Monday 1 July 2013

Anti-violence Counseling in India

Reforming Kinship Ideologies through Language Ideology?


In December of 2012, North India burst onto the international news, as middle-class Indians and activists took to the streets in response to a brutal gang-rape in Delhi. In the ensuing debates about how best to protect vulnerable women, women’s rights activists in the region articulated a long-standing concern: that patriarchal norms, rooted in patrilineal kinship ideology, distort the justice system. Police are frequently accused, for example, of pressuring rape victims to consider marriage with their aggressor. Activists pointed to the mishandling of rape cases as evidence that women are not heard as individual victims, but rather as disorderly family members. Women’s rights activists in India and abroad regularly criticize institutions like police stations and family courts for pressuring vulnerable women to “reconcile” with their abusers, whether individual men or family members. Activists worry that such reconciliation supports, rather than dismantles, the patriarchal structures that enable intimate violence against women.

Science and the Practice of Anthropology

One of my professors used to say, “Everyone is born a little Aristotelian or a little Platonist.” The tension around the best way to understand people has been around for as long as there has been anthropology. Should we consider humans from the perspective of ideas or material conditions? How does evolution apply to culture, society, mind, language? How can science be applied to humankind?


I began high school right after Sputnik, when it seemed the survival of the US depended critically on educating us in science. In high school, I won several awards for scientific accomplishments. When I got to university, I was ready for a challenging scientific career. I majored in pre-med. It was a rich curriculum: biology, chemistry and a lot of philosophy and math. Like my peers, I came out well-educated in the methods and theories of science.


After deciding against medical school, I found a comfortable niche in anthropology. I adapted the approaches that I had learned as an undergraduate to the broad and complex field of anthropology. My department had little formal science training so my scientific background was important. I knew science and what to do with it. I built research protocols, collected and interpreted data and learned to be generous in considering the role of bias and error in my work. I got a tenure-track job in a four-member university department. We all taught cultural anthropology and we each got a “field” of anthropology to cover. I became the biological anthropologist. I learned still more about science in anthropology as I taught others how to think about human biology, evolution and race.


I moved out of the academy into practicing anthropology in 1984. It was difficult to see how what I had done in anthropology could apply to my post-academic life. Eventually I landed on my feet as a program evaluator for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). The clients—physicians, nurses, epidemiologists—were scientific in their orientation. In fact, this was often their only orientation. But for CDC to practice public health, they needed to know how their activities linked up with the cultural context in which people lived their lives. They brought me into projects to help them do that—scientifically. It was a perfect job for me.


For a while, developments in anthropology were eclipsed by the demands of learning my new job. After five years something significant seemed to have happened in anthropology. Everyone was talking about post-modernism, embodiment and globalization. I didn’t hear a lot about science and what I did hear made it sound like an activity of questionable ethicality. I couldn’t figure out where I fit into this new anthropology. In my job I used science every day. Did I still have a place in anthropology? Was I even still an anthropologist?


Now I’ve turned the corner again. I’m teaching, writing, advising graduate students and I’m much closer to the academic endeavor than I have been in some years. As is always the case when I make a career turn, I needed to catch up on post-modernism, post-post modernism and other things, some of which came and went as important modes of anthropological thought while I wasn’t looking. I needed to read up quickly to understand the anthropology in which my students are developing. They are studying anthropology as it is now. And most of my students are headed for careers in practice.


What do I tell them? I say to them that an understanding of and comfort with scientific thinking will be essential to what they do. Much practicing anthropology informs policies, activities and production within interdisciplinary teams that are at least partly scientific in their approach. In the world outside of anthropology, there is no sign that we are approaching a post-scientific era. It is our job to promote an anthropological science that is technically sound, beneficial to the people that we work with and grounded in justice. To do that we must know science.


The scientific method is easily taught. But science is more than a method for investigating things. Intrinsic to thinking scientifically are mental habits that serve us well in practice. Many of these are part of the basic thinking of anthropologists. We know that the reality of human life is embedded in the perspectives of many people with different assumptions about how the world works. Science for us teases out the common elements of a situation by gathering as many points of view as we can find. In this way the field in which everyone operates begins to emerge from the noise of conflicting positions.


We also develop skepticism about what we are told. As I wrote this, the Boston marathon bombings were dominating the media. In that moment of media saturation, I kept asking myself, “How do they know that?” “Is this true or even feasible?” “Where did they get that information?” Drowned as we are in information, it’s wise to be skeptical of what you see and hear. This is a habit that I learned as I cross-checked what people told me; struggled to hold contradictions in my mind rather than to run to resolution; and to suspend judgment on outcomes until the data are in.


When I became an anthropologist back in the 1970s, there wasn’t much doubt that anthropology was—or at least could be—the science of humans. Anthropology has changed since then. I am not suggesting that anthropology must be scientific by definition. There is certainly room for other modes of thinking and acting. For anthropology, many perceptions contribute to our thinking about humans and to our strength as a discipline. But when the linkage of findings to some kind of evidence is what gives a study its value, science is a more productive way to view things. As professionals we use science in developing the understandings that we provide to others. As teachers we must give opportunities for our students to practice these skills.


Mary Odell Butler and Barbara Rylko Bauer are contributing editors of Anthropology Works, the AN column of the AAA Committee on Practicing, Applied and Public Interest Anthropology.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/07/01/science-and-the-practice-of-anthropology/

Wednesday 26 June 2013

Archaeologists unearth Tuscaloosa's early history

As the former location of a Civil War outhouse and POW facility to an antebellum furniture maker and ice factory, a patch of dirt in downtown Tuscaloosa has hidden a wealth of Southern history within its layers. Excavations are further revealing some of the country’s rich past.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130626153902.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

A 700,000 year old horse gets its genome sequenced

Scientists have just sequenced the oldest genome from a prehistoric creature. They have done so by sequencing and analyzing short pieces of DNA molecules preserved in bone-remnants from a horse that had been kept frozen for the last 700,000 years in the permafrost of Yukon, Canada.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130626142938.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Chimps or humans: Who's the better baseball pitcher?

Scientists collected motion data from baseball players to uncover why humans are such good throwers. Little leaguers and professional baseball players alike have our extinct ancestors to thank for their success on the mound, shows a new study. Of course, the ability to throw fast and accurately did not evolve so our ancestors could play ball. Instead, the study proposes that this ability first evolved nearly 2 million years ago to aid in hunting. Humans are unique in their throwing ability, even when compared to our chimpanzee cousins.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130626142710.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Monday 24 June 2013

Two mutations triggered an evolutionary leap 500 million years ago

Scientists have discovered two key mutations that sparked a hormonal revolution 500 million years ago. In a feat of "molecular time travel," the researchers resurrected and analyzed the functions of the ancestors of genes that play key roles in modern human reproduction, development, immunity and cancer.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130624152617.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Friday 21 June 2013

Annals Editor Search

Annals of Anthropological Practice: An Exciting Opportunity


NAPA seeks an editor or co-editors for the Annals of Anthropological Practice (AAP; formerly the NAPA Bulletin). The Annals, NAPA’s flagship publication, biannually publishes relevant issues at the forefront of practicing anthropology.


The editor(s) should be both topically and technically aware of current issues in practicing anthropology and also be able to guide contributors effectively to produce high quality, peer-reviewed issues. These may be theme-based and/or inclusive of voluntary submitted papers. The editor(s) should have a solid publication record in applied and/or practicing anthropology, be at least at the associate level or equivalent, and have an excellent command of English. The new editor(s) will be expected to recruit a team of associate editors and an editorial board for the journal.


Duties of the editor include: publicize AAP and solicit relevant articles on diverse topics of interests from university-based scholars and practitioners; oversee associate editors and editorial board; facilitate peer-review of the submitted manuscripts; read manuscripts to ensure rigor, quality, and relevance; verify facts and formatting; and review and approve proofs prior to the publication production.


For further details and information on what the position involves, contact NAPA President Lenora Bohren (lenora.bohren@colostate.edu) and Past President Tim Wallace (tmwallace@mindspring.com) as soon as possible.


To submit contributions to NAPA Section News, please contact Contributing Editors Lisa Henry (lisa.henry@unt.edu ) or Jo Aiken (jonieaiken@gmail.com )






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/21/annals-editor-search/

Thursday 20 June 2013

Reflections on Sectarianism in Syria

Contributing Editor’s note: This piece was originally published in the print version of Anthropology News in November 2012.


Relentless in their 19-month struggle, peaceful anti-regime protesters continue to cry out for Syrian unity: “one, one, one, the people of Syria are one” (wahid, wahid, wahid, al-sha‘b al-suri wahid). This call reflects, and rejects, competing sentiments. As a conflict begun with pro-democracy demonstrations evolves into civil war, sectarian distinctions increasingly inflect activist, rebel and pro-regime discourses alike. It is therefore worth examining how Syrians perceive, experience and reconfigure religious-based difference.


The rise of localisms tinged with religion speaks to the failures of Arab socialism and Ba‘thist nationalism. My intermittent fieldwork in Damascus, begun in the early 1990s, reveals that despite—or indeed because of—the al-Asad regime’s efforts to suppress them, religious distinctions have reemerged, alloyed with those of class and region. Sectarian idioms express dissatisfactions and disappointments, as group affiliations are believed to determine access to positions of power and influence. They surface, for example, in response to state-sanctioned television dramas, where attempts to evoke a sense of nationhood frequently backfire.


