This paper is based on a summer of fieldwork in Southern Transylvania, Romania. I will reflect on my experiences of making an ethnographic film that explores ethnicity and identity of the Transylvanian Saxons. I will argue that ethnographic filmmaking requires a visual engagement with the research theme, and that the notions of work, belonging, and time/change are ways in which Saxon ethnic identity is embodied and reproduced aesthetically.
When I was studying for an MA degree in Visual Anthropology, I spent the summer of 2002 doing fieldwork in a Romanian village in Southern Transylvania. The planned outcome was a 30-minute ethnographic film that would address issues of ethnicity and cultural identity among the Saxon population of Transylvania, one of the so-called 'Romanian German' communities. In this article I will offer some methodological and epistemological considerations that I encountered while doing fieldwork, and I will reflect on my experiences of making an ethnographic film about themes that are more commonly addressed in written ethnography.
Making an ethnographic film places the anthropologist in a position where he or she must engage with their subject matter not only theoretically, but also visually. This visual engagement implies appreciating the day-to-day expressions of the aesthetic dimensions of the research theme. By drawing on the past and the present of the Saxons of Transylvania, and by visually expressing the relationships that their social lives are made up of, I wanted to explore-in a context of social change-how ethnic identity is maintained and reproduced.
First, I will outline a very brief historical overview of the Saxon community in Transylvania. I will then describe my phase of initial fieldwork and how I came to choose my film subjects and location. I will argue that ethnography is the result of a process that is guided by a constellation of circumstances and events that are constantly being negotiated. In other words, importance will be given to the spontaneous, intuitive nature of fieldwork. Observational cinema will then be presented as a method for visually representing identity and ethnicity. Finally, I will address some key themes that helped me engage with my research topic visually, namely work, belonging, and time/change.
In 1143, a group of migrants left areas of the Mosel-Franconia, Luxembourg, Flandres, Wallonia, and the Rhine valley. At the time, the political and economic conditions in central Western Europe were rather critical, and some people chose to leave the homeland and migrate towards the East. The migrants eventually settled in Transylvania following an invitation by King Geysa II of Hungary to cultivate the land and guard the mountain passes. The immigrants from the West soon came to be known as the 'Transylvanian Saxons'. In return for their efforts, King Geysa II rewarded his 'guests' with pieces of land and promised them a number of privileges and rights (Huss 1926). Saxons had the right to cultivate their land without any feudal obligations, and were free to organise guilds. They protected their villages with walled churches against raids from the Turks and fortified their capital, Hermannstadt (Sibiu), with walls and defence towers. The change from agriculture to handicraft and trade had important economic consequences. For centuries, Saxon culture was flourishing, guaranteeing their power in the region and cohesion as a social group (Custred 1990).
In 1920, when the former Hungarian Transylvania was handed over to Romania, the historic freedoms of the Saxons were severely limited by the new government. After World War II, the situation became more precarious. Some Saxon leaders had collaborated actively with the Nazis, and all Romanian Germans were retroactively declared members of the Nazi party. In January 1945, thirty thousand Saxons were deported to camps in the Soviet Union for war-reparations labour. During the agricultural reform, 60,000 Saxons were expropriated and had to leave their farms and houses. Not only did these measures decimate the size of the Romanian German population, but the institutional supports that had, in the past, been crucial vehicles for the reproduction of Saxon ethnic identity-such as the educational structures and the Church-were weakened. The Saxon community was destabilised (Verdery 1985).
Just like class consciousness, ethnic sentiment was seen by the communist government as a form of false consciousness. Although the socialist state tolerated ethnic differences under the condition that they lacked any sort of political undertones, other policies tended more explicitly towards the assimilation of cultural minorities. 'Minorities […] [were] expected to give primary allegiance to their Romanian homeland and not to claim deeper affiliation with other countries' (Verdery 1985:63).
In 1966 Germany granted citizenship to all Romanian Germans, and the opportunity to leave Romania for a better life was readily taken by hundreds of Saxons. After the collapse of the communist regime in 1989, this migratory trend exploded into a real mass migration, leaving neighbourhoods and whole villages deserted.
