Nomadic Missiology? Bringing Braidotti’s Thought into the Conversation about the Future of Cross-Cultural Mission

Introduction

This brief article is written as a follow-up to the two pieces by Bendor-Samuel (2017) and Franklin (2017) on current and future issues and trends in mission, found in this issue. Both write as informed thinkers and commentators who straddle the two domains of mission leadership and academic mission studies. I write as a theologian and social scientist, hoping to flesh out and extend their ideas a little, by reference to the ‘nomadic theory’ of Rosi Braidotti, who draws on French philosophers Deleuze and Guattari in the development of her ideas.

It is appropriate to give an introduction to central concepts in nomadic theory before applying them to the broad sweep of trends identified and explored by Bendor-Samuel and Franklin. Please note that for some, the word ‘nomadic’ might prove misleading. This is not an article about reaching nomads in places like Mongolia; Braidotti’s point is that our very thought processes and identities must become nomadic. It is worth saying at this point that I do not seek to create a new form of missiology or anything quite so grand. I simply seek to provide some theoretical and philosophical ballast for what are important reflections on the future of the mission enterprise. To change the metaphor, I want to place myself at the interface, the strip of Velcro which allows mission thinking and practice to come together with continental philosophy.

Wandering Around in Nomadic Theory

Nomadic theory as presented by Rosi Braidotti is her development of ideas introduced to continental philosophy by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. In her introduction to what is a complex philosophical edifice, Braidotti (2011b: 2) states that nomadic theory is opposed to and critiques various forms of (Cartesian) dualism which have had great influence on western thought. One element of her response to dualism is what she calls the ‘embodied subject’, a notion also explored by various other philosophers who question mainstream western thought. Putting the mind and body back together allows the reconnection of the emotions with the thought life and requires us to look at nomadic subjects as rooted in their cultures, gender, experience and web of relationships (Braidotti, 2011a: 66). Some would hear an echo of Bourdieu’s habitus, and Charles Taylor’s (1995: 25ff) discussion of ‘embodied agents’ addresses similar issues. It is noteworthy that in his commentary on Taylor, John Tambornino (2002: 41) is careful to claim that there is a fundamental ‘incongruence’ between our embodied selves and the ‘moral and political order in which we find ourselves’. In addition, he believes that for one reason or another, embodied subjects must respond to their context.

Returning to Braidotti, the embodied nature of the subject means that ‘lived experience’ (Braidotti, 2011a: 75) is extremely important, but also that sameness and difference interact with each other. When we acknowledge the rootedness of people as thinkers and agents, we cannot neglect their interactions with others and their negotiation of sameness and difference; Jenkins (2008: 102–103) reminds us of the importance of connecting both of these when discussing identity, and points out that the negotiation takes place at the boundary.

This relation between oneself and the others around us, as well to our broader context, means that nomadic theory is about becoming rather than being, about dynamism rather than stasis (Braidotti, 2011b: 29). The realisation that one is embodied as a whole, mind and body united, and placed in a network of relationships and subject to all manner of influences, means that one must think and act from within this nexus of factors. Hence, for Braidotti (2011b: 2), in nomadic theory, thought is positive, creative and relational.

Also, nomadic thought is characterised by a relationality and multifaceted dialogue not only between people, nomadic subjects, but also been academic disciplines. Braidotti uses the term ‘zigzagging’ several times to describe non-linear processes of thought which operate non-linearly and by bouncing between different, fragmented dialogue partners and academic disciplines. There is an inherent messiness resulting from the nature of embodied subjects, which questions existing schemas and frameworks as well as the dominance (Braidotti, 2011b: 2) of certain players within traditional power structures, of which more presently. Embodied subjects need to begin from where they are, in terms of their dialogue partners and resources for thought and creativity; once embodiment is recognised and celebrated, nomadic subjects will question the status quo and reach out for what they can find, near at hand and far away.

