Amster

Department of Sociology, Humboldt State University
Ethnography at the Margins: Vagabonds, Transients, and the Specter of Resistance

Author(s): Randall Amster
Source: Humboldt Journal of Social Relations, Vol. 25, No. 1 (1999), pp. 121-155
Published by: Department of Sociology, Humboldt State University
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Ethnography at the Margins:
Vagabonds, Transients, and the
Specter of Resistance
Randall Amster
Abstract
This ethnographic study presents sketches of transients, vagrants,
and vagabonds in a particular southwestern (U.S.) town,
analyzing these subjects against an epistemological framework

that includes identity and cultural studies, resistance strategies
and forms of living Utopian social movements, and the continued
viability of notions of 'public space.' Implicit in the study are

methodological questions concerning symbolic interaction,
participant observation, interviewing techniques, and
dramaturgy, with a focus on both the 'data' obtained and the
process(es) by which it was produced and acquired. The study

includes accounts of transient life, an analysis of the local
'homeless'scene, and descriptions of neo-hippie cultural identity
and the Rainbow Gathering phenomenon. This analysis
concludes with the observation that transient life-ways in many
respects embody both the conditions of an anti-systemic resistance

and the socio-structural of a Utopian social (dis) order
qualities
constructed upon the rejection of hierarchy and domination.

122
Introduction
Sociological inquiry is never undertaken in a vacuum, but is

instead contextual, subjective, and, despite certain claims to
neutrality, always biased. Indeed, it might be said that a re

searcher without a bias is either dishonest, disinterested, or
dead. Of course,we all bring our predispositions, hang-ups,
and agendas with us when we go out into the field, and the
only things worse than having these objectivity impediments

in the first instance are the frequent attempts by 'social scien
tists' to either deny this inherent condition altogether, or to
fail to make such biases apparent in the written reports of their
observations. Good field work should be a product of the
researcher's interests and subjectivities, or else one runs the
risk of embodying the kind of instrumental rationality and
dispassionate logic that 'qualitative' research methods implic
idy reject in their explicit rejection of positivism. In short,

bias is essential to research, and the best way to constructively
—
incorporate such bias is to make it apparent in our work
both in what we choose to study and in how we present what
we have found. Some writers, such as Altheide & Johnson
(1994:490), have even gone so far as to formulate this quality
of "bias disclosure" as an "ethnographic ethic." Still other char
acterizations of this inherent-bias phenomenon include devel
oping an "epistemological lens" or "interpretive framework"
(Denzin & Lincoln 1994:13), and the concept oi"foreknowl
edge of the historical situation or context of the text" that arises

in hermeneutics (Diesing 1991:121).
In this regard, I have been focusing on questions of iden
tity and culture, forms of living, Utopian social movements,

and various resistance strategies to the dominant Western para
digm that is characterized by market economies, private prop
Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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123
erty, and centralized state authority. Of particular interest in

this vein are vagrants, vagabonds, and other transients and drop
outs, who appear as picturesque outsiders and gadflies in the
ointment of consumer capitalist society, helping to preserve a
discursive space that often exists beyond the reach of hege
monic forces of social control. Moreover, the quest to main
tain a transient identity and a subversive ideology raises issues
of agency and volition that are especially relevant in the face of
diminishing privacy rights and the decline of public space.

Such issues bear further on the question of whether Utopian
imaginaries can still be relevant in promoting social transfor

mation, or represent mere romantic longings that are rapidly
being mooted by globalization, surveillance technologies, and

the death of open spaces (cf. Mander 1991). The vagrant, the
transient, and the stranger serve as potential exemplars of what
a 'nomadic Utopia' (Niman 1997) portends, and provide a
pertinent bridge between notions of resistance and the preser
vation of spaces for the construction of alternative futures.
It is through this theoretical and epistemological lens I set
out to locate the transient pulse in and around the vagabond
haunts of a particular southwestern college town that, because
of its mild climate, crossroads location, and health food co-op
(with its subsidiary "Free Store"), seems to attract more than

its share of unsavory avatars. Often one can find these rogues
along the town's main drag, huddled under a lone kiosk, drum
ming, and occasionally 'spare-changing.' They are also plenti
ful at the local co-op, pulling in and piling out of their funky
buses and tie-dyed cars, dreadlocked and pungent and more
than happy to hug you in return for a smile. Sometimes you
see them outside supermarkets and convenience stores, with
buzzed blue
hair, multiple body piercings, and unspecified
gender, holding a scruffy puppy on a tattered hemp leash and

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124
asking for a cigarette or directions to the nearest blood plasma

donation center. Every now and then you'll spot a pair sleep
ing on cardboard boxes in the shadowy regions of the neigh

borhood schoolyard. Sporadically, they can be found camp
ing in a remote city park by the river that no longer runs, or
'car-camping' in a semi-industrial section of town that might
be known if the riverbed actually held water.
as 'the docks'
In the pages that follow are the stories, narratives, and ac
counts of just a few of the many transient souls I have inter
viewed, observed, and interacted with around town. I have
not sought to cull a specifically "representative" sample, al
though the encounters reported here do possess a certain quality
of typicality. The first is a recounting of a "chance" meeting at
the co-op with a carload of young neo-hippies who had just
been to a Rainbow Gathering near Payson, AZ, that had been
'busted up' by the F.B.I., the U.S. Forest Service, and local
police authorities. The second vignette is an interview ac

count of a day spent with a nomadic artisan bound for Hawaii
and raising money by vending various colorful creations. The
third tale is based on a series of interviews and observations
conducted over a period of months with a notable local home
less man who tells a story of anguish and despair as well as
hopefulness and liberation. The fourth section is a dramatur

gical and observational account of a small enclave of local va
grants who frequently gather on public sidewalks along the

town's main 'strip,' anachronistically appearing among the
upscale eateries and chain-store clientele. A brief substantive
conclusion completes this ethnographic pastiche.
Methodological Considerations
Before reporting my observations, however, a word about
methodology is warranted. My overriding aim here is to main