I intended to make my film in Southern Transylvania because of the strong historic associations of this region with the Saxon community. The city of Sibiu, named Hermannstadt by the Saxons, represents the core of Transylvanian Saxon culture. It is nowadays also important on a national level, being one of the main cultural and social centres of Romania. The villages around Sibiu are commonly inhabited by a mixture of Romanians, Germans and Gypsies. The rural landscapes, the differently coloured houses and the fortified churches give these villages a very picturesque look.
I wanted to research Saxon ethnic identity by following the everyday life of different generations of a Saxon family with my camera. Since I had never been to Romania before and had no contacts on location, the plan was to spend my first weeks of fieldwork familiarising myself with the context and finding film subjects and a location.
I did my initial research in Sibiu. Although my intention was to make my film in a rural area, I considered Sibiu-which is the base of a number of Saxon associations and institutions-to be the ideal starting point for getting to know people and for gaining some form of access into the community. The evangelic priest of the city, a young Saxon, was one of my first informants. He was enthusiastic about my project and of invaluable assistance. He gave me a list of villages that he considered worth visiting and the details of people to speak to while there.
I was not familiar with the Romanian language, but could communicate well with the Saxons in German. Saxons are fluent in Romanian and use this language in their everyday life, in interaction with non-Saxons. Their mother tongue, however, is a Germanic dialect, which they use when they talk amongst themselves. There are Saxon radio and television programmes, and there is a weekly newspaper in German, edited in Sibiu.
I ended up spending about three weeks visiting different villages throughout the region until I finally settled in Alzen. Alzen is located at a distance of around 20 miles from Sibiu. The village has a population of about 1,000 inhabitants-a mix between Romanians, Gypsies, and Saxons. As a result of the mass migration, the number of Saxons has dropped from over 500 to around 70. Most people in the village live off agriculture and keep a small number of cattle, hens and pigs. Some people commute to Sibiu to work, but there is a general trend among the younger generation to move to urban areas.
The first time I met Rosi Müller, who later became one of the main characters of my film, we had a very long talk about Alzen, her home village, and about the changes that the members of the Transylvanian Saxon community have been experiencing during the past decades. She argued that, in this context, it had become very difficult for the community to maintain a sense of belonging and of shared identity. I was interested in finding out more about this process, to discover how individual experiences and identities shape a shared experience and a collective feeling of distinctiveness. I wanted to explore the cultural markers and the identity-defining institutions of Saxon ethnicity, and to look at how these are synthesised on a day-to-day level into a coherent image of self. I was hoping to capture, with my camera, the subtleties of this construction of ethnicity, the everyday ways in which members of a minority group in a multi-ethnic society craft their place and manifest a feeling of belonging.
Rosi and I immediately got along very well. She seemed to understand the nature of my project and my interests. A week after my first visit I moved into the house of Rosi Müller and of her father Michael, where I spent the next six weeks. During my first days in Alzen, I focused on doing research without the camera, just orienting myself, meeting people, listening to stories, and going on long walks with Rosi. People in the village soon knew me. I felt comfortable in Alzen straight away, and although I didn't consider it the most ideal film location at the start (I had initially hoped for a more dramatic setting against the backdrop of the Fagaras mountains), I soon started appreciating its colours, its light conditions at different times of the day, and its sounds.
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The Müllers and I developed a very good friendship, and I got to participate in every aspect of their lives in the way a family member would have done. I did my filming following the method of observational cinema, carrying the camera with me whenever I could and trying to capture as many different situations as possible. I wanted to show my film subjects not only at their house, going about their daily work, but also in public spaces, interacting with fellow Saxons and non-Saxons.
What had first and foremost influenced my decision to choose Alzen as my fieldsite over the other villages I had visited was not the location itself, but the impressions I had of Rosi and her father Michael. Not only did I sense that with their humour and confidence they would be good characters for a film, but most importantly I considered them to be very kind-hearted and generous people.
