Knörr_2010_Contemporary Creoleness_ or, The World in Pidginization

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Contemporary Creoleness; or, The World in Pidginization?

Author(s): Jacqueline KnörrReviewed work(s):Source: Current Anthropology, Vol. 51, No. 6 (December 2010), pp. 731-759Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of Wenner-Gren Foundation for AnthropologicalResearchStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/657257 .

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Current Anthropology Volume 51, Number 6, December 2010 731

2010 by The Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research. All rights reserved. 0011-3204/2010/5106-0004$10.00. DOI: 10.1086/657257

Contemporary Creoleness; or, The Worldin Pidginization?

by Jacqueline Knörr

“Creolization” has often been terminologically equated with “hybridization,” “syncretization,” and

other terms referring to processes of mixture. Normative assumptions concerning categories of race,

origin, and culture as well as emic labeling have had a strong impact on who and what was labeled

as creole. I argue for a more concise and contextualized understanding of the term “creole” to warrant

its usefulness for comparative cultural analysis. Examining the social and historical context of cre-

olization and tracing the etymology of “creole” and its meanings over time show that creolization

has been distinct in involving indigenization and—to varying degrees—ethnicization of diverse and

in large part foreign populations. Taking into account creolization’s—and creole terminology’s—historical semantics helps unfold the latter’s heuristic potentials for a more systematic and comparative

analysis, conceptualization, and differentiation of contemporary processes of interaction and mixture.

By connecting the historical semantics of creolization and creoleness with specific sociolinguistic

approaches to distinguish between creole and pidgin variants of language, historical creolization’s

major contemporary “outcome”—pidginization of culture and identity—comes to light, a process

prevalent particularly in postcolonial societies. Theoretical assumptions will be substantiated by

empirical examples from Indonesia and Sierra Leone.

Contextualizing Etymology

Discourses on the etymology and meaning of the term “cre-

ole”1 and its correlates “creolization” and “creoleness” will

vary according to the social, historical, and cultural context

and according to which group is engaging with these terms

(cf. Stewart 2007).2 The criteria that are applied to denote a

phenomenon or a person as creole range from origin and

phenotype (“race”) to social and cultural features.3 They are

as dependent on worldviews as is the etymology of the eth-

nonyms of various creole groups and as are the criteria and

reasons brought forth to demonstrate creole identity. These

ambivalent and contradictory discourses on the relevant ter-

minology, ethnonyms, and etymologies are carried out in the

public sphere as well as in various academic disciplines. They

indicate the social relevance of creole identity particularly inpostcolonial societies where the ambivalence associated with

it is largely due to the attending colonial history as part of

which creolization took place.

Using recent examples of various etymologies for the term

“creole,” Chaudenson (2001) reveals the basic ideologies they

Jacqueline Knörr is Head of Research Group at the Max Planck

Institute for Social Anthropology (Advokatenweg 36, D-06114 Halle/

Saale, Germany [[email protected]]). This paper was submitted 20

VIII 07 and accepted 19 III 10.

are based on and explains that—in contrast to the “old” et-

ymology, which traces the term back to the Spanish crioulo —

they do not hold up to scientific scrutiny: “Recent lexico-

graphic attempts . . . illustrate perfectly how often extremeideological fantasies can divert serious thinking, even in de-

bates that are reputedly scientific. . . . In reality, the facts

about the word creole are now well known, even though

experts can still discuss some details on its etymology” (1, 3).

It seems that some of these alleged etymologies are trying to

accumulate evidence concerning the original usage of the

“creole” word in order to substantiate the origin of the first

“creole” person—the Ur-Creole, as it were. In order to sub-

stantiate the latter’s blackness or whiteness, some have come

up with a “black” and others with a “white” etymology. 4

In order to reveal and tap the full heuristic potential of the

creole terminology, it must be liberated from its normative

baggage—not least by historically contextualizing its emer-gence and development to the best of our knowledge. I will

1. These discourses also refer to local variants of this term, such as

Cre ´ole , Crioullo , Kreo , and so forth.

2. See also Knight (1997): “As such the term [Creole] has constantly

undergone changes in usage reflecting the changes in culture and society

through the ages” (273).

3. Capital C is used for the proper noun “Creole” that refers to an

individual or a group; lowercase c is used for the adjective “creole.”

4. Examples of this ideologically based etymology can be found in

Chaudenson (2001:2–4).


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732 Current Anthropology Volume 51, Number 6, December 2010

therefore begin my terminological endeavor in search of a

more concise conceptualization of the “C-word” (Palmié

2007b ) by “etymologizing” and contextualizing its semantics

in historical perspective. I will then make use of interdisci-

plinary approaches that combine anthropological and soci-

olinguistic insights, thereby trying to differentiate between

historical processes of creolization on the one hand and some

of their contemporary outcomes on the other.

The Portuguese word crioulo is considered the oldest term

for a “Creole.” However, the first documented use of the term

is the Spanish criollo , which refers to Spaniards who were

born in the New World in contradistinction to the European-

born peninsulares (Stephens 1983:28–39; cf. Hoffmann 2003:

3–4; Stephens 1999).5 Crioulo and criollo can be traced to the

verb criar (to raise, nourish, create) as well as the noun cria

(infant, baby, person without a family), both of which are

likely to have derived from the Latin creare (to create; Houaiss

2001; cf. Spitzer 2003:59). The endings -oulo or -olo mark the

word as a diminutive that was originally used to refer tochildren born in exile, and only later was use of the word

expanded to refer to adults, too (Arrom 1951:175).

Distinctions were subsequently made between slaves born

in Africa and those born in the respective colony. The latter

were called Creoles, Criollos, or Crioulos, while the former

were referred to as New Africans, Saltwater Negroes, or Wild

Negroes (Morgan 1991:199–200; Pierce 1998:222). Mixed de-

scendants of black and white parents were also considered

Creoles. The term was used to refer to blacks and whites,

while the given context or additional distinctions—such as

White Creole or Black Creole—clarified which “kind” of Cre-

ole was meant. Thus, the term originally distinguished be-

tween those born in their country of origin and those bornin exile; it classified people and groups with reference to their

indigeneity or exogeneity: “By claiming a ‘creole identity,’

people from colonized lands stress their difference from the

original colonists and their descendants in the Old Country”

(Hoffmann 2003:5). Conversely, “Creole” was also a desig-

nation foisted on colonial settlers by people in the respective

homelands who had ceased to consider the former as cona-

tionals while still ruling over them well into the nineteenth

century.

Creolization occurred among oppressed and dominant

groups, including the slaves in America, the European settlers

in Louisiana and South Africa, the freed slaves in West Africa,

and the slaves and servants in colonial Indonesia (Grijns andNas 2000; Knörr 2007). It took place in societies in which

social inequality and social class correlated with place of origin

and race, and as a result, it was a process characterized pri-

marily by the ethnicization of social classes. Slave exiles and

5. The first documented use of the term was in a letter by Garcı́a de

Castro from Peru on April 2, 1567: “Que esta tierra esté llena de criollos

que son estos que acá an nacido, y como nunca an conocido al rrey ni

esperan concello” (This land is full of Creoles, which are those who have

been born here and . . . do not know the king and have no hope of ever

knowing him); quoted in Stein (1982:162).

early colonial societies are classic examples of such processes

of historical creolization.

Some groups among the slaves and other settler populations

were able to preserve their heritage and identity of origin

because of their size or their relative proximity to theiroriginal

culture, and thus they created diaspora communities. Some

individuals were integrated into the ruling colonial society or

into local populations—mostly through marriage and reli-

gious conversion.6 However, because they were usually far

away from their homeland and their people, the large majority

of slaves were forced to reorient themselves in a foreign and

repressive environment. They were forced to develop new

alliances transcending specific ethnic and regional origins and

identities. Over time they created new social and cultural

forms that integrated characteristics of their various heritages

with the dominant colonial culture and the local culture. The

manner in which the various characteristics were integrated

depended on the size of the groups involved in the process

and their (relative) social and physical proximity to the co-lonial masters and, if applicable, the local groups (Herskovits

1990 [1941]; Mintz and Price 1992 [1976]; Patterson 1967,

1975, 1982).7

Because of the ongoing mixing of the various immigrant

groups, the distinction between indigenous and exogenous

became increasingly obsolete. Gradually, all people who de-

scended from relations between (former) slaves on the one

hand and between members of different heritages and skin

colors on the other were characterized as creole (cf. Stewart

2007). Also, the Creoles of European ancestry mixed both

among each other as well as with people of mixed and in-

digenous backgrounds. This led to a more pronounced social

hierarchy of creole individuals and groups based on the cri-terion of skin color (Garrigus 2006; Hall 1977; Khan 2004).