The al-Asad kleptocracy, built over four decades under a cloak of socialist secularism, feeds perceptions of sectarian privilege. For a small segment of Syria’s heterodox Shi‘i ‘Alawi community—today an estimated 10-15% of the population—a stunning reversal of fortunes occurred within living memory. Before the 1960s, elite urban families—primarily from Damascus and Aleppo—dominated political and economic life in Syria. They had little in common with the majority population, beyond a Sunni Muslim affiliation. With the Ba‘th (Renaissance) Party takeover in 1963, political power shifted to a largely rural military elite, among whom ‘Alawis dominated. Damascenes and Aleppines were systematically displaced from key positions. The urban bourgeoisie was forced to do business with their erstwhile social inferiors: ‘Alawis from coastal villages whose daughters had only recently served in Damascene households. A cold peace ensued, anchored by shared interests, but laced with mutual resentment. Each group assumes the other’s advantage: ‘Alawis point to the enduring prosperity of Damascus’ “merchant princes;” Damascenes to well-placed ‘Alawis’ control of licensing and smuggling.


The majority of ‘Alawis suffer an inaccurate association with privilege. Urban Sunnis sometimes acknowledge that many ‘Alawis remain impoverished. Nevertheless, the claim that “all ‘Alawis are connected to power” has become a frequent refrain. More than a reference to religious belief, the term “‘Alawi” connotes class and region; avowed atheists hurl sectarian accusations against each other. This has intensified during the conflict. As a Damascene friend put it, people are no longer afraid of criticizing the regime; they now fear each other. Discourses of resentment, fueled by a combination of official doublespeak, skewed access to resources, and radical exiled Islamists, instill fear among ‘Alawis, other religious minorities, and Sunni secularists alike. Paradoxically, the urban elites who have long condemned what they saw as an ‘Alawi parvenucracy have been slow to support the opposition. They have learned to live (well) with the status quo, and fear its likely alternatives. Secularists, among them Sunni believers who reject the Islamization of public life, dread the influence of the puritanical Salafism that animates factions of the Saudi and Qatari-backed opposition. Islamists’ rise in post- revolutionary Tunisia and Egypt worries them. Staunch nationalists fear NATO interference. Most Syrians, urban and rural Sunni Muslims suffering from unrelenting authoritarianism, unbridled neoliberalism and devastating drought, have less to lose. Underclass youth swell the ranks of peaceful protestors, opposition militias, and shabbiha, armed gangs of regime supporters.


Given the media blackout, gauging support for the opposition is difficult. While it may be shifting in response to regime brutality, the three positions described to me by a Syrian friend last August offers an insight:


My father, who has never benefitted from the regime, is 100% for it, and thinks the protests are part of a foreign conspiracy. My brother has been arrested at protests. My father watches (pro-regime) Dunya TV, my brother, al Jazeera, and I think both channels are lying. There are many households divided in this way.


The uprising has afforded Syrians the freedom to acknowledge, discuss and potentially overcome sectarian divisions, once as taboo as they were salient. An understanding of these complex fault lines should inform reconciliation efforts to which anthropologists will hopefully contribute.


Christa Salamandra is associate professor of anthropology at Lehman College CUNY.


Jessica Winegar is editor of Human Rights Forum, the AN column of the AAA Committee for Human Rights. She may be contacted at j-winegar@northwestern.edu.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/20/reflections-on-sectarianism-in-syria/

Snail trail reveals ancient human migration

Geneticists have used snails to uncover evidence of an ancient human migration from the Pyrenean region of France to Ireland.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130620084633.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Snail genetic tracks reveal ancient human migration: Mesolithic humans may have carried snail species from France to Ireland

Some snails in Ireland and the Pyrenees are genetically almost identical, perhaps because they were carried across the Atlantic during an 8000-year-old human migration. The snail genetics tie in with studies of human genetics and the colonization of Ireland, according to new research.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130619195131.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Wednesday 19 June 2013

Was prehistoric rock art strategically placed to reveal a cosmological puzzle?

Recently, the discoveries of prehistoric rock art have become more common. With these discoveries, according to one researcher, comes a single giant one -- all these drawing and engravings map the prehistoric peoples' cosmological world.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130619122129.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

New language discovery in remote Indigenous community in Australia reveals linguistic insights

A new language has been discovered in a remote Indigenous community in northern Australia that is generated from a unique combination of elements from other languages.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130618101729.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Scientists date prehistoric bacterial invasion still present in today's plant and animal cells

How long ago did bacteria invade the one-celled ancestors of plants and animals to become energy-producing mitochondria and photosynthesizing chloroplasts? Researchers developed a statistical way to analyze the variation in genes common to mitochondria, chloroplasts and the eukaryotic nucleus to more precisely date these events. They found that the cyanobacterial invasion of plants took place millions of years more recently than thought.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130619164804.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

New research backs genetic 'switches' in human evolution

A new study offers further proof that the divergence of humans from chimpanzees some 4 million to 6 million years ago was profoundly influenced by mutations to DNA sequences that play roles in turning genes on and off.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130619091319.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Tuesday 18 June 2013

Stone Age technological and cultural innovation accelerated by climate change

Technological innovation during the Stone Age occurred in fits and starts and was climate-driven, according to new research. Abrupt changes in rainfall in South Africa 40,000 to 80,000 years ago triggered the development of technologies for finding refuge and the behavior of modern humans.



via ScienceDaily: Anthropology News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/06/130618101510.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily%2Ffossils_ruins%2Fanthropology+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Fossils+%26+Ruins+News+--+Anthropology%29

Monday 17 June 2013

How Collaborative Action Research is Advancing the Fight Against Racism in Puerto Rico

Book cover. Anti-racism curriculum in Puerto Rico. Photo courtesy of author.

Book cover. Anti-racism curriculum in Puerto Rico. Photo courtesy Hilda Lloréns



The pioneering textbook Arrancando Mitos de Raíz: Guía para una Enseñanza Antirracista en Puerto Rico (Pulling-up myths by their roots: A guide for the anti-racist teaching of Puerto Rico’s African heritage) was published in early 2013. Written in accessible and clear language and complete with practical exercises, it is intended to assist in educating teachers, university students, social workers, educational policy makers, and generally anyone interested in combating racism in Puerto Rico. This book is the result of an applied anthropology and interdisciplinary social-science research project entitled, “Beyond the Self: Towards an Integral Approach to an Anti-racist Pedagogy in Elementary Education,” funded by the National Institutes of Health. Spearheaded by Isar Godreau, a leading race scholar and former director of the Institute of Interdisciplinary Research at the University of Puerto Rico at Cayey, the initial field research phase took place over a six-year period (2004-09). A multi-disciplinary team, composed by anthropologists, psychologists, anti-racist community organizers, and a performance/theater professional, carried out this research. They conducted observations, focus groups, interviews, questionnaires, textual, discourse, and visual analysis at two elementary schools, one in Cayey and another, in Arroyo, PR. They sought to answer: (1) whether institutional racism was embedded within school curricula (ie, in textbooks, lessons, and extracurricular activities); and (2) whether children who exhibited “black” physical features were routinely exposed to racism and discrimination in school.



Project collaborators. From right to left: Hilda Lloréns, María Reinat Pumarejo, Isar Godreau, Sherry Cuadrado, Mariluz Franco, Jessica Gaspar and Inés Canabal. Photo courtesy Hilda Lloréns



Findings from the study—parts of which have been published in various journals—revealed that racism was pervasive in schools. At the institutional level, we found that curricular materials and lessons taught students five recurrent and specific myths about Africa, the African heritage, and blackness in Puerto Rico. These five myths are: (1) Africa is a poor, primitive place of little importance in the world; (2) slaves were passive victims of slavery; (3) all black persons in Puerto Rico were slaves prior to the abolition of slavery; (4) the contributions of our African heritage are limited to music, folklore and hard labor; (5) in Puerto Rico, the majority of black persons disappeared as a result of race mixing or mestizaje.


At the interpersonal level, racial discrimination among students included the rejection, humiliation, mockery, and even physical abuse of children who exhibited “black features.” There was widespread rejection of physical traits associated with blackness, specifically as it related to hair, skin color, and lip shape. There were also clear gender dimensions associated with particular traits. For example, “black hair” is a common target of ridicule for girls, while insults related to hyper-sexuality (eg, bellaco/horny), are common for boys. Consequently, we found that students who are victims of racism experience emotional instability, anxiety, and isolation. Students often begin to experience racial discrimination in elementary school and continue to encounter racism throughout the entirety of their schooling experience. These on-going aggressions lead to feelings of marginality, low self-esteem, dropping out of school, and even in engaging in self-destructive behavior such as taking drugs. Teachers, social workers, and parents reported during the interviews that other consequences of racism involved acting-out, misbehaving, getting in trouble with school authorities, and ultimately getting expelled from school.


We found that although well intended, teachers and other school personnel are inadequately prepared to confront and handle incidents of racism in school. For example, while 83% of the teachers surveyed agreed that racism exists in Puerto Rico, 73% also said that children do not experience the effects of racism in schools. These answers directly contradict qualitative findings in which teachers’ repeatedly recount incidents of racism in their classrooms and in their schools. Similarly, when surveyed about physical appearance, 50% of children in one third-grade classroom said things such as: “I would like to change my eye color because I want to have green eyes instead of brown;” “I have curly and ugly hair and I don’t like my hair, I like straight hair (pelo lacio);” “I’d like to change my nose, so that I can have a straight nose (nariz perfilada);” and, “I would like to have white skin.”