Michael Müller was born in Alzen in 1927. At the age of 18 he was one of about 30,000 Transylvanian Saxons who were deported to working camps in the Soviet Union. He returned to his home village seven years later. Despite his 77 years of age, Michael Müller is still very active: he does a lot of farming and keeps buffaloes, calves, hens and pigs. Rosi grew up in Alzen at a time when the Saxon community had already gone through significant social changes, but was still relatively strong in numbers. She learned to appreciate Saxon values and traditions, and enjoyed participating in social activities. She was educated in the 'German schools', which provided full education for the Saxon children and teenagers in villages and towns. The classes were held in German, and pupils would learn German as their 'mother language' and Romanian as a 'second language'.
Another very important Saxon institution was the Evangelical Church. Every Sunday, Saxons would wear their traditional 'church dress' and meet the other members of the community for the service. One of the most important days in the life of young Saxons was their confirmation, by which they became full members of the church community. Saxons had their own traditional dresses, and some food dishes are still referred to as Saxon specialties. Other folkloric manifestations included handicrafts, as well as Saxon brass bands, songs, and dances. In the past, most villages had their own brass band and dance group. Rosi used to be the leader of the Saxon dance group of Alzen.
During the time of the mass migration of the Saxons out of the country, Rosi-being the only person in the village who owned a typewriter-helped hundreds of Saxons from Alzen to get hold of their 'ancestor passport', which they needed in order to obtain their exit visa. Her brother and his family were among those who decided to move to Germany, leaving Rosi and her parents behind. The mass migrations meant drastic changes on many levels for the Saxon community. Today some German secondary schools still exist in towns, but they are now open to non-Saxons. Some villages, such as Alzen, still have 'German classes' at a primary school level. These classes are mostly frequented by Romanian children who want to learn an additional language.
The Evangelical Church still plays a very significant role in the Saxon community, although its structure has changed. The Saxons identify strongly with it, and it represents an institution that differentiates them from the other populations of Transylvania, which are predominantly Orthodox or Roman Catholic. I witnessed that sometimes the terms 'Saxon' and 'member of the Evangelical Church' were used interchangeably: a Romanian girl from Alzen had joined the Evangelical Church, and was therefore referred to by Saxons as 'one of us'. People lament that nowadays only very few villages have their own priest, as opposed to how it used to be in the past. These days, one priest usually serves a whole region. In some villages there are too few Saxons to hold service. The Saxons are very proud of their fortified churches, but many buildings are in a very bad state due to a lack of funds for renovation. Today there is one Saxon dance group in Sibiu, but most of its members are Romanian. There is also only one brass band left in the region, which is invited to other villages on special occasions, such as weddings and funerals. Rosi is the teacher of the 'German class' in the local primary school, and the trustee of the Evangelical parish of Alzen.
I liked the fact that the Müllers represented two different generations of the Saxon community, and that as such they would be able to convey particularly well the issues I wanted to address in my film, i.e. aspects of home, belonging, memory, time and change. Rosi and Mr Müller are well-respected in the village and well known for their helpfulness and patience. The fact that they play an active role in the village greatly facilitated my access into the community.
In any situation of anthropological fieldwork, the choices of one's informants and fieldsite are crucial, and the relationships anthropologists develop in the field are vital to the project. I also believe that when making an ethnographic film, one's end product depends to a very large extent on the aesthetic qualities of the material that one is working with.
Locations play an important part in how a film will be received by its audience, and therefore they do not only need to respond to criteria related to information collection; if they also exhibit a certain visual appeal, the filmmaker can fully draw on their possibilities to convey an atmosphere, the feeling of a place, even a pace of life. In fact, much of the knowledge conveyed in a film draws precisely on these aesthetic, visual components of a fieldsite and of the interactions that take place in it.
Similarly, film characters should not only be good communicators. They should also be charismatic and confident in front of the camera. I believe that the quality of the relationship of anthropologists with their interlocutors is of paramount importance. A good relationship can allow insight into intimate, qualitative information that can convey knowledge about people's desires and fears, and about how they shape their sense of identity in the private and public spheres. This, of course, also applies to ethnographic filmmaking. The camera is often seen as an intrusive, 'aggressive' object. Making a film involves, in one way or another, an invasion of the privacy of the film subjects. The development of trust between filmmaker and subjects is therefore not only of fundamental importance for the success of the finished product itself, but also confirms the existence of an unwritten contract which generates a number of obligations and considerations-ethical or other (Asch 1992). Although it is possible and probably recommendable to select characters and location following a previously established list of criteria, these criteria are nevertheless subjective and come down to the filmmaker's personal judgment. Choices of 'cast' are often very spontaneous and intuitive, based on the coming together of different circumstances at a specific moment in time.