By contrast, criollo adapted an increasingly national con-

notation in Latin America from the early nineteenth century

onward by means of which a “mestizo nation” was propa-

gated. This strategy of “creolization from above” was opposed

to racial ideologies and policies gaining ground in Europe and

North America, but at the same time it excluded populations

from the national project that did not fit the mestizo—or

criollo —ideal, namely, indigenous populations of Indian de-

scent (cf. Palmié 2006; Stutzman 1981).

Creolization does not necessarily require a social environ-

ment in which large segments of the population are subju-

gated. However, historical processes of creolization were mostlikely to take place in societies in which extreme power asym-

metries and rigid social hierarchies were linked to color and

a person’s/group’s society of origin (cf. Bolland 1998, 2006;

6. For example, large parts of the Eurasian community in Batavia (now

Jakarta) came into being as a result of European men having children

with enslaved Indonesian women (see Knörr 2007; Taylor 1983).

7. Patterson (1975:318) differentiates between “synthetic” and “seg-

mentary” creolization, the former being a centripetal force that it is aimed

at the cultural unification of different groups, the latter being centrifugal,

aimed at the establishment of different group cultures and identities.


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ing by means of specific criteria, (b ) creolization as a process

must be distinguished from creoleness as a quality (resulting

from creolization), and (c ) creolization as a process must be

distinguished from creolization as a concept, the latter serving

as a tool to conceptualize and analyze the former.

Given the rather undifferentiated use of the term “creoli-

zation” to describe contemporary social and cultural pro-

cesses, some resistance has developed to the use of the term

to refer to anything but the historical context of slave exile.

Sidney Mintz comments,

But the term “creolization” . . . had been historically and

geographically specific. It stood for centuries of culture-

building, rather than culture mixing or culture blending, by

those who became Caribbean people. They were not be-

coming transnational; they were creating forms by which to

live, even while they were being cruelly tested physically and

mentally. (Mintz 1998:119)15

Mimi Sheller (2003) as well is “concerned with the way inwhich contemporary claims to mobility, hybridity, and cre-

ative cultural adaptation draw on Caribbean antecendents of

‘creolization,’ borrowed via the work of Caribbean diaspora

theorists, but gutted of many of the original connotations of

the term” (188), and Stephan Palmié (2007b ) believes that

“we would do well to probe the historical contextual signif-

icance of terms such as ‘creole’ before we prematurely elevate

them to the status of comparative—or in more contemporary

language, transculturally salient—analytical devices” (67).

It is clearly a mistake to use “creolization” interchangeably

with “transnationalism” (or with “syncretization,” “hybridi-

zation,” etc., for that matter).16 Nonetheless, this very valid

critique of the arbitrary use of the term does not provide agood enough reason to do away with the heuristic potential

of creole terminology for describing and analyzing contem-

porary processes of social and cultural interaction. This po-

tential may unfold when we look more carefully and more

comparatively at the different histories of creolization in dif-

ferent parts of the world and at the different social contexts

within which creole identities and terminologies emerged.

Rather than restricting the usage of the term “creolization”

or “creole” to a specific historical situation and region, we

15. For a recent discussion concerning such demands to limit the

creole terminology to historically specific phenomena, see also Cohen

and Toninato (2009).16. “Syncretization” refers to the mixing of belief systems or religions

that are otherwise unrelated (e.g., Voodoo). “Hybridization” is originally

derived from botany and zoology and denotes a process whereby humans

implant certain characteristics of one plant into another with the goal

of creating a plant with mixed characteristics. The plant itself has no

active role in steering this process. I find the use of the term “hybridi-

zation” inappropriate for characterizing the active process of cultural

change. Furthermore, the model of hybridization also implies a “pre-

hybridization purity,” which is pure fiction as regards the social and

cultural world (see Friedman 1994). “Transnationalism” refers to the

dynamics of socially bound ties across national borders(e.g., transnational

networks).

must specify what structurally differentiates creolization and

creole identities from other forms of social and cultural in-

teraction and identity formation. On the one hand, this will

allow us to better distinguish between different historical pro-

cesses and social contextualizations of creolization, and on

the other hand, it may enhance our understanding of con-temporary processes of interaction and identity formation in

postcolonial societies and beyond. This seems all the more

important given that such processes not only are becoming

increasingly common in our ever more complexly globalized

world but they also are becoming more differentiated. We

need to make use of the creole terminology because of its

potential for a more systematic and comparative analysis, con-

ceptualization, and differentiation of both historical and con-

temporary varieties of social and cultural interaction and of

the processes of identity formation related to them.17

Toward an Analytic-ComparativeConceptualization of Creoleness

To this day, opinions diverge even in the classic regions of

historical creolization on who should be considered a real

Creole nd why. In Louisiana, for example, some would char-

acterize only white people of European descent as real Creoles,

while others consider being mixed and being of color as typ-

ical creole features. Statements proposing a connection be-

tween skin color and creole identity reflect social classifica-

tions and ideologies concerning categories of race, ethnicity,

and culture prevalent in a given society.

Taking the example of Louisiana, it is very obvious thatbeing white is—however mistakenly—not usually associated

with being mixed.18 The implicit model of “pureness versus

mixture” links white skin with “pureness” and dark skin with

“mixture” despite the fact that a person with white skin may

be just as “mixed” as a person with dark skin. Race is thus

brought into the equation as a criterion by means of which

the existence of different classes of Creoles is asserted or cre-

oleness is distinguished from other identities.19 The common

reference to the fact that the word “creole” originally meant

the opposite of mixture often serves to assert that the “orig-

inal” Creoles—allegedly white—did not mix with blacks. The

17. Compare Eriksen (2007): “It is not sufficient to point out that

mixing does take place; it is necessary to distinguish between different

forms of mixing” (167). See also Cohen and Toninato (2009).

18. Friederici (1947), e.g., declares that Creoles are “the children of

pure-blooded European parents born in America” (220); cf. Stephens

(1983, 1999).

19. On the relationship between race, heritage, birth place, and culture

as criteria for creoleness, see Henry and Bankston (1998). Compare Hoff-

mann (2003) on the race connotations associated with “creole” and on

the relationship between creolization and national identity in Haiti.


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Knörr Contemporary Creoleness 735

attempt here is to dissociate white creoleness from the con-

notations of racial mixture (cf. Domı́nguez 1986).20

However, there is no subsistent connection between skin

color and creoleness, and the “Belles Creoles”—no matter

how white and beautiful—are in fact the product of mixing

among different immigrant groups who increasingly indigen-ized themselves by engaging in social and cultural exchange

among themselves and with their new environment. They

ultimately developed a new common culture and identity that

increasingly diverged from their different cultures and iden-

tities of origin.21 In the processes of creolization among dif-

ferent groups of people, Africans and Europeans influenced

each other. A number of sources describe the influence of

African culture on colonial European culture, often decrying

the result as creole decadence (Brathwaite 1971; Mintz and

Price 1992 [1976]).