One result of such embodiment and empowerment is the questioning of Braidotti’s (2011b: 31, 327) ‘majority subject’, who is white, male, property-owning, heterosexual and speaks one of the dominant languages of the community. The centre and the margins both undergo dissonance and dislocation and go on their own nomadic journey of restructuring to move towards a more open, democratic, creative and arguably dangerous future.

Much of nomadic theory relates to becoming, usually hyphenated to show specific kinds of transformational experience. Thus, under the general notion of becoming-nomadic, Braidotti places becoming-woman, becoming-machine and becoming-insect; note that in her scheme there is no becoming-man, because this represents the privileged position at the centre. These interlinked, multiple becomings are processes that both those at the centre and the margins must undergo as the nature of thought and practice is renegotiated by embodied subjects (Braidotti, 2011b: 35). Becoming-woman means understanding the fundamental asymmetry between the genders, the power differentials, experiences of commodification, as well as celebrating that which is to be prized and treasured in the feminine. For those at the centre, becoming-woman may well be quite a different experience than for those at the margins.

Becoming-machine focuses on the interaction between human beings and mechanical and electronic machines. Not only can we think of machines as a metaphor for human activity, but also the development of technology and our place in it and reliance on it feed into the idea of becoming-machine. In brief, for Braidotti this is about aspects of our lives becoming machine-like, but also about our relation to machines narrowing the difference between men and women and encouraging a greater fluidity of roles. In addition, technology has dramatically changed the ways in which we communicate; we now enjoy cheaper, more convenient and richer forms of communication than ever before. The variety and efficiency of this communication also facilitate Braidotti’s zigzagging. Broader ideas of merging with our environment and the interchangeability of parts and functionality may on the one hand diminish our individual distinctiveness (becoming-machine could involve a certain amount of military uniformity and conformity), but on the other allow us to relate ever more closely to our particular contexts and relationships (Braidotti, 2011b: 62, 73).

Finally (as regards this article) comes becoming-insect, which is to some degree related to becoming-machine. Braidotti distinguishes between bios, which refers to life of humankind, and zoë, which is used for non-human or ‘infrahuman’ life (Braidotti, 2011b: 100). Becoming-insect recognises the vitality of non-human life forms and brings us into a much closer relationship with them; they (and other creatures) are our ever-present non-human neighbours with whom we share this precious biosphere (zoësphere?). It also helps us understand the remarkable interconnectivity and mutual dependence between various orders of living organisms on our planet, challenging our often-simplistic anthropocentrism. Stretching the concept further, from the study of insects we discover that they have their own communication codes, social organisations and even divisions of labour; that which we thought of as totally other may not in fact be quite so alien. In other areas, of course, insects are very different indeed and we struggle to accept these neighbours who will never go away and whom we often perceive as a threat or at the very least as unpleasant. They are elemental (Braidotti, 2011b: 104), adaptable and almost indestructible. Finally, zoë, possibly best exemplified by insects, represents that which is wild, largely indifferent to human actions and concerns, and which develops and multiplies regardless of what we do.

Another concept from Deleuze and Guattari which Braidotti has made central to her own nomadic theory is that of the rhizome. The rhizome is the antithesis of the treelike structures so beloved of much western thought. While the tree emphasises a central, main structure, which subsumes smaller branches and roots in a hierarchical arrangement, rhizomes are like mushrooms or mould and grow horizontally by a process of gradual expansion – in their very nature rhizomes demonstrate becoming. They grow from a centre, but after a very short period of growth it is difficult to determine which part of the rhizome was present first. Deleuze and Guattari describe the rhizome as lacking a centre or hierarchy, and although they state that there is no ‘organizing memory or central automaton’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987: 21), which McLean (2012: 269) summarises as lacking ‘a central coordinating structure’, they also claim that rats and ants are rhizomatic. In that sense then, there is something shared and a degree of purpose; that is to say, mushrooms or other fungi do not change species and do not form rhizomes with dandelions or beer bottles. Rats and ants clearly do spread and claim territory in rhizomatic ways, but they only engage in such rhizomatic behaviour with their own kind.

