Introduction

The concept of resilience has become an important topic in anthropological community studies in the last twenty years. Although it is a useful analytical tool, it has its limitations that are worth pointing out. In many research fields, this concept has undoubtedly broadened the analytical toolkit of anthropologists and has shed light on the fact that decision-making processes can be interpreted at the community level (Dormady et al. 2021). It has also helped to identify successful or unsuccessful responses in disaster situations (Oliver-Smith 1996) and has enabled measurable and comparable phenomena to be studied that were previously captured only through qualitative means (Daly 2020). Additionally, it has provided researchers with a new tool to study and interpret communities and their physical and natural environments simultaneously (Maxwell 2018).

The concept of resilience has gained significant popularity in recent decades, particularly in research, applied studies, and decision-making. However, this popularity has led to the overuse of the concept, which requires a closer examination of its limitations in terms of explanatory power. Before delving into the limitations of resilience, it is important to address the question of the analytical value and epistemological limitations of concepts in anthropological discourse in general. This is particularly important for anthropological research in the humanities and social sciences.

Since the reflexive turn, the conceptualization and use of concepts in anthropological research have faced several internal and external criticisms. On the one hand, critics have questioned whether it is possible to capture the experiences of diverse lifeworlds in a coherent and conceptual manner. On the other hand, the archaeology of analytic concepts used in anthropology is also of interest. Where do they come from, and what meaning do they carry beyond and by their anthropological use?

Anthropological research often utilizes terms that were initially not developed in European scholarly discourse. The use of these terms raises questions not only about their analytical value outside their own context and in a different epistemological system but also about their relationship to their original meaning within their respective communities. Fundamentally, it is important to determine whether these terms had any established analytical value in those communities or whether this was merely attributed to them by academic thinking.

As a result, the question of whether and how the original meaning of terms taken from non-European academic contexts can be restored has often led to unproductive debates. It is not surprising that the origin of terms such as mana (Keesing 1984), hau (Mauss 2015; Holbraad 2020), or even shaman (Eliade 2020) and their true meaning have been the subject of recurring debates among scholars, sometimes spanning decades.

Another way of anthropological domestication of analytical concepts is when researchers start to use certain terms from the conceptual apparatus of other scientific discourses and disciplines to describe and capture a phenomenon. This domestication can be done by giving new meanings to these terms, such as the etic and emic terms created from the duality of the concepts phonemic and phonetic (Harris 1976), or by exploiting the rich nuances of the original term in the light of the experiences and data gathered in the fieldwork. This way of unfolding new contexts characterizes, for example, the anthropological life course of the concept of Lebenswelt (Jackson 2012).

Sometimes, in the repeated usage of certain notions, it is easy to forget that they are analytical concepts originating from European analytical scientific thought. As a result, it can become unclear whether these terms are simply tools or they are fragments of reality that exist everywhere. This leads to the use of certain analytical terms that researchers use to identify the phenomena under investigation even before the research has begun. The problem with this approach is that it often corresponds to the natural disposition of the European observer. This is especially true for terms such as kinship or culture. Some scholars, including Schneider (1984), Descola (2013), and Sahlins (2013), have highlighted this issue.

Everyday knowledge, without a doubt, forms the background of research. Scientific and logical concepts inevitably emerge within the scientific community's lifeworld and the practice of research (Schutz 1954:265), leading to unclear situations, especially in anthropology. Researchers may assume the existence of phenomena as a given, which should be formulated as verified statements during investigation.

Anthropology's commitment to using concepts linked to European scientific thought and epistemology raises questions about their application in the social sciences (Hempel 1965:155–160). The use of concepts that have crystallized in the epistemology of European scientific discourse in the anthropological analysis of ethnography in other communities is not an unproblematic procedure. The next chapter, therefore, problematize the epistemic limitations of anthropological concepts.

The difficulties and limitations of anthropological terminology

Anthropology holds a unique position among the various fields of humanities as it is not just limited to the researcher's analytical perspective or voice. Instead, it seeks to incorporate the voices of those who may not have been heard or represented in the scientific discourse. It is equally important for anthropologists to convey perspectives other than their own, which is crucial in comprehending the lifeworlds that are created together during fieldwork. Finding ways to convey this understanding is a significant challenge that anthropologists face. They use conceptualization and language as the most common method to convey local ideas, practices, and skills.

However, in recent decades, there has been criticism about the commitment of anthropological research towards conceptualization and abstraction. Critics argue that these methods cannot fully capture the constantly changing lifeworlds, as they are in a constant state of flux. Therefore, conceptual capture inevitably portrays a distorted picture of the researcher's experiences during fieldwork, which may not be conceptually captured or reflected upon. This criticism has been articulated by scholars such as Kirsten Hastrup (Hastrup 1992) and Lucien Taylor (Taylor 1996).

When a researcher adopts a linguistic and conceptual method to capture local lifeworlds, and her/his experiences (s)he faces several challenges. One such challenge is understanding the relationship between ethnographical description, recording, and anthropological interpretation. The researcher must consider how their particular fieldwork experiences may contribute to the operation of conceptual systems and the conduct of anthropological discourses.

Another challenge that arises is the process of inductive reasoning. The researcher must determine how the ethnographies produced by conceptual grasp can generate general theories (Sivado 2015). Additionally, anthropological research practice often assumes a one-way flow of information, leading to pairs of opposites in anthropological discourses. This separation results in the observer/analyzing Self objectifying and essentializing the people with whom they co-create the lifeworld of the fieldwork (Chua – Mathur 2018).

Over time, this separation leads to anthropological concepts losing their distinctiveness and illuminating power (Jackson 2021). The classical anthropological perspective on how the process of conceptualizing different lifeworlds should be carried out, involves several stages. First, the researcher must conceptualize and translate the fieldwork experience. Then, they need to arrange and abstract ideas about the culture. Finally, they must compare and contrast it with another known system (Evans-Pritchards 1963). Understanding the challenges of these steps has been crucial for researchers who aimed to conduct anthropological fieldwork, and then reflect on the epistemic value of anthropological writing.