In determining whether a group of people is creole or not,

the crucial question is not who mixed with whom, nor is it

relevant whether the group in question classifies itself as creole

or has an ethnonym that makes phonetic reference to cre-

oleness or not (e.g., Creole and Krio vs. Betawi or Martini-

quais). In order to engage in comparative research on cre-

oleness, one has to keep in mind that what is recognized as

creole from an etic perspective does not need to be recognized

or labeled as such from an emic perspective:22 “In order to

pursue such research, one must be prepared to consider sit-

uations as involving creolization even when the people con-

cerned do not use the terms ‘creole’ or ‘creolization’” (Stewart

2007:13).23 Conversely, we must also be prepared to describe

groups as noncreole despite the fact that they may have an

ethnonym that suggests creoleness.The discussions in the public sphere as well as among schol-

ars about the names of creole groups are of interest, however,

insofar as they provide insight into the ambivalences asso-

ciated with creole identities, particularly in postcolonial so-

cieties. This is true, for example, of the long debate over the

labeling of the creole population in Freetown (Sierra Leone)

as either Creole or Krio (Knörr 1995, 2007; Skinner and Har-

20. See Tregle (1992) on the “Belles Creoles” who choose to distinguish

themselves as “pure” and “white.” Tregle speaks of a creole mythology

based on the glorification of cultural and political accomplishments in

the past. See also Brasseaux (1990) on the roots of creole culture andidentity in Louisiana.

21. See Berlin (1998:105), who speaks of the emergence of a new

“nationality.”

22. “An emic model is one which explains the ideology or behaviour

of members of a culture according to indigenous definitions. An etic

model is one which is based on criteria from outside a particular culture.

Etic models are held to be universal; emic models are culture-specific”

(Barnard and Spencer 1996:180; cf. Headland, Pike, and Harris 1990).

23. Compare Eriksen (2007): “I propose a definition of cultural cre-

olization, thus, which is faithful to its linguistic origins, but which does

not restrict itself to societies where ‘creole’ is an emic term or where

linguistic creolization has taken place” (173).

rel-Bond 1977; Wyse 1979).24 This debate could be put to rest

given that both terms are correct: “Creole” designates the

group (the Krio) as creole in reference to the social and his-

torical context of its ethnogenesis and the ensuing creoleness

of its culture and identity, while “Krio” is the group’s eth-

nonym, which emerged in the process of its ethnogenesis.

Regarding efforts to determine whether a group is creole or

not, its name is irrelevant. Just as (socio)linguistic criteria are

applied to classify a language as a creole, (socio)cultural cri-

teria must be applied to classify a culture and identity as

creole.

Creole Continuity versus PostcreoleContinuum

Creolization and creoleness are discussed in various academic

disciplines. Social anthropology has looked particularly to the

approaches and concepts developed in creole linguistics and

has attempted to apply them to cultural phenomena thatemerge in the context of cultural interaction. One of the major

protagonists in this regard is Ulf Hannerz. His approaches

have been taken up and further developed in the works of

Eriksen, Knörr, and Stewart, among others.

The concept of a cultural postcreole or simply creole con-

tinuum is of particular relevance in Hannerz’s analysis of

complex and transnationally connected societies. He derived

it from linguistic theory that was introduced as a conceptual

instrument to deal with language variation existing between

creole languages and their respective superstrate(s)—that is,

the language(s)—that served as the standard speech model(s)

in processes of creolization.25 As a result of different forms

of interaction—which depend on economic, social, and de-mographic factors—creole languages vary in their proximity

to their respective superstrates.

A creole language is considered as decreolizing when stan-

dardizing toward the languages from which it is descended

by aligning its morphology, phonology, and syntax to it; a

24. Put simply, the term “Creole” is preferred by those Krio who like

to emphasize the colonial context in which their identity emerged and

their perceived closeness to European culture, while those Krio who

understand the local context of their ethnogenesis and the resulting in-

digenization as crucial prefer the term “Krio.”

25. Some of the scholars who introduced and worked with the concept

of a (post)creole continuum were Bickerton (1975), DeCamp (1971),

Dillard (1972), Rickford (1977, 1987), and Stewart (1965). They tried toavoid the normative assumptions underlying earlier work on pidgin and

creole languages (and dialects in general) by which the language spoken

by the ruling classes was defined as the correct or pure language while

the language spoken by the lower classes was considered an incorrect,

impure, or debased dialect. By introducing the terms “acrolect,” “me-

solect,” and “basilect,” this value judgment was to be avoided. However,

the focus concerning the study of pidgin and creole languages continued

to be on the (relative) input and share of the European language in

processes of creolization and in creole languages. The new terminology

also bears strong resemblance to notions of upper, middle, and lower

classes of languages (and people) as well as with core, semiperiphery,

and periphery nations (and nationals; cf. Chirot 1986; Wallerstein 1974).


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postcreole continuum refers to a decreolized creole still car-

rying some creole features. In combining the concept of a

creole continuum with approaches developed in world system

and dependency theory, Hannerz created a center-periphery

model that assumes a distribution continuum ranging from

cultural forms and features derived from the global metro-

poles—which he placed at the “center”—to purportedly local

and more traditional representations of culture—which he

placed at the “periphery” (Hannerz 1992, chaps. 7, 13; 1998

[1996], chap. 6; cf. Chirot 1986; Wallerstein 1974). The urban

culture of the periphery is conceptualized as the “semiperi-

phery” given that it is there that the culture of the center is

most widely disseminated.

Hannerz’s macroanthropological concept of a cultural con-

tinuum highlights local variation rather than global stan-

dardization of culture. It accounts for the changes and trans-

formations of cultural forms and features that occur in

processes of globalization. However, the concept does not

equally account for the meanings such cultural forms andfeatures acquire in the local society that incorporates and

transforms them. The latter can only be revealed by examining

how the characteristics in question are locally perceived, con-

ceptualized, and evaluated. I argue that Hannerz’s model and

conceptualization of center and (semi)periphery reflects the

perspective of the Western world (the North) more than it

questions and challenges it (cf. Knörr 2002b , 2007; Wallerstein

1974). To position cultural forms and features on a continuum

constructed from the perspective of the (self-proclaimed) cen-

ter is unlikely to obtain reliable insights concerning their local

meanings and social contextualizations.

In recent anthropological debates, a postcreole continuum

is understood as the cultural space in which creolization may continue to take place even after creole culture and identity

have been established and in which different variants of creole

culture and identity may exist: “The notion of postcreole

continuum . . . rejects absolute boundaries and instead high-

lights the existence of variations within a speech community.

However, this ‘postcreole continuum’ corresponds quite well

simply to the creolisation of culture, which does not lead to

stable uniformity, but is on the contrary an ongoing process”

(Eriksen 1999:16).

Correspondingly, a few years later, Eriksen (2007) inter-

preted the fact that in Mauritius, people with an indistinct

ethnic background are (also) considered members of the cre-

ole group to be proof of the existence of a postcreole con-tinuum in Mauritius. My view is that the phenomenon he

observed represents “postcreolization creoleness” or “creole

continuity” rather than a “postcreole continuum” situated

somewhere in between more clear-cut identities. It is not

creole that is over but creolization. Creoleness—creole culture

and identity—is a result of creolization. Because creole groups

emerged in the process of interaction and integration of dif-

ferent ethnic groups, they often—yet by no means always—

continue to have a high integrative potential as far as accepting

people of different ethnic backgrounds into their group is

concerned. Even after the actual process of creolization has

come to an end, this kind of integration is often facilitated

by the fact that members of indigenous groups had already

become part of the creole group in the course of historical

creolization—such as in the case of the Betawi in Jakarta,

which will be dealt with below. As a consequence, historical

ties were forged between creole and local groups, ties that

may have an integrative effect in the aftermath of the actual

process of creolization (Knörr 2007). However, this does not

imply that the intensity of ethnic identity is less pronounced

or less stable—or more “in-between”—than among noncreole

groups. Looking at Mauritius, Eriksen (2007) states that “Cre-

ole culture is perceived as stable and fixed. . . . At the same

time, the creole ethnic category is more open to new recruits

than other ethnic groups in the island” (174).

