3. Dissecting Nomadism Through an Anthropological Lens

I will later return to an analysis of the visual depiction of nomadism, with reference to the films that I have selected, and why this is relevant to the socio-economic turbulence of Argentina at the end of the 20th and early 21st century. First, I would like to elucidate the theoretical and anthropological associations of the concept. Etymologically, nomadism is intrinsically linked with a dependence on animals, stemming from the Greek term, “Νόμος”, which means “assignment of pasture to cattle, and more generally the habitat or lebensraum of a community, with its cattle” (J. L. Myres, 1941, p. 20). From this, Myres comes to define an aspect of nomadism as the way in which “a human community is enabled, through its control of domestic animals, and also through its own dependence on them” (ibid.). While Laura of Trenque Lauquen arguably embodies the nomadic quality of “syntrophy” (ibid.) with animals and vegetation, presenting an almost motherly desire to nurture the unidentifiable animal found in the lake, this notion of nomadism is less relevant to my argument. Instead, I am absorbed by anthropological notions of nomadic movement, through the “habitual change of locality- migration, progressive or oscillatory” (ibid.), as a mode of survival, and a physical transition which necessitates psychological transformation. Wace and Thompson, in their 1914 book, “Nomads of the Balkans”, refer to the pastoral communities who interchange between space, “ranging over pastures which are wide” before annually returning to a base, “usually in the winter” (A.J.B. Wace and M.S. Thompson, 1914). Their settlement is therefore occupied seasonally, but they will always return “home”. However, nomadism is not necessarily associated with a periodic homecoming, as presented in the movement of the people of the Eurasian Flatland, who were wanderers, migrating with “houses on wheels”, not dependent upon subsistence farming but instead nurtured upon a “portable” milk diet (Homer, Iliad, 13, 5-6). Unlike the oscillating movement of the Balkan nomads, those of the Eurasian flatlands migrated without a destination. They “did not make their living, in Greek fashion, by breaking up the soil for grain-crops or fruit-trees but wandered with their cattle over unaltered grassland” (Myres, 1941, p.20) and, as noted by Aristotle, these archaic communities were used to “cultivating a living farm” (Aristotle, Politics, I, 5, as cited in Myres, p. 20). Myres differentiates these two branches of nomadism as “transhumance”, which refers to the “seasonal alteration of pastures and abodes, with prolonged sojourns and momentary (and usually continuous) journeys between them”, and “migration”, which identifies a “general trend or drift in a particular direction, so that pastures and abodes, once left behind, are not re-visited, till, sooner or later, the margin of continuous pastures is reached” (Myres, 1941, p21). Transhumance and migration are ultimately united by a common need to sustain life and can be seen as the human response to changeable and sometimes unpredictable biological conditions. I propose that this ethos can be applied to contemporary capitalist societies. We see patterns of nomadic movement in modern society, not rendered necessary by the fluctuating supplies of the metaphysical land, but instead necessitated by the failures of the socio-political environment, to protect and nurture human life; as important a threat to human survival as the failings of the land. Such threats may be characterised, in the context of this era of Argentinian history, as the occupation of high risk “red zones”, within which, “communities experience a combination of physical violence, stigma, and structural constraints that limit their ability to find jobs, foster social relations, and secure reliable transportation.” (Wurtz, 2021, p. 9).

Prehistoric notions of nomadism and our understanding of the concept therefore intersect in our observations of the failures of the land in nurturing human life. This link is enriched through another facet of nomadism; the detachment from domestic ties. The nomadic figure is self- sufficient. Anthropologically speaking, it was most effective to be responsible for yourself and perhaps one other person. For example, Myres refers to Eskimo communities in the arctic who lived in necessarily small groups, “seldom more than a family of two”, for the sake of both safety and equilibrium with the environment i.e. in accordance with the quantity of accessible resources (Myres, 1941, p. 19). Furthermore, archaic notions of nomadism suggest a lack of attachment to the nuclear family, which is often associated with western ideals of familial relations; “Even the children stray early from home, like young birds out of a nest; in due course, they mate like other animals, but as an Amazon Indian said, “Yes, I had a wife, but I have lost her: she is somewhere in the forest, like me.”” (ibid.). The nomadic figure thus becomes associated with the psychoanalytic concept of “individuation”, expressing an ability and desire to separate from the family domain, which I will come to explore further in Chapter Six, “Sedentarism, Individuation and Memory Formation”. This detachment from the nuclear family presents itself accordingly in new-Argentine cinema, through the depiction of the outlandish youth, who are separate from their parents. Parental figures are either invisible, not-present, not-mentioned, or usual associations of parents as caregivers are subverted, and children express an unconventional maturity or self-sufficiency, as with the premature, “adult” responsibilities of Mattias in Refugiado. Gonzalo Aguilar comments on this phenomenon as it relates to contemporary Argentine cinema, stating “It used to be imagined that parents not only brought children into the world but also offered a world to them, that is, a legacy, an experience, and, eventually, a job and a place to settle. Now, there is a kind of orphanhood to the characters of the new Argentine cinema. Parents do not appear anywhere, and, when they do, it is only to despotically anchor others in a disintegrated order.” (G. Aguilar, 2008, p.33). In the case of the children of the “desaparecidos”, parents were forcibly absent, and thus this suggestion of orphanhood takes on a literal definition, contextually intertwining the post-dictatorship era with absent parental figures. If nomadism comes to refer to the absence of a fixed centre-point or home, and a “lack of powerful (restrictive and normative) ties of belonging, and a permanent and unpredictable mobility” then sedentarism is conversely the “breakdown of homes and of families, the inefficacy of traditional and modern associative ties, and the paralysis of those who insist on perpetuating that order.” (G. Aguilar, 2008, p.34). By discussing the nuances of this binary, Aguilar acknowledges, firstly, that the experience of the archetypal nomad is not necessarily “free”, as we have come to associate the concept with in contemporary society, and secondly, that sedentarism is not synonymous with security. For example, the nomadic figures of Martel’s North Terminal express variable freedom; they are simultaneously outcast by society and find refuge in this alternative position, marked most pertinently by their habitation in rural areas. There is a tension here, as their nomadic status is simultaneously empowering and disempowering; their “othering” from society is both self-decided and imposed upon them, once again showing how nomadism is not inextricably intertwined with freedom.