Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue

In her article "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" Kathleen Gallagher analyzes the epistemological and ethical implications created by representations of Self and portrayals of Other in two apparently different ethnographic texts, R.F. Fortune's Sorcerers of Dobu and Kevin Dwyer's Moroccan Dialogues. Specific attention is paid to the authors' portrayal of themselves and the observed and the ramifications of such portrayals in the construction of anthropological knowledge. Dwyer's work was a reaction to what he perceived as anthropology's traditional muting of other voices, an alternative to such denigration being the incorporation of dialogue into one's methodology. Gallagher describes Dwyer's project in more detail and situates it theoretically within interpretive and hermeneutic paradigms in postmodern literature. Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 2 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): Kathleen M. GALLAGHER Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue In 1928, R.F. Fortune disembarked from the freighter that transported him from England to the Trobriand Island of Dobu in Melanesia. While residing on this British protectorate during the height of British imperialism, Fortune recorded his observations of Dobuan life guided by the tutelage provided by his mentor Bronislaw Malinowski. Within four years Fortune had created the text that would be his life's work, Sorcerers of Dobu: The Social Anthropology of the Dobu Islanders of the Western Pacific, a monograph whose "detailed information" and "detached generalizations" Malinowski, in his preface to the book, deemed of "permanent value" and "above any criticism ... for anthropological work of the functional school" (xxx-xxxii). Almost fifty years later, Kevin Dwyer set foot in the Moroccan village of Ouled Filali in 1975. While living in a country previously colonized by the French and peripheral to an increasingly volatile situation in the Middle East, Dwyer transcribed a series of conversations with a Moroccan Faqir. Moroccan Dialogues appeared in 1982, a text inspired by both the interpretive paradigms of Clifford Geertz, Pierre Bourdieu, and the criticism of "Western" productions of knowledge provoked by Talal Asad and Edward W. Said. By both reflecting upon his role as anthropologist and attempting to give primacy to the textual voice of the Faqir, Dwyer's dialogues profess to address everything from the transgressions of Western hegemony to a dissatisfaction with traditional anthropology, specifically the marginalization and even silencing of the Other that characterizes most forms of anthropological inquiry (Dwyer xv-xvii). Much of the development of theories of anthropology can be described as an effort to negotiate the relationship between the anthropologist and members of the culture chosen for study. Designations for this relationship -"European and savage" (Malinowski), "insider and outsider" (Pike), "Self and Other" (Dwyer) -are as varied as the means of negotiating it. Such designations may be unconscious reflections of academic fashions or intentional rhetorical devices devised to challenge intellectual and historical trends, as well as power relationships underlying the production of knowledge. According to George E. Marcus and Dick Cushman, pioneers such as Malinowski utilized "us-them" comparisons to "legitimize a fledgling discipline to a Euro-American public" while more recent ethnographies have highlighted this dichotomy as a "genre convention of representing difference and especially difference that pertains to native subjectivity (48-49). Anthropologists continue to struggle with portrayals of Self and representations of the Other for the placement and subsequent voice afforded these two entities both in the field, as well as in the text has significant epistemological and ethical implications (in my study I refer to the anthropologist as "Self" and "Other" designates members of the culture under study). Dwyer's work was a reaction to what he perceived as anthropology's traditional muting of the Other's voice, an alternative to such denigration being the incorporation of dialogue into one's methodology. In the last portion I discuss Dwyer's project in more detail and situate it theoretically within interpretive and hermeneutic paradigms in postmodern literature. Evaluated according to his own goals, this section also illustrates why Dwyer's mission was only partially successful. The foundations and scaffolding of anthropological knowledge begin with the tools we bring to the cultural materials culled from the field and later fashioned into an ethnographic text, hence the significance of fieldwork encounters. In addition to epistemological considerations, concrete descriptions of field interactions ground the sometimes confusing and speculative task of identifying voices and portrayals in the text. While describing the field encounter, I pay special attention to the command of some of the technical skills of ethnographic research such as language skills and cultural familiarity, research methods, and the form of the interaction itself. According to Hans-Georg Gadamer, these cultural tools demarcate the distance between the researcher and the people under study, carve out identities for one another and consequently amplify or muffle voices in the text. Fortune spoke Dobuan "fluently," a skill he acquired by "contagion" in three months (xl, 254). His techniques of data