My own observations, particularly in Sierra Leone and In-

donesia, have shown that creole groups are often very open

to including people of different ethnic belongings. Yet at the

same time, they often expect the newcomers to give up theiroriginal identity entirely in return. While creole groups may

be open to new members, they may be considerably less open

to cultural variation. Such full incorporation and “conver-

sion” of outsiders served as a strategy of social reproduction

in the historical process of creole ethnogenesis. It enabled

creole groups to gain in group size and to develop and main-

tain a specific ethnic profile (cf. Schlee 2008).26 The latter was

also achieved by restricting membership in creole institutions

to Creoles and—to varying degrees—to people in the process

of being incorporated into the creole group. Thus, incorpo-

rating new members does not hint at a postcreole continuum

in the sense of producing in-between identities (like in-

between varieties of language situated between a creole and

a standard language). Rather, it hints at creole continuity as

a result of completed creolization by means of which both

the original ethnic identity as well as the “in-betweenness”

and “difference” of the newcomer is replaced by the ethnic

identity of the creole group in question.

However, when the social or political need arises, creole

groups and institutions are likely to open up and integrate

people across ethnic boundaries. Emphasizing the heteroge-

neous background of creole identity is part of this procedure.

The masonic lodges in Freetown are one such example of an

institution that used to have an exclusively Krio membership

but which has meanwhile opened up to “natives” irrespectiveof ethnic identities as a means and symbol of indigenization

and social reproduction. In Guinea-Bissau, Manjuandadi —

primarily female associations of mutual solidarity—and car-

nival used to be exclusively creole institutions.27 They, too,

became indigenized by means of transethnicization and are

26. Schlee (2008) deals with group size as a variable in processes of

inclusion and exclusion and shows how it may be instrumentalized and

modified in view of situational and contextual demands.

27. For an analysis of Manjuandadi ’s social functions and meanings,

see Trajano Filho (1998, 2001).


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symbols of national rather than exclusively creole identity

today.28 Such strategies of indigenizing and transethnicizing

creole institutions may allow creole identity to become a cat-

egory of social rather than ethnic ascription beyond the creole

group in question.

The ethnic quality of creole groups is often seen as am-biguous and somehow inferior because of their heterogeneous

origins. In societies, in which ethnic identity is an important

dimension of social identity of individuals and groups, creole

groups are therefore likely to emphasize the ethnic dimensions

of their identity and to force the full ethnic conversion and

incorporation of those who become part of their group. How-

ever, this does not preclude the existence of different sub-

categories within creole groups, which may be based on spec-

ificities of historical origin, class, skin color, and so forth.

Concerning creole group identity in ethnically heteroge-

neous societies today, the dynamics at play between open

boundaries and full incorporation demonstrate that historical

creolization tends to result in creole continuity—in creole-

ness—in that those who are integrated into a creole group

are provided with a new collective and, to different degrees,

ethnicized identity rather than in a postcreole continuum

perpetually generating in-betweenness.

Creoleness only persists as the result of creolization when

it makes sense socially. This often seems to be the case in

ethnically heterogeneous postcolonial societies in which eth-

nic identity is a relevant factor of social identity and where,

at the same time, there is a need for transethnic identifications.

In such contexts, creoleness may serve as a category of both

ethnic and transethnic identification and may thereby have

an integrative function, providing an ethnic home to peoplewho feel in need of one and a transethnic sense of mutual

belonging across ethnic boundaries because its heterogeneous

heritages linking it to different ethnic groups.

Creoleness may also become less important or even com-

pletely irrelevant if, for example, the construction of an ethnic

identity as well as the process of indigenization have been

completed to an extent where the original heterogeneity and

exogenesis of the creole group fall into oblivion. The once

“extraordinary” creole group may then mutate into just an-

other rather “ordinary” ethnic group. Creoleness may also

lose its social importance when heterogeneous origins are the

norm in a given society and Creoles are largely among them-selves. Creolization is one particular variant of “indigenization

plus ethnicization,” and creoleness often characterizes com-

paratively “young” ethnic groups, which neither precludes

that the latter may grow old with it nor that creoleness that

has fallen into oblivion may at some stage take on a new life

if the context and situation so necessitate.

28. Kohl (2009) deals with more recent developments of the Man-

juandadi ’s and of carnival’s roles in interethnic relations and for the

construction of transethnic identities.

Creolization and Creoleness beyond theCaribbean and the Indian Ocean

The fact that creolization and creole identities have mostly

been studied with regard to the Caribbean and to a lesser

extent the Indian Ocean has given rise to the impression that

these phenomena may foremost be Caribbean and Indian

Oceanic ones. For some time, the protagonists of Cre ́olite ´ —

a discourse originally developed among writers, artists, and

academics in the Francophone Caribbean and in the Carib-

bean diaspora in North America and Europe—marketed cre-

olization as a movement countering globalization.29 The latter

was associated with cultural homogenization and standardi-

zation from “above,” with exclusionary discourses of ancestry

and the suppression of cultural diversity (Glissant 2000). Cre-

olization, on the other hand, was considered a process by

means of which notions of purity, monolingualism, and uni-

versality were to be repudiated in favor of contact and di-

versity. The Cre ólite ´ movement’s understanding of creoliza-

tion was developed in conjunction with postcolonial

discourses. It assumes that as a result of increased contact

and mixture, new cultural forms and contents emerge that

are mixed and local instead of ethnic and national. As well,

ethnic, racial, and national categories of identification are

expected to be replaced by identifications with specific lo-

calities and their respective cultural representations.

As Khan has pointed out, “creolization serves as both a

model that describes historical processes of cultural change

and contact and an analytical tool that interprets them” (2007:

653; cf. Khan 2001). The conceptualization of Cre ólite ´ as a

postcolonial model of identity, however, seems to result not

so much from empirical analysis of social processes and dy-namics prevalent in the postcolonial Caribbean as from wish-

ful thinking—or, as Stewart has put it, “Their ‘model of’ is

thus already a ‘model for’ an idealized Créolité ready to be

recommended to the world” (2007:17)30—a model, I would

like to add, that also tends to neglect the difference between

cultural forms on the one hand and a given population’s

perception of and identification with them on the other.31

Anglophone scholars dealing with creolization tend to focus

more on the context-specific social meanings and functions

of the cultural forms and contents emerging from the process

29. Jean Barnabé, Edouard Glissant, and Derek Walcott are some of

the major representatives of this movement. See Enwezor et al. (2003).Compare Cohen and Toninato (2009), who analyze the notion of Cre ólite ́ ,

creolization, and hybridization in literary criticism and cultural studies.

See also Pausch (1996).

30. See also Khan (2007), who claims that “a kind of optimism un-

dergirds most understandings of the concept” (653) and that “roman-

ticized representations of agency in creolization discoursebelie thevarious

ways in which agents of creolization can themselves be multidimensional

or ambivalent about processes that observers celebrate” (654).

31. Many studies have been carried out on culturally mixed forms,

e.g., food, music, architecture, kinship systems, agriculture, clothing, re-

ligion, literature, and so forth. But these focus less on aspects of identity

than on material representations of cultural mixing.


9/30


of creolization (cf. Miller 1994:154).32 Creolization in their

view creates an identitarian—but not heritage-based—refer-

ence system within a specific social context by linking cultural

forms from a variety of sources. The emphasis lies on cre-

olization’s function for social integration rather than on its

potential for overcoming exclusionary discourses resulting

from colonial suppression (Miller 1994). The normative bent

of the Cre ́olite ´ movement is averted, yet the historical context

of creolization is equally disregarded, and creolization is no

longer understood and analyzed as a process of social and

cultural interaction embedded in specific social and historical

contexts. Instead, the perspective is narrowed down to the

(micro)level of cultural forms and to how individuals and

groups relate to them. As has already been pointed out, cre-

olization is distinct from other forms and processes of cultural

interaction because it involves indigenization and ethniciza-

tion in specific contexts whereby old boundaries are dissolved

yet new ones are produced. Thus, not everything Creoles do

counts, once and for all, as creolization. Even when creolegroups mix, this is only creolization if they replace their re-

spective creole identities with a new and common creole iden-

tity. Therefore, the Caribbean is a good example of historical

but not of contemporary creolization. The pan-Caribbean

identity propagated by some of the followers of Cre ´olite ´ largely

obscures the social realities of the Caribbean. Neither an

awareness of common (African) roots nor of the particular

Caribbean mix have led Jamaicans, Trinidadians, or Haitians

to dispose of their ethnic and national identities and to iden-

tify themselves instead as Caribbean or Antillean. This fact is

ignored by many Cre ´olite ´ proponents—including some aca-

demics.33 Although parts of the Caribbean population have

developed a Caribbean identity that transcends their ethnic

and national identities, it by no means replaces the various

identifications associated with certain islands, nations, and

ethnic categories—at most it complements them.34 In such

cases, ethnic and national identities are at most relativized

and transformed by new transethnic identifications, but they

are not replaced. Even within specific Caribbean as well as

Indian Ocean societies, particular groups are excluded rather

32. The established differences between the Anglophone and Fran-

cophone creolization discourses do not imply that all Francophone and

all Anglophone representatives will argue as described here. On the one

hand, these differences are often subtle and graduated, and on the other

hand, there are also representatives on both sides whose position leanstoward the other side.