This procedure has advantages but also some drawbacks. I will highlight two of them. Firstly, the process of capturing, translating, and organizing local ideas into a general and systematic framework can be problematic. This is because the lifeworlds of fieldwork may not be truly systematic. Secondly, the traditional way of defining a concept by determining its necessary and sufficient conditions can be difficult when it comes to capturing fieldwork experiences (Rapport – Overing 2000:viii‒ix). In fieldwork, it is almost impossible to define the essence or the most basic individuation conditions of the entities, actions, and experiences that are covered by a concept (Burge 1993:311). This is because anthropological research aims to observe contexts that are difficult to reconcile sociocultural, cognitive, and ontological backgrounds. Therefore, it is almost impossible to establish transcultural definitions of concepts by defining their essence or sufficient conditions.

In short, it is as important to define the value and utility of a concept used in anthropological discourse as it is to point out its limitations. This is particularly true for concepts that are rapidly gaining considerable popularity among the academic community. As Edward LiPuma convincingly points out, the need for contrastive presentation plays a significant role in spreading and popularising anthropological concepts (LiPuma 1998). Researchers seek to rhetorically contrast a phenomenon – observed in a particular ethnography – with another ethnography or with the existing understandings of anthropology. Field and theory fetishization of the kind “we used to know it this way – but now we see that” or “unlike in other cases, here it is recognizable” are not uncommon but worth avoiding strategies of argumentation in anthropology.

In the following chapters, I will argue that the anthropological use of the concept of resilience raises as many questions as it solves. First, I will contrast the concept of resilience with anthropological approaches to society and community. I will then show how the phenomenological anthropological approach helps to grasp the community and its resilience by starting from the most important entity to be understood in fieldwork, the human being. Later, I will then turn my attention to the description of decision-making processes and the observation of long time spans, and finally, I will reflect on the value of the concept of resilience in light of the fieldwork experiences I have been a shaper of and a participant in.

Communities and individuals – the scope of anthropological concepts

As we discuss a community's ability to withstand and recover from challenges (i.e. resilience), we must consider the roles of social connections and the systematic structure of larger social forms. This, again, raises questions about whether communities have unique characteristics beyond those of their individual members and life strategies, and if so, how do we identify and interpret them? Additionally, we must consider how anthropology, which primarily relies less on hard, quantitative data, can best contribute to our understanding of the functioning of communities.

There are two main approaches to researching changes in a community, both of which have a rich research legacy in anthropology: systematic studies examining entire communities and methods that focus on individual life strategies and decision-making. In the following pages, I argue that studying individual choices and life strategies may provide us with a more insightful understanding of a community's perspective than a systemic study based on external categories.

This debate also touches on a longstanding anthropological question about the nature of community and society. Anthropologists have grappled with the idea of a “superorganic” entity above the individual since the work of Émile Durkheim.¹ This concept has influenced the ways that anthropologists describe and understand communities.

When we talk about the resilience of a community, we must take into account the complex interplay between social connections and larger systems. This raises important questions about whether communities have unique, time-varying characteristics that are distinct from those of individual members. If they do, then how can we identify and understand these characteristics? Moreover, how can anthropology, a field that often relies on less tangible data, contribute to our understanding of community processes and dynamics? In Durkheim's well-known discussion of social facts, he delves into the intricacies of collective life and social institutions. He emphasizes that these phenomena cannot be reduced to the psychology of individual members. Rather, social groups possess structural properties that shape the behavior and experience of individuals within them. These properties include norms, values, and ongoing social relationships that place constraints on individuals and guide their actions. It is through the complex interplay of these factors that social order emerges. This emergent nature of social life means that the collective whole is greater than the sum of its individual parts (Thorlindsson – Bernburg 2004:271–272; Durkheim 1982:236, 247).

Metaphorically speaking, the combination of copper and tin to form bronze highlights a crucial aspect of the Durkheimian perspective on society. These metals cannot be combined without welding, and the result is an alloy that creates a unique quality, bronze, with distinct properties. These properties are imposed upon all the alloy's elements, and they work together to create a compelling force that shapes the material. In fact, we may use bimetal as a metaphor to understand social processes. Bimetal is an object made up of two distinct metals joined together. Unlike alloys, a bimetallic strip is made up of layers of different metals. The properties of the strip depend on the unique qualities of each metal, but the two (reacting to outside effects, like heating) also have new qualities because they are joined together.

From Durkheim's approach, we can derive a social theory that proposes that the perception of social phenomena and use of concepts is only possible in a social context by exploring the totality of their social context. The question is how to explain the compelling nature of social facts and the concepts that capture them. Durkheim argues that the apparatus responsible for the compelling nature of our categorical concepts is the result of collective choices, not individual ones. This apparatus gains its capacity to influence individual choices through its continuous presence and operation. In this way, society creates a common space where minds and intentions meet, and consciousnesses are united. This space is not tied to an individual but is subject to a set of rules that individuals must follow. This understanding of society presupposes the possibility of a fusion in the collective consciousness.

Ernest Gellner suggests that the concepts that describe society are, in a sense, institutions. They provide a permanent framework for social life and are independent of the individual. Individual life strategies are subordinate to these institutions. In other words, descriptive concepts correlate with all the institutions of a society. Therefore, understanding how a society works is also a way to understand its institutions through its concepts (Gellner 2003:20–21).

The functionalist approach established a method for describing social phenomena and ensured that the concepts describing them remained constant. By redefining the institutions of a society, it became possible to understand its functioning and institutions through analytical concepts in fieldwork. For instance, the resilience of a society or community can be viewed as a systemic phenomenon that is not dependent on individual choices.

However, Marcel Mauss, Durkheim's direct disciple, argued in his work on the gift that society is not a fixed system of rules and institutions that individuals inhabit but a dynamic network woven together by individual acts and choices. According to him, the phenomenon of gift-giving can be abstracted from a colorful multiplicity of individual decisions, and the “gift” as a social institution does not impose a pattern of strict rules on individuals (Mauss 2015).

