In late 2009, I had the opportunity to accompany a Cortorari Roma family during one of their begging stints in Italy, as part of my PhD fieldwork. This experience provided me with invaluable insights into the art of begging. Drawing from my own firsthand experiences and observations, as well as from ongoing conversations with the Cortorari since the early 2000s[1], this piece sheds light on how the Cortorari Roma view begging as a kind of work that demands the bodily training and attention. Additionally, we take a brief journey into the historical livelihoods of the Cortorari. It becomes evident that begging only emerged as a means of survival in the last two decades. This relatively recent development challenges common stereotypes and misconceptions that wrongly portray begging as an inherent aspect of Roma culture or a predetermined cultural practice.

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“When I go begging, I work with my arms, and I strain my nerves,” Aunt Tina emphatically declared upon her return from one of her frequent begging trips abroad. I had become accustomed to her constant complaints about her sore body during her stays at home, a direct result of her begging activities overseas. However, this time, her words carried added weight as she recounted a particular story. This narrative revealed contrasting conceptions of begging: those held by Aunt Tina and her community, and those of my liberal-minded acquaintances, as well as the broader modern capitalist society and the modern State.

She fondly recalled how she proudly refused the offer of money and a free return ticket to Romania from the Parisian local authorities. This event, occurring at the end of 2008, was just one instance of the series of crackdowns by the French government on the growing migration of Eastern European Roma. These measures included expulsion policies, demolishing their encampments, and repatriating Romanian Roma. Officials justified these actions by claiming that Roma were in France for short stays to exploit the social assistance system. The French State, and presumably much of modern capitalist society, viewed people like Aunt Tina, who begged on the streets of Paris, as idle parasites. This perception stems from the capitalist society’s opposition of work to begging, which is disdainfully seen as “getting something for nothing.” However, Aunt Tina and the Cortorari Roma I know not only avoided social benefit systems but also rejected the modern (punitive) state’s association between work and the prohibition of idleness and begging.

The French State and presumably most modern capitalist society regarded people like Aunt Tina who begged on the streets of Paris, as idle spongers, parasites. This is so because modern capitalist society opposes work to beggary, which is disdainfully regarded as “getting something for nothing”. Yet, not only did Aunt Tina and the other Cortorari Roma that I know have constantly avoided the social benefits systems, but they did not embrace the association made by the modern (punitive) state between work and the prohibition of idleness and beggary.

In his book “Poverty: A History” (1994), B. Geremek recounts that beggars were a common sight in the social landscape of medieval Christian civilization. They played a specific role in the moral order of society, serving as intermediaries between this world and the afterlife. As medieval society disintegrated and capitalism emerged, states and cities took measures to eradicate begging and vagrancy while promoting the work ethic. With the rise of industrialization in the US and Western Europe, work became synonymous with waged labor and gainful employment, disconnected from family and household, and intertwined with hierarchical relations. In this context, begging was disdainfully viewed as a form of non-work.

On the contrary, Cortorari view begging (manglimos) as a kind of work that requires physical training and attention. It is deeply rooted in kinship relations, and the money earned from this type of work is referred to as love muncime (money gained through work) by the Cortorari. Reflecting on Auntie Tina’s story, it is striking how she responded to the charitable offer made by the French State. In her broken French, she declared, “I don’t need your money. How could I take money for free as long as my arms are still able for work and my legs for walking? I earn my money through my work.”

Short excursion into Cortorari’s past and present livelihoods

Cortorari are a Romani speaking population who marry within their own community. They reside in villages in Southern Transylvania, coexisting with ethnic Romanians, other Roma groups (non-Cortorari), and a dwindling number of Saxons. Throughout my acquaintance with them, Cortorari have maintained their livelihood through various means. These include copper manufacturing and the trading of copper artifacts and antiques. Men have been typically involved in horse rearing for sale, while women often reared pigs. Additionally, Cortorari have been engaged in family-intensive farming in villages where it is viable. In recent years, alongside these activities, Cortorari have also ventured into begging and busking abroad, adding to the complexity of their economic strategies.

Before the onset of state socialism in Romania, which effectively settled them, Cortorari (a name that translates to “Tent Dwellers”) led a nomadic lifestyle. They would pitch their tents on the outskirts of various villages, often those where they still reside today, and roam the surrounding areas in search of produce and food. Men would repair cauldrons and other household utensils, while women would tell fortunes, trade trinkets, or simply ask for alms from familiar faces in the village. In exchange for their services, Cortorari received sustenance for their families and animals. They referred to all these activities as ja gavendar, a phrasing broadly meaning to wander around villages as if aimlessly- presumably a rendering of the idea that the success of barter was contingent on the persuasive conversations held by the service providers, and on serendipitous encounters.