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tain a correspondence between the methodologies employed and

the particular subject under investigation. Methods employed
in anarchic, marginal settings such as the street scene or Rain
bow gatherings must be fluid, spontaneous, and open-ended
in order to cohere with the life-ways of the individuals and
groups being studied. I have yet to encounter a discussion of

anarchist methodologies per se in either the social sciences or
the body of anarchist literature. Philosopher of science Paul
Feyerabend is sometimes taken as a methodological "anarchist"

because of his "Anything goes" stance, although it would prob
ably be more accurate to refer to him as a "pluralist" (see Diesing
1991:47-52). In a recent review of various qualitative "inter
pretive paradigms," Denzin and Lincoln (1994:13) include

feminist, ethnic, Marxist, and cultural studies —
paradigms
which all have some common features with what I will term
here an anarchist methodology — but do not specifically make
reference to anarchist theories or methods. Some of these com
mon strands among interpretive paradigms include a praxis
oriented approach that emphasizes lived experiences, a critical
posture, and the promotion of emancipatory aims (id.). In

the anarchist literature, a recent journal article by Brian Mor
ris (1998:35) promisingly takes up the subject of "Anthropol
ogy and Anarchism," but turns out to be a substantive over
view of anthropological works with anarchist strands and not
an analysis of the methodologies themselves. Accordingly, in
tracing the contours of an anarchist methodology that is ap
propriate for a sociological study of vagrants, transients, and

"street people," I will rely on (re)sources from other interpre
tive paradigms, including various qualitative methods, "East
ern" modes of knowing, and even quantum physics.
Humboldt Journal of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

126
The Researcher's Role.

The analysis of research as a social activity, and its implica
tions for study designs, is embodied in the observation that,
"As researchers and observers become increasingly aware that
the categories and ideas
used to describe the empirical (so
cially constructed) world are also symbols from specific con
texts, this too becomes part of the phenomena studied empiri
cally, and incorporated into the research reports" (Altheide &
Johnson 1994:489). As noted above, a certain (methodologi

cal and epistemological) bias is built into all research, embed
ded in the theories and symbols relied upon in framing the
research issues and the experimental or study design. Far from
being avoided as threats to scientific objectivity, such bias is

crucial to understanding the perspective of the researcher and
the researched, and accordingly ought to be included in re
ports and write-ups as a necessary counterpart of the 'data'

itself. As long as we maintain a veneer of methodological con
sistency in our observations and disclose our positions relative

to the phenomena being studied, then we have achieved a cer
tain 'reliability' in the form of forthrightness, by being up front
about our bias(es) and agenda(s).
In my own intellectual of and direct experiences
studies
with vagrants, transients, anarchists, communards, flower-chil
dren, Rainbow gypsies, hippies, and other marginals, I have

often noticed a strong sense of recognition in these encoun
ters, a kindredness of spirit that I believe accounts in large part

for my ability to establish rapport and gain entree (cf. Adler
1994:382-3, discussing how Simmel's "position in society" as

a "marginal man" "placed him in an excellent vantage point
from which to observe," and likewise noting Goffman's "posi
tion of self-imposed marginality"). But it also challenges my
role as a researcher, since I tend to treat such meetings more as

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127
casual conversations than interviews, and even when I openly

take notes, the relationship still feels more like brother-to
brother/sister than researcher-to-subject (cf. Adler 1994:383,
again, observing Goffmans tendency toward "unsystematic,

naturalistic observation" that "established a precedent for be
ing inattentive to methodology"). The bad news is that the
very qualities that provide me with entree and the establish

ment of solid rapport are also the greatest threats to my objec
tivity. The good news is that even 'objectivity' is subjective,

and my role in selecting sites of inquiry, framing queries, and
constructing meaning (through my particular epistemological

lens) is not only valid methodologically but is also essential to
the collection of meaningful 'data' and the vitality of the en
tire research project. In short, I have come to understand that
my role in the meaning-making process is not a threat to reli

ability but rather its pre-condition: the more "inside" the phe
nomenon a researcher
gets, the more detailed the character
izations and depictions of the insiders' world of meaning. The
researcher, as either principal or actor, or as part of the audi
ence, or both, is implicated in the meaning-making process;
no matter where one is situated in relation to some studied
activity or setting, you are surely part of what is being ob

served. The lesson is that this state of affairs is not only to be
expected, but can be an important source of information in its

own right.
Bricolage.
A bricoleur works with the materials at hand in constructing
models, analogies, and arguments (see Quinn 1996), becom
ing a "Jack of all trades or a kind of professional do-it-yourself

person" (Levi-Strauss 1966, quoted in Denzin & Lincoln
1994:2). "The bricoleur produces a bricolage, that is, a pieced

128
together, close-knit set of practices that provide solutions to a

problem in a concrete situation. The bricoleur reads widely
and is knowledgeable about the many interpretive paradigms
(feminism, Marxism, cultural studies, constructivism) that can
be brought to any particular problem. The researcher-as
bricoleur-theorist works between and within competing and
overlapping perspectives and paradigms. The product of the

bricoleur's labor is a bricolage, a complex, dense, reflexive, col
lage like creation that represents the researchers images, un
derstandings, and interpretations of the world or phenomenon

under analysis. This bricolage will connect the parts to the
whole, stressing the meaningful relationships that operate in

the situations and social worlds studied" (Denzin & Lincoln
1994:2-3).
Everyday Life.
An essential theoretical notion often advanced in qualitative
methodologies is that all activity is social, and as part of that

network of relation and communication that we call 'everyday
life,' research is likewise implicated as a 'social activity.' In this
vein, David Altheide (1996:8) has identified three primary
tenets of social research: (i) the social world is grounded in a
we study"
symbolic order, (ii) research is "part of the social world
(a phenomenon often termed reflexivity)-, and (iii) "process is
key because everything is, so to speak, under construction."

In particular, when we employ methodological techniques such
as participant observation and active interviewing, we come
to understand clearly how research is both descriptive and con
stitutive of the social world and of the nature of'reality' itself.
What is asserted in this scheme is akin to a social construc
tionist view of'reality,' and includes the concomitant role that
research techniques play in reflexively constituting meaning

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and 'truth' (see Denzin & Lincoln 1994:4) — in short, the

related notions that research is a social activity and that 'every
day life' is a legitimate situs of social research (cf. Ward 1973:11;

Thomas 1993:36).
Intuition, Approximate Knowledge, and

The Trouble with Maps.
In developing an appropriate methodology for a study of tran
sients and travelers, it is worth recalling the axiom that "The
map is not the territory' (Wilber 1977:42). In epistemological

terms, this leads us to perceive that all knowledge acquired
and disseminated through the rational processes of intellect,
sensation, and linguistics, is only an "approximate representa
tion of reality [and] is therefore necessarily limited" (Capra
1991:28). In contrast, knowledge received through intuitive

or mystical processes — including non-ordinary states of con
sciousness like meditation, yoga, shamanic trances, psychedelic
altered states, pranayama (see, e.g., Weil 1972; Huxley 1954;
and Wilber 1977:24 on William James) — is often described
as an absolute knowledge that, in Buddhist terms, is the "direct
experience of undifferentiated, undivided, indeterminate