The applied nature of the project called for the development of strategies to tackle racism. During the second, action-oriented phase of the project (2009-13), which was funded by the Fundación Puertorriqueña de las Humanidades, the team expanded to include collaborators with expertise ranging from pedagogical plan development and teacher training, performance/theater, African music and mathematics. During this phase the team organized and carried out teacher trainings and workshops during which exercises now included in the textbook were first developed and piloted. This phase also included writing and revising the textbook.


The objectives of the textbook include the fostering of pride about African heritage, to promote positive attachment to blackness and the African heritage among school age children, to build a critical consciousness around the ways in which blackness has historically been associated with inferiority and whitenesss with superiority, and to help diminish the effects of racism among students. To achieve these goals the book offers (1) definitions of racism and examples of its manifestations in Puerto Rico and in the school context; (2) alternative and positive messages to counteract the existing myths (detailed above); (3) practical dialogues offering concrete examples and tools to respond to racism in real-world situations; (4) an annotated list of resources for teachers including readings, stories, films and videos, websites, and other resources about the themes developed throughout the text; (5) curricular suggestions for developing positive lessons about Africa, as well as a model for a Mathematics and Spanish lesson plan; and (6) practical recommendations and resources for confronting interpersonal racism.


Finally, this research project and the publication of the textbook led to the 2013 founding of the collective Movimiento para una Educación Antirracista (MovEA), which is open to anyone interested in combating racism in Puerto Rico. Its goals are to establish a nationally recognized working agenda and a network of organizations and people committed to promoting racial equality and justice (more information can be found here).


Hilda Lloréns is visiting assistant professor in the Ethnic Studies program at Brown University. Currently, she is at work on her book, Sentinels of Colonial Modernity: Artistic and Photographic Representations of Puerto Rico during the American Century.


Please send any comments, suggestions, and ideas for future columns to SLACA AN Contributing Editor Ronda Brulotte at brulotte@unm.edu.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/17/how-collaborative-action-research-is-advancing-the-fight-against-racism-in-puerto-rico/

Anthropology’s Response to Finding Jobs for Its Undergraduates

Experiential Learning Opportunities


In 2001, David Thornton Moore wrote about the benefits of experiential learning for anthropology students that included the opportunity to apply theory one has learned in class, the ability to give back to the community, as well as the personal development and the value-added to students’ education. Moore also argued that these experiential learning opportunities, whether they were service-learning, research, or internship-based, better-prepared students for “later careers and civic engagements, even if those things have nothing to do with anthropological concepts” (2001: 20). This latter point introduces the force behind this article for which I continue Moore’s call for undergraduate students in anthropology to have “real world” experience in a historical moment where the usefulness of anthropology as a discipline is being questioned and where our value is increasingly being measured against the bottom line.


Having been on the job market for just over a year and half and called for interviews at both colleges and universities, I was pleasantly surprised at the number of faculties that could boast about their robust experiential learning initiatives. This is in contrast to Moore’s findings just over 10 years ago where he saw anthropological approaches to experiential learning to be idiosyncratic and inchoate and called for a community of practice among anthropologists (2001: 20). Service learning and experiential education opportunities for social science and humanities students have indeed become more institutionalized; for example, surveying a few universities located in southwestern Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University has the Laurier Centre for Community Service—learning where students can choose from placement—or project-based service learning, or pick up a co-curricular service option on their weekends or reading week; the University of Guelph has an Institute for Community Engaged Scholarship where undergraduates from across campus have the opportunity to conduct research with community partners under the guidance of senior graduate students and faculty; and McMaster University’s Experiential Education services include opportunities for internships, and both career and academic placements. Notably, these examples are, in some cases, tailored towards social science and humanities students. While I still do not see movement toward a community of practice for experiential learning among anthropologists, interested faculty can join with other like-minded instructors to use the resources of these offices, which provide guidance for both faculty and students alike.


In my experience, anthropology students tend to forego experiential education outside of academic research due to the opportunities that exist for students within the university. For example, students majoring in archaeology often have the opportunity to conduct lab-based research measuring artifacts, while sociocultural students may be asked to assist in the facilitation or transcription of interviews. While such opportunities provide a deeper level of understanding of theories and practices within academia, I argue that they fail undergraduates in two very important ways: (1) There is a failure of academics to close the circle on such learning by teaching their students how to talk-about the skills they have gained in a manner that would engage employers; and (2) Community-based or service-learning opportunities, that is, those opportunities located outside the classroom or laboratory, provide a skillset that may be arguably more identifiable to non-academic employers.


My first point is a call to individual anthropologists working with undergraduates to ensure the professional development of all members of their research team through, for example, sharing successful resumes and cover letters or, allowing undergraduate interns to sit in job talks or mock interviews set up by the department. As for my second point, it was not until my postdoctoral research that I understood the different skills that came with community-based research. I first learned how to successfully lead a meeting and negotiate varying agendas when we developed our research goals and methodologies in tandem with members of the community and our funding partners. When collecting data in the community, I learned how best to handle the stress of deadlines (without the option for an extension) and the importance of managing the expectations of my colleagues in order to keep on-track with my project goals. I came to realize that clear communication was a skill that one needs to develop and which is dependent on context. Researcher accountability took on a new meaning as community investment meant that my stakeholders had in fact paid for my services, the outcomes of which affected next year’s budget. When thinking about knowledge transfer and exchange, I found myself writing numerous summaries of my findings for various audiences and presenting at council meetings and community nights. Through these experiences, I found the community to be a very complex entity with varying agendas and one which I could use to answer challenging questions during an interview and which showed my breadth of experience beyond my academic pursuits.


I am not arguing that experiential opportunities in academic or research-based learning are not useful; however, we need to ensure that students receive the proper mentorship in order to be able to translate those skills learned in academic projects into workplace skills. Secondly, if instructors and anthropology departments are willing to invest more effort into providing community-based experiences for undergraduates, students will be able to sit in an interview and convey their skills to a future manager, such as their experience organizing a community event, developing a volunteer schedule, or working with provincial or national policy—all of which demonstrate a set of experiences and skills that might set them apart from the next candidate. With both Canadian and US economies struggling to give recent graduates opportunities for gainful employment, giving anthropology and other social science and humanities students the ability to talk about their transferable skillset and seeking out opportunities for them to engage in service-learning and community-based internships should become a mandatory part of our undergraduate education.


Jennifer Long is a postdoctoral fellow at the Centre for Research on Migration and Ethnic Relations at The University of Western Ontario, London, Canada. Her research examines settlement and integration programming in the Canadian and Dutch context.


Melissa Fellin (U Western Ontario) is the contributing editor for CAE AN column. Suggestions and contributions can be sent to mm.stachel@gmail.com.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/17/anthropologys-response-to-finding-jobs-for-its-undergraduates/

Friday 14 June 2013

An Education in Human Rights in the West Bank

Human rights classes don’t end abuses, political change does.


Across the West Bank, hundreds of Palestinian security officers have been receiving “human rights education.” As I describe in my book, The Rise and Fall of Human Rights, these classes are one of the ways that western governments are trying to turn the Palestinian Authority into a state deserving of the name. In courses funded by the European Union and state development agencies, and delivered by local NGOs, Palestinian employees of the various security forces are told all about the Palestinian Basic Law, their constitution. They are told why torture is bad and illegal, and how many haircuts and blankets every prisoner should be provided. They are given copies of the Geneva Conventions, and encouraged to discuss the death penalty and understand why it is not a just form of punishment. As much as a third of Palestinian human rights NGO budgets go to teaching Palestinians to respect human rights. And thus the culture of human rights is spread to Palestinians living under Israeli occupation.


Meanwhile, Palestinians continue to live under a belligerent military occupation that is fundamentally a violation of their human rights, collectively and individually.


Why is there so much focus on teaching Palestinians about human rights when Israel is the primary violator?


The Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly on 14 December 1960. It affirms that the “subjection of peoples to alien subjugation, domination and exploitation constitutes a denial of fundamental human rights.” It goes on to say that this “is an impediment to the promotion of world peace and co-operation.”


Generations of people are growing up under a military occupation that has continued and expanded unabated for decades. And every day Israel’s occupation destroys people’s lives, often in small and creeping ways. Through restricting the movement of people and goods, for example, “stocks of essential supplies, including basic foodstuffs and cooking gas” are denied to people in the Gaza Strip, as the UN humanitarian monitoring organization OCHA has reported. These undramatic forms of oppression eat away at thousands of people’s lives, ensuring that daily existence is a relentless struggle.


And sometimes Israel’s occupation destroys people’s lives in catastrophically debilitating ways.


Two days ago, my friend, a Palestinian lawyer who works at a human rights NGO in Bethlehem, had to visit his son in a military base prison called Ofer. In order to be able to continue to visit his son and represent him in front of the Israeli occupation courts, he had to act as a lawyer, not as a father.


No hugs, no kisses. Hand shaking was the most he was allowed. He wrote: “As a lawyer, I had to deal with all my son’s jailers: the judges, the guards, the military prosecutor, translators…etc. In the midst of this, I had to exchange with them morning greetings, smiles, chatting…”


His son had been in prison for four days before his father– his lawyer– was allowed to see him. This was several days after he was dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night by Israeli soldiers who had invaded the refugee camp where he has lived all of his nineteen years. Twenty of these armed gunmen broke into their house and forcibly took the eldest son, clothed only in shorts and slippers. (Another twenty soldiers apprehended another young man in the camp that same night.) It was only because his father ran after them and threw clothes onto his handcuffed son that the young man had any protection. But it was no protection, really. He was an unarmed young man, small and wiry, handcuffed and shoved by several armed, helmeted, foreign men who, all of a sudden, were in complete control. Pushed into a jeep, transported to a prison, probably insulted and threatened on the way—all part of an intentional regime designed to break Palestinian political prisoners’ spirits. All well-documented by human rights organizations like the Israeli NGO B’Tselem.


