Veronica Strang - What Antropologists Do

English edition
First published in 2009 by

Berg
Editorial offices:
First Floor, Angel Court, 81 St Clements Street, Oxford OX4 1AW, UK
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Veronica Strang 2009
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form
or by any means without the written permission of
Berg.
Berg is the imprint of Oxford International Publishers Ltd.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Strang, Veronica.
What anthropologists do / Veronica Strang ; illustrations by Blue Powell.English ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-1-84520-355-9 (pbk.)
ISBN-10: 1-84520-355-0 (pbk.)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84520-344-2 (cloth)
ISBN-10: 1-84520-354-2 (cloth)
1. AnthropologyVocational guidance. 2. AnthropologyResearch. 3. Anthropology
Methodology. I. Powell, Blue, ill. II. Title.
GN41.8.S77 2009
306.023dc22
2009011242
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 84520 344 2 (Cloth)
978 1 84520 355 9 (Paper)
Typeset by JS Typesetting Ltd, Porthcawl, Mid Glamorgan
Printed in the UK by the MPG Books Group
www.bergpublishers.com
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements ix
Introduction 1
What Do Anthropologists Do? 1
Employing Anthropology 4
Conducting Research 5
1 Anthropology and Advocacy 9
Balancing Acts 9
Facilitating Cross-cultural Communication 12
Defending Livelihoods and Knowledge 14
Human Rights 17
Land Rights 18
Participatory Action 21
2 Anthropology and Aid 26
Crossing Boundaries 26
Aid and Ambiguity 27
NGO-graphy 30
Assisting Aid 32
Dealing with Displacement 33
Understanding Race and Racism 34
3 Anthropology and Development 37
Critiquing Development 37
In Development 40
Connecting Multiple Realities 43
Conserving Cultural Diversity 50
Globalization 53
4 Anthropology and the Environment 58
Environmental Problems 58
Indigenous Knowledges 62
Political Ecology 63
Unpacking Garbage 66
HumanAnimal Relations 67
Anthropology and Environmentalism 70
5 Anthropology and Governance 76
The Big Picture 76
The Not So Big Picture 81
Home Work 84
Prescription and Persuasion 85
Education 88
6 Anthropology, Business and Industry 93
Money Matters 93
Anthropologists in Business 99
Multinational and Multicultural Communication 103
Anthropology and Communications Media 106
Marketing Anthropology 109
Designing Anthropology 112
7 Anthropology and Health 116
Health in a Cultural Context 116
From the Cradle to the Grave 118
Food and Lifestyle 124
Understanding Disease 129
Drug Cultures and Crime 130
Managing Health 135
8 Anthropology, Art and Identity 138
Defining Identity 138
Gender and Sexuality 139
Race, Nationalism and Social Movements 141
Representing Identity 143
Art and Performance 145
Museums and Cultural Heritage 151
Film and Photography 154
vi c o n t e n t s
Conclusion 157
Applying Anthropology 157
Interdisciplinary Anthropology 158
Transferring Anthropology 159
What Kind of People Become Anthropologists? 162
Appendix 1. Studying Anthropology 164
Appendix 2. Further Reading 166
Appendix 3. Other Resources 173
Glossary 176
Notes 178
Bibliography 181
Index 204
c o n t e n t s vii
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book arose out of discussions between the executive committees of the
Association of Social Anthropologists of the UK and the Commonwealth, and the
Royal Anthropological Institute. Both have long observed that, with little
anthropology
offered in schools, school leavers have little idea about what anthropologists
do, and no idea at all about the broad potential for interesting (and viable)
careers
that studying anthropology provides. It is apparent that many potential research
users are equally unsure about what anthropology can offer. As a result of these
discussions Bergs managing director, Kathryn Earle, asked me to review the
applied
anthropology literature, collect a range of examples and describe these in a form
accessible to a younger audience. This turned out to be an intriguing project,
enabling
me to discover what my colleagues around the world are doing in many areas of
research far removed from my own. I am grateful for this opportunity, and for the
support of the ASA and the RAI in the process. Other anthropology associations
and journals were also very helpful in circulating my requests for information. I
would like to thank them, and in particular those colleagues from around the
world
who responded with lively accounts of their professional experiences.1
There are some excellent texts aimed at introducing first-year anthropology
undergraduates to the discipline and providing career advice for graduates.
These
describe ways of applying anthropology that are now well established, as well as
pointing to emerging areas. I am greatly indebted to the authors of these texts,
and
hope this volume will provide a stepping stone to their work.
A number of people assisted this project directly. I would particularly like to thank
my research assistant, Mira Taitz, who did a sterling job helping to collect diverse
examples of anthropological application; Blue Powell who undertook the large
and
challenging task of illustrating the text; Aran Yardley and April-Rose Geers who
acted as my guinea pigs for final drafts; and the various colleagues and
anonymous
referees who took the time to read and make comments on the manuscript. And
it
was, as ever, a pleasure to work with the team at Berg.
INTRODUCTION
WHAT DO ANTHROPOLOGISTS DO?
What anthropologists do seems to be a bit of a mystery to
many people, and there are several reasons for this. One is
that anthropologists are involved in such a wide variety of
things that the most accurate answer to the question what do

they do? is just about anything that involves understanding
human social behaviour. Another is that peoples ideas about
anthropology are often gleaned from portrayals in literature,
film and television, which tend to favour rather dramatic
stereotypes: pith-helmet-wearing colonial adventurers living
with (equally stereotypical) hidden tribes in the jungle;
crime-busting forensic anthropologists (who always find the
murderer); or bearded, sandals-with-socks obsessives going
bonkers somewhere in the outback.1
My personal view is that we need to challenge these stereotypes
for several reasons: because the facts are more interesting
than the fiction; because, in an ever more complex world,
2whatanthropologistsdo
anthropology has a vital contribution to make; and because, contrary to the
stereotypes,
anthropological training is immensely applicable in a very wide variety of
careers. So the purpose of this book is to describe what anthropologists actually
do,
with examples from a range of areas. It is not a comprehensive account: just a
brief
introduction to the kind of work that anthropologists undertake, and the multiple
directions open to practitioners.
It is probably useful to start by talking about what anthropology is.2 The broadest
definition is that it is a social science that involves the study of human groups
and
their behaviour: their interactions with each other, and with the material
environment.
Most anthropologists study contemporary societies (or smaller groups within
them), although in some countries anthropology also includes archaeology and
the study of past societies.3 It sits alongside related social sciences like sociology
(which tends to be more quantitative), and psychology (which focuses more on
individuals).
Anthropology itself is a very broad discipline4 with large sub-disciplinary areas:
for example, social anthropology, cultural anthropology, political anthropology,
economic anthropology, the anthropology of religion, biological anthropology,
medical anthropology and my own field, environmental anthropology. There are
other offshoots too, crossing into development studies, social policy, and
studies of
art and material culture. And, as a glance at the diverse list of contents for this
book
illustrates, there is a host of smaller, even more specialized areas.
What unites this diversity? Anthropology has several key characteristics: it is
holistic, placing whatever behaviour it is examining within its social and
environmental
context, and considering the range of cultural beliefs and practices that direct
peoples activities. It is largely qualitative, recognizing that most of these things
are
not readily measurable. It aims to be in-depth, getting under the surface of
social
life to make its underlying dynamics visible. It engages fully with the complexities
of human being.
In effect, what anthropologists do is try to understand and represent the

realities
of particular cultural and sub-cultural worldviews, encapsulating their key
features
and underlying principles, in order to make sense of human behaviour. They try
to
do this in such a way that this understanding can be communicated crossculturally,
acting as a translatory bridge between groups whose beliefs, values and
practices may
be completely different.
Anthropological research generally involves working with a host group or
community
to create an ethnography. This can be described as a portrait of that group
and its dynamics, which is usually in text form, although some anthropologists
also
use visual media. Most ethnographies contain a set of core elements: the
composition
of the group; its history; its ways of making a living in a particular environment;
its
introduction3
social and political institutions; its belief systems and values. A good way to
imagine
this ethnographic portrait is that the particular issue the anthropologist is
studying
will be in the foreground, in detail, but these contextualizing elements that shape
how people live will be there too, as an explanatory background (see Agar 1996,
Pawluch et al. 2005).
An ethnography is the result of the two key things that underpin any science:
theory and method. Like other sciences, anthropology has, over many years,
developed a set of theoretical principles. Being part of an ongoing international
and
inter-cultural scientific conversation, these are always moving forward,
increasing
our understanding. Again like other sciences, anthropology is fundamentally
comparative:
we compare different social and cultural groups and, by examining their
differences and similarities, we are able to tackle broader questions about human
beings and the patterns of behaviour that they share.
Anthropology theories have been described in various ways: for example, by
James Peacock (1986) as a lens that helps to bring human life into focus. As a
keen
scuba diver, I tend to think of the in-depth immersion of ethnographic research
as a
way of seeing under the surface. Theories are also presented as a sort of tool kit
for
analysis, and thats quite a good analogy too, as it underlines the reality that
theory
is a practical thing: a set of useful idea tools that help us to open up what is
often
regarded as the black box of human behaviour.
Of course any sensible analysis requires data. Anthropology is fundamentally
empirical, in that it relies on data collected in the field. Let me have another
swipe at
the stereotypes here, and say that in the field doesnt have to be somewhere
far away,
or even somewhere else. As anyone who has travelled will know, being a long
way
from home is certainly useful, in terms of coming into contact with (and being
able
to compare) very different perspectives on life. But highly diverse social groups
and
cultural ideas can also be found on the doorstep, and there are many
anthropologists
for whom the field is at home, working with particular communities, sub-cultural
groups, organizations or networks.
EMPLOYING ANTHROPOLOGY
Anthropologists are supported in their work in a variety of ways. Some are
employed
by universities, and therefore combine teaching with research. Both of these
activities
are important to universities, and most hope that their academic staff will devote
their time fairly equally to both. In reality, most university-based anthropologists
probably spend a higher proportion of their time teaching and doing
administration,
but they are still expected to keep up with what is going on in their field, and to
conduct some research. At a tertiary level, there is (or should be) a symbiotic
relationship
between teaching and research, with original research findings feeding into the
curriculum. This makes additional use of the external research that academics
do,
and ensures that students receive teaching that is intellectually fresh and up-todate.
For anthropologists who like teaching, and who can tolerate the (considerable)
administrative demands of university life, an institutional post has a number of
advantages. The teaching itself is often very rewarding; a good academic
department
provides a lively and supportive intellectual environment and with luck
congenial colleagues; and, where tenure or long-term contracts are available,
there is
a greater degree of security than may be provided by more independent career
paths.
Universities often provide some financial support for research, or at least regular
sabbatical time to enable bursts of research activity, and university-employed
anthropologists
also write research proposals and compete for funding from national or
international funding bodies. Most countries have a research council, and there
are
other (national and international) funding bodies, such as the Royal
Anthropological
Institute or the Wenner-Gren Foundation, whose aim is to support original
research
in the discipline.
Some university-based anthropologists also do consultancy work, and some

combine part-time teaching posts with other forms of employment or freelance
research. As the case studies in this book illustrate, anthropological CVs often
contain a mixture of ways to make use of anthropological training, and there is
considerable scope for people to shape their careers in accord with their
particular
interests and preferences.
Although teaching is an obvious avenue of employment for anyone trained in
a scientific discipline, there are probably greater numbers of anthropologists
either
employed as full-time researchers or working as freelancers for government
departments,
non-governmental organizations, charities, industries, legal bodies, indigenous
communities and so forth. There are significant advantages to employment
outside
the academy, although it is sometimes less secure: an ability to focus on
research
(rather than spending a large proportion of time on teaching and administrative
duties); the opportunity to follow specific areas of interest, for example in politics,
introduction5
health, or development; and, of course, independence from the strictures of
institutional
employment.
CONDUCTING RESEARCH
However anthropologists make a living, they have a responsibility, not only to
their employers or sponsors, but also to anthropology as a discipline, in terms of
maintaining professional standards, academic independence, and ethical
principles.
Ethics are central to practitioners relationships with the groups or communities
in
which they conduct research (see Caplan 2003, Fluehr-Lobban 2003).
Professional
anthropology associations expect their members to conform to detailed and
rigorous
codes of practice, which ensure that the interests of the host group or community
are carefully protected throughout the research.5 Projects are therefore designed
with
two key questions in mind: how will this research produce new knowledge that
answers a particular question? and how will it benefit the group in which it is
conducted, and society in general? In many cases, the host group is involved in
the
research design from the very beginning. At the very least, there will be a
process of
asking permission from them; of seeking input on the proposed work; and of
getting
feedback on the research findings as these emerge.
Many anthropologists maintain long-term relationships with communities,
returning regularly to extend earlier research, or to do new projects. As well as
allowing researchers to develop productive collaborations with individuals and
groups, these lengthy relationships also permit shorter research projects, building
on accumulated background ethnographic data. In many professional contexts,
the
realities of research funding do not permit a great deal of time for fieldwork, and
anthropologists have to build on former (or other peoples) datasets and
experience.
Nevertheless, the major objective is still to create as complete a picture as
possible,
so that the research question is always given an ethnographic context that will
help
to explain what is going on.
Anthropologists tend to collect a lot of data, and it is this meticulous depth and
detail that gives strong foundations to their analyses. Preliminary literature
reviews
can take many weeks, and it is common for fieldwork to take from six months to
a year. In a sense, anthropology is the slow food of the social sciences, because
it
tends to be quite painstaking and cannot be whipped up instantly. Fortunately,
this
willingness to be very thorough generally pays off, providing genuine and useful
insights into human behaviour.
Ethnographic data are collected in a variety of ways. A core method is
participant
observation, which as its name implies involves participating in the everyday
life of the host community, and carefully observing and recording events. The
other major method is to conduct interviews with individuals and groups, and this
usually means a mixture of long in-depth interviews and shorter, more
opportunistic
ones. Interviews might be formal (with a specific list of issues to explore) or more
exploratory and informal. Ethnographers often interview people a number of
times,
and spend a lot of time with them, in particular those members of the host group
willing to work collaboratively on the research.
Fieldwork is followed by a process of analysis, which means organizing the data
coherently and employing theory to make sense of the picture that emerges. This
can
take a while too: there will be a lot of data to consider and there are no easy
answers.
Humans are complex creatures, and while biological and ecological factors may
play
a part, behaviour is greatly complicated by social and cultural complexities. The
art of producing a good ethnographic account is to crystallize the issues
succinctly
but not to reduce them to the point where they cease to be meaningful, and to
leave sufficient explanatory context so that it is possible to see consistent
patterns, to
understand what is going on, and thus to offer practical, helpful insights that can
be
applied to the problems and challenges that people face.
Many people assume that anthropology divides into applied work (by which
they usually mean research with an intended practical outcome taking place
outside
the academe), or more theoretical work, which supposedly takes place in the
ivory tower of a university. There are various societies of applied
anthropologists,
and these are immensely helpful and supportive to practitioners who freelance,
or whose institutional base does not contain many anthropological colleagues.
However, although this applied/theoretical dichotomy is a functional shorthand,
it is a little misleading. It encourages an assumption that ivory-tower research
and the development of theory is rather exclusive and not very practical and that
anthropologists working elsewhere are somehow outside the main part of the
discipline.
My own view is that both of these assumptions are wrong. Good applied
research, wherever it is based, requires a strong theoretical framework and a
rigorous
introduction7
academic approach; and theoretical development itself is greatly strengthened
by
information gleaned directly from empirical data (based on evidence) and field
experience. The nature of anthropological research, with its grass-roots focus and
its immediate involvement with human communities, is very grounded in any
case.
So however esoteric a research question may seem, understanding why people
do
what they do always has some practical value, and even seemingly abstract
research
generates ideas and proposes new theories that if they are robust will filter,
through wider discourse, into practice.
In essence, the process of anthropological research entails the following steps
(although probably in a much less neatly defined order, with lots of feedback
loops
and sidetracks):
Designing: outlining the research question and the aims of the research.
Seeking funds: writing grant proposals.
Reviewing: trawling the theoretical and ethnographic literature to see what has
been done on the research topic to date.
Defining and refining: developing the project aims and hypotheses.
Doing ethnographic fieldwork: collecting data through, for example, participant
observation and interviews (some preliminary fieldwork is often done at an
earlier stage too).
Analysing the data: making sense of the picture through the lens of
anthropological
theories, testing hypotheses.
Finding answers: drawing conclusions from the research.
Disseminating the findings: writing texts, giving presentations, making films, or
producing other outputs, such as exhibitions.
Participating in international conversations: adding input to wider debates on
research questions, contributing to theoretical development.
And often . . .
Making recommendations: advising policy and decision makers, research users.
Following through: assisting the implementation of the findings.
Evaluating: conducting further research on the effects of this implementation.
As this list suggests, anthropological research produces outcomes in several
potential
directions: towards theoretical developments within the discipline, and into
practical recommendations for research users. It also illustrates the important
feedback
relationship between theory and practice, underlining the artificiality of the
division between theoretical and applied work.
This division is equally artificial in defining peoples career identities. As noted
above, anthropologists careers frequently involve a mixture of
teaching/university
posts and other roles, and most have research interests that engage with issues
far
removed from any kind of ivory tower. Typically, anthropologists web sites or
lists
of publications (including those found on university web pages) describe a range
of
work, some of which could readily be described as applied and some of which is
more obviously focused on contributing to theoretical debates. They also reveal
an
extraordinary diversity of interests: a profession investigating a host of intriguing
questions about human behaviour in an equally varied range of groups.
Anthropology is not only fascinating but also rather addictive. Many people start
by studying a bit of anthropology but then find they want to go on. That is more
or
less what happened to me: after more than a decade of working as a freelance
writer
and researcher in various parts of the world, I was sufficiently intrigued by a stint
in the Australian outback to spend a year doing a masters course in
anthropology.
A doctorate, several teaching posts and numerous research projects later it
remains
endlessly absorbing.
This raises a question as to why there are not more people doing anthropology.
After all, there are plenty of souls with incurable curiosity, the flexibility to work
with different cultures and ideas, and enough patience to do in-depth research.
A major obstacle is that anthropology is not generally taught in schools, so most
people dont come into contact with it.6 This leaves them with only the
stereotypes
to consider, and part of the problem with those (quite apart from the fact that
they
are inaccurate and outdated), is that they dont seem to point either to potential
careers in anthropology, or to many practical uses of anthropological research.
So this book is intended to show that anthropology can lead to a vast choice
of careers, and that it has an equally diverse range of potential applications. I
have
divided the material into some broad areas, but these are fairly arbitrary and
there
is considerable overlap and flow between them. In each area, however, the
purpose
of anthropological research remains constant: to gain a real understanding of a
particular social reality, its beliefs values and practices, and to communicate this
understanding across cultural and sub-cultural boundaries.
1 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
ADVOCACY
BALANCING ACTS
A lot of the work that anthropologists do involves acting as cultural translators:
creating bridges between societies or more specific social groups that have quite
different worldviews. Being able to understand various points of view, and
translate
ideas in a non-judgemental way, is a key aspect of the training that they receive,
and
this rests on a combination of rigorous in-depth research and a theoretical
framework
that enables them to step back and consider situations analytically. In many
situations,
having a neutral but empathetic outsider, who has taken the trouble to gain
insights
into the complexities of peoples lives, can greatly assist cross-cultural
interactions.
Scientific neutrality can be particularly important in legal contexts, where courts
or tribunals depend on the testimony of disinterested expert witnesses to
present
evidence, but there are many situations in which cultural beliefs, values and
practices
clash, and tensions arise. For example, the translatory skills of anthropologists
may be used in conflicts between religious groups; in quarrels between managers
and workforces; in defusing racial or ethnic hostilities; in mediating between
organizations competing for the control of heritage sites and national parks; or in
facilitating communication between local groups and government agencies.
For some practitioners, advocacy is a logical extension of long-term working
relationships with host communities. It is, after all, virtually impossible to work
closely with people and not develop some sympathy for their concerns. Even in
the early 1900s, when Bronislaw Malinowski first established in-depth fieldwork
as a core anthropological method, he suggested that as a scientific moralist fully
in
10 w h a t a n t h r o p o l o g i s t s d o
sympathy with races hereto oppressed or at least underprivileged, the
anthropologist
would demand equal treatment for all, full cultural independence for every
differential
group or nation (Hedican 1995: 45). Malinowski carried through with these
views, presenting evidence to the Australian government about the labour
conditions
people were experiencing in the western Pacific, and criticizing colonial
administrations
for appropriating the land of indigenous people and disregarding their
customary practices. Malinowski thereby laid the foundation for an advocacy role
in anthropology very early on in the history of the discipline (Hedican 1995: 45).
It is almost inevitable that sustained contact with a given people will involve
the ethnographer in disputes emerging from the contradictions between ethnic,
regional, national and international interests . . . The professions commitment
to the non-academic world, is especially evident in the context of indigenous
human rights . . . Countries such as Australia, Canada, Brazil, and most
of Hispanic America have conferred a great deal of weight on the work of

ethnographers. Both the State and the public at large, credit these professionals
for their anthropological knowledge but, perhaps more explicitly, for the kind
of complicity bred between researchers and research subjects, a complicity that
comes from sharing the vicissitudes met by indigenous people in their interethnic
lives. (Ramos 2004: 578)
Anthropologists have always had to make delicate judgements about where

to position themselves on a continuum between striving for as much scientific
impartiality as can be achieved (recognizing that all scientific activity contains
value choices), and taking up a more partisan role as direct advocates for the
people
with whom they work. There has been much debate in the discipline about how
relationships with host communities and other research users should be
constructed,
and about the potential for direct advocacy to undermine perceptually neutral
scientific authority, which is, in its own way, highly effective in assisting people.
The ethics of working with people, whoever and wherever they are, require social
researchers at the very least to do no harm to them. As noted in the
introduction,
many anthropologists think that this ought to go further, believing that research
should not be a one-way street that merely benefits the funding agency or the
social
scientist, but should entail a reciprocal relationship in which there is also some
benefit
to the group concerned. This benefit may lie in the usefulness of the research,
rather
than in direct advocacy, but the principle of reciprocity is now well embedded in
the ethical codes that guide the discipline and much contemporary
anthropological
research is based on principles of partnership with host communities.
In reality, every anthropologist has to decide how best to do rigorous and useful
research, while also meeting ethical and moral imperatives. Anthropologists are
not
just social scientists they are also individuals with their own values and political
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d a d v o c a c y 11
beliefs, and they have often chosen to do this kind of work because they feel that
it
can make a difference. Advocacy, in its choice of an issue, is often highly
charged
and personal (Ervin 2005: 151). Anthropology therefore enables its practitioners
not only to follow their intellectual curiosity about why people do what they do,
and
produce research that reveals this in scientific terms, but also to take social
action
upon issues that they care about, and to give real help to the communities in
which
they work.
In becoming involved in peoples lives, anthropologists perform many kinds of
community service, and this can be very informal. For example, Mitzi Goheen,
who
has worked with the Nso community in western Cameroon so extensively that
they
have given her a local title
. . . often puts her topical and geographical expertise to practical use in serving
the people among whom she lives and works. As a titled leader, for example,
Dr Goheen has certain obligations to her Cameroonian friends, which she
fulfills by taking care of them in direct, practical ways. She is godmother to a
Cameroonian child, helps young men of the community negotiate bridewealth
payments, and maintains a fund at the local Baptist mission hospital to pay her
friends medical bills . . . She also helps villagers make hospital care decisions
and often transports them to the hospital as well. (Gwynne 2003a: 144)
In addition, Goheen is a director of a local lending organization, which gives

small loans to women to enable them to become players in the local economy.
These kinds of activities are common: anthropologists in the field typically try to
make themselves useful in whatever way seems to fit. One need not hold the
title
of applied anthropologist to put anthropological theory, method and expertise to
good use, nor the title advocacy anthropologist to provide support for the
members
of small-scale communities (Gwynne 2003a: 145). In this sense, the concept of
anthropology as community service underpins a lot of the work described in this
book. However, this chapter focuses particularly on the situations in which the
role
of advocacy in anthropology comes to the fore, becoming what David MayburyLewis (who went on from Harvard to become the president of Cultural Survival
Inc.) called a special sort of pleading (in Hedican 1995: 73).
FACILITATING CROSS-CULTURAL
COMMUNICATION
Sometimes special pleading articulates the concerns of a group who may
otherwise
not be heard. For instance, Jacqueline Solway works in Botswana as an advocate
for
minority language groups who, even in a peaceful multi-party democracy, remain
somewhat disenfranchised. By communicating the realities of their lives to
decision
makers in the political arena, her work seeks ways to assist the state in becoming
more inclusive to these groups (Solway 2004).
Elizabeth Grobsmith works with Native-American inmates in prisons in Nebraska
who, although their community comprises only 1 per cent of the population as a
whole, make up 4 per cent of the prison population. Her work began in the
1970s,
when the courts upheld prisoners rights to religious freedom and education, and
she was employed to teach a programme in American Indian studies. As she
says,
prisoners stand to profit both from an academic perspective and from the
increased
self-respect which education affords. Their culture gains credibility by being the
subject of a prison college class (Grobsmith 2002: 166). Thus she was able to
allay
the authorities anxieties about religious practices, such as pipe smoking:
The contribution of the anthropologist can be great here, serving as a consultant
to correctional authorities and guiding them as to the legitimacy and meaning
of these religious practices. Absence of regular training programs and turnover
of employees result in ignorance and insensitivity on the part of correctional
officers and continual mistakes which prisoners deeply resent . . . Anthropological

expertise is of benefit not because the inmates are incapable themselves of
explaining their traditions. Rather the use of an outside expert or consultant
affords legitimacy to the entire process. (Grobsmith 2002: 167)
Grobsmith was also involved in the design of treatment programmes to tackle

drug
and alcohol problems in the prison population, pointing out that the
consequences
of ignoring Native American prisoners needs is the ultimate return of most Indian
inmates to incarceration (Grobsmith 2002: 168). She advised the parole board
on
indigenous cultural approaches to rehabilitation, and acted as an expert witness
in
disputes on prisoners rights.
There is a tremendous need for anthropologists in correctional affairs. With the
largest number of inmates representing minorities, and correctional staff rarely
representative of those same groups, anthropologists are frequently sought as

liaisons, cultural resources persons, and simply savvy outsiders who can help
minority individuals interact with the complex, legal world in which they live.
Correctional authorities benefit from this interaction as well, through improved
inmate-staff relationships, decreased litigation, and prison accreditation
standards which reward institutions that permit and cooperate with research.
(Grobsmith 2002: 170)
As she concludes: few activities are more satisfying than helping to mend an
intercultural communication network that has broken down (Grobsmith 2002:
171).
Communication problems have been similarly central to Barbara Jones advocacy
work with Native-American Bannock and Shoshoni women. When some of the
women were prosecuted for withholding information from social services, her
research showed that cultural misunderstandings had occurred because of
different
usages of English by the women, and by the social services staff. The presiding
Judge
ruled that the women were innocent, and that, in the future, an interpreter
should
be used to ensure clarity in communications (in Ervin 2005: 106).
Facilitating culturally appropriate forms of communication is also at the heart
of Kevin Avruch and Peter Blacks work on the role of anthropology in alternative
dispute resolution (ADR), which has become increasingly popular as an informal
alternative to legal action in America (Avruch and Black 1996). They point out
that
anthropology actually provided the inspiration for ADR, because some reformers
from within the legal profession read ethnography and thought they had found
the
perfect template for their reform: dispute resolution in tribal societies (Avruch
and
Black 1996: 50). Anthropologists themselves, however, have been quite critical of
the misuse of ethnography to construct an idealized image of tribal social life,
and of
the idea that particular methods of resolving disputes can simply be lifted from
one
cultural context and plonked down in another. As ADR has become entrenched in
American legal culture there have been increasing efforts to commodify and
export
it, and Avruch and Black note that for the modern ADR missionaries . . . a
concern
with possible cultural differences as having significant effects does not seem to
detain
them for very long (Avruch and Black 1996: 53). Their research examines
attempts
to introduce alternative dispute resolution in the Pacific island of Palau:
There is perhaps something ironic in bringing ADR, an ideological formation
partly inspired by misread ethnography . . . back to the sort of cultural setting
people . . . thought it came from in the first place. But to revel in that irony is
perhaps to underestimate the costs that such a disingenuous export can inflict . . .
It is important that if ADR is introduced to Palau, it be done in a manner that
makes good local sense. In our opinion, this is not something that can be written
in by consultants drawn from the American ADR community, no matter how
culturally sensitive they may be. Those designing ADR for Palau will do well
to predicate it on Palauan assumptions about conflict and its management,
assumptions that are part of Palauan culture . . . One way to ensure that this
happens is to put the design of the process firmly in Palauan hands . . . The
contribution that anthropological outsiders can make is to offer suggestions
about the design of the process. (Avruch and Black 1996: 549)
From their point of view, the greatest contribution anthropology can make to the
creation of a humane fit between ADR and Paluan society may lie in its insistence
on the importance of culture (Avruch and Black 1996: 47), and they have gone
on
to insist as best they can.
DEFENDING LIVELIHOODS AND

KNOWLEDGE
The importance of culture also underlies the work that Alexander Ervin does in
assisting rural farming communities in protecting their way of life. As he says:
The
industrialization of agriculture has long been a threat to rural North Americans. It
undermines the family farm and community, erodes rural self-sufficiency and
selfdetermination,
and can negatively affect health and the environment (Ervin 2005:
154).
Anthropologists have been speaking up for many decades about the social
effects
of industrialization in agriculture, beginning with Walter Goldschmidts work in
the 1940s. Goldschmidt compared two Californian farming communities: one was
largely dominated by factory farms owned by large corporations based
elsewhere.
The labour force was migratory and poor, and the local town had a high crime
rate.
The other community was largely composed of independent farmers. They
achieved
higher levels of production, had higher household incomes, and their local town
had prospering businesses, churches and family clubs. The research showed the
benefits of protecting community life in rural areas. However, disruptive patterns
of
development have often been repeated:
For rural peoples, the decline of community is reinforced by federal and state
agricultural policies that favor the goals and profit motives of major agribusiness
corporations in the supposed interests of efficiency and the untested assumption
that only industrialized agriculture can cheaply feed the world. (Ervin 2005:
1545)
Kendall Thu and Paul Durrenbergers research is similarly critical of the social
and ecological effects of industrial farming, showing how pig factories in Iowa
and
North Carolina created enormous stenches for miles, lowered property values and
impinged on social life, as well as polluting rivers, and damaging fish and
fisheries.
They provide an account of the social costs of these changes: the loss of family
farms;
the environmental and health risks; the greater uncertainties in employment; and
the
way that these pressures lead to social division and conflict. Kendall Thu
therefore
sees a clear need for research to lead to advocacy:
My applied work involves a strategy combining research with advocacy through
the media, public speaking, legislative testimony, expert witness work in the
courtroom, holding industries publicly accountable for co-opting science, work
with non-profit organizations and cooperation among community groups . . .
Research and advocacy are necessary partners. Science never has, nor ever will,
exist in a political vacuum. If we do not advocate based on the rigor of our
ethnographies, by default we have made a decision affecting the lives of those
whose knowledge provided for our professional careers. (Ervin 2005: 157)
In a contemporary context, one of the major issues in agriculture is the

introduction of genetically modified crops. Some of these carry terminator
genes
that, by preventing the plants from producing viable seeds for further crops,
make
the farmers heavily dependent on the large corporations that supply GM seed
and
the pesticides that these require. Genetically modified crops also marginalize
local
knowledge about plant breeding: for example, Glenn Stones work in India (Stone
2002, 2007) examines how the introduction of GM cotton has destablized local
knowledge and social exchange systems, placing immense pressure on farmers
and
leading to a rapid rise in the suicide rate among them (carried out, ironically, by
drinking pesticides). Stone (2007: 67) describes: . . . symptomatic disrupting of
the
process of experimentation and development of management skill. In fact,
Warangal
cotton farming offers a case study in agricultural deskilling [which] severs a vital
link
between environmental and social learning.
Plainly this work is important in the ongoing debates about GM crops, and in
wider concerns about the need to maintain local knowledges. This is both a
matter
of making sure that they are maintained through use, and protecting the
ownership
of this expertise. As well as having a way of life that they hope to protect, local
communities whether they farm or make a living from other economic modes
often have valuable ecological knowledge, and another area of advocacy in
anthropology
is concerned with the protection of intellectual property rights. Working for
the International Potato Center (which in Spanish is called the Centro
Internacional
de la Papa (CIP)), Robert Rhoades observes that with scientists and
pharmaceutical
and food corporations on the lookout for new plant breeding opportunities, the
topic
of ownership of plant genetic resources is an international minefield of
controversy
because it concerns profits, power and politics at the highest levels of
international
government (Rhoades 2005: 77). Since the mid-1980s, anthropologists have
assisted
local communities and the Centre in protecting indigenous intellectual property:
As the traditional curators of cultivated species . . . indigenous people have
become more aware of their own rights and their crucial role in conservation.
This connection between indigenous cultures and crop diversity has increased
the demand for anthropologists, especially ethnobotanists,1 in agricultural
research . . . Anthropological contribution to this area took place in several
ways. First, field-level studies demonstrated that farmers possessed a complex
folk nomenclature of native potatoes . . . Ethnobotanical studies provided
basic information on farmer selections to assist with the centers efforts . . . An
approach called memory banking pioneered by anthropologist Virginia Nazarea
. . . demonstrated how cultural knowledge should be conserved along with the
conventional gene bank passport data . . . Anthropologists have served on panels
and international commissions to encourage implementation of farmers rights
as a way to maintain germplasm diversity. An effort has been made to lobby
legislative bodies and get the message about genetic erosion and indigenous
cultures to the general public . . . Today several international centers including
the Rome-based International Plant Genetics Resources Institute employ
anthropologists and ethnobotanists to help guide participatory plant breeding
efforts involving both scientists and farmers. (Rhoades 2005: 768)
Industrial agriculture is one of the major stresses on indigenous landscapes, and

another is the widening global search for minerals and resources. As Alan
Rumsey
and James Weiner (2001) have shown, mining often heads the list of activities
that
have major social and ecological impacts on indigenous communities. Stuart
Kirsch
works on these issues in Papua New Guinea, where mining has been massively
destructive, and he draws attention to the role of transnational corporations in
this
infringement of human rights (Kirsch 2003). A committed advocate, he has
written
extensively about the indigenous communities protests against the destruction
of
their local ecosystems (and thus their livelihoods), and their collaborative use of
anthropological methods in trying to explain these realities and communicate
their
concerns to decision-makers (Kirsch 2006).2
HUMAN RIGHTS
Anthropologists have long been active as researchers and advocates in many
areas
concerned with human rights, including the most fundamental rights to safety,
and
to sufficient food and water (see Nagengast and Vlez-Ibez 2004). Thus John
Van
Willigen and V. C. Channa have conducted research on violence against women
in India, in particular as it relates to the cultural and religious practice of
requiring
brides families to provide dowry, which is a source of considerable conflict.
Attempts
to criminalize and legislate against this practice have been ineffective, and they
have
argued that policies directed against these social evils need to be constructed in
terms of an underlying cause rather than of the problem itself (Van Willigen and
Channa 1991: 117). Their in-depth ethnographic work therefore seeks to
illuminate
the causal factors, in the hope of assisting the development of more effective
measures
to ensure the safety of Hindu women.
The safety of women and children was also the focus of Penny Van Esterliks work
as an activist in the controversy surrounding corporations selling baby formula as
a substitute for breast milk in Third World countries (in Ervin 2005: 151). This
controversy flared up in the 1970s and 1980s, when Nestl found its market
share
in Western nations diminishing. There were major protests when it tried to open
new markets in countries where the lack of clean water and facilities for boiling
water sufficiently, as well as a lack of funds, made it a significant health risk
(quite
apart from the fact that the formula had been rejected in wealthier countries
because
of growing understandings about the better immunizing effects of breast milk).
Penny Van Esterik became a passionate advocate against this exploitation of
poorer
communities, and she argues that there are compelling reasons to participate in
advocacy causes. The breast-or-bottle controversy that she dealt with had a lot
at stake:
childrens health and levels of infant mortality; the relationships between mother
and child; processes of social change; peoples capacities to adapt; and a critical
issue
concerned with the power of nation-states and international corporations:
Scientific
knowledge, as provided by anthropologists and others, is valuable for these
battles.
A series of expert testimonies can be provided, sometimes for court cases,
sometimes
as part of public relations campaigns through the media or as preparation for
public
debates (Ervin 2005: 153).
Controversies about the selling of unsuitable or substandard goods in poorer
countries have grown since the Nestl issue, as have concerns about the
commercial
exploitation of disempowered groups. In the last decade, there has been growing
disquiet about the social and ecological costs of globalization, 3 and
anthropologists
are interested in it both as analysts of social movements,4 and as advocates for
groups
whose cultural and economic security is threatened by changes being wrought at
a
global level. Many work in the legal arena, bridging the gaps between indigenous
or specifically cultural ideas about law and moral order, and the national and
international legal frameworks that often override these (see Rodrguez-Piero
2005,
Toussaint 2004).
Counter-development movements are emerging as people resist the
appropriation
of their resources, and direct protests against globalization are springing up all
around
the world. As well as turning an anthropological eye on multinational
corporations,
June Nash (1979) has studied the rise of these resistance movements, occurring
most
particularly in places that have been marginalized in the reorganization of global
capital.
These are the areas that are becoming the center of dissent in day-to-day protests
against the dislocations and environmental contamination caused by global
enterprises. At the same time that populations are forced to migrate in search
of work, global enterprises are going underground, buried in the underworld of
dotcoms and obliterating their tracks with multiple conglomorate identities . . .
Anthropologists are by inclination and profession predisposed to study the
peripheral phenomena of everyday life everywhere in the world, and especially
in marginal areas. Our hidden bias for Third World perspectives is becoming
more explicit as the failure of modernity projects becomes explicit. With the
widening gap between rich and poor countries, regions, and people . . . many
of these formerly marginalized areas have become frontiers of the latest capitalist
advances, where we find indigenous people engaged in a fight for their territories
and their way of life. (Nash 2005: 177)
Nash focuses on people whose cultivated historical memories and everyday

lived
practices enable them to attest to ways of life that are alternatives to capitalism.
Many continue to practice collective lifeways and to relate to cosmic powers in
ways envisioned by their ancestors. These normative practices are not the result
of passivity, but rather the product of practiced resistance by those who have
experienced the trauma of conquest and colonization. (Nash 2005: 178)
LAND RIGHTS
Globalization is, of course, merely the latest development in a long process of

expansion by industrialized societies, which resulted in the colonization of many
parts
of the world in the 18th and 19th centuries. There was widespread appropriation
of
land owned by indigenous or less powerful groups, and this appropriation
continues
in the contemporary world with what many regard as economic colonialism. So,
as well as fighting to retain their rights to water and other resources, many
groups
are now battling to reclaim their land. Their hope is to regain the right to share in
its management and use, or at the least to be compensated for its loss. The
result
is a number of bitter conflicts over land and water rights in which, once again,
different cultural perspectives are a critical factor (see Trigger and Griffiths 2003.
Toussaint 2004). It is therefore unsurprising that this has become a major area of
activity in anthropology. As resources are sought in ever more remote areas of
the
globe, threatening the land and livelihoods of more and more communities, it is
likely that there will be an increasing need for cultural translators who can
mediate
between groups in conflict, and for advocates who can assist less powerful
groups in
defining and defending their rights.
Land is the key to the cultural and often even the physical survival of indigenous
peoples . . . If forced off their land, tribal societies can be physically annihilated.
They are in a sense cast adrift with no way to fend for themselves in an alien
society a common trend in the Americas as various nations seek to counteract
spiraling international debts by ruthless exploitation of their hinterlands. In these
circumstances indigenous populations come under immediate threat because of
an inability to maintain their land holdings in the face of vastly more powerful
settler populations that are apt to regard indigenous peoples claim to land as
inconclusive at best. (Maybury-Lewis 1985: 13740)
In Canada, when a major hydroelectric scheme was proposed at James Bay:

The anthropologists played various roles in aiding the Cree, such as training the
people to conduct their own research into land use, the harvesting of results,
possible impacts on trap lines, and so on. It was this sort of evidence that
became crucial support for the Cree claim that the hydroelectric proposal to
dam the northern rivers would have dire and irreparable consequences for their
subsistence way of life . . . The Programme in the Anthropology of Development
at McGill University provided a wide range of socio-impact studies of the
consequences of the hydroelectric project. These allowed the Cree to prepare
their case . . . [and] resulted in measures such as the James Bay and Northern
Quebec agreement, which set aside certain territories for the exclusive use of the
Cree, reserved some twenty-two species of fish and game for the exclusive use
of Cree people, and instituted a program for Native game wardens that enabled
the Cree to monitor the effects of the white mans incursion into their hunting
territories more effectively. (Hedican 1995: 1556)
Also in Canada, Elizabeth Mackay (2005) looks at how non-indigenous groups

resist the reclaiming of land by Native communities, and the difficult issues faced
by contemporary settler societies who find several generations of investment in
land challenged by recent claims. As David Trigger and Gareth Griffiths (2003)
have shown, similar issues confront Australian landholders, most particularly
since
the Native Title Act of 1993 which (after 200 years of European settlement)
acknowledged
Aboriginal peoples prior ownership of the land. In New Zealand too,
although the original Treaty of Waitangi continues to offer some protection to
indigenous ownership of land and resources, the control of land and water
remains
contentious, with particular angst emerging in recent years about the foreshore
and
seabed, and the ownership of the rivers.
RECONCILING LEGAL PLURALISM

Markus Weilenmann
Office for Conflict Research in Developing Countries, Rschlikon,