collection were apparently commensurate with his language skills in light of the detail and volume of his findings in the course of his six-month study, but no description of the methodology is provided. Fortune's level of cultural familiarity is difficult to place. On a purely descriptive level his depictions of rituals, incantations, etc., display an admirable breadth of knowledge; his discussion of kinship systems and gardening are particularly laudable, tediousness notwithstanding. Given his familiarity with Dobuan culture, Fortune's frequent breaches of trust and social etiquette are troubling, such as when he disclosed specifics of Dobuan sexual activity to their neighboring Trobrianders in spite of requests not to do so. In Fortune's own words: "My Dobuan friends warned me not to mention the matter in the Trobriands before I went there. Once I was there I deliberately made the experiment" (239). Incantations shared in confidence on the contingency that they not be repeated were similarly betrayed. Perhaps the most disturbing encounter of all is the one in which Fortune is determined to procure information regarding the extent and uses of one villager's (Hill Man's) sorcery. As Fortune recounts, "the sick man and his family still would not tell me nothing specific. They were much afraid of Hill Man. I used friendliness, and found it unavailing. But one day Hill Man happened to be away on an overseas canoe expedition. I got the family of the sick man alone, used cajolery, and I mingled with the cajolery some vague threats of Government and Mission Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 3 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): getting them (emphasis in original) for sorcery if they would disclose nothing. My time was short in their place and I had to resort to rough and ready methods" (160). In light of these and other cultural insensitivities, Fortune's relationship to the Dobuans may have been characterized by the hostility and suspicion of which he often accused them of. Moving from descriptions of field encounters to textual portrayals, Fortune characterizes the islanders of Dobu as living under a "wall of sullen suspicion on the one hand and resentment of suspicion on the other" (23). The need for constant vigilance is intensified during marriage about which Fortune writes that "jealousy and suspicion of adultery are sentiments of great and abnormal growth in Dobuan married life" (77). Such hostility, however, is not reserved only for one's spouse in Dobu for according to Fortune "secretly there is a covert desire to do the worst by neighbors" and any villager's good fortune or success was "necessarily gained at the expense of others" no doubt exacerbated by the "strong thieving tendencies of the natives" (78, 135, 145). Finally, Fortune summarizes the whole of Dobuan culture as follows, "underneath the surface of native life there is a constant silent war, a small circle of close kindred alone placing trust in one another. The whole life of the people is strongly colored by a thorough absence of trust in neighbors and the practice of treachery beneath a show of friendliness. Every person goes in fear of the secret war, and on frequent occasion the fear breaks through the surface" (137). What do these excerpts reveal about the relationship between Fortune and the Dobuans in the field and how are these voices portrayed in the text? What implications, in turn, does Fortune's representation of himself and his informants have on the construction of anthropological knowledge in Sorcerers of Dobu? In answer to the first question regarding the field encounter, the concept of distance will be utilized. "Distance" for Gadamer indicated historical removal from a text, while Paul Ricoeur used it to indicate cognitive or emotional separation. Dorinne Kondo integrates these two positions and added her own dimensions: she defines distance as "position (inside or outside the culture), as cognitive emotional orientation (how removed or alien one may find the Other), and hence argues that distance has significant epistemological implications for anthropological inquiry (75). According to these parameters, how distant was Fortune from the islanders of Dobu? Fortune distinguishes the Dobuans as "natives," possibly indicative of alienation or perhaps out of mere convention and devoid of other meanings. More telling are the temporal gaps revealed by referring to some native practices as "Victorian-like prudery" or akin to "old Puritan New England" (239, 239). Fortune's greatest rifts, however, were created by his frequent and intentional breaches of social etiquette and custom. Such distrust undoubtedly increased the emotional and cognitive distance already separating the anthropologist from his informants. Fortune's unflattering portrayals of islanders as thieving, war-like, and treacherous, to name a few, further suggests a lack of closeness. In addition to being unflattering, Fortune's depictions portray the Dobuans in generalizations rather than shades of difference. Exceptions to these rules and generalizations occasionally emerge in the text (e.g. Yogubu the widower, the White Trader, or the substantial number of marriages violating the 'cross-cousin' rule). Yogubu the widower violated the Dobuan belief that men should not reside in their deceased wife's village after her death (157). The Dobuans were also opposed to any member of their society taking a non-Dobuan spouse, a rule disregarded by the marriage of a Dobuan woman to a