The young man is in prison because some other Palestinian under similar duress told an Israeli agent that he threw a rock at a soldier. A rock from an arm at an armed man.


Or it may be that the informer told the Israeli agent that my friend’s son took part in making a 40cm hole in the Separation Wall. The barrier that mostly runs through the West Bank itself, not along the de facto border with Israel, the Green Line. A hole the size of a couple of basketballs in a wall that is 709–kilometers long, six to eight meters high, and contrary to international law.


The United Nations General Assembly Resolution 3236 (adopted in 1974) recognized the Palestinian people’s right to self determination. It also recognized “the right of the Palestinian people to regain its rights by all means in accordance with the purposes and principles of the Charter of the United Nations.”


One of the purposes of the United Nations is “to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace, and for the suppression of acts of aggression or other breaches of the peace.”


A military occupation is a breach of the peace. By all means, the international community has asserted, resist that breach, attempt to remove that threat.


There is no explicit prohibition that makes armed struggle for self-determination illegal.


Twenty-four years ago, my friend the lawyer-father, had been captured and imprisoned in the same military base where his son is now shackled, his legs in chains, his hands in cuffs. He was twenty years old, compelled with the audacity to resist that breach to the peace that is the Israeli occupation.


He wrote about seeing his son in chains: “Tens of images came to my mind: faces of those special guards who hit, tortured, and humiliated me when I was a prisoner years ago. Suddenly, only one thought occupied me: my son is facing the same treatment I had received from the guard who was chatting with me, standing there before me.”


What he didn’t write about, because his wife couldn’t bare it if she knew, is that his son was also hit hard, tortured. When they met at the court his T-shirt was torn. He told his father what happened, and my friend could see the signs of abuse on his son. Tortured because he refused to sign the confession that the Israeli interrogators presented him.


There is no credible evidence that my friend’s son has engaged in armed struggle for his nation’s liberation. But there is plenty of evidence that the Israeli occupation forces have been committing human rights violations for decades. A glance at the records of the UN Special Committee to Investigate Israeli Practices Affecting the Human Rights of the Palestinian People and Other Arabs of the Occupied Territories proves this. For decades this Committee has documented Israel’s “mass imprisonment of Palestinians, the routine demolition of homes and resultant displacement of Palestinians, the widespread violence by Israeli settlers against Palestinians, the lack of effort by Israel to prevent or hold settlers accountable for such violence.” This UN committee is one of scores of organizations with reams of evidence proving Israel’s systematic brutality, its unabated violation of the occupied population’s rights.


Among sons and fathers, mothers and daughters, oppression and violence and the arbitrary acts of a nearly all-powerful belligerent military occupation are experienced every single day. Year after year, generations of Palestinians are subjected to alien subjugation, domination, and exploitation. And year after year, their unwillingness to accept Israel’s acts of aggression is expressed by all means.


In contrast to the millions of dollars that have gone in to making Palestinians rights-respecting subjects, only one NGO provides structured, ongoing educational programs on international humanitarian law and human rights law in Israel. The Red Cross gives the occasional presentation to the Israeli army units operating in the West Bank.


But more human rights classes for Israeli soldiers will not end the violations. Just as more human rights classes will never turn the Palestinian Authority into a state. And none of it will stop Palestinians from resisting the occupation by all means.


If democracy, human rights and the rule of law, and the prevention of human rights violations were really the core values of the Council of Europe, the EU, the United States, they would stop throwing money into pointless human rights classes and just stop the occupation. For it is the occupation that “constitutes a denial of fundamental human rights, is contrary to the Charter of the United Nations and is an impediment to the promotion of world peace.” It is the Israeli occupation that thwarts “a culture of human rights.” It is the occupation that must end.


After they shook hands, my friend’s son asked his father, “How is my mom?” My friend could not tell him that she was missing him horribly, that she was crying non-stop and had not eaten for four days. Instead he told his son that she wants him to be strong, to come back home soon.


He said: I will.


Jessica Winegar is editor of Human Rights Forum, the AN column of the AAA Committee for Human Rights. She may be contacted at j-winegar@northwestern.edu.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/14/an-education-in-human-rights-in-the-west-bank/

Kaya-Pop

The Brave New World of Indigenous Music in Brazil


Kayapó pop star Bepdjyre. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Kayapó pop star Bepdjyre. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó



The lead singer crooning catchy pop lyrics, the gyrating chorus-line of girls in mini-skirts, the ecstatic crowd of teenagers swaying and snapping photos with their cell phones, the infectious beats pumping out of an electronic keyboard—it would all be a typical Friday night forró dance party in the Brazilian Amazon if it weren’t for one essential detail: practically all the participants, from the singer to the scanitly clad dancers to the raucous audience armed with digital cameras and cell phones—everyone except the keyboard player, in fact—are Kayapó Indians living in a vast expanse of protected forest lands in southern Pará.


This past April19, the Kayapó village of Turedjam hosted an elaborate festival to celebrate Brazil’s National Indian Day. Some 800 people from 15 villages as well as special guests from neighboring Brazilian towns attended the two-day event that included traditional dance presentations, an inter-village sports competition, the 2013 Miss Kayapó and Mister Kayapó beauty contests, and the high point of the evening, a concert by Kayapó pop star Bepdjyre.


Bepdjyre, who comes from the village of Kabaú, composes his own lyrics in Kayapó but sets them to popular Brazilian dance rhythms such as forró, brega and sertaneja. He records his CDs in the city of Novo Progresso in southern Pará near the Mato Grosso border, and his music circulates virally through Kayapó villages and Brazilian towns on CDs, cell phones, pen drives, SD cards and portable MP3 players. One of his most popular songs, played constantly in Turedjam on various devices in the weeks following the concert, is “Waiter bring me another soda” (Pidjo kangô nhoro ondjwy amry ja on dja), borrowing a common refrain from Brazilian drinking songs but adapting it to the Kayapó′s teetotaling prohibition of alcoholic beverages in many villages.


Bepdjyre onstage with a chorus-line of Kayapó girls. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Bepdjyre onstage with a chorus-line of Kayapó girls. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó



Five girls from Turedjam practiced for several weeks before the show to master the hip-swaying choreography, and they danced in perfect synchrony onstage. They wore matching white mini-skirts bought especially for the show, but underneath the skirts they had on traditional Kayapó ornaments and body paint, adding bright red lipstick to the typical geometric designs in black Genipa and red annatto on their faces.


Appearing with Bepdjyre was Mokuká, a 50-year old Kayapó chief from Moikorakô village who, unlike Bepdjyre—in his tight-fitting jeans, white tennis shoes and rhinestone-studded “Tribe” T-shirt—appeared onstage in traditional Kayapó body paint, bead ornaments and feather headdress. And yet Mokuká swayed and dipped onstage as well as any Brazilian teenager. He sang an extended, encore performance of his contagious Portuguese-language composition, “Tem, tem, tem mulher bonita” (‘There are lots of pretty women’). A crowd of teenage boys in the audience sang along with the refrain, “In the village too, in the city too, in the world too: There are lots pretty women!” and pointed out their favorite girls in the crowd or on the stage.


Alongside Mokuká, a high school student from the remote village of Kuben-Kan-Kren showed off highly erotic, hip-thrusting dance moves wearing ultra-tight, ultra-short-shorts: the Kayapó incarnation of Brazilian dance goddess Carla Peres. As men, both young and old repeated to me, in awe over her performance, “She’s the only Kayapó girl who can dance like that. She practiced for months in front of the DVD player.”


Teenage fans sing along and snap photos with their phones and cameras. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Teenage fans sing along and snap photos with their phones and cameras. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó



The Kayapó cameramen and film makers I have trained over the past three years captured the concert on film and immediately edited a DVD which they distributed in the village and throughout Kayapó territory. On my recent visit to Turedjam, this DVD, as well as MP3 knock-offs of the live audio, were playing constantly. Kayapó men and boys alike are especially enamored of Mokuká’s song, “There are lots of pretty women,” and the suggestive choreography of the girl from Kuben-Kan-Kren.


There is a distinctively masculine gaze in productions by the current all-male cadre of Kayapó film makers: even in traditional ceremonies, women strip down to their underwear for the duration of the dancing, while men wear the same shorts they use in daily life. As the inherent machismo of Kayapó culture blends with the sexism implicit in erotic lyrics and choreographies from Brazilian pop music, I get the impression that Kayapó men and teenage boys don’t just watch home-grown films like “Miss Kayapó” and the Bepdjyre concert documentary: they ogle.


At first glance, this indigenous aping of Brazilian pop music genres and sexually charged dance styles seems shocking, disorienting, even degrading: an affront to traditional Kayapó aesthetic values. And yet a closer examination of Kayapó culture reveals the fundamental role of appropriation and re-invention in their relationship with outsiders. Prior to sustained contact with Brazilian society, the Kayapó raided neighboring groups and among themselves, and placed a high value on capturing ornaments, weapons, names, songs and other material or immaterial goods from the enemy, incorporating them into their own cultural repertoire and displaying them as signs of personal and group prestige (V Lea, Riquezas Intangíveis de Pessoas Partíveis, 2012)


Mokuká sings "Tem mulher bonita." Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

Mokuká sings “Tem mulher bonita.” Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó



Even after inter-group raiding ceased, the Kayapó continue to value the capture and appropriation of trappings and technologies of the kuben—Brazilian white society—such as firearms, trade goods, territorial maps and video cameras (P. de Robert 2004, Terre coupée: Recompositions des territorialités indigènes dans une reserve d’Amazonie. Ethnologie Française 34[1]: 79-88). The Kayapó made especially powerful use of video cameras in the late 1980s to mobilize an international protest movement, blocking international funding for the Belo Monte dam project and paralyzing it until just a few years ago (T Turner 1990, The Kayapó Video Project. Revue de la Commission d’Anthropologie Visuelle).


