Category Archives: reply anthropology

research as conversation with ancestors and peers

This is a development on a series of blogs on what Ray McDermott once called  “reply anthropology”
For some years, I have started the required initial course in a doctoral student’s career in the Programs in Anthropology at Teachers College, asking them what is the concern that drives them and what is the audience they wish to reach. As I have thought further about it recently this request fits within my interest in reconstructing “culture” not only as a state (the houses we inhabit) but as a moment in a long sequence of statements/actions triggered by earlier ones.

In other words, as Master to apprentice doctoral students, I consider it my task to help then craft (construct, write, say, [choose your verb]) a NEXT statement in the various conversations within which they will be caught (or into which they will crash). The one statement I am particularly responsible for is the crafting of their research (in proposals or dissertations) as contributions within the decades (indeed centuries) of anthropological debates so that 1) they can be heard 2) they move the conversation forward, and, 3) they do not reproduce, unwittingly, earlier statements that we hopefully buried but sometimes re-emerge under new guises (e.g. “culture of poverty”).

To think through the implications of this stance, it makes sense to generalize what conversational analysts have taught us over the past half-century. For example, take “inequality”—a classic concern in the literature and one what about all students come with. Take Rousseau on the matter who presented the concern as a universal one.  Three centuries later Graeber and Wengrow (2021) present it as a particularly “Western” (18th century and beyond European then American) one that puzzled some of among the Wendat Confederacy as they started interacting, or as I would now say, conversing with the Europeans invading their lands. (See also Dumont [1961] 1980).

What is one now to do with, that is respond to, the various challenges?  An initial response is the polite, and somewhat condescending, common framing of some ancestor as “a person of their time.” Rousseau is collectively known as one of the oldest ancestor of the current social sciences (Durkheim [1918] 1960, Lévi-Strauss [1962] 1976). Durkheim stressed Rousseau taking on Hobbes on the foundations of society. Lévi-Strauss stresses Rousseau’s responding to Descartes on his centering on his own thinking, rather than taking into account the multiplicity of ways to be human that delighted Lévi-Strauss. Neither Durkheim nor Lévi-Strauss picked on the future of Rousseau in politics.
Recently, G&W  acknowledged this and attempted to re-place him as one of the many who misled the social sciences, and particularly anthropology. G&W attempt a new NEXT to stress aspects of the overall human record otherwise obscured. Rousseau’s own NEXT is, famously, summarized in the first sentence in his Discourse on the origin of inequality: “The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying ‘This is mine,’ and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society.”W&G pick up on what they call Rousseau’s myth of the “stupid savage” (2021: 73) in which they the find a prestatement of the European 19th century justification for colonization. Arguably, this myth, rewritten many times, is behind all “development” schemes of the 20th century.
Some will see here a prefiguration of Marx against private property. I find it redolent of “culture of poverty” as it tars the other people around the first man as “simple” (naive, ignorant, primitive, underdeveloped…). Others have seen him as encouraging the worst aspects of several revolutions.

Was Rousseau (Marx, Durkheim, W&G) a “man of his time”? Of course (what other time would he be of?)! But… he was also a “man against his time.” Strictly speaking he was a man writing something in response to a question asked by the very established Académie de Dijon “whether the reestablishment of the sciences and the arts contributed to purifying morals.” Rousseau’s response displaces the topic and opens the way both to political and analytic developments. Subsequent revolutions and theories of social structure themselves transformed further responses in conversations that are continuing. Such statements are made in a certain times but those that we remember construct a new time when, as Lévi-Strauss once put it “individual works … are adopted on a collective mode” (1971: 560). Or, to translate this into a generalized form of conversational analysis, “a statement by one speaker responding to an earlier statement moves a conversation if it is picked up by another speaker.” Of all those who responded to the question asked by the Académie de Dijon only one is remembered and his discourse is now “myth” in the strongest form of the word.

So, the “time” (culture, identity, habitus) provide the material (intellectual, institutional, and material) and, to use a word I am now appropriating by generalizing it, “triggers” some NEXT statement. But the “time” does not shape the statement into itself for the statement can change, however locally, the “time.” When Rousseau died in 1778, the world of 18th century Europe was not the world of his birth in 1712, as he, and quite a few others (Hobbes, Hume, the Iroquois, various kings, dukes and princesses, etc.), had responded to the challenges other put to them. This NEXT world answered by waging various revolutions (in the Americas and Europe) and wars (Hobbes, Hume, the Iroquois, various kings, dukes and princesses, etc.) that triggered further developments, up to this day.