Tim Ingold's approach to anthropological research is unique and innovative, as it challenges traditional notions of social entities and institutions. His epistemological experiment involves focusing on interconnections and life trajectories rather than individuals existing as separate entities (Ingold 2016). According to Ingold, anthropology should not examine a set of larger or smaller, essentially discrete entities but rather a web of intertwining or overlapping lines. To put it metaphorically, anthropology does not examine a set of alloy-like social entities that interact with each other but rather temporal progressions that intertwine more or less.

Ingold's social theory emphasizes the mutable temporality of human correspondence (Ingold 2017), rather than a congruent system of supra-individual social institutions. He believes that any concept that provides a research framework for the whole of a society or community must be the object of study itself. In other words, any theory that aims to understand the underlying patterns and structures of a society or community must be examined and analyzed in detail.

Overall, Ingold's approach to anthropology is centered around understanding the interconnectedness of human life trajectories. By focusing on temporal progressions rather than discrete entities, he challenges traditional notions of social entities and institutions and provides a new framework for understanding human societies and communities.

Phenomenological approach and resilience

Phenomenological approaches in anthropology involve a unique research methodology where the primary focus is on studying individuals. By gathering data on individuals, researchers can gain insights into the broader community and its cultural practices. This method allows researchers to understand the subjective experiences of individuals and how they relate to the collective experiences of their community. By examining the individual's perception of the world around them, researchers can gain a deeper understanding of the social and cultural dynamics of the community as a whole. Michael Jackson described this procedure as follows: “No matter what significance we attach to discourse or culture, the phenomenal world of human consciousness and activity is never reducible to that which allegedly determines the condition of its possibility. Even if one tried to expunge the subject from one's discourse, it is one's own subjectivity which accomplishes the expulsion. Every argument for the death of the subject is authored by a human subject.” (Jackson 1996:22). The author's examination of the totemism of the Kurankos of West Africa reveals that the traditional view of totemism as a limiting and classifying system is fairly one-sided. Rather, totemism is a dynamic and ever-changing phenomenon that is shaped by subsequent individual choices. The author raises the problem of the fact that totemism is not a static system but is constantly evolving over time. The slow modification of totemism is influenced by a multiplicity of individual choices that reflect the changing social, cultural, and economic conditions of the Kurankos. This understanding of totemism as a constantly renewing phenomenon challenges the traditional view of totemism as a fixed structure, part of the institutions of society (Jackson 1978).

In order to gain a deeper understanding of community processes through a phenomenological approach, it is necessary to undertake a thorough investigation of the field by accumulating and comparing fieldwork experiences. This can be achieved by interpreting individual life journeys and decision situations with an interconnected approach, allowing researchers to discover fundamental differences by examining the intricacies of everyday lifeworlds. It is important to note that individuals do not exist in isolation, and by examining the details of their everyday lives, we can gain valuable insights into the workings of the community: “Yet the dailiness, by breaking coherence and introducing time, trains our gaze on flux and contradiction; and the particulars suggest that others live as we perceive ourselves living not as automatons programmed according to “cultural” rules or acting out social roles, but as people going through life wondering what they should do, making mistakes, being opinionated, vacillating, trying to make themselves look good, enduring tragic personal losses, enjoying others, and finding moments of laughter” (Abu-Lughod 1993:22).

The central issue at hand is how the concept of resilience, as a phenomenon, can be understood through an anthropological approach that emphasizes the agency and experiences of individuals. More specifically, how can we gain insight into community resilience by examining the network of individual choices and strategies contributing to it?

To address this question, it is important to have a clear understanding of the phenomena that anthropology tends to encapsulate through the concept of resilience. In the field of anthropology, the term “community resilience” is most commonly used to describe a community's ability to respond to crises. In other words, resilience refers to a community's capacity to endure disasters with minimal damage and impact (Cutter et al. 2008:599). This capacity can be interpreted as having two facets: first, how the community can maintain its unique characteristics during a challenging period, and second, how it can respond to the consequences it inevitably faces.

The concept of resilience captures two sides of the same coin, namely conservation and active response. On the one hand, resilience describes a state of being that is at risk of unsustainability, while on the other hand, it represents the way and extent to which a community can withstand challenges. As a result, individuals are often portrayed as both the architects of socio-natural change and its primary victims in research on resilience and descriptions of specific communities. Therefore, it is crucial to understand how active approaches to resilience offer valuable insights for researchers when they examine the phenomena that resilience aims to describe from an individual perspective.

The dichotomy between response and conservation is a complex issue that depends on the impact on the community. This impact can be either external or internal (Karsai et al. 2020). External influences affect the system under study in such a way that the self-regulation of the system cannot have a significant impact. For example, during my fieldwork in Yakutia and Tanda, I observed how global climate change and the creation and disintegration of the Soviet Union were external factors that village communities could not control or influence. On the other hand, internal factors arise from specific interactions between the parts of the system itself and thus affect the community as a whole. For instance, in Tanda, I observed tensions arising from internal power conflicts within the kinship and neighborhood organization, which emerged during the creation of villages or later in the 1990s when new farms were organized.

The concept of resilience has had a fruitful impact on scientific discussions, especially in the study of natural disasters. Anthropologists have found this concept to be a useful tool to mediate a systemic approach (Mayena 2006:434). This approach has primarily exploited the analytical possibilities the concept offers to measure the capacity to confront collective trauma (Cardona 2003). In other words, using the concept of resilience has enabled researchers to move from qualitative characteristics to quantitative, measurable data (Sherrieb et al. 2010:228). However, the study of individual strategies needs to be more present in this approach. Therefore, the question arises as to how an anthropological approach that focuses primarily on individuals can usefully revolve around the concept of resilience.

Longitudinal field studies and individual strategies

The use of the concept of resilience poses a specific challenge that requires careful consideration. One of the primary difficulties is to determine the appropriate time period to consider when evaluating a community's resilience. A community's specific characteristics may be lost over a long period of time, as it is subject to various internal or external crises that challenge the sustainability of its social structure. Thus, it is crucial to select an appropriate time span that accurately reflects the community's resilience.

It is essential to note that the idea of communities being frozen in time or incapable of development and progress is no longer valid. This outdated notion is a product of anthropological epistemology, which has been slowly abandoned in favor of a more dynamic and comprehensive understanding of communities. We must, therefore, be mindful of the changing perspectives and adapt our approach accordingly to ensure that we remain relevant and effective in our evaluation of community resilience (Fabian 1983).