'suchness'" (Capra 1991:29). These two great epistemic prin
ciples, what Ken Wilber calls the "two basic modes of know
ing" (1977:43), the rational and the intuitive, comprise a di
chotomy that is "sewn into the very fabric of the universe"
(1977:35), and manifestsitselfin myriadsocio-philosophical

antinomies such as appearance!essence,
fact/value, phenomenal!
noumenal, empirical/mystical, patriarchal!matriarchal. The com
mon conclusion of the theorists cited in this discussion is that
the great travails and grave perils of civilization are largely due
to the misguided overemphasis of the rational principle almost
to the exclusion of the intuitive, leading inevitably to "the con

130
fusion of our perceptions of reality with reality itself" (Weil

— that is, to
1972:147) mistaking the map for the terrain.
Thus, despite all of our attempts at validating, confirming, ra
tionalizing, regularizing, legislating, computerizing, predicting

and controlling, "absolute knowledge" (i.e., wisdom) eludes us
(cf. Nietzsche 1996; Spinoza 1991). As Pierre Clastres
(1994:36) intones: "We travel on the surface of meaning, which

slides a litde further away with each step we take to approach
it."
In this light, it seems if we are to "know" something, any
thing, we must of course study it, think about it, and analyze
it, but more importantly we must experience it. And if we are
thereafter inclined to communicate our experiences, we need
to comprehend that words are always abstract, inaccurate, and
incomplete, but that the use of symbolic forms such as myth,
metaphor, symbols, poetic images, allegories, paradoxes, and koans

can begin to "point" the receiver in the direction of their own
direct experience with the phenomenon under investigation
(Capra 1991:43). This, I think, begins to get at the "qualita

tive" turn to (re)sources such as "ethnographic prose, histori
cal narratives, first-person accounts, still photographs, life his
tories, fictionalized facts, and biographical and autobiographical

materials" (Denzin & Lincoln 1994:6), "visual sociology via
photography" (id. at 390 n.l), "storytelling" (Altheide &
Johnson 1994:486), and "poetic readings, one-act plays, and

dramatic presentations" (id. at 498). It also begins to explain
sociological turns such as Marx's "early insistence on the tran

scendent power of the imagination" (Solomon 1974:467), as
well as why "for most Critical Theorists, the one space left
open for resistance was that of art" (May 1994:26). Such sym
bolic forms, while still only maps, begin to connect the ratio
nal, intuitive, and direct ways of knowing.

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Spontaneity.
This phenomenon raises a more general point, noted above,
about the utility of maintaining a correspondence between
methodologies employed and the particular subject under inves
tigation. Methods employed in anarchic, marginal settings

such as the "street" scene, for instance, ought to be fluid, spon
taneous, and open-ended, whereas more structured, routin
ized, and systematic methods might be appropriate in settings

(such as business or military environments) where analogous
values predominate. As Diesing (1991:52) notes in discussing
Feyerabend s famous anarchistic remark that "Anything goes,"

the true meaning of the phrase is that "the method to be used
should be appropriate to the research situation, including sub
ject matter, theory, audience, and personality of the scientist."

Anarchist social settings, if they possess any common strands
at all, are united in a belief in "the theory of spontaneous or
der" (see Ward 1973:28), sometimes analogized to the ten
dency of biological organisms and communities to be self-or
ganizing and self-regulating (i.e., cybernetics), and always ex

pressed in the belief that left to their own devices and on equal
footing individuals will voluntarily and spontaneously under
take mutually beneficial cooperative endeavors (see, e.g., May
1989:171, discussing the same as the "#priori' of anarchism).
An anarchist methodology must accordingly abide this funda
ment of anarchist social theory and practice.
Ambiguity, Ambivalence, Uncertainty.

The methods employed in anarchist research are partially in
formed by principles often identified with symbolic interaction
(ism), which establishes a framework for interpreting and un
derstanding the "social" realm. Whereas positivistic methods

of analysis focus on objective 'truth' as evidenced by episte

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132
mologically pure 'sense data,' symbolic interaction views truth

as subjective, relative, and susceptible of no absolutely correct
or privileged interpretation. The epistemological implications
are that 'truth' is relative dependent upon one's frame of refer
ence and, accordingly, that there exists no privileged perspec
tive for the observation and analysis of'reality' (cf. Jorgensen
1989:14-5). Thus, in a world where "all knowledge is per
spectival" (Altheide & Johnson 1994:490), all truth-claims are
inherently "valid" (cf. Jorgensen 1989:26-7); as Diesing notes

in discussing hermeneutics, "since there are many perspectives
there can be many true interpretations.... [I]n hermeneutics
truth is irrelevant, and all interpretations are equally valid."
And as Nietzsche (1996:15) succinctly exhorts, "there are no
eternal facts, nor are there any absolute truths."
This condition requires that we come to accept, even revel
in, a large dose of ambiguity in navigating the social and mate
rial terrain(s). As Andrew Weil notes in his early work on
consciousness (1972:153), we must achieve
an "acceptance of
the ambivalent nature of things." Quantum physics tells us,
moreover, that electrons exist as either/both "waves or par
ticles, energy or matter" (id.), and thus that there is a funda
mental uncertainty built into the fabric of the universe: all
observations are relative to the observer's coordinate frame of
reference, and, at the subatomic level, all interactions can only

be expressed in terms of "probabilities" (see Capra 1991). In
the context of social science methodologies, this means that
there is little if any point in ever trying to "prove," "confirm,"
or "validate" anything; rather, the aim should be to elicit a
dialogue, to stimulate thought/discussion/action, in ways that
"point" to our particular conceptions of "reality" without try

ing to provide precise, repeatable instructions as to some gen
eralizable "truth." This has been and will continue to be a

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guiding force in all of my inflammatory polemics, advocacy
pieces, and semi-spontaneous lectures, and is so essential that

it bears repeating: I never propound an argument with the
intent of proving, disproving, or otherwise deciding something
with certainty, but instead seek to promote a sense of reflective
ambiguity and encourage a dialogue on the particular ques

tion at hand. Ultimately, messages received in this way tend
to inhere deeply if at all, mostly because the (small-t) "truths"
gained through dialogue, pointing, and ambivalence are due
primarily to the receiver's own internal processes and not the

sender's marshalling of "data," alleged methodological rigor,
or influence and status.
Symbiosis, not Dualisms.

A principal aim of most strands of'symbolic interactionism' is
the uncovering of people's subjective meanings, and accord
ingly the theory is generally framed by the suppositions that
(i) people act on the basis of meaning, (ii) meaning is pro

duced by social interaction, and (iii) meanings are modified,
molded, and refined through an "interpretative" internal pro
cess (Blumer 1969:2). The social realm is seen as a "life-world"
that is interpreted, shared, and intersubjective; meaning is cre
ated and shared by a reciprocity of perspectives in which com
monalities in orientation (e.g., speech patterns, signs and sym
bols, and 'normal forms') enable the mutual constitution of
'reality' through processes of social communication. In this
lexicon, we come to understand the "process of the life-world"

as both a topic (i.e., subject meriting investigation) and a re
source tool for understanding
(i.e., and interpreting mean
ings, symbols, actions). In essence, symbolic interaction of

fers both an ontological account of the social world, and an
epistemological method for understanding that world.