With funding from the National Science Foundation and approval from Brazil’s National Research Council (CNPq), Middle Tennessee State University anthropologist Richard Pace and I are currently studying how the Kayapó use video cameras and other digital media in their increasingly complex interactions with Brazilian and global society.


According to Kayapó film maker Tatajyre, having young, sparsely clad Kayapó women strut and dance like Brazilian models or pop stars does not degrade traditional beauty standards: “We are showing Kayapó beauty to the Brazilians.”


Rather than seeing culture as a stark choice between opposing, exclusive categories such as “Kayapó″ and “Brazilian” or “traditional” and “modern,” the Kayapó today, as always, see culture as an additive process, continually appropriating, incorporating and re-signifying new ornaments, weapons, goods and knowledge from enemies or rivals as a way of highlighting their own strength and perseverance. Does any of this make the Kayapó less “authentic” or “indigenous” or “Kayapó″? Of course not. On the contrary.


The Kayapó incarnation of Brazilian dance goddess Carla Peres. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó

The Kayapó incarnation of Brazilian dance goddess Carla Peres. Video still courtesy Tatajyre Kayapó



With local village girls dressed in both mini-skirts and traditional body paint, showing off trendy dance steps alongside a native-language pop singer like Bepjdyre, the Kayapó get to have it both ways: they get to be beautiful as Indians and as Brazilians. As Mokuká’s sings: “In the village too, in the city too, in the world too: There are lots of pretty women.”


As I was packing my bags to leave Turedjam, I heard the distant strains of a hauntingly familiar tune: No, my ears were playing tricks on me, it couldn’t be. So I followed the sound towards a thatched hut where I found a group of teenage boys listening to a portable MP3 device playing an electronic tecno-brega Kayapó-language cover of, yes: “Hey Jude.”


A brave new world indeed.


Glenn H Shepard Jr is a staff researcher in ethnology at the Goeldi Museum in Belém do Pará, Brazil and blogs about his work at Notes from the Ethnoground.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/14/kaya-pop/

Thursday 13 June 2013

How diving mammals evolved underwater endurance

Scientists have shed new light on how diving mammals, such as the sperm whale, have evolved to survive for long periods underwater without breathing.



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Medieval leprosy genomes shed light on disease's history

Scientists have reconstructed a dozen medieval and modern leprosy genomes -- suggesting a European origin for the North American leprosy strains found in armadillos and humans, and a common ancestor of all leprosy bacteria within the last 4000 years.



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Wednesday 12 June 2013

Richard Brown II

Richard Brown II

Richard Brown II



Richard “Rick” Brown II, 43, a post-doctoral fellow in the Institute for Circumpolar Health Studies at the University of Alaska-Anchorage, passed away on March 3, 2013, after suffering a massive stroke.


Rick received his MA (2007) and PhD (2011) from the University of Alabama in biocultural medical anthropology. He began his education at the Columbus College of Art & Design in Columbus, OH. After a short time he left school and embarked on a series of jobs, including manager of a rent-to-own furniture store and bouncer in a nightclub. In the early days of the internet he built a very successful web-hosting business and also had a business printing custom t-shirts. But Rick’s intellectual interests were too broad and insistent to remain in these pursuits. He tripled major in anthropology, philosophy and psychology at Indiana University-Purdue University. Because of his enduring interests in cognitive science and the influence of culture on biology, he went to Alabama for his PhD.


For his dissertation research under Bill Dressler, Rick did fieldwork in Guadalajara, Mexico, working with Javier Eduardo de Alba Garcia in a social science and epidemiology research unit. Rick was interested in how a patient’s cultural consonance with a shared cultural model of the treatment and management of diabetes might influence blood sugar and subjective well-being during treatment. He successfully defended his dissertation in 2011 and presented his work at various anthropology conferences.


Rick joined the Institute for Circumpolar Health Studies at the University of Alaska in 2011 and, at the time of his death, had applied to become director of the Center for Alcohol and Addiction Studies. He had become an integral part of the Institute, successfully competing for several large research contracts with the state and managing a number of ongoing projects examining Alaskan Native health. His work included evaluating Housing First programs for the state (harm reduction intervention for chronically homeless persons with alcohol dependence and mental illness) and sexual health interventions among Alaska Natives including HIV prevention in relation to alcohol consumption. He was just starting a project evaluating a local greenhouse that would employ developmentally disabled at-risk youth as part of a combined vocational training andsocial engagement intervention.


Rick is survived by his wife Justina Chapala Brown (Justy), son Jackson (Jake) and daughter Isabella (Bella); his parents, Richard and Lillian Brown, and his brothers, Steve Schilling and Jay Brown. Rick will be remembered as a valued student, friend and colleague. He was taken from us and from our profession at a tragically young age. Still, we can feel a measure of solace in the fact that Rick overcame many obstacles in his life and was able to achieve his life goals: to receive a PhD and successfully embark on a career in the field that he loved. He is deeply missed by many.


Contributions can be made to a fund set up by the University of Alaska to support his children’s college education at www.gofundme.com/282o94. (Kathryn Oths and William Dresser)






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/12/richard-brown-ii/

Tuesday 11 June 2013

The Anthropologist as Reader

Walk of Ideas, Berlin. Photo courtesy of Scholz & Friends Sensai, wikicommons

Walk of Ideas, Berlin. Photo courtesy of Scholz & Friends Sensai, wikicommons



A quarter century ago, Clifford Geertz published Works and Lives: The Anthropologist as Author. Widely seen as part of the larger “linguistic turn” in cultural anthropology of that era, in fact it is better viewed as part of a sustained argument made by Geertz since the early 1960s in favor of a literary, humanistic anthropology. It was clear from his writings of that period that he considered medium and message to constitute a unified field. For instance, in his masterly critique of Claude Lévi-Strauss’s Tristes Tropiques , Geertz ridiculed Lévi-Strauss’s literary conceits as much or more than he did the theoretical models employed. The fact that Lévi-Strauss saw himself writing in a continuous literary tradition going back to Julie ou la Nouvelle Héloïse was for the cool, ironical Geertz, laughable and sufficient evidence to indict the entire structuralist project. Geertz’s later critiques in Works and Lives, of authors he admired more, follow the same pattern. The aesthetic, theoretical, and ethical are inexorably linked.


I do not believe that the linkage is as tight as Geertz imagined, but is perhaps more like his own model of culture: an octopus, which he sees as more loosely put together (a belief I do not think would pass muster from a marine biologist). However, an aesthetic appreciation of anthropology is, I think, necessary. I once thought that the theoretical orientation one was drawn to was philosophical in nature; I believe now that it is mainly aesthetic.


Like Geertz, I was an English major as an undergraduate, who merely dabbled in the social sciences. Sociology held little attraction for me; apart from a few classics like Tally’s Corner , the literature was a wasteland. History had its great writers, but they (Tuchman, the Durants, Spengler) were generally disdained by the profession. Only in anthropology did I find great writers among the first tier. In an era when books circulated much like retweets and Facebook posts do today, I was exposed to a number of anthropological texts that, without hyperbole, changed my life. I consumed these books alongside my other leisure reading (the Flashman series, Trout Fishing in America, Tom Wolfe—the strange, eclectic world of late 70’s paperbacks).


The most obvious anthropological writer to appeal to an English major with pretentions of a career as a poet (yes, a guffaw is warranted) was Ruth Benedict. Patterns of Culture is what we might call the strong versionof an argument that cultures are organized around aesthetic principles. A poet herself, she borrowed from Nietzsche and gestalt theory, seeking to find what Gregory Bateson would later call the “ethos” of a culture. Much criticized, especially in the postmodern era for simplifying and essentializing these cultures, and for basing her writing (including her masterly The Chrysanthemum and the Sword ) on secondary sources, she nevertheless demonstrates the power of what Lévi-Strauss called “the view from afar.”


Gregory Bateson’s Steps to an Ecology of Mind really was something of a cult classic in the 1970s. In his later years, he was a guru to students (and non-enrolled young people) at UC-Santa Cruz, where his lectures attracted hundreds. Coming from a hard science background, we think of him less as a literary figure. But indeed his approach shared much with Benedict’s. He described his methodology as “abduction,” neither induction nor deduction, but a means of discovering patterns in culture. Like Benedict, he may be accused of reducing the complexity of culture to formal patterns, but these patterns could in fact be highly complex, fractal-like, and beautiful.


Mary Douglas presented an aesthetic version of culture based upon a reading of structuralism as a form of dualism (itself a creative misreading of Lévi-Strauss). Purity and Danger contains a number of memorable arguments, such as “dirt is matter out of place,” which, along with Bateson’s concept of the double bind, afforded great insight into bourgeois American culture of the 1970s. Bateson talks about the American concept of the “living room” as a paradox: rather than a place where life was lived, it was where the separation of categories was most strongly enforced. Douglas’s controversial interpretation of the Abominations of Leviticus was based on a concept of categorical purity. Although this may lose much of the nuance of cultural taboos (which Douglas acknowledged much later), as with Benedict and Bateson, it is difficult to dismiss the underlying logic.