33. Resistance to their model can provoke conflict as experienced by

Frank Moya Pons, who enraged members of the Caribbean Studies As-

sociation when he dared to assert that the various creole regions in the

Antilles differ more from one another than from the various European

countries, whose languages they had inherited (Hoffmann 2003).

34. Jamaican, Haitian, and Trinidadian identities, e.g., thus relate to

one another in a paradigmatic way—they are normallymutually exclusive

in that one can only be one or the other—whereas they relate to Carib-

bean identity in a syntagmatic way in that the latter may be shared by

Jamaicans, Haitians, and Trinidadians alike while existing in different—

e.g., Jamaican, Haitian, and Trinidadian—variations; see Schlee (2008).

than embraced, and social hierarchies tend to correlate with

ethnic backgrounds and degrees of pigmentation.35

Inasmuch as Caribbeanists have contributed to the under-

standing of creolization, they have at the same time also

sought to assert control over the meaning of creolization,

which they tend to regard as a concept native to their region

of expertise. This has been a hindrance to developing the

term’s heuristic potentials for the comparative analysis of his-

torical processes of creolization across different societies

worldwide as well as of the contemporary processes related

to them. Mine is not a Caribbeanist perspective. I—like Han-

nerz (1987), among others—consider creolization a process

not exclusive to any particular region, and it is my aim to

explore the social and political meanings of creolization and

creoleness beyond the Caribbean. I focus on postcolonial so-

cieties that are ethnically heterogeneous and where ethnic

identities are important dimensions of social identities of in-

dividuals and groups. It is particularly in such settings that

creole identities and processes relating to them assume im-portant social and political meanings and functions concern-

ing the construction and conceptualization of ethnic as well

as transethnic and national identities. This is due to the fact

that in the given societies, it is a social and political necessity

to acknowledge ethnic identities and cultural specificities in-

asmuch as there is a demand for identifications across ethnic

boundaries and cultural as well as religious differences.

Creolization versus Pidginization of Culture and Identity

By connecting the analysis of the historical semantics of thecreole terminology with sociolinguistic approaches to distin-

guish between creole and pidgin variants of language, I have

developed a conceptual framework that differentiates between

creole and pidgin variants of culture- and identity-related

processes. The Creolization versus Pidginization model (CvP

model) is meant to serve as a device for comparative studies

aimed at a differentiated analysis of identity formation taking

place in ethnically heterogeneous colonial and postcolonial

societies in particular. The following section will elucidate the

differences as well as the interrelatedness between creolization

and pidginization.

Like Mufwene (2001a , 2001b ), I consider both creolization

and pidginization social rather than structural processes—which, however, are likely to have structural implications. My

starting point for the development of the CvP model was a

particular debate in creole linguistics concerning the differ-

entiation of creole and pidgin variants of language on the

35. There is an abundance of literature concerning exclusionary strat-

egies and the correlation between pigmentation and social classification

in Caribbean societies. Concerning some more recent publications, see

the contributions in Shepherd and Richards (2002) and in Collier and

Fleischmann (2003); see also Miles (1999) concerning the case of Mau-

ritius.


10/30


basis of sociofunctional rather than linguistic differences.36

The latter were not denied but were not taken as criteria for

distinguishing between creoles and pidgins. With regard to

the differentiation between creole and pidgin variants of lan-

guage, Gilman’s argument that “ethnic reference” should be

considered the most significant criterion of differentiationplays a major role:

What is clearly true in Cameroon is that Pidgin is the lan-

guage of reference for no ethnic group. . . . In view of the

confusion between the language of ethnic reference and the

first learned language, and of the fact that in multilingual

environments there is often no real first language, it would

be better to replace the traditional distinction between cre-

olized and pidginized languages as in one case . . . the “native

language” of a group of people and in the other case . . .

not. It would be better to recognize that Creoles, such as

that of Sierra Leone, are languages of ethnic reference, while

Pidgins, such as that of Cameroon, are not. (Gilman 1979:274)37

Let us think back to the explications on historical creoli-

zation above and link them with Gilman’s arguments. Lin-

guistic creolization is a process in the course of which the

characteristics of different languages develop into a new com-

mon language that adopts ethnic reference for its speakers

and replaces the original ethnic languages and/or their re-

spective ethnic references.38 Linguistic pidginization also leads

to a new common language, but in contrast, this process is

not linked to the replacement of ethnic languages (as lan-

36. Only such aspects of linguistic theory are discussed and applied

where they may help to elucidate the social and cultural processes and

phenomena under study here. It is beyond the scope of this article to

explore the relationship between differences in social functions and dif-

ferences in linguistic structures with regard to creole and pidgin lan-

guages. Neither is it the aim of this article to validate or dismiss linguistic

theory. See Palmié (2006, 2007a , 2007b ) for some recent examples of

critical disputes concerning interdisciplinary transferences and circular

reasoning in theories of creolization and creoleness (referring, in partic-

ular, to history, linguistics, and anthropology).

37. See also Mufwene (2001a , 2001b ), according to whom creoles and

pidgins developed in different social contexts; i.e., creoles developed in

settlement colonies and pidgins in trade colonies. Pidgins were used as

contact languages among users who preserved their native languages tocommunicate among themselves. Creoles gradually came to be used as

everyday vernaculars among slaves and servants and replaced their orig-

inal mother tongues. Compare Alleyne (1971, 1980). Also, see Gilman

(1979:274–276) for further explications. I would like to add that Krio,

the creole language spoken in Sierra Leone, has ethnic reference for the

Creoles (Krio) only, while for others it is a lingua franca and often also

a mother tongue yet without having ethnic reference. In this sense, Krio

has both a creole and a pidgin variant (see Knörr 1995).

38. The languages that serve as the basis for a new creole language

may continue to exist, but they are usually no longer spoken by the group

that is undergoing cultural and linguistic creolization and/or no longer

serve as languages of ethnic reference.

guages of ethnic reference).39 Accordingly, and in a reasonably

simplified manner, cultural creolization can be conceptualized

as a process creating a new common culture with ethnic ref-

erence in specific social and historic contexts of ethnic and

cultural diversity. On the one hand, new representations of a

new common culture are produced, and old, handed-downones are recontextualized and transformed. On the other

hand, the different identities of origin of those undergoing

creolization are increasingly replaced by a new common iden-

tity linked to (narratives of) a common territory and new

home, a particular history and heritage, specific origins, and

social and cultural particularities. Creolization implies not

only the amalgamation of diverse cultural forms and features

but also the latter’s ethnicization by a diverse group of people

undergoing ethnogenesis, the result being new cultural rep-

resentations plus a new ethnic identity associated with them.

Cultural pidginization, on the other hand, can be concep-

tualized as a process over the course of which a common

culture and identity are developed in specific contexts of eth-

nic and cultural diversity as well, yet in contrast to creoli-

zation, this process does not involve ethnicization. No new

ethnic group is formed, and original identities based on the

heritages of their protagonists remain in existence (Knörr

1995:10–24).

In response to some of my ideas on this subject, Stewart

(2006) holds that “we might recast Hannerz’ world in cre-

olization as a world in pidginization since Nigerians retain

their indigenous culture and do not forget or lose it as they

engage with global flows” (118). Hannerz’s Creoles increase

their identifications and language competencies without nec-

essarily leaving home, without abandoning much, withoutgiving up their ethnic identities—hence, they pidginize rather

than creolize.