Switzerland
I run an independent consulting firm, the Office for Conflict Research in Developing
Countries and offer legal
anthropological consulting services to development agencies or NGOs, who operate
in Africa in the domains
of social and legal politics.
The bureaucratic state powers of Africa govern several cultures and states. There are
the pre-colonial orders
left behind by societies of foragers; simple or complex chieftancies; sacred kingdoms
and so on; and there is
the bureaucratic state model, imported by the European colonial powers such as
France, England, Germany
and Belgium, aimed at administering indigenous cultures through Western law. These
developments constitute
a long-lasting discrepancy between the official state law and diverse socio-cultural
ideas about justice.
The Consultancy Office analyses this conflict and suggests ways to mitigate the
negative implications of legal
pluralism. It has offered legal anthropological advice in Burundi (for Misereor,
International Alert, the Center
for Humanitarian Dialog and RCN Justice et Dmocracie), in Cameroon, Ethiopia,
Ghana, Ivory Coast, Malawi
and Senegal (all for GTZ), in the Democratic Republic of Congo (GTZ, Misereor and
the Evangelical Development
Service) and in Rwanda (for the Swiss Development Cooperation). In addition, regular
and systematic advice is
required by programme officers of various organizations, for the training of staff
members.
In many parts of the world aspirations to protect key habitat areas for
conservation
purposes are creating further pressure on indigenous ownership and use of land.
Anthropologists have been central to efforts to persuade conservation
organizations
that what they fondly imagine as uninhabited wilderness or pristine areas
have, in
fact, been inhabited by indigenous peoples for millennia, and that they need to
take
on board the cultural and economic needs of these communities.
An example is provided by Marcus Colchesters work. He made use of his
anthropological
training in becoming the Director of the Forest Peoples Programme of the
World Rainforest Movement and an Associate Editor of The Ecologist Magazine.
He
has helped to design international campaigns to draw attention to indigenous
rights
in Venezuela, and has received numerous awards for his scholarship and
activism.
There are currently some 100,000 officially recognized protected areas worldwide
covering as much as 12 per cent of the land surface of the planet. The
great majority of these areas are owned or claimed by indigenous peoples . . .
The emergence of indigenous peoples as a social movement and as a category
in international human rights law has contributed to conservation agencies rethinking
their approach . . . A new model of conservation can now be discerned
based on a respect for the rights of indigenous peoples and other bearers of
traditional knowledge. (Colchester 2004: 20)
Indigenous communities are not the only groups to find their way of life
threatened
by major conservation schemes. Sometimes local farmers find that common
land is seen as fair game for the creation of national parks. For example, Tracey
Heatherington (2005) has conducted research in rural Sardinia on the
controversies
surrounding the proposed creation of Gennargentu National Park. This required
local communities to contribute large areas of communal land to the project, and
when their protests about doing this were simply dismissed, she was able to help
them to build a more powerful case by showing that their love for the commons
rested on key cultural precepts that made a defence of the commons, in essence,
a
defence of their traditional values.
PARTICIPATORY ACTION
Anthropologists have a key role in contributing to a better understanding about
local forms of ownership and tenure, and peoples relationships with places. This
can be communicated in a variety of ways, many of which could be described as
participatory action research (PAR), which involves members of the community
in a collaborative research process that enables them to achieve their own aims:
Participatory Action Research (PAR) is a research strategy whereby the
community
under study defines the problem, analyzes it, and solves it. The people own the
information and may contract the services of academic researchers to assist in
this
process (Szala-Meneok and Lohfeld 2005: 52).
Such collaboration between local communities and anthropologists is becoming
more common, and anthropological training increasingly provides access to the
methods entailed. For example, medical anthropologist Patricia Hammer runs an
ethnographic methods training centre in the Peruvian Andes, which emphasizes
PAR methodologies, and enables students to engage in ongoing investigations in
local agricultural communities in relation to local issues around health, ecology,
biodiversity and community organization (Hammer 2008: 1).
Participatory action research is well suited to work on land and resource issues.
For example, along with many anthropological colleagues in Australia, I have
been
involved in the compilation of evidence for land claims. The methods used in this
context also have wider utility, as a way of recording important cultural
knowledge. I
have therefore spent much of my time with Aboriginal people in north
Queensland
doing cultural mapping,5 which involves travelling with the elders around their
country, much of which lies outside the reserve area held by the community, in
neighbouring national park areas and cattle stations. Cultural mapping entails
recording, in a variety of media, all of the information about each groups sacred
sites and important historic places, and their traditional knowledge about the
land
and its resources. This collaboration has resulted in a detailed collection of
cultural
information, which is now archived in the community, and provides a key
teaching
resource for younger generations, as well as a body of evidence for indigenous
claims
to the land. These are ongoing, but in the meantime the community has been
able
to negotiate a joint management agreement with the Queensland Parks and
Wildlife
Service, and to substantiate their ownership claims sufficiently to persuade local
graziers to co-sign Indigenous Land Use Agreements.
However, a fully successful land claim is a faint hope, at best, for most
indigenous
groups, and many have been displaced. Along with land appropriations, political
conflicts, environmental degradation and other pressures have created many
refugees
and economic migrants, and such groups often need support, most particularly
when they are forced to relocate to areas geographically and culturally distant
from
their own. There is often a useful role for anthropologists in providing advocacy
and
cultural translation for these communities. For example, Lance Rasbridge worked
with Cambodian refugees in Dallas, as a refugee outreach anthropologist for a
health organization:
My search for an applied position was in a large part a response to the profoundly
emotional experience of conducting research with refugees . . . the situation of
refugees demands involvement . . . I coordinated both the medical team and the
refugee clients and their sponsors and caseworkers, occasionally protecting one
from the other and often mediating between them. My role as a coordinator
frequently centers on compromise: sensitizing the agencies, medical providers,
and refugees to each others expectations and limitations . . . A common scenario
involves sensitizing the medical community to non-Western medical beliefs and
practices. (Rasbridge 1998: 289)
Jeffery MacDonald notes that there are approximately 20 million war refugees
living in the United States. He worked with Iu-Mien people from Laos, who had
fled to Oregon:
Like many refugee researchers, I soon became an applied anthropologist,
first providing services for the Iu-Mien. Later, I took a position in a refugee
resettlement social service agency, where I began to work with other Southeast
Asian ethnic communities, providing direct client services and training, doing
needs assessment research, and managing and designing culturally specific
programs for Southeast Asian refugees . . . As my reputation has grown in the
Southeast Asian community as an expert sympathetic to community needs . . .
I have had to take on the roles of advocate for individuals and of community
political activist. (Macdonald 2003: 309)
As these examples show, advocacy can take a variety of forms. At times it

becomes
very formal, for instance when anthropologists act as expert witnesses in the
legal
arena. This happens regularly in land claims, where they conduct research,
compile
evidence, and present this to the land claim court or tribunal. It is also becoming
a
more frequent role in relation to refugee communities. Thus Stephanie
SchwanderSievers, who had conducted lengthy ethnographic research in Albania and
Kosovo,
found herself much in demand as a cultural translator and expert witness in legal
cases involving asylum seekers people seeking political refuge from these
areas:
In both types of cases, I was asked to explain various issues involving Albanian
culture, either in a written report or, on some occasions, as an expert witness
in court during trial . . . I was usually asked to comment on the risks involved
if an asylum seeker were to be returned to his or her home country, and how
socio-cultural issues at home would affect that risk . . . Regarding criminal cases
I was often approached by police detectives during the criminal investigation
process . . . I was usually asked to explain . . . particular aspects of Albanian culture
and how these would give cultural sense to a violent deed and help explain
its motives . . . In legal procedures and in court, particularly in asylum cases,
individuals from different cultures and legal background come into contact.
Here the anthropologist both participates in, and observes, relations of power.
(Schwander-Sievers 2006: 20917)
ME AN EXPERT? ANTHROPOLOGY, THE LAW AND

ASYLUM-SEEKERS
Marzia Balzani
Roehampton University London
I never set out to be of any use in the world and made sure that my first degree was
completely non-vocational:
Latin and French literature to be precise. I spent my time lost in seventeenth-century
French drama, formulating
imperfect subjunctives, journeying through nineteenth-century bildungsromans and
perusing the poetry of the
Augustan age. Then I stumbled via the ancient Roman Lupercalia (an odd
wolverine ritual that even Cicero
found perplexing) across a discipline that studied the rituals of contemporary
peoples. My next few years
were sorted: I went off to study social anthropology.
From dead Latin to defunct Sanskrit was a short step, and the prospect of a few years
in India doing
fieldwork was too good an opportunity to miss. I headed to the desert state of
Rajasthan and hid out in dusty
archives and palaces talking to old men about the former glories of the Raj. This was
fieldwork on kingship,
an institution that no longer legally exists in India, and so my study of the past in the
present continued.
Although focused on rescuing dust-laden manuscripts from the ravages of time and
termites, I nonetheless
encountered all the usual issues that plague the world. There was the mistreatment
of women and children in
the form of domestic violence, and even the occasional sati (the ritual sacrifice of
widows on the funeral pyres

of their husbands). And in a country where half the population lives below the
poverty line, violence against
the poor and untouchable, and the denial of human rights was, inevitably, part and
parcel of everyday life.
On my return to the UK I found myself subjecting innocent anthropology students to
the intricacies of the
caste system, Hindu-Muslim violence, the glories of kinship charts and the wonders of
patrilateral parallel-cousin
marriage. My world was still mediated by text and the careful evaluation and
interpretation of differing versions
of the same reality.
Then, one day a colleague asked me to give a paper at a conference on violence
against women in
multicultural Britain. Despite protesting that I knew nothing worth repeating, I was
persuaded to offer an
anthropological perspective on domestic violence in British South Asian communities.
After my presentation on
honour crimes, a well-known professor came to talk to me, and my journey into
legal anthropology and the
writing of expert witness reports in asylum cases in the UK began.
In Britain refugees receive a very bad press. If the newspapers are to be believed all
crime, evil and
immorality (and no doubt global warming too) stem from this numerically rather
small group; the British never
commit any evil acts, and if we were to rid ourselves of these money-grubbing,
welfare-scrounging foreigners,
the country would become an idyllic utopia. My work with refugees, however, leads
me to think of most asylum
seekers as unfortunate people who have managed to survive some appalling
experiences.
When individuals seek refuge in Britain they are interviewed, and have to provide
evidence to justify their
requests to remain here. This evidence has to show that they have been persecuted,
and also why they would
risk further persecution if were forced to return to their country of origin. Many
asylum claims are rejected,
and a Letter of Refusal from the Home Office explains why. Asylum seekers can
appeal against the decision, and
solicitors acting on their behalf ask experts to prepare reports explaining to the
Asylum Immigration Tribunals
why a case should be reconsidered.
Anthropologists are consulted when it seems that a cultural explanation might be of
use. For example, if
a woman is widowed and has reason to fear for her life in Pakistan, she might seek
leave to remain in the
United Kingdom with her naturalized British brother. This was the situation in one of
the first legal expert
reports I produced, for a woman who had witnessed a serious crime and was at risk
from the family of those
convicted. Not only was the strong documentary evidence of persecution rejected as
not accepted the Home
Office also considered that the right to family life did not mean that adult siblings
should be allowed to join
each other. It was held that the kinship bond between an adult sister and brother was
not a primary one, and

that the widow in question should therefore return to Pakistan. If her life was in
danger in her own home,
then she should simply move to a different city. After all Pakistan is a big country.
My report showed how, from an early age, brothers and sisters in Pakistan are raised
to behave in culturally
prescribed ways, with the understanding that as they get older the sister will not
bring dishonour to the brother,
and the brother will undertake to help his sister in later life. This is a close bond,
much more pronounced
than in the UK. I was able to demonstrate that women in Pakistan do not usually live
alone, and that those
compelled to do so are vulnerable to exploitation and harm. Armed with cultural
knowledge, my report set out
why, in this particular case, it was not safe for this woman to return to her home.
Other cases I have worked on include those of persecuted religious minorities such as
Christians and Ahmadis
in Pakistan, and Muslim women who have married Hindu men in India. Some require
knowledge of customary
practices, particularly where the violence is gender-based. The Home Office may say
that women can return to
their country of origin and go to crisis centres, but the reality is that many are killed
long before they can
ever get to these, and even the centres may not protect them from further abuse.
Further, some legal systems
punish as a crime behaviour that in the UK would be considered only a moral failing.
For example, a married
woman who commits adultery in Britain may be considered foolish, may annoy her
husband, or may find that
her behaviour generates gossip. In Pakistan, however, such a lapse is not simply a
private matter: it is a crime
that can land a woman in prison and end with a potential death sentence. In such
cases, my knowledge of
the legal system can make this risk clear to an asylum judge. Then all I can do is to
hope that the judge
makes the right decision.
One thing I must never do as an expert is to say if I think a case is true or not. All I
am expected to
do is to assess the plausibility of any particular asylum claim in the context of my
knowledge of the country
and the position of the individual making the asylum claim. The judges are expected
to decide on the truth of
the case. My work is to produce an account, a narrative of events, and to interpret
these in the light of what
I know as an anthropologist. This is where my earlier years of translation, novel
reading, and sorting through
archives of overlapping but never quite matching accounts of events, has finally
turned me into: someone who
is, from time to time, of use to others.
Advocacy is thus an expanding part of anthropological activity, which draws

directly upon the disciplines strengths: in seeking a deep understanding of other
cultural realities; in translating this between groups, and in ensuring that
research
is underpinned by ethical considerations and a concern for social justice. In the
contemporary discipline it is plain that there is a continuing role for the scholar
as
activist, and as the issues change and develop, so too does this role (see RylkoBauer
et al. 2006).
2 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
AID
CROSSING BOUNDARIES
The in-depth knowledge about particular groups and societies that ethnographic
research provides means that anthropologists are potentially very useful advisers
for
international organizations, whose work crosses cultural as well as national
boundaries.
For example, there is growing involvement of anthropologists in government
agencies: in ministries of foreign affairs, diplomatic services, and in organizations
such as UNESCO or the World Health Organisation. There is especially a need for
the skills and insights of anthropology in the governmental and nongovernmental
organizations (NGOs) that try to assist people suffering from famine, poverty or
ill-health, or from human rights abuses, conflicts or persecution. In the latter
areas
it is sometimes difficult to discern a dividing line between work that might be
described as advocacy, and that which is more directly focused on providing aid
and
assistance.
In areas concerned with food and water provision, or in the alleviation of poverty,
there are frequent overlaps between the provision of aid and the encouragement
of
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d a i d 27
development. As the next chapter shows, they share many common issues.
However,
there is a fundamental difference between helping people in trouble and
changing
the way that they live. This chapter therefore focuses on humanitarian activities
that
simply aim to help when things go wrong.
There are many governmental and non-governmental agencies involved in aid:
the latter often receive government funding, and the former increasingly contract
work out to independent or semi-independent agencies. However, although most
governments remain involved in the provision of aid to some extent, in the last
few
decades there has been a rapid proliferation of non-governmental aid
organizations,
not just internationally, but also at national, regional and local levels. In many
instances these have taken up tasks that were formerly the direct responsibility
of
governments, creating a set of alternative institutional arrangements.
There is already a whole NGO culture in the world, with its characteristic
symbolism . . . behavioural patterns . . . and a special type of leadership . . . NGOs
develop clustered networks within which there are hierarchies and competition,
especially for sources of funding. The best known among the biggest global
NGO networks are social volunteer, child protectionist, human rights, ethnocultural
and peacemaking ones, although every country and every region has its
particularities. (Tishkov 2005: 11)
AID AND AMBIGUITY
The large-scale shift from government agencies to NGOs represents a major

social
change, which is in itself of interest to anthropologists, raising many questions
about
whether these new institutions assist or inhibit effective governance and
democracy.
Some analysts have argued that the sharp increase in the number and scale of
NGO
organizations is an outcome of peoples disillusionment with formal governance
and
bureaucracy, and an attempt to return democratic power to citizens.
Nongovernmental organisations are now considered heavyweight actors in the
global political arena, as well as in many local and national ones. This reputation
has arrived at a time when professional political actors, such as parties and
governments, have fallen into disrepute. NGOs are valued because they are
viewed as legitimate representatives of civil society . . . in a wide variety of issues.
(Acosta 2004: 1)
Other anthropologists observe that NGOs are unelected, sometimes

circumventing
and thus potentially undermining democratic processes, empowering elites,
or allowing governments to abdicate responsibilities for issues that have
traditionally
fallen squarely within their remit. Claus Leggewie (2003) has commented that
although social movements can provide useful inputs to mainstream politics,
their
lack of a democratic mandate raises questions about their legitimacy, even when
some
actively promote democracy, and William De Mars (2005), describing them as
wild
cards, notes that they change the whole context in which governance happens.
Every situation is different. For example, Celayne Shresthas research shows that
there were only 250 NGOs in Nepal in 1989, but then, after a more democratic
government was instituted in 1996, NGO numbers jumped to 5,978 within a
year, as groups saw an opportunity to break with a state that had long been seen
as corrupt and self-serving: For the intelligentsia, as well as many frontline NGO
workers, NGOs offered an opportunity to break with corrupt, personalistic
modes
of appointment and promotion and access to services (Shrestha 2006: 195).
But Valery Tishkov, whose work is concerned with NGOs in post-Soviet Russia,
warns that NGOs cannot be assumed to be an unambiguous reflection of
democratic
aspirations: Some pursue hopelessly separatist agendas. Others perform foreign
policy functions a state finds inconvenient to accomplish directly. Others install a
benevolent colonialism complete with local westernized bourgeoisies (Tishkov
2005: 1).
As he points out: whatever the agenda of an NGO or its impacts on the people
involved, being unelected: a voluntary organisation is practically impossible to
abolish (Tishkov 2005: 6). Steve Sampson, who has analysed the recent
activities of
Western NGOs in the Balkans, is similarly dubious about their effects, suggesting
that in this instance they created a new kind of project elite that led to a
rejection
of Western aid, stirring up local nationalists and weakening the post-Yugoslav
states
(Sampson 2003).
So there are many complex questions about the aims of international aid
organizations:
what are their effects on the functions of government? Who actually
benefits from their efforts? What are the social and cultural costs of aid-based
relationships? What political and ideological values are being promulgated in the
process? By addressing these under-the-surface questions, anthropologists have
sought to look beyond comfortable everyday assumptions about aid, and to make
deeper analyses of relationships between NGOs and the recipients of their
efforts.
There are often major disparities in power in these relationships, and part of the
task of anthropologists and other social scientists is to reveal these dynamics.
Thus
Alnoor Ebrahims research focuses on the way that power relations are
maintained
through public discourses:
A discourse is a specific and historically produced way of looking at the world
and is embedded within wider relations of power power that is manifest, for
example, in the scientific expertise of development economists, professionals,

and expatriates that serve as advisers, funders and consultants to Southern
Governments and NGOs. (Ebrahim 2003: 1314)
Whether anthropologists choose to work directly with groups, or to seek funding

from the (relative)1 freedom of a university post, they still have to deal with a
slightly
tricky reality: that their work is also reflexive and thus potentially critical of their
host/funding organization and its activities. Focusing their analytic skills on the
dynamics of interactions between groups, anthropologists have therefore tended
to
have a cautious relationship with government agencies and NGOs alike. In
essence,
they hope to retain sufficient independence that they can balance a desire to put
their skills to good use in helping people with an honest appraisal of the complex
political and economic realities of aid/development relationships. Clearly this is
an
area in which some diplomatic skills are helpful, and of course some
organizations
welcome and recognize the benefit of reflexive feedback. There is also
considerable
scope for researchers to define their own roles and activities in projects:
Not all development projects are bad, and . . . there is some room for applied
anthropologists to determine the role they play within them . . . The applied
anthropologist can become one of the few avenues through which poor
rural people have their needs and perceptions communicated to the wealthy
and powerful designing and implementing projects, both international and
national . . . I do not deny the politics of representation embedded in the
development process, nor that by working on a project I am placed within this
specific field of power relations. However, some development projects benefit
local people regardless of how flawed the epistemological ground from which
they have grown. (Grace 1999: 125)
Jocelyn Graces experience as a consultant in Indonesia showed her that the

recipients of aid are rarely passive subjects, and often have considerable agency
in directing the process: Women in rural Indonesia want nearby and clean water
supplies, and do not want their babies to die within a week of being born, or their
children to suffer polio or Hepatitis B. They take what they want from such
projects,
and ignore or reject what they do not want (Grace 1999: 1278).
These examples suggest two major roles for anthropologists in relation to
international and national governmental and non-governmental aid agencies.
One
is to step back a bit and examine the social, economic and political realities of
the
interactions between agencies and the recipients of aid; and the other is to give
more
direct assistance to organizations that they feel are genuinely trying to help
people
in need.
NGO-GRAPHY
Exploring the interactions between aid agencies and recipients has a number of
potentially useful outcomes. Greater transparency leads to better informed
decision
making and illuminates the different perspectives of the parties involved,
assisting
communication between them. Researchers in the Department of Anthropology
at
Durham University, for example, have a collective research project concerned
with
NGOs in Ghana and India. Their work explores the different perspectives of the
state, the NGOs and the donors, and looks at the impact of their relationships on
the poverty eradication programmes that have become the major focus on NGO
activity in those areas (Alikhan et al. 2007).
In Ifugao, in the Philippines, anthropologist Lynn Kwiatkowski considers similar
questions at an international level, examining the interactions between
transnational
organizations and local communities:
Some of these global institutions have financially supported, and in some cases
directed, local non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that seek to improve
the conditions of everyday life in Philippine communities . . . I discuss some
of the cultural issues, political contestations, and contradictions that can arise
ANTHROPOLOGY SHOULD BE APPLIED

Mary-Ellen Chatwin
Minority Community Advisor, USDA
I have applied training in the anthropology of food to research the eating habits of
students at a polytechnic
university in Switzerland: this was to help the local health office to ensure that
students have access to a
better diet. I also carried out a study on women and how they try to get back to work
after stopping, for
the City of Lausannes Employment office. I have studied organizations for the
Institute for Life and Peace (in
Sweden), examining their effectiveness in programming for returning displaced
persons after conflict. I became
involved in this kind of work when I happened to be in the Caucasus during the
armed conflicts. Then the
Secours Populaire Francais (a French aid organization) asked me to head their food
distribution program. That
is how I started hands-on development work.
Anthropological input is often appreciated by local populations and communities, as
they immediately
realize that a special kind of understanding is there, which is not the case in the
usual development style of
interventions. Anthropology should be applied at a national level to all development
programmes that intend
to make changes in the lives of countries in need (such as disaster relief, poverty
reduction, and programmes
for vulnerable communities and the elderly).
for progressive NGOs working in cultural communities, or among indigenous
cultural groups, as the NGOs operate within a broader context of national and
international political and economic processes. (Kwiatkowski 2005: 1)
Sometimes as well as looking at the bigger picture an anthropological

perspective
on the internal dynamics of institutions is useful and anthropologists have
begun to do more close-up ethnographic work within NGO organizations. Thus
Latitia Atlani-Duault spent ten years amongst aid workers, studying them and
their
state and non-state partners, as they attempted to export democracy to postsoviet
countries of Central Asia and the Caucasus. This close ethnographic engagement
not
only gave her an understanding of the realities of their lives, but also enabled her
to step back and consider the wider political implications of their activities
(AtlaniDualt 2007).
This kind of work draws on a well established area of anthropology concerned
with organizational analysis, initiated by Elton Mayos work on human relations
in industry in the 1920s (in Roethlisberger and Dickson 1939), Sue Wrights early
research on the Anthropology of Organisations (Wright 1994) and Mary Douglass
work
on How Institutions Think (Douglas 1987). Many anthropologists are involved in
this
kind of work today. Alberto Corsin-Jimnez, for example, has long-term research
interests in the anthropology of organizations, in particular the moral projects of
capitalist organizations and the way that ethical and moral issues are negotiated
in purportedly ethically conscious institutions. As he says, the institutionalisation
of power has been a central concern of the anthropology of organisations from its
earliest days (Corsin-Jimnez 2007: xiii).
This kind of approach is well suited to the NGO-graphy being undertaken at the
International NGO Training and Research Centre (INTRAC). Under INTRACs

aegis, Celayne Shrestha has investigated the everyday informal dimensions of
NGO
life in Nepal; Janet Townsend has considered the different discourses encountered
in
stateNGO relationships in south India; and, in the same region, James Staples
has
used ethnographic examples to show
. . . how an NGOs official intentions are regularly subverted wilfully or otherwise
by the competing political and personal interests of various stakeholders,
often with unpredictable consequences. Although this disparity between official
intention and what actually happens is often blamed for the NGOs failures
. . . it is only the continued miscommunication between stakeholders and the
co-existence of multiple ideas about what the NGO is for that allows the
organisation to function at all. (INTRAC 2007: 1)
Charlotte Hursey points out that there is still comparatively little analysis of
NGOs and a real need for this kind of work: Although ethnographic approaches
have been applied to the study of the management and structures of private and
public organisations, there are still comparatively few detailed accounts of the
internal lives of non-governmental and civil society organisations, especially at
the
local level (in INTRAC 2007: 3).
However, this is changing rapidly: In recent years the subfield of political
anthropology, NGO-graphy (i.e., the ethnography of NGOs), has dramatically
expanded as anthropologists have begun to examine the work of NGOs (Iskanian
in INTRAC 2007: 34).
ASSISTING AID
Many anthropologists are keen to assist aid agencies directly, and their
professional
associations have often encouraged their members to make use of their skills in
this
way. Some years ago the Royal Anthropological Institute created the Lucy Mair
Medal of Applied Anthropology, which recognizes excellence in using
anthropology
for the relief of poverty or distress, or for the active recognition of human
dignity. An
obvious area of application is concerned with the provision of food and medical
aid
in times of famine or other forms of disruption (such as earthquakes and
tsunamis).
Anthropologists have sometimes taken the initiative in offering their skills in this
regard. For example, in 1984, the American Association of Anthropologists (AAA)
set up a Task Force on African Hunger, Famine and Food Security:
The premise behind providing rosters of anthropologists knowledgeable about
Africa and hunger problems, and symposia and publications on their ideas and
methods, is that anthropologists offer unique perspectives and capabilities that
might improve performance of intergovernment (IGO) and nongovernment
organizations (NGOs) that monitor and respond to hunger problems. (Messer
1996: 241)
Even perhaps especially in times of famine, a systemic view is useful, and

anthropologists think carefully about how food is managed within societies and
how
this can be assisted and optimized.

Food systems research addresses potentially all aspects of food procurement and
consumption strategies . . . It is useful for the community and donors offering
and delivering food aid programs, or development programs more generally,
to have better understandings of the objectives of the aid community. (Messer
1996: 243, 255)
As a member of the AAA Task Force, Art Hansen has stressed the need for
research
that engages with local complexities:
Our original mandate was to work out better ways to utilize anthropologists
and anthropological knowledge to help Africa and Africans during that major
famine. Our concern at the time was that the planners and staff of assistance
programs often had little appreciation or knowledge of how Africans helped
themselves. That ignorance could result in assistance being less effective or, at
worst, becoming itself a secondary disaster. (Hansen 2002: 263, 273)
Hansens work highlights some of the dangers of short-term introduced solutions,

and the reality that even apparently local communities and economies are
always
subject to external pressures. Working with villagers in north-eastern Zambia, he
observed that their intense cultivation of cassava had enabled them to absorb a
rapid population increase with an influx of refugees, but then an invasion of the
cassava mealybug destroyed the cassava and triggered a famine. Some major
changes
in agriculture and technology followed, and the community became increasingly
reliant on maize and the expensive fertilizers needed to grow it. This reliance led
to further famine: Sustainability and famine are complex conditions, created and
influenced by political, economic and ecological factors. Apparent sustainability
can
be fragile, and locally self-sufficient sustainability is a fragile illusion. Localities
are
not isolated and self-sufficient; they are incorporated and vulnerable (Hansen
2002:
2612).
DEALING WITH DISPLACEMENT

The loss of land and thus livelihood to other groups is only one cause of
population displacement. Famines and floods can create large numbers of
refugees,
as can political conflicts, environmental degradation, urban expansion, economic
pressures and large-scale infrastructural developments (such as dams). Where
refugees arrive without resources in refugee camps or in other countries there
is
a need for humanitarian aid, which, like other forms of assistance, can be
delivered
most effectively when there is an understanding of the recipients cultural beliefs
and
values.
It is also critical to appreciate the effects of displacement and migration. Michael
Cernea defines eight basic problems that can arise when people are displaced:
landlessness, joblessness, homelessness, marginalization, food insecurity,
increased
morbidity, loss of access to common property resources, and social
disarticulation
(Cernea 2000: 19). Resettlement schemes can be very inadequate: for example,
Satish Kedia and John Van Willigen (2005) observe that when dams were built on
the Amazon, many communities located in its river valleys were left to fend for
themselves further upriver and along the trans-Amazon highway, with
consequent
disease outbreaks (malaria and leishmaniasis) and the breakdown of formerly
stable
social communities.
An appreciation of the effects of displacement is particularly important when
refugees or economic migrants move to countries very different from their own,
and
many anthropologists work with ethnic minorities located in societies far from
their
homelands.
For example, drawing on experience as an advisor to the Overseas Development
Agency,2 Katy Gardner (2002) has worked with Bengali elders in East London,
exploring their experiences of migration to the UK, and the implications this has
for their management of ageing and illness. Margaret Gibson (1988) looked at
the
experiences of the children of Sikh immigrants in an American high school, and
Aihwa Ong has investigated the cultural changes taking place in diasporic
Chinese
communities around the world: Today, overseas Chinese are key players in the
booming economies of the Asia Pacific region. In what ways have their
bordercrossing
activities and mobility within the circuits of global capitalism altered their
cultural values? (Ong 2002: 173).
Migrant communities of a very different kind are the focus of Christopher Griffins
(2008) work. He first used his anthropological training in a post as the warden of
Westway, a permanent encampment in west London, used by travellers and
gypsies.
Here, alongside his job as the caretaker of the site, he was able to conduct longterm
ethnographic fieldwork, and to write extensively about the history of the gypsies,
their lives as nomads, their narratives of migration, and their sometimes difficult
experiences of race relations.3
UNDERSTANDING RACE AND RACISM

The cultural understandings provided by anthropology are particularly important
in
understanding issues around race and racism, and a number of practitioners
work
in agencies devoted to upholding human rights and encouraging cross-cultural
tolerance. Ideas about race are often implicit in ethnic or religious conflicts,
and
there is a widespread need for anthropological skills in resolving the extreme
intergroup
conflicts that occur across national, cultural, political and religious boundaries
(see Wolfe and Yang 1996).
Conflict resolution depends heavily on understanding and so tolerating the
other. Jane Cowan, for example, works with Bulgarian minorities in Greece and
the former Yugoslavia, where she looks at human rights issues, examining the
way
that international mechanisms such as the League of Nations supervise treaties
and deal with minorities claims for rights to difference and independence
(Cowan
2000). She explores the sometimes tense interactions between civic
organizations,
revolutionaries, minority claimants, international bureaucrats, diplomats, NGOs
and the media. Her work facilitates better communication and understanding
between these parties, and thus assists in the resolution of conflicts.
In racial and other conflicts anthropologists have an important public role in
challenging the essentializing stereotypes that perpetuate conflicts. Religious
differences often provide a putative basis for conflicts, and anthropologists have
gone to considerable lengths to make visible the more complex social, political
and
economic factors that sit under the surface of these. Jonathan Benthall (2002),
for
example, has focused on the politics of aid in the Muslim world, and the
emergence
of religious NGOs, studying the ideas and practices of charitable work in Muslim
cultures, and the political and religious forces that shape it. Hastings Donnan
(2002)
has also considered how Islamic cultures are represented, as well as conducting
extensive research on the long-running religious conflicts in Ireland (Donnan
and
McFarlane 1989), and his ethnographic insights have been useful in presenting a
more subtle view of inter-group relations.
In a contemporary world, ideas about terrorism have come to the fore. Daniele
Moretti (2006: 13) suggests that anthropologists can be useful in this area in
several
ways: by drawing on their fieldwork experience in areas or with groups that
appear
to be the source of terrorist activities;4 by considering the ways that terrorism is
represented in the political arena, and in the media; and by contributing to
analyses
of the causes and effects of terrorism. Just such an analysis has been undertaken
by Mary Douglas and Gerald Mars (2007), whose collaborative research considers
the factors that lead (or enable) dissident minorities to create political enclaves
and
generate terrorist activities.
Obviously, although there are various places in which terrorism occurs, the major
focus in the last decade has been on Muslim cultural groups, both in Islamic
regions
and as minorities elsewhere. Anthropologists have been called upon to close the
culture gap by:
(1) providing Western audiences with a nuanced picture of the complexity and
flexibility of Islam and Muslim culture . . . (2) exposing the socio-economic
and political processes that foster Islamic extremism and terrorism . . . and (3)
demonstrating that Muslim and Western culture are not as radically different
as some appear to believe and that either is just as capable of tolerance and
extremism as the other. (Moretti 2006: 14)
Moretti does not comment on the potential for Muslim anthropologists to perform
similar tasks, but clearly in an international discipline such as anthropology

there is scope in all countries for researchers to offer more informed views of
other
societies. Morettis own fieldwork has been conducted in Oceania, where many
small
nations receive US aid, and have expressed support for its war on terror.
However,
each has its own perspective on the issues. In Papua New Guinea, for example:
Reports on terrorism and the war on terror were followed and debated with
concern. In these discussions, some claimed to be supportive of the terrorists,
who they regarded as freedom fighters engaged in a just war of liberation. For
many more, the Americans and their allies had no business invading Iraq . . . With
a local history of colonialism which included over five decades of exploitation,
land alienation and natural resource pillage at the hands of other Western
powers, it was not that hard to see why many could sympathise with the Iraqis
and Osama, who they saw as Iraqs foremost protector against the West.
Yet, in spite of such apparently widely held sympathy for their struggle, the
terrorists were viewed with a degree of ambiguity and anxiety. (Moretti 2006:
14)
Birgit Bruchlers research on Islamist groups in Indonesia is concerned with the

way that fundamentalist ideas are disseminated and promoted through
cyberspace:
The Internet has become an important instrument for the information politics
of radical Muslim groups . . . The Communication Forum of the Followers of the
Sunnah and the Community of the Prophet (FKAWJ) . . . sent its fighters, the
so-called Laskar Jihad or Jihad troop/fighters, to Ambon in April 2000 to help
their Muslim brothers against the Christian attackers in the Moluccan conflict
a conflict that was also extended into cyberspace by several actors . . . Through
these strategies the cyber actors create an image and construct an identity that is
congruent with their offline philosophy but extends its reach. (Bruchler 2004:
267)
As these examples make plain, the resolution of conflicts around the world, and
the alleviation of poverty and disease depends heavily on work that enables
crosscultural
understanding. Sadly, there is much that needs to be done in this area,
but those who undertake this kind of work can at least feel that what they do is
worthwhile, and hope that it makes a difference.
3 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
DEVELOPMENT
CRITIQUING DEVELOPMENT
The anthropology of development has much in common with the anthropology of
aid. It often requires interdisciplinary collaborations, and almost invariably entails
interactions between different cultural groups. A consequent need for crosscultural
translation has long made development a major area of interest for
anthropologists.
As with the provision of aid they are also wont to analyse and critique the process
of development, as well as providing assistance in various parts of that process
with international agencies, governments and the recipients of these
organizations
developmental efforts. However, although there is a great deal of overlap
between these
areas, a key difference is that while the provision of aid is not necessarily
intended to
do more than restore a (presumably) faltering status quo, the fundamental
principle
of development is one of initiating change (see Olivier de Sardan 2005). So
although
like aid development is generally presented as dealing with a problem that
needs
solving, or a condition that needs to be cured, it is more accurately defined as a
synonym for more or less planned social and economic change (Hobart 1993: 1).
Development has often been linked to, or equated with modernisation; that is
the
transformation of traditional societies into modern ones, characterised by
advanced
technology, material prosperity and political stability (Hobart 1993: 5).
The idea of development therefore rests on an assumption that there are
technological, material and political goals to which all societies should aspire,
and
that wealthier countries should assist others in attaining these. It is hard to fault
this
principle, on the face of it, particularly when many groups around the world are
plainly struggling even to subsist, but there are some important questions to ask.
Quite apart from the pragmatic reality that aspirational lifestyles that consume a
lot
of energy and resources are not sustainable in ecological terms, even for a
minority of
the worlds people (and we have yet to address that problem successfully), there
are
more complex questions about the values being presented as ideals and the
social
and cultural costs of transforming traditional ways of life into a more
homogenous
modern vision reliant on constant economic growth and industrial modes of
production.
Development is a largely European and American idea which emerged in the
postwar
era (Arce and Long 1999: 5). Attitudes and policy were based on assumptions
about the superiority of nations that had successfully modernized themselves,
and
backward or underdeveloped countries were described as the Third World,
representing
an earlier stage of technological inferiority and ignorance. Development
would help them to catch up. The implication was that local traditions were a
bar to
progress and should be discarded, and a developmentalist relationship was
created
with Third World countries, requiring that they replicate European and American
models (Escobar 1995).
Because anthropologists work with a variety of cultural groups, they are keenly
aware that there are many alternatives to this dominant model, and as social
analysts they also observe that there are some highly differential power
relationships
involved in development and, at times, some rather less than altruistic aims.
Because the prevailing rhetoric is of altruistic concern for the less fortunate, it is
useful to remember that development is big business . . . In one form or another,
development is very profitable not just to the western industries involved, but
to those parts of governments which receive aid, let alone to development
agencies. And the giving of development aid and the extension of markets for
manufactured products is more than balanced by the processes . . . by which the
countries to be developed make up the major source of cheap raw materials and
labour. Less obviously, the idea of underdevelopment itself, and the means to
alleviate the perceived problem, are formulated in the dominant powers account
of how the world is. (Hobart 1993: 2)
An important aspect of the anthropology of development is to:
do what Laura Nader recommended more than a decade ago, which is to study
up and look at larger organizations, processes and policies . . . Development
anthropologists are also challenged to learn the languages of policymakers and
macroeconomists, whose economic reform and investment programs are having
far-reaching impacts in many areas of the world where we work and study.
(Little 2005: 53)
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d d e v e l o p m e n t 39
In the early days of anthropological involvement in development, it was more

readily assumed that this work assisted an altruistic enterprise, although
anthropologists
such as David Pitt (1976) provided a bottom-up perspective on what was
then a very top-down process. Jocelyn Grace, who has worked with government
agencies in Australia and the United States, was an early commentator on the
dilemma of participating in what has been described as a western imperialist
enterprise (in Escobar 1991: 659):
A bank-teller recently asked me what I did at university. When I explained that
I did research on maternal and infant health in rural Indonesia, she asked: Is
it any use? . . . This is one of the attractions of working in development, as it
seems to offer an opportunity to put knowledge to use in effecting some positive
change in the real world. However, this is a rosy and naive view of development,
and of the anthropologists role within it. (Grace 1999: 124)
With the rise of more market-driven ideologies, a more analytic view of the
development
process is emerging and an important part of what anthropologists bring to
the field of development as they do to the area of aid and other fields is a
critical
analysis about larger social and political process in which it takes place. This
involves
examining what is actually going on between the parties involved, deconstructing
the
rhetoric and the ways that groups are represented, observing what actually
happens
to resources, and making visible the underlying dynamics. This critique has been
immensely useful in engendering a much greater awareness of the complex
issues in
this area (see Nolan 2002, Mosse 2005, Mosse and Lewis 2005).
DEVELOPING AN UNDERSTANDING
Yongjun Zhao
Adviser, DFID China

I work as the institutional and sustainable livelihoods adviser for the UK Department
for International
Development (DFID) in Beijing, China. My job is to provide high-quality advice on
institutional development and
governance issues for key programmes in rural development, rural water supply and
sanitation, water resources
management, fiscal reform and China in transition policies.
Having trained in anthropology and environmental studies I make use of
anthropological theory and practice
in my work. Anthropological critiques of development and governance in the
development industry have been
valuable in enabling my understanding of how institutions and governance can be of
crucial importance to the
achievement of donor objectives. As an adviser, I try to make an anthropological
critique of government policy
and development practice, and so assist in building effective partnerships between
government, donor agencies,
civil society and other organizations.
IN DEVELOPMENT
Anthropologists are also closely involved in development activities, and making

the
underlying realities visible is equally vital at a local level. Alberto Arce and
Norman
Long (1999: 2) suggest that there is a desperate need for empirical,
ethnographically
informed research inputs, to articulate local realities and communicate these to
development agencies. These inputs are critical at each stage: in creating
appropriate
designs for projects; in ensuring that they are carried out with an appreciation of
local cultural beliefs and values; and in evaluating their progress and outcomes.
SUPPORTING A GRASSROOTS APPROACH

Ruth Dearnley
ACTSA
My MA was very specifically focused around a critique of the development industry

and the policies associated
with it. I was interested in the structural changes that could be made to the ways in
which development is
approached. There seems to be a wealth of opportunities for anthropology graduates
within the NGO/development
field. In my opinion, these industries would benefit from a more anthropological
perspective: it is easy for ideals to
get swept aside in order to benefit organizational/bureaucratic aims. As only a recent
graduate, I am still coming
to terms with the idea of adjusting my anthropological ethics and principles to those
of the workplace!
I recently took up an internship with a not-for-profit organization called ACTSA, which
began as the first
anti-apartheid movement. Since 1994, however, it has been focused on broader goals
for southern Africa: issues
such as democracy, wiping out world debt and engaging in free trade. Working
closely on campaign coordination

in this small organization, this position enables me to introduce an anthropological
perspective that supports
the grassroots approach that ACTSA delivers.
Anthropology provides the ability to think critically, analytically and objectively and to
apply these attributes
to everyday problem-solving within a professional environment. Moreover, an
anthropological understanding
enhances ones ability to act with diplomacy when working with people who have
conflicting opinions or
outlooks.
Ideally, anthropologists will be involved at each of these stages. Ted Green, for
example, worked in development for many years (see Green 1986). This led to
his involvement in the design for a project assisting womens self-help groups or
zenzele,1 in Swaziland (Green 1998). In earlier research he had shown that there
was a positive correlation between these self-help groups and other development
projects. USAID therefore decided to provide development training for zenzele
group leaders, and asked him to help design the programme. After it had run for
several years, Ted was asked to come back and evaluate its progress. His
qualitative
analysis, based on detailed ethnographic research in the area, was able to show
the
many and often subtle social and economic effects of the training programme,
as well as contributing to wider theories about rural development and the
political
status of women.
CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT ACTIVITIES

Scarlett Epstein
PEGS (Practical Education and Education Support), Kingsway,

England
I have been retired now for 20 years, during which period I have worked
continuously in the field of
development anthropology, directing research projects on problems facing
developing societies. My first project
was a four-year cross-cultural study of population growth and rural poverty and the
second was an actionoriented
study of the role of rural women in development. I engaged Third World doctoral
students in this
research: 20 per cent of my students now hold professorships in their respective
home countries; another 20 per
cent work in health and education and 60 per cent are involved in development
projects in Africa and Asia.
I have focused, as a consultant, on poverty alleviation and rural development in
general and in particular on
income-generation for some of the poorest women. Conducting micro-society studies
in south India and in Papua
New Guinea, I acquired an in-depth understanding of the interplay between culture
and developmental activities.
In my work I emphasize the important part culture plays in response to new
development opportunities. My
anthropological training has helped me to get economists, who usually base their
planning on the rational
economic man model, to include cultural variables in their considerations, and this
has helped to reduce the
high failure rate of projects.
IMPACTING GLOBAL PROGRAMMES AND POLICIES