Marshall Sahlins’s Culture and Practical Reason was bound to stir up discussion in a 1970s dormitory in Chapel Hill. Written in a satiric style reminiscent of Geertz’s (many of his students call him the second funniest Sahlins brother, which seems fair). He argues for Western economic rationalism as a specific cultural system. Both a critique of consumer capitalism and an autoethnograhy of bourgeois culture (with a comparative dimension involving France and the U.S.), it again strives to find the pattern underlying the surface complexity. When I discovered that Sahlins taught at the University of Chicago, I naively sent in my application for graduate school. Such is the power of books read as an adolescent.


Part of the attraction of all of these books is the promise of finding the underlying truth undergirding surface complexity. Frankly, this is not much different from the motivation for reading books about the Illuminati, which purport to explain all of modern Western history according to a few basic principles. The great difference lies not only in the truth conditions of propositions contained in the two vastly different types of writing (even the most po-mo anthropologist respects facts, however contextualized), but in the aesthetic stance. Why is Dan Brown such a terrible writer when all of these anthropologists are truly great ones? Perhaps it is a commitment to the patterns that present themselves within culture, patterns shaped over generations to a fineness like that of a Clovis point.


I cannot finish an essay on anthropological writers without mentioning the greatest work of anthropological literature, Tristes Tropiques. Although a memoir rather than a true ethnography, and representing a specifically Gallic sensibility, and containing numerous annoying tics and outdated prejudices, it is the apotheosis of an aesthetic understanding of cultures. As Boris Wiseman argued, to understand Lévi-Strauss, one needs to understand his aesthetic commitments and sensibilities. This is an argument that could be expanded to include all of these anthropological writers and many more as well, I hope including me.


Michael E Harkin is a cultural anthropologist and ethnohistorian at the University of Wyoming. He is editor of the journal Reviews in Anthropology and co-editor of Ethnohistory.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/11/the-anthropologist-as-reader/

Pastoralism’s Crisis in East Africa

Shots depicting the Lower Valley of the Omo River, UNESCO World Heritage Site, and inhabitants of Southern Ethiopia. Photo courtesy of AnnaMaria Donnoli

Lower Valley of the Omo River, UNESCO World Heritage Site, and inhabitants of Southern Ethiopia. Photo courtesy AnnaMaria Donnoli, Wikicommons.



Anthropology has a long history in East Africa. Well-known works by Dyson-Hudson and Evans-Pritchard have introduced generations of undergraduate students to the richness of pastoralist cultures and the complexity of generation and age-sets. Popular accounts of similar groups have riveted the public imagination and featured prominently in well-known films and novels such as Out of Africa and West with the Night. But the 21st century reality is decidedly less cinematic for those pastoralists living along a huge swath of land on either side of the Kenyan, Ethiopian, Ugandan and South Sudanese borders.


Pastoralist life here today is perhaps best characterized by immense transitions and challenges that threaten its future. Foreign investment in infrastructure, markets, and large-scale agricultural projects are driving rapid, pronounced change. Dams threaten to end seasonal floods on which pastoralists depend for small-scale planting. Rangeland is being consumed by agricultural projects totaling hundreds of thousands of hectares, leaving local populations with few alternatives for subsistence. The commercialization of livestock trade is escalating violent intergroup conflict, resulting in myriad downstream effects such as habitat loss and the erosion of cultural traditions.


Anthropology is situated at the nexus of these issues. Much of our knowledge about external pressures and their effects on local populations are the result of detailed ethnographic and cultural studies. We are in a unique position: our research can tell us how these changes may affect local communities. Will they be deleterious, such as by reducing their self-sufficiency or weakening traditional structures? Or beneficial, by creating much-needed sources of income, or providing health and educational opportunities? The challenge anthropologists face is how to best convey the practical findings of our research to a broader community.


These changes began in the 1970s when automatic weapons flooded the region. Communities initially responded to the abundance of AK-47s with local arms races, contributing to a dramatic increase in violent conflict. Anthropologists David Turton and Serge Tornay estimate that when automatic weapons first appeared in the Lower Omo Valley of Ethiopia, between 5 and 10% of the Mursi and Nyangatom peoples were killed in raids. Contemporary research among the Turkana of northern Kenya show that even today up to 60% of male deaths during reproductively active years are caused by violent conflict.


These are staggering numbers, but beyond immediate deaths there are numerous unforeseen downstream effects that can be equally harmful. Careful scholarship by Terrance McCabe on livestock subsistence among Turkana pastoralists showed that many decisions such as herd division and migration patterns are affected by the possibility of conflict. This frequently results in large underused border zones anywhere from 15–50 km deep that are an all-too-common feature throughout the region.


These unused buffer areas often contain valuable rangeland. This results in decreased availability of nutritional resources and may have pronounced consequences for mothers and children including reduced immune functioning, increased parasite load, and malnutrition. Scholarship by University of Kansas anthropologist Sandra Gray and colleagues showed that in northwest Uganda, Karimojong children had reduced anthropometric indices (height and weight) when compared to the same population two decades prior. Startlingly they found that by age five Karimojong children had measurements comparable to other groups. This equality is likely not due to differential growth patterns but rather results from an increased death rate among smaller children. Among the Karimojong nearly a quarter of children die before age five, and 10% of deaths above age five are due directly to famine exacerbated by conflict.


Changes brought by the introduction of the automatic rifle have also affected basic social structures. Michael Bollig’s long-term fieldwork among the Pokot shows that firearms have created a situation that encourages cattle raiding. Individuals feel compelled to obtain firearms because their neighbors may have them. However, rifles are frequently extremely expensive, costing up to 60 cattle for a single weapon. This expense reduces the livestock available for a family to use for bridewealth. As a result young men are faced with a decision to delay marriage or to engage in cattle-raiding as a means to overcome their lack of cattle for bridewealth.


Through a series of thoughtful publications, Dutch anthropologist Jon Abbink has documented the slow fragmentation of traditional institutions among the Suri of southwest Ethiopia. These changes typify the challenges faced by many East African pastoralist societies. The glut of guns has increased the internal tensions present in any society, most significantly between elders who may want to restrain the impulses of youth striving for notoriety and status through violent conflict. This has resulted in the deterioration of social traditions in a number of domains. Exchange relations through the establishment of bond friendships with individuals from other groups has all but ceased due to conflict. Conflict resolution mechanisms are also eroding. A few years ago, traditional compensation for killing members of differing descent-groups required the payment of livestock. Now blood revenge is more frequently sought, leading to escalating feuds. The power of traditional ritual leaders is waning along with many other elements of ritual life. This is partly because of intra-group feuds and the rising independence of youth armed with guns, leading some anthropologists to argue that the future of pastoralism is in danger.


Against this backdrop a new series of challenges is emerging due to globalizing forces. Significant investment in infrastructure is providing much needed access to economic engagement as well as educational and health opportunities. This change, however, also threatens to bring potentially destabilizing forces. The increased prevalence of markets creates conditions for the commercialization of livestock theft. Stolen cattle are not only used for bridewealth but sold to traders and quickly shipped to urban centers giving rise to what some scholars call “Traiders.”


The investment in infrastructure is also facilitating rapid commercial development of pastoralist lands. In the South Omo Valley of Ethiopia over 300,000 hectares are slated for agricultural development, much of it on precious grazing lands in Omo National Park. It is not clear how pastoralists such as the Nyangatom, Mursi, and Bodi who rely on these areas will meet their basic subsistence needs. Their displacement threatens to escalate violent intergroup conflict as they search out new pasture likely to be already inhabited. Perhaps to prevent this the government is instituting widespread resettlement or “villagization,” which will eliminate their livelihoods by denying them access to the mobility cattle production requires and forcing them to live in permanent state-supported settlements. While local governments and their donor agencies claim this will improve pastoralist conditions, a significant amount of anthropological work such as that done by Elliot Fratkin and colleagues has shown that settlement of nomadic populations usually leads to negative health outcomes. This is especially acute for children, likely due to decreased diet breadth through the loss of access to cattle products such as milk.


Less saliently, local traditions and values are also under external assault, further marginalizing traditional communities. Discussion of “harmful traditional practices” is rife among state and NGO actors. While NGOs such as Save the Children may increase access to health care and education and work to end harmful practices, in some instances their outreach advances a state agenda that threatens to erode important cultural traditions. These can include seemingly innocuous traditions such as ritual scarification, marriage rites, and simple ornamentation including traditional beadwork.


North of the Omo Valley, the Gibe 3 Dam nears completion, threatening to end the seasonal floods of the Omo River and the food production cycles on which a quarter of a million agro-pastoralists depend. At the Omo’s mouth, the Turkana warily wonder if this presages the desiccation of Lake Turkana on whose waters they and the Dassanech depend for their livelihoods. Anthropologists such as Richard Leakey have been vocal about the impending crisis, but yet foreign-funded construction continues.


Where my own research occurs in southwest Ethiopia, agricultural projects are planned on important reserve grasslands. This will not only reduce the survivability of pastoralists here but also block traditional migration routes, effectively ending transhumance in this region. From the perspective of policy makers in Addis Ababa who may be under-informed about pastoralist land use, the entire area may appear uninhabited or underused when in fact certain areas are crucial. Nearby there are large unused border areas and buffer zones providing alternative locations for agricultural development.