Unlike in colonial settler and slave societies, it is cultural

pidginization rather than creolization that dominates in pro-

cesses of identity formation in contemporary postcolonial so-

cieties. This is largely due to today’s communication and

transportation technologies, which facilitate social contacts

and ties over long distances and periods of time (Knörr 1994a ,

1994b , 1995, 2000, 2007). However, we have to keep in mind

that what we observe as cultural pidginization in contem-

porary society today may (partially) result in processes of

creolization in the long run. Whether or not creolization hastaken place can only be determined when the process is largely

completed. Up to this point, creolization may look like pid-

ginization. It generally takes longer for a new ethnic identity

to take shape than it does to create new common cultural

representations and transethnic identifications.

39. Ethnic identity does not necessarily rely on ethnic language com-

petence. One can be a Temne, e.g., without speaking Temne. However,

the perceived authenticity of ethnic identity may suffer as a result (see

Knörr 1995). See Schlee (2001) concerning the variation in the relation-

ship between language and ethnicity.


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Pidginization Beats Creolization: SomeEthnographic Flesh

Depending on the particularities of their social and political

contextualization in society at large, creole identities that

emerged in the colonial past may have a profound impact on

ethnic relations and on the conceptualization and construc-

tion of transethnic and national identifications in the post-

colonial present as both facilitating and obstructive forces.40

In the following I would like to give an insight into some of

the social and political dynamics concerning creole identities’

roles and functions in such processes.

I will deal with two ethnographic examples of creole iden-

tity, namely, with Betawi identity in Jakarta, Indonesia, and

with Krio identity in Freetown, Sierra Leone.41 I will focus on

the role of creole identity for the conceptualization and con-

struction of transethnic identity more generally and postco-

lonial nationhood more specifically, highlighting how differ-

ent social and political conditions and contextualizations of creole identity determine its social potentials and limitations.

Betawi Identity in Jakarta

Jakarta is one of the so-called megacities of the world, with

a socially and culturally highly diversified population of

around 9 million.42 Contrasts are marked, and they are very

visible. In the framework of my research in Jakarta, I have

been dealing with the integration and differentiation of ethnic,

local, and national identity and, more specifically, with iden-

tifications related to the categories Orang Betawi, Orang Ja-

karta, and Orang Indonesia.43

Orang Betawi—or just Be-tawi—and Orang Jakarta are the two identity-related

categories Jakartan culture and identity are ascribed to and

by means of which the latter are differentiated. Orang Betawi

is considered a primarily yet not exclusively ethnic category,

and Orang Jakarta a primarily yet not exclusively transethnic

category. Both Orang Betawi and Orang Jakarta are related,

although in different ways, to the concept of Orang Indonesia,

referring to the national context. All these categories are

closely interrelated and overlapping in ascriptions and bound-

aries. Their social, cultural, and political dynamics can only

be understood if studied in their interrelatedness. At the very

center of these processes is a specific group of people—the

40. See Anderson (1999 [1994]) on the role of Creole Pioneers in the

construction of nationhood.

41. I have been doing research in and on Jakartasince 1999. My longest

periods of field research there were between 2000 and 2003. I conducted

14 months of field research in Freetown between 1990 and 1992. I did

not go to Sierra Leone during the war, but I have continued my research

since it ended in 2002.

42. This figure is based on the publications distributed by the Badan

Pusat Statistik /Central Board of Statistics. Unofficially, there are a few

million more people living in Jakarta.

43. Orang is one of the Indonesian classifiers and denotes what follows

as human(like).

(Orang) Betawi—and the concepts of culture and identity

related but not restricted to them.

The Betawi came into being through processes of creoli-

zation during the time of Dutch colonialism, when Jakarta

was called Batavia. A considerable proportion of their ances-

tors had been exiled to Batavia from different south andsoutheast Asian regions from the seventeenth century onward,

areas that had been conquered by the Dutch from the Por-

tuguese (Abeyasekere 1983, 1989). Many were later brought

to Batavia from Bali and other islands of the Indonesian ar-

chipelago to serve as slaves and soldiers for the Dutch col-

onizers and as servants for other influential foreign popula-

tions such as the Chinese (Taylor 1983). Creolization set in

among them, which—with the growth of Batavia and its “sub-

urbia,” the so-called Ommelanden (environment)—included

more and more people belonging to different ethnic groups

of local decent, thereby enforcing the process of indigenization

among the group as a whole.

The Dutch tried to administer and settle the population of Batavia along ethnic categories but abandoned this strategy

in 1828 because of its inefficiency. During the same period

of time, the slave trade ceased. These changes generally in-

creased interethnic contact and mixture in Jakarta and beyond

but also enhanced the process of creolization that was already

taking place.44 In the course of time, people participating in

this process—people who used to identify as Sundanese, Am-

bonese, Balinese, Chinese, and so forth—came to identify as

Betawi. Because the Dutch had expelled the indigenous Ja-

vanese population from Batavia for fears of rebellions, it was

the Betawi who came to be considered the indigenous people

of Jakarta, the new “orang asli” of Jakarta. The people in-volved in this process were mostly slaves, servants, and work-

ers, many of them on rice fields. Thus, creolization, as in the

American slave societies, was a process resulting from the

interaction among people who for the most part belonged to

the same social class.

For the large majority of those becoming Betawi who did

not belong to the local population, creolization implied in-

digenization by means of Islamization.45 Islamization had

been a major strategy of indigenization of foreign populations

(such as the Chinese) long before colonialism started (Knörr

2009b ). During colonial times, being Muslim within Batavia

and its Ommelanden also set people apart from the colonizers

and from those who came as close as possible to them by means of Protestantism, formal education, European lifestyle,

and so forth, which was common among many Eurasians,

the offspring of largely European men and Indonesian

44. See Raben (2000) for an analysis of colonial structures and inter-

ethnic relations in Batavia.

45. There are small minorities of Christians and Buddhists who con-

sider themselves Betawi. They are perceived with skepticism by the large

majority of Muslim Betawi. On the one hand, the Betawi want to appear

inclusive; on the other, only Muslims are considered “real” Betawi (see

Knörr 2007, 2009b ; Shahab 1994).


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women.46 Today, around 2.5 million people in Jakarta consider

themselves Betawi together with another 2.5 million in the

neighboring communities.47

The Betawi were long considered to be backward, unwilling

to modernize, and antiurban. As slaves and servants, they had

had little access to modern education and stuck to their

traditions and to their Muslim faith more than those in closer

contact with the colonial elite and their educational system.

Concerning education, the Betawi preferred to send their chil-

dren to so-called Pesantren , a sort of boarding school dedi-

cated to the teaching of Islam. Consequently, the Betawi, with

few exceptions, were not among the Indonesian elite after

independence had been achieved in 1949. The latter were

mostly of Javanese origin, while some came from other islands

of the Indonesian archipelago (Castles 1967; van Niel 1960).

In the following two decades, the desire to develop a unique

Indonesian national identity dampened reflections on the re-

cent colonial past and its unpleasant reminders, including the

Betawi and their slavery-related background. Instead, a pre-colonial golden age was constructed largely by means of em-

ploying concepts of common religious and spiritual origin

that were meant to serve as a source of national identity. Thus,

after almost 350 years of foreign domination, the early post-

colonial leaders of Indonesia defined Indonesia in largely pre-

colonial terms. Whether it is the postcolonial construction of

a precolonial Indonesian “spirit,” colonial boundaries, or

shared experiences of colonialism and independence that have

had a larger share in the construction of Indonesian national

identity, by the early 1960s, Benedict Anderson (1999 [1994]:

10) noted that all his Indonesian acquaintances perceived

themselves as Indonesians despite the fact that at the begin-

ning of the century, the term “Indonesia” had not even ex-isted.