Edward Green
Senior Research Scientist, Harvard Center for Population and
Development Studies
In the late 1970s, I was struggling to gain a foothold in the academic world. There
had been an over-production
of Ph.D.s in fields like anthropology because people like me found ingenious ways to
avoid the Vietnam war
by lingering in graduate school. More than once during my two-year appointment at
West Virginia University,
a colleague suggested that I might find applying anthropology to the problems of
developing countries more
satisfying than cranking out scholarly articles on matrilineal kinship, the subject of
my dissertation.
In 1980 I managed to land a three-year job as social scientist on a rural waterborne
disease project in
Swaziland. I quickly strayed beyond my mandate and began spending time with
traditional healers (incorrectly
labelled witchdoctors). Then another project needed someone to do a quick study of
traditional healers as
potential partners in public health ventures, such as the promotion of oral hydration
therapy for children with
diarrhoeal diseases. I was happy to accept this extra assignment, and so got onto a
career track that lasted
for about twenty years. We developed an approach that consisted of workshops for
the bi-directional exchange
of medical and healing knowledge (we avoided the term training) about a particular
topic such as diarrhoeal
disease, and later, contraception, STDs and AIDS. In addition to Swaziland, I initiated
programs like this in South
Africa, Mozambique, Nigeria and, for a briefer period, was consultant for such a
program in Zambia.
A hypothesis that motivated our work was that public health efforts aimed at
encouraging behavior change
or the adoption of new technologies can and should take advantage of the prestige,
credibility, authority, and
widespread availability of traditional healers, especially in a country with an
extremely weak health infrastructure.
The idea was to make allies of indigenous healers, rather than ignore or confront
them.
Research suggests that traditional healers see and treat many or most STD cases in
Africa. Healers also
sometimes use knives and razors in administering medicines, potentially facilitating
the transmission of HIV.
At least 80 per cent of Africans rely on traditional healers for treatment of all
conditions, even if many also
consult biomedically trained practitioners. In Mozambique, the proportion relying on
traditional healers may be
even higher. Preliminary census studies by our team suggested a ratio of roughly one
traditional healer for
every 200 people, while the physician/population ratio in Mozambique was about
1:50,000, with some 52 per
cent of doctors concentrated in the capital city.
Once research provided a base of ethnomedical information, we identified common
ground between Western
medical and indigenous thinking with a view to building upon existing local beliefs
and practices. Our assumption
was that ethnomedical practices can (by Western public health measures) be
considered either promotive of
health, damaging to health, or of no direct health consequence but of cultural value.
In simplest form, our
strategy was to encourage practices that promote health, discourage those that
damage health, and respect the
remainder while not interfering with them.
Next, we developed a strategy for communication with traditional healers that
embodied these elements. Our
medically trained staff learned enough about indigenous health knowledge to
develop educational strategies
CONNECTING MULTIPLE REALITIES

Like aid, development has often been imagined (and represented) as an active
topdown
process of donors dispensing assistance to relatively passive disadvantaged
groups, but although this points to the unequal power that often characterizes
such
relationships, both aid and development are better considered analytically as an
interaction between groups. Anthropologists have long been aware that there are
multiple realities in development (Grillo and Stirrat 1997), and one of their
major
contributions has been to conduct ethnographic research that sets out explicitly
to
make connections between local peoples understandings and practices and
those of
outside researchers and development workers (Sillitoe 1998: 224).
that went far beyond simply using local names for diseases; we also incorporated
indigenous ideas, symbols,
and prevailing practices to the extent that these were feasible.
I have documented my research in ethnomedicine and my applied work with African
healers in several
books as well as in journal articles, book chapters, and conference presentations.
Most importantly, major donor
organizations such the UN, the World Bank, USAID, and the WHO, have all come to
believe in and support
collaboration with traditional healers as a valid approach to achieve public health
goals.
I often wish that I had stayed in this popular area of research and applied work,
because in 2001, my
career took a turn towards work that is unpopular in the same environments. My
research showed that having
multiple and concurrent sexual partners drives sexually transmitted HIV epidemics,
therefore this behavior
should be targeted for change (alongside efforts to promote the use of condoms).
Uganda has experienced
the greatest decline of HIV infection of any country. Its home-grown prevention
program was based largely on

behavioral change, specifically on reduction in casual sex, although condoms and
delay of sexual debut also
played a role. Yet there was great resistance to accepting these simple facts on the
part of AIDS experts. It is
always tempting to think we can rely on technological fixes to complex behavioral
problems that are rooted
in diverse cultures. I spent 20012 working on a book entitled Rethinking AIDS
Prevention and speaking
out as much as possible (Green 2003). I teamed up with a Ugandan infectious
disease specialist at Harvard,
and he and I often presented together, including on Voice of America TV. I testified
four times in Congress, I
published op-eds in the NY Times and Washington Post, and I basically argued in
whatever forum I could find
that primary behaviour change should be promoted, especially in generalized HIV
epidemics.
In December 2003, I was invited to be part of an AIDS-related delegation to four
African countries. My
Rethinking book appeared the month before, and it led to spirited discussions and
debates about what works
in AIDS prevention. There now seems to be increasing acceptance that both behaviorbased, primary prevention
and technology-based risk-reduction interventions are needed.
PROMOTING MEANINGFUL PARTICIPATION IN

DEVELOPMENT
Paul Sillitoe
Professor of Anthropology, University of Durham
I have worked as a consultant for bilateral and international agencies (DfID, FAO,
UNESCO, GTZ) and international
oil and mining companies. I have also had research grants to facilitate the
incorporation of indigenous
knowledge in development programmes (abbreviated to IK in the acronym-littered
world of development). This
has entailed working with development practitioners and natural resource scientists
to inform their work with
a local perspective.
Development projects are organized into stages: project identification; planning and
preparation; appraisal of
proposals; project implementation; monitoring; and final evaluation. Anthropology is
well placed to contribute to
each of these. Knowing regions and communities intimately through extended
periods of research, anthropologists
are well qualified to assist with project identification, and are likely to be able to
engage local people
meaningfully in the process. The success of projects depends on the real participation
of the intended
beneficiaries, but all too often projects are devised by agency experts with little
local input. For instance,
I recall a meeting with an IFAD team on a project identification mission for the whole
of South Asia. They
were visiting some half a dozen countries in a month, spending a day or so in each
place. It was no way to

identify potential projects, let alone involve people. Some use the derogatory term
development tourists for
such consultants.
Anthropologists can also make valuable contributions to planning and preparation,
and the appraisal of
project proposals. They have the mindset to promote meaningful participation and
not impose a pre-conceived
model. The inclusion of anthropology in projects leads to an appreciation of local
views and ensures that local
voices are heard on their own terms. For example, during an irrigation engineering
project in Bangladesh, it
became evident that a finely tuned understanding of local land-holding rights and
village power structures
was necessary to plan a scheme that would be workable. It was not simply a case of
engineering deep tube
wells and canals, but also of coming up with a way of operating and maintaining the
scheme that made sense
locally. The importance of local consultation was starkly evident following the multibillion dollar Flood Action
Plan (FAP) programme in which dykes and canals were constructed. I recall a DfID
Fisheries Advisor asking in
amazement why local farmers had dug through a new embankment, breaching the
expensively engineered flood
protection arrangements: what possessed people to do such a thing? It turned out
that the embankments were
not allowing the monsoon flood waters to drain away, and were preventing farmers
from planting their next
rice crop.
Anthropologists also work on project implementation, and this often involves
managing other staff, including
local participants. Here again anthropologists have a particular contribution, being
familiar with other cultural
ways of working and not expecting to impose a Western regime. Anthropologists can
also make useful
contributions to the monitoring and evaluation of projects, asking questions that do
not occur to others.
Most development practitioners and the natural scientists in this area are committed
to tackling the poverty
that blights many lives, and are sympathetic to our endeavours, realizing that in the
past large sums have
been wasted on initiatives that ignored local ideas. Nonetheless, they find
anthropology puzzling: as one natural
scientist colleague put it doing research with you is like jumping from an aeroplane
without a parachute and
hoping that things will work out on the way down. We therefore have to work hard to
make anthropology
readily intelligible to others, so that they can see its contribution.
It is always challenging to integrate indigenous knowledge into the development
process. We need to
meet demands for development to be cost-effective and time-effective, generating
anthropological insights that
are readily intelligible to non-experts, while not downplaying the complexities. The
uniqueness of indigenous
knowledge small-scale, culturally specific and geographically local hampers its

incorporation in development,
impeding the formulation of generalisations that might inform wider policy and
practice. We need principles
that facilitate generalization without transferring ideas that may be inappropriate in
other contexts, and my
colleagues and I have tried to set out some methodologies that will assist this
process (Sillitoe, Dixon and Barr
2005).
An interdisciplinary approach is central to IK research, combining the cultural
empathy of social scientists with
the technical know-how of other specialists. An integrated perspective requires
learning from other disciplines,
as well as from local people. There must be a genuine flow of ideas and information
between all parties. For
example it is increasingly realised that rainforests in Papua New Guinea are not
pristine environments but have
been subject to human interference for millennia, so the idea of creating
conservation areas from which people
are excluded does not make ecological sense (even if it was practicable politically),
as they have long been part
of local ecosystems. To meet conservation interests it is therefore necessary for
biologists to work closely with
anthropologists to understand local forest use practices. Success depends on
fostering consensus, joint ownership
and open debate. It is necessary to promote a collaborative atmosphere in which
neither scientific nor local
interests feel threatened, all parties having a role in negotiations, and contributing
vital skills and knowledge.
In working in the development field, it can be useful for anthropologists to specialize
in fields such as health,
demography, governance, natural resources, engineering and education. My own
interests encompass natural
resources management, appropriate technology, and development, with a particular
focus on sustainability and
changing social and political relations.
At first sight IK work may seem straightforward: we just have to ask local culture
bearers about their views.
But we soon encounter cross-cultural issues that challenge what we think we know.
Knowledge is diffuse, and
it is not homogenous; there is often little local consensus. Much information is
transferred through practical
experience, and people are unfamiliar with expressing all that they know in words.
Knowledge may be passed
between generations using alien idioms: symbols, myths, rites and so on. Translating
it into foreign words and
concepts may misconstrue others views and actions. The dynamism of IK also
presents difficulties: it cannot be
documented once-and-for-all. We therefore need an iterative strategy, closely linking
ongoing IK research with
development interventions.
It can take several years (not months or weeks) to achieve meaningful insights into
local knowledge and
practices, and from this perspective to provide cultural translation for development
agencies. This is often
problematic in contexts with politically driven short-term demands for quick results.
And it is not just a question
of the time it takes to learn language, cultural repertoire, social scenario and so on,
but also the investment
of time and energy needed to win the trust and confidence of local communities who
frequently have good
reason to be suspicious of foreigners and their intentions.
Multiple realities are formed, in part, by different bodies of knowledge, which

are often highly localized and specific. They contain their own areas of expertise,
which, as well as being integrally important to the cultural group concerned, can
also be invaluable in creating successful outcomes to development projects.
Local
knowledges have much to offer in other areas too, for example in medicine and
environmental conservation, and anthropologists have often been influential
in ensuring their preservation and valorization. Darrell Posey spent many years
recording the ethnobotany of indigenous groups in South America, and
highlighting
the relevance of this expertise for contemporary ecological management (Posey
2002);2 Rajiv Sinha and Shweta Sinha (2001) have recorded local knowledge
about
therapeutic plants in India, and Michelle Hegmon and her colleagues provide
accounts of Native American ethnobotany from prehistoric times to the present,
pointing to some of its lessons in relation to current farming and conservation
practices (Hegmon et al. 2005).
We cannot understand cultures by looking at individual parts of them in isolation: we
have to consider the
whole picture. For example, in oil field developments in Papua New Guinea, it would
seem unlikely that religious
beliefs could be an issue, but this is exactly what happened with people talking about
the oil coming from
the body of an enormous multi-headed subterranean snake that the oil drill had
speared. The idea originated
in their belief that spirits sometimes manifest themselves in the form of frightening
snakes. They consequently
became increasingly anxious at the cosmological implications of oil and gas
developments and their potential
to lead to disasters. Such views may seem bizarre to people in the petroleum
industry, but they clearly need to
be aware of them to understand the reactions and demands of the landowners whose
agreement is necessary
for production.
We also need to beware of accumulating ethnographic information not directly
related to development issues,
and of potentially disempowering people by representing their knowledge in ways
beyond their control, maybe
infringing their intellectual property rights. These are issues that anthropologists are
trained to be aware of,
and where they are well placed to make significant contributions to development
endeavours. It is an exciting
and challenging time to be involved in this area.
A key way of ensuring that local knowledges are brought to bear on development
projects is through the participatory approaches that are integral to
anthropological
research.
Today, many anthropological research methods are immensely popular in international
development . . . The Participatory Research Appraisal (PRA) movement,
which hit international development in the 1980s and 1990s, and was even
being adopted by mainstream organizations like the World Bank or USAID,
draws its basic methodology from anthropology . . . Participatory methods aim
to involve the local population in an engaged, self-interested manner instead of
making people an object of research in which the outcome is only of interest to
scientists. (Rhoades 2005: 72)
Robert Rhoades (whom we met in Chapter 1, discussing advocacy) points to the

efforts of agricultural anthropologists working at the International Potato Center.
The Center has 5 main objectives: increasing potato production, protecting the
environment, saving biodiversity, improving policies, and strengthening national
research. Anthropologists have worked with the CIPs interdisciplinary research
teams in all of these areas, and have had a critical role in bringing local
perspectives
into the equation.
Anthropologists helped a team of post-harvest technology scientists generate
a new system of storing potatoes that was subsequently adopted by thousands
of farmers in over 20 countries. Serving the team as cultural brokers, the
anthropologists demonstrated that the scientific preconceptions of farmer
conditions were incorrect and then pointed to common ground upon which
both scientist and farmer could communicate. (Rhoades 2005: 724)
The anthropologists succeeded in highlighting the farmers real concerns and

demonstrating the advantages of using methods of storage that, as well as being
practical, fitted into local social and cultural traditions. By translating the
farmers
experience and demonstrating its utility, they were able to convince the scientific
community that there were major gains to be made from more collaborative
approaches. The CIP adapted its development policy to engage with local cultural
realities, the interdisciplinary team developed new methods accordingly, and the
model helped to establish the Participatory Research movement.
Anthropologys advantage in this kind of research was in its comparative
methodology and ability to analyze whole systems, not just component parts.
Other scientists in the center, such as breeders or agronomists, had a very precise
but reductionist view of their subject crop. The anthropologist, on the other
hand, was interested in how the farmer system was adapted to the environment
and the role of human culture in this adaptation. (Rhoades 2005: 75)
The anthropologists went on to gather information on potato production in 132

different countries, and the teams ethnographically informed model has since
been
applied to research on many other crops around the world.
As a central human activity, farming remains a major area of interest for
development
anthropologists. James Fairhead (1990, 1993) has focused on local knowledge
in farming communities in Zaire; Elisabeth Croll and David Parkin (1992) brought
together a number of researchers to consider the relationship between
anthropology,
the environment and development; Patrick Herman and Richard Kupers (2003)
work is concerned with the effects of international trade negotiations on farmers
in
Europe; and Miranda Irvings research focuses on the issues raised around
farming
and irrigation in Oman (see her autobiography in the concluding section).
Farming
is not merely an economic and practical activity though: it is also a way of life
and,
working with high country sheep farmers in New Zealand, Michele Dominy (2001)
considers how, in a settler society, they construct their identity and attachment
to
the land.
Farming is a precarious way of life at the best of times and not all development
projects are successful. Sometimes anthropologists are asked to find out why
they
failed: for example, in Lake Titicaca, on the high Andean border of Peru and
Bolivia,
Benjamin Orlove and Dominique LeVieil (1989) compared private fish canneries;
state and private trout farms; and a trout cage project assisted by international
NGOs. All were established to increase fish production and, over a period of 20
years, all of them failed. The ethnographic analysis pointed to a need to ground
development projects more carefully, suggesting that the failure was largely due
to
the lack of accountability of distant state bureaucrats, who were unable to
control
overfishing in the lake, or to provide regular professional assistance. In this case
the NGOs involved were also able to establish projects without being accountable
for the outcomes, reflecting what Carol Smith (1996: 41) calls the lack of popular
responsibility held by development agents in much of the Third World.
It is certainly a challenge to chart the linkages between efforts to provide
developmental aid and the realities of what happens when it arrives; and to
identify
the factors that decide whether or not projects succeed. Janine Wedel spent a
decade
studying the impacts of Western aid to Eastern Europe following the collapse of
communism, and she highlights the need to follow the process through:
I followed the aid story from the policies, prescriptions, rhetoric and mode of
organisation of the donors . . . through to the recipients so dramatically affected
by those policies . . . I concluded that the way in which donors actually connected
with recipients could play a pivotal role in aid outcomes. The individuals involved,
the means by which the connections were established, and the circumstances in
which they connected were of key importance. Yet this was precisely the element
of this process that was so often overlooked . . . Many people discussed the need
for aid and the specific problems it would address . . . Yet how aid is delivered,
by whom and to whom, their goals, and the circumstances that surround these
individuals and their activities, is critical. It determines what recipients actually
get, how they respond to it, and whether aid succeeds or fails. (Wedel 2004:
1415)
Many development projects involve the provision of loans to boost economic

activity. This support has major potential to create not just economic change but
also
to rearrange social, cultural and political relationships. There are key questions:
who
is enriched or empowered by loan schemes? Who loses out? How do such
schemes
affect cultural beliefs, values and practices? Such questions have formed the
focus of
Raymond Ocasios work with communities taking loans for urban sanitation in the
Honduras (Ocasio et al. 1995). Conducting research in Bangladesh, Sidney Ruth
Schuler and Syed Hashemi observe that in loan schemes, as in other
development
projects, there are some major issues around gender and equality. Their research
looked at the relationship between womens participation in rural credit schemes,
the empowering effects of self-employment on womens status and autonomy,
and
control over their own fertility: Participation in credit programs appears to
empower
women . . . strengthening womens economic roles gives them more autonomy
and
more control over important decisions affecting them and their families, as well
as
contributing to their self-confidence, and their ability to plan for the future
(Schuler
and Hashemi 2002: 278, 292).
Feminist approaches in anthropology have paid particular attention to gender
relations, and have often been linked to aid and development activities hoping
to assist women and children. For example, Soheir Sukkary-Stolba has worked in
nineteen different countries in Africa, Asia and especially the Middle East, in
projects
designed to assist poor rural women, especially single mothers and widows. She
has
helped to design family planning training sessions for midwives, interviewed rural
women about water issues, and collaborated in research investigating childhood
diseases (in Gwynne 2003a: 123).
Health-related development, like other forms of development activity, benefits
from a holistic approach. Thus Elliot Fratkin and Eric Roth (Fratkin and Roth
2005), in working with formerly more nomadic cattle herders in northern Kenya,
considered the wide range of social, economic and health effects created by their
recent settlement. Michael Trisolini, in his research in public hospitals in St Lucia
(Trisolini et al. 1992), similarly located the research in its social context, and thus
demonstrated the need for community involvement in health management. This
research recalls a message well established by Demetri Shimkins earlier work (in
the
1960s), which focused on the role of community health workers in rural
Mississippi,
and pointed to a need for
. . . a thorough understanding of the social, economic, political, and health
systems operative in a community . . . Any health behavior changes . . . could
only be made if culturally sensitive and appropriate models were employed . . .
The social institutions of the extended family and the church were used as the
settings in which modifications of high-risk health behaviors were to occur . . .
By understanding the community, real changes in measurable health outcomes
occurred. (Shimkin 1996: 287, 292)
Shimkin went on to work on health issues in Africa, and commented that:

The pattern of foreign aid has been far from optimal. A major difficulty is
that each donor is concerned with his or her own priorities and ways of doing
business . . . Cooperation between foreign donors and between external and
domestic projects is generally poor. In consequence, there is often little feedback,
and the long-term improvement of health facilities and capacities is often
slight . . . In this context the social and behavioral sciences are of exceptional
importance. Their proper use is indispensable for sound epidemiology and the
design of effective health services. (Shimkin 1996: 2856)
CONSERVING CULTURAL DIVERSITY
An important external pressure on local communities is the growing worldwide

support for wildlife and habitat conservation. While conservation efforts are
undoubtedly vital for the maintenance of biodiversity, they have tended,
sometimes,
to neglect the needs of local people who may rely on access to the same land
and
economic use of its resources for their food and livelihood. Attempts to replace
local
modes of production with a transnational model combining conservation and the
development of a tourism industry have led to major conflicts in some areas.
In addition to highlighting the issues of social justice that these conflicts raise,
anthropologists have argued that cultural diversity is as important as
biodiversity,
not just for the well-being of human populations, but also because it may be
more effective in maintaining other species. They have shown that, in
maintaining
biodiversity, the low-key environmental management of small-scale societies can
be
as effective as and sometimes more effective than a mixture of national
parks
and more intensive surrounding development. Peter Little provides an example,
drawing on his research with Maasai herders in Kenya:
I was invited by the Kenya Wildlife Services (KWS) to help establish a
socioeconomic monitoring unit to look at project impacts and to gather ongoing
data in a community-based conservation project.
The role that pastoral livelihoods in East Africa play in shaping the savanna
landscapes and their rich biodiversity cannot be understated. East Africa
possesses a rich historical and archaeological record documenting the significant
influences of pastoral land on savanna habitats and the wildlife herds that
inhabit them . . . This evidence strongly suggests that the savanna ecosystems of
East Africa, which support the richest variety and density of large mammals in
the world, were shaped by human activity and were not the wilderness areas so
often considered by early explorers and naturalists . . .
Current communities of herders, who played such important roles, are
increasingly impoverished by the expansion of national parks and game reserves,
as they have lost access to valuable rangelands and critical water points. At least
20 percent of critical Maasai grazing lands have been taken over by wildlife
reserves and parks since the 1940s. (Little 2005: 48)
Fortunately, the KWS was headed by the well-known anthropologist, Richard

Leakey, who pointed out that the Maasai pastoralists are par excellence
conservationists
. . . if the Maasai had not been so tolerant, we wouldnt have any wildlife
in the Maasai Mara today.
The involvement of anthropologists in these debates has helped to persuade
international conservation groups to think more carefully about the role of local
communities, and to work with them in trying to protect wildlife and wider
ecosystems.
Recent events in Kenya have resulted in some healthy if not contradictory
rethinking of pastoral land use and its effects on savanna landscapes . . .

Confronted with the prospects of large-scale subdivision and capital-intensive
agriculture near some of Kenyas most important wildlife areas, international
conservation groups and the government now embrace pastoral land use . . . for
its positive benefits to wildlife conservation. (Little 2005: 489)
Similar progress has been made in Australia, where conservation organizations

are increasingly keen to work with Aboriginal people. With input from
anthropologists
such as Bob Layton, Uluru (Ayers Rock) and Kakadu National Park are
now managed jointly by National Parks rangers and local indigenous communities
(Layton 1989), and in Far North Queensland, where I have conducted research for
many years, a local Aboriginal community established one of Australias first river
catchment management groups, bringing together different groups of water
users
and initiating more collaborative management in the Mitchell River watershed
areas
(Strang 2001a).
Conservation organizations and indigenous communities sometimes find
themselves
on the same side when confronted with large-scale infrastructural development
schemes. Major dams and hydro-electric projects are among the most
controversial
of these, and as in other forms of development, an understanding of the different
perspectives of the various groups involved is vital, as is some anticipation of the
potential social impacts of such schemes, which often displace whole
communities.
These kinds of developments benefit from social impact analysis, which is a way
of
systematically considering the kinds of impacts that they will have on local
groups
(Goldman 2000). Thus in Canada, when a large hydro-electricity development
was
proposed in James Bay, a team of anthropologists conducted research with the
Cree
tribe:
The Programme in the Anthropology of Development at McGill University
provided a wide range of socio-impact studies of the consequences of the
hydroelectric project. These allowed the Cree to prepare their case so as to
emphasize the threats to their subsistence base. This resulted in measures such
as the James Bay and Northern Quebec agreement, which set aside certain
territories for the exclusive use of the Cree, reserved some twenty-two species of
fish and game for the exclusive use of Cree people, and instituted a program for
Native game wardens that enabled the Cree to monitor the effects of the white
mans incursion into their hunting territories more effectively. The Cree are also
taking over outfitting operations in the region, and they jointly control decisions
concerning sport-hunting quotas. The agreement established the right of the
Cree to the yield of meat, and the Income Security Programme for Cree hunters
and trappers proved an economic safety net that evens out fluctuations in the
hunting yield. (Hedican 1995: 1556)
But dam building around the world continues: Sanjeev Khagram (2004) and
Ranjit Dwivedi (1999) have highlighted the social and cultural issues raised by
the building of the controversial Narmada Dam in India, Jun Jing (1999) has
written about the dispossession created by the Three Gorges Dam in China, and
other ethnographers have noted the particularly disempowering effects that this
displacement has had on rural women (Tan et al. 2001). My own recent work has
been concerned with conflicts over dams and water resources in Australia (Strang
2009). With an intensive developmental agenda, competition for the control and
use freshwater resources has become a major issue. The story of water is all too
often
a story of conflict and struggle between the forces of self-interest and
opportunities
associated with progress and the community-based values and needs of
traditional
ways of life (Donahue and Johnston 1998: 3).
GLOBALIZATION
Clearly one of the major pressures for development is the process of globalization
itself. In the new millennium, the global picture retains many of its previous
wealth and power divides, but it is greatly complicated by new information-based
technologies, rapid transport and communications, and flows of capital and
commodities.
Anthropologists have therefore also turned their analyses to considering
how development activities function within these wider processes. As well as
creating
expanding markets and new demands for resources, globalization has required
the
formation of many new cross-cultural relationships: between transnational
corporate
networks and local communities; between large and small societies; and between
materially rich and poor countries. In this intensifying global interaction, there is
both a need for effective cross-cultural translation, and for a thoughtful analysis
of
its social and cultural effects.
Anthropologists such as Angela Cheater (1995) and Marc Edelman and Angelique
Haugerud (2005) have tried to set out some new ways to analyse the linkages
between
local and global dynamics. More specifically, Akhil Gupta and Aradhana Sharma
have considered how globalization changes ideas about the state, nationhood
and
identity. Studying call centres in India, and the issues created by the
outsourcing of
jobs to countries with cheaper labour, they observe that:
Outsourcing is seen as both a sign of state openness modernity, and good
macroeconomic liberalization by the defenders of transnational capitalisms, and
as a charged symbol of decreasing state sovereignty and control by economic
nationalists . . . As a symbol of economic globalization, call centers have come to
occupy a central place in debates on the outsourcing of jobs from the North.
Corporations, and increasingly state bureaucracies in the North, are farming
out customer service and processing-related jobs to the South as part of their
cost-cutting measures . . . One of the most important fears fuelling the backlash
against outsourcing is that high-end, white-collar workers in the North are now
in danger of being displaced by cheaper labor in the South (and especially in
the Indian subcontinent). Some of those who cheered the efficiency of global
competition in hastening the decline of the heavily unionized smokestack
industries in the North have now become economic nationalists, as they find
themselves in danger of being displaced by the same capitalist forces. The
emergent transnational economic order is transforming the relationship between

citizenship, national identity and the state. (Gupta and Sharma 2006: 2, 4)
Transnational trade takes many forms, sometimes with widely dispersed effects.
One of the worlds fastest growing industries, for example, is international
tourism.
Bringing different cultural groups into contact and exerting a range of
developmental
pressures, this is an area of major interest to anthropologists. Thus James Carrier
(2004) looks at how local and global understandings of the environment meet
in
debates about marine parks in Jamaica; Don Macleod (2004) charts the way that
tourism in the Dominican Republic has led to the wholescale appropriation of the
local environment and its resources; and Kenneth Macdonalds (2004) research
on
tourism in the mountains of Pakistan shows how a view of conservation as a form
of
alternative development repositions local fauna as global property and
indigenous
hunting as poaching, to be replaced by putatively more sustainable trophy
hunting
for wealthy foreigners.
However, tourism is a double-edged sword which can also assist local groups in
maintaining a way of life: The cultural survival of indigenous groups . . . and the
survival of the environment and wildlife are closely interlinked and, according to
some, can result in new types of tourist activities (including ecotourism) that
benefit
local development (Little 2005: 50).
In making wealthy societies more aware of the realities of others, international
tourism has also assisted less advantaged groups in demanding Fair Trade.
Peter
Luetchfords work examines the way that ethically motivated trade operates. He
has
conducted ethnographic research on the relationships between cooperatives of
coffee
producers and the various NGOs and other agencies in Costa Rica who negotiate
with Fair Trade counterparts and commodity markets in the north.
Although I have shown that as policy fair trade does not operate as envisaged,
it is at least implementable. Fair trade opens up moral, economic, and political
possibilities in development . . . from ethnography we can begin to see how
policies take shape in practice. (Luetchford 2005: 144)
There are other, more problematic aspects of globalized markets. For example,
Nancy Scheper-Hughes was asked to assist an international Task Force looking at
the issues raised by global traffic in human organs for transplants. She carried
out
ethnographic research in Brazil, South Africa and India,
. . . examining the ethical, social, and medical effects of the commercialization
of human organs, and accusations of human rights abuses regarding the
procurement and distribution of organs to supply a growing global market.
[This involved] . . . forays into alien and at times hostile and dangerous territory
to explore the practice of tissue and organ harvesting and organ transplantation
in the morgues, laboratories, prisons, hospitals, and discreet operating theaters
where bodies, body parts, and technologies are exchanged across local, regional
and national boundaries. Virtually every site of transplant surgery is in some
sense part of a global network. At the same time, the social world of transplant
surgery is small and personalistic; in its upper echelons it could almost be
described as a face-to-face community. (Scheper-Hughes 2002: 2701)
Investigations of a practice regarded by some as neo-cannibalism raises many

ethical and social issues. Scheper-Hughes notes Veena Dass comment that a
market
price on body parts even a fair one exploits the desperation of the poor,
turning
their suffering into an opportunity (in Scheper-Hughes 2002: 280) and reflects
that:
The social scientists and human rights activists serving on the task force remain
profoundly critical of bioethical arguments based on Euro-American notions
of contract and individual choice. They are mindful of the social and economic
contexts that make the choice to sell a kidney in an urban slum in Calcutta or
in a Brazilian favela anything but a free and autonomous one. (Scheper-Hughes
2002: 280)
Globalization is an outcome of widespread economic growth and expansion.

Whether in the form of tourism or trade, it inevitably places greater pressure on
resources, and creates more competition for these. A major consequence has
been a
general intensification in efforts to privatize and exploit, in particular, vital
resources
such as water and land (Goldman 1998, Cohen 2002). This has had important
social,
political and environmental implications in every cultural context, and has often
led
to bitter contests between groups even in affluent Western nations: as
demonstrated,
for example, by the widespread protests against Margaret Thatchers 1989 water
privatization in the United Kingdom (Strang 2004), and current conflicts over
water
allocations in Australia (Strang 2009).
While there are no easy solutions to these kinds of problems, anthropological
research can assist groups in communicating different perspectives, potentially
defusing
and enabling some resolution of conflicts. A key contribution lies in
understanding
the particular local context and why pressures on resources and conflicts
over ownership arise in the first place. For example, Matthew Gutmann looked at
local perspectives on the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which
led to a popular uprising in Mexico:
Thousands of Tzotzil, Tzeltal, Chol and other indigenous peoples made clear
their very different interpretation and expectation for NAFTA: they launched
an armed uprising in the southern Mexican state of Chiapas to denounce the
Agreement and demand democracy, liberty, and justice for indigenas and all
people in Mexico. (Gutmann 2006: 170)
In Central and South America there have been many conflicts about land and
resources. In the 1980s, attempts to privatize water in Mexico led to angry
protests by
women in low-income urban areas, who organized mass rallies and street
blockades.
Vivienne Bennetts work looks at the political dynamics underlying these
protests:
Poor urban women are often the protagonists in these protests because infrastructure
problems, especially inadequate water services, have an immediate
impact on the difficulty of their housekeeping work. At the same time, womens
needs are inadequately represented or addressed by formal political institutions
such as political parties. As a result, protest has become the public voice of poor
urban women . . . At least part of the objective of womens actions becomes the
transformation of gender relations. (Bennett 1995: 108)
Violent protests also resulted from more recent attempts to privatize water in
Bolivia. Robert Albro (2005) investigated the violent civil revolt that followed,
exploring the relationship between regional and global activist networks. This
work
is part of an important and expanding body of anthropological research
concerned
with understanding the new transnational social movements, which are often the
source of counter-development resistance to globalizing forces and imposed
development schemes (see Hobart 1993, Arce and Long 1999).
Counter-development is evident at a local level too. James Fairhead and Melissa
Leachs (1996) work shows how groups in Africa devise alternative narratives
to challenge expert knowledge, and Ralph Grillo and Andrew Stirrat (1997)
similarly point to a need not only to articulate the multiple perspectives involved
in development activities, but also to consider how groups resist the imposition of
others visions of desirable modernity. Thus as members of interdisciplinary
teams,
or as individual researchers, anthropologists are closely involved in every aspect
of
development, working with communities and networks around the world as they,
in various ways, welcome or resist social and economic changes and negotiate
their
relationships with others.
4 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
THE
ENVIRONMENT
ENVIRONMENTAL PROBLEMS
As environmental problems around the world become increasingly pressing, it is
plain that although most of the challenges we face are framed terms of climate
or
ecology, their causes are anthropogenic they are caused by human activities.
This
points to an urgent need to understand why people do what they do in relation
to
the environment. Why do societies develop economic practices that degrade
land,
over-use resources, and threaten the wellbeing of other species and indeed entire
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d t h e e n v i r o n m e n t 59
WATERWAYS AND LIFEWAYS

Veronica Strang
Professor of Anthropology, University of Auckland
The question about why people do what they do in relation to the environment is
what brought me to
anthropology in the first place. After working as a freelance writer for a number of
years in the United Kingdom,
South America, the Caribbean and Australia, I found myself in Canada, focusing
mainly on environmental and
health issues: acid rain, water pollution and so forth. All the emphasis was on the
ecological problems: the
prematurely autumnal forests; the elephant snot algae in the lakes. No-one seemed
to be asking what made
people develop different environmental values and decide to conserve or exploit
natural resources. Not long
afterwards, I spent a year in the Australian outback, working with a stock team
composed of Aboriginal and
non-Aboriginal people. It was plain that although they were doing the same job in the
same place, they had
very different relationships with that environment, and very different values about
how land and resources
should be used and managed. How did that happen?
On returning to England, I thought naively that I might get an answer to that
question by spending
a year or two studying anthropology. I did get some idea, but the experience mainly
served to make me
realize that the question was much larger than I had imagined. Further study was
clearly in order, and by
then I was hooked anyway because, after a dozen years of travelling the world, living
in other cultural spaces,
I finally had a way of making sense of the things that I had observed. My doctoral
research took me back
to Queensland to compare different groups relations to land along the Mitchell River,
and it did make visible
some of the factors which lead to the development of different environmental values
(see Strang 1997). That
work led to a couple of part-time jobs in Oxford, one teaching anthropology at the Pitt
Rivers Museum (magic
place seize any opportunity to go there), and another at the Universitys
Environmental Change Unit, with a
research team looking into domestic energy use. My task there was to consider why
people would (or wouldnt)
make efforts to conserve energy, and to add this to the policy advice that the team
was giving to the Minister
of the Environment.
An opportunity to help start a new anthropology department tempted me to the
University of Wales for a
few years, where I returned to my earlier research interest in water (as one might
well do in Wales). I persuaded
a number of UK water companies to fund some research in Dorset, on the River Stour.
As in Queensland, this
involved interviewing the various groups of water users along the river, so that the
ethnographic data could
be considered alongside the ecological issues. But in this case I was more interested
in the cultural meanings
ecosystems? Why dont they rein in population growth and resource use to
sustainable
levels? What enables some groups to have much smaller ecological footprints
than
others? These questions are not ecological: they are social and cultural, and
involve
particular beliefs, values and practices that lead to different ways of interacting
with
the material world.
encoded in water. I chose the River Stour in order to work with an arts and
environment group, Common
Ground, who were composing music and poetry about the river with local community
groups. Water has very
powerful and emotive meanings. The research looked at how people interacted with
it, why they wouldnt
conserve it, and why (more than a decade after the water industry was privatized)
they were still mad as hell
about losing public ownership of it (see Strang 2004).
A year or two later I was back on the other side of the planet, with a Royal
Anthropological Institute
Fellowship in Urgent Anthropology.1 Returning to the Mitchell River, I did some more
work with the Aboriginal
community in Kowanyama, looking at the way they presented their relations to land
in the political arena, and
doing a lot of cultural mapping with the elders, recording data about their sacred
sites and story places.
I had barely unpacked again in the United Kingdom when I accepted a university post
in New Zealand. In
theory, that is where I live now, although in the last few years I have spent a lot of
time back in Queensland,
investigating the wider social and cultural aspects of water issues along the Brisbane
and Mitchell Rivers. With
the harsh water shortages that Australia has been experiencing, there is increasing
conflict over access to
resources, so this research continues to keep me busy.
My ongoing water works also led to an invitation to join the Scientific Advisory
Committee for UNESCOs
International Ecohydrology Programme. As its name suggests, this brings together
researchers in ecology and
hydrology from many different countries. However, until recently the group had paid
little attention to the social
and cultural aspects of human engagements with water. My task is to assist the
programme in encompassing
these dimensions. Being a tiny cog in the wheel of one of the worlds largest NGOs is
a new and intriguing
experience.
With water resources coming under increasing pressure, most countries are
introducing new systems for
governing and managing water, and trying to find new technical solutions to water
shortages. Often this is
very top down, and my concern, as an environmental anthropologist, is to ensure
that the views of the people
most affected by these changes are clearly represented, and that reforms are
developed with an understanding

of the social and cultural beliefs and values that direct water use and management at
a local level.
There are many other strands of research that I would like to investigate further: for
example thinking about
the design of water features in gardens and public parks; the use of horses in stock
work and the human-animal
relations that this entails; concepts of ownership and property in relation to water.
And . . . and . . . and . . . And
thats the trouble: inside or outside the academe, anthropology can take you
anywhere, into whatever area of
research seizes your imagination and enables you to feel that you are doing
something worthwhile.
Environmental anthropology has therefore come to the fore in recent years,

but this is not really a new focus for the discipline. The localized grassroots
approach
that generally characterizes anthropology has always involved paying
close attention to the relationships between human groups and the places that
they inhabit, and to the ways that people think about, make use of and manage
resources. Environmental anthropologists are interested in how populations
interact
with ecological opportunities and constraints; what makes humanenvironmental
relationships change over time; and why, sometimes, societies make
unsustainable
choices (see Haenn and Wilk 2006). There is ample opportunity to learn from the
past; for example, writers such as Alfred Crosby (2004) have charted the longterm
social and environmental effects of movements of seeds, plants, animals and
germs
around the world; Jared Diamonds (2005) popular work examines societies that
have collapsed; and anthropologists such as Geoff Harrison and Howard Morphy
(Harrison and Morphy 1998 [1993]) have considered how cultural adaptations fit
into larger evolutionary processes. Anthropologists work with all kinds of
societies:
hunter-gatherers, pastoralists, agriculturalists, and the larger industrial societies
that
now dominate most parts of the world. In terms of environmental issues, there
are
some key questions: how do particular groups understand the relationship
between
human beings and the material world? How do they arrange the ownership and
management of land and resources? What are their ideologies and values? One
of
the advantages of a highly comparative discipline is that it shows very readily
that
different cultural groups have quite specific ways of understanding and directing
human-environmental relationships, and that this is intricately bound up with
their
systems of knowledge and their social, economic and political arrangements.
For example, research with hunter-gatherer communities in Africa, Australia and
South America, and in colder parts of the world, such as Alaska, reveals
cosmological
beliefs2 in which ancestral beings inhabit the land and water, often appearing as
non-human species. Human relationships with the environment therefore tend to
be based on ideas about partnership with these beings and a responsibility for
mutual
support. In such societies, traditional3 wealth and power lie in ecological
knowledge,
as hunter-gatherers depend on knowing every detail about the surrounding
landscape
and its resources. Similarly intimate knowledge about local ecosystems is often
held
by small-scale communities that rely on shifting horticulture or forest gardening.
This in-depth local ecological knowledge allows for the maintenance of smallscale
economies, which archaeological evidence suggests have been sustainable for
many
thousands of years.
Today, many of these small groups are under pressure: their lands and resources
have frequently been appropriated, and their way of life is being subsumed by
largescale
societies and their industrial economies. Anthropologists have often directed
their energies towards recording the extraordinary cultural diversity of
indigenous
societies, partly to assist them in preserving traditional ideas and knowledges,
and
also to chart the various processes of change and adaptation through which such
communities try to hold their own in larger societies and a globalizing world. In
relation to environmental issues, there are useful questions about the values and
characteristics that enabled them to maintain sustainable ways of life for so long
and to consider whether there is scope for larger contemporary societies to
learn
from this experience. For example, Darrell Poseys (1989) research with
indigenous
communities in the Amazon led him to consider the lessons that other groups
could
draw from their ecologically sensitive methods of forest management, 4 and
working
with communities who do not see nature as something completely separate
from
themselves encouraged Philippe Descola and Gisli Palsson (1996) to think
critically
about the way that Western societies treat nature and culture as separate
categories,
which allows for nature to be objectified in ways that many environmentalists
regard
as exploitative. Explorations of alternative perspectives and values are
illuminating,
and this work highlights one of the major gains of a comparative social science:
that
by offering insights into different ways of understanding the world, it enables
people
to step back and consider their own in a new light. This reflexive view is
essential,
of course, if we are to understand and potentially change the factors that
create
socially and ecologically unsustainable relationships with the environment.
INDIGENOUS KNOWLEDGES
One of the most important things that anthropology brings to the environmental
arena is an appreciation that resource management emerges not just from
specific
cultural ideas about what resources are for but from whole belief systems and
the
structural arrangements of a society, which includes its forms of governance and
decision-making, its economic practices, its social and spatial organization, and
its
laws concerning the ownership of resources and access to them. Governance is
not
just a matter of political parties: in many societies, religious beliefs play an
equally
important role. For example, Stephen Lansings (1991) research with a
community
of rice growers in Bali showed that the hydrological management of water flowing
from a mountain lake through weirs and channels into farmers rice paddies was
actually conducted by the priests responsible for a series of water temples
placed at
key points in the streams.5 Lansings major challenge was to translate this reality
for
the development experts who wanted to come in and tell the farmers how to
manage
their resources better. As it turned out, the priests local hydrological experience,
and
the farmers knowledge about planting, pest management and so on, assisted by
a
social and religious framework that maintained fair access to water for all, was
shown
to be considerably more in tune with the realities of local ecosystems, and with
local
social needs, than the ideas promoted by external agencies. The anthropological
contribution has been to bring people back into the discussion by highlighting
their
perspectives, as well as the gap between local knowledge and that of the
planners and
experts (McDonald 2002: 298).
Anthropologists have therefore devoted considerable energy to recording local
systems for classifying and understanding ecology, and there is now a large body
of
literature on traditional ecological knowledge that not only provides a rich
lexicon
of information about habitats and species but also describes some very diverse
ways
of thinking about these, producing localized expertise which has sometimes been
described as ethnobotany, ethnobiology or ethnoscience (see Bicker, Sillitoe
and
Pottier 2004).
Stephen Lansings role in explaining local knowledge to development experts is
one that is frequently carried out by environmental anthropologists. In
conducting
ethnographic research, many of us find ourselves acting as cultural translators,
not just for indigenous groups or local farmers, but also for the various groups
involved in resource management, which often include mining and
manufacturing
industries, government and non-government agencies, natural scientists,
catchment
management groups, recreational land and water users, conservation groups and
suchlike. Each of these groups will have its own perspective on resource
management
issues; its own ways of understanding local ecology; its own forms of knowledge
and
expertise; and its own aims and values. Some cross-cultural translation can
therefore
help to ensure that each group has a voice in the proceedings, and each can
gain an
understanding of the other perspectives involved. This is pretty essential if they
are
to reach any kind of amiable agreement.
Local knowledge is often enlightening: for example, James Fairheads (1993)
work on environmental change in Africa, shows that quite often the received
wisdom on problems such as land degradation and deforestation is contradicted
by the experiences of local groups. And, working in South America, Ronald Nigh
found that while deforestation for cattle farming was framed (and often
demonized)
by environmentalists as a core problem, a closer ethnographic analysis of local
issues
showed that better outcomes could be achieved by working directly with cattle
farmers to understand and improve their managerial practices. This allowed us
to
reduce the area of a ranch devoted to pasture to one-third or even one-tenth of
the
area, while at the same time increasing bioeconomic production in absolute
terms.
The project has also allowed some reforestation to occur, as well as generating
income
to support changes (Nigh 2002: 314).
POLITICAL ECOLOGY
Failing to engage with local communities can carry a high social and ecological
price tag. Susan Stonichs research in Honduras examined what happened when
the
government attempted to boost the economy and pay off foreign debt by
expanding
shrimp farming along the coast, without considering the traditional land owners.
Coastal land was given to investors often government officials, military leaders
and urban elites. There was a massive leap in shrimp production (1,611 per cent
in ten years), but also major social and environmental consequences. The
previous
small landholders lost their access to newly privatized ponds and wetlands that
they
had relied on for fishing, harvesting and firewood. There were few jobs to replace
these local economic practices. The shrimp farms devastated the habitats
essential to
other species and, in effect, the governments decision created the conditions for
a
permanent human and ecological crisis in the region (Stonich, in McGuire 2005:
94).
Implicit in each of these examples is the reality that ecological crises affect not
only
plants and animals but also the people who are not powerful enough to pass the
costs
on to others. There are many such groups: not just indigenous communities
whose
land is appropriated by larger societies for national parks or commercial
activities,
but also as in the Honduras example people displaced by developments that
remove their ability to make a living. Examples include local fishing communities
whose resources vanish when over-fished by industrial trawlers from elsewhere;
small farmers pushed out by industrial agriculture and urban expansion; whole
populations forced to migrate when intensified farming in fragile environments
leads to desertification. Eric Wolf pointed out several decades ago that
People were not simply engaged in the work process of applying technology to
nature . . . they were people caught up in struggles to obtain and retain access to
resources, to resist or manipulate the penetration of capital into the countryside,
to fight peasant wars when the opportunities arose real people enmeshed in
relations of power. (Wolf, in McGuire 2005: 923)
Anthropologists such as Thomas Hylland Eriksen (2001, 2003) and James