Pastoralism in much of East Africa is in crisis. Development projects plunge ahead while basic subsistence needs are barely met and violent conflict is common. Policy makers justify plans by stating that the consequences of changes are unknown or will only bring benefits. However, decades of anthropological studies give us a good idea of what the future holds and can answer crucial questions. How will local populations respond to changes? Will the loss of grazing land for agricultural projects create famine, or can development target non-crucial areas and thus coexist with pastoralist populations? Will resettlement increase access to health care and nutritional resources, or result in overcrowded villages where people have no means to provide for themselves? How can economic opportunities be increased without introducing destabilizing or harmful pressures?


Anthropologists are uniquely situated to anticipate how modernization and development may affect populations. But often there is a disconnect between academic discourse and policy decisions. There are no easy fixes, but if anthropologists are to have a role in informing these decisions, we should seek out forums in which our work can be applied and shared among a broader community.


Luke Glowacki is a PhD candidate in human evolutionary biology at Harvard University. His research combines the quantitative methods of evolutionary anthropology with ethnographic and cultural studies. His fieldwork is primarily with nomadic pastoralists in the South Omo Valley of Ethiopia focusing on conflict, cooperation and demographic transitions.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/11/pastoralisms-crisis-in-east-africa/

The Order of Crisis

Crisis as a Political Tool in Cyprus


Contextualizing the Politics of Crisis


Paralimni Collage. Photo courtesy of Berkaysnklf (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Paralimni Collage. Photo courtesy Berkaysnklf Wikimedia Commons



Even though the Cyprus financial crisis exploded onto global newsfeeds during the last two weeks of March, problems in the Cypriot economy had been the fodder of daily local media discussions since the summer of 2011. Viewed alongside problems recognized as systemic to Cypriot public and financial governance, these discussions suggest that the crisis should have been expected. Indeed, most social science studies of the global financial crisis emerging at the moment seek to explain such systemic factors that should have been recognized prior to 2008. If the term crisis is taken as a misnomer, what does the employment of the concept enable in the sphere of governance and public action? What are the means through which crisis becomes a political tool?

The discussions of crisis in Cyprus had in large part been sparked by the 2011 accidental explosion of a large munitions’ pile, confiscated from a Russian vessel travelling from Iran to Syria in 2009 and temporarily placed in a naval base next to the main electricity power plant while negotiations between the Cypriot government, the UN, the US and other global players were on-going. The explosion claimed the lives of 13 soldiers and fire-fighters and destroyed the greater part of the electricity facility. With the cost of the explosion estimated at around 2bn (prices throughout in Euro), the economy (of a magnitude around 20bn in GDP) appeared to have been knocked off the Stability and Growth Pact criteria (set by the EU to ensure financial cohesion). In the days that followed the explosion, crowds of protesters converged on the presidential palace and called on the communist president to resign on the double count of responsibility for the explosion and pursuing bad economic policies. The explosion had heralded a crisis discourse more than it did crisis per se by introducing a geopolitical vocabulary of victimization to allocate responsibility to some actors (government, global powers), while allowing others, such as the military, to abdicate it.


In financial terms, the debt to GDP ratio had in fact been hovering on the 60% threshold set by the EU in the previous years too (rising from 8bn in 2008 to 13bn in 2011). In February 2012, the decision of Greece’s lenders to write-off half of its debt, left banks in Cyprus, exposed to about 22bn of Greek private debt, at the brink of default. The government recapitalized one of these banks (Laiki, the second largest bank on the island) in May 2012 in an effort to keep afloat the main driver of the economy. The size of the Cypriot banking sector, estimated at five to eight times that of the island’s GDP, has been approached as a problem by the EU and IMF chiefly because of its reliance in the last decade on Russian offshore investors and a property bubble. In December 2011, the government had secured an emergency 2.5bn loan from Russia, in order to avoid applying for assistance to the European Stability Mechanism, which in its previous forms had bailed out Greece and Portugal. By June 2012, however, the application proved unavoidable. In short, the financial breakdown resulted as much from accidents (Greek “hair-cut,” bursting of the property bubble, explosion) as it was prefigured in recent Cypriot financial history (debt ratio balancing, the property bubble, banking malpractice).


This double source of the crisis (in exogenous and endemic factors) is recognized in the preamble of the document that has since become a staple part of political discussion in Cyprus. The Memorandum of Understanding on Specific Economic Policy Conditionality (“the Memorandum,” mnimónio in Greek) was initially drafted in November 2012 and eventually adopted in April 2013. It has since become a term of identification in daily parlance: “Memorandumean” (mninomiakó) refers to austerity laws and other measures adopted to fulfil Cyprus’ obligations to its lenders (EU, European Central Bank and IMF, collectively known as the Troika), as well as to the political stance of being pro-Memorandum (in contradistinction to those who are anti-mnimoniakí and advocate a variety of alternatives). In such discussions, crisis is unequivocally spoken of in terms of shock: break is emphasized over continuity, surprise over expectation, aberration over order. The significance of this discourse is that it is increasingly framing political conduct within the parameters of emergency, whereby the deterioration of social welfare and rights is considered inevitable and thus naturalized, while ‘the economic condition’ is used to explain away policies and decisions, whose financial benefit is not always obvious.


The discourse of crisis, in short, is being used as a political tool to highlight some aspects of the problem (especially those relating to an outside, variously defined), while obscuring others. This consolidates a sense of injustice against a national self that appears as unified and victimized. The subject of the crisis may thus be pluralized, as shown below, but the moral evaluation of victimhood remains rooted in nationalist premises. In this context, class difference is effaced, racial difference is vilified, and gender difference is de-prioritized.


Subjects of the Crisis


One of the major challenges of the declining economy is widely recognized as being the spiralling unemployment, which officially stood at 14% in March 2013, 3.5 percentage points higher than the previous year and double in size from the 7% figure for 2011. Lowering salaries to allow more people to work at the same cost to companies is now held to be an intuitive expectation in the management of the crisis. The lowering of living standards is presented as inevitable. This then enables corrective policies to be approached from the bottom up rather than top down. Another aspect of this approach is the emphasis on ensuring that jobs go to Cypriots, backed by government incentive schemes giving preference to Cypriots over EU citizen applicants, who should otherwise have enjoyed equal labour rights, but who are instead the target of public stigmatization under the label kinotikí ([European] community workers). Below them, third country nationals from the global south, many of whom having worked irregularly and often under exploitative conditions in previous years are now facing voluntary return or deportation. As the terms of the debate are racialized, the gains to be had from such universal lowering of labour costs become muffled. Under this prism, the crisis in Cyprus, perhaps more than elsewhere, seems to hinge on a disjuncture between the primary targets of intervention policy (‘the rich’, represented in the figure of bank share-holders) and its ultimate trickle-down victims (who are racialized, classed, and, considering the multiple effects of welfare cuts, gendered).


In its final form, the memorandum provides for a severe cut (in the 40-60% range) in deposits above a 100,000 Euro threshold held at the remaining major failing bank in Cyprus, after Laiki was effectively closed down. Some of these depositors were reportedly returning retirees from the diaspora and adherents to a Protestant ethic of work and saving; others were companies, institutions or corporations (including the Orthodox Church, which is known to control vast assets, and provident and pension funds, for which part exemptions were being planned). All of them were projected as the inadvertent victims of a policy devised by the Troika to target Russian depositors. Conspicuously absent in this register are the higher classes (Cypriot, Russian and otherwise) with accounts abroad, who had shifted their capital out of the country upon reading the signs of the failing economy well in time. Despite much public and morally charged condemnation of such actions, and the set-up of investigations to determine wrong-doing through proof of access to privileged information, concrete policies aiming at the repatriation of capital are yet to be discussed.


In the meantime, the repressive apparatus is instead targeting protesters, who are calling for enforced contributions from the biggest capital holders and for cutting back on expenses other than welfare (including, for example, on defence). Anti-austerity demonstrations, Cypriots were informed in February by the government spokesman shortly before he took office, would henceforth be seen as an obstruction to important governmental work and should not take place. So far, from the thousands of jobs being shed in the public sector, the most worrying to the government seem to be those in the police, where civil servants from elsewhere have been enlisted to desk duties to make up for posts vacated due to early retirement (spurred by fear of shrinkage to pension-linked benefits). In May, increased patrols to combat a rise in burglaries were cited as the context in which a robbery at a bakery was thwarted but the suspected thief left with a police bullet through the forehead. While large demonstrations of the magnitude seen in Madrid and Athens are yet to take place in Nicosia, a brutal police raid on the local Occupy movement a year ago (April 2012) remains a reminder of the capability for violence against fringe political movements that might gain strength. It is also a reminder of how far reconciliation discourse vis-à-vis the Cyprus conflict, has shrank since then.


The upper and middle classes then, along with migrants, political activists, and radicalized individuals and groups from across the political and economic spectrum (including bond-holders’ groups, bank employees, humanitarian organisations, and a strengthened extreme right-wing movement), are all subjects of the crisis in different ways. The extraordinariness of the crisis serves to blanket disparate goals, conditions, and aims under a sense of victimization, which, however, is likely in the aftermath to cloud the distinction between those who stand to gain and those who are placed in social positions from which they can only lose.