During the early postcolonial years, especially the urban

Betawi, the so-called Betawi Kota, were likely to hide their

Betawi identity in public because of the negative stereotypes

attributed to them. Interethnic contact was common, and

given the diversity of the Betawi’s historical background, they

often ascribed themselves to one of the other ethnic groups

in order to decrease social discrimination and achieve upward

social mobility. However, since the late 1960s, the government

of the city of Jakarta has changed its attitude toward the

Betawi, who have since received special attention and pro-

motion. There are a lot of different means through which the

revival and (re)construction of Betawi culture and identity are enhanced. Research concerning their culture was initiated,

46. Many Eurasians left Indonesia for the Netherlands in the wake of

independence, when they experienced prosecution and discrimination

because of their proximity to the colonial masters. Today, they are called

Indische Nederlanders . Concerning their history, see Bosma, Raben, and

Willems (2006) and Coté and Westerbeek (2005); see also Poeze (1986).

47. The census for Jakarta conducted by the Badan Pusat Statistik /

Central Board of Statistics in 2000 used self-ascription as the only cri-

terion to define people’s ethnic identity. See Suryadinata, Nurvidya Arifin,

and Ananta (2003) for a critical assessment of the figures presented.

and steps were taken to promote their (folk) culture (Wijaya

1976). Special residential areas were reserved for them in order

to enable them to maintain their customs and to enhance the

practice of their traditions (Budiati 2000). During festivities

related to Jakarta—such as the Hari Ulang Tahun Jakarta ,

Jakarta’s birthday—Betawi dances, drama, and music are per-formed throughout the city, sponsored by the city govern-

ment. Every year a contest—None dan Abang Jakarta , Miss

and Mister Jakarta—is organized by the governor of Jakarta,

a competition all young Jakartans irrespective of their ethnic

identity can partake in but within which all candidates must

prove considerable knowledge of Betawi traditions as well as

of Jakartan history, society, and politics in general (Knörr

2002b ).

The Betawi as Symbols of Bhinneka Tunggal Ika (Unity in Diversity)

How did this change of heart concerning the Betawi come

about? Is it related to their creole background, and if so, how?

Some 20 years after independence had been achieved, it had

become all too obvious that ethnic and religious conflict had

not ceased in Indonesia and that postcolonial nationhood

needed more powerful and contemporary symbols than the

supposedly precolonial heritage of common mythology that

Sukarno, the first president of Indonesia, was conjuring. It

was then that a reevaluation of the colonial past commenced.

As a result of these reflections, state institutions discovered

the specific social and political potentials that lay in the creole

concept of Betawi group identity and culture with regard tothe promotion of transethnic, local, and national identity.

There are different reasons for this potential, particularly in

the multiethnic and postcolonial context of the national cap-

ital Jakarta.

One reason is that during the processes of creolization,

many features of the different local cultures—both foreign

and indigenous in origin—were incorporated into the emerg-

ing culture of the Betawi. This made it possible, and it still

does, even for those not belonging to the Betawi in terms of

ethnicity, to identify partly with Betawi culture because traces

of their own respective ethnic culture can easily be identified

as being part of it. Common history is also represented insofaras some of the forefathers of the Betawi were at some stage

in history also forefathers of those who did not become cre-

olized—who did not become Betawi—but maintained their

identity of origin instead.

Another reason, which is more important politically, is that

as a creole group the Betawi represent both a multitude of

ethnicities because of their historical background and, at the

same time, the capacity to create a single group and a common

identity on the basis of ethnic diversity. This twofold repre-

sentation fits the national motto of Bhinneka Tunggal Ika


13/30


(Unity in Diversity) very well, which is a vital element of the

Pancasila , the five principles of the Indonesian state ideology.48

Thus, through the Betawi, it can be demonstrated that eth-

nic diversity does not need to prevent the development of

common identity. On the contrary, the Betawi can function

as a proof that Unity in Diversity can actually work. In the

same way they integrated the different ethnocultural features

of their diverse backgrounds and became the Betawi—so the

message goes—the different ethnic groups of Indonesia are

supposed to become one Orang Indonesia, a people united

by a national culture that integrates the elements of different

ethnic traditions in a peaceful and fruitful manner. In post-

colonial Indonesia, which is up to date torn by ethnic and

religious conflict and strife, the Betawi can therefore be put

into the context of transethnic national integration and func-

tion as a counterbalance to the fear of national disintegration.

There is another reason for the attractiveness of Betawiness,

particularly with regard to the promotion of national iden-

tity.49

The Betawi are not only mixed in origin, they are alsonot Javanese and therefore do not belong to the group that

has long been dominant in Indonesian society and politics.

This Javanese dominance has been diminishing lately because

of the democratization, liberalization, and decentralization of

the Indonesian political system, but the desire to counter-

balance the Javanization of Indonesia and its capital Jakarta

is still in existence among non-Javanese.

By promoting a creole group and culture, the state cannot

only disarm accusations that it is promoting the political Ja-

vanization of Indonesia, it can do so without fostering a feel-

ing of neglect among other ethnic groups. Because the Betawi

are mixed in origin, their culture can be perceived and en-

dorsed as encompassing the different ethnic traditions of In-donesia, making it possible for all ethnic groups to identify

at least with their ethnic share in it. Thus, Betawi culture and

identity can represent and communicate both ethnic and tran-

sethnic dimensions of identity at the same time. As such, it

is instrumentalized and manipulated by state institutions in

manifold ways as a means to enhance Jakartan and Indonesian

identity and to lessen interethnic conflict. An official brochure

published by the governor states that “In Jakarta, the Orang

Betawi—the natives of the city—are the hosts of the different

cultures living in Jakarta, having emerged from the melting

48. The Pancasila (five principles) serve as the foundation for the

Indonesian state doctrine. They were included in the preamble of theconstitution in 1945 and declared as the prime principles of all mass

organizations and parties in 1985. They comprise (1) belief in the al-

mighty God (monotheism), (2) a just and civilized mankind, (3) the

unity of Indonesia, (4) democracy based in Indonesian village democracy,

and (5) social justice for all Indonesians. Concerning Indonesian na-

tionalism and the relationship between ethnic diversityand national iden-

tity in Indonesia, see Bertrand (2004), Darmaputera (1988), Drake (1989),

Hubinger (1992), Knörr (2007, 2009a ), Moosmüller (1999), and Wandelt

(1988).

49. The term “Betawiness” is sometimes used particularly among the

urban youth and elite to refer to both ethnic and transethnic dimensions

and representations of Betawi culture, identity, and lifestyle.

pot of races, ethnic groups, and cultures of Indonesia in the

19th century.” A prominent promoter of Betawiness said to

me that “They are like gado-gado [Betawi dish, comprising

different vegetables and peanut sauce]—mixed in its ingre-

dients, and due to this mixture a very delicious and unique

meal. Like Indonesia, many different cultures that together

make a wonderful Indonesia. The Betawi are themselves what

Indonesia should also be: diverse in their origins, but united

as Indonesians.”

Betawi identity has thrived far beyond state ideology,

namely, as a local expression of Jakartan identity particularly

among people with little ethnic attachment beyond Jakarta—

an ever-increasing number of Jakartans, that is—and as a

specifically Jakartan expression of national identity. Having

the status as Jakarta’s original inhabitants, the Betawi also

supply the nation’s capital and megacity, Jakarta, with indig-

enous and ethnic tradition without which a territory is not

conceived of as a real social place in Indonesia. Through the

Betawi, transethnic Jakartan identity can be ethnically sub-stantiated. Conversely, ethnic (Betawi) identity can be tran-

sethnicized: as the ethnic dimension of Betawiness is con-

structed within the context of a creole concept of culture and

identity, everyone in Jakarta can—at least to some degree—

identify with it irrespective of different ethnic backgrounds.

The fact that the Betawi territory is at the same time the

national center of Indonesia helps to attach national meanings

and functions to Betawi culture and identity. The more that

Betawi goes along with territorial and local awareness, the

more pronounced the Betawi’s identification as both Jakartans

and Indonesians, and the stronger they are identified as Ja-

karta’s locals—the nation’s capital’s locals, that is—by others.