European referred to as White Trader (243). Finally, innumerable exceptions to the Dobuans mores against cross-cousin marriage were cited (56-60). Such "aberrations," however, are passed over as eccentricities and subsumed by other details. The enumeration of details, or "scientific facts" as Malinowski would prefer them to be called ("Introduction" xxix), is one of Fortune's strengths; however, the emphasis on description rather than interpretation is not without its costs. Lacking the insight fostered by interpretive skills, Fortune is ill-equipped to account for differences and influences (e.g., missionary and government) outside the boundaries he demarcates both in the field and text for the Dobuans. The resultant ethnography is suspiciously homeostatic depicting a synchronic and hermetically sealed world noticeably deficient of voices save for the omniscient narrator of the text. In "Ethnographies as Texts" Marcus and Cushman refer to such omniscience, generalizations born of accumulated facts, and depictions of "common denominator people" (a "composite creation" representing a "national character") as "ethnographic realism" (29-38). Sorcerers of Dobu was bred during this genre. From the 1920s until the 1950s anthropology was struggling both in the field and within scholarship to verify the authority of anthropological experience. According to Clifford, efforts to sanction ethnographic authority were intensified precisely because such experiences were so difficult to verify and the "experience of the researcher can serve as a unifying source of authority (35-37). Such authority, however, was oftentimes cultivated and produced at the cost of field informants' voice and agency. Dwyer sought to restore voices both in the field, as well as in the text he believed were usually lost in the traditional practice of anthropology. In the opening sentences of Moroccan Dialogues Dwyer states that he "had come to feel quite at odds with main traditions within anthropology" (xv). On the next page he attributes this dissatisfaction to two sources: one in his frustration with the "limits of traditional anthropology" and the other in his desire to "be sensitive to the Other's voice" (xvi). Dwyer describes anthropology's project as taking the form of a "personal expedition into the Other's cultural and social territory to seek a kind of Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 4 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): understanding" (xvii). This expedition, however, is inherently asymmetrical since it is "defined by the needs of western institutions" (xvii). The structured inequality of anthropology, then, is just one dimension of larger disparities Dwyer describes as a "particular kind of inequality is not an accident ... but is one aspect of a wider social confrontation between the West and the rest of the world that, in recent history, has never been symmetrical: the West has systematically intruded upon the non-West and reworked it, sometimes subtly, sometimes violently, according to the West's own needs. This asymmetry has its counterpart in the anthropologist's project" (xvii). Dwyer sought to address these inequalities through "forms of encounter which allow the Other's voice to be heard at the earliest possible moment, addressing and challenging the Self and rendering the Self "vulnerable" (xxix). Dwyer's strategy in the field, as well as in his text for creating such an encounter was through the "continuing dialectic" of dialogue thereby exposing the "Self's defenses to the Other's challenge" and mitigating some of the distance traditionally separating the two (xxix). In this manner Dwyer hoped to restore some of the power to the Other that not only anthropology but Western discourse in general denied them. Dwyer's three years of field research spanning over a decade in Morocco stand in sharp contrast to the experiences described in Sorcerers of Dobu and suggest the concept of an ongoing relationship with the country rather than the mere fulfillment of research requirements. His ability to translate the often complex ideas and grammatical structures expressed in the Faqir's dialogues reflect his command of Moroccan Arabic. Such language proficiency was integral to Dwyer's methodology comprised largely of direct translations of loosely structured interviews with the Faqir. Dwyer's cultural familiarity appears proportionate to his language proficiency and long residence in Morocco as evidenced by his knowledge of topics as diverse as the customary verbal jesting preceding afternoon tea at the Faqir's (37) to his understanding of the implicit meanings of bawdy sexual jokes (198). The depth of Dwyer's knowledge also extends to descriptions of conventional ethnographic material. For example, witnessing one of the Faqir's sons hiding from the circumcision specialist in a wooden trunk and the other son tightly closing his eyes "in order not to feel the pain" (55), circumcision and other rituals come alive as individual lived experiences (55). Such insight also adds dimension to seemingly mundane events. For instance, with Dwyer's perceptiveness a bicycle theft in chapter six moves beyond a description of the crime and becomes an opportunity to learn about local politics, as well as regional Arab-Berber relations. No doubt the form of Dwyer's interactions provided him with a privileged view of Moroccan culture and equipping him with the insight necessary to see beyond the surface meanings of events. In the introduction to chapter eight Dwyer