The final element in the nomadic theory programme of Braidotti and Deleuze and Guattari is lines of flight or of becoming (Braidotti, 2011b: 73). These lines are zigzag in form, ‘a creative alternative space of becoming’ (Braidotti, 2011a: 7) which allows chaotic and creative contact across boundaries and between disciplines. In Deleuze and Guattari’s original the term lignes de fuite is used, associating the concept not only with fleeing or escaping, but also more significantly with leaking out and dislocation. There is thus a feeling of opening up and moving into new space. I would tentatively add an additional sense which could be gained from the English lines of flight, which was not intended in the original French. If subjects are embodied and both centre and periphery are undergoing processes of renegotiation, then it is not unreasonable to suggest that their becoming, engaging in a creative process as a result of certain forces and from a given starting point, could also follow a rough and chaotic trajectory or envelope or line of flight in the sense of flying. Can we read lignes de vol back into Deleuze and Guattari?

Having laid out some of the basic concepts of the nomadic theory approach as established by Deleuze and Guattari and further developed by Braidotti, it is now time to let these interact with the comments on the future prospects for and challenges to Christian mission as addressed separately by Bendor-Samuel and Franklin in articles published together with my own article in this issue of Transformation.

Trialogue With Two Mission Leader Academics

Bendor-Samuel was careful to use the terms ‘challenge’ and ‘realignment’ in his title. This usage comes in response to the pressure on traditional, Christendom-inspired understandings and practices of Christian mission in the Protestant camp.

‘Christendom’ is a broad term and an elastic one too, yet it generally does carry connotations of power, empire and white, male authority. In that sense then, Christendom, or at the very least the mission workers it traditionally empowered and sent out, very much resembles the ‘majority subject’ which sits at the centre according to nomadic theory. Bringing nomadic theory into conversation with Bendor-Samuel’s description of Christendom mission suggests that traditional approaches to mission and their actors need to undergo becoming: becoming-woman, becoming-machine and becoming-insect. Certainly, the traditional idea of the highly trained and well-supported first world missionary (which these days also needs to include those from developed countries of the western Pacific Rim) would be transformed by becoming-woman. The experience would be of loss of agency, being viewed as a commodity rather than being assessed on the basis of what one can do, and working more in community than alone. Mission becoming-woman would be a lot more low-key and would work more from the margins and in the shadows.

For Christian mission to become-machine hints at greater interconnectivity and mutual reliance. In addition, machines are expendable and interchangeable; this can be understood in two ways. Negatively, missionaries would become just cogs in a vast machine and their contribution would be ignored and even downplayed; mission could be perceived of as monotonous and unrewarding, carried out by a limitless supply of almost identical co-workers (becoming-insect springs to mind!). More positively and perhaps paradoxically though, if missionaries are seen as smaller parts in a larger machine, and valued for their contribution rather than for who they are, then this could feed into the missio Dei idea which has recently become very influential and which is celebrated by Franklin in his piece. In addition, there is of course something very biblical about dying to oneself and dedicating oneself to the gospel. Such is evident in the gospels and the thought of St Paul; see Matt 16:24–25 and Gal 2:20, for example. Finally, increasing the connectivity of missionaries could improve meaningful communication with colleagues where they work and around the world, improving the sharing of resources and ideas; at the same time there exists the risk that multifaceted communication could act to reinforce western domination in the mission enterprise.

Within Bendor-Samuel’s critique of Christendom mission, becoming-insect could immediately expand the scope of mission from purely the redemption of human souls, to a balanced and biblical idea of redeeming the whole of creation. Becoming-insect reminds us of those in the zoësphere, our neighbours, who although in common understanding were not created in the image of God and for whom Christ did not die on the cross, are nonetheless the handiwork of the Creator and for whom we are responsible according to the stewardship mandate at the opening of Genesis. Acknowledging the vitality and relentless multiplication of our non-human neighbours (even those who are very different, with their hard, eternal shells, three-part bodies and three pairs of legs) also emphasises the common life we share with them despite the huge ontological difference. Indirectly, and with great care, we can also use becoming-insect to increase our respect for human others. Naturally, this is not to say that ethnic groups outside of our own are insects; yet it can give us pause as we consider how to value and respect human others, who at first blush appear to be totally foreign, completely alien to us, and are perhaps perceived as ‘all the same’. In Christian mission then, we can think of becoming-insect as a great leveller.