For almost a century, anthropologists have studied how individual communities and cultures adapt to changing environments, social norms, and technological advancements (Steward 1955; White 1959; Cohen 1974). These adaptations are crucial for the sustainability of cultures and societies. Over time, the study of adaptation has become more nuanced, focusing on the differences between macro- and micro-adaptation (DeWalt – Pelto 1985). Researchers are now looking at how the concept of resilience fits into this discourse. Resilience is the ability of a community or culture to recover from challenges and maintain their way of life. By studying resilience, anthropologists hope to gain a better understanding of how different communities and cultures adapt and thrive in the face of adversity.

To gain a comprehensive understanding of the anthropological perspective of longer time spans and the concept of resilience, it is crucial to examine two factors in depth. Firstly, we need to explore what fieldwork can be considered long-term. Secondly, we need to investigate whether this research has a specificity that distinguishes it from others.

The term' stationary fieldwork' indicates fieldwork is a long-term undertaking. However, in reality, fieldwork is only considered long-term in the anthropologist's research career. From the perspective of the communities and societies being studied, it is just a brief episode. The customary length of fieldwork in anthropology, which is usually deemed sufficient, is one year (Okely 2020:19). Nevertheless, longer or shorter stays or fieldwork conducted according to other methods require some kind of explanation. This applies not only to multi-site, short-term, or 'yo-yo fieldwork' but also to fieldwork significantly longer than one year.

Longitudinal fieldwork takes place over a long period of time, which can span several decades. During this time, the research paradigms and methods used by the scientific community that influenced the researcher changed faster than the characteristics of the field. Long-term field studies can be used to examine socio-natural changes in the broader context of the field, such as states or the natural environment (Kemper – Peterson Royce 2002:xxi). In contrast, shorter-term field studies, such as those that last for one year, are inevitably retrospective and interpret changes that have already happened up to the point of wrapping up the field experiences. The understanding, presentation, and assessment of earlier changes are usually done through a different method, not the anthropological fieldwork method.

Anthropological works usually begin with a chapter that provides the community's historical background under survey. In these chapters, researchers present knowledge that was not gathered through anthropological methods or, more specifically, not within the intersubjective lifeworld of anthropological fieldwork. However, it is rare for researchers to explore the external or internal forces that shape the subject matter using continuous fieldwork.

One of the most distinguished long-term fieldwork projects was carried out in Mexico by George M. Foster (Foster 1948, 1967, 2002). Foster's research was conducted in a mestizo village community that was defined by a slowly eroding system of rules. The community placed great importance on a limited number of values. As a result, the Image of Limited Goods became a dominant element in community thinking. Foster's work provides a valuable illustration of how anthropologists can gain a deep understanding of a community by engaging in continuous fieldwork. “The model of cognitive orientation described in this chapter, and touched upon briefly in the first chapter, accounts for a very wide spectrum of behavior in Tzintzuntzan, and relates basic values and attitudes to such seemingly diverse institutions as politics and law, religion, economic activities, medical beliefs, and even folklore. This model I call the Image of Limited Good. By Image of Limited Good I mean that behavior in these and other broad areas is patterned in such fashion as to suggest that Tzintzuntzenos see their social, economic, and natural universes — their total environment — as one in which almost all desired things in life such as land, other forms of wealth, health, friendship, love, manliness, honor, respect, power, influence, security, and safety exist in absolute quantities insufficient to fill even minimal needs of villagers.” (Foster 1967:123).

George M. Foster, a renowned anthropologist, embarked on his fieldwork in 1942 in a mestizo village that became his second home. Over the next five decades, Foster returned to the same village (Tzintzuntzan) several times for extended periods, observing and documenting the significant transformations that took place during the mid-20th century. Although Foster's specialty was social institutions and systems, his most valuable findings stemmed from the personal stories and destinies of the villagers. Foster's work delved into various themes, such as the complex emotions of envy showcased in his 1972 publication (Foster 1972), the intricacies of friendship and godparenthood explored in his 1969 work (Foster 1969), and even the impact of illness on individuals. Foster's approach to research was based on observing and interpreting individual choices and behaviors, which allowed him to reveal personal attitudes and provide insights into the complexities of human behavior.

Elizabeth Colson was a renowned anthropologist who conducted extensive research in the Tonga-speaking communities of the Gwembe River Valley in Zambia for almost six decades. This impressive duration makes it one of the most extended fieldwork studies in the history of anthropology. Her work was particularly significant as she studied a society that was facing significant risks. The study took place in an area where the local way of life was dramatically altered by the construction of a dam and the subsequent displacement of the Tongan-speaking population. Elizabeth Colson began her research in 1946 and continued until her death, which occurred in Zambia at the age of 99. She was primarily interested in systemic phenomena, similar to her contemporary Foster, and her research focused on describing the social systems of the communities she studied. Elizabeth Colson's first two monographs, which followed the tradition of British social anthropology and African studies, provided valuable insights into the social dynamics of these unique communities (Colson 1958, 1960). She approached her fieldwork with a focus on social institutions and systems, as evidenced in her discussion of her initial research project among the Makah of the Northwest Coast of the United States.

“I realized very quickly that anything that the Makah talked about was turned into something that was personal, but also I realized that I was more interested in what was happening than I was in trying to do life histories, and I also decided I really didn't know enough. I wasn't well enough trained in psychology, so this wasn't the appropriate field for me. I was happier with institutions than of people.” (Colson 2002:58).

However, during his long-term fieldwork in the second Africa, he paid more and more attention to individual solutions and decisions. Indeed, the observation of decision-making mechanisms became a central element of his fieldwork (Colson 1973).

“Colson: By listening, recording, and then sitting down with the chief and counselors afterwards, and trying to work out why they'd come to their decision, I learned an enormous amount.

Riess: They would let you examine their thoughts?

Colson: I asked them questions. They gave me answers. Whether they were disguising things or not, I don't know. Very often, I suspected they were. Some of them really enjoyed explaining it. They rather enjoyed teaching. They were in a position of superiority, and they knew it.” (Colson 2002:87).