recounts several different versions of Zahara's (the Faqir's eldest daughter) unhappy married life told to him by the Faqir's eldest son and Zahara's mother-in-law. Each of these stories is told in confidence in the hopes that Dwyer might intervene on Zahara's behalf with the Faqir. In chapter ten Dwyer was one of a select group of close friends of the Faqir's brother invited to attend an all-night party and trusted to maintain the secrecy of the event as wine, women, and other illicit matters. Whether acting as a liaison to the Faqir or strengthening the bonds of friendship with the Faqir's brother, the intimacy of Dwyer's field encounters frequently blurred the lines between participant-observation and cultural membership as detached observation dissolved into total involvement. Dwyer articulates this process by asking "where, then, did the Self's influence on this shared experience end and the Other's begin?" (215). Dwyer's most intimate field encounter was with the Faqir, in whose house he resided as both guest and over time as a "fictive" family member. Many of their conversations were about "essentially private matters" such as the Faqir's recollections of a young son who died of measles (156-57). So shifting were the divisions between Self and Other that Dwyer rewords the dilemma posed above as,"where, then, did the Faqir end and Kevin begin?" (215). Intimate encounters yield intimate portrayals. While Moroccan Dialogues paints vivid portraits of Ali (the Faqir's brother), Sidi Ali (regional leader of the Tijanni brotherhood), and several other villagers, it is the Faqir whom we encounter the most in the text and so this examination of representation concentrates on Dwyer's treatment of the Other in the depiction of the Faqir. In keeping with Dwyer's format, the Faqir is introduced through excerpts of dialogue. Regarding Dwyer's persistent questioning the Faqir asks, "well, what do you still want, now?" (120) while on other occasions he instructs Dwyer, "no, don't turn it off!" (129). Christians, says the Faqir, "deal with you fairly" while Muslims are "swindlers" (123). Moroccans, insist the Faqir, speak "by opposites" (107). The Faqir is alternately loquacious and tacit, tolerant and judgmental, and apparently contradictory. The Faqir possesses a practical wisdom born of experience, including army service in Casablanca, a failed marriage, and a turn as village moqaddem (village liaison to regional government). The Faqir's pragmatism and thoughtful approach to problems are evident throughout the text. In answer to Dwyer's queries as to why the Faqir had not been more direct and forceful in an ongoing land dispute, the Faqir replies that "you have to be a little patient and give in a little here and a little there ... Otherwise you'll always be fighting" (142). And on political leadership the Faqir remarks that "your vision must see from here to the coast; it mustn't just see ten meters ahead, like a rat's" (189). Such wisdom has taken on a spiritual dimension as the Faqir grew older with the help of a pious religious Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 5 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): ! brotherhood, the Tijanni. Adhering to the Tijanni precepts of prayer, right speech, just action, and a pure and trusting mind lead the Faqir on a path where "what precedes and what follows is God's knowledge" (48). The representation of the Faqir that emerges in Moroccan Dialogues is a rich and varied portrait of one man's contradictions, his noble and base character traits unraveled by Dwyer and laid bare before the reader. As mentioned earlier, Dwyer had also delineated rendering the Other and Self "vulnerable" as one of his research goals. If, by "vulnerability," Dwyer was striving to reveal so much of the Faqir that the character of the Faqir was open to multiple interpretations, albeit to an unknown audience, then Dwyer was also successful in achieving this goal. Compared to the Faqir, however, Dwyer's representation of himself is considerably more difficult to glean from the text. We know from the preface that he is married and from brief and passing references that he is a "New York City Jew"; the rest of the text, however, is virtually devoid of personal information and description about Dwyer. While the introductory and concluding chapters, as well as the beginning of each individual chapter are devoted to lengthy reflections on the "Self," it is not always clear whether this conceptual category is specific to the person of Dwyer or a rhetorical device and thus the reader emerges from the text not really knowing Dwyer on a personal level as we do the Faqir. While Dwyer can be challenged on methodological grounds, this lack of self-revelation makes him invulnerable to the scrutiny and interpretations of character to which the Faqir is subjected. As I suggest earlier, Dwyer sought to create a field encounter that did not "distance and disarm the Other" as anthropology traditionally did (xx). Dialogue, he hoped, would invite a more egalitarian exchange between Self and Other thereby incorporating voices into the production of anthropological knowledge. Dwyer is most successful at diminishing some of the distance that frequently exists between the anthropologist and members of the culture under study. To reiterate the longevity of Dwyer's relationship to Morocco, his ability to communicate, be communicated to, and his participative methodology utilizing dialogue provide fertile ground for the establishment of links and a