). Anyways, sorry about not getting any recent photos up, but its super slow where I have wireless, and when I don’t its just too confusing putting photos on my flash drive, then only getting some uploaded, but not being sure which ones… blah blah. So y’all will have to wait until I get back to UB… or maybe the states. heh…
Hope all’s well. And by all means, send emails or drop comments here! And I’d be happy to respond to questions and stuff too…
Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007
I find myself agreeing with what I heard from Ueli Minder, CEO of the Foundation for the Preservation of the Mahayana Tradition in Mongolia, that the most important development issue in today’s Mongolia is its crisis of identity. Much like the representatives we met from an Evangelical Christian, a Catholic and a Russian Orthodox church, Ueli spoke of the receding tide of communism leaving a people stripped of their inner strength and belief system, thus lacking an identity in a harsh new world. To make matters worse, Mongolians are now suddenly open to the barrage of culture and information from which the Iron Curtain had shielded them, “its not just the lifting of the pressure, it’s the moving of a completely different world, with all the television, with all the Western, European, American values and which come in a completely unrealistic way.” Eager to fill this newly created spiritual vacuum, missionaries from various Christian sects have descended upon Mongolia; according to Father Aleksei, head of the Russian Orthodox Church in Mongolia, some are actively destroying the Mongolian identity. He cited an example of the result such destruction brings: the suicide of several young Mongolians in the name of Jesus Christ.
The basis of the identity and moral crisis in Mongolia is in the psychological effects of a people under dictatorial rule. With the ever-present eye of the government dominating one’s life, it becomes easiest to simply yield ones thoughts and beliefs to control from above: “How fear can destroy the human mind: trust and communication, everything.” Ueli gave an example from a Christian friend of his who was holding discussion groups, and discovered trust no longer had any meaning to young Mongolians; in Ueli’s words: “They didn’t know what it means. Trust… that hinders so much people to grow internally. Because they even don’t trust themselves.” Moreover, Mongolia’s ability to navigate a path into the future is dependant on her relationship to this dark history, “Here in Mongolia… I think only with dealing with the reality, also admitting what went wrong, they can really find out again what they are, and what they want to be.” This theme was echoed in a modern context by Mr. Ganbaatar, head of the CMTU, who lamented the rise of “crazy capitalism”, and expressed his wish that Mongolians take ownership of their country, and thus of their own destiny. Instead, a growing number are turning to outsiders to shoulder this burden, blaming the country’s problems on foreign businesses.
Ueli, much like the representatives of the three other religions, sees his role in the solving of this problem as primarily educational. In addition to teaching about Mahayana Buddhism, Ueli has taken advantage of his background in teacher education to affect some real positive change in the education system. After holding a seminar with several other religious groups on the family, alcohol and values, several teachers approached him pleading, “Do this more with us! We need help with how to teach the kids values, what to do!” Not only is he teaching about values, but also how to teach values, a more sustainable, though skill-intensive approach.
Buddhism also has a role in both the reclamation of Mongolia’s history, as well as the laying of a foundation for the future. By learning about Buddhism, Mongolians are rediscovering a vital aspect of their culture, one virtually eliminated during the socialist era. With the Buddhist education comes also a moral and ethical structure, which with history are vital to the building of a robust Mongolian identity. Ueli has no problem with Mongolians converting to Christianity, if they feel it will help them, but he is distressed when this conversion prevents them from fully reclaiming their history, since Buddhism is perceived as a threat to their new Christian identity. Without truly coming to terms with their history, these Mongolians are building a new identity on a partial foundation, and this results in an identity that is fragile and incomplete.
The phenomenon of growing extreme Nationalism is related to this crisis in identity, and aided by the growth of widespread corruption. During her talk on Democratization, Ms. Undarya talked about the growing fascist movement, with its emphasis on history and a biologically purist, male-centric national identity. Perhaps these young Mongolians are reacting violently to outside encroachment, which they perceive as a threat. Their insecurity and emptiness is activated by the presence of foreigners, which inflames and catalyzes the creation of an über-nationalist identity; this nationalism feeds on the strength of Mongolia’s ancient history, creating a sense of invincibility that is even less compatible with the reclamation of a dark period in history.