Julie Cruikshank devoted long years to conducting fieldwork in the Yukon River Valley in Whitehorse, where she focused her research on individual life journeys. With a keen eye for detail, she observed and collected data on narrative structures and individual life strategies, which proved fruitful both in the short and long term. By examining individual life trajectories and decision-making situations, Cruikshank was able to uncover the genesis of individual decisions in response to sudden shocks. However, her research went beyond individual experiences to include entire communities, as she used oral recollections and narrative structures to gain insight into their lives (Cruikshank 1990, 1991, 1998).

Cruikshank's approach, which centered on individual life courses, was not only able to show changes over a single lifetime but also over longer time spans. In her book, she masterfully juxtaposed the social life of a gradually disappearing glacier with narrative representations of it, demonstrating how tracking narratives, the succession of individual life courses and decisions, can be used to show change over time (Cruikshank 2005). Overall, Cruikshank's work highlights the importance of individual narratives in understanding individual experiences and the social and cultural contexts in which they occur.

Finally, I mention David McKnight, a researcher who has been studying the Lardil community on Mornington Island in northern Australia for almost four decades. During this time, he carried out 20 fieldwork trips to their home. The community faced a social catastrophe in the second half of the 20th century, which not only challenged the locals and local culture but also completely dismantled it. In his earlier works, McKnight focused on exploring local social and kin classificatory systems in a systematic manner (McKnight 1999), but he also included individual stories to make the research material more vivid. However, in his later works, McKnight increasingly focused on the lack of community resilience. In this research, individual voices and decisions played a vital role.

David McKnight was the first non-Aboriginal person to live a long life in the Mornington Island community and take an interest in every detail of their lives. Due to his dedication and close ties with friends, family, and the community, he was given the totem name Boora-rung-ee, which means ‘the man who asks why’. He was highly respected within the community, and his hunting skills enriched his work. But over time, his ties with his older friends weakened as they started to pass away.

The shock of social change was exacerbated by alcohol abuse in the community, which made fieldwork difficult and sometimes depressing in the later years of research. In his three-volume synthesis, McKnight describes the disintegration of the local farming system by juxtaposing a multitude of individual examples, making it clear how the transformation of the community affected individual lives. The first volume of this work was published in 2002 (McKnight 2002).

The Australian state has implemented a new form of protectorate administration which has resulted in the local people losing control over their own lives. The traditional practice of hunting and gathering has been replaced with a system of state benefits, leading to drinking and gambling becoming the primary social activities for both men and women. In addition to disrupting local economic cycle, the stewardship of the neoliberal state has also disrupted the kinship ties that had previously held society together (McKnight 2004). This disruption has extended to local systems of religion and power, eroding them over time (McKnight 2005). As a result, Mornington Island's twentieth-century history is one of subjugation, with ruined human destinies and a multitude of lost knowledge, skills, and practices. David McKnight, one of the last connoisseurs of this knowledge (including the Lardil ritual taboo language) and these practices (hunting practices), has borne witness to the destruction.

These four longitudinal field studies and anthropological research provide a deeper understanding of social transformations and disasters caused by factors like displacement due to dam building, alcoholism, disintegrating social systems, and environmental degradation. The researchers' life's work shows that studying individual choices over longer time scales is becoming increasingly important. The extended fieldwork duration has given these researchers an opportunity to comprehend phenomena and changes not only ‘backwards’ from the time of research but also ‘forwards’ from an earlier research time frame.

Research on social disasters that investigate the resilience (or lack of it) of communities in the twentieth-century histories of Tzintzuntzan, Whitehorse, the Gwembe Valley, or Mornington Island would provide a short-term, retrospective assessment of the diverse temporal unfolding of individual lives, choices, and narratives. However, imagining research involving a truly long-term stay in the field is not difficult. Éva Schmidt's fieldwork among the Khantys in Eastern Siberia offers a vivid picture of a world in disintegration, and this world comprises a multiplicity of individual voices (Horváth 2018). In the next chapter, I argue that in order to obtain a more comprehensive picture of individual and collective strategies and stories of resistance to rapid change, it is essential to understand individual decision-making mechanisms.

Decision-making, individual, and community strategies

The problem of decision-making has been rarely discussed in anthropology and ethnography, except when it is related to research on other topics such as mate choice or farming strategies. Unlike economics, the focus of the study of decision-making has not been on analyzing the effectiveness of a decision (Geertz 1979). In addition, the selection of appropriate economic strategies and decision-making processes is not solely based on Western rationality. Therefore, it is not important to determine whether the decisions taken by community members are right or wrong, and it is not necessary to figure out how to get individuals to make optimal decisions. Instead, researchers are more interested in understanding the circumstances that influence decision-making and the stimuli, both rational and irrational, that act in a given decision situation. In this context, the social and cultural factors that shape rationality may be questioned during the study (Boholm et al. 2013:98).

When conducting research on the ethics of decision-making and economic strategies (Sjölander-Lindqvist – Cinque 2013) or on longer-term decisions (Krzyworzeka 2013), the evaluation of economic success may become a secondary research target. However, the anthropological approaches that focus on the outcome of the decision have been significantly influenced by rational choice theory (cf. Becker 1976:7). Unfortunately, recent research highlights the weaknesses in this theory. One of the primary problems is that individual actors do not necessarily seek to maximize their utility; rather, they are characterized by a desire to achieve only a single desired goal, which can be influenced by various factors such as personal beliefs, values, and preferences (Heiss 2018:240).

Moreover, anthropological criticism of rational choice theory aims to incorporate aspects of decision-making discourse that are based on field experiences and are much more complex and difficult to fit into less variable rational choice models. This criticism suggests that decision-making is a multifaceted process that can be influenced by a wide range of internal and external factors. Therefore, to conduct research on the ethics of decision-making, it is essential to consider various perspectives and evaluate the outcome of the decision from multiple angles. This may lead to a false antagonism between rational and culturally embedded decision-making (see Chibnik 2011:165). Above all, such a contrast assumes that somehow, more culturally determined and less rational decisions are made by representatives of ‘traditional’ communities.

