It is difficult to discuss a phenomenon when one does not know precisely what it is. This problem is particularly vexing in the case of the Mafia. It has been argued that ‘the need for a definition [of the Mafia] is crucial; not just for any definition with some degree of contingent empirical plausibility, but for a definition with some analytical clout’ (1). The word ‘Mafia’ itself has travelled far to distant lands, such as the former Soviet Union. For instance, according to Arkadii Vaksberg, Russian journalist and author of The Russian Mafia, the Mafia is ‘the entire soviet power-system, all its ideological, political, economical and administrative manifestations’ (2). In an article published in a magazine for British executives dealing with Russia, the label Mafiosi is used to lump together bureaucrats, smugglers from the Caucasus, the CPSU nomenklatura accused of embezzling state funds, the late British businessman Robert Maxwell and many others (3).

This paper examines some variables which may explain differences in the position of women, particularly in Middle Eastern tribal societies. By position of women, I mean women's status and roles vis-à-vis men. I am primarily concerned with differences in the dominant or male models concerning women, and the behaviours associated with them, however at a number of points in the paper, for illumination, I refer to women's models of women—that is, muted or counterpart models which are alternative, and sometimes contradictory, to the men's models (E. Ardener 1972; 1975; S. Ardener 1975: xi–xii). But my main argument is in a different direction: I suggest that certain features of social organization and structure determine these dominant models concerning women. Among the more obvious explanations of this kind would be those in terms of economic factors, such as the types of social production (whether a given social group is predominantly pastoral nomad, settled agricultural, or urban commercial-industrial, etc.) or the sexual division of labour within the group. But in my view certain more subtle factors than these are also of explanatory importance. The problem arises from the study of two particular tribal societies, the Shahsevan of north-western Iran and the Durrani of north-central Afghanistan; the women's position in these two societies differs in three significant spheres, yet the economic factors suggested above cannot explain these differences, for the two societies are economically similar, and women are excluded to a similar degree from control of economic and political resources.

1. What are the norms of distributive justice to be found in contemporary families? Do they vary according to the socioeconomic status of the spouses, and according to the type of family cohesion? These are the two questions addressed in this article, in which an exploratory study of 107 families is used (Kellerhals et al. 1986) to advance some elements of response.

This paper raises the question to what extent of East Germans support the political system in which they live. Have people who lived for decades under authoritarian conditions been able to develop a democratic culture? Or are their mind-sets and attitudes still influenced by the effects of GDR socialization with its socialist values and ideals? The paper argues that the peculiarities of the political culture in East Germany are less attributable to effects of GDR socialization than to current differences in the economic situation between East and West Germany.

In this century military intervention in the political arena on the part of the Greek armed forces has been, either directly or indirectly, the rule and not the exception (i). The forms of and the motivations for this political activism have varied greatly, but in spite of the often decisive effects of their intervention in political affairs the Greek military and the reasons for their intervention have not been studied in any serious or systematic manner.

The liberalisation of religious practice after the fall of the Soviet regime and the support by the Russian state to the Russian Orthodox Church have contributed to the enormous growth of the church economy. Controversies within and without the Church interrogate commercial and gifting practices. The relationship between the expansion of church commerce and the operation of moral boundaries, underlined by critical stances, has been determined by culture and history, with the post-Soviet transformation having played a key role in shaping popular notions of selflessness and profit-seeking. Moreover, as people participate in the church economy they mobilise perceptions of the differential moral valence of gift and commerce in order to communicate concerning the power of the Church, its controversial image, Russia’s social stratification, and to deploy ethics of equity and honesty.

The discourse of civil society has continued to thrive, despite reservations expressed by thinkers from both East and West. Assuming it is here to stay for the time being, at least, which aspects of the concept still need most scrutiny ? What ate the outstanding problems and themes for further reflection ? How best can we make the concept serviceable ? This essay surveys some of the recent literature with an eye to these questions.

This paper criticizes the economic perspective that property rights determine economic outcomes, by examining sharecropping, because this form of property right can be associated with remarkably different economic outcomes. In particular, drawing on evidence from fifteenth-century Tuscany, it is argued that landlords' and tenants' class capacities explain sharecropping's variability. The results show that Tuscan sharecropping was efficient and contractual, because the difference in landlords' and tenants' class capacity was relatively small.

The power and prestige of the Persian religious élite, the ‘ulamā’, during the Qājār period (1795–1926), and their political importance, in contrast to the relative political feebleness of the ‘ulamā’ of Sunni Islam in modern times, has attracted the attention of students of Persian history and politics.

