Resenha

Vagner da Silva’s The Anthropologist and his Magic is a study of Brazilian anthropologists at work, in particular of those who conduct field research on Afro-Brazilian religions. Based on dozens of in-depth interviews with both anthropologists and their subjects, the book seeks to reveal the “different dimensions of [anthropologists’] relationships with the object of [their] study, how these relationships are reflected in the research and how fieldwork become transformed into the ethnographic text” (p. 15)

The book is largely successful. The literature to which it contributes – i.e., analyses of the “ethnographic encounter” -- is notoriously crowded with works of uneven quality, for anthropologists who examine fieldwork easily slip into self-flagellation or self-congratulation. It is to da Silva’s credit that he avoids both, providing instead a balanced, clearly written, densely-researched, genuinely insightful analysis.

The main thing that keeps The Anthropologist and his Magic from becoming a repetition of the obvious point that all research is socially “situated” is that, all the while deconstructing the nature of ethnography, the work remains itself elegantly, richly, and unapologetically ethnographic. Thus, the reader is instructed, among other things, in how Brazilian anthropologists are drawn to afro-religious communities because they hope to find there the long-lost values of community; and how once there they feel at home because houses of candomble resemble nothing so much as the strict hierarchy and ritualism of Brazilian academic life. We are also invited to witness how scholars such as Juana Elbein dos Santos, Roberto Motta, and Julio Braga take field notes (they duck into the bathroom); how they become accepted into terreiros by taking on ritual roles; how initiation is regarded as a necessary anthropologist’s rite of passage; how female researchers gain access to the world-within-a-world of female candomblecistas; and so forth.

This level of detail raises important questions of ethics, such as: How far should an anthropologist go in claiming belief in the orixas as a technique for gaining access? By letting his informants weigh in on the matter, da Silva is able to reveal fascinating contrasts. Juana Elbein dos Santos, for example, declares that while she does not believe in the orixas, she likes them, and that since there is (she claims) no distinction in the Yoruba language between “faith” and “liking”, she is satisfied that she is not misleading her informants (p 102). Rita Amaral, less sure, decides to tell her informants that she “doesn’t believe that rituals can resolve problems. I could be a hypocrite and submit [to the ritual], that wouldn’t cost me anything, but it isn’t sincere. I’d rather be your friend than to enter into such hypocrisy.” (p. 103)

It is a measure of the high quality of da Silva’s  ethnography that he does not try to resolve this matter. Instead, he turns to the afro-practitioner informants for their say. They know that whatever anthropologists say, orixas are real and powerful. Skepticism about their existence is, for them, akin to skepticism about the force of gravity – silly and harmless. What look like a moral dilemma for the anthropologist emerges as a source of puzzlement or even amusement for practitioners. What practitioners expect far more than belief is respect. They are not interested in gaining converts; rather, they wish to lay claim to “their anthropologist”, whose presence will confirm a house’s prestige and reputation. Practitioners also seek recognition of their full, rounded personhood and humanity. In a revealing passage, Mae Sandra tells da Silva that she had been present at a conference at which anthropologists were reporting their research results. “It’s not that there wasn’t respect, you know? But there was such coldness! [Mas e que havia uma frieza tao grande]. They are researching people, you know? I am not an arm. They said, ‘He entered into a house and researched such and such a segment, such and such sector, and so on.’ That I find shocking.” (p. 140)

The overall effect of The Anthropologist’s Magic is to have produced a concrete, realistic, fascinating portrait of one segment of Brazilian society as it struggles to plumb the secrets of another segment. Both as a text about method, and as a portrait of a revealing corner of Brazilia society, The Anthropologist and His Magic is really quite magical. The sooner this book can be translated into English, the better it will be for courses on methodology, religion, Brazilian and Latin American studies.