The conflict between social norms and individual freedom of choice is a complex issue that has been debated in anthropological research for many years and that remains unresolved (Granovetter 1985:421–422). One of the first debates to put traditional rational decision-making and economic theories on an anthropological footing was the formalist-substantivist debate that occurred in the 1960s. This debate was led by Károly Polányi and a group of economic historians.

The critique called for a ‘substantivist’ approach that focused on empirical reality rather than abstracting and formalizing general patterns of human behavior. Instead, it proposed that material production and non-market institutions should be studied because they are the empirical reality of economic life. This approach questioned the assumption that cultural norms and values were less rational than individual choice. It suggested that other kinds of rationality may exist and that representatives of ‘traditional’ communities do not necessarily make culturally-determined and less rational decisions (Hann – Hart 2011:55–70; Sárkány 2014:325–328; Gao 2021:4–5).

Understanding local decision-making mechanisms is crucial when responding to community disasters. However, the debate surrounding whether these mechanisms are individual or systemic, culturally embedded or rationally based, has not proven productive. Instead, researchers can provide multiple examples of individual responses to shocks to gain better insight into community resilience.

In the face of a crisis, anthropologists studying community resilience observe various individual decisions and responses. These examples and personal life-stories may help to provide a meaningful context for understanding the community's ability to emerge from the situation without significant damage. However, recognizing a decision can be challenging. There are conceptual pitfalls that researchers must avoid when studying decision-making and rational choices.

One such challenge is the objectification of decision-making. This approach treats decision-making as a path to a decision and decision-making as a social construct. Unfortunately, the ontology of decisions is uncertain. It is not always clear if a decision has been made or what it consists of. Is a postponement a decision? May the avoidance of making decisions be assessed a decision? Also, long-term decisions can be difficult to study since it is challenging to determine when and how the decision was made and its outcome (Heiss 2018).

Anthropological research on the decision-making process can sometimes fall into the trap of dehumanization. This occurs when the researcher's approach to studying decision-making strips away the personal elements that make each decision unique, leaving only rational, easily interpretable factors. This can lead to models that assume people with similar information, desires, goals, and social norms will make similar decisions, which is rarely the case. Decisions are often unpredictable, even surprising the decision-maker, and can have unexpected impacts on their life.

Additionally, the definition of decision situations is often questionable. While social structures and norms can influence decision-making, they don't necessarily determine it. Individuals usually have the freedom to navigate between different norms and choose the one that seems most favorable in a given situation (Ensminger 1996:127–128). While this continuous navigation may appear to be a series of decisions in retrospect, it is actually a continuously renewing pattern of behavior.

In his comprehensive study on the anthropological use of the concept of resilience, Roberto Barrios has analyzed the different ways in which the term is used. His research reveals that the presentation of decisions made and the ability to resist or mitigate harms is usually discussed retrospectively as a response to a shock/disaster in resilience research. This means that the concept of resilience is mostly understood in the context of responses to crisis situations, where decisions have already been taken. Barrios' study of resilience highlights the importance of understanding how individuals and communities respond to adversity. By examining various uses of the term, he has shown that resilience is not just about bouncing back from a crisis or shock but also about the capacity to anticipate, prepare for, and adapt to challenges. Moreover, Barrios notes that the concept of resilience is often used in reference to social and ecological systems, as well as individuals and communities. This highlights the interconnectedness of resilience across different levels and the need to consider the diverse contexts in which resilience is relevant (Barrios 2016).

Determining the resilience of a community is a complex task that usually requires a retrospective examination of the decisions made by the community over a given period of time. The objectification of decisions and their outcomes is a crucial step in this process, as it allows researchers to evaluate the effectiveness of the community's response to a particular challenge or crisis.

However, longitudinal research that spans a longer period of time can make this process even more challenging. In such cases, treating decisions in terms of outcomes becomes much more difficult, and researchers must also pay close attention to the observation of processes and life courses in which the ‘incompleteness’ of decisions is also considered a phenomenon.

Furthermore, the linking of resilience to a state or structure of a community can put the intensionality of each agent in brackets. While this can be a useful approach for accounting for an ecological process, it can obscure the diversity of human decision-making and response when studying human communities. This is because such an approach fails to consider the individual agency of each member of the community, as well as the unique factors that influence their decision-making and response to a particular crisis.

Therefore, to better understand a community's resilience, it is important to consider not only the structure of a community but also the individual agency of its members and the various social, economic, and political factors that influence their decision-making and response. By doing so, researchers can gain a more nuanced understanding of a community's resilience and how it can be strengthened to better respond to future challenges and crises.

Decisions, lifelines, and the collapse of planned agriculture in Central-Yakutia

In this chapter, my aim is to present a concise ethnography that showcases the flexibility of local decision-making mechanisms and the drivers of individual life choices in response to unexpected changes. Rural Sakha communities in Yakutia have been subjected to several significant external influences over the past century that have fundamentally reshaped local social realities. These external influences, which have had no connection with the local socio-natural milieu, have appeared without precedent in my fieldwork sites, including a village called Tanda in Ust’-Aldan region in Central Yakutia.

Tanda is a small settlement of nearly 700 people that – similarly to all the villages in Yakutia – has struggled with the collapse of the planned economy in the 1990-ies, severely impacting local farming. Despite this adversity, the village community showed a high level of resilience in mitigating the harms of the planned economy at the end of Soviet times. In the following pages, I intend to demonstrate how the local community has managed to maintain its economic integrity through a complex process that involved various actors.

Before discussing this process and the actors involved, it is important to briefly describe the farming and the community that has been affected by these economic and environmental shocks. The pastoralist Sakha practice stable livestock farming centered on the right to use the reapers. The more hayfields one could collect hay from, the more cattle one could breed. This right was created by a tax paid to the state in the late 18th, 19th, and early 20th century, making the meadows economically significant with important symbolic and identity-building significance (Mészáros 2008).²

For over six generations, until 1920, this economic system based on land-tenure taxation has been operating in Tanda, facilitating farming in three major territorial economic units, locally known as agha uuha or clans. Each clan was headed by one family, namely the Gotovtsevs, the Zablotskyys, and the Kalininkyys. During this time, the area had only slightly more cattle than people, with approximately 700 head of cattle grazing around the present-day settlement. However, this system underwent a significant transformation with the advent of collectivization, which resulted in the use of hayfields and pastures being placed under collective farms, leading to a change in the management of the collective farms and the system of mowing and grazing.