Let’s formalize this further by looking again at what should now be a classic ethnographic case: Goodwin series of article on “Chil,” a man with severe aphasia (2002, 2003, 2004, 2010). In summary, the series, building on Goodwin’s earlier work in conversational analysis, is ostensibly about constructing or accomplishing “sense” or “meaning” as a joint activity. This happens as “Chil’s action is deeply indexical in that it emerges within a sequential context that provides strong projections about what a move he might make there will be concerned with.” (2004: 60). The emphasis is on the sequence of turns (moves, statements) in a conversation which produces what any turn “means’ and what the whole conversation (or part of it) might be “about.” Goodwin emphasizes the complexity of maintaining a conversational order by various means, many not syntactic, to confirm that a statement (turn) has done something opening the way for a NEXT statement answering a possibility within the first. In the usual words the “meaning” of the initial statement is confirmed by the “meaning” of the next statement, this being confirmed by what happens in the third statement (which can either be a “OK, you got it” or “this is not what I meant.” In the Chil series Goodwin documents how Chil and his interlocutors accomplished various things, from telling stories, to joking, to explaining why oranges cannot be taken from California to Florida. While the last episode is from an unpublished paper, it involves the specific “doing” of something: Chil refuses the gift of an orange and explains why the gift should not be accepted. The issue here then is not just “meaning” but “action”: conversations, like speech, “act.” And by acting they may not only restore a threatened order, or make it even more ordered (“islanding”), but conversations can also lead the assembled interlocutors (even those who may not have been directly involved) onto paths not until then explored.

(Note that I am not talking here about the recent cliches that invoke “starting a national conversation about [race, gender, etc.]”—unless one considered that most of those have actually been going on for generations and may not take those caught with them some of them might want to go)

References

Dumont, Louis   1980   “Caste, Racism and ‘Stratification’.” .

Durkheim, Emile   1960   Montesquieu and Rousseau Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press.

Goodwin, Charles   2004   “A Competent Speaker Who Can’t Speak: The Social Life of Aphasia.” Journal of Linguistic Anthropology. 14, 2: 151-170.

Goodwin, Charles   2010   “Constructing Meaning through Prosody in Aphasia.” In Prosody in interaction. Edited by D. Barth-Weingarten, E. Reber, and M. Selting. Philadelphia: John Benjamins. pp. 373-394.

Goodwin, Charles   2003   Conversational frameworks for the accomplishment of meaning in aphasis In Conversation and brain damage. Edited by Charles Goodwin. Oxford University Press. pp. 90-116.

Goodwin, Charles, and M. Goodwin and D. Olsher   2002   Producing sense with nonsense syllables: Turn and sequence in conversations with a man with severe aphasia In The language of turn and sequence. Edited by C. Ford, B. Fox, and S. Thompson. New York: Oxford Academic. pp. 56-80.

Graeber, David, and David Wengrow   2021   The dawn of everything: A new history of humanity New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Lévi-Strauss, Claude   1976   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, founder of the sciences of man .

Lévi-Strauss, Claude   1981   The naked man New York: Harper & Row.

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques   1997   Discourse on the Origin of Inequality Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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On anthropological impotence

Experiments by Professor Shafir at Princeton and others have documented how poverty itself leads people to make self-destructive decisions, perhaps by forcing them to focus attention on satisfying immediate needs to the exclusion of other considerations. (New York Times, February 24, 2016)

The American culture of the “culture of poverty” is alive and well. New York Times journalists still quote approvingly professors who tell them: “The poor lack two things: money and cognitive freedom.” And it appears that a major State actor, “the Obama administration,” relies on such experts for designing policies aimed at changing the behavior of those who do not act according to economic rationalism (e.g. do not save more for old age).

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On the (mis-)use of anthropology

Sherente Village
(Nimuendajû 1942: 17)

Last week, I heard a most interesting paper by Oren Pizmony-Levy and Gita Steiner-Khamsi about, of all things, school reform in Denmark! It may seem strange that I resonated to such a topic.[Ftn 1] But it should not appear so: in graduate school, I also resonated to reading ethnographies of Ge people of Central Brazil! People over all the world do amazing things and “school reform” is one of them.

network represenation
an example of the representation of a network
using UCINET (White 1997)

Last week, I particularly resonated to the methodology. Nimuendajû, the great ethnographer of the Ge, in his time, modeled Šerente villages on the basis of his local observations. Pizmony-Levy and Steiner-Khamsi have found a way to make visible networks involved in the production of “school reform,”[Ftn 2] on the way I suspect to modeling how such reforms proceed. Their work is part of a broad movement in the social sciences, and anthropology in particular (at least in the networks who attempt to build on Jean Lave’s work as transforming social structural analyses). The goal is to trace movement and change (or return to the old normal) in position, and perhaps even in the field of positions within which people move (including school organization). The current consensus, backed by much ethnography, is that these changes do not “just happen” as effect following some cause. It proceeds through deliberate action by emergent polities. Nimuendajû did not have the tools needed to trace how the Šerente came to do something that could be modeled as he did. But these tools are now available.