The advent of a new branch of social research under the name of civil-military relations studies within the course of the last two decades may be taken as an indication that the relationship between military and civil institutions has become one of the crucial problem areas in highly developed industrial societies. Whether this state of affairs might be characterized in terms of an increasing militarization of industrial society, like the Garrison State theory implies, or on the other hand, as a permeation of military institutions by specific values of civil institutions, does not now seem to be clear. Very likely, the problem before us does not lend itself to clear-cut statements like these. Notwithstanding the complexity of the relationships involving the two subsystems and the divergence of interpretations by different students of civil military relations, there appears to be agreement that both military and civil institutions have lost some of their relative autonomy. Something like a reciprocal interpenetration of both subsystems, without precedent in the history of industrial societies, has taken place. Likewise, the reasons for changes in the relations between the two sectors seem to be beyond controversy. The question of national defense has become a crucial problem of industrial societies which has been traced back to changes in the traditional world balance of power on the one hand, and revolutionary advances of weapons technology on the other. Concentrated as they are in the hands of two overwhelming antagonists, modern weapons, because of their range and destructive power, are capable of dealing a decisive blow to the war potential of the opponent within a matter of hours. Consequently, the outcome of any conflict must be anticipated within its earliest phase; to put it another way, the antagonists have to be prepared to face a showdown at any moment or risk their own destruction. It is for this reason that the full deployment of the military potential before a conflict is even in sight has become a postulate of modern military policy (2). Yet, permanent mobilization, as it is required by a rational military policy in the atomic age, tends to call in question the very social order which it to be secured against outside aggression.

Who do you think the Mennonites are ? What do you think their future will be ? These were the questions I most commonly encountered among older ‘Russian’ Mennonites in Canada. The ethnographer who enters the field expecting to ask questions is a little disconcerted to be quizzed by informants. It is worse, however, when one is expected to pronounce upon their history or to make prophetic statements concerning their future! Yet the questions were asked in all sincerity; suddenly I was placed in the role of the expert and expected to issue a final judgement on Mennonite identity. I soon learnt to be very cautious of providing answers, particularly to the first question. The question obviously involved a search for a Mennonite identity and it was clear that this had a long and troubled history. For a hundred years ‘Russian’ Mennonites have been searching for an identity acceptable both to themselves and to the wider world. This paper will attempt to explain how and why Mennonites have sought different identities at different periods in their history.

The ongoing wave of radical religious protest confirms the need for an alternative to the rationalist approach that has come to dominate social movement research. At this moment, it seems promising to take another look at Weber’s sociology of religion: it offers a theory which (1) proposes an unfamiliar account of the relation between personal identity and political activism, (2) builds on this to explain the functioning of a specific type of social movements organization, and (3) thereby identifies mechanisms causing a dynamic of protest that cannot be reduced to a “rational” adaptation to an opportunity structure. These concepts can also elucidate the working of movements that are not explicitly religious in character.

À Buchenwald, pendant la guerre, David Rousset et quelques autres détenus se trouvent un jour devant la chambre du Blockältester (doyen de bloc):

C'est une pièce misérable, étroite comme certains réduits de la zone à Paris. Un lit, une table, deux chaises, un poêle, quelques photos de femmes sur les cloisons, une carte du front russe. Ce coin sordide est un paradis. Nous sommes là, quelquesuns, à regarder, et quelle envie dans les yeux! C'est le signe de toutes les puissances, de tous les privilèges. Le rire me prend: qui jamais aurait pu imaginer que nous en serions à lorgner ce gîte de paria comme la réalisation de rêves impossibles, la satisfaction de véhéments désirs? (1).

Anthropology has become aware that its analysis of communities, no matter how small and isolated they might be, must reckon with the context of the nation-state. Many cultural phenomena that anthropologists confront on the local level thus are often seen as a reaction to and, to an extent, a consequence of the socioeconomic processes associated with the larger nation-state economy. In the Mediterranean region, patronage appears to be one of the most prominent features of any given community, because patronage resists changes engendered by the nation-state. It has been a constant target at which various anthropologists have expended their polemical ammunition. This essay examines the nature of the link between patronage and the nation-state.

Much of the substance of the contemporary debate on the nature and consequences of ‘mass culture’ in Britain is to be found in the work of four English literary critics: T. S. Eliot, F. R. Leavis, Richard Hoggart and Raymond Williams (1). Their work is in the Utopian tradition of social and aesthetic critical thought that has been termed “the English Dream: the ideal of the collective, unalienated folk society, where honest men work together and create together” (2); the ideal of the organic community, in short. Such a society is seen as composed of homogeneous, self-sufficient, stable and tradition-dominated communities, comprising a population which shares a common language and culture, and which is typified—but not exclusively bound—by a mentality attached to the tangible, local and known (3).

Law is a powerful commitment device. By entering into a binding contract, a contracting party can invoke the coercive law enforcement powers of states to compel another party to perform. Many, if not most, contracts are carried out without ever invoking these coercive powers; they operate in the shadow of the law. Less attention has been paid to the flip side of law’s shadow: the possibility of relaxing or suspending the full force of the law, or making law elastic. While this may seem anathema to the “rule of law”, it is not an infrequent occurrence, especially in times of crisis. The elasticity of law should be distinguished from the incompleteness of law, that is, the inherent limitation lawmakers face in trying to anticipate all future contingencies. In this paper I will offer two tales of the American Insurance Group (AIG) to illustrate the elasticity of contracts as well as of law.

In recent years, the main meeting ground of the various branches of learning which in some uncertain way make up the social sciences has been the study of the so-called Third World: the forming nations and tottering states of Asia, Africa and Latin America. In this enigmatical setting, anthropology, sociology, political science, history, economics, psychology, as well as that oldest of our disciplines, soothsaying, have found themselves in the unfamiliar position of dealing severally with essentially the same body of data.