For the FPMT and Buddhists in general, their efforts are limited by any stigma associated with the name Buddhism. Even Ueli levels some criticism at the historical status quo in both Tibetan and Mongolian Buddhism, and their disconnectedness from society. Especially the mixing of opportunistic capitalism with Buddhism, which he believes has alienated many from looking further. But he also sees Buddhism changing, learning from other religions such as the service-minded Christians. The ability of Buddhism to change with the times, under the guidance of the FPMT and Gandan Monastery (the closest thing to a central authority in Mongolian Buddhism), will determine the future of Buddhism in Mongolia, and the extent to which Christianity is able to fill Mongolians’ identity vacuum before people have a chance to rediscover their historical faith.
Thus, Mongolia faces many challenges on its quest for a new identity. Mongolia must learn about and come to terms with its past, whilst staying afloat in the flood of imagery and culture that has especially deluged its media-saturated youth. Likewise, the poisonous appeal of fascist nationalism threatens to further radicalize the most severely disaffected. Like Ueli Minder, and his colleagues from other organizations said, civic and historical education, whether from schools or religious institutions, is clearly important to the success of this transformation. While each organization has its own particular approach, they will also all gain from working together, as the successful collaboration of the FPMT with other religious organizations showed. This will also foster dialogue between religious groups on other issues, helping to avoid a further polarization of the religious climate. However, in the end, Mongolia’s future rests in the hands of its people, most notably its large demographic of young people; if they succeed in acquiring a stable and secure identity, Mongolia can turn its attention to more technical issues of development. Otherwise, no amount of development studies or technical reports can fix the torn psyche of this people, caught in a flux between multiple worlds.
Sunday, September 23rd, 2007
The following is a paper I wrote following our homestay in Delgerkhaan, as a reflection on the experience, as well as a summary of the results of our two interviews, which we had to complete during the stay. Note that a bit of this is redundant since I borrowed a few pieces from my previous blog post, but it’s mostly new stuff.
I rested my hands on my legs, perched solidly on the footrests of my host father’s motorcycle as we sped through the night. The cool air soothed my skin, each molecule a reminder of the authenticity of the moment, and my very mortality. The motorcycle’s lone headlight danced its way across the steppe; I leaned back, resting my hands on my knees, and gazed up at the endless starry dark. My stomach full of боодог (boodog, Mongolian roasted goat), сүүтэй цай (suutei tsai, milky tea), айраг (airag, fermented mare’s milk) and архи (arhi, vodka), I smiled at the uniqueness and beauty of this experience, and drank in the Mongolian night.
My time in Дэлгэрхаан (Delgerhaan) was laced with solitary gems such as this motorcycle ride, amidst a number of much less outwardly positive experiences. Even that very night, I had convinced myself that my host father Энхамгалан (Enhamgalthan) had gone to the goat roast without me. He had left without warning a few minutes before 9pm, when the event was supposed to start; by 10:30pm, I wrote an angry journal entry and began readying for bed. Yet he returned just as suddenly as he had left, bursting into the ger and declaring, “Явъя!” (Yavii!, Let’s Go!). I wrote another journal entry the next morning, in which I laughed at my own predictability. I was so paranoid at being left out, that I had talked myself into a frustrated rage; counter-productive behavior by any measure. Yet in my defense, I had little reason to take my father at his word, for I had already seen the Mongolian penchant for spontaneity. I don’t know now what I could reasonably have done, other than live in the moment, and take things as they were without angst or drama. Which is easier said than done.