The Second World War, yet again, brought another shock to the region, as almost a third of the male population disappeared from the local workforce. This led to a reorganization of the farms and a change in the settlement structure, resulting in the creation of the village from a cluster of meadow-based settlements. After this change, the newly formed state farm provided a firm framework for the economic activities in Tanda for nearly five decades (Between the 1950-ies and the 1990-ies). The collapse of the planned economy in the 1990-ies brought about the next crisis, leading to the loss of salary jobs, and the decline of public services and decollectivization.

Finally, since 2010, a significant change has been the thawing and humidification of the permafrost soil, leading to the shrinking or even to the disappearance of pastures and hayfields. This change has had a noticeable impact on the area, with the loss of these essential resources affecting the local economy and the way of life of the people living there (Mészáros 2016). Despite these challenges, the people of Tanda – just like other villages- communities throughout Yakutia – have persisted, adapting to the changes and finding new ways to sustain their livelihoods (Mészáros 2014, 2016; Crate et al. 2017; Crate 2021).

During my last visit to Tanda in 2015, I observed that the farming system in the area was surprisingly similar to the system terminated by the collectivization 100 years ago. The farming was carried out in three large units, with one being led by the Zablotskyys and the other two by the Gotovtsevs. Each unit had its own distinct set of responsibilities; all of them took care of the products, managed the livestock, and took aim at the distribution of hayfields. This new system, established after the collapse of the state farm, had been in place for nearly a generation now, and the community had developed a deep understanding of how to manage its resources effectively in a semi-peripheral capitalist environment provided by the Russian state.

Despite all these subsequent economic transformations, the cattle-keeping capacity of the area had remained almost identical to what it was a century earlier. At the time of my visit, the settlement of nearly 700 inhabitants owned 800 head of cattle. Three large farms controlled the distribution of most hayfields, which were used for collecting fodder (Mészáros 2012a).

I was interested in exploring the stratification of local power relations in the settlement, as presented in my 2013 publication (Mészáros 2013). The community had a clear hierarchy, with the three large farms and the state institutions (eg. the local school and village authority) holding most of the power. Overall, it was clear that the community had developed a resilient system that allowed them to adapt to changing circumstances while maintaining their way of life.

My main concern in giving a description of the subsequent changes of the last century is if a system-based analysis (a research method focusing on the factors of community resilience) may provide insight into the views and experiences of local peoples. Does this method truly allows us to understand the perspectives of those we are studying, or does it merely reflects more our own biases and preconceptions? My field observations are f.i. limited to the period between 2002 and 2015. During this time, I was able to witness several good examples of cattle and horse farming, particularly in view of the collapse of the state farm.

To gain a better understanding of how people have responded to external influences in Tanda, it can be most helpful to examine the individual choices and life strategies of those who actively shaped and participated in the community at the time of my fieldwork. The three central figures in Tanda were Mikhail Nikolevich Gotovtsev, Stepan Petrovich Gotovtsev, and Nikolai Savvich Khompodoev (who married into the Zablotskyy family). They each had unique life stories shaped by factors and institutions outside of the community's internal functioning. I argue, that these men's choices and life strategies have played a significant role in the formation of the postsocialist realities in Tanda.

The disintegration of collective forms of production and the end of the state agricultural support system was the most significant shock experienced by the people of Tanda after 1990. However, despite the fact that the legal and market environment in Yakutia's settlements was mostly the same, each settlement coped with this shock differently. In Tanda, three new agricultural enterprises emerged from the ruins of the former local state farm (Geroi Egorov sovkhoz), overshadowing the role of private entrepreneurs. The question is, what allowed collective economic forms to remain viable in Tanda?

In 1992, exit from the state farm units (brigades) became allowed. However, leaving the sovkhoz only meant dividing up the livestock of the sovkhoz without the possibility of adding mowing areas for the Tanda residents. As a result, the distribution/privatization of the 1,340 cattle and 525 horses in Tanda in 1992 was the subject of much debate. Although not all the livestock belonged to the state farms, as almost every family had one or two cattle, and less frequently horses, of their own breeding, the distribution of nearly 1,000 head of cattle was at stake.

At the time of the break-up of the plant, the last head of the sovkhoz, Stepan Petrovich Gotovtsev, wanted to keep as much of the cattle as possible under the joint management of the three remaining brigades of the sovkhoz (Sytygan, Sardanga/Jubilejnaj and Küörüme). He hoped to maximize state subsidies for the remaining livestock. The condition for obtaining state subsidies was that the beneficiaries (the members of the brigades) should not reduce the size of the joint cattle herd (and especially the number of milking cows), even though production was clearly loss-making.

Individual decisions played a significant role in the emergence of the three new farm units following decollectivization. The first strategy was the creation of the Geroj Egorov cooperative farm by Stepan Gotovtsev. The former Geroj Egorov state farm (sovhoz) closed down in 1999. However, Stepan Gotovtsev's organizational skills, production, and community-oriented attitude enabled him to continue operating two brigades (Küörüme and Sardanga) despite having much fewer cattle. Stepan's main focus was on community production, and he believed that individual profit-making should not take precedence over it. In an interview, he told me that he does not believe in profit-oriented production; local production should serve local demands – he mentioned. The Geroj Egorov cooperative's primary goal was to strengthen the already existing cooperative relations and collect appropriate state subsidies for its members by the number of milking cows and through the state purchase of raw milk and cream. Although the cooperative's operational logic did not focus on market efficiency, Stepan's confidence in the families around him and the state's support for collective forms of production allowed the Geroj Egorov cooperative to become the largest and fairly efficient farming community in Tanda.