Carrier (2004) have highlighted the importance of understanding the interface
between local perspectives and larger processes of globalization. Writing about
the
social causes of environmental destruction, Michael Painter and William Durham
point out that we also need to consider the policies and the ideology that orients
resource use for example, the position that rapid economic growth is the best
way
to address social and environmental problems and what groups benefit from
that
ideology (Painter and Durham 1995: 8). There is also a question about who
doesnt
benefit. As Barbara Johnstons (1994) work underlines, environmental injustices
can
be understood as a kind of unequal exchange in which the less powerful pay the
price for the enrichment and comfort of more powerful groups.
As human populations expand and cycles of production and consumption
intensify,
the ownership of natural resources is increasingly contested. Most countries
around the world are witnessing growing competition for water, land and other
key
resources, with major debates about the extent to which these should be held in
common, or privatized, with dominant groups seeking sometimes aggressively
to
ensure that their access to resources and their economic advantages are secure.
Approaching these issues through what has been called political ecology6 goes
under the surface and makes these power relations visible. This can involve
analysing
and at times critiquing the activities of powerful elites. For example,
anthropologists
such as Kim Fortun have examined corporate environmentalism and the ways
in which it frames ideas about institutional responsibilities and environmental
management:
Corporate environmentalism promises to help us clean up the past and manage
future risks, while continuing to provide better living through chemistry . . . a
commitment to both continuity and change, to be realised through initiatives
that transfigure but sustain our ways of desiring, responding, and understanding.
(Fortun 1999: 203)7
Examining the discourses of different interest groups, and how they represent
and promulgate particular beliefs and values, is an important part of
anthropological
research. Anthropologists also consider how different groups evaluate and
present
risk and, here too, the translation of local knowledges and the context
encapsulated
by ethnographic research can be helpful. Edward Liebow, for example, worked
with rural landowners in Americas Washington State, analysing their responses
to a
proposal to build a major hazardous waste incineration plant nearby. He observed
that
local groups are often excluded from decision making, leading to deep conflicts:
In practical terms, the issue here is deciding who gets seats at the table when
these choices get made; in other words, what qualifies as applicable knowledge
and insight . . . One specific aim of the practice of anthropology in environmental
planning is to give voice to the knowledge and insights of non-specialists, whose
experience . . . lends authority to lay judgements about environmental dangers
and the public agencies responsible for managing those dangers. (Liebow 2002:
300)
Current debates on climate change also benefit from what is commonly called
discourse analysis,8 which examines how groups present ideas in ways that
substantiate
their views and support their own interests. Plainly climate change is an
area that is becoming increasingly important analytically: Kay Milton and other
anthropologists are investigating public understandings of the issues (Milton
2008),
and researchers such as Michael Glantz (2001, 2003) are considering the social
effects of climate change on communities, and the implications of these effects
for
policy development. Some anthropologists are directly employed in climate
change
research institutes, for example, Annette Henning works at the Solar Energy
Research
Center (SERC) at Dalarna University in Sweden, and believes that energy use and
its
impacts are urgently in need of social analysis:
The issues of climate change call for in-depth research by social scientists in
collaboration with technical researchers and professionals outside the academic
world . . . Anthropological theories, methods and research are needed, not only
for the study of how humans around the world adapt to climate change, but for
studies that might actually contribute to climate change mitigation. (Henning
2005: 8)
UNPACKING GARBAGE
Climate change is not the only waste-related issue with potentially major social
and
ecological effects. Social analysis is also illuminating in considering other kinds of
waste, and in recent years popular interest has been raised by what Americans
have
called garbology (see Buchli et al. 2001). William Rathjes work in Tucson
Arizona
hit the headlines by applying archaeological thinking to household waste. As he
says:
All archaeologists study garbage . . . our data is just fresher than most . . . What
we do not have and what we need are specialists to study the crucial relationship
between people and things, especially now, as the need to manage resources
efficiently becomes essential. The Garbage Project studies household garbage
because, whether dealing with ancient Maya or modern America, the household
is societys most commonplace and basic socioeconomic unit. (Rathje, in
Podolefsky and Brown 2003: 989)
Rathjes (2001) work on garbage, supported by the Environment Agency and the
Solid Waste Council of the Paper Industry, has obvious relevance for planning in
waste management, as does his research on food waste, both at a household
level and
in larger cycles of production, consumption and distribution.
Each stage in the larger cycles that create waste is critical, and many
environmental
anthropologists work with groups who produce food and goods. There is an
entire sub-field of agricultural anthropology. For example, Yunita Winarto (1999)
has examined debates between local farmers and scientists on pest management
in
Indonesia; research by Carolyn Sachs (1996) considers the ways that gender
roles are
constructed in farming; and Ben Wallace (2006) is involved in a project
attempting
to understand the social pressures that have led to deforestation in the
Philippines.
Such research is generally conducted with a view to assisting the development of
better agricultural strategies, and in each instance, researchers bring the social
and
cultural aspects of farming to the fore. Thus, conducting research on a strawberry
farming cooperative in California, Miriam Wells highlighted the differences
between
a top down purely economic assessment of its success, and the local
perspectives
of the participants, which pointed to the cooperatives importance in providing
disadvantaged Mexican farmers with social status, security, and more stable
family
and community lives, as well as better access to education and other social
services
(Wells, in Ervin 2005).
HUMANANIMAL RELATIONS
Environmental anthropologists also go to sea, as fisheries management is critical
in
terms of food supply. There are major issues about the ecological sustainability of
fish populations, as well as the social sustainability of the many communities who
depend on fishing for their livelihoods.
Fisheries anthropologists have worked long and hard to find, document, and
recommend solutions to the problem of a resource that has no owners . . . Most
significantly they have placed notions of co-management the call for local
communities to share in the management of their own resources firmly on the
agendas of state and international resource management. (Van Willigen 2005:
98)
A resource that has no owners raises complex questions about who should have
rights of access, and as anthropologists have shown, this is very much an arena
in
which power and politics are critical, both at an international level, in
negotiations
over quotas, and locally, between different groups of resource users and
managers.
Thus Bonnie McCay (2000, 2001), who works on fisheries policy issues, seeks
ways
for fishers and policy makers to collaborate in finding workable solutions for
fishing
communities. There are some useful ethnographies of diverse local management
schemes, and these are not always conventional: for example, James Acheson
(1987)
produced an ethnography about the lobster gangs who protect communal
access to
resources in Maine, ensuring a greater density and so more effective
conservation
of lobsters in their territories.
Environmental anthropologists are also keenly interested in broader conservation
issues, and there is a fast-growing area of research concerned with human
animal
relations and animal rites (as well as animal rights). Classically, this has
involved
research exploring the various ways that cultural groups categorize and relate to
animals (for example, as totemic beings, or as spiritual creatures) or examining
how
societies have made use of animals in systems of production, either hunting
them as
prey, or domesticating them to varying degrees.
Gregory Forths (2003) research in Indonesia, for instance, considers how the
Nage people incorporate birds into religious ideas, myths and poetry, and regard
them as having prophetic abilities. Paul Sillitoes (2003) ethnographic work with
New
Guinea Highlanders considers how animals in particular pigs are classified and
dealt with in consequence. Understanding how particular societies relate to
animals
is useful in a variety of ways. It provides insights into their cosmological beliefs
and understandings of the world; their interactions with nature; the ways in
which
they organize themselves socially; and their ideas about identity and
personhood. It
also helps us to understand why people think some species are or are not
worth
conserving and protecting.
Anthropologists have often worked with communities whose way of life is bound
up with particular animal species. For example, Gideon Kressels (2003) research
on
shepherding in the Middle East and Israel considers how groups are struggling to
preserve a traditional form of pastoralism that they see as their cultural legacy,
while
also encompassing the political realities of the region. Such lifeways are integral
to
the preservation of cultural diversity, and many anthropologists believe that it is
important to record and publicize ethnographic accounts of them in the hope of
broadening the wider political reality to encompass and valorize these groups
and
their cultural traditions.
From a very different perspective, James Serpells (1996) research takes a look at
how many societies have created the idea of pets, and incorporated animals
into
their domestic lives. This work shows how cultural groups think about animals as
semi-persons, or as fellow members of the family, and how their worldviews use
animals creatively as categories of characteristics (feline or foxy) or behaviour
(being
boorish, bullish, bovine . . . or chicken). These understandings help to explain
how
people interact with the particular range of species in their environments, as well
as
revealing the way that they organize social relationships and evaluate behaviour.
The social and cultural meanings of hunting, even in urbanized industrial
societies, have been considered by anthropologists such as Matt Cartmill (1993)
and, more recently, Garry Marvin (2006), whose research with English foxhunting
groups informed highly contentious debates on whether this activity should be
banned. Rather than taking sides in the conflict, Marvin sought to articulate the
deeper meanings and ideas located in hunting:
What I wanted to do was something different I wanted to understand what
foxhunting is per se. I sought to understand the social and cultural processes
that constituted foxhunting. As an anthropologist I have a particular interest in
human-animal relations, and it seemed to me that at the heart of hunting were
some complex configurations of such relations . . . I regularly heard those who
participated in foxhunting defend it against attacks from the outside but that
defence never seemed to tally exactly with how they spoke about hunting, the
experiences they had of it and the meanings it had for them when they were
talking amongst themselves. (Marvin 2006: 193, 194)
Marvin was asked to act as an anthropological consultant in the Home

Secretarys
enquiry into hunting with dogs, and to produce a neutral account
interpretatively
describing a typical hunting day with comments on its cultural meanings. This
was considered by the enquiry alongside material from both pro- and anti-
hunting
groups. He was then hired by the Countryside Alliance to help with a legal
challenge
to the banning of foxhunting by producing a report on the potential social and
cultural impacts of the proposed ban on rural communities. Thus several of the
parties involved in the debate made use of his ethnographic research, and the
deeper
understandings that it provided.
As species extinctions have reached unprecedented levels, research on human
animal relations has become more focused on the social and economic practices
that
result in the loss or degradation of plant and animal habitats, and in the
pressures on
endangered species. Quite often there are clashes between environmental
groups and
local communities whose view of animal (or other) species may be less
protective.
Such conflicts have been analysed by Dimitri Theodossopoulos, who investigated
troubles with turtles on a Greek island (2002), and by Adrian Peace (2001,
2002),
whose research which includes an ethnography of whale watching considers
diverse cultural perspectives on dingoes, whales and sharks in Australia.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND
ENVIRONMENTALISM
Concern about wildlife is one of the major drivers for conservation organizations,
and the green movement as a whole has proved to be one of the most
influential
social movements of the last 50 years. It is therefore an important area of study.
A broad perspective is offered by Stephen Yearleys (2005) analysis of social
movements,
while leading environmental anthropologists such as Kay Milton (1993),
Eeva Berglund and David Anderson (2003) have written more specifically about
conservation organizations, protest groups and environmental activists, providing
insights into their internal cultural dynamics and their contributions to public
discourses.
CHANGING THE WORLD

Kay Milton
Professor of Social Anthropology, Queens University Belfast
How did I get into anthropology? Well, I went to a very traditional English grammar
school in the 1960s
with a snobbish headmaster who was obsessed with league tables and how many
students he could get into
university. When I expressed a wish to be a cartographer (I have always loved maps),
which didnt require a
university education (although it probably does now), he gave me a dont be silly
look and told me to think
about what I wanted to study at Cambridge or, if not Cambridge, at least Durham (his
alma mater). One thing
I was certain of was that I didnt want to study any of the subjects I was already doing
at school I wanted
a change. Anthropology was something new, and meant I could apply to Durham,
keep my headmaster happy,
and avoid sitting the Cambridge entrance exam!
There were two other important influences. My father collected African sculpture, so
from an early age I was
surrounded by strange wooden figures from foreign lands. I often thought about
these figures and the people
who made them, and wondered what sort of lives they led. And I was crazy about
animals. I read Gerald
Durrells books about his animal-collecting expeditions, watched every wildlife
documentary I could, and became
determined to visit Africa and see lions and elephants in their natural habitat. At
school, I had loved biology,
but avoided it at advanced level because it meant having to kill and dissect poor
innocent mice, so there was
no hope of a biological career. Anthropology, I thought, would get me to Africa. I
would study people who are,
in any case, the most complex and interesting animals of all, and you dont have to
kill them or abuse them
in order to study them in fact it is strongly discouraged.
I had no ambition, at that stage, to be a professional anthropologist. Even when I had
finished my degree,
I didnt know what I wanted to do. So I became a research student, and when, two
years later, a lectureship in
social anthropology came up at Queens University in Belfast, I applied and was
offered the job, probably because
there was absolutely no competition. If you know anything about the history of
Ireland you will appreciate
that no-one wanted to go to live in Belfast in the early 1970s. So there I was, an
accidental anthropologist,
being paid, amazingly, to teach the most interesting subject imaginable and, yes, it
did get me to Africa, a
few years later. I spent a fascinating fifteen months living in an African village and
managed to see plenty of
elephants and lions, and many other spectacular animals.
That experience gave me a nudge, a bit later in my career, towards environmental
anthropology. I was
thoroughly ashamed and angry at what my species, and especially my society was
doing to our beautiful planet
and the non-human beings that share it with us I still am. So I did what many
fledgling environmentalists do:
I joined local wildlife and conservation groups, volunteered for work parties, went to
conferences and meetings,
and generally got involved.
In the mid-1980s the pressure was on for us to do research and write books and
articles. Since my voluntary
environmental activities were occupying much of my spare time, I started
researching and writing about them.
That is how I came to focus on environmentalism, spending much of the following
twenty years or so trying
to understand what makes environmentalists tick, why they care about the natural
world, how they think about
it, how they seek to influence the lives of others, what drives their commitment.
But, you might ask, isnt that rather a strange thing to do? Arent anthropologists
supposed to go to exotic
places and study other cultures? And how did I manage to remain objective while
studying people whose
commitment I shared? The first question is easily answered. Anthropologists, as you
will realize reading this
book, can study anything and everything that people do in any cultural setting, and
many analyse the societies
in which they grew up, as well as and in comparison with other cultures.
The second question, about objectivity, is more difficult, but there is a clear answer.
Anthropologists are human
beings like anyone else, and have commitments, views and political allegiances.
Being objective doesnt mean
abandoning these, it just means suspending them, stepping back and examining
them in order to understand
them better. Anthropology gives you the training to do this. When I study
environmentalists, and question the
values and assumptions on which they base their arguments and actions, I know that
I am also reflecting on
my own values and assumptions. In a similar way, many anthropologists have been
drawn into areas of research
because of their personal commitments to a particular cause feminism,
development, social justice, world
peace motivated by a desire to understand that cause and make it more effective.
Concerns about conservation are not only confined to wildlife and habitats:
there are many groups equally concerned to preserve cultural heritage in its
various
forms although, as Barbara Benders work on Stonehenge demonstrates (1998),
they
often have very different ideas about how this should be done. Her research with
the various groups arguing over Stonehenge English Heritage, druids, New Age
groups and so forth shows how each imagined, evaluated and represented the
site,
and served to explain the sometimes extreme conflicts over its management and
use.
As an anthropologist who was also an active environmentalist, I did much of my
fieldwork in committee
meetings. This may sound dull, but it wasnt at all, because the meetings were about
what interested me most
how people manage and interact with the natural world. At one stage I was on
fifteen different committees,
covering everything from local park management to the national council of Europes
largest conservation
organization. I was also on a government advisory committee, commenting on
proposals for oil exploration
in the Irish Sea, wind farms, new housing developments, changes in environmental
legislation pretty well
anything that affected the landscape and wildlife of Northern Ireland. All the time I
was doing this, I was
applying my anthropological knowledge as well as collecting material for my
research. And when my time on
the committees came to an end, I was told that I would be difficult to replace because
I understood the
human, cultural side of nature conservation as well as the biological side.
I didnt get paid directly for any of this work: I remained a professional academic, and
the research was

part of my job. I got the distinct impression, though, that had I wanted to move out of
academia and into a
non-governmental organization, or even into the environmental branch of the civil
service, it would not have
been difficult. It was clear to me that an anthropologists skills are not only useful, but
also recognized and
valued, something that does not always happen. So I would advise anyone who wants
to change the world to
go for anthropology. The better we understand ourselves, the better our chances of
making changes that lead
to a better future.
A BRIEF HISTORY OF WHY I CHOSE ARCHAEOLOGY

Danny Dybowski
Field Archaeologist, University of Wisconsin
Approximately ten years ago, when I was in the US Navy, I visited Greece and Italy.
The port visits there
were short and sweet, and did not provide nearly enough time to see all of the
archaeological sites. However,
in Naples, I decided to go on the group tour visit to Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius: this
was a life-changing
experience for me. I did not know that I had an interest in anthropology then. I did
not even know that
anthropology was connected with archaeology, which had been passion for me ever
since it had been glorified
Although conflict between groups over land and resources, animals, habitats
and important cultural sites is a common theme in environmental anthropology,
I dont wish to give the impression that this subdisciplinary area is all about
conflict. There are many strands of research that are simply concerned to gain a
deeper understanding about how human beings interact with their environments.
For example, analyses by Barbara Bender (1993), Chris Tilley (1994), Jeff Malpas
(1999) and Rodney Giblett (1996) illuminate the processes through which people
make cultural landscapes and locate meaning in them. 9 Kay Miltons research
with
environmental groups led her to consider closely how humans develop emotional
attachments to places, or to nature (2002, and Milton and Svaek 2005). This
has
fostered a lot of work in this area, such as that by Tracey Heatherington, whose
research on communal territory in Sardinia showed how . . . attachment to the
land
is perceived as inherent to cultural identity, economic futures and the
persistence
of community . . . belonging to the town commons is felt in the body and in the
family. It is an object of ongoing love, nostalgia, passion, worry, grief and
jealousy
(Heatherington 2005: 1523).
in movies like Indiana Jones. I had no idea what course of study I was going to pursue
at college when I got
out of the navy. At that point in my life, I didnt realize that I was different from the
other crew members on
the ship, because they tended to go to bars and drink heavily when they were at a
port visit, and I tended
to go to museums and experience the local culture.

I began to read more and more about archaeology, and I also became very interested
in the culture on
the ship. I liked learning about different people and about the psychological aspects
of how we all did or did
not get along in such a cramped environment. Over 6,000 people were living and
working together creating a
socially cohesive unit functioning as one complete whole, and this fascinated me,
sparking a life-long interest
in human behaviour.
My visit to Pompeii made me realize that archaeology was not just something in the
movies, but was an
actual discipline that could be studied in college. I signed up to study anthropology at
a community college
near my home town north of Detroit, Michigan, and quickly realized that archaeology
was a sub-discipline
of anthropology. After that, I knew that I was going to become an archaeologist: I
went on to do a Masters
degree at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee, and to work on a large stone tool
collection from southwestern
France, at the Milwaukee Public Museum.
Anthropology to me is the study of people, at all times and all places, and if you can
think of anything
else about human behaviour in between, you are probably right. It is a discipline that
prepares students to
understand human beings of all ethnicities, all cultures, and all time periods,
ultimately refining our perspectives
and objective worldviews while simultaneously respecting others. In what may seem
to be a time of disorder
in our world today, an understanding of anthropology provides hope and optimism: it
enables us to open up
dialogue with other cultural groups while respecting their particular worldviews.
Human engagement with the environment is mental, emotional and physical,

and the anthropology of the senses has proved to be a rich area of
investigation,
in which researchers such as David Howes (2005), Stephen Feld and Keith Basso
(Feld and Basso 1996) have shown how even sensory experience is heavily
mediated
by culture. There are close intellectual ties between this kind of work and the
anthropology of art (see Chapter 8), which considers how aesthetic experiences,
like
the senses, are culturally formulated to create and appreciate particular forms of
artistic expression (Coote and Shelton 1992, Morphy and Perkins 2006).
The way that people interact with the material world, cognitively and physically,
is an intriguing area of research. Alfred Gell (1998) wrote about how artefacts
and
tools become prosthetic extensions of the self and Janet Carsten and Stephen
HughJones (1995) have examined the way that houses create extensions of individual
and family identities. I became interested in this theme in my own work on water
and cultural landscapes, looking at how people express creative agency and
identity
through domestic homes and gardens (Strang 2004) and through wider
productive
endeavours such as agriculture and manufacturing (Strang 2009).
This kind of research also connects with areas such as architecture and urban
planning, in which it is vital to have an understanding of how people relate to
their
surroundings, both in creating successful urban spaces, and in helping to move
towards more sustainable ways of living. For example, David Casagrande and his
fellow environmental anthropologists are involved in an interdisciplinary project
in Arizona, working with biologists and ecologists to bring urban landscaping,
human behaviour and water conservation together in experimental research
aimed
at contributing to water management policy (Casagrande et al. 2007).
Environmental and architectural themes also come together in Marcel Villengas
work, which considers vernacular (local) traditions in architecture, and considers
what can be learned from these. He notes
. . . the strength of the need, desire and capacity of human beings all around the
world to be in control of their own built environment, to create buildings that
are intimately related to their own sense of identity . . . Buildings can be culturally
responsive and environmentally sustainable, if creative use is made of resources
and vernacular methods are used in combination with modern and sometimes
innovative technologies . . . anthropology has the potential to contribute much
to these attempts. (Villenga 2005: 7)
Communities need to be socially as well as ecologically sustainable. Gretchen

Herrmanns research is concerned with the community-building potential of
neighbourhood garage sales in suburban developments and cities.
Under the auspices of attracting more shoppers and making some extra money
by cleaning out unneeded goods, neighborhood sales get residents out of their
dwellings and mingling among themselves, sometimes for the first time. Some
neighborhood sales have been organized expressly for the purpose of getting the
neighbors to know one another in areas undergoing transition. They provide
a positive means to combat a perceived decline of community in the United
States today . . . Neighborhood sales also define the neighborhood to the larger
community, as well as promote internal solidarity. (Herrmann 2006: 181)
Environmental anthropology therefore examines many different aspects of

human-environmental relationships, bringing the social and cultural aspects of
these
to the surface, and providing insights into the diverse ways that cultural and
subcultural
groups engage with the equally varied social and material environments in
which we live.
5 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
GOVERNANCE
THE BIG PICTURE
Anthropologists are increasingly providing advice to government agencies,
becoming
involved in policy development and planning, and assisting decision-making
processes. Some work at a big picture macro level, in government think tanks
and senior administrative bodies. Many do more specialized work with the
agencies
responsible for urban planning, environmental management, housing, health and
welfare, education and child care, or engaged in dealing with pressing social
issues,
such as poverty, homelessness and crime. Some of these areas are considered in
more
detail in other chapters, but here we are more specifically concerned with the use
of
anthropology in relation to governance and policy.
Why are anthropologists useful to governments and their agencies? In essence,
this kind of work draws on core skills in anthropology: a commitment to
examining
the social context in depth, and to understanding the different perspectives and
relationships of the people in it. Although often done at a local, community level,
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d g o v e r n a n c e 77
this can also be applied on a smaller scale, within a single institution, or on a
much
larger scale, to consider regional or national concerns.
At the national big-picture level, Mils Hills was the first social anthropologist to
be employed by the Ministry of Defence in the UK, and went on to achieve
another
first in working for the UK Cabinet Office. In his career, he says, he has
consciously
and consistently drawn on social anthropological concepts and principles and he
issues a sort of manifesto or call to arms for those who may consider the options
for
career development outside those seeming established tracks for
anthropologists:
This is a real case of anthropology in action . . . My anthropological training
has, rather than stymieing my deployment potential, provided me with an
arguably unique springboard into areas of work that few including me could
have anticipated . . . For the past six years I have been required to bring swift
understanding of complex issues, many of them technological or, increasingly
related to policy. The aim of this understanding is to assist those in specialist areas
who may, for example, have become stove-piped in their approach and hence
lost sight of any wider strategic picture. In other cases, the absence of a conceptdrive
approach . . . has meant that managers have no means of progressing their
work because they have lost sight of what it is that they seek to achieve. The
freshness and innovation that anthropologists can bring working in concert
with others means that such impasses can be passed. (Hills 2006: 1312)
Hills points to several key contributions from anthropology to policy and decision
making: its use of grassroots-level evidence to inform analysis; its strengths in
being
able to consider events in relation to a wider context; its ability to understand
and
empathize with diverse views on issues; and its commitment to communicating
this
understanding across cultural boundaries. He also makes an important point in
observing that anthropological theory is readily applicable, and can make a
critical
difference in how events are analysed. It is not enough, he says, to list facts or
sign
petitions:
The real strength of academics . . . should not be merely making a mark on a

page; it should be making a mark on a problem by evolving, and applying,
what we do best, i.e., generating concepts to better understand . . . Given that all
wars and conflicts are essentially wars about meaning of identity, ownership
of natural resources, of control, of purity, of profit, of greed, and grievance . . .
surely anthropologists concerned with the comprehension and generation of
meanings should be claiming a role. (Hills 2006: 1301)
Honggang Yang is similarly passionate about the potential for anthropology

to analyse social dynamics at local and national levels. He began by using his
anthropological training to resolve conflicts about the management of the local
commons between homeowners in Florida, and then moved up to a larger scale,
to assist the Carter Presidential Center in Atlanta in its efforts to resolve conflicts
between nations, at times working directly with the former President: I was
thrilled
when I was hired as a research associate in the conflict resolution program there.
Later I learned that it was my cross-cultural knowledge and applied
anthropological
training in the fields of peacemaking and conflict resolution that had attracted
their
interest in me (Yang 1998: 201).
Yangs role at the Center was to provide cross-cultural translation in areas such
as mediation, election monitoring/observing and convening negotiations. In this
role he made extensive use of ethnographic accounts to inform developments
and to
suggest avenues for communication and conflict resolution.
Anthropologists and other social scientists are also involved increasingly in
government think tanks analysing social, political and economic issues on a
broad
scale. For example, Saffron James works for The Future Foundation, an
independent
social think tank based in the London, which focuses on social policy
development.
ANTHROPOLOGY IN THE FUTURE

Saffron James
The Future Foundation
I work as an applied anthropologist at The Future Foundation, an independent social

think tank in London that
produces a range of qualitative and quantitative research monitoring two main areas:
changes in the family
and family life, and consumption and consumer behaviour. I am the only
anthropologist in the company, and
my role is to incorporate anthropological theories, concepts and methods into the
work that we produce. The
firm is especially interested in new ways of thinking about social change and using
ethnography.
I have worked on a number of projects for UK government departments, exploring the
social and cultural
changes that are likely to impact on public policy-making in the next ten to twenty
years. This has included
issues such as crime in the community, education and its relationship with entry into
the workforce and, more
recently, consumption and emotion.
I think there is huge potential for anthropology to be applied to public-sector thinking,

especially where
public policy-making and social life intersect. I have been surprised at the lack of
understanding of how cultural
and social factors might impact on the success of government policy, and at some of
the assumptions that
underpin policy such as uniform ideas of community and citizenship.
I am currently developing ideas for an ethnographic study about the meaning of
ageing looking at the
terms used to refer to Britains ageing population (such as grey voters or silver
surfers). These descriptors are
quite often derogatory but are widely adopted by institutions and marketers when
referring to different groups
With an understanding that knowledge is power anthropologists have turned

an analytic eye on partnerships between national think tanks and international
organizations such as the World Bank, for example considering how a knowledge
economy has emerged in relation to reform and development around the world
(Stone 2000).
Similarly, observing widespread changes in the formation of nation states and
in the roles and responsibilities of governments, anthropologists have become
very
interested in governance itself. Cris Shore has led the way in focusing on political
elites (Shore and Nugent 2002) and corruption (Haller and Shore 2005), and he
has done extensive fieldwork at the European Parliament in Brussels, examining
the organizational culture of the Eurocrats who administer the European Union
(Shore 2000, see also Shore and Wright 1997). John Gledhill (2000) has turned
a critical eye on the subtle ways in which power is acquired in political life. Other
researchers have focused on government bureaucracies themselves: there is, for
example, Michael Herzfelds (1992) classic work on how these become detached
from peoples needs through the social production of indifference; Robert
Jackalls
(1983) research into how bureaucracy shapes the moral choices that managers
make,
and Josiah Heymans analyses of the power of bureaucratic institutions in which
he
comments that: A crucial step in inferring the marks of power is the
ethnographic
study of ordinary practices within organisations . . . we cannot and should not
avoid
bureaucratic phenomena, tiresome and unromantic as they often seem (Heyman
2004: 487).
of elderly consumers. The aim of the research is to build on the Future Foundations
existing work (which is
primarily quantitative) looking at the changing structure of Britains ageing
population and the implications
of this for future public/private sector planning. However, there is very little insight
into what it means to be
healthy, wealthy and elderly. I want to explore what these terms mean to people
who are over sixty-five, and
look at how they construct their identity in relation to popular descriptions and
stereotypes. The aim will be
to incorporate the work into the research the firm uses, which feeds into public and
private sector thinking.
The Future Foundation tends to focus very heavily on what is going on (quantitative
trends and forecasts),
rather than why things are happening and what they mean. A lot of its work is also
about consumer behaviour
and tends to take a rational, economic perspective. I emphasize the rich, deep
insights into behaviour that
ethnography can provide, and I try to describe the benefits of anthropologys holistic
approach in giving
behaviour a cultural and social context. Feedback from my colleagues is good: they
are interested in how
anthropology can bring different approaches to their core areas of research.
UNDERSTANDING OTHER PEOPLES WORLDS AND

YOUR OWN
Cris Shore
Professor of Social Anthropology, University of Auckland
Class was probably the main reason why I became an anthropologist. Or rather, it
was the awareness of class
differences that first awakened in me a sensitivity towards cultural otherness.
Britain is well known for being
a class society, yet few people appreciate the extent to which class differences
reflect cultural differences.
My parents belonged to what used to be called the middle-class intelligentsia: both
Cambridge University
educated; both high-achieving professionals (my mum was a doctor who joined the
National Health Service, my
dad a Labour MP and government minister during the 1960s and 1970s); both deeply
committed to an ethos
of public service. Our house had books from floor to ceiling: my best friend, who
came from a single-parent
working-class family, didnt have a single book in his house. Being opposed to
educational elitism, my parents
sent all four of their children to local comprehensive (state) schools. With 2,000 boys
from across south London,
my school was rough, even by contemporary standards. Most of the boys were being
educated for working-class
jobs and probably less than 15 per cent went on to take university entrance exams.
To survive fighting, gang
warfare and playground abuse you had to adapt, become street-wise, and play by a
set of local rules. Long
before Id ever heard of Basil Bernstein, I developed two ways of speaking: a
restrictive code of slang and
expletives at school, and at home, an elaborated code with a more extensive
vocabulary that included words
with more than four syllables.
Coming from a political background, it was not surprising that I developed an interest
in politics, or at least
in the questions of power relations and government that are the bedrock of political
science. My first attempt at
university failed. I went to Birmingham to study politics and modern history but,
bored by the sterile manner
in which these subjects were taught, dropped out and spent a year doing manual
jobs, which, I discovered, were
more boring than even the dullest lecture. When I returned to university this time
Oxford Polytechnic I
was far more motivated. I chose anthropology and geography as my majors, and
never looked back. A course
on peoples and cultures of the Mediterranean got me really hooked that and
spending the summer of my
final undergraduate year living on a small island in the lagoon of Venice, and studying
community tensions for
my end-or-year dissertation.
Encouraged by my teachers, I applied to do graduate research on the relationship
between communism and
Catholicism, and was accepted into the Ph.D. programme at Sussex University. Poland
seemed like an obvious
research site, but my plans changed when a revolt that started in the Gdansk
shipyard that year led to the
mobilization of Russian tanks on the border and the declaration of martial law. Italy
seemed a good alternative,
so instead of focusing on Catholicism in a communist country, I decided to study the
role of communism in a
Catholic country. For eighteen months I lived in the Central Italian city of Perugia,
where I became engrossed
in Italian politics and society and completed one of the first ethnographic studies of a
major Western political
party.
Returning to Britain in the 1983, I was eager to finish my Ph.D. and get on with life
and find a proper
job. I was offered a job with a major British trade union but turned it down to return
to Italy, this time to
teach English to political science undergraduates. George Orwell wrote that nothing
teaches you more about a
country than having to earn a living there. Working in an Italian university, I
experienced a dimension of Italian
life that I had not really appreciated before: the corruption, clientelism, feudal-like
hierarchies and nepotistic
employment practices were fascinating and appalling in equal measure.
The following year I took up a short-term research internship at the European
Parliament in Brussels,
which sparked a life-long interest in the EU. I had the option of staying on in Brussels
to work as a journalist,
or applying to become an EU official, but despite the high salaries, the life of a
Eurocrat never appealed to
me. Instead, my partner got a job in a London, so I went back with her, and ended up
with a fixed-term job
at Oxford Brookes University, which left me with a passion for teaching and writing.
Few new lectureships in
anthropology were available at that time, but I eventually obtained one at Goldsmiths
College in London.
During my thirteen years at Goldsmiths I published several books and helped
establish a new journal
(Anthropology in Action). I was also awarded a large grant to study the organizational
culture of the EU civil
service, which brought me back to Brussels as a professional observer. Europe is still
a major research interest,
although my family and I moved to New Zealand in 2003. The first three years here,
as Head of Department
at Auckland University, have left little time for writing, but have rekindled my interest
in bureaucracy, and I
recently embarked on new research studying university reform.
Confucius once remarked: find a job that you love doing and you will never work a
day in your life. He
was, of course, quite wrong. My granny, while less prophetic, used to say: No job that
was ever worth doing is
without moments of grind. For me, anthropology has been and remains an
inspiration. It has taught me
about the world we live in and, perhaps more significantly, about the hidden
structures that shape societies. It
teaches you how individuals, ideas, institutions and events connect (both at local and
global levels). For those
who are interested in otherness, or for those who want to understand the conditions
of their own existence,
I would say anthropology is a must.
THE NOT SO BIG PICTURE

At an institutional level, Dennis Wiedman sees a useful role for anthropologists in
assisting strategic planning in organizations, making use of their training in
depicting
the dynamics of situations holistically and working with all of the participants. He
has done some institutional level work himself with Florida International
University,
using strategic planning to guide a rapidly changing university to fulfill its
evolving
mandate for 30,000 students (cited in Ervin 2005: 109). And some
anthropologists,
such as Marilyn Strathern (2000), have stepped back from their university
institutions to consider how the academy has changed with the introduction of
managerialism and an audit culture.
There are other levels of engagement, for example working in human service
areas
(see Richard and Emener 2003). In Canada, Alexander Ervin was asked by United
Way to do a needs assessment for the whole city of Saskatoon:
Officials hoped that the study would provide some simple formula for helping
them to make their hard financial decisions, but they also wanted a general
study of community conditions that could be used by other government and
nongovernment agencies. For nongovernment charitable organisations, pressures
were becoming overwhelming. Because of government cutbacks in direct services
and funding to human service agencies, more and more was being expected of
the non-profit sector. The United Way had to sort out these difficulties in its
planning. (Ervin 2005: 109)
The research project identified needs in seventeen human service areas,

including
employment, housing, poverty, a range of health issues, recreation, substance
abuse,
ageing and Native issues, and showed that about 25% of the population was
potentially in need of the sort of services that were provided by United Way or
parallel agencies (Ervin 2005: 88). It also illustrated the cultural and sub-cultural
diversities within the city, and the way that these intersected with particular
social
needs.
The case study documents anthropologys potential for conducting mainstream
community policy analysis and formulation . . . We needed to identify insiders
perspectives and the significant issues in each area. We also had to find out what
was common to them all and establish the level of priority for each need . . .
Anthropologists are especially well attuned and preadapted to conduct formal
needs assessments because of their focus on cultural and social awareness. After
all, they have been doing these assessments implicitly for decades as ethnographers.
(Ervin 2005: 8990)
The concern for social justice that characterizes anthropology leads many
practitioners
to work with disadvantaged groups. Frank Munger (2002), for example,
has promoted the value of ethnography in revealing the various aspects of
poverty
and economic survival strategies in a globalizing economy. Survival strategies are
culturally specific, and an understanding of these and their ethnographic context
can greatly assist aid agencies in tailoring their activities to fit local needs.
The way that local and national governments deal with problems also benefits
from ethnographic insights. For example, Kim Hoppers (1991) research on the
realities of life and the mental health issues for homeless people in New York has
enabled the authorities charged with rehousing or providing assistance to people
on the streets to do so in ways that accommodate these realities and deal more
sensitively
with the mental health issues involved. Patricia Marquezs (1999) work with
homeless youths in Caracas was directed towards similar improvements, with the
ethnographic approach to their experiences as a sub-cultural community yielding
a
useful understanding of their particular social rules and moral universe.
Poverty and crime do not necessarily go together, but there is often a
relationship
between social disadvantage, poor education, and levels of criminal involvement.
Gaining an in-depth understanding of the experiences that people have and the
social contexts they inhabit provides important insights into the causes of crime.
For example, Mark Totten and Katherine Kelly used life course analysis with
young
offenders who have been convicted of murder or manslaughter:
We wanted to uncover the participants world from his or her own viewpoint . . .
The research explored the intentions, meanings and motives young people
ascribe to their actions within the context of having them recount their life
experiences. Our theoretical position suggests that involvement in the criminal
justice system and in high-risk activities was the result of a lifetime of events
that, in turn, contributed to the risk of committing homicide. (Totten and Kelly
2005: 77)
The importance of understanding the context is also highlighted by Scott