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Active interviews (Holstein & Gubrium 1995), participant

observations (Jorgensen 1989), and hermeneutical
interpreta
tions (Diesing 1991) are thus properly viewed as methodologi
cal cousins in which the rigid positivistic lines between ob
server and observed are obliterated in favor of a more holistic,
inclusive, and (in many ways) egalitarian approach that privi
leges no perspective over another, and removes the white cloak

of objectivity that seems to me misplaced in any 'science' that
This is what Dewey perceived in his insight
calls itself'social.'
that "there is no external world separate from us" (in Diesing
1991:77); goes on to note, "The spectator theory

as Diesing
assumes a separation between us and the object to be known,
nature or society, so that our efforts to know it do not affect
the object. . . . Against this Dewey asserted that since we
participate in our 'object', society or nature, knowing involves

interaction with the known" (1991:78). Of course, this is j ust
what the Eastern philosophers, mystics, and more recently,
physicists have been telling us, that the universe is "a system of
inseparable, interacting, and ever-moving components with
the observer being an integral part of this system" (Capra
1991:25; see also Einstein 1954). Likewise Wilber (1977) who
drives home the essential nature of this symbiosis that is woven
into the very fabric of nature-.
Objective measurement and verification could no longer

be the mark of absolute reality, because the measured ob
ject could never be completely separated from the measur
— the measured and the measurer, the verified
ing subject
and the verifier, at this (quantum) level, are one and the
same. . . . The texture of reality is one in which the ob
server and the event, the subject and the object, the knower
and the known, are not separable In sum: our ordinary
conception of the world as a complex of things extended in

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135
space and succeeding one another in time is only a conven

tional map of the universe — it is not real. It is not real
because the picture painted by symbolic-map knowledge
depends upon the splitting of the universe into separate
things seen in space-time, on the one hand, and the seer of
these things on the other. In order for this to occur, the
universe necessarily has to split itself into observer vs. ob
served, or, in [G. Spencer] Browns words, the universe must
become distinct from, and therefore false to, itself. Thus,
our conventional, dualistic, symbolic pictures are subtle fal
sifications of the very reality they seek to explain. But the
split is not so much false as illusory, and the philosophies,
psychologies, and sciences that depend on it are therefore
not wrong but nonsensical. (PP. 36,42,77)
Transformative Potential.
As we enter a new millennium that portends a brave new world
of hegemonic capitalist values and the Disneyfication of the
globe (cf. Mander 1991), matters of resistance, freedom and

volition, and open space take on a certain aura of urgency.
The ideological and pragmatic issues raised in this account of
my interactions with various transients, vagrants, and drop

outs provide a framework for a further analysis of the continu
ing vitality of notions of public space and the viability of Uto

pian social movements in a new world order that is character
ized by the globalization of capital and its associated techno
logical and cultural logics. This burgeoning global mono-cul

ture, with its state/corporate control of space and the perva
sive push of privatization, directly implicates issues of resis
tance strategies and forms of living, requiring of us (especially
those who lecture and publish) a position of "advocacy" in
order to bring about "the shift from an attitude of domination
and control of nature, including human beings, to one of co
operation and nonviolence" (Capra 1991:334). As Colin Ward

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136
(1973:142) further notes, "Power and privilege have never been

known to abdicate. This is why anarchism is bound to be a
call to revolution."
In pursuing such "emancipatory" aims (see Diesing
1991:128; Denzin & Lincoln 1994:14), and in the continu
ing quest to imagine spaces of resistance and strategies to real

ize the same, I consider here the character types of the vaga
bond, the transient, and the nomad. Infused with an aura of

immediatism and spontaneity, these avatars provide a colorful
and pertinent bridge between the ways in which we conceive
identity in the postmodern age and how we might act out our
scholarly pursuits in the true 'spirit of revolt' (Kropotkin 1968)
and not just the tendency toward radical chic. This is where
the vagabond has salience: If we are to resist in unexpected
and non-commodifiable ways, we ought to do so with a flair,
in the spirit of play and picaresque adventure, reveling in our
indeterminacy and nonfixity and spreading it like a subversive

plague to the farthest reaches of time and space. The vaga
bond alone resists on these terms; she is a social movement
by
her very existence, a revolution of one, proving with her free
dom as she goes that resistance is indeed not futile. The vaga
bond is a social critic, a commentator on the condition of life
in a time of hyperreality: "The hub of postmodern life strat
egy is not identity building, but avoidance of fixation" (Bauman

1996:24). Driven by the fragmentary and contingent vagaries
of life in an era of deconstruction and dislocation, the post
something vagabond renounces bounded place in favor of in

finite space, wearing his indeterminacy, his transparency, as a
well-earned badge of resistance carried forth into the world.
In this vein, Harvey (1990:302-03) observes that "the ca
pacity of most social movements to command place better than

space puts a strong emphasis upon the potential connection

137
between place and social identity. ... In clinging, often of
necessity, to a place-bound identity, however, such oppositional

movements become a part of the very fragmentation which a
mobile capitalism and flexible accumulation can feed upon.
'Regional resistances,' the struggle for local autonomy, place

bound organization, may be excellent bases for political ac
tion, but they cannot bear the burden of radical historical
change alone." It is precisely the vagabond

because denies
place that his 'fragmentation' is a form of resistance and not
unwitting complicity; he is already gone by the time 'the ten

tacles of the Machine' reach out to pull him into its mael
strom of commodification and schizophrenia; he resists assimi
lation with his elusiveness.Fragmentation that stays at home
will always be found and exploited; the vagabond takes his on
the road and disappears in a haze of dispossession, "moving
wherever signs and coincidences or simply whims may lead"
(Bey 1991:82).
Vagrant and transient life-ways, in their unboundedness,
immediatism, minimalism, and fluidity, are harbingers of the
kind of organic decisionmaking, decentralized power, sponta
neous creative energy, and spatio-temporal "play" that a Uto
pian social (dis)order built on a rejection of domination con
templates. As Hakim Bey (1994:4) counsels, "Nomadism,

and the Uprising, provide us with possible models for an 'ev
eryday life' of Ontological Anarchy. . . . Like the bedouin we

choose an architecture of skins — and an earth full of places
of disappearance." Silent shrouded figures, tracking through
the post-postmodern desert, "wandering among the dunes, lis
tening to the crystalline silence, looking at the limitless hori
zon, admiring the changing spectacle" (Stamelman 1993:125),
adorned by "the camel, the tribe, the star" (Raybaud 1993:147),
great "camps of black tents under the desert stars, interzones,
Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25> Number 1