Both Bendor-Samuel and Franklin embrace the missio Dei concept, and it is interesting to bring this into dialogue with nomadic theory. This theory decentres everyone; the white, male, majority subject (and those who join him through family resemblance) is asked to undergo becoming, and so are those at the margins, which is entirely compatible with seeing mission as something belonging fundamentally to God rather than human beings. In nomadic theory, the centre and the margins are both challenged; it is not simply a matter of replacing western dominance with that from some part of the majority world. If all go through the process of becoming, being decentred and delocalised, then this makes it easier to acknowledge the true master of mission, God himself. We might argue that his perfect personality, his perichoretic unity in diversity and his love mean that he does not need to become. Yet at the same time we see from scripture that Christ’s self-emptying (Phil 2:6–11), incarnation, identification with the poor, empathy with women, questioning of authority and ultimate death as the result of an unfair trial are all supreme examples of becoming which drew him to and placed him at the margins; perhaps the most extreme form of becoming, open only to God himself, is becoming-Jesus. There is a parallel with our traditional explanation of Jesus’ baptism by John; the Lord did not need to be baptised but chose to be in order to identify with his people and empower those at the margins.

If we see our status as human beings within the missio Dei as working at the margins, with a sinless and perfect God at the centre, then our becoming makes it easier to grasp what God wants us to do and to follow him.

Two criticisms which have been levelled at ‘traditional Christian mission’ are that it maintains the status quo but also that its practitioners are always looking for ‘the latest thing’. At the macro level, western influence and power remain very obvious, while local and missiological challenges at the micro level have produced all manner of responses and even putative ‘silver bullets’ from western, and particularly American, mission scholars. Consider, for example, the homogeneous unit principle, the 10/40 window, church planting movements, holistic mission or whatever else has been fashionable over the last 30 years or more. None of these are necessarily wrong in themselves, but they have often been asked to carry too much freight or have been seen as universal principles forcibly applied into particular contexts, and as a result have been found wanting.

Nomadic theory liberates us by asking to think in terms of dynamis rather than stasis. We are encouraged to create and bring all manner of different disciplines and sources of knowledge together. We can zigzag and enter into various lignes de fuite, as the basis of nomadic thought is creativity and relationality. If those seen as sitting at the centre and those characterised as lounging at the margins come together in an attitude of mutual respect and with shared biblical DNA (and more on the rhizomes presently) then we should expect new approaches to mission and new interactions with secular scholarship and the various human sciences. Moving into these alternative spaces of creativity (the original lines of flight) could also see new groups of scholars and practitioners soar to greater heights as they trace lignes de vol (my reverse translation and eisegesis of Deleuze and Guattari’s French term rendered lines of flight in English). Christendom mission has been critiqued and rightly so, yet at the same time there is a repository of experience (good and bad) from which newer players in the mission endeavour could learn. As centre and periphery agree to become, in different ways and from different starting points, and in response to different situations and contextual needs, new trajectories of mission theory and praxis can be developed. The different journeys of change are inextricably linked and can draw on a common teleology.

Closely related to this is the matter of culture and theology. In today’s mission scholarship, contextualisation is already being challenged by local theology; one is seen as an attempt by outsiders to produce theology that fits the context in which they are working, while the other is the result of the efforts of local people to do their own theology. Although the general sense of the dichotomy is probably fair enough, there are surely cases where local believers have helped missionaries and other outsiders in their attempts to contextualise, as well as examples of experienced missionaries from nations with centuries of Christian tradition coming alongside majority world people who have received the gospel only in the last century or so and are now embarking on their own local theologies.