Olga Demetriou is a social anthropologist based at the Cyprus Centre of the Peace Research Institute, Oslo (PRIO). Her research focuses on marginality and subjectivity in Greece and Cyprus. She has recently published Capricious Borders: Minority, Population and Counter-Conduct between Greece and Turkey with Berghahn.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/11/the-order-of-crisis/

Toxic Talk

Power of Discourse Analysis for Understanding the Impacts of Environmental Crises on Native American Communities


Anatomy of an Environmental Crisis


Walpole Island First Nation or Bkejwanong, which means "where the waters divide" in the Ojibwe language, is located on the north shores of Lake St Clair. The community sits upon one of the largest freshwater deltas in the world and supports a rich mosaic of natural areas including some of the most biologically diverse areas in Canada. It is home to the Anishnaabe people (Potawatomi, Ojibwe and Odawa tribes). Image courtesy Clint Jacobs, Nin Da Waab Jig Walpole Island Heritage Centre

Walpole Island First Nation or Bkejwanong, which means “where the waters divide” in the Ojibwe language, is located on the north shores of Lake St Clair. The community sits upon one of the largest freshwater deltas in the world and supports a rich mosaic of natural areas including some of the most biologically diverse areas in Canada. It is home to the Anishnaabe people (Potawatomi, Ojibwe and Odawa tribes). Image courtesy Clint Jacobs, Nin Da Waab Jig Walpole Island Heritage Centre



On Thursday August 14, 2003 cessation of power to the cooling system of Royal Polymers Industries in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada led to the accidental discharge of 300 pounds of vinyl chloride—a highly toxic and carcinogenic industrial chemical—into the St Clair River. Public fear turned into outrage when it was discovered that neither the Canadian government nor the general public were informed until five days after the chemical spill had occurred. One locality directly affected by the spill was Walpole Island First Nation (WIFN), an ecologically diverse Native American reserve community downstream from Royal Polymers and the petrochemical and refining complex known as Chemical Valley. Walpole Island’s reliance on the St Clair River as its primary source of drinking water made it especially vulnerable to the threat of chemical exposure. My presence in the community at the time of the spill allowed me to witness first-hand the fear, stress and social upheaval that arose from this environmental crisis. The chief aired her frustrations over the lack of communication from the region’s environmental health officer; a new mother expressed her fear that the mysterious skin rash that had suddenly appeared on her infant daughter’s body was the result of exposure to contaminated water; and an elder spoke of cultural genocide: “I guess they couldn’t kill us off in the Indian residential schools and the reserves they made for us so they’re trying to get rid of us by polluting our water, fish and wildlife. In my mind, it’s all the same thing,” she explained to me matter-of-factly.


I also became aware of a series of discourses disseminated by the popular media and the scientific community. The fears vocalized by concerned citizens were being labeled as chemophobia—a term that refers to an “irrational fear of chemicals” and which experts used to dismiss anxieties as uncritical, emotional and subjective responses arising from a general lack of scientific knowledge. This rhetoric was a stark example of the processes by which homogenized and reductionist meta-narratives of risk are funneled through scientific and bureaucratic structures to ascribe their own politically-informed packages of meanings on the perceptions and experiences of those occupying the lower echelons in systems of power (Briggs 2007, 2008). I found the term’s indiscriminate use particularly disconcerting. This compelled me to engage in a critical analysis of the terminology and conceptual frameworks that are used to describe public responses to environmental threats. At issue was whether a term like chemophobia was an accurate cross-cultural descriptor of individual and collective responses to environmental risks and crises. Was there a better way of talking about peoples’ perceptions of risk, one that was more sensitive to the lived experiences of those directly affected by such threats? Was there an alternative way of knowing that fostered a more nuanced, historicized and humanized understanding of the diverse political, social and cultural contexts within which these events unfold?


The Royal Polymers spill was my entry into the study of risk communication and set the stage for close to a decade of intensive collaborative research on environmental health issues in the Walpole Island community. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, my semiotic critique of chemophobia and cursory analysis of the risk narratives revolving around the water crisis of 2003 served as a useful discursive medium for exploring the striking differences between scientific and media contaminants discourses and the “little narratives” or local legitimacies (Lyotard 1979) that are generated within communities. It was becoming clear to me that those who wield the power to name also have the capacity to shape perceptions and by extension, influence human thoughts, behaviors and actions. However, this was more than a theoretical exercise for it allowed me to identify a unique genre of contaminants discourses specific to the Walpole Island community—a discourse that I’ve termed toxic talk (Stephens 2009). The narrative ethnography that eventually became my dissertation is a good example of the important role of discourse analysis as a methodological tool for critically examining the impacts of environmental crises on vulnerable, at-risk populations and its potential for refining the conventional interpretive frameworks and language(s) of risk employed by biomedicine, the social sciences, regulatory agencies and industries.


Deconstructing Chemophobia and Exploring Toxic Talk


Canada's "Chemical Valley" is a large complex of refining and chemical companies located upstream from Walpole Island First Nation, just east of the St Clair River in southern Sarnia, Ontario. Photo courtesy P199 via Wikimedia

Canada’s “Chemical Valley” is a large complex of refining and chemical companies located upstream from Walpole Island First Nation, just east of the St Clair River in southern Sarnia, Ontario. Photo courtesy P199 via Wikimedia



At its most basic level, the term chemophobia is narrow and exclusionary, and serves primarily to describe generic fears associated with human exposure to man-made chemicals. It offers a restrictive and limiting semiotic and interpretive framework for acknowledging and examining other equally destructive dangers to the environment. Walpole Island residents have observed and recorded significant changes to the health of their native plants and animals through several generations. Community members use specific criteria to gauge these changes, such as propagation rates, population numbers, physiological changes in plant and animal species, ecological biodiversity, and specific indicators such as the potency and effectiveness of medicinal plants. Water, air and sediment pollution are seen as contributing to environmental degradation and ecological change at Walpole Island.


However, residents also identify inappropriate land use practices, the erosion of cultural values and loss of traditional teachings that sustain and reinforce the physical and spiritual connection between human beings and the natural world as equally detrimental to the lands and waters of the Walpole Island traditional territory. Similarly, chemophobia permits a very limited range of substances (namely, industrial chemicals) that can be viewed or labelled as toxic or dangerous to one’s health and well-being. This contrasts directly with the views expressed by members of the community who classify alcohol and drugs as environmental toxins. Both industrial contaminants and recreational controlled substances are perceived as foreign intrusions into Native society that are part and parcel of the colonial process. Risk perception research is exclusively anthropocentric in nature. Chemophobia is applied to describing the perceptions, behaviors and experiences of human beings, to the exclusion of all other beings. As such, the term reflects the Western world’s Linnean propensity to pigeon-hole and treat as separate and unrelated human health and the health of other species. The anthropocentric, ethnocentric individualistic biases that are embedded in Western language and concepts are diametrically opposed to that of the Anishinaabeg who recognize the interconnectedness of all living things. This belief is eloquently expressed by the Ojibwe phrase kina enwemgig meaning “all my relations” which is commonly used by Anishinaabe when referring to their familial connection to both plant and animal life. One of the biggest problems with the term chemophobia is that it fails to situate environmental crises within their dynamic historical, political and biosocial contexts, which precludes the politicization and serious examination of important issues in the areas of environmental protection, the regulation of risk, sustainable development, and environmental justice.


In contrast to the thin description or superficial details of anthropogenic changes that are the focus of scientific inquiry, Walpole Island residents use “thick description” (Geertz 1973) to build “thick interpretations” of social and cultural phenomena, including those that affect the environment. Hence, environmental issues are not viewed as evolving within a vacuum or in isolation of wider historical and sociopolitical processes. On the contrary, these environmental threats and crisis events are framed and interpreted as concrete examples of structural violence. Like the reserve system, Indian Act legislation, land appropriation, Indian residential schooling and outlawing of Aboriginal languages, cultures and spiritual practices, the problem of pollution or “chemical genocide” (as it is referred to by one WIFN resident) is understood by residents as yet another manifestation of colonization and imperialism. The community toxic talk also revealed the presence of syndemic suffering (Mendenhall 2012) in the community (Stephens and Herring, forthcoming). Just like a death from a thousand cuts, the cumulative personal and collective traumas amassed from decades of abuse, marginalization, disenfranchisement, disempowerment and despair shape the ways that residents experience, embody and respond to environmental risks and crisis events. For Walpole Island elders, a chemical spill amplifies stress responses because the event acts as mnemonic triggers that resurrect painful recollections of past social injustices and historical abuses.


Benefit of Looking Upstream


Theorizing a crisis tends not to be at the top of one’s to-do list, especially if you are the hapless victim in peril and facing imminent danger. McKinlay (1979) and Goodman and Leatherman (1998) present a parable that powerfully illustrates the practical benefits that can be gained from engaging in this type of reflection. It’s the story of a physician who saves a series of drowning men, one after the other from a nearby river. Although his deeds are honorable, the physician slowly comes to the sad realization that his efforts are futile. He has been so busy rescuing victims that he’s had no time to look upstream to see what (or who) is causing the men to fall into the river in the first place. As a medical anthropologist, I appreciate the simple wisdom conveyed by this story—that is, the importance of “looking upstream” at the ultimate rather than the proximate causes of poor health and social suffering. Adopting a discourse-centred approach allowed me to look upstream in a very different way—one that does not focus exclusively on chemicals or pollution as the only sources of Walpole Island’s concerns, but which views environmental degradation as a symptom of a much larger problem; one that has evolved from long-term historical and political processes and social injustices. As such, looking upstream means engaging in a more thorough analysis of structural violence in all of its forms, and analyzing these phenomena and the clues that they hold to the ultimate causes that have both literally and figuratively become toxic to the lives of Walpole Island residents.


Christianne V Stephens

Christianne V Stephens



Christianne V Stephens is a sessional assistant professor in the department of anthropology at York University, Toronto, Canada. Her areas of expertise include: indigenous health, environmental health, risk perception and risk communication. She may be reached at stephecv@yorku.ca.






via Anthropology-News http://www.anthropology-news.org/index.php/2013/06/11/toxic-talk/