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I like to think of ethnography as the result of a constellation of different circumstances and events that occur at a particular place and a particular point in time. This does not imply that the anthropologist does not have agency or merely reacts to circumstances. On the contrary, by allowing herself (or himself) to be guided by events that occur spontaneously, by the decisions of her interlocutors, by exposing herself to situations, she enters this constellation and becomes part of it, becomes one of its agents. As such, ethnography becomes a constant interplay and collaboration between the decisions and actions of the people involved; it is a constant shifting and re-shifting of the elements that define the encounter between anthropologist and interlocutors. It is in this general context that the process of making an ethnographic film-and thus also the process of selecting film characters and location-takes place.
I find it difficult in retrospect to find a 'rational' explanation for my casting of characters and fieldsite. I believe my choice had to do not only with aesthetic qualities, but also with intuition and logistics. Also, I never consciously decided that Rosi and her father would be the main characters of the film. They just turned out to be the people I spent most of my time with and had the closest relationship to.
Since ethnicity and identity are rather abstract theoretical concepts that lack immediate visual substance, I found that, in order to define and to capture the very moments in which the aesthetic dimension of these concepts was most present, I would have to closely follow the everyday life of my film subjects. I chose observational cinema as my method of inquiry. The aesthetic of observational cinema is suggestive of participant observation in that the knowledge conveyed in observational film draws on the details that make up everyday life, the different encounters that take place, and the different settings in which people move. As David MacDougall says of observational cinema: 'The richness of human behaviour and the propensity of people to talk about their affairs, past and present, are what allow this method of inquiry to succeed' (1995:118). The term 'observational cinema', however, implies more than solely a method of inquiry. At its core lies a vision, a particular outlook on the world. It denotes a special kind of relationship between filmmaker, subject and audience-a relationship that is based on mutual trust and on an intimate, sympathetic encounter between different worlds (Ruby 2000). MacDougall argues that films that focus on discrete events in order to tell a story 'are essentially revelatory rather than illustrative, for they explore substance before theory. They are, nevertheless, evidence of what the filmmaker finds significant' (1995:110).
During the conscious process of selecting what to film, the image ceases being merely a record, a representation or illustration of a reality, but opens itself up to interpretation, it becomes a metaphor. As well as becoming a piece of evidence, the image 'becomes, through the denial of all other possible images, a reflection of thought. In that double nature is the magic that can so easily dazzle us' (MacDougall 1995:118-119). Although a film may not be able to provide elaborate reflections or in-depth analysis of theoretical concepts such as identity or ethnicity, it can convey a different kind of knowledge which is based on an aesthetic dimension of these notions. Rather than providing information and an ethnographic context verbally, the real strength of ethnographic films is that they can capture the spirit, or the essence, of a place and its people by visually exploring an atmosphere, a pace of life, as well as notions of time and space. Ethnographic films can answer questions about how identity and ethnicity take place through time, through space, and about how they are visualised, crafted and embodied by individuals. In fact, in order to represent ethnicity or identity, the filmmaker has to return to a kind of 'visual theory', using images that embody these concepts.
By filming my subjects in their everyday life, I was able to identify recurring motifs which were expressed through action or speech. I explored those motifs that, in my opinion, could visually represent Saxon identity, and made them the central part of my research. In the editing, I constructed a narrative using specific scenes that reflected these general themes. I will briefly outline some of these key themes, notably those of work, belonging and time and change.
The notion of work became a recurring theme in my film. I found it important for various reasons. First of all, the reputation of the Saxons is, in present popular discourse, that of a diligent, hard-working people, and this reputation is reproduced every day both by Saxons and non-Saxons. Secondly, it is through the trade of produce and labour that social relationships are formed (Furnivall 1977). Thirdly, working the land locates Saxon identity and relates it to a specific place.