More on this another time.

What surprised in me most Oren Pizmony-Levy and Gita Steiner-Khamsi’s paper was that the most quoted document in the network of people and institutions who performed “school reform” in Denmark was …. an ethnography, of a school, by Danish anthropologists!

Anthropology of education, actually applied for what appears positive change!
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An actor-network of consequential consociates: applying anthropology to one’s personal case

In this post, I am doing something somewhat different from the usual.  I am maintaining the order I think I have established (at least as I look at it, retrospectively): this is an experiment in anthropological theorizing and teaching.  But I am delving further into parts of my life that I have not brought out.

So here it goes: applied medical anthropology

A few years ago, my wife, Susan, was diagnosed with a form of cancer known as “myelofibrosis” (who may not know it under that name might be a topic for another post as the exact name can be consequential—see below).  The “official” diagnosis was made, not surprisingly by an oncologist, the acknowledged, state approved, expert who can transform speech (this is myelofibrosis) into not simply an act, but a sequence of new moves a particular set of others, from the patient, to her family, to insurance companies, must now make. [This would be easy to model as a special case of entry into a particular kind of polity of practice.]

The oncologist told us, as I remember it four years later, something like: “People live with this for 15 years or more … You are likely to die of something else … It will change your everyday life as you will now have to schedule regular medical visits.”  I remember she was altogether good at telling us something that we knew, and much that we did not know: we had certainly never heard of this cancer or of its treatment.  Of course we went to the Internet and learned what we could, talked to her further, and settled into what I am experimenting in calling, for various theoretical reasons, a “new normal.”  Actually, what we learned was not extremely bad news for people entering in their 70s.  The oncologist then (and I will keep emphasizing conversational and interactional temporality) tried a drug that would alleviate the symptoms of a cancer that affects the production by the bone marrow of red blood cells: profound anemia and the attendants limits on mobility.

Susan’s body, in its thinginess and peculiarities, was leading us to various particular disabilities that can be mitigated or expanded depending (de Wolfe 2014).

So, this was actually a good time for us to adopt the car culture of suburbia.  The long walks in Manhattan to which we were accustomed would not have been possible anymore.  We escaped one disability.

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What some anthropologists who reply did, on a Thursday in February 2015

In my last post, I argued that “Applied Anthropology” is, to all of us anthropologists, a total social fact, a “thing”—both in Mauss’s and Latour’s senses.

But that does not tell us much about the actual practices of anthropologists who find themselves caught by this thing facted in a long history. So, today, I wonder about what was done, one Thursday in February 2015, in New York City, in a classroom of a Columbia building. Then and there, a bunch of anthropologists told each other what they do. What did they say?

In the first few minutes of the conference, Ray McDermott put it this way: “when someone says stupid or mean things about kids, I want them to know I will be at their door the next day.” This, he said, is “reply anthropology.” Replace “kid” with “mothers,” “haitian farmers,” or whomever is talked about in stupid ways, and variations on this presentation of self were made. Some argued that McDermott was simply saying, colorfully, what may have been the presentation of anthropology by Boas in the United States, Mauss in France, Malinowski in England, and many others: when someone says stupid, or at least mis-informed things, about human beings, anthropologists will notice, shudder, bring out obscure, and often actively obscured, practices through painstaking observation. They argue among themselves on how to interpret the observation and what observations to conduct next. Then anthropologists reply. And now, they examine the replies to their replies as others continue to mis-represent their work and, more significantly, the work of the people about whom the conversations are held.

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Reply anthropology (?)

After the end of the February 26, 2015 conference on “‘Applying’ anthropology,” Jean Lave wondered whether we had not “reified” applied anthropology by discussing what became, discursively, an “it” that stood against another “it” (unmarked, regular, academic, ivory tower anthropology).