My family consisted of my father, Энхамгалан, mother, Очирчимэг (Ochirchimeg), two seven year old sisters, Долгорсүрэн (Dolgorsuren) and Лхамсүрэн (Lhamsuren), and one year old Лхагвасүрэн (Lhagvasuren) (nicknamed air-raid siren partway through the homestay). Our ger was the most remote, with no visible neighbors in any direction. We had a solar panel that powered a light at night, as well as a small flat-screen TV and its satellite receiver. The TV was usually on. For transportation we had a Chinese motorcycle, a Toyota sedan with a cracked windshield thanks to curious goats, and an old pickup truck that guzzled gas and was used for mainly for storage and meat drying, as well as moving. My host mother’s parents lived in the сүм center. After a few days, school began, and everyone except Энхамгалан went to live in town. They returned briefly for the weekend, but otherwise it was basically just Энхамгалан, the herd and me.
Daily life involved lots of sitting around while Энхамгалан went out and herded his flock of several hundred sheep and goats, and a few dozen cattle. Or going out with him to herd the sheep and goats, or cows. Every morning he would drive them out onto the steppe to graze for the day while I ate breakfast. Then at night we’d ride out on horseback and herd them home. The calves were kept in a pen to prevent them from nursing during the night. In the morning, Очирчимэг would milk the cows, then let the calves out. Other duties included gathering аргал, which is the primary fuel source, either with my two seven-year-old host sisters or alone (after the first few days they went to the district center for school); fetching water, which meant riding on the back of Энхамгалан’s motorcycle to the river, filling up the water jug, then riding back with it perched precariously between my legs; cooking dinner (once Очирчимэг and the kids had gone to the сүм center), which meant peeling potatoes, rolling out the dough for noodles, and slicing onions; and sweeping up the ger. I also appointed myself resident fly-assassin, and spent many minutes pacing in circles around the ger, long underwear in hand, hunting for flies to eliminate. As the day warmed, they would work into a frenzy, turning the inside of the ger into a hellish swarm (see poem). Somehow my family was able to ignore these winged menaces, but I admitted defeat in this regard as soon as I began my quest to eliminate as many flies as possible. I thought about this at the time, but didn’t reasonably believe I could achieve this during my two-week homestay. So the flies had to go. I couldn’t really stand to be in the ger during the mid-day frenzy, so I’d often sit outside on a rug and do my homework. This was another concession as I let the silence of my family, the language barrier, and the flies limit my immersion and connection to the family. On the other hand, most days I was home alone, or with my seven-year-old sisters, who were often playing outside anyways.
As the homestay progressed, I was given more and more responsibility herding the animals. This was at least partly due to our mother being gone, meaning one of us had to stay at the ger to cook dinner. Herding was definitely one of the highlights of the homestay for me. Herding the animals was meditative, especially when I was sent out alone. Trotting behind the jostling mass of animals, I would watch the sky melt into a rhapsody of color as the sun set behind me. I also quickly dispelled any romantic notions of life as a малчин, when I helped separate our herd from another, sometimes twice in one day. Yet the tiredness I felt was far different than that produced by the grind of academia at home; it was physical, and much more satisfying. I could look outside the ger and see the animals I had herded in from the steppe. I knew I was making a contribution, and every ache reminded me so. Also, by the end I had a much less romantic view of the animals themselves: one day I made a note in my field journal, “Poem title: ‘I Want to Kill You, Goat’” (Field Journal, 9/12/07, p.127).
My kinship and family history interviews showed little difference between my host-father’s family tree and one I might construct of my own family. On first thought this was unremarkable to me, but then I realized it really is quite strange. For a people that have lived in the same land for 2000 years to have so little connection to their past is unusual. I think now it may be due to the Soviet policy of eliminating family names and discouraging family heritage. It’s sad to think such a policy would be effective, but from the family tree I saw it appeared to be the case. Then again, my father also didn’t appear distraught at his lack of knowledge, nor eager to find out more. He seemed quite content simply knowing that he was descended from Чинггис хаан (Chinggis Haan). No further detail or origin myths were needed.