However we might wish to characterise what looks like a continuum with two polarised ends, the line of flight thinking which could give rise to new mission strategies (a grisly, modernist, Christendom word, but you know what I am getting at!) could also lead to local theologies which are genuine expressions of Christian faith, resonant with the Bible and critically engaging with local contexts and worldviews. The creative zigzagging between scripture and culture could result in very diverse theologies and new understandings of theological issues in specific contexts; such would be related according to a Wittgensteinian family resemblance model. Those at the (western) centre, traditional guardians of orthodoxy, may well find that becoming-insect lets them appreciate the creativity and vitality of those who initially seem so other.

This thread can be developed further by reference to the embodied subject or agent. Firstly, the putting back together of mind and body has implications for mission. If mission practitioners see themselves and those they seek to reach as a non-dualistic whole, then Christianity can once again celebrate the emotions and the non-rational; indeed, this is already happening in some parts of the Church. Mind and body together require us to take care of the whole person, with implications for physical and mental health, ministry to poor people, how mission looks at gender and so on. Also, viewing each person as an embodied subject, a given whole and unique entity, can mesh with a theology which sees God as sovereign, creating and calling each person to his or her role in mission. If we believe that it is God who endows each one with his or her own life experience and gifting, then seeing each person as a specific integration of mind and body could actually change the worldwide mission force (the last word used for want of a better term). Celebrating the nature, heritage and experience of all, regardless of their nationality, status or wealth, would allow cross-cultural mission to engage the best people from around the world and not privilege those from richer countries. Many of the major mission societies require their members to raise large amounts of financial support and it is a sad fact that it is still easier, financially, for a Canadian to serve in mission in Cambodia than it is for a Thai to serve in Taiwan. One wonders how many talented missionaries could have been recruited from poorer countries if those from affluent nations had had the vision and possibly the courage to donate money for the support of such people. A true recognition of the Christian as an embodied subject and agent, created and called by God, can also mesh with the missio Dei, which decentres everyone but God himself.

In addition, the rootedness of the embodied subject requires us (by which I mean everyone involved in the mission enterprise, regardless of heritage, ethnicity, gender or status) to carry out mission with people and to people in their context or Sitz im Leben. Embodiedness speaks of culture, gender, history, heritage and current issues faced by people where they live – their ‘lived experience’ (Braidotti, 2011a: 75). If all are embodied subjects, then all are part of the larger community and to some extent possess a shared habitus. If we accept these implications of being embodied (and thus also embedded), it is simply impossible for outsiders to fly in and unleash the latest reductionist model of mission on unsuspecting natives (and co-workers). Development and innovation have to come from and together with local embodied subjects. That the gospel is universal truth forces us then to think in terms of glocality; local theologies and approaches to mission are specific instantiations of a higher-level truth and principle. I find myself reminded again of just how little is said in the gospels about how we are to be Christians; we read clear general principles but there is precious little detail.

The same general line of thought addresses Bendor-Samuel’s point about professionals versus disciples, at least to an extent. Although professional missionaries and even clergy can be seen as a Christendom legacy, in some circumstances workers who have trained in theology and mission, or in specific skills such as translation, preaching, pastoral care, counselling and so on, do have a role to play and can meet needs in communities being reached with the gospel but which lack such specialist skills among their own people, at least while the church is small and biblical knowledge and discipleship are still weak. But as professional missionaries engage in the local community and context, they can and must help local believers to develop as disciples who can respond to their own context critically. This involves an atmosphere of partnership, or friendship in the mission enterprise, which is of such importance to Franklin.

One consequence of this is similar to Tambornino’s (2002) comment on incongruence. In the mission endeavour, as the gospel takes root and begins to work in the hearts of disciples, these Christian embodied subjects will sense their own incongruence vis-a-vis the existing moral and political order in their culture. Surely it is the shared task of missionary and local believer to identify this incongruence and to equip locals to manage and deal with it in ways which are both biblical and culturally appropriate. The agency inherent in the idea of local people as embodied means that they must take the lead in developing local theologies which respond to context.