During the era of state socialism, when efforts were made to centralize Romania’s workforce in factories and collective farms, Cortorari found ways to navigate around official regulations. They continued their own economic activities, which remained deeply intertwined with kinship relations. Men obtained licenses that permitted them to travel between villages and sell copper cauldrons, while women gleaned the fields of cooperative farms to gather food for the pigs they raised for sale.

In the early 2000s, prompted by Romania’s accession to the EU, Cortorari began to venture abroad. Both men and women engaged in begging activities, and more recently, albeit sporadically, in busking. Cortorari indiscriminately refer to these activities abroad as manglimos (begging), a novel pursuit that had no equivalent in their past livelihoods. The emergence of begging coincided with the advent of the so-called “free-market” in post-socialist Romania, which brought about a new inflection and valorisation of money and cash in the region. Cortorari redirected the earnings from begging into their traditional kinship practices, such as weddings, dowries, and house construction. Meanwhile, economic activities conducted in their home villages covered daily household expenses and provided for sharing with relatives. In contrast, begging practiced far from home allowed for savings to be accumulated. Cortorari aptly term these distant places k-al love (where money is made), portraying them as impersonal spaces conducive to wealth accumulation.

In a nutshell, throughout their history, Cortorari have lived outside of waged labor relations, instead organizing their economic activities in accordance with kinship and gender dynamics. Unlike the concept of work as understood within capitalist societies, which is often divorced from family and household reproduction, Cortorari’s approach to work is deeply intertwined with kinship relations. Work among Cortorari is organized within the (extended) family, blurring the lines between economic and non-economic relations. In Marxist terms, work cannot be alienated from its practitioners nor easily transacted within Cortorari lifestyle.

Only recently, during the Covid-19 pandemic, when citywide curfews enforced in European countries of destination threatened their begging activities, several young Cortorari reluctantly took up sporadic, unskilled, low-paid jobs in meat processing factories, butcher shops, or packing industries abroad. However, they harbored a deep aversion towards waged labor, not only due to its hierarchical nature but primarily because it imposed rigid working hours and rhythms that hindered their ability to fulfill moral obligations to their kin. As soon as pandemic restrictions were lifted, Cortorari swiftly returned to begging, preferring the flexibility and autonomy it afforded them over the constraints of waged labor.

Changing the Traditional Outfit for the Beggar’s Garb

Fifteen years ago, during my PhD fieldwork, I accompanied a Cortorari family on one of their begging trips to Northern Italy, where I also engaged in begging activities myself.

Much like other mundane or ritual events that are not planned in advance, Cortorari’s decisions to travel abroad were often made on a whim. Adjusting to Cortorari lifestyle posed challenges for me, and this was one of the most difficult instances to reconcile with. Accustomed to preparing and planning my trips abroad meticulously, it took me some time to adapt to the spontaneous nature of their departures, and finally resolve to leave. On a late morning in autumn, following a street altercation involving Costica and his in-laws, he informed me that his family was preparing to leave for Italy. As is customary for Cortorari when they decide to depart, he gathered a few close relatives and arranged for a mini-bus driver to pick them up.

In contrast to waged work, which typically has clearly defined beginning and end dates, the timing of begging activities among Cortorari is determined by family financial needs and unforeseen circumstances. The duration of one’s stay abroad is not measured in temporal terms, but rather in the amount of cash accumulated or targeted. During my fieldwork in the village, when I inquired about how long people intended to stay abroad, they often responded by citing monetary goals: “until I earn one, two thousand euro…”. These desired earnings reflected people’s moral obligations towards their kin. Begging was undertaken in the role of a (grand)parent striving to save money for their (grand)daughter’s dowry or their (grand)son’s ongoing house construction, which adapted to accommodate new family members and architectural trends. Furthermore, one would hasten their return home if an unplanned wedding commenced, if there was conflict threatening loved ones back home, or if a relative fell ill.

The hasty departure is preceded by a ritual changing of attire. In their home villages in Romania, Cortorari stand out with their distinctive clothing, with women donning ankle-length colorful pleated skirts and floral scarves on their heads, and men sporting black velour hats. This attire serves as a marker of their group identity and also signifies internal differences related to marital status, age, and gender, as well as their embedded moral values. However, when they venture abroad, Cortorari discard their customary attire for worn-out, nondescript grey outfits, which they believe align with the generic image of a beggar. Symbolically, this represents a twofold transformation: they temporarily suspend both their Cortorari Roma identity, and the moral expectations associated with kinship and gender relations, as signified by their clothing at home. In essence, Cortorari relinquish their collective morality tied to their household and community and adopt a more “individualistic” stance as they assume the guise of beggars abroad.