As Gonzalez argues, 'A fundamental component of ethnicity is reputation, that is, what significant outsiders believe about the people who form a specific group or category within a larger social universe' (1988:125). By making the notion of work a central theme of the film, I tried to allude to the images that are commonly associated with Saxons: the reputation of the Saxon community is that of a heroic and brave people, the epitome of civilisation and education. In fact, the success and wealth of Transylvania in relation to the rest of the country is attributed to the strong Saxon presence during the past. The fact that most Saxons have left the country is referred to with great regret. One of my Romanian informants told me: 'When our Saxons still lived amongst us, the sun used to shine every day. Now it only rises here and there, every now and then.' The associations that Romanians and Gypsies have to the 'typical' Saxon is a very positive one, yet almost mythical and filled with nostalgia. Saxons are known to be very good workers because they are extremely honest and tidy.
Images associated with a community, either from an inside or outside perspective, can become powerful markers of identity. They act as a kind of guideline, as a point of reference according to which community members construct a concept of self, create and maintain boundaries.
'One is tempted to believe that reputation is defined in an entirely subjective manner. Yet psychologists suggest that the ideas others have may indeed affect a group's self-image such that behaviour patterns become congruent with the way in which others see them, in a self-fulfilling prophecy.' (Gonzalez 1988:126)
In other words, ethnicity is constructed simultaneously through the images outsiders associate with the group, and through the group's performance of these images.
In the film, Rosi tells us the 'origin myth' of Alzen:
'When the Saxons moved to Transylvania, ten hard-working men came to Alzen. When they arrived, there was nothing here but forests. First, they had to clear the land. Then each of the ten men built a little house. With a little stable at the back, a courtyard, a small garden. The place started to take the shape of a village. So, they decided to give it a name. They wanted to name it after the hardest worker amongst them. But as they were all hard workers, they called it 'All Ten'. That's why we now call it "Alzen".'
This shows the degree to which the reputation of the Saxons has become part of their self-concept: it is incorporated into their narrative of themselves, and drawn upon in their stories. It shows the ways in which a group can use the images associated with it in the reproduction and performance of its ethnicity.
The Müllers own a small farm with buffaloes, pigs and hens, a garden, and fields for hay, corn and cereals. Both Rosi and her father spend a lot of time doing physical work, tending to their animals and land. Mr Müller says, 'We've got everything we need,' while he pulls out onions from his garden. 'We've got onions, carrots, parsley…' In a later scene he adds, 'Only through work can you acquire things. Without work, there is nothing.'
Engaging in physical labour is thus as much a source of pride and sense of achievement, as it is a means of production. The notion of work therefore also has great relevance in the social domain, since it is through exchange of produce and labour that social nets are constructed. Furnivall (1977) argues that in plural societies it is first and foremost in the 'marketplace' that interethnic relationships are formed and maintained. In fact, I observed that many Saxons and Romanians hire Gypsies as day labourers to work on their farms or in their houses. Also, brooms and other household items manufactured by Gypsies can be found in most households, since they are considered to be of particularly good quality.
On a more personal level, people engage with and build up a relationship to the place they live in through working the land. By shaping the land, transforming it, and living off its products, people acquire it. The physical engagement with the land thus relates Saxon identity to a specific place: it becomes located, or rooted, in this place.
The majority of the scenes in the film show people at work-be it inside or outside their house, be it working by themselves or doing communal labour. These scenes make both explicit and implicit references to the reputation of the Saxons, to the social significance of work, and to the relationship of Saxons with the place they inhabit. In this way, various aspects of ethnicity, embodied through work, can be conveyed visually.
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This rootedness of Saxon identity becomes important in relation to the strong presence in the Saxon narrative of an 'other' place, outside Transylvania, namely Germany. Germany is the 'imaginary' place where the ancestors of the Saxons came from, and the concrete place where the twentieth-century migrants have gone to.
The Saxons attribute their 'uniqueness' and their difference from the rest of the Transylvanian population to their different geographical 'origin'. Thus they conceptually imagine and spatially locate two different homelands. By referring to history, Saxon identity is positioned in Germany, the 'original' homeland. At the same time, by engaging with the land, it becomes located in Siebenbürgen (Transylvania), the place where they were born and raised.