The final aspect of embodied subjects or agents relates to community, and here there is overlap with becoming-machine. If we accept that human beings are entities composed of body and mind, or rather bodies and minds, then such embodiedness immediately reminds us that we live in community; truly no man or woman is an island. Our identities are formed in and by community and are negotiated at the boundaries between communities (Jenkins, 2008: 102–103). Similarly, becoming-machine entails a multifaceted connectivity, particularly in the age of the internet and social media, which have facilitated deep and meaningful (and sometimes toxic and abusive) connections between people, usually beyond the realm of the purely cognitive or rational. Whether face-to-face or virtually, relationality and friendship are of paramount importance.

It is fashionable and to some extent justified to critique western culture and the theology and missiology it has produced as individualistic. Majority world cultures are depicted as communitarian or group orientated, and there is much truth in this. Inasmuch as privileged white, male majority subjects have power and sit at the centre, they do not need to rely on or share with others and the charge of individualism can be levelled at them. At the same time, however, and this is allied to concepts such as hierarchy in cultures and the honour-shame continuum, it must be acknowledged that in some worldviews which understand unity as uniformity and conformity, the group can crush the individual and repress opinion and creativity. Nomadic thought reminds us that to move forward, both centre and periphery must undergo change and becoming. Those cultures which overstate the position of the individual and those which privilege the group both need to absorb the lessons of lines of flight, connectivity which empowers all and zigzagging creativity within a tension of individual-community identity. Church can thus be understood as a very special kind of community or group; with God at the centre and all members undergoing becoming, the ecclesia can challenge corrosive western individualism and repressive majority world conformism (both simplistically put) when these appear. Such organisms would sit rather uneasily in all cultures, in the world but not of it, and be uniquely equipped and located to take the lead in their own context and society.

The final chunk of nomadic theory of direct relevance to the pieces by Bendor-Samuel and Franklin is the rhizome. Both Bendor-Samuel and Franklin are clear in their criticism of the status quo in mission, but also welcoming of realignment, particularly as this relates to missio Dei and polycentrism. I choose to characterise the Christendom model or western-dominated missionary enterprise as fundamentally tree-like in nature. There is a centre, represented by roots in a particular location and type of soil. In addition, a solid trunk provides nutrition and water to the smaller branches which remain tied to that centre. As stated clearly by Deleuze and Guattari and implicitly agreed to by Braidotti, the rhizome is the antithesis of the tree. One grows vertically and maintains a strong, rigid centre while the other expands horizontally, two-dimensionally, in a flexible, almost chaotic nature. Indeed, while both Bendor-Samuel and Franklin speak positively about polycentrism in mission as an improvement on the traditional ‘from the West to the rest’, Deleuze and Guattari argue (in a more general and philosophical context) that even polycentrism is marked by ‘hierarchical modes of communication and pre-established paths’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987: 21). This therefore brings the question of whether polycentrism is sufficiently diverse, egalitarian and empowering of majority world missionaries, missiologies and theologies.

Franklin is enthusiastic for the polycentrism represented by the network-like operational and funding structures of his Wycliffe Global Alliance, and there seems much to be proud of. At the same time, WGA is not the only formerly traditional mission society or organisation to adopt such diversity and multiple centres. Indeed, in a time when the body of Christ is moving south and east, and parts of the non-western world are seeing powerful economic growth, demographics and economics almost dictate that mission should be ‘from everywhere, to everywhere’ rather than from (what used to be) Christendom to (what used to be) heathen territory.

Under polycentrism in the WGA, the locals do have the last word on issues such as the status of women or how to deal with bribery, and Franklin claims that those at the margins are assured a voice. However, if polycentrism involves recognising the continued existence of diverse, ‘self-regulating spheres of influence’ (Franklin, 2017): 282–300 within a political or social system, then there are still concentrations of power within a larger organisation (and here I am speaking in general terms and not specifically about Franklin’s Wycliffe Global Alliance). His article mentions balancing influence and incorporating new vitality and spirituality from the broader Christian community into the polycentric structure. Yet the descriptions of polycentrism given by Franklin still raise questions for this reader, who wonders if the reform of mission can go even further.