One example illustrates this observation.When in 2001 thousands of Indonesians from East Java

threatened to overrun Jakarta in an attempt to prevent the

overthrow of President Wahid, the urban Betawi organized

gangs of traditional Betawi militia to defend their city against

the intruders. The Betawi presented themselves both as de-

fenders of their town and territory and as defenders of the

national interest. While heavy tanks and thousands of soldiers

and policemen filled the streets and guarded the parliamentary

buildings, Betawi “warriors,” wearing traditional uniforms

and weaponry, presented themselves as their indigenous coun-

terparts. One of those “warriors” said to me: “We as Betawi

have to defend our town. We own this town and because of

that we have to make sure that everybody can feel safe here.We don’t want outsiders to damage Jakarta’s reputation. This

is important for the whole of Indonesia because Jakarta is the

Indonesian capital.”

In the context of Betawi-ing Jakarta and nationalizing the

Betawi, there has also been a shift in attitude concerning the

role the Betawi played during the time of Dutch colonization

and in the struggle for independence. The Betawi and their

role in the anticolonial movement were largely ignored by the

early postcolonial elite, who celebrated themselves as the

emancipators of the Indonesian nation and mind. However,


14/30


since the late 1960s, when it had become clear that postco-

lonial nation building could not be built on merely precolonial

mysticism, the Betawi were discovered and revalued as a group

that maintained Indonesian tradition and self-respect even in

the heyday of colonization and thereby set the path for

(re)gaining pride in being Indonesian. In that context, tales

of Betawi anticolonial heroism were invented or rather rein-

vented and brought into the public sphere. For example, the

legend of Si Pitung —a famous Betawi hero who is claimed

to have fought and discomfited the Dutch by using his spir-

itual powers and ingenious cleverness and wit—served as the

basis for films, television spots, comics, and theater produc-

tions (Ali 1993; Koesasi 1992; van Till 1995). In 2002, a com-

petition among teachers in Jakarta was carried out that called

for essays dealing explicitly with Betawi contributions in the

fight against colonialism and the endeavor of nation building.

The Betawi have increasingly recognized the social and po-

litical potentials of Betawi identity and culture and make use

of their new (privileged) status by eagerly reinterpreting whoand what is Betawi.50 On the one hand, intraethnic differences

are emphasized to show the multitude and wealth of Betawi

culture. On the other hand, the Betawi have become more

integrative insofar as Betawi subgroups who have been de-

nying each other the status as “real” Betawi have become more

inclined to be mutually inclusive. Many among the urban and

well-to-do Betawi, the so-called Betawi Kota, used to reject

the Betawi Pinggir, who live a more traditional life on the

outskirts of Jakarta. However, in recent years they have often

emphasized the latter’s authenticity (rather than their pro-

claimed backwardness, as before). The Betawi Pinggir have,

after all, the expertise concerning Betawi traditions that need

to be known and practiced in public to enforce one’s statusas Jakarta’s “orang asli.” Conversely, the Betawi Pinggir who

used to look down on the Betawi Kota for their proclaimed

lack of traditional authenticity now tend to see them in a

more positive light, the latter being, after all, the spearheads

in the process of promoting the Betawi as a whole. Thus, it

seems, the different Betawi groups are joining forces in a

mutually beneficial and reciprocal manner (Knörr 2007; cf.

Shahab 1994).

Many Indonesians of Chinese background now also claim

Betawi identity. The strong connections that have always ex-

isted between the Chinese and the Betawi facilitate such a

conversion, which, however, is also taken as a measure against

the sort of discrimination the Chinese have suffered ever sincethey inhabited Indonesia. They join Betawi associations and

actively take part in the development of Betawi arts and the

promotion of Betawi tradition in public (see Knörr 2009b ).

The Betawi tend to welcome such newcomers to gain in size

and thereby increase their (political) influence.

Some of the transethnic connotations of Betawi or Beta-

winess positively relate to the notion of mixture as such de-

50. See Shahab (1994, 1997) on internal differentiations among the

Betawi.

spite the fact that many of the more traditional Betawi of

today are on the whole not considered very dynamic, and

you often hear people say that “those Betawi always stay

among themselves.” This shows that creolization does not

necessarily involve a continuous process of interaction and

interethnic mixture but can indeed come to an end. However,

the concept of culture and identity underlying creole eth-

nogenesis may remain effective by being reconfigured and

recontextualized to comply with a contemporary need, which

is, in the case of Jakarta, a need for both ethnic and transethnic

identifications within the contemporary urban, multiethnic,

and highly dynamic setting of Jakarta and Indonesia. As one

Betawi put it, referring to the Betawi’s need to “gain in size”

to achieve more political influence, “We should open up to

other ethnic groups. After all, that’s what Betawi was all about

in the first place, we accommodated people from different

backgrounds. We should re-discover our integrative poten-

tials.”

Betawi creoleness has developed a pidgin dimension in thecontext of Jakarta in that Jakartans of different ethnic back-

grounds may retain their respective ethnic identity and at the

same time identify with Betawi identity through their ethnic

share in it. People may also identify with Betawi identity by

identifying with the latter’s transethnic dimension as such,

which is based in its historical diversity of origin and its

rootedness in the given locality that is felt to be home and

that people identify with as Jakartans. Betawi identity then

functions as a category of transethnic identification that is

verbally expressed by people labeling themselves as Betawi

baru (new Betawi) or Orang Jakarta—the latter notion having

both an ethnic connotation, linking it to the Betawi, and a

transethnic connotation, linking it to Jakarta. Depending onthe context and situation, these connotations may overlap in

ascription and may be used interchangeably—by people iden-

tifying as Orang Jakarta both ethnically and transethnically—

or in a mutually exclusive manner—by people identifying as

Orang Jakarta either ethnically or transethnically.

Because of its creole background and its location in the

capital of an extremely heterogeneous postcolonial nation,

Betawi culture and identity has been serving as a symbol of

Bhinneka Tunggal Ika for quite some time and as such has

represented the complexity of Jakarta and Indonesia. The Be-

tawi’s alienation from state institutions used to be quite pro-

nounced because of the low social status attributed to them

and because of the social discrimination they had suffered inthe years preceding and following independence. However, as

a result of their increased awareness of both the neglect they

had formerly encountered and of their social and political

potential as the rediscovered “orang asli” of Jakarta, their

engagement has become more and more politicized. For many

years, the big Betawi organizations have been promoting

prominent Betawi figures to become governor of Jakarta. They

claimed that as the original inhabitants of Jakarta, one of

them should become the official representative of the nation’s

capital. Thus, as a result of the cultural promotion of Beta-


15/30


winess, the Betawi have become less and less willing to func-

tion merely as cultural representatives of Jakarta’s traditional

past and have increasingly resolved to play an active role in

present day politics both on the local and national level. With

the election of Fauzi Bowo as the first Betawi governor of

Jakarta in 2007, the Betawi have gained momentum, making

a considerable move from being symbolic gatekeepers of his-

torical tradition to being active stakeholders in contemporary

political power, at least on the local level. Jakarta being the

nation’s capital, this local achievement also bears national

meaning.

Krio Identity in Freetown, Sierra Leone

In Freetown, Sierra Leone, there is also a creole group—

namely the Krio—that plays an important role in contem-

porary processes of identity formation. Freetown was estab-

lished by British philanthropists as the Province of Freedom

and declared a British crown colony in 1808. The Krio’s an-

cestors arrived there between the end of the eighteenth cen-

tury and the beginning of the nineteenth century and con-

sisted of different groups of former slaves who had been freed

from slavery in America and of so-called liberated slaves, who

were rescued from slave ships bound for the Americas. 51

The Krio-Native Divide

These different groups of people from diverse ethnic and

regional backgrounds passed through a process of creoliza-

tion, developing a rather exclusive identity as Krio. The elite

among them were put in charge as missionaries, teachers, and

civil servants by the British to Christianize and “civilize” the

local population—in Sierra Leone and across West Africa

(Fyfe 1962; Knörr 1995; Peterson 1969). Because of their priv-

ileged position in colonial society, many Krio developed a

re

Documents

Knörr_2010_Contemporary Creoleness_ or, The World in Pidginization