Reification is of course the trap all critical discourses fall into, willy nilly: the more people say “I am (not) an applied anthropologist,” the more they affirm there is a such thing even when the object is to criticize IT.

But what were we to do? in the active practice of a particular critical discourse? in the second decade of the 21st century? within the confines of a State authorized institution dedicated, by statute, to “Applied Anthropology”?  I thought we would spend more time on alternate qualifiers.  Actually, we did not, much.  The fundamental issue, I guess we all agreed, is not a matter of qualification but one of whether there is anything to qualify.  In that sense at least, we all feared what Lave said we did do, and that is reification through questions about the classification of many different kind of actual research and publishing practices as, more or less, “marked anthropology” and thus NOT [unmarked] anthropology. [Ftn 1]

The fear of reification is not irrational, or matter of feelings or beliefs.  We all know that reification blinds, can lead us to make mistakes, can be used against us.  Reification puts us in a place that is no less real for being the cultural production of a time and population.  But we, as the kind of anthropologists who participate in a conference on “‘applying’ anthropology” cannot really NOT stay in this place we fear.  We must stand our ground (to develop the geographical metaphor) if only because acting on this fear could send us back (or be pushed back) into small ivory towers of irrelevance—and that would be ironic indeed since [applied] anthropology may have been, at times, a response to calls by students and others for relevance (engagement, etc.)!

But standing our ground does not mean that we cannot struggle towards some reconstruction, if not relocation.  To that end, I’d say we were giving examples of our practices over longer or shorter careers as professional anthropologists, and we were examining more carefully how these practices, as they are publicized, link with other practices both within and without the discipline.
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Anthropologies of the dangerous (?)

[my current thinking about the title and rationale for an event the Joint Program in Applied Anthropology at Teachers College, Columbia University is planning for the Fall 2014]

There may be some truth to the romantic image of the anthropologist (archaeologist?) as daredevil pursuing dubious knowledge, motivated by obscure interests.   Why else would any scholar, or apprentice scholar, insist on visiting far away mountains or islands (or other scary neighborhoods nearer at hand), if it wasn’t because some knowledge about humanity and its possible futures cannot be gained from the comfort of one’s armchair (or even hard seat in the library)?  Boas, Rivers, Malinowski, Mead and countless others left the comfort of home on the conviction, we continue to share, that the knowledge they, and we, seek can only be gained by placing ourselves in dangerous places—not only when the danger may spring from wild beasts, poisonous plants, or not necessarily friendly peoples, but when it springs from sovereign authorities.  “Powers-that-be,” from governments to organizations controlled by governments to private foundations or universities more or less controlled by corporations and the more or less benevolent rich and powerful, may open routes to new locales no Indiana Jones could otherwise reach.  But they also control what can be made public, how and when.  They can be dangerous to one’s career, or coopt it, all the more so that the proposed knowledge challenges this or that common sense.  We also need to understand these dangers, theoretically and practically.

Anthropological knowledge can be dangerous and there is an argument for keeping it in protected environments away from polities that would use it to nefarious ends.  But at least some anthropologists always intended, and continue to intend, for their work to enter the political, no matters the dangers.  From Boas onwards, anthropologists have written specifically against what made so much sense that it could drive political action at the largest of scales, justify action, or mask the other motivations that can move people to act.  But many anthropologists have also gone far beyond what has been called, for much of my middle professional life, “deconstruction” (or “cultural critique”).  They have also wanted to help.  Emblematic is Ruth Benedict’s work for the American government in World War II.  This was actually but one aspect of the work of other anthropologists of the time as they founded the Society for Applied Anthropology.  W. Lloyd Warner was involved, as well as Conrad Arensberg, Allison Davis, Eliot Chapple, not to mention Margaret Mead.  That call to help took many form including Sol Tax’s “Action Anthropology” that was also a critical response to what “Applied Anthropology” was becoming (Bennett 1996).   It led to the creation of the Council on Anthropology and Education that provided an institutional framework for entering conversations about the evolution of schooling policies.  And it led to the inauguration of the “Joint Program in Applied Anthropology” at Columbia University as one of the responses of the Columbia department to students’ call for “relevance.”  The history of what an editorial in Current Anthropology called “going public with anthropology” (1996) is long and we must ground our own call in this history.

Continue reading Anthropologies of the dangerous (?)

Taking on (socio-)biologists

Two of my favorite students, Michael Scroggins and (Dr.) Gus Andrews, have been manning (peopling? personing?) the defenses of cultural anthropology against Razib Khan (who “has an academic background in the biological sciences and has worked in software”).  One of Khan’s blog is published under the banner of Discover magazine, the popular science magazine I subscribe to (and which I have quoted in my blog).