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138
hidden fortified oases along secret caravan routes" (Bey

1991:107), embodying "a kind of clandestine spiritualjihad"
— this is what the
(Bey 1991:18) vagabond portends; she is a
harbinger of the next great epoch; this is her present, and our
future.
Rainbow Nomads and the Narc-Sniffing Dog

Upon exiting the local health food 'co-op' one afternoon, I
noticed a group of young neo-hippies huddled around a pic
nic-style table on the co-op's back porch. They were four in

all, none over 20 years old, recognizable in their hemp jewelry,
dreadlocks, torn floral dresses, frayed baggy jeans, colorful tat
toos, and pierced lips, noses, and eyebrows. They were ac
companied by two hungry looking dogs and a very tiny but
bold kitten on a leash made from a long piece of hemp twine.
I overhead them talking about a recent 'Rainbow Gathering'
that had been held in the National Forest near Payson, Ari
zona, and I approached and asked them how the Gathering
was.
In bits and pieces, and with contributions to the story

added by all four, they told me how the Gathering was 'busted
up' by F.B.I, agents, Forest Service law enforcement agents,

and local police authorities. According to my young friends,
there were about 25 people camping on the site designated for
the Gathering, and the 'cops' and the 'feds' showed up 30
strong, in more than 10 vehicles, and forcibly ejected the group

from the Forest, issuing summonses to many of them for 'erect
ing structures on National Forest land' (someone had appar
ently built a tree house out of fallen branches) and for littering
(burying compost on National Forest land). The reason given
for the government s actions was that a dog owned by 'Kristen,'
one of the young hippies I encountered, had bitten an under

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139
cover F.B.I, agent on the ankle. According to Kristen, the feds
immediately moved in, her dog was impounded, summonses

were issued, and the Gathering was dispersed.
A brief contextual digression is warranted here. The 'Rain
bow Family of Living Light' is a self-styled nomadic tribal an
archy and Utopian movement that manifests in 'Gatherings' held

on National Forest land throughout the United States (and on
other public sites around the world as well) (see generally
Niman 1997). The 'Family' (often taken to mean "anyone
with a bellybutton," which renders problematic issues of legal
standing and representative authority) is presently engaged in

a struggle with the federal government over constitutional
matters of such gravity as First Amendment rights of free ex
pression and association (the U.S. Forest Service has recently
imposed and enforced a constitutionally-tenuous permit re

quirement for use of the National Forests that is currently be
ing challenged in federal courts in a number of jurisdictions)

and Fourth Amendment search and seizure protections (also
under legal challenge are the Forest Service that roadblocks
are specifically erected on remote roads on which only attend
ees of the Gathering are likely to travel). The police presence
at Gatherings has grown more ominous of late, with road
blocks, random searches, physical confrontations, prominently
displayed firearms, pepper-spraying incidents, and even mass

arrests reported at recent Gatherings. In addition to these in
creasing intimidation strategies on the part of the state, a con

comitant ideological battle is being fought over the meaning
and continued of public space and the free
vitality of notions
dom of peaceful assembly, along with issues pertaining to the
constitutional rights implicated by the government's tactics.
But back to the encounter at the co-op. Kristen had just
met her three fellow travelers — who were friends from back

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140
in New — at the
home Hampshire Gathering, and they were
all headed for Laguna Beach, California, and then on to the
National in Oregon
Gathering later that summer. They
stopped at the co-op
because they had heard that "you can get
water here and use the bathroom and not have to buy any
thing." They did, nonetheless, purchase some "zuzus" [a Rain

bow word that, in prison slang, means candy or something
sweet (Niman 1997:247)]. When I encountered them they
were in the middle of receiving a spiritual 'reading' based on
Mayan astrology from a local co-op regular with a long white

beard and 'phat dreads' tucked under a large colorful cap. The
reading was about cosmic

fire, astral clans, and energy align
ments, and from Kristen's and her friends' pretend-serious re
actions one could easily discern that they were enjoying it for
its cartoon-ish entertainment value. They did, however, tune
in more closely when the readers comments turned to meta
phorically-illustrated concepts like 'hierarchies' and 'power
alignments' among the four friends themselves. The tension

was broken when one of them wondered aloud if the readers
analogies were meant to apply to the four pet mice that they
travelled with and that were prominently on display in a yel
low lucite cage in the center of the table.
We talked for a while longer, about being on 'Dead Tour'
("What years were you on tour?"), traded a few Gathering

tales and stories, passed around a community bottle of pink
lemonade, made up to look for each other 'down the road,'

and exchanged A friend that I was with gave
warm hugs.
Kristen a bracelet with a bell on it, and Kristen beamed. Her
last comment as she turned to depart was that she hoped they
would find "a good safe spot to park and sleep tonight." I
offered a few suggestions, and they sputtered off in an old
rust-colored car that had been covered in stickers (e.g., 'Visu

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141
alize Whirled Peas') and painted with slogans (e.g., 'can't take
it anymore world tour').
I have had numerous similar encounters around town and
many more in the course of my own travels. And though each

chance meeting is uniquely indicative in its own right, there is
a definite commonality, a continuity that makes a series of
such encounters seem more like a single ongoing conversation
than a set of discrete dialogues. Despite the nomadic and
diasporic nature of the Rainbow Family "tribe" and the con

stant flux of names and faces at Gatherings, there is a certain
Rainbow Nation cultural "identity" that is grounded in ap
pearance, dress, demeanor, and aura, as well as an ideological
identity based on a minimalist lifestyle, a relationship with

nature, and a spiritual consciousness that incorporates elements
of Native American traditional, Eastern mystical, and medi
eval pagan religious philosophies and cosmologies; nonethe
less, the Gatherings are "Always Free" and open to all (cf. Niman
1997). An important common thread, perhaps the linchpin
of Rainbow identity, is the vocabulary; members of the 'tribe'
speak a common language, using signs and signifiers that dem

onstrate authenticity and kinship (see Niman 1997:239, who
has compiled a Rainbow Glossary, and see also Flynt 1969:381,
discussing the 'tramp's jargon' of the late 1800s and compil

ing a glossary of the same). This phenomenon no doubt in
part gives the many segemented conversations that quality of

smoothness and continuity which I have observed.
A Stranger's Story: Life Meets Art, and the
Religion of Love
Out for a stroll around the campus of a certain
large south
western university on a bright spring afternoon, I noticed a
— crocheted Rastafarian
young man attired in hippie garb

