Marcus Banks (In Memoriam)
In November, the world lost another relatively young anthropologist, Professor Marcus Banks. He died, aged 60, following an epileptic attack. He was a visual anthropologist based in Oxford University’s School of Anthropology and Museum Ethnography (SAME), where he was director from 2012 to 2016. From 2017 to 2019, he served as an Executive Committee member of the European Association of Social Anthropologists. The Guardian obituary by Richard Vokes can be found here.
Paolo Favero reflects on some of his own personal memories of getting to know Marcus.
I have never written an obituary. So I am not sure what or how I am supposed to write. Yet, one thing I am sure about: I do not intend to speak professionally nor academically. Others have done so already celebrating Marcus’ contributions. And indeed they have done so much better than I would be able to do, cherishing the career of one of the greatest anthropologists of our times.
I rather want to give a glimpse, a very personal one, into what brought me over the years to feel so connected to Marcus. To consider him not only a source of inspiration but also a true mentor and a friend. So let me travel back in time. I met Marcus during a cold, sunny winter day in Stockholm in February 2005. That was the day of my own PhD defence. My dad had come for the event too and I remember that my main stress that morning was to make sure that he (my dad) would find his way to the venue for the defence. Busy as I was in finding people caring for him, I somehow ended up late for my own defence. That was quite an embarrassment. When I came to the auditorium where the defence would take place, everyone was already there. And they were waiting for me.
Rushing in towards the podium I realised that I was only carrying a copy of my thesis. I had no pen or paper to take notes. Taking advantage of the arrival of some other late-comers I went back to my dad who was happily sitting among my friends and asked him for his own pen. This was a somewhat superstitious ritual as I always loved to sign important documents with his favourite pen. I also managed to pick up an A4 paper from a friend and then rushed finally up to the podium. And there was Marcus. Standing patiently, waiting for me in his elegant beige suit between the two chairs that had been set up for my academic rite of passage. Sweaty, I smiled at him and apologised for the delay. After having caught my breath I humbly addressed him by saying ‘Professor Banks, where would you like to sit?’ He looked a bit puzzled, but after a short, silent pause he looked at me and said: ‘This is your defence, Paolo, not mine, so you pick the seat.’
I believe that this episode sums up quite nicely Marcus’ unique blend of human warmth and tongue-in-cheek sense of irony. Along with these characteristics comes also his scholarly rigour. And in fact he did challenge me on many important aspects of my thesis during the defence. Yet, he did so always showing the greatest respect to my work and also human kindness (qualities that are more and more to be sought for in the contemporary neoliberal university climate). The defence went smoothly. I learned a lot and at night during the party I hosted after the defence, we shared drinks and smoked together (a habit the latter that we both would end up abandoning). That night I found a mentor and a friend.
Marcus’ attitude during my PhD defence taught me how academic rigour and compassion can go hand in hand. He showed, through his own way of being, how you do not need to be aggressive, nor overtly critical in order to support a younger scholars’ growth. Kindness is a much better partner for that. A whisper in the ear is often much more useful than a shout in the face. This is what I will always remember about him. How to keep a harmonious balance between academic rigour and human compassion.
Over the years Marcus never failed in supporting me and many other younger scholars, finding time for us in his busy schedule. Indeed we two shared a lot of common interests: from ethnicity to visual anthropology, with India always at the centre. In hindsight, I see how his work always paved the way for my own research. I owe him much and I will greatly miss his support.
The last strong memory I have of Marcus is when he attended a ‘wicked’ workshop that Shireen Walton and I organised at the Stockholm’s 2018 edition of the EASA conference. We introduced the participants to how meditation, as a practice, can sustain the ethnographic endeavour. I remember Marcus enthusiastically embarking in the challenge of walking barefoot through the woods surrounding the university campus, enjoying the summer breeze, breathing consciously and observing the effect it had on his capacity to open up the senses to the world surrounding him. I like to remember him like this, a kind and open soul always curious to new ideas and always generous in sharing his views. I will keep breathing for him too.
Paolo Favero
University of Antwerp