The second biggest economic unit, the Kyhyl Tanda cooperative farm, followed a different path, and its formation was also based on individual decisions. The Kyhyl Tanda cooperative was created on the ruins of a brigade of the former sovkhoz near the Sytygan summer camp. Anastasija Zablockaja, one of the central figures in the Sovhoz brigade, provided the moral support and legitimacy for the construction of the new cooperative unit, as the Sytygan brigade continued to work on the territory which was managed before the collectivization by the clan headed by the Zablockijs. However, the real manager of the Kyhyl Tanda cooperative unit was Nikolai Savvich Khompodoev, Anastasija's son-in-law and one of the last agronomists to join the former state farm. As an agronomist with little connection to the area, his goal was to make the new farm as efficient and profitable as possible rather than keeping it strictly community-oriented. He believed in the power of good work organization, technological development, and cost-effective management. Nikolai Savvich Khompodoev set out to build a well-established, profit-oriented company. Although this ambition led to tensions and gossip in the village (Mészáros 2012b), it positively impacted the productivity of the farm. Due to tight management (and the fact that the managers treated the cooperative's assets as the enterprise's property), Kyhyl Tanda showed better productivity figures than the two local cooperatives. Here, milk yield per cow exceeded 2,000 L each year. Kyhyl Tanda, a smaller cooperative (half the size) than Geroj Egorov, harvested 600 tonnes of hay in the summer of 2009, just 50 tonnes less than Geroj Egorov. Kyhyl Tanda also improved its summer accommodation: the stables were renovated, and new pens were built.

The third large farm in Tanda, known as the ‘Ud'uor’ enterprise, has a different organizational pattern than the two previously mentioned economic units. The farm's founder, Mikhail Nikolaevich Gotovtsev, played a significant role in establishing the farm. However, his personal charisma and life course had a more significant influence, which ultimately helped in the continuation of farming in Tanda after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Mikhail Nikolaevich Gotovtsev holds a special place in Tanda due to his numerous state and municipal awards, including being a multiple recipient of the Hero of Socialist Labour, and the first Sakha recipient of this new highest state decoration of the Russian Federation (the Hero of Labour of the Russian Federation), replacing the the Order of Lenin. His personal commitment and success in cattle breeding and milk collection have earned him a reputation that extends beyond the village and throughout Yakutia.

In 1968, he was the first to introduce the European breed of cattle known as Simmentaler in Tanda. Despite studying veterinary medicine in Leningrad from 1972 to 1975, he returned to Tanda to become a cowherd again. The milk yield of the cows bred by Mikhail Nikolaevich was several times higher than the average of 2,000 L of milk per year. After the Soviet Union's collapse, he successfully experimented with adapting German Holstein-Friesian cattle, further increasing milk production.

His national and republican honors have brought him not only fame but also opportunities. Therefore, when the local sovkhoz disintegrated, Mikhail Nikolaevich Gotovtsev, who was officially retired by then, was able to set up his farm and use the fertile hayfields that were under the management of the sovkhoz brigade where he had worked. Although not all retired cattle breeders had the opportunity to do this, Mikhail Nikolaevich Gotovtsev's hard-earned and skilled reputation, along with the contacts he had made, enabled him to keep his cattle farm intact and continue his breeding work.

Mikhail Nikolaevich's experience and success encouraged him to develop a completely different way of farming in the village, one that focused not on getting state subsidies as efficiently as possible but on farming to the highest possible quality. His approach to farming ultimately helped to establish a sustainable farming model that continues to benefit Tanda's agricultural industry.

The successful maintenance of the large agricultural farms and cattle breeding in Tanda largely depended on the decisions the three individuals mentioned above made. To gain a deeper understanding of their decision-making process during the disintegration of the state farm in the 1990s, it is necessary to conduct a study of their life stories focusing on the long term. This could help shed light on the factors that influenced their choices and actions and how these factors contributed to the persistence of the cattle and meadow economy in Tanda despite the collapse of the state subsidizing system. It seems that social indicators are less significant in explaining the success of farming and cattle breeding in Tanda. By analyzing the life paths of these individuals, we may be able to gain valuable insights into the factors that contributed to their success and how these factors played a role in other villages.

Chains, lines, and paths of life

The above chapter presented a brief ethnographic case study of Tanda's agricultural changes, illustrating how individual life paths, personal beliefs, and relationships provide a better understanding of local responses to crisis situations. These three stories, while not generalizable to other case studies, highlight the crucial role played by locals in the reorganization of agriculture in Yakutia. The collapse of the sovkhoz in Tanda had a significant impact on local farming. However, agricultural production has been consolidated in almost all settlements in Yakutia, albeit at a more moderate level (Darbasov et al. 2000). This consolidation could not have been achieved without the central role played by locals in the process of reorganizing agriculture.

Anthropological methods are best suited to answer the main question of what lies at the heart of this consolidation. By studying the intersection and disconnection of individual life paths, anthropologists can gain an indigenous perspective on the issue. The presentation and transmission of individual choices and intersubjective lifeworlds offer valuable insights into areas that systematic research on resilience often overlooks.

The anthropological research on community resilience is moving away from systemic research and giving more emphasis to individual choices, voices, and life fates. This shift is gradually anthropologising and infusing the concept of resilience with hidden meanings that were previously captured in other terms. The growing popularity of the concept of resilience, however, reveals the cracks in its architecture and highlights the need for further research. The presentation and communication of individual choices and personal experiences shed light on those areas where systematic research on resilience seems to fall short and where the most exciting part of anthropological research begins. Instead of focusing on larger social units, observing the interconnection and disconnection of individual life trajectories enables anthropologists to reach the core of what they want to understand (Ingold 2016). This is often referred to as the indigenous perspective. Therefore, anthropological research on community resilience seems to be moving away from systemic research and giving more space to individual choices, voices, life experiences, and the agencies that come with them (Rhodes – Powers 2022). The concept of resilience is thus becoming more anthropologized and infused with local voices and practices.

Csaba Mészáros is a senior research fellow at the Institute of Ethnology of the HUN-REN Research Centre for the Humanities, and the head of the Department of Non-European Studies. He has been involved in several domestic and international research projects in Siberia and the Carpathian Basin. His interests cover various topics, from ecological anthropology to kinship studies. This article results from his current research interest in ethnoecology, environmental perception, and landscape management based on his subsequent field studies in Yakutia (Northeastern Siberia) and in the Slovenian-Austrian-Hungarian tri-border area.