Since the Transylvanian Saxons were granted German citizenship in 1966, it has also become difficult for many 'outsiders' to understand why some Saxons have stayed in Transylvania. 'One lives a better life there [in Germany],' is the overall opinion. In the film, a Romanian friend suggests to Rosi: 'Maybe you could find a good German [husband] there.' Similarly, a Romanian lady asks Mr Müller at the cattle market: 'So you're not going to Germany?'-'No!' he answers, 'This is where I grew up.'
These kinds of interactions, very present in my film footage, are daily manifestations of a Saxon sense of belonging. This sense of belonging becomes evident when one sees the film subjects move in the place that they call their home and interact with its inhabitants. By demonstrating knowledge of the place and a relationship to its history, they assert their place within it.
The issue of belonging does not seem problematic for Rosi and her father. Transylvania is their homeland, the place where they belong. 'I never really wanted to leave. I've always been very attached to my parents, my home and my homeland,' Rosi says. However, like most people of the village, they lament that the mass migrations have transformed the place and made it unrecognisable. The village community has lost its strength. Many houses were abandoned or sold when the Saxons moved out, and as a result people from outside the village have moved in. This has changed the demography of the village: Rosi, with her 46 years of age, is the youngest Saxon in Alzen. As she said, 'Since the mass migration I've been rather lonely. All my friends have left. And I haven't really found any new friends here.' Many Saxons feel similarly alienated and out of place. 'It would be better if nobody had left,' Rosi continued.
In the same way as a different 'place of origin' distinguishes Saxons from Romanians and Gypsies, a sense of a different past also reproduces Saxon ethnicity. The memory of the Saxon past is one filled with nostalgia. I found this yearning for past times, when things used to be better, to be ever-present. Therefore, the notions of change and time became themes in the film. People would refer to more glorious times of the past both verbally and through their actions-for example by showing pictures, or by singing old songs.
In order to express these notions of change and of time passing, I used a number of narrative devices. For example, the film is clearly bookended by the village herd leaving in the morning and returning in the evening. A funeral scene, and a scene where Mr Müller looks at a painting depicting the stages of life, also connote the passing of time.
I have argued above that ethnographic filmmaking requires a visual engagement of the researcher with his or her research theme. Films return to images in order to create theory, they show rather than tell. As such, they convey different kinds of information than written texts do. However, in order to gain knowledge of ethnicity and identity through relying on visuals, the images must contain details that can reveal ways in which ethnicity and identity are reproduced aesthetically and embodied through movement, speech, time and space. I found that the concepts of work, belonging and time/change were aspects of ethnicity that were embodied in various forms, for example in daily interactions between people, in engaging with the land, in asserting knowledge of a context.
The quality of the information a researcher can acquire depends a great deal on the type of relationship that he or she has with the interlocutors. When making a film, a relationship of trust is indispensable in order to gain intimate knowledge and insight into people's lives. I have therefore placed importance on the process of 'casting' film characters. I have argued that, although this process is crucial, the choice of the filmmaker can take place in a general context of intuition and spontaneity.
Above, I used the term 'constellation' as an analogy for ethnography as a combination of different events and circumstances where intuition, luck, and skill interplay with the set of relations one encounters in the field. I found that observational cinema, insofar as it follows the action rather than directs it, is a method that allows for this open-endedness of fieldwork. It also permits the filmmaker to take time to observe and pay close attention to the details of everyday life.
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Verdery, K. 1985. 'The unmaking of an ethnic collectivity: Transylvania's Germans.' American Ethnologist: The Journal of the American Ethnological Society 12(1), 62-83.
Schiltz, A. 2002. Sweet Life and All That Goes With It. Manchester: University of Manchester, Granada Centre for Visual Anthropology.
Anne Schiltz graduated in Social Anthropology from the University of Hull and trained as an ethnographic filmmaker at the Granada Centre for Visual Anthropology, University of Manchester. She lives in Luxembourg and works as a freelance filmmaker. She is currently working on a documentary film about the situation of women and children in post-war Eritrea. She can be contacted at chenapop(AT)gmail.com.