sense of connectedness with the residents of Ouled Filali. Dwyer closes the gap between himself and his informants with an unusual sensitivity to the nuances of Moroccan culture and this enables his interaction with the Faqir to progress to a friendship so deep it blurred the identities of anthropologist and informant. Informed about Western hegemony in the Middle East and sensitive to cultural norms at the village level, Dwyer diminishes some of the distance separating him from the Faqir and others through a cognizance of the historical and emotional biases that foreground his encounters. Details in Fortune's and Dwyer's ethnographies move in different directions: one towards generalization and the other towards individual cases and scenarios. If Fortune's "cultural distance" limits his insights into Dobuan culture, Dwyer's proximity to and familiarity with Moroccan culture equip him with the interpretive skills needed to reveal the thought processes and emotional constructs of individuals. This awareness extends to regional, national, and even international issues impinging on Ouled Filali. While Fortune's Dobu appears bounded in time and space, Dwyer's Moroccan village is situated in a rubric of historical and geographic conditions that continue to change it. Dwyer managed to diminish some of the distance traditionally separating the anthropologist from members of the culture under study. Additionally, his successful negotiation of this space enables us to meet Mehdi, Ali, Zahara, and a host of other colorful characters represented in their strengths, as well as their vulnerabilities, particularly the Faqir. Dwyer's goals in Moroccan Dialogues were ambitious and numerous. As stated earlier, he sought to create an anthropological encounter that diminished some of the distance traditionally separating anthropologists from members of the cultures they study. Dwyer also wanted to render both participants in this encounter vulnerable. Ultimately, Dwyer was striving to achieve a more egalitarian form of anthropological inquiry through dialogue that allowed "the Other's voice to be heard at the earliest possible moment, addressing and challenging the Self" (xxii). In the end, Dwyer was successful in accomplishing his first goal, met with partial success on his second, and failed at realizing the third. As illustrated above, Dwyer decreased some of the distance separating himself from the Faqir and others during the field encounter. He also rendered the Faqir vulnerable during this process, although Dwyer's vulnerabilities, at least on a personal level, were left intact. Although Moroccan Dialogues may not have achieved all of its stated goals, Dwyer can certainly not be faulted for the passion nor the sincerity with which he pursued his project. Dwyer questioned the traditional practice of anthropology, the role of anthropologists and what he perceived to be the continual denigration of other cultures. He belabored over the justice of his field encounters and textual portrayals. He anguished over everything from Western hegemony in the Middle East to whether or not to attend a local party in Oulad Filali. The excerpt that follows from Johannes Fabian's Time and the Other illustrates that Dwyer was not alone in his discontent: "critical philosophy must inquire into the dialectical constitution of the Other. To consider that relation dialectically means to recognize its concrete temporal, historical, and political conditions. Existentially and politically, critique of anthropology starts with the scandal of domination and exploitation of one part of mankind by another" (x). Asad, Dwyer, Fabian, Paul Rabinow, and a number of other anthropologists of the same generation were caught, often painfully, in what Vincent Crapanzano dubbed the "epistemological anguish" of "the 'post' of postmodernism" (89). Questioning everything from the sequencing of an Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 6 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): event to the meta-narrative legitimizing it, this provocative examination of authority sometimes bordered on nihilism or the "impossibility of any universal understanding" (Crapanzano 89). Ethnographic authority in particular was called into question. Many of these anthropologists were trained in the 1960s and conducted field research in the 1970s when the work of Geertz was gaining prominence and Geertz's interpretive approach to anthropological inquiry helped fill a theoretical gap that these young anthropologists were experiencing in the field as the realities of field research challenged the traditional constructions of knowledge provided by their university training. Geertz's prolific and eloquent writings, particularly his Interpretation of Cultures, legitimized the notion that anthropological inquiry was not the straightforward enumeration of self-evident facts, but an exposition of different layers of cultural meaning (or "thick description"). These "thick descriptions" compose the cultural text that layer after layer the anthropologist "strains to read over the shoulders of those to whom they properly belong" (Geertz 452). According to Geertz, "cultural analysis is (or should be) guessing at meanings, assessing the guesses, and drawing explanatory conclusions from the better guesses, not discovering the Continent of Meaning and mapping out its bodiless landscape" (20). While Fortune and others trained during the era of "ethnographic realism" rarely questioned the omniscience of their voice, Geertz "contributed