142
hat, torn corduroy pants, tie-dyed shirt — sitting against a
large backpack and with numerous handcrafted objects artis

tically placed on a colorful blanket at his feet. I sat down next
to him and asked if we could 'rap' a bit. He introduced him
self as 'Blossom' from Cleveland, Ohio, and said that he was
trying to raise money to get to Hawaii, where he hoped to 'live

with God, pick fruit, and learn the native arts.' Blossom is a
self-described 'artist and a nomad like the Lord,' who prac
tices a non-denominational philosophy of'survivalism and anti
competition,' living a 'simple existence' and 'treading lightly
on the Earth, our Mother.' Asked to characterize his religious
creed in general, Blossom simply says, "Love."
I wondered if he saw his work/life as a form of protest or
resistance. "Those people in power can't cope with chaos, and
I guess that's what I represent. It's about change, and in these
times it all has to change. The structures and institutions give
the appearance of reality, restricting the body, but they can
never contain the spirit. It's amazing how we've regressed. We're
crazy." He believes that it's crucial to 'be open to all things,'

and that life is 'a one-way tunnel' that takes us toward 'evolu
tion, advancement, and compassion.' When asked if he sees
himself and others like him as vanguards of a future society,
Blossom shies away from the question's implication of per
sonal glory or elevated status, but notes that there is 'a wis
dom, a tribal hunter-gatherer wisdom, that needs to be pre

served in order for a new society to grow after the apocalypse
we're heading for.' His life strategy is that 'you've got to be
willing to give up what you've got in order to advance.'

When I asked for more information about his actual work
product (i.e., his art), Blossom showed me a number of color
fully woven wands, hand-sewn pouches, and crystal wraps that

he makes as he goes and that 'travel well.' He says that each

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143
item 'takes hours but that 'putting myself into

and hours,'
each work is what it's all about.' He also produced from his
pack a children's book that he wrote and illustrated, called
Walking Softly. The book was beautifully covered in black vel

vet with gems and amulets affixed on both front and back,
and was tied together with black leather twine. The illustra
tions, five in all, were skillfully rendered with fine pen strokes
and water colors, and were sprinkled with glitter and sealed
with a thin enamel glaze. The book itself was about a small
boy from the forest who was awed by 'the great web of life'
and saw all things as 'intertwined in an eternal balance,' com
ing in the end to learn that life was about 'walking softly and
caring for the land.' Blossom made no attempt to conceal the
'metaphorically autobiographical' nature of his work, noting
that 'we experience life by living it, writing about it, and pro
ducing it.'
Blossom strongly believes that 'everything has meaning,'
that what we produce 'conveys meaning,' and that 'what we
do with our lives matters.' He calls humanity 'one great tribe,'
and notes that 'we need to help each other to overcome ob
in the spirit of 'love, compassion,
stacles' and kindness.' I
found this young man to be intelligent and articulate, full of
conviction yet demonstrating a reassuring gentleness. As I
rose to leave, a friend of mine approached; I introduced her
and the three of us fell into a long embrace. I purchased one
of Blossom's artistic creations (a beautiful
woven pouch) for
my friend, telling him to think of us when he gets to Hawaii.

I said that I hoped we'd cross paths again, and Blossom said
that he was sure we would, since 'we'll meet at least in the time
With that, I flashed him a peace sign and a smile,
of salvation.'
and my friend and I rode off.

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144
When the Sadness has a Face

I often feel sad after I see 'Cowboy.' I'm not sure if it derives
from empathy, guilt, or both. Cowboy is one of the many
homeless and dispossessed souls wandering the streets of our
cities and towns. But unlike the many, to me Cowboy has a
face and a name and a story to tell. He has transcended the
look-the-other-way status accorded most in his condition; he

has become an actual person. But more than that, he is a friend.
We talk about philosophy, politics, music, and art, and unlike
many of my 'regular' friends, Cowboy truly understands when

I go off on one of my endless pontifications about the decay
ing fabric of our particular form of 'civilization.' He and I

talk without the suspicious and predatory formalities evident
in typical contact between gainfully employed social-climb
ers; we communicate as mere equals, a practice seemingly for
gotten in our world of social hierarchies attendant to the divi

sion of labor.
Cowboy has been on the street for seven years (you know,
the "usual" progression: childhood poverty, drug habit, long
stretch in prison, psychological scars, social alienation, unem
ployability, homelessness). He recently turned 50, and the

toll on his existence may soon finish him, if something doesn't
change. He has been repeatedly robbed, beaten (sometimes

—
by those charged with protecting our citizens apparently
'citizen' doesn't include people like Cowboy), set on fire,
stabbed, and has suffered coundess illnesses and infections; he

has been spit on and cursed at; he sleeps on cold concrete,
even in the chill of winter; he is constrained to use the streets
as a bathroom. He has seemingly suffered every possible deg
radation at the hands of our callous world, a world that some
times seems intent on dehumanizing those like Cowboy so

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145
that the rest of us are able to sleep at night.

And still, Cowboy has survived, his dignity at times amaz
ingly intact. He is in all respects a fascinating man, replete

with colorful stories — he claims that he was in the movie
Shaft, and that he was personal friends with certain members

of the Grateful Dead (I actually verified the latter in a bizarre
personal encounter with the band's

last keyboardist, Vince
Welnick, but that's a tale for another time) — such that you
would ordinarily disbelieve him except that he speaks with
such clarity and offers such detail that skepticism is often dis
armed. When you walk through the streets with him, he talks
to everyone: "How are you today, sir?" "Let me light that for
you, ma'am." "Thatis a lovely hat, young lady." When he has

a few dollars and a full stomach, he gives to those wretched
and infirm cup-shaking souls even less fortunate than himself.
There are times when I envy Cowboy, his freedom and inde
— the whole town is his
pendence, his mobility backyard! In
many ways he has risen above the mundane and soul-less
ratrace, experiencing life with all of his senses and with an
exciting measure of unpredictability. I told him this one day;

he silently took my arm and showed me the dumpster he some
times sleeps behind.
Cowboy and me, we have slowly breached the barriers of

our disparate worlds and become friends. I remember one
day in the beginning, when he jokingly asked when I would

invite him over for dinner, and I balked, obviously and harshly,
and then offered some pathetic excuse. I realized that I had
offended him, not by refusing his request but by lying to him,
so I told him the truth: that people like me have been taught
all their lives to be afraid of people like him, and that that
training can't be unlearned overnight. Cowboy cried; they

were tears of knowing, and relief. And I first experienced those

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feelings of empathy, of guilt, that can only be aroused when