Khan once wrote that “I want to aid in spreading the message [cultural anthropology] should be extirpated from the academy” (in bold no less).  Scroggins countered with a broad side against Khan now countered by Khan (and the exchanges continue).  Most of the commenters to Khan’s reply support him against “the anthropologists” except for Andrews who has joined the defense.  Not surprisingly, the issue has been simplified to a question of “believing,” or not, in genetic determinism.  Scroggins more subtle arguments about the production of knowledge have been, mostly, left aside–and particularly the production of anthropological knowledge which, perhaps like the production of biological knowledge, might be left to anthropologists (why not claim the scientific autonomy that is generally granted to the other sciences?).

I have been encouraging my students to engage the (socio-)biologists like Boas did more than a century ago.  Most of our publics are now hostile (including in the social sciences), and many of our colleagues have retreated unhelpfully from modernity into (literary) critical ivory towers.  Particularly to the extent that we might want to influence policy, quite like other scientists have done, then we must be on the offensive.  But how? With what weapons?

When I was in graduate school the University of Chicago, from 1968 to 1972, we laughed when we heard that some of our faculty, when conducting fielwork in the 1930s or 1940s, had been asked to take with them calipers and other anthropometric tools used by the first Boasians to counter the dominant socio-biological theories of the late 19th century.  We were told that none of them ever used these tools. I, personally, have never held them in my hands.  By our advisers’ graduate student times, the arguments had been won and we, a generation later, did not have to become experts in biological theory.

We were wrong.

And we dismissed, with superior shrugs, the publication of E. O. Wilson’s Sociobiology: The new synthesis (1975).  Marshall Sahlins did tackle it (1976) but some of us thought that it was not even worth the effort.  Sociobiology would die of its own.

We were naive, as well as wrong.

And then we went foolish when some of us took literally the metaphor “culture is text.” This metaphor could be used to focus our attention to the detail of semiotic processes, to the very practical act of “writing” (composing, producing) a career, to the production of culture and, indeed, its historical evolution from inescapable pasts to unpredictable futures.  Texts, when they are inscribed in history, are anything but abstractions.  Take the moment when a few human beings became lactose tolerant and spread this tolerance across northern Europe and, later, the Americas.  This development in the history of humanity, granting for the moment the underlying genetic biology, is a significant challenge to any of the disciplines concerned with what makes homo sapiens different.  It implies that biological evolution of the species has not stopped; and it suggests that some events in human history can impact this evolution in unimaginable ways.  Who could have predicted, 10,000 years ago, that the bunch of probably quite sick people who had to drink milk would be so successful, 10,000 years later, that they would impose their language (heavily transformed on the basis of linguistic processes) onto about all human beings over the globe?

Archeologists will have to weigh in.  Did the human beings who moved into the plains of Russia where they had to survive on milk did so because of wanderlust (?)? Were they pushed out by people with better weapons and military tactics?  What sort of kinship systems did they produce?  What political, religious, and moral systems did they develop?  Actually, we may have some information about this by looking, precisely, at the texts that some of these people left us 5,000 or 6,000 later in the Avesta and the Rigveda.

We do need to take the (socio-)biologists very seriously.  I suggest we not do so as political adversaries or on ideological grounds.  This has not worked.  It will not work.  And it would not have worked for Boas if he had not taken the (socio-)biologists with their own tools, with a deep knowledge of their discipline, as well as of the disciplines that would demonstrate the limits of their attempts to deal with human behavior from their perspective.  Which is why, I believe, Boas insisted that anthropologists also understand archeology (history), linguistics (semiotics), and evolutionary biology.  Of course, he insisted that we take on (socio-)biologists through ethnography, that is through the demonstration that what is most distinctive about humanity is not that, for example, we are driven by sexual instincts to mate and reproduce, but that, as Lévi-Strauss summarized, human beings distinguish between parallel and cross-cousins.  Move forward and wonder how the New York Metropolitan area, in the 1990s, would produce both Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift?

Then we can move the conversations with the audiences of (socio-)biologists from the realm of biological abstractions to the realm of, precisely, those facts that are both glaringly human and inexplicable, in their actual detail, in biological terms.  Not that biology is not involved, but that, as Lévi-Strauss once wrote, it has been transformed into something else plausibly labeled “culture” about which (socio-)biologists can say as little as we can say about their field.