significantly to the defamiliarization of ethnographic authority" by "viewing cultures as assemblages of texts" (Clifford 41). While Dwyer acknowledges this significant contribution to ethnographic description, he criticizes Geertz at the level of "ethnographic activity" for his "systematic refusal" to examine how the "anthropologists actions clearly provoke those interpretations and help to structure them and give them content" (262). Hermeneutic anthropologists further undermined ethnographic authority by rigorously and systematically analyzing how these texts were created, particularly the influence of the researcher's unexamined beliefs on the text; it was to them that Dwyer turned next for theoretical guidance, beginning with Bourdieu. In his Outline of a Theory of Practice Bourdieu examines how the practical activity of anthropologists constructs knowledge. For Bourdieu, anthropological knowledge is a product of the dialectic between the anthropologist and the informant. In order to assess these dialectical relations scientifically, the "structured dispositions" that each participant brings into an encounter must be analyzed for the presuppositions that structure communication and pose limits on what can truly by known. Dwyer applied Bourdieu's insights to Moroccan Dialogues, as evidenced by his awareness of Western presuppositions about the Middle East and his ruminations over the traditional practice of anthropology. He found fault, however, with Bourdieu's refusal to "see the anthropologist as a full actor" in this dialectical construction of knowledge, thereby relegating him to an "observer" status (264). In his analysis of ethnographic authority, James Clifford argues that in light of the inherent weaknesses of many interpretive and hermeneutic approaches, anthropologists looked to dialogue as a possible means of incorporating more voices in the ethnographic text: "it becomes necessary to conceive of ethnography not as the experience and interpretation of a circumscribed other reality, but rather as a constructive negotiation involving at least two, and usually more, conscious, politically significant subjects. Paradigms of experience and interpretation are yielding to discursive paradigms of dialogue and polyphony" (41). Dwyer also looked to the use of dialogue as both a methodology in the field and format for the text. In this way he hoped to restore the voices that even interpretive and hermeneutic paradigms could not fully accommodate: "I do hope, though, that this book will encourage readers to confront rather than disguise the vulnerability of the Self and its society in the encounter with the Other and to seek forms of encounter which allow the Other's voice to be heard at the earliest possible moment, addressing and challenging the Self" (xxii). Dialogue, or the "event + dialogue" motif, was the form of encounter applied by Dwyer to accomplish his goal of incorporating other voices. He envisioned dialogue as a "personal expedition" whereby a continuing dialectic exerted a "mutually creative influence of Self and Other on one another" ultimately exposing and opening the Self's defenses to the Other's challenge (xxii; see also Webster). Dialogues were conducted at the Faqir's house, usually during the afternoon when most villagers were at rest from their farming labors and the midday heat. All of the conversations were recorded with the Faqir's permission and later translated by Dwyer. Dwyer entered each dialogue with an agenda of topics arranged in a "vaguely chronological order" (22). These exchanges were loosely structured around a recent event in Ouled Filali both of them witnessed or even participated in, such as a pilgrimage or religious festival. Dwyer began each dialogue with a series of short, often naive questions such as "why did you circumcise your son today?" (56) and "whom does a child like more, the father or the mother?" (61). Dwyer then led the Faqir along a progression of topics, each question more penetrating than the last. For example, towards the end of one dialogue Dwyer asks the Faqir "do you see your life as having some underlying order?" (218). At the end of the book Dwyer even asks, "could you explain to me what you think I'm doing here?" (225). With Dwyer's expositions, these dialogues are transformed into lively vignettes of Moroccan village life he described as "continuing the work" of Said and others "whose critique of the discipline has been tied to a critical approach to the project of Western society as a whole" (270). It is therefore Said's analysis of Western productions of knowledge I utilize in an examination of the voices in Dwyer's dialogues. In Orientalism Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 7 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016): Said identifies the two following "points of departure" from which he analyzes the establishment of authority of Western textual portrayals of the Orient, namely "strategic formation" and "strategic location" (20). Strategic formation refers to the method by which a text is structured and includes the narrative voice, the selection of themes, how information is foregrounded, and how it refers to the author's position in a text. Following detailed preambles, readers enter each dialogue in Moroccan Dialogues with the characters and event clearly situated according to Dwyer's perceptions. Dwyer is not only foregrounding the text in these instances, he is also the narrator. Additionally, Dwyer frames the encounter by selecting the major