For example, consider the fact that mission is taught in diverse centres around the world according to a methodology and philosophy which is essentially American; I am not the first to flag up such matters and the curious are directed to the writings of David Lee, Rene Padilla and Samuel Escobar. In addition, and this was pointed out to me many years ago by mission leaders from the European mainland, almost all teaching, discussion and dialogue are carried out in English and often in accordance with American interactional norms and cultural patterns. Furthermore, because of the importance of finance in evangelical mission, to the extent that sometimes the tail does wag the dog, it can be the case that uninformed or ill-informed churches in the sending countries (which admittedly are more diverse than ever before) rely on narrow understandings of mission which they sometimes accept uncritically, and thus control the purse strings in accordance with their own beliefs and prejudices and without due consideration of the missionaries’ experience and wisdom or the situation of and challenges facing the local Christians.

The rhizome is a possible way forward and potential improvement on polycentrism, or perhaps a refinement of it, depending on where you are looking from. As summarised above, a rhizome covers territory by expanding in two dimensions as a splurge or centreless mass. After a period of expansion, it is impossible to see where the original centre was or where the growth came from. In that sense, it seems more genuinely egalitarian than forms of polycentrism which retain centres, even if they are smaller and well-connected. In addition, the rhizome is marked by a multiplicity of connections throughout its being, rather than a sophisticated system of spokes and centres. Further, if polycentres are still centres of power and influence, then presumably there are gatekeepers and quality control people who make sure that only certain suitably qualified parties gain access, possibly according to criteria which in themselves may be a hostage to western imperialism, Christendom or manifest destiny. By contrast the rhizome, in theory at least, has the potential to involve and include all, and mission, missiology and theology can be done by people at all levels of the church. If polycentrism promises diversity and balance in power and influence, as well as leadership in mission, then rhizomatic thinking may provide greater involvement of people at all levels, diversity of substance – the what we present of the gospel as well as the how we present it – and a greater role for embodied subjects. The messiness of the rhizome makes possible those spaces of innovation, lignes de fuite and my derived lignes de vol, as creative energy is allowed to escape from the centre and take flight along trajectories defined by critical engagement between gospel and culture by local people.

Franklin mentions the challenges to orthodoxy which can result from a diverse, polycentric approach and these could well be multiplied and intensified within a rhizome, which seems to have no coordinating centre. For all of its chaotic and apparently unrestrained character and growth, the rhizome retains the same DNA: mushrooms, mould, rats and ants remain true to their kind and all parts of the rhizomatic structure remain integrated with the whole. Within a mission or theological context, shared DNA means or implies that empowering various members of the community and letting embodied subjects work from and towards their context is done on the basis of shared fundamentals. In other words, a rhizomatic approach to mission would grant considerable freedom and accountability to all involved (professional and disciples, although under this scheme there is no need to dichotomise), as it would establish a degree of unity at a deeper, theological level and require less conformity at the level of practical implementation or strategy.

Conclusion

Bendor-Samuel and Franklin have given us useful critiques of cross-cultural mission and imaginings for its future. They have been frank in their assessment of the current state of the enterprise and its Christendom legacy. In many ways their views are congruent, and both show resonances with Ken Ross’ neat summary article on convergence between the mission thought of different traditions within the church.

I appreciate and salute the courage and willingness to share of both contributors, but feel the need to take the conversation a little further. Naturally, in an article of this kind and length, I have the luxury of not having to lay out precise implementations of my thinking. Yet the fact remains that the fundamental concepts of nomadic theory constitute powerful dialogue partners with the forces seeking to realign the Protestant mission movement. The need for both centre and periphery to undergo becoming, the centrality of the embodied subject and the idea of the rhizome can be applied into evolving understandings of and proposals for cross-cultural mission. I hope that the employment of a thread of continental philosophy which some might find surprising and even unconventional might take this reformist conversation forward a little further.