the sadness has a face.
Unsung Heroes and

the Occupation of Public Space
A small kiosk, probably intended as a bus stop covering or
pedestrian sun shelter, sits on the sidewalk along my town's

main 'strip' of stores, bars, and restaurants. Almost any time,
day or night, one can observe there at least a few vagrants,

assorted street people, and other 'homeless engineers.' Some
times they are sleeping on the benches under the kiosk, propped
up against battered old backpacks or stuffed nylon sacks, and

every now and then some will panhandle passively, but mostly
they are either sitting quiedy watching the scene along the
strip or are engaged in a conversation among themselves. On
weekend nights, when the strip is at its bar-hopping busiest,
the enclave often swells beyond the kiosk, with temporary visi
tors and transient travelers joining the core local homeless con
tingent. You might see them sitting on blankets giving "hair
wraps" or trading beads and crystals; a spontaneous "drum

circle" might form; and sometimes spirited dancing ensues.
While similar scenes
might be commonplace in meccas
such as Berkeley, Madison, or Eugene, such happenings are
relatively rare in my 'law and order' town, where "cruising"

laws are strictly enforced and one can actually be ticketed for
jaywalking or faulty bicycle reflectors. Particularly anachro

nistic is that the local enclave is positioned in the heart of the
town's gentrified chain stores and Disneyfied neon lights, and
the kiosk's immediateneighbor to the north is a large and omi
nous looking Bank of America. Periodically, perhaps once or
twice per month, busts are made, summonses are issued, and
the enclave is dispersed. Moreover, as part of an ongoing at
tempt to legislate the problem away, the town City Council,

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147
at the urging of local merchants' associations, recently passed

an ordinance that prohibits sitting on the sidewalks near busi
—
nesses (ASU State Press, 8/28/98) punishable by up to 30
days in prison and a $500 fine. Previous legislative responses
have included a ban on "urban camping" that was passed last
year; a proposed anti-dog ordinance (many homeless kids ap

parendy have dogs) that ultimately failed due to resistance from
local merchants and dog lovers alike; and ordinances prohibit
ing panhandling within 15 feet of ATMs and bus stops, as

well as making physical contact with or blocking the way of
passersby illegal. (The U.S. Supreme Court has upheld ordi

nances prohibiting "aggressive panhandling," although the right
to non-aggressively ask for a handout is still constitutionally
protected free speech). The anti-sitting ordinance represents

the most recent pretextual attempt to crack down on the street
people.
The problem for legislators is how to force these transients
and marginals from the main strip without discouraging
middle-class shoppers and college barflies from frequenting
the downtown area, and without
creating ordinances that vio
late the First Amendments free speech and assembly provi
sions or that are so vaguely (or broadly) worded as to be unen
forceable. The attempt to ban sitting on a public sidewalk
squarely raises these pragmatic and constitutional concerns,

and parallels the difficulties encountered by similar anti-sit
ting bans such as the one adopted in Berkeley, CA, which was
ultimately repealed by the city council there due to concerns
over constitutionality as well as the appropriateness of "police
crackdowns" as a response to the issue (see Street Spirit, 8/98).
What is particularly confounding to many — including legis
lators, law enforcement, and social service agencies — is the
intentionality often expressed by "street" denizens the conscious

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choice many have made to "opt out" of the dominant culture,

and the fact that many such intentional urban squatters are
kids, sometimes called 'crusties.' 'The crusties' real crime . . .

is their lack of interest in the American dream. That indiffer
ence holds a mirror up to the rest of us and calls into question
the central assumption of our culture, that everyone wants a
job, a home, a car, and the identity that goes with them. If
they would just value what the rest of us work so hard for, we
could forgive them. But they don't, and that makes some people
very angry' (.Phoenix New Times, 3/12/98, Letter to the Edi

tor).
The importance of these issues is underscored by the pub
lic dimension of the current controversy, playing out in the
most public of places, the classic First Amendment "public
forum" for the encouragement of a "marketplace of ideas" —
the sidewalk along a public right-of-way. These street dwellers
are dissenters in the classical sense of the word: they challenge
popular conceptions of what constitutes the "good life" by
opting out of mainstream society and searching for alternative

ways of surviving. (The Cynics of ancient Greece similarly
resisted the dominant culture of their time, leading lives of
voluntary poverty, begging for alms in the town squares and
public markets, and sleeping in the open alongside roads and
byways.) Are we prepared to say that the needs of business

and commerce outweigh the rights of citizens to gather peace
ably in public settings? Is the flow of dollars and merchandise

the only indicator of value in deciding how to balance com
peting interests over public space? Are there other important

values raised by this controversy that merit our attention?
The intentionality of many of the so-called "Mill Rats"
and other urban homeless enclaves, as well as the linguistic
and cultural patterns unique to the setting (Holthouse 1998a,

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149
1998b; Street Spirit 1998), constitute a certain "urban nomad"
identity that is rife with meaning and well-suited for ethno

graphic study. Connected to this quality of intentionality is
the essentially expressive nature of the urban nomad lifestyle.
There are people who would rather live in the margins than
partake of a culture whose central premise often appears to be

the consumption and destruction of the natural world. A re
cent article on "Young Urban Squatters" in the Berkeley paper
Street Spirit (August 1998) notes that "what they are rebelling
against is the kind of oppression that traps most people into

those 'lives of quiet desperation'" thatThoreau warned us about
in the early days of industrialization, and goes on to observe
that for many of these street kids, "spanging" (i.e., spare-chang
ing) represents "a more ethical way to get food and pocket
money than working for a corporation." For every kid on the
street who fits the "suburban slacker"
stereotype, one can of
ten locate another who can articulate the conscientious dis
sent that is implicitly part of the lifestyle. Consider the words
of "Shadow" from an interview with Street Spirit-.
I should be working and dying for their cancer: nine-to

five, with nothing to say, nowhere to go? No thanks. I hate
the vacant lies of social necessity — the filling of socially
imposed inner holes with their products, fulfilling the role
of the consumer model. I will not subscribe to their para
dise of plastic and infrastructure. . . . We live simply. We
live relatively free. We are the faces of an idea: using what is
there instead of perpetuating more waste, and not falling
for the subjugation of self the capitalist mentality thrives
upon, the loss of sense, the bereavement of mind. We at

tempt to sustain an economic system outside of 'the sys
tem.' To travel and build a viable community for ourselves,
whereas alienation is so prevalent in this society. It all may
sound somewhat idealistic — it may not. But we try.

