Anthropology, Renegades and New Times:

A Brief Reflection in Defense of Researchers

By Eva-Maria Hardtman

What is anthropology and what is a renegade? These are such good questions. They go to the core of anthropology. They are questions about anthropology as a social science, but also about what it means to be human and what it means to have values ​​and morality in a society. When I was asked by the editors of Antroperspektiv to reflect on this, I thought it was a chance to take a small break from everything else to really think this over for a while.

So, what do we anthropologists do that other scholars do not? Well, according to Joan Vincent, we go to places where others have not been or where others do not want to go and we do it for a longer period of time. Where have others not been and where do they not want to go? They may not go where it is uncomfortable to go or where it is, for various reasons, risky to go. Now this is not the whole truth. As we know, most researchers enter into new territory to explore something new and in the long run to push their discipline forward. Many of us go where we think we see different forms of discrimination, threats and hatred. We observe, talk to people, collect material, write ethnography and analyse relationships between people. We meet vulnerable people and people at risk, and also people with status, power and economic capital. Now, this is not to say that all anthropologists do this, nor that they should, but it is rather a reflection on anthropology and renegades.

Let me turn to the concept of renegade. A renegade is an apostate who falls away, someone who betrays, a person who leaves their faith or group. It can also mean being critical of the state of things, a desire for change, a desire for something new. In other words, it can also refer to being positively rebellious, daring to stand for something different. In this way it differs from being a traitor, something that is only attributed to others in a negative way. In Charles King’s (2019) bestseller The Gods of the Upper Air, the anthropologists of the early 20th century are already described on the cover and in the subtitle as renegades. These early anthropologists went against the dominant paradigm of their time within the discipline and society. They questioned race as something biological and turned against racism. They were not silent but ended up in conflicts, risked their careers, paved the way for a new way of thinking of gender, and they put ethnocentrism in focus. They had a radically different view from the one that dominated at the time and they made their voices heard. King’s book has been criticized by anthropologists for, among other things, presenting a simplified view of the history of anthropology and for having a Western perspective with a focus on white researchers, but the book has also been appreciated in reviews for being a vivid and exciting story.

But were these early anthropologists really renegades, from a researcher’s perspective, even if the word is used to attract a readership and signal a more positive rebellious spirit? Were they not, on the contrary, faithful to the discipline when viewed from within? Are they not doing precisely what innovative scholars throughout history always do when they pave the way? They question power relations, find new patterns, use new literary forms of expression, as we find in Zora Neale Hurston’s writings and later also in bell hooks’s style. We have contemporary scholars like Faye V. Harrison and Linda Tuhiwai Smith who work in the same spirit, questioning their own discipline, analyzing in new ways and introducing thoughts and ideas that change anthropology.

The faithful look at the world with a critical, engaged and exploratory eye. They make discrimination and power relations visible. They refuse to be silenced despite opposition, even if they are questioned both from within the discipline and by society. They reflect and highlight the dark sides of anthropology and our role in the history of colonialism, direct the eye towards the power structures of which we ourselves are a part, open up to other ontologies as the Sámi scholar Rauna Kuokkanen does in her writings, include other perspectives of the world and give us a new view of academic knowledge. They change anthropology from within.

Who and what are we then as anthropologists loyal to, who do we betray and why? This varies, of course, but let me briefly reflect on the role of the researcher in today’s political situation. I will take a few very brief examples from the US, India and Sweden. Researchers have come to be silenced not only in Sweden but in many parts of the world. Ignorance is globally and aggressively on the offensive and occupies positions of power.

In the US, Trump, J.D. Vance and the Maga movement have taken the lead for “alternative truths” and an explicit disrespect for social scientists and scientists, but also for the law. Funding for universities is being cut, health and climate policies are being reshaped and history is being rewritten. ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) is using force to arrest migrants in Minneapolis in a way that goes against the Constitution, and this has created conflicts between the federal government and the state. In India, Hindu nationalists (Hindutva) are in power, historians are being questioned, history is being rewritten and school textbooks are being revised. Religious myths are being promoted as part of a Hindu civilization and Hindu nationalism labeled as the true history. Legislation under the Hindu nationalist party BJP has disadvantaged large parts of the population and violent crimes and threats against non-Hindus have increased under BJP rule.

What about Sweden? Almost exactly a year ago (April 25, 2025), more than 1,000 of us, researchers from over 30 universities in Sweden and a variety of disciplines, signed a joint statement in the Swedish daily newspaper Dagens Nyheter on DN Debatt. It was published under the headline “Our research cannot be dismissed as mere opinion”. The reason was that politicians were increasingly ignoring our knowledge. They do not respect expert knowledge in criminal justice, climate, environmental and energy policy, migration and many other areas.

Politicians do not listen to authorities and consultation bodies and ignore or express contempt for researchers’ knowledge if it does not support an already decided policy. This has become more the rule than the exception. Laws have been changed so that young people can be deported on the day they turn 18 even if they live at home with their parents, who have a residence permit. It will be possible to imprison children from the age of 13. Is this really democracy? Researchers’ knowledge is a cornerstone of democracy, as our joint statement also pointed out last year.

Let me return to the early anthropologists who radically changed our discipline. It seems now to be a time when we do not primarily need to break with our own discipline, but rather identify the sources of ignorance in the corridors of political power and also provide support to other disciplines and researchers who are conducting serious work. The knowledge of researchers is under attack from nationalistic and xenophobic politicians all around the world.

Interestingly the young Gen Z activists have defended democracy en masse in collective uprisings and with global support. They have identified and located their opponents, turned against injustice, corruption and censorship. The activists have joined forces, made their voices heard and refused to be silenced despite the violence directed at them. They communicate globally to support each other locally. Gen Z brings down undemocratic governments. We as anthropologists may have something to learn not only from our own discipline’s history but also from the young Gen Z of today. 

About the Author