My free choice interview was about Nationalism and Mongolian Identity and was one of the most frustrating afternoons of the homestay. The quiet nature of my host father made it difficult to get anything more than a few words in response to even general questions. Partly this may be due to the fact that as a herder, he rarely has to think about such abstractions as what it means to be Mongolian. Also surprising was his lack of opinion on most matters, whether it be the future career of his daughters, or city life. Regarding modernization, he showed a very different conception of Mongolian identity. He was clear that clothing, music, even language were unimportant, and modernization’s effects in the city to that regard were not alarming. The one change that he saw as a threat was one of belief; namely, the growing Christian influence. He mentioned his fear that religion changes people’s thoughts, beliefs, and acts as a divisive force in Mongolian society.
Also, the interview gave an interesting view of Энхамгалан’s nationalism and sense of Mongolian identity. He had already mentioned the importance of descent from Чинггис хаан in his family history interview, and this resurfaced again during the second interview. In response to the question, “What does it mean to be Mongolian?” he answered that it was to be descended from Чинггис хаан. As discussed in Johanna Twersky’s ISP, this shows the importance of lineage over citizenship, supporting the primordial definition of nationalism over that of civic responsibility. This is supported by a quote from Twersky’s interview with Lhamsuren, “Mainstream thought is still that a nation is determined by citizenship [as introduced into the Mongolian consciousness by the Soviets], however the Mongolian instinct seems to be to return to lineage” (Johanna Twersky, “Highlights and Shadows: The Development of a Country Fixed in Tradition”, Spring 2005, p.13).
Regarding modernization, Энхамгалан also had the view that “it is good”. This combined with his sense of nationalism, in his desire to take part in the reawakening of Mongolia, and its eventual return to the greatness of its past. I was a bit confused by this at first, since he seemed to be extolling modernization, yet living the anti-modern lifestyle. Finally, I learned that he intended to pursue education in UB and establish a dairy farm. Yet he maintained the importance of the nomadic life, and expressed his desire to somehow create a hybrid of sedentary farming and nomadic life—a new nomadism. He clearly exhibited a flare for the meritocratic aspects of democratic life, as he mentioned in our interview that Soviet times were better for the lazy. Now, those willing to work can see reward for their efforts, and according to Энхамгалан, can feel proud to be helping make Mongolia the great nation its people still remember in their hearts.
The mapping exercise showed a stark difference between my father’s idea of a map and my own. The most obvious difference is attention to detail, and varying types of accuracy. Clearly, the language barrier prevented a more thorough communication of my request for him to draw a map. While I was instructed to include a scale and proper symbols, he was merely told to draw a map of 150m around his home. Thus, the resulting pictures can’t quite be compared directly. Yet I know I would have drawn a very similar map even without such specific directions, thus much of the analysis still holds. I spent the majority of my time calculating the map scale, and ensuring that my drawing conformed to such a scale. My father excluded a scale, and spent much more time symbolizing the entities, rather than placing them in space. That is, I made sure the square I drew to represent the truck was in just the right place, and was about the right size; meanwhile my father made sure the truck was detailed enough to be clearly identifiable as his truck, as well as differentiable from the car parked nearby. This showed our vastly different perspectives. My map was a vertical perspective, highly abstracted, and highly accurate to ensure the transferability of its information to other contexts. My father’s map was much more human-scaled, and directly relatable to his life, rather than to the world standard of what a map should look like.
My time on the steppe was real. Among other things, it had the important function of dislodging any romantic notions I had of life on the steppe. Much as I hypothesize in my ISP proposal, I believe those who have urbanized often conjure a rosy view of the rural life, especially where such a life is so important to national identity. Энхамгалан showed that he appreciates the importance of this lifestyle, yet also has a strong desire to modernize, and make a better life for himself and his family. More importantly, he sees this as completely within the realm of possibility, and does not share my fear that the nomadic lifestyle is under threat (except from climate change). Personally, I was tested in many ways, and forced to adapt to a completely new, and sometimes hostile environment. Most difficult of all was checking my expectations at the door, the most nefarious of cultural baggage. I repeatedly found myself frustrated when what I expected to happen—even if that expectation was completely reasonable—didn’t. Learning to cope with these unfulfilled expectations would make life in any culture more pleasant and peaceful, even in the United States where ambiguous expectations may not be culturally accepted, but are still a fact of life.