Kenneys work with the families of homicide victims. He found that it was vital
to consider broader issues, such as how people interacted with the criminal
justice
system, and their communities cultural responses to crime: My research project
dealt with murder . . . While my initial goal was to examine gender differences in
active coping among homicide survivors, it quickly became apparent that this
was a
group troubled by far more than the crime itself (Kenney 2005: 116).
James Vigil worked with Chicano schoolchildren in America, and observed that
their poor educational performance was persistently explained in terms of racial

or
cultural deficits, creating barriers for the children:
. . . culturally biased performance tests, political opposition to bilingual education,
and teachers and administrators unfamiliar with (or even hostile
towards) Chicano culture. Meanwhile . . . the urbanization of the United States
in combination with the transformation of the economy to a high-tech service
orientation, has made the acquisition of a sound education more important than
ever before. (Vigil 2002: 263)
His research focused on how these conditions, and the marginalization that
comes
with them, contributed to the growth of a street-gang subculture and crime in
urban
areas. By doing in-depth ethnography within the sub-culture of gang
membership,
his research pointed to ways that problems could be addressed at an educational
level,
through special programmes and through more effective homeschool linkages.
Clearly insights into all of these factors are helpful to social service agencies and
those concerned with maintaining law and order. In investigating the underlying
causes of crime, anthropologists have therefore encouraged government
agencies to
look beyond simple cultural or racial stereotypes, and to consider and address
the real causes of social dysfunction.
HOME WORK
Having a home is a basic human need, and anthropologists skills are useful for
agencies involved in housing and urban planning. There is a wide range of
ethnography
examining how different societies think about, design and use domestic and
public spaces, and the culturally diverse ideas and values that come into play in
this process. The economics of having a home are also a key issue for many
people,
particularly in urbanized societies, and there is useful anthropological research
being done in this area too. For example, Erve Chambers was involved in a
project
evaluating a programme designed by the United States Department of Housing
and
Urban Development. The programme was meant to give financial assistance to
lowincome
families and allow them more choice in rental housing, as well as inducing
builders (with inspections) to provide better quality facilities. Located in Boston,
his
research evaluated the effects of government policy on families, looking at how it
affected their choices and their costs of living (in Ervin 2005: 106).
As people become more mobile and cities expand, social tensions can rise. At
the other end of the housing market, Brett Williams (2006) work is concerned
with the clashes of culture and class that can arise when urban neighbourhoods
become gentrified, bringing together people from different backgrounds, with
very
different ideas about who belongs in the community, what constitutes
neighbourly
behaviour, and how public space should be used. Even in small, everyday
conflicts,
an understanding of cultural differences is helpful in resolving disputes, which (as
the number of neighbours at war on reality TV illustrates) can escalate rapidly.
Access to housing can also be determined by cultural perceptions. For example,
Kathryn Forbes research showed how stereotypical images of Mexican
farmworkers
created a barrier for them in Californias housing policy:
Despite the desperate need for affordable housing in the rural areas of Fresno
County, local policy makers either have failed to aid or have actively discouraged
attempts to increase the stock of affordable housing . . . Public officials make
policy decisions based on both a land use ideology that rationalizes governmental
failure to serve Mexicans working in the agriculture industry and portraits of
farmworkers and farmworker families that reflect stereotypes . . . This ideology
and these stereotypical profiles operate to render invisible portions of the
Mexican farmworker population who have been working in the area for decades.
(Forbes 2007: 196)
PRESCRIPTION AND PERSUASION

Another basic human need is for health and wellbeing. The involvement of
anthropologists
in medical issues and in health care is examined more closely in Chapter
7, but the general health and welfare of the population is also a major issue for
any government, and a number of anthropologists are employed in assisting
policy
development and implementation in this area. Health care can be intensely
political,
most particularly when access to resources is uneven. Cori Haydens (2007)
work, for
example, is concerned with the ethical and political issues around access to
medical
resources. Her research has focused on the debates in Mexico when the
government,
frustrated by the soaring costs of imported pharmaceutical products, enabled the
legal creation and use of generic similar drugs with the argument that this was
in
the public interest.
In practical terms, there are two key ways of enacting government policies:
legislatively,
through laws and regulations; and through persuasion communicating
and promoting ideas and information, encouraging some kinds of behaviour, and
discouraging others.
One of the major prerequisites for public health is a healthy environment. As
well as researching environmental issues directly (Chapter 4.), anthropologists
work
with the regulatory agencies responsible for protecting public health in a variety
of ways: for example, by ensuring that food providers practise good hygiene; that
industries do not release pollution into the communities where they are located;
and
that individuals do not impinge on the health of their neighbours.
Thus Roberta Hammond (1998) made use of her anthropological training in
understanding the people and the cultural dynamics surrounding her work as an
environmental health specialist in Florida, in Franklin Countys Department of
Community Affairs. Using research methods such as open-ended interviewing

and
participant observation, she was able to elicit as complete a contextual
framework as
possible for the problem or situation at hand:
I incorporated various features of ethnographic field work in the performance of
my duties as a public health official . . . By participating in community life, I was
able to increase my sensitivity to residents concerns and gain a more balanced
view of the issues important to them versus those important to the state. On
the other hand, in the observation mode, impersonal detachment as an outsider
allowed me the use of authority in enforcement and other unpopular actions
necessary for a public health official. In all cases, good listening skills facilitated
better community relations.
While I am sure that differences of gender, socialization, and personality also
affected the outcome of my work, my background in anthropology helped me
to adjust to a difficult field situation. This involved regulating an isolated, rural

community with cultural values far removed from those of the lawmakers in
the state capital and even from my own . . . Anthropologists and anthropology
can provide skills and tools for work in many jobs not normally considered
anthropological . . . My experience underlines what practicing anthropologists
already know: anthropologists need not limit themselves to traditional
academic and research positions; their skills can be applied in a variety of field
circumstances. (Hammon 1998: 197, 199)
Sometimes government policies combine both regulation and persuasion. For

example, in trying to ensure a healthy physical environment, governments
regulate
waste disposal and enforce building codes, while simultaneously trying to
persuade populations to adopt green behaviours such as recycling rubbish and
using energy efficiently. Anthropologists such as Hal Wilhite and his colleagues
have therefore turned their attention to examining household energy use in
America
and Japan (Wilhite 2001), examining the social and cultural factors that
encourage
conservation. Such research, focused on why people do (or dont do) certain
things,
enables government agencies to make judgements about where behaviour might
be
amenable to persuasion or incentives, and where regulation or technical
solutions
may be the only way to achieve change.
Ensuring a healthy environment is only half of the equation. Another major
responsibility
of government agencies, along with delivering direct health care, is in
guiding social practices in relation to health. How people think about and take
care
of their own health is a direct reflection of their cultural beliefs and values, and
an
understanding of these is helpful not just in designing appropriate health
services, but
in actively encouraging populations to maintain or adopt healthy practices. There
are
many potential areas of research here: nutrition, exercise, work-life balance,
sexual
behaviour, alcohol and drug use, mental health and so on. Governments abilities
to regulate health-related behaviour are limited: they can define a legal drinking
age
and pub opening hours, or criminalize drugs, but the governance of health is
more
generally directed towards education and persuasion.
For this, governments require social marketing methods for encouraging
positive social behaviours which arose in part from anthropologys development
of
cultural models. Social marketing campaigns are often health related, focusing,
for
example on family planning and contraceptive use, or safe sex practices.
Cultural anthropologists have contributed a great deal to such efforts. For example,
the brand name given to contraceptives, and they way they are packaged,
is crucial to their acceptance . . . Over the last fifteen years a number of very
concerted social marketing efforts have been directed at the prevention of HIV/
AIDs. (Gwynne 2003a: 241)
Another example of the use of anthropology in social marketing is offered by

Christopher Browns (2002) work with a nonprofit social marketing firm in Tampa,
Florida. Brown was employed to assist a public health programme an early
childhood
intervention scheme that provided social services to families with children
whose development was delayed. The staff observed that although their
programme
could benefit children, many families were not taking advantage of it. Browns
task
was to find out why people were not enrolling their children and to design a social
marketing programme to encourage them to do so. He found two key issues: the
ideas that people had about whether children needed regular visits to
pediatricians
(who were the major point of referral to the programme), and the cultural model
of
health care to which parents subscribed.
The ability to look below the surface and discern the underlying factors is also
vital in a different area of health and welfare: the problem of domestic violence
and abuse. Like other aspects of health and well-being, this requires considerable
sensitivity to cultural beliefs and values, and a careful balance between respect
for
personal and domestic privacy and the protection of peoples basic rights. A good
example is provided by Anannya Bhattacharjees research in New York (2006),
which is concerned with domestic violence in immigrant communities from South
Asia. Bhattacharjee observed that American immigration processes (in which
legal
immigration status is often spouse based) make women highly dependent upon
their husbands, and thus very vulnerable to isolation and abuse. Her work also
revealed that immigrant domestic workers, whose visas are often sponsored by
their
employers, are similarly isolated and disadvantaged:
The employer may deny her sponsorship or hold the power to do so over her.
She is extremely vulnerable to all forms of abuse, often works around the clock,
and may be denied basic subsistence. She, too, can face complete isolation as her
employer can control her movements much like a husband controls those of a
battered wife. (Bhattacharjee, 2006: 343)
Bhattacharjees research shows how respect for the privacy of domestic space
makes it difficult to tackle these problems, and she has used anthropological
analyses
to rethink ideas about private and public spaces, and to suggest some new
directions
in tackling domestic violence and abuse.
Cultural insights are equally important in one of the most fundamental of
responsibilities that societies have: caring for children and ensuring their healthy
development. Anthropologists are involved in many kinds of research relating to
children: for example Pat Caplan (2006) conducts research on the social and
cultural
issues surrounding adoption. Cross-cultural adoptions raise many complex issues
and
are highly controversial, as illustrated by the public debates surrounding
adoptions
by celebrities such as Madonna and Angelina Jolie. This is therefore an area that
is particularly in need of careful social analysis and cultural sensitivity. The
process
of raising children in general is another major area of interest for anthropologists.
Jonathan Green has worked in the area of child care for a number of years, and
observes that
. . . while I became involved . . . largely by chance, I have found numerous intersections
between my work in child care and early childhood education and my
study and research in anthropology . . . Anthropology has much to add to the
field . . . A key contribution is awareness of the importance of culture in defining
interpersonal interactions and discourse . . . Additionally, applied anthropological
concepts of intercultural negotiation and collaborative and cooperative efforts
towards change can contribute to improving the quality of day care . . . How and
what we can teach children in the early years of life has immense repercussions
for the future of the children and our society as a whole . . . it is an area in need
of qualitative and quantitative anthropology research and anthropologically
informed practice. (Green 1998: 1615)
EDUCATION
Many people think that education is simply a matter of going to school and
acquiring
knowledge and skills. However, it is more than that: it is also an important part of
how nation-states construct themselves, ensuring that schooling also teaches
students
allegiance to the state hence American rituals such as flag raising in schools,
and the
recent introduction of citizenship in the UK curriculum. However, globalization
and commoditization have had a major effect on this process. Anthropologists
have
been critical of the reframing of education as a commodity (Cooper 2004) and of
the effects of selling it internationally.
Public education remains the nation-states foremost instrument of forging
citizens. But the emergence of international education, a system explicitly
based on the ideology of globality and outside the purview of national curricula,
provides a way to circumvent the citizen-making machine. This [research], based
on fieldwork among Chinese secondary school students in Hungary, considers
the interaction between international education and transnational migrants in
a nation-state whose public education, as the state itself, has little interest in the
integration of non-natives. (Nyri 2006: 32)
In a contemporary multicultural educational domain, there are many new

questions
to answer, and a major need for cross-cultural understandings. And there are
more fundamental aspects of education to consider. Anthropology has long been
concerned with understanding human processes of cognition and development.
How do people learn? How do societies transmit information between
generations?
How are cultural ideas communicated and contested between groups? How
(and
why) are different kinds of knowledges valorized or set aside?
Educational anthropology is therefore a distinct subfield within the discipline. It
emerged in Western nations in the post-war era, when there was an influx of
diverse
veterans (with equally diverse educational needs) into higher education
institutions.
In America, another important step was the creation of a Council on Anthropology
and Education (CAE) in the 1960s. Ideas at the time, about how a culture of
poverty could be alleviated by education, tended to assume that this meant a
white,
middle-class kind of education. The CAE challenged this view and advocated for
equity, diversity and amelioration of problems affecting education (Kedia and
Van
Willigen 2005: 273).
The need to address different cultural perspectives has grown steadily as many
societies have become more multicultural, and educational services have had to
encompass much greater diversity. As societies have changed, anthropologists
have
charted the changing social and cultural pressures on their educational systems
(Hargreaves et al. 2000). These changes have made education an area in which
the
cross-cultural translatory skills of anthropologists are particularly helpful and, as
in
other areas of knowledge, anthropologists have been key to debates about the
need
for pluralism and acknowledging cultural specificities.
In my observations and analysis, I pondered what might be authentic as
education for the Oglala . . . As I looked at the reservation schools, I saw them
as preaching a single, mythical and homogenized version of America, whereas
the Sioux had every right to ask that their children be socialized into their own
unique ethos. (Wax in Kedia and Van Willigen 2005: 269)
Studies of pre-schools in different cultures have shown wide variations on ideas

about individualism, conformity, critical thinking and giftedness. Rosemary Henze
worked with teachers directly, as well as educational administrators, to assist
them in
encompassing diversity in schools (Henze and Davis 1999), and Nancy Greenman
observes that:
Educational anthropologists know that beliefs about what is best for the good
society and what is envisioned as the good society vary between and within
cultures . . . One cannot live in these times without realizing that notions of good
or effective education are disparate. The choices for educational policy usually
reflect the assumptions and perceptions of the powerful and do not necessarily
benefit all. (Greenman, in Kedia and Van Willigen 2005: 271)
Some anthropologists have conducted research on specific educational

institutions.
For example, one of the early researchers in this area, Gerry Rosenfeld (1971),
conducted detailed ethnographic research in inner city schools, and his classic
text
was seminal in defining racial issues in the educational system.
Other anthropologists have looked at the wider educational context: thus Yvonne
De Gaetano (2007) has considered the importance of involving parents in the
schooling process and ensuring that it has a culturally relevant approach. A
careful
consideration of the social and cultural context of education is important, in order
that the interests of all children including those from minority or disadvantaged
groups are upheld: Most educational anthropologists, some of whom are also
teachers, believe that their specialized knowledge makes them potentially more
effective advocates for children and for amelioration of the issues having an
impact
on their success within their micro- and macro-sociocultural contexts (Kedia and
Van Willigen 2005: 272).
Concha Delgado-Gaitan describes her work as a combination of advocacy and
facilitation: Through my role as a participant-observer, I have become actively
engaged with the community where I research to act as a facilitator. By doing
so
I am able to act as an advocate for the families, using research data to inform
and
develop agency for the people as they shape policies and practices in the schools
and
the community at large (Delgado-Gaitan, in Kedia and van Willigen 2005: 272).
In multicultural societies, language is also an educational issue both in terms
of assisting the children of new immigrants in acquiring sufficient language to
participate in the educational process, and in maintaining indigenous languages.
Thus
Lotty Elderling, working with immigrant families in the Netherlands, highlighted
the need for immigration policy to address language acquisition among
immigrants,
to improve their childrens performance in school and their overall social mobility
(Elderling, in Kedia and van Willigen 2005: 283).
There is also a role for anthropologists in nurturing native languages (see
Reyhner et al. 2003). Many indigenous communities, inhabiting larger societies
and economies, struggle to uphold their own cultural traditions. Keeping
languages
alive is central to these efforts, and linguistic anthropologists have often focused
their research on understanding and documenting languages not previously
written
down, in order to explore the diverse worldviews that they express, and to assist
contemporary indigenous communities in their educational endeavours. There is
also a broader role in assisting the integration of these languages into
educational
systems. Anthropologists have been closely involved in this, and countries such
as Canada, America, Australia and New Zealand have now made major efforts to
introduce indigenous educational material to their curricula, along with
indigenous
languages and pedagogies.

In Australia, for example, there are now multiple efforts to make use of Aboriginal
languages and culture in the Australian educational system. Thus, in the
Aboriginal
community where I work in northern Australia, elders from each of the local
language
groups participate in the school as advisors and educators, focusing on
traditional
knowledge, which is also incorporated into the schools literacy material. Working
for the Australian Council for Educational Research in the Learning Process, Nola
Purdie notes that a recent National Plan for education affirmed the need to value
indigenous languages:
Such recognition must be heartening for indigenous people. Their languages
have a unique place in Australias heritage and in its cultural and educational life.
For indigenous learners they are fundamental to strengthening identity and selfesteem.
For non-indigenous learners they provide a focus for the development
of cultural understanding and reconciliation. (Purdie 2008: 1)
In New Zealand too, schools and universities have attempted to incorporate

Maori and Pasifika languages and pedagogies, as well as European educational
methodologies,
and similar work is being done in North America. Teresa McCarty, for
example, works with Lucille Watahomigie under the wing of the American Indian
Language Development Institute at the University of Arizona, conducting a range
of
projects designed to reverse the ongoing language loss in Native communities.
If new generations are not to forget the heritage language and the collective
memory it holds, then traditional language learning environments must be
reconfigured and restored, and new ones created . . . Collaborations between
school personnel and community members, and between the school community
and educational and linguistic anthropologists, have been central . . . Our goal
is to illustrate the possibilities not just for bringing the language back but . . .
moving it forward into new social contexts as well. (McCarty and Watahomigie
2002: 354)
Anthropology has been influential in encouraging this more diverse approach

and Donna Deyhle notes that in a Dine/Navajo school district, One issue that
has changed, and is very exciting, is that the district seems to be coming full
circle
moving from a racially based decision no Navajo language or culture to
using
Navajo language and culture in the school curriculum to enhance student
success.
Rather than ignoring the ethnographic research, they are trying to come back
on
board (in Kedia and Van Willigen 2005: 290).
Anthropologists commitment to upholding cultural diversity has therefore had
an impact on policies relating to curriculum development, most particularly in
encouraging efforts to create culturally relevant approaches. There is a related
need
to help students understand the influence of culture on what happens in schools.
In Chicago, for example, the Chicago Field Museum runs a Cultural Connections
programme, which uses anthropological concepts to help teachers, parents and
children to engage with cultural diversity in local neighbourhoods:
The Center for Cultural Understanding and Change (CCUC) at The Field
Museum uses problem-solving anthropological research to identify and catalyze
strengths and assets of communities in Chicago and beyond. In doing so,
CCUC helps communities identify new solutions to critical challenges such
as education, housing, health care, environmental conservation, and leadership
development. Through research, programs, and access to collections, CCUC
reveals the power of cultural difference to transform social life and promote
social change. (Chicago Field Museum 2008)
Anthropological research in education is not confined to schools: in Australia, for

example, they have been involved in the design of special educational
programmes
aimed at public servants, in particular the police, to introduce them to Aboriginal
concepts of justice and law, before they go to work in indigenous communities.
As well as helping to develop educational policies, anthropologists are also
employed in evaluating them.
Traditional ethnographic concepts and techniques applied to evaluation enable
the insiders voice to be heard and have an impact on policy decision-making
. . . an ethnographic approach to evaluation allows for a more meaningful and
fair evaluation of a situation, classroom or event. . . This approach has stirred
the imaginations and emotions of many evaluators. It is designed to help
people learn how to evaluate their own program. It is built on the premise that
the insiders view or emic perspective matters. (Fetterman, in Kedia and Van
Willigen 2005: 299)
There are thus many areas of human services in which it is useful to have
anthropological training indeed, as each deals with humans, and their complex
ideas and values, it is reasonable to say that there is no area of human service in
which such training would NOT be useful. Anthropology can therefore make a
contribution to many potentially all areas of governance: to the design of new
policies; to their implementation, and to evaluations of their efficacy in providing
for human needs.
6 ANTHROPOLOGY,
BUSINESS
AND INDUSTRY
MONEY MATTERS
Anthropologists understand that work is not just about process, its about people.
If you lose sight of that, you lose.
Anita Ward, Senior Vice President, Texas Commerce Bank
Economic activity, in whatever form, is central to human societies, so it has

always
been a key area of study for anthropologists. Most societies now rely heavily on a
diverse range of businesses and industries, and all, to varying degrees,
participate in
a globalizing economic market (see Fisher and Downey 2006). The anthropology
of economic life has changed accordingly, and today researchers are involved in
examining a host of different aspects of how people make a living: thus they
work
with resource industries; a range of service and manufacturing industries;

designers
and architects; communications and media industries; and market research and
advertising companies.
As in other areas, anthropologists think about the internal dynamics of human
groups, and also about the wider, external issues that shape these. So when it
comes to working with industries, they consider their organizational cultures, and
also the larger social and economic context in which production takes place. The
most compelling external reality for contemporary businesses and industries is
the
process of globalization and its vast and volatile international markets. As
observed
in previous chapters, globalization is of considerable interest to social scientists,
and
many anthropologists have focused on it directly, considering how it affects
different
communities, demanding new economic practices and disseminating a range of
cultural ideas and values.
Globalization is a pattern of economic and cultural change involving mutual
influence of previously separate and distinct societies. This is not a new phenomenon,
because the entire period of colonization was one of unequal transnational
economic and cultural exchange. In the postcolonial world, the
processes of globalization are made possible by the advent of world capitalism.
Multinational corporations are now world powers operating in a world market.
On the local level, the flow of investment, profit and consumer goods across
borders can provide access to cash for the producers of some luxury goods. In
the long run, however, the evidence indicates that peripheral peoples become
less well-off because of globalization, while wealth becomes more and more
concentrated in the hands of a small elite. (Bestor 2003: 367)
Theodore Bestor looked at globalization in the fishing industry, examining how

sushi came to be eaten internationally, and how the creation of a wider market
affected bluefin tuna fishers, whose catch is now auctioned for vast sums and
flown
across the world. He underlines the dynamism of the process as well as its
capacity
for creating new transnational, inter-cultural relationships and internationalizing
previously particular cultural tastes:
Bluefin tuna may seem at first an unlikely case study in globalization. But as
the world rearranges itself around silicon chips, Starbucks coffee, or sashimigrade
tuna new channels for global flows of capital and commodities link farflung
individuals and communities in unexpected new relationships. The tuna
trade is a prime example of the globalization of a regional industry, with intense
international competition and thorny environmental regulations; centuries-old
a n t h r o p o l o g y , b u s i n e s s a n d i n d u s t r y 95
practices combined with high technology; realignments of labor and capital

in response to international regulation; shifting markets; and the diffusion of
culinary culture as tastes for sushi, and bluefin tuna, spread worldwide. (Bestor
2003: 368)
Caren Kaplan (1995) was an early analyst of globalization. She has considered
the way that ethical corporations such as the Body Shop and Ben and Jerrys
promulgate notions of a world without boundaries in which, through
multinational
corporations, European traders deal directly with producers rather than
middlemen. The Body Shop proposed that free trade without middlemen means
liberation (Kaplan 1995: 430). Kaplans critique of the way that this advertising
represents a multinational enterprise is an important one, highlighting the
language
that is used and the values about globalization and capitalism that it carries. She
looks at how the world is represented in these discourses, as a place where
there is a
flow of culture and capital between the West and communities that are
celebrated as
native, authentic or tribal. As an illustration of this rosy view, she examines a
joint
advertisement by American Express and The Body Shop:
Trade Not Aid is a way of trading honorably with indigenous communities in
disadvantaged areas not changing the environment or the culture. Instead we
listen to what these people need and try to help them with it. What we bring
back with us are stories how they do things, the connections; the essential
wisdom of indigenous groups . . . Customers come into the Body Shop to buy
hair conditioner and find a story about the Xingu reserve and the Kayapo Indians
who collect Brazil nuts for us. We showed them a simple process for extracting
oil from the nut, which consequently raises the value of the raw ingredient we
use. The result is we pay them more for it, and that gives them an alternative
to their logging income, which in turn protects the rain forest. (Anita Roddick.
Advertisement in Kaplan 1995)
Kaplan carefully picked apart the messages in this material, which, she says, can
be read as the celebrity marriage of entrepreneurial capitalism to bourgeois
feminist
travel-and-adventure motifs:
First, the ad copy refers to a site of consumption that can only be in a metropolitan
location where information about the Xingu reserve and the Kayapo Indians
will be pleasingly novel. It assumes that the customer in the metropole will
enter a store to buy a mundane item such as hair conditioner only to procure
simultaneously something different. Secondly, it is implied that consumption
leads not only to the pleasure of owning something but to the acquisition of a
moral object lesson in Roddicks entrepreneurial philosophy, a set of practices
she calls Trade not Aid. Trade not Aid emits bits of 1980s-style Thatcher
Reagan injunctions in the 1990s, displaying a savvy, neoconservative message all
wrapped up in environmentally sensitive packaging. Finally, Roddick mystifies

the conditions of production through primitivism. The Kayapo, a tribe that
is well-known in anthropological and environmentalist circles for resisting
both national and corporate domination by utilizing sophisticated media, are
depicted as simple story tellers who convey an essential wisdom. (Kaplan,
1995: 4356)
As Kaplan points out, the discourse gives a simple, polarized view of developed
and underdeveloped First and Third world people, and a vision of
vanishing natives who require managed altruism from a concerned source of
capital development . . . the benevolent capitalism of The Body Shop . . . What
is particularly chilling to me is The Body Shops representation of a corporate
replacement of the nation-state. It appears to be The Body Shop that funds and
manages development projects, just as it appears to be The Body Shop that
addresses health care, financing, and environmental concerns in its global
reach . . . Both the written text and the images in these ads glamorize and seek
to legitimate unequal transnational economic relations . . . The myth of a world
without boundaries leaves our material differences intact and even exacerbates
the asymmetries of power that stratify our lived experiences. (Kaplan 1995:
4379)
Although Kaplan uses the ethical Body Shop as an example, her major point
is not to have a go at this particular company: her aim is rather to show how
representations
create imaginary communities and mask the real economic workings
of business and commerce and the inequalities that are created and maintained
by
global capitalism. There is an underlying issue a vital one for human societies
about the weakening of democratic processes as the functions and services of
elected
governments are taken over by multinational corporations accountable only to
their
shareholders.1
Global business is concerned, fundamentally, with the use and distribution of
resources. This is particularly evident in resource-based industries, such as
mining,
oil exploration and as noted earlier materials such as timber, and food
production.
Because global economies are reaching further and further into what were until
recently remote areas, many anthropologists who work with indigenous
communities
and peasant societies are now considering how these deal with the incursion of
enthusiastic developers and greater involvement in expanding global markets.
This expansion has major social and environmental implications, as
demonstrated,
for example, by Stuart Kirschs (2001) research with communities in Papua
New Guinea, where mining has become a major part of the countrys economy.
Kirschs work, which I mentioned in Chapter 1, points to the massive ecological
damage caused by mining in the headwaters of the Ok Tedi river, and its
economic
and social effects on the communities in the area. Observing the dominance of
transnational corporations in the equation, he points to the local communities
relative powerlessness and inability to demand environmental protection, in an
area
vital to their social and economic well-being (Kirsch 2003).
FIELDWORK ON THE FLY

Stuart Kirsch
Consultant and Visiting Assistant Professor, University of Michigan
When I first went to work among the Yonggom people of Papua New Guinea, I had to
hitch a ride on the
Motuan Chief, a ship carrying supplies from Port Moresby to Kiunga on the Fly River.
We crossed the Gulf of
Papua, following the route of the annual hiri expeditions in which villagers sailed in
huge canoes to exchange
clay pots and shells for sago flour and canoe hulls. After a day and a night, the
Motuan Chief reached the
mouth of the Fly. Kiwai people approached in outrigger canoes, offering to trade
bananas and fresh fish. As
we travelled upriver, the boat stopped to provide supplies to people in tiny, isolated
villages. Thick rainforest
crowded the river, but subsequently opened up into the patchwork of lagoons and
islands where the Gogodala
people live. Their enormous longhouses, canoe races, and celebrated wood carvings
are combined with a brand

of evangelical Christianity that impinges on many of their traditional practices.
Midway through our journey
we entered the savannah grasslands that the Boazi people call home. Later I learned
that they used to prey
on the Yonggom in their headhunting raids. Nearer our destination, the rainforest
surrounded the river again.
Flocks of hornbills flew overhead and the raucous cries of cockatoos disturbed the
quiet afternoon. Finally, after
five days, we reached the town of Kiunga.
It took another days travel by motor-canoe to the village on the Ok Tedi River where I
lived for two years.
The purpose of my research was to learn about the myth, magic, and rituals of the
Yonggom people. During my
first week, a group of men took me into the rainforest to tell me the secret myths
associated with their male
initiation ceremony. From that moment, I was hooked: despite the heat, humidity, and
malaria of the lowland
rainforest, this was clearly the place for me! Eventually my new friends would call
upon me to reciprocate their
generosity in welcoming me into their lives.
Upstream from Kiunga is the Ok Tedi copper and gold mine, which began production
in the mid-1980s.
Plans for a dam to protect the river from pollution were never fully implemented. The
mine discharged 80,000
metric tons of tailings the particles that remain after the ore is extracted into the
river every day. To
date, one billion metric tons of tailings and other mine wastes have been dumped
into the river system, and
more than 1,500 square kilometres of rainforest have been affected, destroying the
habitat of the fish, birds, and
other animals which used to live there. The mine wastes and their impacts will
slowly move downstream
towards the Gulf of Papua over the next two centuries. The savannah grasslands
where the Boazi live will be
flooded for eight months of the year; the Gogodalas lagoons will fill with silt from the
mine; and the mangrove
forests of the Kiwai will be substantially reduced. It remains to be seen whether new
problems with acid mine
drainage, which releases poisonous heavy metals into the food chain, can be brought
under control.
After living with the Yonggom for two years, I began my journey home. There had
been a rebellion on the
island of Bougainville, which shut down Papua New Guineas largest copper mine.
Bougainvilleans objected to
the mines environmental impacts and the governments failure to distribute its
economic benefits. The resulting
civil war lasted more than a decade. Boarding a ship in Kiunga for Port Moresby one
morning, I reached up to
climb over the side of the boat, clutching a souvenir bow and arrows in one hand.
When the crew saw these,
they called out in fear, imagining that they were under attack by opponents of the Ok
Tedi mine!
I assumed that my time in Papua New Guinea was almost over, but soon realized that
no one in the capital

was aware of the magnitude of the impacts of the Ok Tedi mine. At a lecture at the
national university, in a
newspaper editorial, and as a guest on a national talk radio program, I warned Papua
New Guineans that the
fate of the entire Fly River was at risk.
These events launched me on a path of activist anthropology. After years of
unsuccessful petitions and protests,
the people living downstream from the mine sued Broken Hill Proprietary, Ltd (BHP),
its majority shareholder
and managing partner. The case was settled out of court for an estimated US$500
million in compensation
and commitments to implement tailings containment. Subsequently, when BHP
continued to dump tailings into
the river, the landowners returned to the courts but were unsuccessful in gaining
legal redress. However, BHP
decided that the Ok Tedi mine was no longer compatible with our environmental
values and transferred its
share of the project to a trust fund that will support economic development in Papua
New Guinea. Given the
current high prices for gold and copper, this fund may eventually be worth US$1
billion.
Throughout their political struggle, I have continued to work with the Yonggom and
their neighbours. I
advised their lawyers, wrote about the social impact of the mine, and collaborated
with environmental NGOs
and human rights organizations in Papua New Guinea, Australia, and the United
States. I spoke about these
issues at the United Nations, advised the World Bank on its support of the mining
industry, and published a
Work that reveals the deeper effects of a globalizing economy underlines the
fact that anthropology is not just about applying qualitative methods: it requires
theory and analysis that enables practitioners to look under the surface and
make
social action more transparent. It also implies a level of intellectual
independence,
derived from scientific training, and upheld by the ethical codes that guide the
discipline. In reflecting on globalization, anthropologists have tended to unsettle
comfortable assumptions popularly made about the benefits of economic growth,
and the utility of the market as a force for positive change. As in other
applications
of anthropology, researchers therefore find themselves both standing back to
reflect
critically on issues and, with a more internal role, trying to conduct research in a
way
that properly incorporates ethical principles.
ANTHROPOLOGISTS IN BUSINESS
Business and industrial companies are, ultimately, social communities. They
share
a common purpose, often have common training (for example through business
schools, or vocational institutions), and develop their own internal cultures. They
are therefore very amenable to the kind of organizational research discussed
earlier
in this volume: research that specializes in gaining an understanding of
institutional
cultures, how these work internally and how they interact with larger social and
economic networks (Corsin-Jimnez 2007).
In multicultural societies and globalizing economies, businesses and industries
increasingly contain people from diverse cultural groups. They have to manage
this
diversity. Many also have international networks of relationships that bring
further
and sometimes even more diverse cultural perspectives into the equation.
The
cultural translation skills of anthropology, and its ability to provide in-depth
understandings
of social behaviour are therefore an important part of the work that
anthropologists do in this sphere.
book about the experiences of the Yonggom (Kirsch 2006). Recently I tried to
convince my own university that
it erred in inviting BHP Billiton to advise a campus initiative on sustainability.
When I first visited Papua New Guinea, the village on the Ok Tedi River seemed like
an archetypal out
of the way place. Since then, the mine has become one of the most infamous
environmental disasters in the
world. I never expected to become involved in the struggle of indigenous peoples
against threats to their
environment and way of life. Studying anthropology is the beginning of a long and
exciting journey, and what
happens along the way is filled with surprises!
Anthropologist Elizabeth Briody earned her Ph.D. studying communities of
Mexican-American farm workers and Catholic nuns. For the past 11 years,
though, shes been studying a different community the men and women
of General Motors. As GMs industrial anthropologist, Briody explores the
intricacies of life at the company. Its not all that different from her previous
work. Anthropologists help elicit the cultural patterns of an organization she
says. What rules do people have about appropriate and inappropriate behaviour?
How do they learn those rules and pass them on to others?
Briody is a pioneer in a growing and influential field corporate anthropology.
What began as an experiment in a handful of companies such as GM
has become an explosion. In recent years, some of the biggest names in business
have recruited highly trained anthropologists to understand their workers and
customers better, and to help design products that better reflect emerging
cultural trends. (Kane 1996: 60)
Kate Kane presents a range of other examples: Sue Squires work with Andersen
Worldwide, instructing accountants in different ways of doing business around
the
world; Patricia Sachs research with telecommunications design engineers at
Nynex;
Tony Salvadors work as an engineering ethnographer at Intel (Kane 1996: 60).
Kane
suggests that this new popularity is due to anthropologys holistic approach
which is
well suited to tackling the complexities of contemporary business activities.
Anthropologists therefore bring to business and industry a unique intellectual
perspective from which to consider events analytically. As John Seely Brown, the
head
of the Xerox corporations research and development section observed:
anthropology
and anthropologists let you view behaviour through a new set of glasses (in
Roberts
2006: 73). Having discovered the benefits of doing so, Xerox now regularly
employs
anthropologists. And they are not alone: the number of anthropologists working
as
employees for businesses, or assisting them as consultants, is growing rapidly
(see
Morris and Bastin 2004). As Jennifer Laabs observes: the corporate jungle is full
of
cultural anomalies. Business anthropologists are helping to solve some of them:
Chances are, an anthropologist wouldnt be the first business expert youd call
if you wanted a better mouse-trap or a better HR program . . . But maybe
they should be . . . many companies have found that anthropologists expertise
as cultural scientists is quite useful in gaining insight into human behaviour . . .
Anthropologists study many different areas of business, but essentially they are
all people watchers of one sort or another. Business anthropologists have been
studying the corporate world for years. (Laabs 1998: 61)
Laabs (1998) notes that over 200 anthropologists were employed in corporate
America, advising businesses on a range of issues, how to encourage creativity;
how to manage human resource issues; and how to resolve conflicts and
encourage
collaboration. As in other ethnographic contexts, anthropologists in business try
to understand what is going on under the surface. In an organization, this may
mean approaching even mundane things like meetings as analytic opportunities
to
see what is really going and how decisions actually get made. Helen
Schwartzman,
for example, took a close look at meetings in an American mental health centre,
and suggested that they provide a useful context for understanding events within
organizations: Meetings are a basic and pervasive part of this life, and yet
because
they are so prevalent in American society, so ordinary and frequently so boring,
their
significance as a social form has not been recognized or examined
(Schwartzman
1987: 271).
SEEING ALTERNATIVE SOLUTIONS

Ralph Bishop
Global Manager, Qualitative Research, ISR, Chicago
I am currently manager of qualitative research for an international human resources

and organization
development consulting firm. This entails design and analysis of structured
interviews, open-ended survey
questions, and analysis of the results. I became involved in this kind of work purely
by chance. I signed on as
a freelance editor and everybody I reported to quit, so I had the opportunity to take
over the department!

The most important thing anthropology does is to help people see alternate solutions
to problems, largely
because it sees more information as relevant than more constrained methodologies.
Statistics tell you what;
qualitative input tells you why. You need both.
Anthropologists in the corporate world also consider cultural differences in ideas

about what a job is, and what it is meant to achieve. For example, Lorna
McDougall
works as a staff anthropologist at Arthur Andersens Center for Professional
Education
in Illinois, studying why some people learn better from lectures while others do
so interactively, and thinking about how to integrate multicultural learning into
training. This helped companies to develop better training programmes, and led
managing director Pete Pesce to comment that an anthropologist brings a lot of
value to an organization (in Laabs 1998: 61).
Businesses and industries all seek to define and represent a particular identity.
With his colleague Anthony Giannini, Roger McConochie helps organizations
to rethink their corporate history and mythology: Companies need a clear ego
sense: a continual sense of organizational self over time . . . From my
experience in
corporations, the people on the shop floor have as much need for meaning in
their
lives as the people in the boardroom (in Laabs 1998: 613).
Good management depends on a clear understanding of what is going on in a
company and anthropology can help to reveal this. A classic example is provided
by Julian Orrs work with Xerox. He did ethnographic research with a group of the
technicians who service Xeroxs machines, and he found that their training never
kept pace with the new technology that was being introduced. To cope with this
they
developed an important sub-cultural set of war stories about past machine
failures
and heroic saves, which served to communicate ideas about what might work to
get
them out of a jam. Orr showed Xerox how this was functioning:
Once Xerox found out how technicians solved difficult machine problems,
it decided to facilitate and develop this grassroots approach by equipping
technicians with mobile radio phones that would enable them to call each
other in the field or to contact a roving tiger team comprised of highly skilled
troubleshooters . . . Orrs discovery of the economic power of storytelling within
an occupational community provides an unforgettable illustration of the power
of culture in an organization. (Kedia and Van Willigen 2005: 247)
There are many such sub-cultures in the workplace: groups of people united by
common knowledge and expertise, professional training, a particular language
and
of course by the particular kind of work that they do. Members of occupational
or professional groups often have characteristics that parallel those found in
smallscale
societies, such as a unique system of meanings, practices, and a language that
distinguishes them from other work groups (Baba 2005: 230).
Sometimes the members of particular groups form their own sub-cultural blocs in
a company. Marietta Baba points to a wide range of anthropological studies of
these:
Herbert Applebaums study of construction crews; Elizabeth Lawrences
ethnography
on rodeo participants; and other anthropological research on accountants,
locomotive engineers, longshoremen, medical school students, nightclub
strippers,
police, professional dance musicians, social workers, timber loggers, underground
miners, waiters (Baba 2005: 230). Nancy Rosenberger comments that
Anthropological research goes beyond the official corporate culture into the
experiences and perceptions that make up the culture of work . . . Anthropologists
also illuminate subcultures of work behaviors and values unique to a particular
group of workers by talking with and observing workers who vary by age,
gender, education, socioeconomic status, ethnic background, or by level and job
within the organization. (Rosenberger 2002: 4034)
Rosenbergers own research examined a subculture of young, single women in

Japan and Korea, looking at their different experiences of professional work. Most
were employed in quite lowly positions, in tasks supportive of mens activities in
the
workplace. The research considered how they managed this role, and highlighted
the glass ceiling that prevented them from advancing up the corporate ladder
(Rosenberger 2002).
Anthropologists also consider how local work cultures are formed by wider
cultural contexts. For example, Thomas Rohlens classic research on daily life in a
Japanese bank, Uedagin, examined the training of young people in preparation
for
a lifelong career of service. As Baba says, from this vantage point we can see
how
the national culture of Japan shapes the subculture of the banking occupation in
a
Japanese setting (Baba 2005: 242).
MULTINATIONAL AND MULTICULTURAL

COMMUNICATION
As noted at the beginning of this chapter, as well as having internal cultures and
sometimes sub-cultures, businesses and industries also have a set of external
relationships
with other groups at national and international levels. These require careful
management, and depend, more than anything else, on effective communication.
At the most basic level, this means being able to speak the language. English is
the mother tongue of only 5 per cent of the worlds population, yet Gary Ferraro
notes that many Westerners enter the international business arena without
studying
languages at all. A study of US firms reveals that only 31 per cent considered
foreign
languages necessary, and only 20 per cent of them required their employees
overseas
to know the local language:
International business firms require effective communication at a number of
levels. A company must communicate with its work force, customers, suppliers,
and host government officials. Effective communication among people from
the same culture is difficult enough. But when attempting to communicate
with people who do not speak English and who have different attitudes, ideas,
assumptions, perceptions, and ways of doing things, ones chances for miscommunication
increase enormously. (Ferraro 1998: 98)
Ferraro offers several well-known instances of mis-translation:

In Flemish, General Motors body by Fisher became Corpse By Fisher.
In Chinese, Pepsi-Colas slogan Come Alive With Pepsi became Pepsi will bring
your ancestors back from the grave.
In Brazil, a US Airline promised plush rendezvous lounges in its first class
sections without realizing that, in Portuguese, this implies a room for making
love.
When an American chicken entrepreneur translated a slogan into Spanish, It
takes a tough man to make a tender chicken became It takes a virile man to
make a chicken affectionate.
The list continues: cigarettes with low tar have been advertised as having
asphalt;
computers have acquired underwear instead of software; and a hydraulic ram
has
been listed in an engineering manual as a wet sheep (Ferraro 1998)
While entertaining, these mis-translations also serve to underline Ferraros point
that language is the doorway to understanding culture, beliefs and values to
getting
to grips with a different worldview:
If international business people are to be successful, there is no substitute for
an intimate acquaintance with both the language and the culture of those with
whom they are conducting business. Because of the close relationship between
language and culture, it is almost impossible not to learn about one while
studying the other. (Ferraro 1998: 98)
Language is of course not just a matter of words. It reveals basic cultural

dynamics,
showing, for example, how cultural groups think about the importance of
the individual versus the importance of groups; how they value (or dont value)
open
disagreement; how formal or informal, hierarchical or non-hierarchical they are.
There are different ways of saying no; different uses and meanings of silence.
Much
communication is non-verbal, and what can seem friendly and open in one
culture
may be seen as aggressive and disrespectful in another.
When I was preparing to go and do my doctoral fieldwork with an Australian
Aboriginal community, I read a short text by John Von Sturmer, called Talking
With Aborigines (1981) which outlined some of the cultural conventions that I
would meet in the field: the need not to march up to people or their camps
directly,
but to approach them elliptically; the need to use kin terms rather than personal
names; the convention that when people die their names are not spoken for
some
time. There are also more subtle issues about how different adoptive kin require
different relationships: some involve joking relationships, some are more formal;
some require strict avoidance; some involve social and economic responsibilities.
The use of silence in Aboriginal communities is complex, and cannot be taken to
mean agreement at all. Such preparation, and lengthy fieldwork, is essential to
an
understanding of local beliefs and values and ways of understanding the world.
In order to work effectively all anthropologists have to do this kind of thing and,
as a result, they are well equipped to assist others in coming at least part of the
way
down the same road. Although people doing business may not need the depth
of
cultural understanding and engagement that ethnographic fieldwork requires, it
is
certainly helpful for them to have some idea about the cultural norms that prevail
in
the communities with whom they are involved. There is thus a very useful role for
anthropologists in assisting them in this regard. As Richard Reeves-Ellington
(2003:
247) says: Business people who are more culturally aware are also more
successful.
He designed and implemented a cross-cultural training programme for an
American
company that was doing business in Japan. About 50 employees participated in
this
and the long-term results were impressive. Project managers who took the
cultural
training program were able to cut project completion time nearly in half and
increase
the financial returns from the projects threefold (Reeves-Ellington 2003).
In essence, Reeves-Ellington teaches business-people to use the basic methods
developed by anthropologists to describe and analyse cultural settings. He
enables
them to think about the way that things are classified in a particular cultural
space;
to discern local principles for behaviour; and to consider the values that drive
these.
He encourages them to think about the cultural logic that they encounter how
do people engage with their environment? What do they consider to be truth and
reality? What is their view of human nature? How do they approach relationships
and define the purpose of activities? How do they use their time?
He gives his trainees a lot of information about the values and behavioural rituals
implicit in business interactions in Japan, for example explaining the formal
rituals
and ideas that surround business card exchange; the seating arrangements of
tables
for meetings; the kinds of conference practices that are expected, and the
importance
of reciprocity in ritual exchanges.
Cultural translation is equally helpful in enabling different groups to communicate
across global networks. Thus Emily Martins (1996) work examines how scientists
create a global system of professional knowledge, and how non-scientists
interpret
this work and respond to it. Working in immunology research laboratories and
clinical settings, Martin considered, in particular, how people make sense of
medical
images, using them to imagine and respond to medical issues. Public
understandings
of science have major implications for many science and technology industries,
defining how their products will be received and used, so these ethnographic
insights
have considerable potential to assist the design and presentation of information.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND COMMUNICATIONS

MEDIA
A lot of public information about science and technology, and indeed about most
ideas and products, is gained through a range of media: newspapers, radio,
television,
billboards and so on. Businesses and industries rely almost entirely on these
to communicate with their target audiences, and in this representational arena,
as in
more direct interpersonal forms of communication, cross-cultural translation and
an
analytic eye are useful.
Elizabeth Colson and Conrad Kottak make the point that in a globalizing world
it is vital for us to consider the way that communications media create multiple
linkages between local, regional, national and international spheres of activity,
exposing people to external institutions and alternative ways of life (Colson and
Kottak 1996). Kottaks own research is concerned with how the introduction of
television has changed local life in Brazil. He did a longitudinal study with four
communities, looking at their engagement with TV over time (Kottak 1996).
Kottaks research revealed several stages: an initial period in which the novelty
of the technology meant that the medium was more of a focus than the
message;
then a stage at which people were highly receptive to its messages. Things would
then settle down into a more subtle and pervasive mode, in which its influence
was revealed in changes in behaviour and cultural choices. He makes the point
that
electronic media instantaneously transmit information and images within and
across
national boundaries, and that in doing so it is a major socializing agent,
competing
with family, school, peers, community and church. It directs attention towards
some
things and away from others, casting television directors as knowledge
gatekeepers
and regulating public access to information. The mass media play an
increasingly
prominent role in national and international culture. They propel a globally
spreading culture of consumption, stimulating participation in the cash economy.
Particularly for non-literate people, the most significant mass medium is
television
(Kottak 1996: 135).
The research also showed that this is not simple matter of globalization and
homogenization: local cultural variations make a major difference to how TV is
engaged with and received: As print has done for centuries . . . the electronic
mass
media can also spread, and even create, national and ethnic identities. Like print,
television and radio can diffuse the cultures of different countries within their
own
boundaries, thus enhancing national cultural identity (Kottak 1996: 135).
The issue of how media contribute to the way that people imagine their own
and others identities is also the focus of Daniel Lefkowitzs (2001) research on
the
Israeli newspaper business. He notes Teun Van Djiks observation that the way
news
is portrayed often perpetuates racism and prejudice, for example by linking
minority
ethnic groups and crime, and reproducing ideologically dominant representations
of identity. Obviously this has major social and political implications, and there
are
connections with the kind of work discussed in Chapter 1, in which
anthropologists
involved in advocacy and conflict resolution try to combat stereotypical
representations by providing in-depth ethnographic accounts of cultural groups
and
their worldviews.
The way that people perceive and represent their own identity also has a major
impact on how they engage with the market, for example influencing what they
choose to buy; what they want to eat; what they want to read; and what they
want to
see on television. In working with business and industry, a number of
anthropologists
are involved in this area of research. For example, Simon Roberts consultancy
firm
specializes in examining peoples responses to media:
[It is] a small research company called Ideas Bazaar that currently employs
four people full time, and a host of freelance researchers, many graduates or
postgraduates of anthropology. Our work to date has focused on three principal
areas, some by design, some by accident: Print and Broadcast Media, Technology
and Communications, and Organisations and Change. (Roberts 2006: 76)
The consultancys research has covered a variety of areas: conducting audience

research and getting involved in programme ideas development for the BBC;
making
investigations of mobile phone use; studying peoples late-night television
viewing
and their readership of local and regional newspapers.
Additionally, I and other Ideas Bazaar associates are involved with the iSociety
research project at the London-based not-for-profit think-tank and consultancy,
The Work Foundation [which] investigates the impact of information
and communications technologies in the UK . . . Most iSociety projects use
ethnographic research as a first choice methodology . . . Broadly speaking we help
our clients understand the worlds in which they operate, from their audiences
perspectives, and then we assist them in acting upon this understanding. Our
job, as we see it, is to give them a new understanding of a familiar environment.
(Roberts 2006: 767)
Anthropological experience is also useful in ensuring that communications are

culturally sensitive. A few years ago, the Royal Anthropological Institute
responded
to a request from the UKs Advertising Standards Board to review advertisements
in terms of their cultural meanings, and advise the Board accordingly. The panel,
composed of anthropologists working in different parts of the world, was able to

put
forward a range of perspectives on the meanings that might be ascribed to the
ads by
diverse cultural groups.
As writers such as Sean Nixon (2003) and Liz McFall (2004) have observed,
advertising
is of course intimately concerned with cultural beliefs and values, hoping to
present products in a way that accords with what is considered culturally
desirable.
Advertising content and how people respond to it is therefore fertile ground for
anthropological analysis, as is the advertising culture of the companies who
produce
this particular product.2 There are many ways to approach the analysis of
advertising:
for example, in his work with Japanese advertising agencies, Brian Moeran, who
is
based at the Copenhagen Business School, thinks of it classically as storytelling:
An advertising agency may be seen as a dedicated storytelling organization . . .
Participant observation in the agency has impressed upon me that making ads
is mainly a matter of talk. There is talk about accounts, rival agencies, and all
the people and institutions (corporate clients, publishing houses, television
networks, production shops, celebrities, and so on) that constitute the field of
Japanese advertising. There is talk about ad campaigns themselves about how
one marketing analysis successfully repositioned a luxury item as an everyday
commodity, or another creative idea enabled a product to speak to an elusive
consumer group, and so on. (Moeran 2007: 160)
Robert Morais conducts research on advertising organizations in America.

Seeking to unpack the client-agency relationship he follows Helen
Schwartzmans
(1987) example in studying meetings, focusing on those
. . . between the manufacturer (client) and the advertising agency, where advertising
ideas are presented, discussed, and selected. Although the participants enter
these meetings with the common goal of reaching agreement on the ideas that will
be advanced to the next step in the creative development process, the attendees
have additional, sometimes conflicting, professional and personal objectives.
To achieve their objectives, meeting participants must have a command of
unwritten rules, understand subtle verbal and nonverbal behavior, comprehend
and navigate the delicate client-agency balance of power, demonstrate the
craft of negotiation, and impress their superiors. American advertising creative
meetings contain the defining attitudes, behaviors, and symbols of the clientagency
relationship. (Morais 2007: 150)
MARKETING ANTHROPOLOGY
A natural extension of investigating communications between manufacturers and

customers is in the area of marketing. Market Research is often considered as
a separate disciplinary field, but it draws heavily on the data collection methods
of the social sciences. In recent years it has enlarged its appreciation of in-depth
qualitative approaches such as ethnography, and is also beginning to recognize
that
analytic approaches applying anthropological theory to elucidate human
behaviour
can be useful (Mariampolski 2006). As Patricia Sunderland and Rita Denny
(2008) have shown, there are now major opportunities in consumer research for
anthropologists.
Anthropologists themselves have a range of views about involvement in this
field.
For Adam Drazin, anthropological skills have considerable utility in a wider
research
industry, and vice versa:
In between my first anthropology degree and my Ph.D., I worked for several years
in this industry of market research and opinion polling. During this experience,
I was struck by how the idea of research is at the heart of what it means to be
a market researcher, and is often more important than the market part of
the appellation. Many market researchers I know often identify with academic
anthropologists in the sense that both are interested in research first. There are
dissenters of course, but it is well known that the best market researchers are
people who are simply dying to get onto the next piece of research and find
something out. (Drazin 2006: 912)
He found that experience as a market researcher helped him considerably when

he trained as an anthropologist, and went to conduct ethnographic research in
Romania: Hundreds of market research projects, chains of focus groups, and
training
involving tramping the streets of Essex towns knocking on doors with a clipboard
had equipped me fairly well for participant observation and data collection
(Drazin
2006: 912)
There are times when involvement in market research does create ethical
dilemmas
for anthropologists. It is widely accepted, for instance, that in focus groups and
surveys people very rarely report their behaviour honestly, and that more
accurate
information may be gleaned by simply observing what they actually do. However,
the ethical codes that guide anthropology strictly forbid practitioners to do
research
covertly, and this led Carrie McLaren to express concern about shopping spies:
market researchers who covertly spy on customers in shopping malls, fast-food
halls and so on, sometimes striking up conversations with them while pretending
to be fellow shoppers and sometimes videoing their behaviour. Apparently some
market researchers regard this study of what they call naked behaviour as
ethnography
or anthropological studies. McLaren (2002: 421) is highly critical of this
misrepresentation of anthropology, and of the approach itself: since focus groups
arent the real world, theyre working damn hard to make the real world a focus
group.
Still, there is no doubt that consumer behaviour is an important area of activity,
defining, in effect, how societies use and manage their resources. It could be
argued that in a public place, such as a shopping mall, security cameras and
store
staff are already recording and observing behaviour, and it is not practical to ask
everyones permission, or tell them that a research project is underway. However,
some techniques clearly go beyond the bounds of simple observation and stray
into
deception. So, once again, there are some interesting ethical issues to consider.
In general, market research is conducted openly, and represents a
straightforward
attempt to find out what people think, or what they want, and to produce and
advertise goods accordingly. Anthropology can bring greater depth to such data
collection, as well as the ability to consider diverse cultural responses.
With these demographic changes has come a growing awareness of and attention
to various ethnic groups by the media, the public at large, politicians and private
industry. In market research jargon, these groups are called market segments,
and efforts to reach them have become more refined. This is part of a longerterm
move from mass marketing to target marketing first toward young people
and women and now toward ethnic groups.
Equipped with this knowledge and trained in sociocultural anthropology, I
recently decided to open a research and consulting firm, which I call Surveys
Unlimited . . . a cultural research and consulting company applying anthropological
techniques and analysis to market research. As I met with potential
clients, I promoted ethnographic fieldwork as central to the services I offered
and advocated using the approach in research on targeted market segments.
(Waterston 1998: 106)
Waterston makes the point that, to really appreciate what people want, there is a
need to explore their views without preconceptions, and to observe them on
their
own home turf . As she says: exploring issues from the bottom up tunes us into
consumers conceptual systems (Waterston 1998). Like McLaren, she pays
attention
to ethical concerns in this instance questioning the idea of targeting people
(and
in particular less well-off minority groups) to induce them to buy consumer
goods.
But, as she points out, there are some erroneous preconceptions to be
considered in
this regard:
In my discussions with members of minority groups, many people express
resentment at being passed over by marketers. They view attention paid to
minority markets as empowering to members of those groups and as providing
new work and career opportunities for them . . . Clearly the phenomenon of
ethnic marketing reflects political processes of ethnic identity formation. It
should come as no surprise that exploitation and empowerment are two sides of
the coin. The anthropological advantage in market research also involves keeping
these issues in sight. (Waterston 1998: 109)
As well as dealing with the political and economic aspects of marketing,

anthropologists
have recently begun to consider the more subtle aspects of how people
respond to consumer goods. In Chapter 4 we considered the anthropology of the
senses in understanding how people interact with their environments. The kind
of
work can also inform the commercial sphere. For instance, Virginia Postrels
(2003)
research observes how people respond in aesthetic and sensory terms to objects
and
images, and Dan Hill has charted the rise of experiential products and services
and
the ways that they are marketed. His work focuses on consumers sensoryemotive
reactions to particular brands, and he suggests that considering peoples
sensory
reactions to them provides a much more truthful response than can be gleaned
from
either surveys or focus groups (Hill 2003).
Making use of the in-depth insider perspective provided by anthropology is
therefore useful at each stage in business and industry in designing
communications
about products, in observing peoples responses to these efforts, and in
assessing how
products are actually used. John Sherrys (1995) work deals with the latter issue.
His career began with research about Navajo activists, and involved looking at
how
they were using new technologies to interact with outsiders. He now applies that
experience in a different context:
Im an anthropologist for Intel Corporation, the company that makes microprocessors.
Most people think that sounds a little strange an anthropologist
working for a microprocessor manufacturer but its not as strange as you might
think . . . I feel very lucky to have a job like this. Sometimes anthropologists wind
up in jobs they never even dreamed of. That wasnt true in my case Id been
hoping that a technology company would be interested in getting a detailed
understanding of how people actually use their products . . . At Intel, in the Intel
Architecture Labs, I work with a small group of social scientists . . . Our collective
goal is to identify new uses for computing power by understanding the needs of
real people. We call it design ethnography. Its a great job, and the good news is,
there seems to be a growing market for applied cultural anthropologists in this
field. (Sherry, in Gwynne 2003a: 21415)
Following John Sherrys contribution to Intel, the company set up a Peoples and
Practices Group: a special team of ten anthropologists and psychologists, to
research
how people use computers and come up with better products: In the past,
marketing
teams might have been given the task of making a product cross-culturally
palatable.
Increasingly, however, culture is taken into account earlier, at the design stage:
for example, the embedded compass in mobile phones to allow Muslims to locate
the direction of Mecca (Anthropology Today, 2004: 29)
Other companies have followed suit:
Social scientists, and in particular anthropologists, are precious commodities.
Back in December 2002, IBM decided to set up a world class human sciences
group. One result is the appointment of Steve Barnett, an anthropologist by
training and generally recognized as a pioneering business anthropologist
(Economist Magazine, 11 March 2004). In 2003, IBM research claimed to be
adding linguists, anthropologists, ethnographers, and similarly non-technical
specialists to its staff in order to provide new insights into clients businesses (San
Francisco Chronicle, 21 October 2003).
DESIGNING ANTHROPOLOGY
Adding an anthropologist to a research team is like moving from black-andwhite

TV to color.
Cathleen Crain, LTG Associates
Anthropologists are increasingly being employed to assist in product design, with

this work sometimes leading to the creation of new products. Thus Sue Squires
conducted
ethnographic research into American breakfast behaviour (Squires and Byrne
2002). As ethnographic research does, this involved observing actual practices
instead
of merely asking people about what they had for breakfast. It quickly revealed a
wide
gap between parents desire to give kids an ideal and socially acceptable
healthy
breakfast and their lack of time for preparation. Squires was able to consider this
analytically, as part of a larger conflict between the pressure that women felt
about
Design anthropology is a term which is becoming increasingly common,
particularly in hi-tech firms. Think of a company in Silicon Valley and it is
likely that nowadays they employ perhaps one or two anthropologists . . . In
some instances a company has the resources to employ people exclusively as
ethnographers, rather than have product designers do ethnography themselves . . .
The exploration and interrogation of a context, or of broad themes and concepts,
seems to have an affinity with the anthropological project, although it is not an
academic one. (Drazin 2006: 99100)
Greg Guest observes that although many people still imagine that
anthropologists
invariably disappear off into remote areas:
being good mothers, and the economic pressures on them to work outside the
home.
The articulation of the need to reconcile these pressures led to the development
of
a new product called Go-Gurt: a yogurt-based snack that could be eaten on the
go.
The new breakfast food achieved US$37 million in sales in the first year.
EMBEDDING INNOVATION
Patricia Sachs
CEO, Social Solutions Inc., Arizona
I had a job the whole time I was in graduate school, as I needed to support my kids. I
found myself continually
making connections between my studies and my work settings. After a five-year
research project in developmental
and cognitive psychology, it became obvious to me that there was an abundance of
opportunities for
practical anthropology that could make a difference.
In a nutshell, I founded and am the CEO of an anthropology consulting firm. The area
I work in is innovation
we embed innovation in companies by connecting customer-centered insight with
work-centered intelligence.
We collaborate with organizations to help them develop new innovation practices. We
describe ourselves as a
business anthropology firm that, like a corporate Margaret Mead, has the capacity to
understand the world
beyond the organizational chart.
I have always maintained that our work is meaningful and useful if it is tied to
strategic initiatives for our
clients, so that the perspective it offers expands, shapes, and influences how they go
about their business. For
example: we led the redesign of a leading R&D organization, which took it from a
strict engineering culture
(meaning a techno-centric, cubicle-centric way of making things) to a contextually
embedded understanding of
what people really do in their real lives. In other words, we apprenticed engineers in
Anthro 101, as it were,
teaching them how to see the people for whom they were inventing things, and how
to develop insight for
innovation from that understanding.
Many anthropologists work closer to home. Twenty-first century anthropology
encompasses an exceptionally broad range of topics and research settings.
Anthropologists are applying the theories and research methods honed in the
Australian outback or the Kalahari desert to modern settings, lending new and
innovative insights and creating novel solutions. (Guest 2003: 259)
He sees the skills he learned in training as an anthropologist as directly

transferable
to other fields. What anthropologists do in the technology industry is
really not that different from what we do in more traditional engagements (Guest
2003: 259). In his work as an Experience Modeler at a consulting group called
Sapient Corporation, he draws on earlier research that he did with shrimp fishers
in
Ecuador, making a direct comparison between understanding the fishers
relations
with top-down regulations and peoples difficulties in dealing with
incomprehensible
technology systems. His task in the technology industry is to help create good
technological solutions, and he approaches this on the basis that the design of
userfriendly
systems requires companies to understand the beliefs and behaviours of
their consumers.
What do anthropologists do in the technology industry? In brief, we use
ethnography to better understand users and inform design. Our tradition of
in situ participant-observation and our holistic perspective can be used to gain
a deeper understanding of the complex interaction between individuals, sociocultural
factors, activities and design. Ethnography has an advantage over other
forms of research surveys and focus groups, to name two common examples
because it can reveal user needs in the context of the activity a given design is
intended to support. (Guest 2003: 259)
Such work is also more broadly useful to firms who design things for people.
Thus Heath Combs has been charting the work of ethnographers paid by
furniture
companies to study people at home, and consider how they actually use their
furniture and their living spaces. In the furniture industry, their findings will drive
anything from retail store and product design to brand management . . .
Ethnography
focuses on closely studying a relatively small number of people to get a detailed
understanding of consumer needs (Combs 2006: 1).
Adam Drazin makes the point that commercial clients are not seeking
anthropology
per se they are seeking answers to questions and solutions to problems: In
most cases, a commercial client does not buy anthropology. They buy research in
order to address problems. Much commercial research begins with a problem.
This
is true of all kinds of clients not only companies and manufacturers, but
charities,
public bodies and policymakers. Clients go first to research companies in order to
solve these (Drazin 2006: 94).
This view also highlights the reality that anthropology itself and scientific
research more generally can also be seen as a product: a service that trained
researchers
provide. It is certainly framed in this way in business and industry,
reflecting the economic focus that pertains in this sphere. There is thus a wide
range of ways that anthropologists can approach commercial activities: as
analysts
of globalization, and as critics of its social and environmental effects; as cultural
translators; and as experts who can offer commercially useful insights into
human
behaviour. The opportunities for anthropologists to find employment in business
and industry are constantly expanding, as are the potential areas in which they
can
act as consultants.
7 ANTHROPOLOGY AND
HEALTH
HEALTH IN A CULTURAL CONTEXT
Nothing is more fundamental to human life than health; there are major cultural
variations in how people think and act on health issues, and all aspects of health
from the cradle to the grave have an important social dimension. This is, in
consequence, one of the major areas in which anthropology is applied.
Anthropological interests in health span both time and space: they focus on
temporal change with studies of evolutionary biology; ideas about human genetic
development; and analyses of the effects of historical changes on health and well
being. For example, Chapter 4 noted some of the health issues that arise when
people shift from nomadic patterns of movement to settlement (Green and Iseley
2002). Boyd Eaton and Melvin Konners (2003) work looks back even further, to
consider the mismatch between the diet and lifestyle of prehistoric humans
(adapted
genetically over millennia), and modern diets and lifestyles, which are the result
of
very recent and rapid changes. We need to understand ancestral lifestyles, they
say,
to see why modern humans suffer from chronic illnesses:
We have been investigating the proposition that the major chronic illnesses
which afflict human beings living in affluent industrialized Western nations
a n t h r o p o l o g y a n d h e a l t h 117
are promoted by a mismatch between our genetic constitution and a variety of

lifestyle factors . . . diet, exercise patterns, and exposure to abusive substances . . .
The genetic constitution of humanity, which controls our physiology,
biochemistry and metabolism, has not been altered in any fundamental way
since Homo sapiens sapiens first became widespread. In contrast, cultural
evolution during the relatively brief period since the appearance of agriculture
has been breathtakingly rapid, so that genes selected over the preceding geologic
eras must now function in a foreign and, in many ways, hostile Atomic Age.
(Eaton and Konner 2003: 52)
Other lessons can be learned from the past, too. Payson Sheets notes that
archaeologists
have found prehistoric crops, agricultural technologies and even medical
remedies that can help to cure illnesses. For example, an archaeological analysis
of
ancient Mayan stone tools in El Salvador revealed that obsidian knives were 100
500
times sharper than the modern surgical razor blades and scalpels, creating
cleaner
incisions and causing less tissue damage. Archaeological knowledge about
ancient
Mayan production skills has therefore been drawn upon to make obsidian blades
for
delicate eye surgery (Sheets 2003: 108).
The application of anthropology in health is also spatial, with specialized research
areas such as epidemiology, which considers how diseases spread through
populations,
and more generally, with the cross-cultural comparisons that are central to the
discipline. There is much useful knowledge about health and medicine that can
be
shared cross-culturally. Although health care in the twenty-first century is heavily
dominated by Western sciences, there are many other cultural models about
what
constitutes good health and how this can be achieved and maintained.
Anthropology
is therefore useful in translating and communicating different ideas about health
between cultural groups, in a variety of contexts. For instance, Andrea Kielich and
Leslie Miller work in the area of immigrant health care in America (where 800,000
immigrants arrive each year), and note the importance of understanding
diversity in
ideas about sickness and health. America absorbs over 800 thousand immigrants
each
year: Each group of new immigrants brings a unique set of cultural beliefs about
sickness and health, a vocabulary of medical terms, and, often, a medicine
cabinetful
of folk remedies, challenging American physicians to use skills not typically
taught
in medical school (Kielich and Miller 1998: 32).
In the course of their work they run into Asian ideas about health as an
equilibrium
between yin and yang; African and Native American ideas about wellbeing
as a form of harmony with nature; and, among immigrants from Spanishspeaking
countries, ideas about good health as a correct balance of hot and cold. And,
returning to the point that Eaton and Konner made about contemporary modern
lifestyles, they also find that contrary to popular belief, most immigrants arrive
here
in better health than their US-born counterparts but their health deteriorates in
direct proportion to their length of stay (Kielich and Miller 1998: 38).
FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE

Anthropologists are involved in studying health at every stage of human life,
even before it begins. A fast-growing area of research is concerned with human
reproduction, in particular where this is technologically assisted, for example by

in vitro fertilization. This practice raises a number of complex social issues, as do
reproductive controls, such as contraception and abortion. In such areas,
sensitivity
to diverse cultural beliefs and values is very helpful one might say vital. For
example,
Catherine Chiapetta-Swanson conducts research with nurses in clinics
specializing
in genetic termination (an abortion that is carried out when genetic abnormalities
are found in a foetus). As she points out: GT nursing is intense. It is one-to-one
care
across a range of extremely sensitive procedures, which are emotionally and
morally
charged for both patient and nurse (Chiapetta-Swanson 2005: 166). Her
research
helped hospitals to improve their structuring and management of the process,
and to assist the people involved with more effective coping strategies. Human
reproduction raises other complex issues too, particularly when it is assisted,
thus
Charis Thompsons work in fertility clinics in California examines some of the
tricky
questions raised about kinship and chains of descent when egg or sperm
donation
or surrogacy creates third party reproducers (Thompson 2006a: 271).
Cultural differences are also the focus of Brigitte Jordans studies of women and
birthing practices. Her work with four different groups showed how these
practices
depend on a range of cultural ideas about life and death, gender, power and
authority,
and religion:
Jordans work opened up a whole area of research in applied medical anthropology
and, equally importantly, provided women, their families, and their
medical assistants with knowledge of alternative ways to situate the birth . . .

For many women, this research transformed the birth experience into a positive
and emotionally significant moment in their lives. (Jordan, in Whiteford and
Bennett 2005: 126)
As noted in Chapter 2, cultural variations are equally evident in approaches to

child rearing, and this is also an area in which the long view is informative.
Some
researchers look not only at the prehistoric, but also at the pre-human. For
example,
Sarah Hardy (2003) works with primates in considering some of the
fundamentals
of human behaviour in child rearing. She suggests that the stereotypical
Flintstones
view of early humans, in which men are presented as the hunters and women
as the
nurturers, is wrong, and that the evolutionary record actually points to biological
and cultural mechanisms that engender cooperation in child rearing. She also
looks
at contemporary human cultures where this model pertains, and extended family
members both female and male have a major role in raising children. Her
research emphasizes the importance of social cooperation in child rearing, both

for
individuals and for society as a whole.
BUILDING BODIES OF KNOWLEDGE

Patricia Hammer
Center for Social Well Being, Peru
I first encountered anthropology by chance. I had enrolled in a body-building class at

the local community
college, with the idea of getting into shape to apply for a job as a firefighter. While
waiting to sign up for
the course, I began to peruse the teaching schedule, and was attracted by an offering
entitled Chinese culture.
Although I had very little idea what anthropology was, I decided to take the class. The
professor was Chinese
born and, faced with rural conflict, had fled to Hong Kong as a refugee. Eventually the
family immigrated to
California where she studied anthropology.
In this initial exposure, I was amazed at the breadth of the discipline. With an interest
in music I focused
my class paper on the history and styles of traditional Chinese music. My classmates
selected themes that
included Chinese cultural systems of healing, early education, calligraphy, fishing and
dinghy construction. Our
professor insisted that gaining a sensory understanding of a culture required that
you eat it, therefore, after
our final exam, we all went out for a Chinese meal, with the professor guiding us
through the dishes as well as
explaining Chinese dining symbolism and etiquette. The course was a fulfilling
introduction to anthropology.
Extinguishing my firefighter ambitions and applying myself to undergraduate study, I
resumed an earlier
interest in Spanish. I became aware of opportunities for study-abroad programmes
that would combine my
ambitions to acquire language skills and to experience a different culture and society.
In my third year in
college I left the North American continent for the first time to attend university in
Lima, Peru. Here, I expressed
to my professor my enthusiasm to get my feet wet. Within a month I was in contact
with linguists in the
Andes, and lost no time in travelling to the region. I was warmly received by the
researchers, who invited me
to accompany them to the rural agricultural villages where they worked.
Although my anthropology and Spanish classes were held at the university in Lima, I
took advantage of
long weekends and school breaks to spend time in a particular Quechua-speaking
rural village. I observed
and participated in daily activities, while taking extensive notes. I was thrilled to be
able to explore the social
interactions and cultural practices of a small Andean farming village, so different
from my own US-urban
orientations.
The inductive nature of experiential learning came to the fore in this initial exposure
to fieldwork. Because
I had been introduced to the community by established linguists, people associated

me with language learning.
When asked why I had come to their village, I commonly replied that I wanted to
learn the language, thinking
of my tedious word lists, reference dictionary and grammar texts. However, often I
was met with the unexpected
response: Ah, thats easy! All you have to do is drink the water, breathe the air, eat
the food and soon youll
be speaking Quechua just like us! This revealed a kind of participatory acquisitive
notion of learning culture.
Beyond ingesting communal substances, locals also convinced me that by wearing
traditional dress and joining
in with daily and ritual activities that I would (in a way) become one of them.
As a female undergraduate, with little guidance about fieldwork, I took my cues from
the community members
who instructed me on what to do, what to wear, what to say, with whom to speak (or
not), etc., and all the
other details vital for young unmarried women in rural villages. Its not surprising
that, although I went into
the field with no specific research topic, I returned with a keen interest in Andean
gender relations.
Having completed a BA, I was convinced that I wanted to pursue a career in
anthropology, but was left
pondering what that would entail. I was still intrigued by the Andes region: if I asked
the people in the
community what I should study, what would they say? Something that would be of
practical use to them, I
thought.
My studies in Peru had improved my Spanish, so while trying to figure out what to
study in graduate
school, I took a job as a medical interpreter in a prenatal clinic. This awakened an
interest in cross-cultural
perspectives on womens reproductive experiences. I wasnt only called upon for
literal interpretation, but found
myself having to explain Latin American customs, beliefs and practices to the clinic
personnel. For example,
women patients felt it a priority to tell nurses about significant emotional upsets they
had suffered (such as
bad news from their home country), in the belief that sudden strong feelings have ill
effects on the developing
baby. During that time I also worked as a translator for a lay midwife who attended
home births. I began to
search for studies on cross-cultural midwifery, and discovered medical anthropology.
Finally, I sensed the potential for a career with practical applications for
understanding, and perhaps
improving, maternal health. I could have trained as a nurse-midwife to pursue a
similar goal. However, I chose
anthropology because of its appreciation for different kinds of knowledge. I did my
graduate research in Peru
and Bolivia exploring Quechua-speaking womens concepts and practices to manage
menstruation, pregnancy,
birth and post-partum health. Fundamental to this was a focus on cultural
conceptions of the workings of
the body, known as ethnophysiology. This would later underpin participatory
research in international health
projects, to improve communication between health workers and community

members.
Learning from other cultural groups allows us to question the practices that
our own culture regards as normal. Elizabeth Whitaker observes that, culture
determines the way we have children and how we raise children . . . Rarely do we
question our cultural traditions, especially when there are experts and expert
opinions
(Whitaker 2003: 38). Using evolutionary, biological and cultural perspectives, her
work examines breastfeeding practices across cultures, and suggests that
American
approaches fail to acknowledge that mothers and infants form a biological pair
not
just during pregnancy, but also in the childs infancy:
Mothers and infants are physiologically interconnected from conception to
the termination of breastfeeding. While this mutual biological relationship is
obvious during pregnancy, to many people it is less clear in the period following
birth. In Western society, individuals are expected to be autonomous and
independent, and this idea extends to mothers and their babies. Individual
autonomy is a core value in our economy, society, and family life: even to our
understanding of health and disease. However, it is not a widely shared notion,
as more sociocentric conceptions of personhood are very common in other
cultures. (Whitaker 2003)
During my graduate study I also looked at the work of other social science
professionals, with an eye to
developing a career outside academia. I was pleasantly surprised to find that when I
inquired about projects
with international non-profit organizations, as well as with state institutions, they
were enthusiastic about my
research, often inviting me to speak at workshops. I began sending my CV to
international health organizations.
Early one morning I received a call from a womens reproductive health project
coordinator in Lima. We spoke
at length about effective participatory research, and soon I was flying off to Peru to
start my first job as an
international health consultant.
Since 1996, I have worked as an applied medical anthropologist with ministries of
health and education,
and NGO projects, primarily in Peru and Bolivia. I am also the director of a rural
institute dedicated to the
promotion of indigenous healing knowledge and practices in the north-central
Peruvian Andes.
Many transitions in life have cultural importance, and there is a wealth of

ethnographic research considering the diverse ideas and rituals that surround
shifts
into puberty, adulthood, marriage, birth, mature status, professional
advancement,
retirement, and of course death. Each society handles these life stages
differently,
but all mark important transitional points, often with elaborate ceremonies that
reveal core cultural ideas and values. These influence how groups manage not
only
childbirth and parenting, but also later stages, for example the care of the
elderly.
With the baby boomers born in the 1940s reaching retirement age, greater
attention
is being given to the issues surrounding geriatric care. Anthropologists have been
closely involved in work examining how old age is imagined and experienced in
different groups; how people think about ageing; what kinds of activities they
undertake in old age; and how different generations interact.
There is also considerable ethnographic research on institutions for the shortand
long-term care of the elderly, such as nursing homes and hospitals. Robert
Harman
(2005: 312) comments that nursing home treatment is frequently unsatisfactory
and sometimes inhumane, and he notes that a number of anthropologists have
acted
as advocates for the inhabitants of such institutions, or worked to influence
policy.
They have also contributed to the education of carers in institutions and at home,
producing guidance videos and manuals, and organising seminars and workshops
for them.
LONG-TERM CARE
Sherylyn Briller
Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Institute of Gerontology,

Wayne State University
I come from a family of urban teachers. My father taught for thirty years in the New
York City public school
system. While he truly made a difference in his students lives, this job was very
demanding. He often came
home bone-weary and said, You can pick any profession you like, just dont be a
teacher. Its too exhausting.
Today, despite my fathers warning, I teach anthropology at Wayne State, a large
urban university in Detroit.
However, I really love the job, especially teaching applied anthropology and
preparing students for their future
professional roles. On the first day of each course, I always tell students my story.
As a twenty-one-year-old undergraduate anthropology major, I did not know what I
wanted to do after I
finished college, but I thought that I might work in a field related to aging. In my
family there were many
elders, including grandparents and great aunts and uncles. Some were childless and
my nuclear family served as
the children and grandchildren in their lives. I relished spending time with them
and hearing their stories.
This strong interest in working with elders and oral history pushed me in the direction
of gerontology, and
my first job after college was working in a nursing home as an Activities Assistant.
This was very anthropological,
as you were charged with learning about people and their interests, and trying to
incorporate what you found
into making their institutional lives more palatable. I would like to say that I was hired
because of my kind
personality and rapport with elders, but the reality was that my boss thought that a
college graduate might
keep up with the enormous amount of paperwork that the job required. This job also
introduced me to working
on special care units and the culture of dementia care.
After nearly two years, I went to work as the program coordinator for a large
community senior centre
in an economically depressed neighbourhood in Minneapolis. This involved running
an activity programme that
encouraged elders to come to the centre, where they ate hot lunch, socialized, and
were linked to supportive
services. Technically, I was supposed to have a Masters of Social Work (MSW) for this
job. When I began working
in the senior centre, I planned to go back to graduate school and get this degree.
However, I shared an office
with the programmes social worker and got to see her job first-hand. In my opinion,
there were strong pros
and cons to it. On the positive side, she got to work with elders 1:1 every day. On the
negative side, she
spent much time telling seniors about their eligibility for services. Frequently, the
regulations were problematic,
and the process was frustrating for all. Watching these experiences kindled my
interest in research and policy.
I was advised that to work in a policy-related area, I needed to go to graduate school
and get an advanced
degree. No one said that this had to be in a specific field, so I chose to stick with
anthropology.
I entered the graduate program at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland,
where several faculties
specialized in medical anthropology and the anthropology of ageing. My dissertation
research focused on
familial and governmental old-age support mechanisms in Mongolia. I consider
myself very lucky to have had
this traditional long-term ethnographic fieldwork experience in Asia as part of my
graduate education. While in
graduate school, I also worked on an interdisciplinary research team focused on
improving United States longterm
care environments. We did research, staff education and consulting for numerous
facilities, and published
a book series about creating successful dementia care settings (Briller et al. 2002).
While finishing my dissertation, I was offered a one-year replacement position as an
anthropology lecturer
at Wayne State University, then the next year I was offered a tenure-track job as an
assistant professor. My
current research focuses mainly on ageing and end-of-life issues in the United States,
and I am interested in
using anthropology to address ageing and health-related issues in a range of groups.
My job also involves
training other anthropologists to work effectively in a broad range of community
settings.
I tell this story to my classes partly to reassure them that it is OK to study
anthropology because you are
interested in the subject, even if you do not know precisely how you will use the
knowledge in the future. It
also illustrates how the path into a field like medical anthropology is very often not
linear. With a degree in
anthropology and the set of usable skills that this provides, it is possible to remain
consistently employed with

a degree in anthropology in academic and non-academic settings. I also use the story
to highlight a number
of important characteristics involved in working as an anthropologist in diverse
settings namely, broad research
interests, flexibility, creativity and being willing to work under a series of different job
titles. I then encourage
students to go on and create their own stories, in which they put their
anthropological education to use.
It is also useful to understand social beliefs and values in relation to the diseases
that often accompany (and sometimes precede) ageing. Ideas about cancer,
disability,
and dementia are critical in defining how these are treated or managed at a
social
level, and an awareness of under-the-surface beliefs can often help in
developing
new ways to cope with health problems in these areas. Thus Jeannine Coreils
(2004)
work looks at different cultural models of illness, and how these affect recovery in
breast cancer support groups.
Because of the disciplines cross-cultural utility, anthropologists are often
employed
to assist in the health care of elderly refugees and immigrants. Robert Harman
notes
research in several related areas: Elzbieta Gozdziak working on problems specific
to
older refugees and programmes designed to support them; Neil Hendersons
development
of ethnically specific Alzheimers support groups for Hispanic and African
Americans; and Kay Branchs work as an Elder Rural Services Planner for a Native
Tribal Health Consortium in Alaska (Harman 2005).
As noted in earlier chapters, anthropologists also work with aid agencies, many
of which focus on bringing medical aid to parts of the world (and diverse cultural
contexts) where health care systems are failing. More often than not, a lack of
resources
for health care is coupled with difficulties in the provision of sufficient food
and clean water.
FOOD AND LIFESTYLE

