Through relations with the Greek associations, I was further introduced to a number of religious, philosophical, gastronomic, and card-playing associations in Reggio Calabria. Thus I had the opportunity to participate in administrative meetings, various fiestas, and celebrations that furnished me with data regarding the colorful civic life in Reggio Calabria. In time I managed to gain access to almost all the Grecanico associations based in Reggio Calabria and work closely with their representatives. Generally, presidents and board members were open in talking to me, although in our meetings they usually recited rhetoric regarding language, victimhood, and pessimism about the future of the minority. People also demanded to know with whom I was talking and I was often questioned as to the content of my conversations with other civic representatives. Actors were curious whether they were, or were not, mentioned by other Greeks or Grecanici and, if so, in what terms. Did people speak well of them or not? Parlare bene (speak well) or male (ill, bad) about the other was a confrontational question that highlighted not only the level of connection between people but also an experiential anxiety about reputation where the level of connection was the foundation of and directly informed such anxiety.
At times the pressure to reveal the topic of conversations reached uncomfortable levels (see also Herzfeld 2009a). Actors were never offensive or aggressive but there was a tone of caution regarding my dealings with people of whom others disapproved. Such comments were scaled from a protective “be careful when you speak to this and that person” to a more cautious “you should not speak with this and that person as they are illiterate, corrupt and mafiosi,” That last comment was accompanied with a stern face, upper body leaning toward me, low voice and a direct look as if to communicate something that the anthropologist was not, but should be, informed about.
As Time Goes By: Contextualizing the Grecanico Associations
The development of civic and political associations after the Risorgimento in a united Italy was not a casual event but followed the general revival that the Enlightenment brought to political life among the European elites of the nineteenth century. The Italian associations acted as centers of information and arenas for the exchange of ideas among the elites, inside and outside Italy, without however avoiding localismo (socioeconomic interest related to a locality) and campanilismo (feeling of superiority attached to one’s place of origin), political clientelism and exclusion—especially in cases where membership was determined by birth and status (Caglioti 1996).
During the 1870s and 1880s, growing legal concerns1 and alterations to the voting legislation made the associations more appealing to a wider variety of people. Membership was now offered on terms of political affinity, common economic interests, kinship, and locality (Kertzer 1983). The associations’ interests were broad enough to pursue collaborations with local authorities in return for crucial votes and other favors. Political transactions often coincided with clientelism and kinship (Campbell 1964; Allum 1973:93–107), provoking, in some cases, an associationistic shift from the rural periphery to urban centers (Caglioti 1996:4).
The creation of the first Grecanico association during the 1960s came as a result of the recognition of the problem of minorities on a European level and the “explicit ethnicization2 of policy preceded the significant development of the politics of identity” (Crowley 2001:108). During the 1980s and 1990s Italy experienced a boom in associations which “injected its own dynamics into modern Italian society” (Ginsborg 2001:xi).3 Antonella is a middle-aged woman of Grecanico origin who lives in Reggio Calabria on a part-time basis. She is university educated and used to be an active member of a political party in her village of origin. She is a fluent speaker of the Grecanico language and speaks Modern Greek quite competently. Antonella attributes the love she holds for the Grecanico language to her love for her late grandmother.
As a child I loved my grandmother deeply. She was speaking Greco. My mother could understand her, but she did not speak the language. Because both my mother and father were working in administrative positions they did not speak Greco because the language was considered inferior to the official Italian. But I remember my grandmother speaking to me in Greco and her voice was the best music to my ears. I still have her voice in my mind calling us; “Elate pedía”GO (“come children”). At that age I loved my language deeply. When we first formed Jonica no one was really interested in the language and its salvation. They were saying that the language is outdated and has no use in finding a job. But then, after changes in legislation that made it easier to find funding (she rubs her thumb against her index finger, a gesture which indicates money) suddenly everyone started loving both the Grecanico language and the culture. Especially after the interest of the EU in the linguistic minorities, numerous books were written and you could see action towards language promotion and preservation. In those days I hoped that something could happen, something could change and the new generation would love to speak the language. How young and innocent we were, running from village to village talking to the people and trying to make them see things from a different perspective. But now I do not believe that something can change. They say that the only way to move forward is to introduce Modern Greek into our language. I really do love (Modern) Greek but I would like my language (Grecanico) to be spoken too (she sighs).
Apart from directly criticizing the general policy of Grecanico associations past and present as set up only to exploit funding opportunities, Antonella further reflects on the issue of “salvaging” the Grecanico language. In her narrative she purposely refers to her language as il Greco (the Greek)—the term Grico, often spelled Griko, is also sometimes used when Grecanici refer to their language. According to Filippo Violi (2004) the terms “Grecanico” and “Grico” are widely accepted with reference to the language and culture of the Greek autochthonous populations of Calabria and Puglia (Lecce) respectively. The two terms—Grecanico and Grico—are not distinguished by Italian law as two different languages; they are both referred to as one Greek language (Greco) spoken by the linguistic minorities of Calabria and Puglia.
The term “Grecanico”—indicative of language, culture, and territory (Violi 2004)—that is adopted by researchers as well as administrative and cultural representatives, appears to pose a problem in terms of origin. Grecanici intellectuals like Violi and Mosino, despite drawing on Gerhard Rohlfs (1966, 1972) and Anastasios Karanastasis (1984), fail to give a satisfactory answer as to the origin of the term (Violi 2004). Nevertheless, the term “Grecanico”—first introduced in Rohlfs’ Lexicon Graecanicum Italiae inferioris in 1964—is widely adopted. Antonella as well as a small number of Grecanici oppose the term, believing it is derogatory. Greco di Calabria (Greek of Calabria), Grecofono (Grecophone), Ellenofono (Hellenophone), Ellenofono di Calabria (Hellenophone of Calabria), Calabrogreco (Calabrian Greek) are some of the alternatives proposed. However, these terms have failed to gain popular support. The aforementioned linguistic proposals are not devoid of political interest related to the direct sympathies of their supporters. Especially when the word ends in fonoGO (from foniGO, meaning “voice”), it calls to mind Bakhtinian notions of language where language is never unitary. Mikhail Bakhtin (1981:288) argues,
Actual social life and historical becoming, create within an abstractly unitary national language a multitude of concrete worlds, a multitude of bounded verbal-ideological and social belief systems; within these various systems (identical in the abstract) are elements of language filled with the various semantic and axiological content and each with its own different sound.
Literary language—both spoken and written—although it is unitary not only in its shared, abstract, linguistic markers but also in its forms for conceptualizing