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A recent Phoenix New Times cover story on the "Mill Rats"
(Holthouse 1998a) similarly quotes "Chris," a homeless kid

who grew up in the Valley: "I could be in college right now if
I wanted. But I've played that game, and I realized that this
Babylonian societal paradigm of a sorry excuse for what we

call 'civilization' is a bunch of bullshit. These
are the last days
of Rome, man. The fiddle player's warming up, you know
what I'm saying? And when all this shit comes crashing down,
it's the street kids who will build a new world." From the
same article, "Phinius" continues: "We are the forerunners of
a frontier yet unseen. That is us. That is our people. That is
our tribe. We live and travel in a world of truth, and that is so
rare in these times." Likewise Lobo (in Holthouse 1998b),
found wearing a tee shirt that read "I used to be a White Ameri
can, but I gave it up in the interest of humanity," who became
a traveler "because I want nothing to do with the mind-numb
ing, 9 to 5, human treadmill of the American socioeconomic

system of individual oppression." Seen in this light, it be
comes apparent that the activities engaged in by these urban
nomads — opting out, spanging, congregating in public —
can be considered classical forms of expression that merit First
Amendment protection. Whether we agree with their ideas is
irrelevant; in fact, it is precisely those ideas that most trouble

us and challenge our ordinary perceptions that deserve the high
est degree of constitutional protection.
But beyond all of these specifically legal contentions, the
truly startling aspect of the Main Street enclave is its obvious

ness. By occupying an interstitial space — that is, a space that
— as with
has been abandoned, forgotten, or unclaimed many
squatters' movements and other quasi-permanent vagrant en
campments, a person or group makes a strong statement about
property rights and alternative forms of living. By doing it in

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151
a public space, as with Rainbow Gatherings on National For

est land and the many street-side enclaves in towns through
out America, the implications are further expanded to include
fundamental constitutional questions of free expression and
association. When a group of rag-tag drummers, homeless
vets, down and out drunks, new age travelers, and young neo
hippies congregate publicly, they acquire standing to assert le

gal rights of free expression and association that we all value,
and serve as active defenders of civil liberties that are fast con
tracting with the rapid expansion of state and corporate con

trol of space. In this sense, the Main Street enclave emerge as
unlikely heroes in the struggle for the preservation of public
space.
Conclusion:
Resistance Strategies and Thoughts of the Future
Previously, I asserted that "Vagrant and transient life-ways, in

their unboundedness, immediatism, minimalism, and fluid
ity, are harbingers of the kind of organic decisionmaking, de

centralized power, spontaneous creative energy, and spatio-tem
poral play that a Utopian social (dis)order built on a rejection
of domination contemplates." Rather than attempt to verify
or validate this statement as a hypothesis, I have sought here
to let the stories tell themselves, and to discern patterns and
interconnections emerging from my experiences and encoun
ters that cohere with my particular lens. Such parallels include
the knowing, almost telepathic interactions among Kristen and
her traveling companions; Blossom s "one love" philosophy and
spirit of openness; Cowboys sense of adventure and his adapt
ability; and the guerrilla-theater aesthetic of the Main Street

enclave. But perhaps even more
telling is what these stories
and settings universally lack. There is no authoritarianism here,

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152
no technology fetishism, no mechanical time or personal or
ganizers, no routinization, no bureaucratization, no impetus

to dominate, no myth of human superiority. In this sense, a
nascent revolution of "refusal" can be discerned in the seem
ingly mundane places of our lives. My ongoing research will

continue to explore the parameters of this unique form of re
sistance.
Acknowledgements
Thanks are due, in no particular order, to Pat Lauderdale, David

Altheide, Cecilia Menjivar, Dennis Palumbo, LisaAbeling, and
the anonymous referees and editors at HJSR, whose comments
and suggestions were integral to the development of this essay.
The center for Urban Inquiry at Arizona State University pro
vided support for part of this work. A special note of thanks
also goes out to my brothers and sisters of the streets, side
walks, highways, and byways, without whom the road trav
eled would be much lonelier and far less colorful.
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Department of Sociology, Humboldt State University

Ethnography at the Margins: Vagabonds, Transients, and the Specter of Resistance

This content downloaded from 141.101.201.12 on Sat, 28 Jun 2014 11:35:52 AM

analyzing these subjects against an epistemological framework

viability of notions of 'public space.' Implicit in the study are

dramaturgy, with a focus on both the 'data' obtained and the

process(es) by which it was produced and acquired. The study

respects embody both the conditions of an anti-systemic resistance

This content downloaded from 141.101.201.12 on Sat, 28 Jun 2014 11:35:52 AM

Sociological inquiry is never undertaken in a vacuum, but is

neutrality, always biased. Indeed, it might be said that a re

only things worse than having these objectivity impediments

idy reject in their explicit rejection of positivism. In short,

oping an "epistemological lens" or "interpretive framework"

(Denzin & Lincoln 1994:13), and the concept oi"foreknowl

edge of the historical situation or context of the text" that arises

tity and culture, forms of living, Utopian social movements,

digm that is characterized by market economies, private prop

Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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erty, and centralized state authority. Of particular interest in

diminishing privacy rights and the decline of public space.

imaginaries can still be relevant in promoting social transfor

being mooted by globalization, surveillance technologies, and

(with its subsidiary "Free Store"), seems to attract more than

gender, holding a scruffy puppy on a tattered hemp leash and

Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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asking for a cigarette or directions to the nearest blood plasma

ing on cardboard boxes in the shadowy regions of the neigh

police authorities. The second vignette is an interview ac

hopefulness and liberation. The fourth section is a dramatur

grants who frequently gather on public sidewalks along the

methodology is warranted. My overriding aim here is to main

Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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tain a correspondence between the methodologies employed and

groups being studied. I have yet to encounter a discussion of

Feyerabend is sometimes taken as a methodological "anarchist"

ably be more accurate to refer to him as a "pluralist" (see Diesing

1991:47-52). In a recent review of various qualitative "inter

pretive paradigms," Denzin and Lincoln (1994:13) include

posture, and the promotion of emancipatory aims (id.). In

propriate for a sociological study of vagrants, transients, and

Humboldt Journal of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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The Researcher's Role.

cially constructed) world are also symbols from specific con

texts, this too becomes part of the phenomena studied empiri

cally, and incorporated into the research reports" (Altheide &

Johnson 1994:489). As noted above, a certain (methodologi

being avoided as threats to scientific objectivity, such bias is

ports and write-ups as a necessary counterpart of the 'data'

sistency in our observations and disclose our positions relative

dren, Rainbow gypsies, hippies, and other marginals, I have

ters, a kindredness of spirit that I believe accounts in large part

1994:382-3, discussing how Simmel's "position in society" as

Humboldt of Social Relations — Volume 25, Number 1

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casual conversations than interviews, and even when I openly

again, observing Goffmans tendency toward "unsystematic,

ing inattentive to methodology"). The bad news is that the

very qualities that provide me with entree and the establish