themes which will be discussed and the order in which they will be addressed. In Time and the Other Fabian addresses the existential and "political ramifications of the timing and ordering of discourse and the subsequent gaps of knowledge and misunderstanding generated by such "de-temporalization" (160-62). In the interest of space, however, this particular argument was not included. Thus, even when it is the Faqir's own words we are reading in the text it is Dwyer's questions which are being answered, Dwyer's agenda is followed. In the final dialogue Dwyer asks the Faqir whether "to your mind, what is the most important subject that we talk about?" to which the Faqir replies "I know that I'm not concerned with a single one of you questions. I know that these questions serve your purposes, not mine" (224). Although the Faqir is speaking, is he really narrating or telling his own story? Readers must be especially alert to such "hidden narration" guiding the Faqir's discourse for the sheer physical space occupied by the translations of the Faqir's sayings could deceive one into believing that this is truly the voice of the Other being conveyed. With respect to strategic location, where is the author in the text? As I suggest above, Dwyer the reflective anthropologist is ever present in the text, however Dwyer the person is virtually absent save for a few footnotes. Said refers to this removal of Self as "self-excision" and describes this production of knowledge as particularly invidious because discourse is still being dominated and mediated by a voice we cannot hear explicitly (168). The brief glimpses of Dwyer in footnotes belie the good intentions of the individual he portrays in the text. Publishing any document containing political statements which the Faqir himself fears people "without good faith" may use is not a small matter (Dwyer 178). Regarding his opinion on women, Dwyer also qualifies that he would speak differently were he in New York and thus chooses to hide his true feelings on the matter (228). Ironically, the Faqir equates acting in "good faith" with others with not keeping things hidden from them and he uses his relationship with Dwyer as an example of "good faith" (209). Hence I wonder to what extent the Faqir has been deceived or perhaps used. Dwyer utilized dialogue in order to create an encounter that would give voice to the Other, but paradoxically it was dialogue that got in his way. According to Seyla Rabinow, dialogues repress the "inescapable fact of textualization" (3) and "those of us who produce texts must face up to the fact that we can never avoid the author function" (7). Even if dialogues could, in fact, escape textualization, they are still situated "within particular configurations of power" from which meanings and understandings are constituted (Kondo 75). Perhaps Dwyer's mistake lay in sometimes allowing identities to blur to such an extent that these configurations' boundaries were no longer visible, an "empathy" that thwarts the benevolent intentions from which it originates "yet precisely very empathetic individuals may also be the ones lacking an "enlarged mentality," for their empathetic nature may make it difficult for them to draw the boundaries between Self and Other such that the standpoint of the "concrete other" can emerge" (168). Dwyer and other anthropologists have looked with hope towards dialogue as a potential vehicle for incorporating the voice of the Other. The inclusion of dialogue, however, may fall short of adequately capturing the Other's voice and agency when extricated from the conditions of its production, including the process of textualization, as well as power configurations that alter meanings, muffle voices, and provide anthropologists with ethnographic authority. Decontextualized dialogue runs the risk of providing the appearance of fully incorporating the Other's voice rather than actuality. Acknowledging and capturing the shifting relationships of power in which dialogue is embedded illuminates both the construction of anthropological knowledge as well as its limits. Rather than getting mired in epistemological anguish, cognizance of the limits of anthropological inquiry can equip its practitioners with a sense of humility and accountability and humility of purpose and accountability to the cultures portrayed. In conclusion, the representation of the Other is a key feature of ethnographic writing and one that traces anthropology's development over time. Fortune and Dwyer appear to inhabit different and opposing ends of a continuum with respect to the style and purpose of ethnographic writing. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, the discipline was struggling to verify the authority of anthropological experience both in the field and within academia. Ethnographic writing that emerged during this era of ethnographic realism including Sorcerers of Dobu were descriptive accounts bounded in space and time and dominated by the omniscient voice of the author. Later, when Dwyer was trained under the influence of postmodernism, anthropology was concerned with questioning and deconstructing ethnographic authority rather than proving and defending it. Works such as Moroccan Dialogues attempted to actively incorporate Others' voices in order to nuance the layers of meaning in which they were embedded through the use of dialogue. Kathleen M. Gallagher, "Anthropological Inquiry and the Limits of Dialogue" page 8 of 8 CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 18.1 (2016):