In Italy, we maintained a low profile, avoiding detection by both local authorities and other Cortorari Roma. Most Cortorari traveled abroad with their immediate families, each having their preferred destination where they were familiar with the area and potential sleeping spots. As a newcomer, like myself, one needed to learn the spatial layout of the host town. During the initial nights of our stay, we slept outdoors, often in parks or under bridges. When the rain began, we bedded down on the floors of abandoned houses, sharing the space with other destitute individuals, along with rats and mice. Our sleeping arrangements in Italy were as transient as our presence. We only became visible, yet indistinguishable from other beggars of various backgrounds, once we took to the streets.

The Carnal Work of Begging

A successful day of begging typically begins early in the morning, as territory for begging is negotiated based on the principle of “first come, first served.” By 5 a.m., before the street sweepers arrived, we had cleared away any evidence of our makeshift beds in the park and made our way to the railway station for morning coffee. Other beggars would join us, arriving one by one, and exchanging brief greetings before swiftly shifting the conversation towards plans for the day. It seemed that the railway station served as the hub for dividing and distributing begging territories. In small groups, people would board trains or buses bound for nearby towns or localities, where they would beg for the day. Disputes over begging territories were not uncommon, with priority typically given to those with greater experience in the area. Thus, the right to “own” a begging spot was directly proportional to an individual’s familiarity with the area.

My firsthand experience with begging in Italy affirmed Auntie Tina’s words in the opening vignette. Begging is indeed a skilled trade or craft, honed through rigorous training of the body to adopt specific postures, walks, and gazes that convey humility and destitution, eliciting sympathy from passersby. The know-how of begging resides within the flesh and the body. It is measured not only by the gains it generates but also by the physical pain experienced in the muscles and bones. As Cortorari describe it, the rewards of begging are directly proportional to the intensity of bodily pain endured during and after the act. The art of begging is deeply rooted in the body, best understood as carnal knowledge or pre-discursive knowledge.

Begging styles vary greatly from one person to another. Some individuals kneel in front of churches, while others prefer to roam around restaurants and terraces. Some may contort their arms and legs to feign physical disabilities, while others may shake their heads to evoke pity. Each person develops their own unique style of begging based on their individual choices, physical abilities, gender, age, and demeanor. For example, middle-aged men often grow long beards and are commonly seen begging outside supermarkets, while younger men may adopt postures such as bending or limping, or push their physical limits to fake disabilities. These diverse approaches to begging reflect the idea expressed by Cortorari back home: “the way one begs nobody can emulate.” Each person’s style is distinctive and cannot be replicated by others.

Rather than being primarily informed by ethnicity or culture, begging is fundamentally rooted in carnal knowledge, which transcends ethnic and cultural boundaries. This perspective echoes Loïc Wacquant’s “Body & Soul” (2004), an ethnography of the pugilistic culture in a black ghetto in Chicago. Wacquant demonstrates that despite common misconceptions associating boxing with blackness, the process of shaping the bodies of boxers primarily involves the flesh, viscera, and carnal knowledge, overshadowing structural racial differences. The book recounts the experiences of a white French author apprenticing in the boxing trade within a predominantly black gym.

Mutatis mutandis, begging cannot be considered an inherent trait of Roma culture. Illustratively, I encountered Cortorari individuals who expressed shame regarding begging abroad, or at least conveyed such sentiments during our conversations. They preferred to engage in domestic activities as sources of income. Some had attempted begging abroad but encountered difficulties and ultimately decided it was not suitable for them. In contrast, despite my own ethnic background, I demonstrated a willingness to learn the art of begging and participated in begging activities for a brief period of time.

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In summary, my research demonstrates that Cortorari view begging as a form of work that demands physical training and attention. Its emergence coincided with broader social and political shifts associated with Romania’s EU accession and its transition to a post-socialist economy. Unlike capitalist labor, which often separates from family and household, begging is integrated within kinship networks, with its rhythms and timings influenced by family needs. Contrary to common misconceptions, begging is not an inherent aspect of Roma culture but rather grounded in the physicality of the body. It is a practice open to anyone, regardless of ethnic background, as evidenced by my own participation in begging activities.

Works cited

Geremek, Bronislaw. 1994 .  Poverty : a history. Trans. by Agnieszka Kolakowska. Oxford: Blackwell

Wacquant, Loïc 2004. Body & Soul: Notebooks of an Apprentice Boxer. New York: Oxford University Press

[1] I am thankful to the Wenner Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research US for awarding me a Wadsworth International Fellowship to pursue my PhD in social anthropology at UCL