The anthropology of food has long been a major area of research. Ethnographers
have
focused on the social and cultural diversities with which human societies
approach
this central aspect of life, looking at the history of food; how food is produced,
cooked and shared; what foods mean in different societies; how food is used in
rituals; how food contributes to the construction of social identity and status; the
use of food for medicinal purposes; and of course the various health issues
relating to
food security, nutrition and diet.
AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL JOURNEY
Nancy Pollock
Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand
My anthropological journey began in the Caribbean, but led me to establish my
research in the Pacific, where I
have been fortunate to benefit from the hospitality and tolerance of many host
families who put up with my
seemingly inane questions, fed me a range of foods, and shared times of shortage
and times of relative plenty.
Many flights and boat trips have taken me through the skies and waters of the Pacific
to islands that are
each beautiful in their own way. The environment of each atoll and island provides a
setting that challenges
an outsiders understanding and necessitates local explanation. My fieldwork has
followed two overlapping
research interests, food habits as they affect health, and development. These two
areas of research have led
me to exchange information with many non-social scientists, particularly nutritionists,
epidemiologists, lawyers
and health physicists.
Food consumption was not a popular or accepted area of anthropological research
when I wrote my Ph.D.
dissertation in 1969, but it has come to the fore in the last 20 years. For me,
collecting dietary data in an
atoll community in the Marshall Islands provided a platform for subsequent field
research and yielded a rich
source of ethnographic data about social life on an atoll still under US jurisdiction.
The data also presented
interesting contrasts with later research on food habits in other Pacific island
communities.
In the 1990s, a Wallisian colleague and I conducted research on Wallis and Futuna for
the South Pacific
Commission (as it was then) and the New Zealand Medical Council. One project
focussed on understanding
obesity from a local perspective, where body size (BMI) is considered large by
Western medical standards. One
informant told us she would feel weak if she lost any of her 96 kg, and this comfort
size was an important
consideration for her health. Contributors also asserted the strong focus on food as a
social pathway to integrate
communities. The islands of Wallis and Futuna are still heavily reliant on local root
crops and fish they provide
for their families, and so represent an economy that is pre-commercial.
A second project undertaken at the suggestion of French Medical officials looked at
the drinking habits of
young Wallisian men, some of whom had injured themselves and others when driving
cars. The close restrictions
on social life and lack of alternative entertainment were revealed as major reasons
for binge parties in the
bush, together with ready access to alcohol at any corner store.
These two projects, and a subsequent one in Fiji, became training exercises in
anthropological fieldwork with
local researchers. In Fiji we collected data on food consumption and then, working
with Samoan and Maori
students from Victoria University, we demonstrated ethnic differences in food
selection, timing of eating and

feasts. This led to a project in Wellington sponsored by the Ministry of Social
Development, focussed on the
criteria participants used to select foods at the supermarket when they had $100 a
week (or less) to spend
on food. From this I went on to investigate the social issues around use of food banks
in New Zealand, and
this work became part of a series of studies assessing poverty in New Zealand
society.
Working on food consumption in Pacific communities also drew me into two major
projects focussed on the
aftermath of nuclear testing in the Marshall Islands, where the US exploded Bravo
and other nuclear devices
in the 1950s. The Nuclear Claims Tribunal was established in 1987 to assess claims
for damage to Marshallese
people and to the environment resulting from fallout from these tests. The tribunal
held compensation hearings
between 2001 and 2003, to hear evidence from each of the four atoll communities
affected. Food contamination
is the major source of health problems being treated today, particularly the large
number of goitre cancers
experienced by Marshallese islanders. Research by nuclear physicists,
agriculturalists, epidemiologists and others
assessed the amount of ingested radiation some fifty years after the people were
exposed, in order to calculate
compensation levels in dollar amounts. My earlier food research in the area provided
ethnographic background
to food use and lifestyle, and thus provided an indication of the circumstances in
which people were likely to
have been exposed to radiation. I presented material at each of the four Tribunal
hearings, using historical,
environmental and sociological evidence particular to each atolls case.
Compensation claims have now been
awarded to each of the atoll communities, although at the time of writing the US has
yet to complete the
payments.
On another Pacific island, Nauru, people also sought compensation, but in this case it
was for the effects
of the phosphate mining carried out since 1906. In 1919 the British Phosphate
Commission (consisting of
government nominees by Australia, New Zealand and Great Britain) took over
management of the mine from
Germany, selling the phosphate mainly to Australian and New Zealand farmers to
enhance sheep and cattle
production. As mining has rendered the interior (four-fifths) of the island unusable,
after independence in 1968
Nauruan landowners sought compensation from the former Commissioners for the
very low payouts they had
received since mining began. Their case was heard before the International Court of
Justice who awarded Nauru
financial compensation to be paid by Australia, New Zealand and Britain, together
with advice on rehabilitation.
A Commission of Enquiry was charged with documenting means of rehabilitating the
island, and this commission
asked me to provide background documentation to the land claims. I was the only
social scientist (and only
woman) on an eighteen-member team, and I performed the role of liaison person
between this team and the
Nauruan people. My Nauruan counterpart and I convened meetings around the
island, interviewing people about
their ideas of Nauru in the future, and making a video of the issues.
More recently my interest in food habits and health has resulted in a series of
research projects addressing
food security and poverty issues, often in multi-disciplinary projects. Collaborating
with colleagues across a wide
spectrum of disciplines encourages us all to think laterally. Nutritional colleagues now
include social issues such
as meal structures and local food values in their bio-medical approach to nutrition
education, and understand
the importance of social data, for example in calculating food intake, or in
approaches to obesity.
Anthropologists can and do bridge many disciplinary boundaries. In doing so they try
to use language that
overcomes the jargon of specialist communication. I see a very important future for
students of anthropology to
draw on their training to bridge the statistical/qualitative gulf; to interweave the
subjective with the objective,
and to offer new lines of thought.
Cultural beliefs and practices around food are critical in defining what people
eat. David Himmelgreen and Deborah Crooks point out that many
anthropological
studies of food have practical applications in dealing with nutrition-related
problems:
for example, a study examining the high consumption of Coca-Cola in the
Yucatan revealed a belief that it is healthy, and the importance of local
perceptions of
it as a Western (and therefore high-status) item. As they say: anthropological
studies
on the marketing of fast-food chains like McDonalds are especially relevant
today
(Himmelgreen and Crooks 2005: 155). In more general terms:
Applied nutritional anthropology has the potential to make significant contributions
in addressing the nutritional problems of the twenty-first century.
These problems include the global obesity epidemic, the intersection of diet
and physical activity in the development of obesity related diseases (e.g. type
2 diabetes), the continuing problems with undernutrition and micronutrient
deficiencies, the ongoing problem of food insecurity in a food-rich world . . .
[And] the contribution of globalization on food consumption patterns.
(Himmelgreen and Crooks 2005: 1789)
Anthropologists often find themselves working in regions where food security is

major issue: for example, David Pelletiers (2000, 2005) research in Latin
America,
Vietnam and Bangladesh is concerned with how malnutrition affects levels of
child mortality, with a view to improving policies in this area. Ann Fleuret (1988)
researched food aid and its implications for development in Kenya and became
involved in the American Anthropology Associations Task Force on Famine. In
research on health there are often intersections with other issues: for example,
Mike
Mtikas (2001) work illustrates how, in poor countries, the AIDS epidemic has had
major implications for household food security.
Researchers also work in areas where the over-consumption of poor quality
food along with sedentary lifestyles creates obesity. Nurgl Fitzgerald, David
Himmelgreen and their colleagues (Fitzgerald et al. 2006) became involved in
developing educational programmes to promote better dietary habits through
nutrition
in impoverished American communities; Barry Popkin (2001) has been
tracing dietary changes and a shift towards higher levels of obesity in the
developing
world; and Hannah Bradbys (1997) ethnographic study on the dietary choices
of Punjabi women in Glasgow highlighted the social issues that contribute to a
relationship between health, eating and heart disease.
There is also a growing anthropological literature on health foods, their meanings
and what they reveal about the concepts that people use in thinking about
their health. Thus Rosalind Cowards work on health foods also points to growing
concerns about the inclusion of undesirable substances in modern food
production:
The pursuit of a healthy diet is the principal site where we can exercise conscious
control over our health. Diet is the privileged arena where the sense of personal
responsibility for our health can be worked out. No wonder there has been
such panic as the facts about adulteration of food at source have become widely
known . . . In the mythology of alternative health, food and health have become
inextricably linked as if it would be impossible to be healthy without serious
attention to our diet . . . Food and its relation to health has totally replaced sex as
the major source of public anxiety about the body. (Coward 2001: 501)
This work resonates with my own research on drinking water, examining why
many people are willing to pay vastly more for bottled spring water rather than
drink tap water that they fear may have been chemically polluted in the course
of its
treatment, and during its journey through an industrial farming landscape (Strang
2004).
Anthropologists can therefore provide insights into many aspects of food use
and into wider behavioural issues, such as the way that people think about
physical
exercise, and the extent to which this is encouraged (or not) in their economic
and
social practices. And as mentioned in Chapter 5, in relation to social marketing,
anthropologists are well situated to work in areas such as health education,
where the
major aim is to understand cultural beliefs and values with a view to encouraging
behavioural change. Some culturally embedded ideas encourage people to adopt
habits that are harmful, and the only way to combat such problems is to
understand
the underlying factors. Thus Florence Kellners research (2005) seeks an in-depth
understanding of how the processes of self-construction and self-presentation
that
are part of coming of age in most Western societies actually encourage many
young
women to take up smoking.
PIECING STORIES TOGETHER
Rachael Gooberman-Hill
Department of Social Medicine, University of Bristol
I work as an anthropologist researching health, illness and healthcare. I look at what
good and bad health
is, and I describe how doctors and other health care providers look after people. My
work aims to improve
the health care that people in developed countries receive, because although there
are plenty of excellent
treatments out there, people who need them dont always get them. I run projects
that involve talking to
people about their health and their experience of health care. My colleagues and I do
this through one-to-one
interviews, group interviews (focus groups) and observations. The topics have ranged
from long-term illness and
joint surgery to how people living with cancer feel about taking morphine for pain.
Its a real privilege to be entrusted with peoples own stories about things that are
often very private and
personal. But my work is about more than just listening; its about piecing many
peoples stories together to
make bigger stories that policy makers, doctors and other researchers might listen to.
To present those bigger
UNDERSTANDING DISEASE
Behavioural change is also, quite literally, a matter of life and death in responses
to
infectious diseases, and in this area, as in others, local understandings are
critical.
The comparative nature of anthropological research underlines the reality that
there are many specifically cultural ways of handling epidemics, some of which
may be better suited to a particular context than imposed western models. Curtis
Abraham (2007) describes how Barry Hewletts work illustrates this point.
Hewlett
examined some of the problems that arose following an outbreak of the Ebola
virus
in central West Africa in 1995 and 1996. Medical aid was sent, but there was little
communication or coordination with the local community, and people became so
suspicious of outsiders that when they returned with the second outbreak, there
was
armed resistance to their activities. The research showed how the problem lay in
the
aid agencies lack of understanding of local history, how diseases were perceived
and
also how they were managed. They were also misled by stereotypes about
African
medicine. Western public health officials ignored the fact that indigenous people
have their own strategies for disease control and prevention (Abraham 2007:
35).
Partly as a result of this work, the World Health Organisation (WHO) revised its
guidelines for responding to Ebola outbreaks.
Curtis Abraham also points to Ted Greens work, which further affirms the need
for treating local understandings with respect. Green has spent several decades
working
in sub-Saharan Africa, and is familiar with indigenous contagion theories. He

notes that people are well aware of the causes of disease, and how contagion
spreads,
and have specific protocols for quarantine. Programmes that cohere with local
methods and actively support and make use of them are far more likely to work.
WHO has also taken this advice on board, and is now directing its efforts towards
stories I write articles for medical journals, in which I usually describe what it is like
to live and cope with
particular health problems. For instance Ive published an article explaining why
people do or do not like
to use walking sticks, and another one about what its like to live with the pain of
arthritis. Its often very
moving to spend time listening to people, but its also exciting to be able to present
their stories, and I enjoy
the time I spend writing up my research.
An equally important part of my job involves working alongside people from different
professions: for
example doctors, psychologists and statisticians. Even though were sometimes in
different countries, we work
together to think about areas that need research, and we design new projects
accordingly. Our aim is to shed
light on issues that have both local and international importance. For me, every day
is different, and having
the research skills of an anthropologist opens doors all the time.
working with and incorporating indigenous medical practices into aid
programmes
(in Abraham 2007).
Understanding local perspectives is particularly critical in dealing with issues
such
as the AIDS epidemic, which has been so devastating in Africa. Adam Ashforths
work looks at how the spread of this disease is entangled with ideas about
witchcraft,
which has been seen, traditionally, as a central factor in illness. Cases of
premature
death or untimely illness in Africa are almost always attributed to the action of
invisible forces, frequently those described as witchcraft. Thus the HIV/AIDS
epidemic is also an epidemic of witchcraft (Ashforth 2004: 147). Because of the
distrust this engenders, the disease therefore poses a threat not only to human
health,
but also to the stability of democratic governance in the region:
The implications of a witchcraft epidemic are quite different from those of a
public health crisis . . . when suspicions of witchcraft are at play in a community,
problems of illness and death transform matters of public health from questions
of appropriate policies into questions concerning the fundamental character and
legitimacy of public power in general questions relating to the security, safety
and integrity of the community. (Ashforth 2004: 142)
DRUG CULTURES AND CRIME
Understanding local cultural perspectives is vital in considering how best to

combat
AIDS, wherever this disease occurs. Merrill Singer, Ray Irizarry and Jean Schensul
(2002) conducted research into AIDS prevention in America, looking at needle
sharing among drug users. Their central question was whether this group would
use
free needles if these were made available, and whether this would be an
effective way
of slowing the spread of HIV/AIDS. However, they also had to consider anxieties
in local communities that handing out needles might increase intravenal drug
use,
and the political realities that surround policy making: Needle exchange is one of
a number of controversial strategies that have appeared in recent years
(widespread
street distribution of condoms and bleach for needle cleaning are others) in an
effort to halt the spread of AIDS to the drug-using sector of the population
(Singer,
Irizarry and Schensul 2002: 208).
Their research showed that concerns about needle exchanges increasing drug
use
were unfounded, and that the scheme had some potential as an effective
measure
against the spread of infection.
As these examples imply, anthropologists tend to ask why people do what they
do,
rather than merely condemning what many people regard as antisocial
behaviour.
Like other social scientists, they think that getting under the surface to see the
cause of problems is more likely to lead to effective solutions. Researchers bring
THE QUALITY OF PUBLIC HEALTH

Richard Chenhall
Menzies School of Health Research, Charles Darwin University,
Northern Territory,
Australia
I become involved in the evaluation of residential treatment centres, through my
Ph.D. studies. After completing
an undergraduate and postgraduate degree in anthropology, my first proper job
entailed teaching and doing
research in a public health research institute. As the only social scientist working in
this centre, I was bewildered
by the language spoken by public health researchers, who were mostly
epidemiologists. I did not know anything
about the bacterium Burkholderia pseudomallei; I was not too sure what a chronic
disease actually was and
I knew that public health was something that dealt with the health of populations and
mainly used statistics.
Everyone talked about some doctor who, in the 1840s, halted a cholera epidemic by
sealing a particular water
pump in London. So I stumbled my way through various lectures and discussions with
medical doctors, and
often felt pretty silly as I rarely understood what they were talking about.
I found that public health researchers were quite interested in the kind of information
they thought an
anthropologist would be able to provide, but in a research context dominated by
epidemiology (which relies
mainly on statistical data), qualitative methods such as participant observation were
unfamiliar. Complex social

analysis does not fit easily into public health models designed to provide very specific
interventions. Anthropological
research seeks to expand understandings of health issues by going beyond clinical
knowledge and
statistical comparisons, to examine a range of social and cultural influences in
peoples lives: those aspects of
illness and treatment which cannot be reduced to variables and measured. However,
in understanding population
health we need to tackle the more complex aspects of human behaviour and the
social systems within which
we are enmeshed.
Things have moved on since I first began working in this area, and qualitative
research and anthropological
methodologies have become increasingly popular in the health sciences. I now teach
in a public health
postgraduate degree programme, and the majority of students go on to work as
project managers or research
assistants in health-related projects, or find employment in government departments.
Many make use of the
methodological tools of anthropology, finding their training in qualitative research
methods to be one of the
key skills they use in their workplaces.
this approach to investigating a range of difficult social issues, such as the use of
drugs and alcohol, prostitution, violence and crime, which have major effects not
only on social life in general, but more specifically on peoples health and
wellbeing.
Linda Bennetts (1995) work, for example, looks at different cultural perspectives
on alcohol, and the impacts of alcoholism on families. Linda Whiteford and Judy
Vetucci (1997) have examined the effects of substance abuse in pregnancy, and
how
this might be prevented and Philippe Bourgoiss (1995) investigations in New
Yorks
Harlem reveal the subaltern economy surrounding crack dealing.
In the last few years I have worked in three main settings. First, in extending my
Ph.D. research, I assisted
in the development of culturally appropriate evaluations of indigenous residential
alcohol and drug treatment
centres. Acute and chronic social and health problems associated with substance
misuse among indigenous
people is regarded as a national issue, and while residential treatment programs are
seen as essential, health
professionals, researchers and indigenous people running these programs say that
they lack the tools to assess
their effectiveness. My research was designed to explore and measure appropriate
outcomes both during and
post treatment. It drew upon participatory action research, and was initiated and
controlled by the organizations
themselves (Chenhall 2007, 2008). The research, which was part of a National Health
and Medical Research
training fellowship in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander health, now informs
national and international debate.
It has demonstrated that the process of designing health evaluations can lead to
organizational change related
to both the focus and delivery of treatment.

Australia has low rates of tuberculosis but there are still high rates in immigrant and
indigenous communities.
A few years ago, a colleague and I conducted a study of tuberculosis in a North
Arnhem Land community
(Grace and Chenhall 2006). We found that the limited level of awareness and
knowledge about the cause and
symptoms of tuberculosis, and the reluctance of Aboriginal people to visit health
clinics, contributed to late
presentation of active TB, and lack of compliance with treatment. A number of issues
were related to this,
including cultural understandings of healing, lack of funding to support dedicated
treatment, and the difficulties
that local Aboriginal community leaders face in trying to influence the way in which
funding is allocated and
policies determined.
My other major research interest is in changing trends in substance misuse in remote
indigenous communities,
with a specific focus on youths. In recent research in the Northern Territory, another
anthropologist and I have
explored a number of issues related to the growing use of cannabis, petrol sniffing,
and teenage pregnancy
(Chenhall and Senior 2006, 2007; Senior and Chenhall 2008).
Given the recent interventionist policies of the Australian government around
restricting access to alcohol
within indigenous communities, our research showed that other types of drug use,
specifically cannabis use,
has grown. The research therefore elicited significant media and political attention,
and an unintended result
was the introduction of harsher penalties and fines associated with the possession
and trafficking of cannabis.
This did not align with our recommendations, which focused on the provision of
health and education services
to address the underlying social determinants of substance misuse (Carson et al.
2007). So the translation of
research to effective policy change is not as simple as it seems.
Drug and alcohol abuse and prostitution often occur in the same socioeconomic
arena. Pamela Downes work involves both advocacy and research with
prostitutes in Costa Rica (1999) and Edward Laumanns (2004) research in
Chicago
considers the complexity of sex markets and how these intersect with social
networks
and sexually transmitted diseases. He also considers sexual violence and its
social and cultural context.
Many social problems are related to mental health issues and, while these are
often regarded as an individual matter, how they are dealt with at a social level
is critical. There are wide cultural variations in how mental health problems are
understood and encompassed, and anthropological insights into these variations
are
useful in informing both the management and treatment of problems. They also
reveal changing attitudes: for example, Emily Martins work examines attitudes
to
mental conditions like manic depression and ADHD (attention deficit
hyperactivity
disorder). She observes that, because ideas about what makes an individual are
becoming more open to constant change and fluidity, these conditions have
been
undergoing a dramatic revision in American middle-class culture, from being
simply
dreaded liabilities, to be especially valuable assets that can potentially enhance
ones
life (Martin 2006: 84). Cultural attitudes to mental health also have to be
considered
in relation to physical issues: not just genetic, diet and lifestyle factors, but also
wider social, cultural and ecological influences requiring what Roger Sullivan and
his research collaborators have called a bio-cultural analysis. Their research in
Palau
was directed towards trying to discover why there was, most particularly among
the
men in the population, one of the highest incidences of schizophrenia in the
world
(Sullivan et al. 2007).
More extreme mental health issues often intersect with crime, and there has
been considerable media interest in analyses of the social causes of crime, and,
more
particularly, in the solving of crimes. Forensic anthropology features regularly in
novels, television programmes and films, and has been made famous by
programmes
such as Silent Witness. The role of the forensic anthropologist is usually to
identify
bones and determine the cause of death: she or he will begin by determining
whether
the bones are human, and will then look for indications of age, gender, and
ancestral
origin. Dental records are useful, as are old fractures and signs of diseases, hair
samples, blood type, and of course DNA. In general, this work is not as dramatic
as that depicted on television, but there are some famous cases: for example
Alfred
Harper (1999) describes the role of forensic anthropology in identifying tiny bone
and tooth fragments and thus solving a case in Connecticut, after a murderer had
disposed of his wifes body in an industrial woodchipper. In recent years, forensic
anthropologists have also been involved in identifying the victims of genocide in
countries such as Rwanda and, unfortunately, the need for this kind of work is
increasing.
It will be plain from the above account that there is enormous diversity in the
range of work done by anthropologists in relation to health, and a range of
subdisciplinary
areas of expertise have emerged for example, medical anthropology,
biological anthropology, nutritional anthropology and forensic anthropology.
Because anthropology invariably considers the context of social behaviour, there
is
also a considerable body of work concerned with the institutions that deal with
health issues.
NURSING A HOLISTIC UNDERSTANDING
Marion Droz Mendelzweig

Charge de Recherche, Haute Ecole de la Sant La Source,
Lausanne
I have always want to know about what people do and why they do it. Sometimes I
want to ask how do
they manage to behave like this? I guess being an anthropologist implies a capacity
to preserve a childish
curiosity.
My research is oriented towards the past rather than towards an ethnological other.
I did my first degree in
history but moved to studying anthropology when, while working for the International
Red Cross in 1994, I was
faced with the abomination of the genocide in Rwanda. As a member of a family that,
like so many others, was
subjected to the genocide perpetuated by the Nazis, I found that the Rwandan
experience resonated with my
own history and shed new light on the relationship between individuals and the
societies that determine their
identity. After seeing the results of genocide in Rwanda, I turned to anthropology
hoping for an explanation to
keep me from despairing about humanity. I cant say that it has given me more
optimism, but I am convinced
that gaining anthropological tools in order to look at humankind helps us to be more
intelligent in considering
what is going on in the world, and in imagining the future.
To study anthropology, I joined the Ethnology Institute at the Neuchtel University in
Switzerland. It was
a very attractive place for young scholars eager to learn about the infinite richness of
human cultures. My
studies there were a continual voyage of discovery, not so much from the topics we
studied, but rather from
the way I learned to look at them. Each new research perspective was a trigger to
more exploration: would
I continue in the anthropology of religion; in the anthropology of food; or in the
anthropology of material
culture? Among so many possible avenues, the word health acquired new meaning
and complexity.
The subject of my MA thesis on medically assisted procreation opened a door for
working in the
medical realm as a research fellow in a school for nursing. Broadly, the difference
between nursing and a medical
approach is that the first is centred on the person and the second on the disease.
From the nursing point of
view, the interest lies not so much in the biological causes for a disease, but on the ill
persons understanding
of it and on the social and environmental conditions that affect its progress and
treatment. It is therefore
not surprising that nursing schools include in their teaching programmes
anthropological approaches to health,
culture, kinship and social groups, or that nursing as a discipline is keen to draw
professional knowledge from
anthropology. There is a common objective: gaining the capacity to understand the
other.
My tasks at the school are twofold: I teach anthropological approaches to students
and conduct research

projects, for example looking at health networks for migrants. I see anthropologys
major contribution to nursing
as providing a holistic understanding of the social phenomenon around health and
medical care.
MANAGING HEALTH
I noted earlier the utility of anthropology in considering health institutions such

as
nursing homes, where anthropologists consider the issues surrounding the longterm
care of elderly or disabled people. Some researchers have also turned an analytic
eye
on the health professions themselves, examining their political, social and
economic
dynamics. Elizabeth Hart, for example, is particularly interested in the
anthropology
of organizations, and has turned her attention to the way that the institutional
cultures of health care facilities enable some people to have more voice than
others.
She looks at peoples experiences of speaking in organizational contexts where
they
feel themselves to be in some way suppressed, or marginalized, or even describe
themselves as invisible as nurses often do when speaking of their caring skills
(Hart 2006: 146). Hart works mostly with women in the British National Health
Service, but also with senior male managers, who she found face similar
dilemmas
in speaking up, being required sometimes to profess confidence in the policies
they
were implementing, despite serious misgivings regarding their efficacy.
Gender issues also surfaced in Joan Cassells (2003) research, which considered
the realities for women surgeons in a male-dominated area of health care, where
metaphors
about practice are highly aggressive, employing images of war and invasion,
and valorising courage and rapid decision-making. Her research raises questions
about whether women actually display the assumed traditional female
characteristics,
such as sensitivity, warmth, compassion, and whether (and how) this affects
the operating theatre.
The research also made it plain that women are often not welcome as equals in
this arena, which as comparative ethnographies have shown is a far from
unusual
dynamic in male dominated arena: Similar distrust and exclusion of women is
found in all the adrenalized vocations . . . such masculine thinking is familiar to
anthropologists: the sacred flutes, trumpets, bull-roarers, will lose their potency if
women learn their mysteries (Cassell 2003: 275).
Many social and moral values permeate health care. For example, Deborah
Luptons work is closely concerned with medicine as culture and she is
particularly
interested in how medical professionals classify patients unofficially, as good or
bad
depending on whether their illness is self-inflicted (for example via smoking, or

promiscuity); whether they are compliant to treatment; and whether they
question
the doctors authority, or are hostile and complaining.
While medicine is predicated on scientific principles of objectivity and the
ethical tenet of altruism, moral values are suffused throughout the medical encounter.
In doctors and other medical professionals interaction with patients,
it is not only the biomedical model and the imperatives of time which shape
medical judgements, but value judgements about the patient based on gender,
social class, ethnicity, age, physical attractiveness and the type of illness (for
example, whether it is deserved or not). (Lupton 2003: 134)
Lupton also considers how alternative therapies challenge medical authority,

often by rejecting simple mind-body dualisms and recognising the importance of
a
wider human-environmental interaction. This returns us to the original point in
this
chapter, that there are many different cultural models of health and well-being.
In
contemporary multicultural societies, such diversity requires careful governance,
and
a number of anthropologists are involved in needs assessment and the
development
of health policy.
Eric Bailey, for example, worked with an organization called United Health
Care, which co-sponsors annual health fairs throughout Detroit (Bailey 1998).
The organization found that it had had little success with the African American
communities in fact their participation in health services was declining. Baileys
cultural-historical research revealed that many institutions providing health care
for
this sector of the population were in decline, and often depended on large
teaching
hospitals, with high staff turnover. This engendered little trust or use of their
services. Additionally, many people did not participate in the provision of free
health
screenings because charity care was seen as demeaning to individuals. The
medical
staff conducting them (often in unsuitable settings) were generally from nonAfrican
ethnic backgrounds. Neither they, nor the promotional materials they used, were
culturally sensitive to local perspectives. With these problems made visible, it
became
feasible to organize the delivery of health services in a more effective way (in
Ferraro
1998).
Similarly, Merry Wood was employed in British Colombia, by the Greater
Vancouver Health Service Society, an organization with 400 staff members in
nine
mental health teams. Woods work focused on long-term planning, assessing
needs
and evaluating programmes, and she produced a short manual for people to use
in reviewing their policies and programs, with a view to improving services and
responding to the needs of diverse cultural groups (Wood, in Ervin 2005: 106).
While also critical in other areas, ethics are of particular importance in medical
and health-related research. There are major emotive issues, such as abortion,
which
remain a focus for intense conflict (see Ginsburg 1989). As touched on earlier in
this
volume, there are complex ethical issues in human organ replacement too, where
a severe shortage of organs for transplantation has opened the door to marketing
approaches and the idea of organs as commodities has raised some major social
and moral issues (Marshall, Thomasma and Daar 1996: 1). New techniques in
gene analysis and potential gene therapies have also opened up a large set of
ethical
concerns. For example anthropologists such as Rayna Rapp (1989) and Aviad Raz
(2004) have considered the discourses around genetic counselling and how this
reframes medical ideas; and Kathryn Taylors (1988) work considers the issues
around the disclosure of medical information.
As this chapter illustrates, although many people think of health as a
specialized
category, it is an intensely social and cultural area of life and, as such, all of its
aspects
benefit from ethnographic analysis which reveals the underlying ideas and beliefs
that direct human action, and the social, economic and political realities that
form
the context in which health is upheld or compromised. There are many
fascinating
and worthwhile research opportunities in this area.
8 ANTHROPOLOGY, ART
AND
IDENTITY
DEFINING IDENTITY
Human beings spend a lot of time and energy creating themselves and others,
and
formulating ideas about social identity: who we are, and who they are. They do
this
in a host of ways: through language, performance, art, material culture, ritual
and
other media. Every human society, small or large, has a vision of its own
characteristics,
and defines these in comparison to others. There are many sub-divisions of
identity
according to things like gender and sexuality, age, class, education, political
ideology,
religious beliefs and so on. Larger societies contain sub-cultural groups:
indigenous
communities; ethnic groups; immigrant populations; rural and urban inhabitants.
And there are more specialized groupings, defined by profession, or by their

interest
in particular sporting activities. Some years ago, Benedict Anderson (1991)
coined
the now well-known phrase imagined communities to describe how people
identify themselves, and there are many such communities: social, professional
and
ideological. They can be quite specific: for example the scientific communities
that
span the globe are not large, but they share a common professional identity. And
people are linked by other common interests, for example in music or art.
While there is a tendency to assume that the arts (in whatever form) are a kind
of non-essential add-on to culture, anthropologists take the arts seriously. They
see
identity and how it is represented as a vital part of human life, and recognize that
it plays a key role in conflicts between groups at a local, national and
international
a n t h r o p o l o g y , a r t a n d i d e n t i t y 139
level; in arguments over land and resources; and in the maintenance of cultural
diversity. Understanding how people deal with issues of identity and
representation
is therefore practical as well as absorbing, and many anthropologists are thus
closely
engaged in understanding the processes through which identity is constructed
and
expressed. This chapter considers some of the work that researchers do in this
area.
GENDER AND SEXUALITY

One of the most fundamental aspects of human identity is that of gender, but
crosscultural
comparison reveals that there are wide variations in ideas about how many
genders exist, and how these are composed, whether by genital anatomy (as in
most
Western societies), by density of flesh and bone (as in Nepal) or by inclination
and
behaviour (as in societies where gender categories are more fluid). Harriet
Whiteheads
(1981) early research with Native American cultures, for example, observed that
is
common for three gender categories to be accepted: male, female, and a third,
more
mixed, category. And Sharyn Graham Davies (2004) research with the Bugis in
Indonesia describes a system in which five gender categories are defined.
Human societies have equally diverse ideas about sexuality and how this is
constituted. Jennifer Robertsons (2005) comparative research with lesbian and
gay
cultures in different societies reveals many cultural differences in how sexuality is
perceived, represented and experienced, and she notes wide variations in the
extent
to which same-sex unions are considered to be acceptable.
The anthropology of gender often focuses on how ideas about masculinity or
femininity are upheld in different cultural contexts. Henrik Ronsbo (2003: 157),
for example, working with young male footballers in Central America, concluded
that sport plays a key role in creating their local identities, providing a process
similar to that previously offered by religious brotherhoods. Young men, when
playing football, and other villagers, when watching it, embody personal and
social
identities (Ronsbo 2003: 157). I became interested in similar issues when
working
with young stockmen in northern Australia, observing the intensive socialization
through which they learned how to be men in a very tough arena (Strang
2001b).
In fact, as illustrated by Barry Smarts (2005) work on sporting celebrities, there
is
now an entire anthropology of sport that considers the many social meanings
that
are expressed through sporting activity.
Rita Astutis (1998) work in Madagascar, examining the different attitudes to
the birth of boys and girls, underlines the importance of gender identity in
defining
social status and power. This is further illustrated in Lila Abu-Lughods work,
which
describes the intense social pressure through which, in Egypt, successful female
movie stars have been criticized for neglecting their husbands and families and
forced to repent, giving up their careers and conforming to Islamic ideas about
femininity. There is
. . . a sentiment being widely disseminated in the press and other media, especially
in the last two decades of increasing unemployment, that womens proper place
is in the home with their families. Actresses and other show business personalities
epitomize the challenge to that domestic model and are targeted in part because
they are the most extreme and visible cases of a widespread phenomenon:
working women. (Abu-Lughod 1997: 505)
Issues of equality for women in the workplace can be found everywhere. Gillian
Ranson, for example, conducts research with female engineers in Calgary
looking
at the ramifications of increasing female participation in one of the last bastions
of
male domination (Ranson 2005: 104). One of her major questions was whether
they would remain in this field for the long haul (Ranson 2005), and what their
experiences revealed about gender relations and professional opportunities for
women in contemporary Canada.
There are many ways to consider the effects of gender relations in different
societies.
As we saw in earlier chapters, gender is also an important factor in defining
ownership of and access to resources, and it commonly affects access to
education
too, as is illustrated by Anna Robinson-Pants research on women and literacy in
India and Africa, which draws a relationship between literacy and the degree of
equality that women are able to achieve (Robinson-Pant 2004).
RACE, NATIONALISM AND SOCIAL

MOVEMENTS
The other key marker of identity that exerts a major influence on peoples lives is
that of race. Although most anthropologists would say that the idea of race is an
invention a cultural device for describing the other, which has little or no
genetic
foundation the concept nevertheless retains a lot of popular currency. Citing
LeviStrauss, one of anthropologys founding fathers, Clifford Geertz (1986) pointed
out
that every culture hopes to define itself by resisting those that surround it. This
idea is very evident in discourses about race, which speak directly to
fundamental
ideas about what human beings are composed of: in a literal sense, blood and
genes,
but also in a wider sense, knowledge, beliefs and ideologies all of which can be
seen as containing an identity vulnerable to pollution by otherness (see Douglas
2002[1966], Strang 2004).
Part of what anthropologists do in relation to race is to consider how ideas about
it are created and upheld. For example, Carolyn Fluehr-Lobbans (2005) work
examines how racism happens in America, looking at the biological and cultural
ideas, and the social and spatial arrangements that allow racist assumptions to
persist in many communities. Gillian Cowlishaws (1998) research charts how
ideas
about race are expressed in relationships between Aboriginal people and the
wider
Australian population; and Peter Wade (2002) considers the implications of
concepts
of race in the United Kingdoms increasingly multicultural society.
Popular ideas about racial identity have rarely produced positive visions of
the other, and many anthropologists, whose profession necessarily includes an
appreciation of diversity, have worked hard to combat racist stereotypes and
their
effects: for example as we have seen in previous chapters acting as
advocates for
beleaguered minority communities, openly criticizing racist policies and
practices,
and mediating in conflicts. As in other areas of research, an essential part of this
task is cultural translation: the communication of different realities and
experiences
of life, creating a more fully informed representation of identity that serves as a
positive alternative to the stereotypes that sometimes appear in the media. In
Australia, for example, Bain Attwood and Andrew Markus (1999) have been part
of a lively intellectual movement to make visible the hidden history of Aboriginal
people since colonization. In the UK, Brian Street (1975) wrote critically about the
way that savages have been portrayed in English literature over time, and
Jeremy
MacClancy (2002) has be at pains to show that the other is exotic no more.
However, ideas about racial identity are not invariably negative: for example
Carol Trossets (1993) classic ethnography of Welsh communities shows that
where
stereotypes originate within where people identify themselves as a racial group
with
certain characteristics then this can be a positive and binding mechanism. Thus
the Welsh people have revived their own language and brought it back into
everyday
use, and, in doing so, have achieved a stronger sense of identity. On the other
side
of the planet, Aboriginal Australians have been astute in subverting negative
media
stereotypes of themselves as primitive, pre-modern people, reconstructing
them
in more positive terms that valorize traditional ecological knowledge, long-term,
sustainable environmental management and harmony with nature (Hendry
2006),
and which stress the artistic creativity that their culture enables (Kleinert and
Neale
2000).
Like race, nationalism is also a potentially double-edged sword. It can serve as a
way of thinking about identity that encourages solidarity and a sense of
community;
or as a way of defining the other in negative terms and dealing with them
aggressively.
Robert Fosters (2002) work traces how, through engagement with Western
material
culture, disparate (and often warring) communities in Papua New Guinea have
begun to develop the idea of a nation which can engage more collectively and
perhaps more effectively with a wider global context. Alternatively,
anthropologists
such as Jane Cowan (2000), working in Macedonia, and Joel Halpern and David
Kideckel (2000), working in the former Yugoslavia, have focused on how ideas of
nationhood have led neighbouring communities into bitter internal conflicts. This
is
a complex issue in post-colonial settler societies too. In New Zealand and
Australia,
for example, indigenous groups have long fought for an egalitarian bicultural
approach,
but as Erich Koligs (2004) research has shown, contemporary pressures to
encompass multiculturalism can often override these negotiations.
In addition to races and nations, there are other cultural and sub-cultural groups
that share a common identity. As noted in Chapter 4., large social movements
such
as environmentalism also form distinct communities, linked by a shared ideology.
Such movements can be based on class: for example, Sharryn Kasmir (2005)
conducted
research in a large automobile factory in Tennessee, examining how class
identities were mobilized to resist a labor-management partnership and assert
worker
identification. Religions have often formed the basis of large social movements,
and
many ethnographers have turned their attention to the study of religious groups,
thus
Joel Robbins (2007) work considers the anthropology of Christianity, and Simon
Colemans (2007) research on religious language and ritual has led him to
consider
new forms of worship via technologies such as the Internet. Tanya Luhrmann
works
with neo-Pagan communities in London, and notes the long history of
alternative
social and religious movements:
I took myself off to London to conduct fieldwork among a subculture of people
several thousand at least who thought of themselves as, or as inspired by,
the witches, wizards, druids, kabbalists and shamans of mostly European lore.
They met in different kinds of group: covens, lodges, brotherhoods which

all ultimately descended from a nineteenth century group the Golden Dawn
created by three dissident Freemasons in the heyday of spiritualism and
psychical research. (Luhrmann 2002: 121)
There are other virtual communities enabled by Internet connections too. For
example, Steven Klienknecht conducts research on the transnational subculture
of computer hackers whose common interest lies in breaching the boundaries of
institutions and their systems. Given the potential mayhem that such hacking
can
create, understanding the motivations of this group is important.
REPRESENTING IDENTITY
How do people show and tell who they are? As implied in the previous section
on
education, language itself is a key plank of identity, containing specifically
cultural
categories, concepts and values, and this is why retaining traditional languages
is
often seen as central to the ability of minority groups to hold their own in larger
multicultural societies. Just as reviving the Welsh language has been an
important
development in defining Welshness, indigenous communities all around the world
struggle to keep their own languages alive. Linguistic anthropologists have long
played a vital role in this endeavour, often recording entire language
orthographies
so that they are available to younger generations even if local language usage
lapses for
a while (as often happens when small-scale societies are disrupted by
colonialism).1
In Australia, prior to the colonial era, there were several hundred different
language
groups, many of which also had special religious languages for ritual occasions,
so there is a lot of work to be done to preserve what remains of this extraordinary
diversity. In the Aboriginal community where I work in North Queensland, for
example, there are three different language groups: Yir Yoront, Kokobera and
Kunjen.
Since the 1930s, a number of linguistic specialists have worked there: Barry
Alpher
(1991) wrote a vast lexicon of the Yir Yoront language; Phillip Hamilton (1994)
compiled an orthography for the Kokobera people, and Bruce Sommer (1972) did
long-term research on the Kunjen language.
Similar kinds of work have been done for a long time in many parts of the world:
in New Zealand, for instance, Joan Metges (1976) work has underlined why an
insistence on the teaching and use of Maori is central to the indigenous
communitys
identity and, in North America, Keith Bassos (1996) research with the Western
Apache also draws attention to the importance of seeing how language relates to
place, which he maintains is essential to understanding peoples belief systems
and
their relationships with their environment.
Because minority groups often find that their traditions are subsumed by those
of the larger societies they inhabit, language retention and political resistance to
absorption or assimilation are often closely intertwined. At times, language use
itself
becomes a point of contention, and this is amply illustrated by Jacqueline Urlas
(2006) research on the Basque language revival movement in northern Europe.
She has been chronicling the Basque peoples efforts to preserve Euskara,
reputedly
the oldest living language in Europe. Her research reports the governments
closure
of the Euskara language newspaper and the arrest of its editorial board (who
were
accused of collaborating with the terrorist group, ETA). The local populace was
outraged, and tens of thousands of people took to the streets to demonstrate
against
the governments decision:
To the many protesters, the closing of the Basque newspaper signifies an entirely
new level of intervention, namely an extension of the anti-ETA clampdown into
the domain of media and culture, and effectively the criminalisation of Euskara
itself . . . Now that terrorism is perceived to be everywhere, we can expect to see
an increase in this kind of repressive action . . . [but] the determined citizens of
the Basque Country have not been easily silenced. They have raised money and
organised to set up a new Basque-language newspaper. (Urla 2006: 23)
Closely aligned with language is the importance of oral histories as a form of

identity construction and self-representation. There is a classic phrase that
history
is written by the winners. Thus the histories of colonized communities or those
defeated in war have often been omitted from official records. The phrase also
underlines
the reality that official history is often his-story, rendering womens
contributions
to events invisible. And it assumes that history is written, leaving little room for
the stories of people who do not write. In non-writing cultures particularly (but
also
in others) oral history is a vital part of everyday life, transmitting knowledge from
one generation to the next, and enabling people to describe themselves to
themselves
and to others. Paul Connerton, whose classic monograph focused on how
societies
remember, described even village gossip as a means by which a village
informally
constructs a continuous communal history of itself (Connerton 1989: 17).
Over the last few decades ethnographers have increasingly recorded oral
histories
in order to move beyond the limitations of officially sanctioned accounts. In
Australia, anthropologists such as Jeremy Beckett (1988) and Dawn May (1994)
have made use of oral accounts to critique the way that Aboriginal history has
been
excluded from the official colonial record, and to describe Aboriginal
perspectives
on the colonial experience. Instead of an authorised version of Aboriginality in
Australia, there has been a medley of voices, black and white, official and
unofficial,
national and local, scientific and journalistic, religious and secular, interested and
disinterested, all offering or contesting particular constructions of Aboriginality
(Beckett 1988: 7).
Similar issues arise in other post-colonial societies, as illustrated, for example, by
the work of Marie Mauz, Michael Harkin and Sergei Kan with north-west coast
communities in North America (2004), and Ranginui Walkers (2004) depictions of
Maori history in New Zealand.
Whether oral or written, history is essentially a narrative about personal and
collective experience. Thus Paul Antze and Michael Lambeks work focuses on
memory as the ground for cultural reproduction (1996: xxi):
Memory serves as both a phenomenological ground of identity (as when we
know implicitly who we are and the circumstances that have made us) and the
means for explicit identity construction (as when we search our memories in
order to understand ourselves or when we offer particular stories about ourselves
in order to make a certain kind of impression). (Antze and Lambek 1996: xvi)
ART AND PERFORMANCE
Cultures create narratives about who they are not only through language, oral
history
and written media, but also through a range of visual media. The anthropology of
art thus offers us a rich source of ideas about how people uphold and
communicate
their identities, beliefs and values. There is some overlap with the discipline of
art
history, which tends to focus on the art of larger societies, tracing particular
artistic
movements over time, and with Cultural Studies, which focuses on a range of
media,
usually in industrialized societies (see Power and Scott 2004). Anthropologists
who
specialize in the analysis of art are also interested in these shifts, but because of
their
professional focus on local or specific communities, they are more often involved
in
work relating to the art production of smaller groups and more concerned to
locate
their analyses in an explanatory ethnographic context.
Australia again provides a lively research area in this regard. As anthropologists
such as Howard Morphy (1998), Fred Myers (2002, 2006) and Peter Sutton (1989)
have shown, Aboriginal art provides an excellent avenue through which to
understand
the complexities of indigenous culture. As this art has become internationally
renowned and marketed transnationally, it has become an important source of
income for indigenous communities. Thus contemporary studies also consider not
only how art functions at home, but also how it mediates relationships between
local communities and the larger societies with which they interact (see Klienart
and
Neale 2000, Morphy and Perkins 2006).
The production, circulation, and consumption of Aboriginal acrylic paintings
constitutes an important dimension of self-production of Aboriginal people
and of the processes of representing culture . . . This is a hybrid process of
cultural production, bringing together the Aboriginal painters, art critics, and
ethnographers, in addition to curators, collectors and dealers: in short, an
artworld. (Myers 2006: 495)
There are many other approaches to the study of art in anthropology. Ruth
Phillips (2006), for example, looks at the souvenir art produced for tourists by
indigenous
communities, and Robert Thompson explores traditions of artistic criticism
in sub-Saharan Africa: Yoruba art critics are experts of strong mind and articulate
voices who measure in words the quality of works of art . . . Yoruba artistic
criticism
may occur at a dance feast where the excellence of sculpture and motion
becomes a
matter of intense concern (Thompson 2006b: 242).
As Thompsons work implies, not all art is concerned with paintings or sculpture.
Many groups wear clothes and objects that are major identity signifiers, and
there
is also the ultimate form of social identification, in which people paint, tattoo or
scarify culturally meaningful designs onto their own bodies. All of these things
serve
to manifest peoples identities to concretize them in physical terms.
Less tangible expressions of identity are equally important, and performances of
songs, dances, stories, plays and so on are often a central part of community
selfexpression.
For instance, Pernille Goochs (1998) work with the Van Gujjar people
of Uttar Pradesh showed how public performances offered positive opportunities
for
them to present beneficial representations of their culture as the voice of
nature.
Similar functions are apparent in anthropological research on dance, as
illustrated
by John Normans (1970) classic text on the Ghost Dance of the Sioux, and Joy
Hendrys (2006) survey of a number of indigenous communities, which
underlined
the importance of dance and performance in their efforts to communicate a
particular
cultural identity. As Simone Abram, Jacqueline Waldren and Don MacLeod point
out, identity often comes to the fore when local communities perform for
tourists:
A NATURAL TURN TO THE ANTHROPOLOGY OF DANCE

Jonathan Skinner
Lecturer in Social Anthropology, Queens University Belfast
I want to tell you about how I came to anthropology and what it means to me being
an anthropologist. I
was very lucky when I was growing up: the only son of parents who loved travelling. I
travelled with them
a lot, and with a number of youth groups. I didnt really know what I was doing, but I
kept diaries of my
travels, did exchanges with people in Finland, Israel and Canada, and retraced Marco
Polos trade caravan
route (yes, some people do win those cornflake packet competitions). I even spent a
year on exchange in a
school in Canada after finishing school in England before taking up my place at the
University of St Andrews
in Scotland (I fell in love with the castle when visiting). At university I chose
anthropology, psychology and
philosophy for my first year subjects because I wanted to see what they were like. I
didnt know anything
about any of them. They were all challenging in different ways: anthropology was
weird and made me think a
lot about my travels and exchanges; philosophy taught me the consequences of my
thoughts and actions; and
psychology was interesting but all statistics and multiple-choice tests. Sometimes
anthropology and psychology
came together as we looked at aggression in societies and in human nature; I would
then get frustrated by
the psychologists talking generally when I was reading about the Yanomamo and the
Ik, and how it was so
different in different parts of the world.
In my summers at the University of St Andrews I continued to travel and did some
English Language teaching
in Romania. That experience turned into an undergraduate anthropology dissertation
looking at ethnic tensions
between Romanians and Hungarians living in Transylvania (a part of Romania near
Vlad Draculs castle). I liked
the anthropology department at St Andrews more and more as an undergraduate. I
enjoyed myself and wrote
for student newspapers, acted, did lots of sport and worked in the students union.
The dissertation got me out
of the university and mixing with all sorts of people, asking questions, talking,
drinking and dancing and
all in the name of research.
When I graduated I thought about continuing with all this. I liked the mix between
people and books. I
liked the emphasis anthropology has upon real people living real lives in a particular
context. I was addicted
to sampling different worlds. Edmund Leach calls this butterfly collecting and was
critical of anthropologists
doing too much of it. But I didnt want to go back to Romania Id liked it, but had
also been very ill
after having to drink homemade vodka at the start of all the meals, even breakfast
(to kill off all the bugs,
of course).
In my first year as a post-graduate at St Andrews, supporting myself financially by
giving tutorials and
teaching English to Japanese students, I read a lot about British colonialism and I
changed my research direction.
People continue to represent their identity in terms of folkloric costumes . . .

and
practices such as music, dance, cuisine, etc. and assert the authority of their
local
knowledge by claiming their status in terms of identity (Abram, Waldren and

MacLeod 1997: 5).
There are only a few British colonies left, so I found an island in the Caribbean called
Montserrat. Hey, I was
paying my way with loans and teaching, so I felt entitled to such a fieldwork
destination.
Montserrat was amazing! A small, tear-shaped island in the Caribbean with very
friendly people, little
tourism, lots of Carnival and calypso, and an unusual connection with Ireland some
Montserratians are known
controversially as the Black Irish of the Caribbean. I was there looking at colonial
relations when suddenly a
volcano erupted. I was evacuated and left most of my clothes and possessions
behind except for my notebooks.
I came back to St Andrews and experienced all sorts of culture shock in reverse. Id
left the island so quickly
that part of me was still there. Every time I did the laundry, the vibrations from the
spin cycle would give
me palpitations, and I would sweat as my body took me back to the island, the
eruption and the earth
tremors.
After writing my Ph.D. thesis I got a job in a Sociology department as the token
anthropologist. My work
shifted to looking at reactions to the volcano, and living with risk. I then took over the
editorship of the
journal Anthropology in Action and began working with groups of anthropologists
around the world, going
to conferences and bringing conference panels to press by encouraging them to
publish their latest applied
anthropology in the journal. Check it out online!
To cut a longer story short, in 2003 I moved to Belfast where I currently teach
anthropology. Having taken
up dancing as a hobby while writing my Ph.D. thesis, I found lots of interesting
connections with my work in
the Caribbean, examining peoples ideas about risk and community: who to dance
with, who to avoid, and why,
and how people narrate and order their everyday lives. I still write about what is
going on on Montserrat, but
am also more broadly interested in people who dance. At the moment Im writing
about dance as an informal
therapy for getting over clinical depression, comparing dancers in Belfast with
dancers in Sacramento, CA (I
know that choice of fieldsite again, but someone has to do it). In Belfast the salsa
dancers come together
and it is a way for Protestants and Catholics to integrate and get over the past
Troubles; in Sacramento the
salsa dancers come together and it is a way for latino migrants to recreate their
everynight life and to feel at
home in a different country, even if it is just for a few hours. Same dance, different
meanings. This fascinates
me.
Id do it all the same again if I could. Anthropology gives me that space/excuse to
explore. Ive never
regretted the anthropology route, although I have worried about what would have
happened if I had missed

the subject entirely.
Tourism has, in many ways, replaced the colonial frontier as the place where
different cultures meet and perform their identities to each other. With
globalization
it has become a major industry (see Reid 2003), and one in which major political
and economic inequalities become highly visible (Coleman and Crang 2002). Less
powerful groups face difficult choices about engaging in tourist industries in order
to make a living, or resisting pressure to perform themselves for the
gratification of
wealthier groups. Thus Xianghong Feng asks who benefits? when areas are
opened
up to tourism:
The Chinese government is making tourism an important rural development
strategy. Local governments and outside developers jointly manage and develop
natural and cultural resources to increase tourism revenues. The government
sells development and management rights to large for-profit corporations . . .
Pleasant climate, stunning views, colorful ethnic minority cultures, and the
newly discovered and partially restored Ming Dynasty Southern China Great
Wall are the primary tourist attractions in Fenghuang County. This project
impacts 374,000 people, made up of 29 national minorities and representing 74
percent of the local population. Some researchers argue that this public-private
partnership successfully produces profits for developers and creates economic
growth. The present research uses a power and scale perspective to identify the
preliminary socioeconomic impacts of this capital-intensive development model
on local communities [and] to identify the decision-makers, document the
distribution of social power, and identify the flow of costs and benefits through
the tourism system. (Feng 2008: 207)
However, unless subject to a repressive regime, host communities are not

passive
recipients of the effects of tourism: they often find multiple ways to negotiate
relationships
in ways that also fulfil their own needs. This is nicely illustrated by Assa
Dorans research in the city of Varanasi:
Contemporary studies of tourism in the Third World often focus on the farreaching
economic, cultural and environmental consequences of tourism on local
populations. Scholars have argued that guest/host interactions reflect a relation
of domination in which . . . wealthy Western tourists travel in search of the exotic
Orient. The tourists are then served and catered to by local communities who
are dependent on their business. Such polarities tend to privilege the guests as
the purveyors of change, while the creative and innovative practices of the host
group are rendered invisible . . . I examine the boatmen of Varanasi and their
role as culture brokers, negotiating the sacred city for visitors . . . I look at the
multiple strategies and tactics that boatmen have developed to satisfy their needs
and desires to their own advantage . . . the boatmen are quick to tune in to those
with whom they are dealing. Moreover, the close encounters that boatmen have
with tourists enable them to view Western culture as well as their own local
culture critically. (Doron 2005: 32)
Tourism is therefore a fruitful site for research into the representational issues
that these cultural meetings engender and into the complex social, economic
and
political relationships that ensue
Along with dance and performance, music is an important part of
representational
expression, and there is a large anthropological subfield of ethnomusicology

devoted to studying music in communities all around the world. This field is very
diverse, containing, for example, Fiona Magowans (2007) research, which
examines
the songs and rituals used for mourning in Northern Australia, and Greg Booths
(2000) work on the music of Bollywood.
The study of art and performance builds on a longstanding anthropological
interest in formal rituals and ceremonies. All human societies have rituals: these
are
often religious or semi-religious in nature, and intensely laden with cultural
meanings.
As the influential theorist Victor Turner said, the performance of a ritual
celebrates
the values, common interests and moral order of a group, and so transcends its
divisions, binding it together (Turner 1982: 10). Rituals are therefore very
revealing
of cultural ideas, offering an abiding source of insights into particular worldviews.
Thus Pnina Werbner has used her research on Christmas rituals in Western
societies
to consider how these create a moral economy of honour and debt and
reproduce
social relations. They also, it would appear, establish hierarchical relations
between
parents and children and between rich and poor, as well as excluding nonChristian
ethnic groups from the performance of the nation at Christmas time (Werbner
1996).
Rituals are wonderfully expressive of cosmological ideas, and any ethnographic
account examining a societys beliefs must surely consider how these are
manifested
in formal ceremonies. The ethnographic canon abounds with examples that
provide
insights into the intangible: for example, Silvia Rodgers research on the rituals
that
are carried out to launch Navy ships considers how these animate and personify
a
belief in the ship as a female being:
If the ceremony of launching looks at first sight like the transition rite that
accompanies the ship as she passes from land to water, it soon becomes clear
that the critical transition is from the status of an inanimate being to that of an
animate and social being. From being a numbered thing at her launch, the ship
receives her name and all that comes with the name. This includes everything
that gives her an individual and social identity, her luck, her life essence and her
femininity . . . This ceremony is unique in our society . . . in that it symbolically
brings to life an artefact. Members of the Royal Navy, and indeed the merchant
navies, talk about a ship as having a life, a soul, a spirit, a personality and a character
of her own. (Rodgers 2006: 231)
As this example illustrates, material culture is inevitably encoded with cultural

values, and there are many anthropologists involved in research that explores
the
meaning of things. This links with the work on human-environmental
relationships
that we considered in Chapter 4, which suggests that people find meaning in all
of
the material objects that surround them, including natural things such as water
(Strang 2004), or trees (Rival 1998), as well as the artefacts they have made
themselves,
which serve to maintain their social and economic relationships and express
particular cultural identities.
MUSEUMS AND CULTURAL HERITAGE

Ethnographic research has often involved collecting images and material culture
as well as social data. As well as providing a useful focus for analysis these are
an
important part of how cultural identities are represented. As noted at the
beginning
of this chapter, identity is a comparative business, which invariably involves
selfrepresentations
and representations of the other. Who controls the representation of
a group is intensely revealing of power relations. This is readily evident in areas
such
as photography, film and museum studies, which intersect with what
anthropologists
do in a variety of ways. Since the early days of the discipline there has been a
steady
shift away from a somewhat distanced anthropological view of other societies to
more collaborative co-produced representations (see Mills, Babiker and
Ntarangwi
2006). This reflects changes in the relationships between anthropologists and
their
host communities, which, since the fierce critiques of the 1960s and 1970s
offered
by feminist anthropologists and indigenous groups, have become keenly aware of
the need to establish mutually beneficial working relationships that are
characterized
by equality and shared control over the representational process. It has now
become
standard for representational projects to be carried out in collaboration with local
experts and indigenous scholars.
This shift is particularly obvious in the museum sphere. Museums have always
sought to represent cultural realities, and they are a primary site at which many
people first come into contact with ideas about other cultural groups.
Ethnographic
museums bring material ideas into a space in which these can be examined and,
ideally, explained and understood. The role of cultural translator is obviously
critical
in this process: Ethnographic museums and applied anthropologists have played
a
fundamental role in the representation and interpretation of indigenous peoples,
both in the colonial and post-colonial periods (Stanton 1999: 282).
For anthropologists, working in museums is not just about designing and
explaining
exhibitions; it is also about mediating relationships and exchanges of
information between different cultural groups. John Stanton works at the Berndt
Museum at the University of Western Australia, and notes two major
developments:
first, the ethical need, coupled with demands from the cultural groups being
represented, for greater participation of these communities in the direction and
management of museums. Second, the development of research, exhibition and
education programmes that link museums more closely with the communities
that
are (or were) the source of the artefacts on display, and involve them directly in
exhibition design and research (Stanton 1999). Thus, as Mary Bouquet and Nuno
Porto observe (2005), museums are now involved in a collaborative and dynamic
process of cultural production (see also Bouquet 2001).
Anthropologists work for or advise all kinds of museums, ranging from the large
established national museums, to the small museums that communities initiate
in
order to represent themselves. There is a rapidly increasing number of the latter
in many local and indigenous communities, sparked by political desires for
selfrepresentations,
and by the enlarging tourist trade around the world.
A natural extension of museum research is the wider arena of cultural heritage,
in
which many anthropologists and archaeologists are now employed (see Shackel
and
Chambers 2004). This is concerned with the ways in which heritage is
manifested:
through landscapes, architecture, customary practices, the use of resources, the
designation of sacred sites, archaeological remains or indeed any object or
activity
that can be said to encapsulate culture over time.
Cultural heritage is a fast expanding area, and there are several reasons for this.
Many indigenous or ethnic communities have become keen to define and
articulate
their identity for social, political and economic reasons, and a lot of cultural
heritage
work is done to support claims for land or resources. The aforementioned tourist
trade has also been influential in encouraging communities to depict their
identities
more actively, and sometimes to commodify and market their culture in order to
gain an income from tourists.
But cultural heritage is not just something that small ethnic minorities or
indigenous
communities are interested in: it is also something that larger societies use
to affirm their own claims to land (most particularly in post-colonial
environments)
and to generate income from tourism. In addition, it provides a way in which, in
an increasingly mobile and fragmented world, people can construct a locally
rooted
and meaningful sense of identity and feel that they are part of a community. It is
an
old adage in anthropology that active self-representations are most often made
by
minorities who feel that their identity may be under threat in some way, but now,
in an increasingly cosmopolitan social environment, this pressure is felt by many
groups of people.
A useful example is provided by Mary La Lones (2001) work, which led her to
become involved in an effort to preserve mining heritage from the coal-mining
era
in the Appalachian mountains. Knowledge about that era was fading away, until a
group of former miners and families formed a local heritage association:
As an anthropologist at Radford University in the New River Valley, I witnessed
the groups activities and recognized the need to lend anthropological assistance
in the form of an oral history project designed to document and preserve
knowledge of the mining heritage. Few written records have survived . . . The
bulk of knowledge about mining life existed in the minds of aging members of
the mining families who, ranging in age from their late 50s up, were beginning
to pass away without their memories being recorded. (La Lone 2001: 403)
La Lone set up a university-community partnership, which, once established as a

foundation for the project, began working to create a Coal Mining Heritage Park,
to
commemorate mining heritage as a community focal point in the landscape.
A lot of cultural heritage work is generated by development and the legislative
requirement, in many countries, to ascertain whether important cultural artefacts
or landscapes will be disturbed or destroyed by the physical rearrangement that
development entails. Philip Moores work as a heritage consultant is typical in
this
regard: I worked intensively as a consultant between 1987 and 1991 and
sporadically
since then. My work was done primarily, though not exclusively, for mining
companies seeking to meet their obligations regarding Aboriginal heritage so
that
resource development projects could proceed (Moore 1999: 230).
Cultural heritage is not just about the past: anthropologists also consider how
people create places and objects that memorialize and try to make sense of the
present.
Thus Sylvia Griders research examines the difficult process in which people
created
public memorials while trying to make sense of the shootings at Columbine High
School in 1999 (Grider 2007), and Peter Margry and Cristina Sanchez-Carretero
have observed how spontaneous shrines have become increasingly important as
a
way of dealing with tragic events:
The tragic death of Diana, Princess of Wales in 1997 firmly placed improvised
memorial sites or spontaneous shrines as a phenomenon on the world map. In
the collective emotional outpouring that followed, memorial sites were erected
all over the world with flowers, candles, letters, drawings, messages, stuffed
animals and toys . . . Similar behaviour was displayed in reaction to the untimely
death of other beloved public personalities for example Elvis Presley in 1977
and Olof Palme in 1986 . . . however it was not until after Princess Dianas
death that public memorialisation of death found an elaborate format with an
enduring ritual form and symbolic repertoire . . . Such memorials therefore make
ideal subjects for case studies of how national (and international) memory is
constructed. (Margry and Sanchez-Carretero 2007: 1)
FILM AND PHOTOGRAPHY
Many kinds of representational activity involve the use of film and photography
and,
as with museums and other mechanisms through which identity is
communicated,
much depends on who controls the process, and whether it involves a freely
chosen
self-representation, or one decided by someone else. The colonial era produced a
number of visions of indigenous or tribal communities that supported
evolutionary
ideas about primitive, savage and exotic others, and upheld highly disparate
power
relations. This is still an issue: Elizabeth Edwards (1996) research on postcards
from
around the world shows that many of these ideas persist in current portrayals of
indigenous or ethnic minorities. And David Turtons (2004) work throws up similar
issues in examining tourist photographs of the Mursi people, who wear large
lipplates
which tourists find fascinating and of course highly photogenic.
The kinds of issues that surround photography are equally relevant in relation
to film. Ethnographic film is a major tool for communicating knowledge about
cultures, and debates about the ethics of portraying host communities have
paralleled
those that have been taking place in museums, with increasing involvement and
control by the people being represented. Some communities, such as the Kayapo
in
South America, have been highly active in taking charge of and making use of
video
and film to create their own self-representations (Turner 1992), or collaborating
with anthropologists in this endeavour. Aboriginal scholars such as Marcia
Langton
(1993: 10) have argued that one of the important interventions is the act of
selfrepresentation
itself and the power of aesthetic and intellectual statements.
The portrayal of different cultural groups in popular film and media is also an
important area of study for anthropologists, providing useful data on ideas about
race, identity and the other. Pat Caplan recently turned an analytic eye on the
ways
that others are represented in TV series such as Tribe and its imitators, in
which
television presenters go to live with tribal peoples (albeit for just a few weeks)
and
present this as anthropology (Caplan 2005).
Who is in charge of the representational process remains important: consider,
for example, some of the images of indigenous people in films such as Walkabout
(1971), Crocodile Dundee (1986), or The Gods Must be Crazy (1980), and more
recent portrayals, such as The Rabbit Proof Fence (2002) or Ten Canoes (2006),
which
either involved or (in the latter case) were wholly produced by Aboriginal people
themselves.
Whatever its potential to provide stereotypical visions of cultural identity, as Jun
Xing and Lane Hirabayashi (2003) point out, film remains a powerful educational
tool that can foster cross-cultural communications, as can all of the
representational
forms described here. In broader terms, Thomas Hylland Eriksen (2006) is
convinced
that anthropologists need to engage proactively with all media. Certainly there is
a
lot of good (and interesting) work to be done in this arena.
GOING TO THE MOVIES

Richard Chalfen
Center on Media and Child Health, Childrens Hospital/Harvard
Medical School,
Boston
What do we know about the beginnings of human life? What did people do with their
time on an everyday
basis? These were the questions that led me to become an undergraduate major in
anthropology at the
University of Pennsylvania. A college friend pointed me in the direction of those
National Geographic pictures
depicting daily Paleolithic life a little like what one can now see in feature films such
as Quest for Fire and
Clan of the Cave Bear, 10,000 B.C. and even cartoons such as The Flintstones. Where
do these images come
from? How do we know anything about these conditions, or is it all pure fiction?
Before long, curiosity about variations in contemporary life took over. I realized that
social and cultural
anthropology had become more central to my interests than biological questions. I
recall several documentary
films about the lives of people living in distant and exotic parts of the world. As
fascinating as these portraits
were, I became sceptical: why should I believe what I was seeing in these films about
these other ways of
life? Was I just going to the movies or was this different? Issues about pictures and
pictorial representation
in general remained with me: I needed to know more about who made these films
and how they were made.
Then I discovered the existence of something called visual anthropology, and the
possibility of combining
anthropology and filmmaking skills. In short, more school was necessary.
Graduating as both an anthropology major and a pre-med student initially offered a
frustrating choice.
I came from a medical family with both my father and brother graduating from the
same medical school. I
thought maybe I should do the same thing. Instead I signed up for a graduate degree
in anthropology at Tulane
University and, later, for studies in film and visual communication, again at the
University of Pennsylvania.
At Penns Annenberg School, one of my professors needed a cultural anthropologist
because he had a research
grant from the National Science Foundation for fieldwork that gave cameras to
Navajo people. He intended to
ask them to make 16 mm films about their own lives. So, during the summer of 1966,
I became a research
assistant for a project, Through Navajo Eyes (Worth and Adair 1997). This yielded a
kind of excitement that

has lasted for over 40 years.
As a recent graduate, following my experience with the Navajo, I approached the
Pennsylvania Hospital and
the Philadelphia Child Guidance Clinic with a proposal to make 16 mm films with local
teenagers. Seeking an
integration of urban anthropology and visual anthropology, and with methods, results
and new questions from
the Navajo Project, I wanted to demonstrate that one did not need to travel 2,000
miles and work with an
indigenous group to record cultural differences in films. My colleagues and I theorized
that, as a multicultural
society, Philadelphia contained many different ways of seeing the same
surroundings. My intention was to
demonstrate that if filmmaking was introduced in a neutral manner (at least in
theory), the technology could
be sensitive enough to record this diversity. I asked how different groups of teenagers
saw themselves and
understood their own lives, living within an urban environment. For instance, how
might ethnicity, social class
and gender influence their filmmaking? In this way I began to research the
relationships among socio-cultural
variables and patterns of visual communication.
As a consultant at the clinic, I was able to develop the concept of socio-documentary
filmmaking with
culturally diverse groups of adolescents. The first project was with a group of AfricanAmerican girls, former
gang members (the Dedicated Soul Sisters) who had been identified as potential
teenage mothers. When the
film they created was presented to clinic personnel, the psychologists, psychiatrists
and social workers were
delighted that they could get to know their client populations in new and significant
ways. The films offered
them what they felt was a transparent window on life view of their ethnically diverse
patrons. In this way,
clinic staff appropriated my academically driven efforts to their own needs relating to
the practical matters of
a child guidance clinic, and I was thrown into doing applied visual anthropology.
In 1995 I went to work with Michael Rich, a medical practitioner in Boston who had
introduced VIA (Video
Intervention/Prevention Assessment), a research method in which children and
adolescents with chronic medical
conditions are given the opportunity to create video diaries, and asked to teach your
clinicians what it means
to live with your condition. The narratives address their experience of illness, health
and health care, and
are used to improve both in-take clinical procedures (especially questionnaires) and
several phases of medical
education, both of which are aimed at improving patient care.
My research has remained focused on the relationships between medical, visual and
applied anthropology,
and this has satisfied several long-term interests. Early questions about anthropology
and film communication
find a comfortable home next to medical concerns and a need to contribute new
knowledge to the problems
of being human. In a world that seems to be increasingly visual, new

understandings and applications of how
people look at something, how they see and understand the world and, in turn, how
they communicate that
information to others through visual technology take on a parallel significance.
Combining forms of photography
and videography with anthropology for use in applied contexts has proven to be
fascinating and challenging
work in a field that is still in its infancy.
CONCLUSION
APPLYING ANTHROPOLOGY
In this text, I have simply tried to give a brief overview of the kinds of things that
anthropologists do in some of the main areas of human social and cultural
activity.
However, with a theoretical and methodological toolkit that enables researchers
to
understand and articulate social behaviour, there is really no area of human life
in
which anthropology cannot be applied, and it is potentially useful in any and all
of
them.
THE POTENTIAL SEEMS VIRTUALLY LIMITLESS

Robert Trotter
Northern Arizona University
From my perspective, there are people applying good anthropological theory and
methods in almost all areas.
I am doing both medical anthropology and corporate anthropology, but have engaged
in other major areas
in the past (such as education, migration, traditional healing). The potential seems
virtually limitless. Lots of
fun things are being done; more are available every day. My ex-students are running
their own businesses,
working for both federal and state government, working for or heading up non-profit
organizations ranging
from small groups and small focuses to international groups and international causes,
and also working for
corporations as anthropologists.
In the examples that I have given about what anthropologists do, I have
deliberately
not drawn a distinction (which I think is a false one) between anthropologists
located in universities, those who are employed by other institutions, or those
who freelance as consultants or advisors. In reality, all of us apply anthropology
in a variety of ways: those of us in university posts because we generally
conduct
research directly with communities often do research that can readily be
described
as applied, and even the most abstract theorizations filter into policy and
practice.
Anthropologists working as consultants or employed by other kinds of institutions

also have a contribution to make to theoretical developments in the discipline,
and
to the ethnographic canon.
INTERDISCIPLINARY ANTHROPOLOGY
A discussion about interdisciplinarity is really beyond the scope of this book, but
it
is worth saying a few things about it. Anthropologists often find themselves
working
in collaboration with people from other scientific disciplines: not just within the
social sciences, but increasingly with the natural sciences too: in the
environmental
arena with botanists, biologists, ecologists, hydrologists and climatologists; in
areas
of governance with political scientists and economists; in education and health
with sociologists and psychologists; in the health field with medical specialists; in
urban planning and housing with architects and engineers; in museums and
other
representational spaces with art historians and archaeologists; in the legal arena
with
lawyers. The list could go on, with a fairly infinite diversity of possible disciplinary
combinations.
Collaborative research is a challenging undertaking, especially in conjunction
with natural science disciplines, whose conceptual approaches are much more
specialized
than the broader frame offered by anthropological theory. Like any relationship
between very different parties, it takes some effort to achieve a good balance
(see
Strang 2007). However, interdisciplinary projects can also be immensely creative
and rewarding, leading to new and imaginative solutions to complex problems.
Some people feel that interdisciplinarity is the shape of things to come. With
larger,
more complex issues they say, such as environmental degradation and
globalization,
we need to bring a range of analytic approaches to bear in order to get
anywhere. In
I have been doing applied anthropology for 30 years. I have had a wonderful time
and plan on continuing
to do so, since I get to work with outstanding people in many different fields, and get
to work cross-culturally
on many different projects.
c o n c l u s i o n 159
response to this trend, funding agencies are encouraging collaborative
approaches,
and pushing the natural and social sciences to work together.
Anthropologists have an advantage when it comes to engaging with other
disciplines:
their training in cultural translation means that they are well prepared to
learn the inside perspective of other disciplinary languages and ways of
thinking.
This not only makes them good collaborators, it can also make them good
mediators
between disparate groups in an interdisciplinary project. Intellectually,

anthropology
offers several major contributions to interdisciplinary research. A holistic lets
see the whole picture theoretical approach can provide a helpful frame for more
specialized disciplinary models. Anthropology also provides useful
ethnographically
grounded insights into the complexities of the local context in which the work is
taking place, illuminating the people side of the equation and revealing the
social
and cultural issues that drive human behaviour. For example, in my own work
with
UNESCO I work mainly with ecologists and hydrologists who chart the physical
effects of human activities on river systems. Part of the task of the social
scientists in
the programme is to consider what drives these activities in social and cultural
terms.
In reality, it has been equally important for us to develop conceptual frameworks
that everyone can engage with, and to do a lot of cross-cultural translation (and
sometimes conflict resolution) between the various disciplines.
TRANSFERRING ANTHROPOLOGY
Not everyone who trains in anthropology goes on to employment as an
anthropologist.
Some use it as a strong foundation for further training; others simply carry
their anthropological skills into different areas of work. One of the beauties of the
discipline is that it provides forms of expertise that are eminently transferable to
other career paths. The most obvious directions are the people oriented careers,
such as social work, human resources, counselling, conflict resolution, mediation,
education, charity/NGO work, diplomacy, government, conservation, tourism,
legal work . . . Anthropological skills even come in useful for politicians, for
example
Mo Mowlam studied anthropology at Durham University before rising to a senior
position as New Labours Northern Ireland Secretary. She was
. . . a refreshingly different politician who gave New Labour a lot of its original
zing. She helped to modernize her party and to beat a new path towards peace in
Northern Ireland. Much of this stemmed from her personality, but the breadth
of her political understanding and her effectiveness in handling people and
communities demonstrate the continued value of training in anthropology for
policy makers and politicians. (Bilsborough 2005: 28)
There are many less obvious avenues opened up by training in anthropology too,
such as employment in social science publishing, science writing, and journalism.
Marcus Helbling, for instance, found it easy to make use of his anthropological
training in becoming a sports journalist:
Ive never worked as an anthropologist: I started working as a sports journalist
during my studies. But Ive always tried to find anthropological issues in sports.
I just got the chance to start working as a print journalist for a newspaper. Today
I work as a TV-journalist for Swiss television. Most anthropologists are open
minded, with sensitivity and interest for the other. They have the advantage of
being scientists with a broad approach and research methods in anthropology
can often be used in journalism as well. (personal communication, 2006)
Robert Morais put his anthropological career to one side for quarter of a century
before finding it irresistible to start analysing and writing about the meetings in
which he participated (see Chapter 6):
In 1981, I left academic anthropology and became an advertising executive . . .

In mid-2006, I joined a marketing research and consulting firm. After a
quarter of a century of work in the field, this is my first report . . . Based upon
participation in thousands of creative meetings between 1981 and 2006 while
employed at large and mid-sized American advertising agencies [it] aligns closely
to what Sherry . . . terms observant participation and to Kempers assertion that
advertising executives are ethnographers in the strict sense of the word. (Morais
2007: 150)
In reality, an ability to analyse situations critically, and understand how groups

and organizations work is a major advantage in any career, even those that dont
focus directly on people issues.
RITES OF PASSAGE
Miranda Irving
School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of

London
After successfully completing a first degree in anthropology I was lucky enough to go

on to do some postgraduate
research in Palembang, Sumatra. Fieldwork was fun, challenging, emotionally intense,
stimulating, gruelling and
inspiring all at once. It was a true rite of passage. The plan was to go on to work in
social research, preferably
abroad. At the time, however, I found that I couldnt continue on to complete a Ph.D.
Nevertheless, the experience of learning and doing anthropology gave me a
particular perspective, which I
carried into other areas of work. For example, soon after my postgraduate research, I
found work as a temporary
secretary for several months. My longest assignment was in a government typing
pool in Bedford. The typing
pool was a great example of culture in the workplace. As I sat at my desk, in a room
with rows of other
typists, tapping away at the typewriter keys, I observed the group of which I had
become a temporary part.
The pool was just like a society in microcosm: it had its own rituals, behavioural
codes, hierarchies, divisions
and conflicts. Though my observations added little to my work, being part-participant
and part-observer of this
mini society livened up what was otherwise an extremely boring job.
At other times, my anthropological background has been more directly useful.
Several years on, I was
employed as a research assistant on a community care project, commissioned by a
local community council
in Sussex. The job involved straightforward fieldwork: participant observation and
face-to-face interviewing of
elderly people and members of their support network to ascertain their perceptions
of the provision of care.
I travelled to three idyllic villages, attended day care centres, sat in on community
functions and went into
peoples homes. The elderly people I interviewed were so unique, each one with their
own particular strategies
for staying healthy, connected, useful and safe. Lots of cups of tea were consumed,
and interviews which
should have taken only an hour went on for much longer as we fell into deep
conversation.
On a personal level I found it intriguing how each person had built up networks of
support to ensure they
were cared for, and it was a lesson for my own future old age.
But there was also a more practical side to the research. I spent another month
writing up a report for
the community council, and along with my supervisor, made some policy
recommendations on the basis of
our findings and analysis. The report was published by the community council and
distributed nationally and
internationally. As a voice of the people on the ground, anthropology can have a
valid and important role in
the implementation of policy, and I like to think that my report played some part in
this.
Fate then took me to Oman. I was there as an expatriate wife, but soon made
contacts and landed a job
as a consultant sociologist with a major engineering consultancy. They were
undertaking an irrigation project
in the rural areas of the country, and needed input from a social scientist. At first I
was asked to help design
a farm survey. They wanted to develop a broad questionnaire, which would be taken
to all the farmers in
the area. The aim was to get a general idea of the social and familial structures
within the region, and how
these relate to both farming practices and the very complex existing irrigation
systems known as falaj. On
the strength of this work, I was put forward for a couple of other projects: one,
looking at traditional fishing
practices along the coast, and another assessing the viability of placing dams in a
remote and mountainous
part of the country.
Since that time I have moved countless times. As a trailing spouse, always on the
move, I have not been able
to pursue a coherent career let alone find jobs in social research. This does not mean
that my anthropological
skills and experience have gone to waste though. For me, anthropology is a way of
viewing life and you bring
this with you, whatever you do. Anthropology helps us to understand ourselves and
our interactions with others
from within a broader framework. It leads us to comprehend another point of view,
see the many sides of an
argument and never assume that ideas, or ways of being, are fixed. It reveals the
richness of life and enables
an acceptance of diversity.
When I returned to the UK I decided to take a more journalistic path. My background
in anthropology was
extremely useful in this too, not only in terms of researching and interviewing
techniques, but in having note
taking, observation and general analytical abilities too. And finally, twenty-three
years on, I have managed to
return to university get on with finishing that Ph.D.
WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE BECOME

ANTHROPOLOGISTS?
As suggested by the range of examples in this book, anthropology is a rather

multicultural
and diverse profession, and rapidly becoming more so. The discipline
originally grew out of exchanges between European scholars and a vast range of
host communities, but there are now professional anthropologists in all nations
and in many sub-cultural groups, and a number of indigenous anthropologists.
The
diversity of what anthropologists do means that the discipline attracts people
with
equally diverse cultural backgrounds, interests, beliefs, ideologies and aims.
However, it is possible to say a few things about what anthropologists have in
common. More than anything, I think they share a burning curiosity to
understand
how the world works and why people act in the ways that they do. They want to
see the whole picture so that they can make sense of what is going on. Along
with
this lively intellectual curiosity, they have to be able to gather, manage and
analyse
a lot of data systematically and rigorously, which suggests a need for
considerable
organizational ability and discipline. Even if they work at home, anthropologists
have to be comfortable with change: being in strange places, dealing with
strangers,
embarking on unfamiliar activities, eating different foods, and above all,
engaging in
a non-judgemental way with ideas and beliefs that may be very different from
their
own. Obviously, it helps if they are generally inclined to like people and are good
at
getting along with them!
Although the aim of this text has been to describe what anthropologists do,
and to demonstrate the practical applications of anthropology and the potential
career directions that it offers, Id like to conclude with a comment about why
anthropologists do. Why do people choose to spend their lives doing something
that is plainly pretty demanding? Some motivations have peeped through in the
autobiographies included in the text. There are plainly some pragmatic reasons:
anthropological training gives practitioners a lot of choice in the range of careers
open to them, as well as making them very employable. It is also flexible
something
that can be put to use in just about any context. But there are deeper
motivations
too: for some, anthropology is about understanding and potentially leading social
change. As Kay Milton said: I would advise anyone who wants to change the
world
to go for anthropology. The better we understand ourselves, the better our
chances
of making changes that lead to a better future (see her autobiography in
Chapter
4). So for many of us, doing anthropology is about doing something that makes a
difference: something that helps things along in a positive way.
Being able to feel that ones time is usefully spent, and not wasted on something
pointless is certainly a major bonus. Another major reward is the pleasure of
unravelling the puzzle of human behaviour. To understand what is going on

beyond
the superficial is immensely satisfying. And perhaps above all, anthropology is
exciting:
humans are sufficiently complicated and diverse that there is always more to
learn
and intriguing things to consider. Fieldwork brings a host of new experiences. So
a
career in anthropology is often intellectually and sometimes literally an
adventure: a
journey to interesting ideas, people and places.
APPENDIX 1
STUDYING
ANTHROPOLOGY
In most educational systems there are three major levels of study in
anthropology:
undergraduate degrees, masters degrees, and doctorate degrees. At an
undergraduate
level anthropology can be readily combined with sister subjects like
archaeology,
history, political science, sociology, human geography, and potentially with other
areas, such as development studies, environmental studies, education,
psychology,
business management, architecture and urban planning. Many undergraduate
courses also have an honours year, which leads students towards research and
further
study.
It is sometimes possible to shift across to anthropology from other disciplines at
a masters level, by doing an intensive taught course, possibly followed by a
second
year focused on research.
An honours undergraduate degree, or a masters in anthropology are both useful
qualifications for carrying anthropological skills into a variety of careers. With
either
one of these it is also feasible to consider doing the doctoral research that is the
major
qualification for practising as a professional anthropologist. When students reach
this stage, they usually look for a university department that can provide
experienced
supervision in the area that they want to study. Sometimes they make a direct
approach to the person whose research they feel their interests relate to most
closely.
As anthropology is one of the original scholarly disciplines, it is offered in most
good universities. In thinking about where to study, prospective students should
consider whether a university has a well-established anthropology department,

and
whether this is staffed by professional anthropologists who, as well as being
teachers,
are also active researchers.
All of this information is readily available on university web sites, and a quick
search will find lists of universities in each country, and their contact details.
Most
are also happy to send prospective students further information, and many hold
open days and career days at which it is possible to meet and talk to staff.
University
a p p e n d i c e s 165
web sites also list the people who are specifically responsible for student
applications
at each level of study.
Prospective students might also want to visit the web sites of anthropology
associations and the journals that publish anthropological research to get a wider
view of what is going on in the field (see Appendix 3 for a list of these).
APPENDIX 2
SOME SUGGESTIONS
FOR
FURTHER READING
GENERAL TEXTS ABOUT ANTHROPOLOGY
Auge, M. and Colleyn, J. (2006), The World of the Anthropologist, transl. J. Howe, Oxford:
Berg.
Coleman, S. and Simpson, B. (eds) (1998), Discovering Anthropology: A Resource Guide
for
Teachers and Students, London: Royal Anthropological Institute.
Ember, C., Ember M. and Peregrine, P. (2005), Anthropology, Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Pearson, Prentice-Hall.
Eriksen, T. (2001), Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural
Anthropology, Sterling, VA: Pluto Press.
Eriksen, T. (2004), What is Anthropology?, Oxford: Berg.
Haviland, W. (2000), Anthropology, Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt College Publishers.
Haviland, W., Gordon, R. and Vivanco, L. (eds) (2006), Talking about People: Readings in
Contemporary Cultural Anthropology, Boston: McGraw-Hill.
Hendry, J. (1999), An Introduction to Social Anthropology: Other Peoples Worlds.
Basingstoke:
Palgrave-Macmillan.
MacClancy, J. (ed.) (2002), Exotic No More: Anthropology on the Front Lines, Chicago:
Chicago University Press.
Metcalf, P. (2005), Anthropology: the Basics, New York: Routledge.
Peacock, J. (1986) The Anthropological Lens: Harsh Light, Soft Focus, Cambridge:
Cambridge
University Press.
Toussaint, S. and Taylor, J. (eds) (1999), Applied Anthropology in Australasia, Nedlands:

University of Western Australia Press.
GENERAL TEXTS ABOUT CAREERS IN ANTHROPOLOGY
Camenson, B. (2000), Great Jobs for Anthropology Majors, Lincolnwood, IL: VGM Career
Horizons.
Ervin, A. (2005), Applied Anthropology: Tools and Perspectives for Contemporary Practice,
Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Ferraro, G. (1998), Applying Cultural Anthropology: Readings, Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
Gwynne, M. (2003a), Applied Anthropology: A Career-oriented Approach, Boston: Pearson
Education Inc.
Gwynne, M. (2003b), Anthropology: Career Resources Handbook, New York, London:
Pearson
Education.
Kedia, S. and Van Willigen, J. (2005), Applied Anthropology: Domains of Application,
Westport, CT: Praeger.
McDonald, J. (2002), The Applied Anthropology Reader, Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
Morris, B. and Bastin, R. (2004), Expert Knowledge: First World Peoples, Consultancy, and
Anthropology, New York: Berghahn Books.
National Association for the Practice of Anthropology (2001), Careers in Anthropology:
Profiles of Practitioners, National Association for the Practice of Anthropology Bulletin, 20,
www.anthrosource.net.
Nolan, R. (2003), Anthropology in Practice: Building a Career Outside the Academy,
Boulder,
CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers.
Omohundro, J. (2000), Careers in Anthropology, London: McGraw-Hill Humanities.
Pink, S. (2006), Applications of Anthropology: Professional Anthropology in the Twentyfirst
Century, London: Berghahn Books.
Podolefsky, A. and Brown, P. (eds) (2003), Applying Anthropology: An Introductory Reader,
7th edn, Boston: McGraw-Hill.
Sabloff, P. (2000), Careers in Anthropology: Profiles of Practitioner Anthropologists, NAPA
Bulletin 20, Washington, DC: American Anthropological Association.
Society for Applied Anthropology (1949) Human Organization: Journal of the Society for
Applied Anthropology, Washington, DC: Society for Applied Anthropology.
Society for Applied Anthropology (1978), Practising Anthropology, Oklahoma City: Society
for Applied Anthropology.
Stephens, R. (2002), Careers in Anthropology: What an Anthropology Degree can Do for
You,
Sunderland, P. and Denny, R. (2008), Doing Anthropology in Consumer Research, Oxford:
Berg.
ETHNOGRAPHIC METHODS
Agar, M. (1996), The Professional Stranger: An Informal Introduction to Ethnography, 2nd

edn,
New York: Academic Press.
Pawluch, D., Shaffir, W. and Miall, C. (eds) (2005), Doing Ethnography: Studying Everyday
Life, Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press.
168 a p p e n d i c e s
ANTHROPOLOGY AND ADVOCACY
Attwood, B. and Markus, A. (1999), The Struggle for Aboriginal Rights: A Documentary
History, St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin.
Cowan, J., Dembour, M.-B., Wilson, R. (2001), Culture and Rights: Anthropological
Perspectives, New York: Cambridge University Press.
Howard, B. (2003), Indigenous Peoples and the State: The Struggle for Native Rights,
DeKalb,
IL: Northern Illinois University Press.
Nagengast, C. and Vlez-Ibez, C. (2004), Human Rights: The Scholar as Activist,

Oklahoma
City: Society for Applied Anthropology.
Nash, J. (ed.) (2005), Social Movements: An Anthropological Reader, Malden, MA:
Blackwell.
Paine, R. (ed.) (1985), Advocacy and Anthropology, St John's Newfoundland: Institute of
Social and Economic Research.
Rodrguez-Piero, L. (2005), Indigenous Peoples, Postcolonialism, and International Law:
The
ILO Regime, 19191989, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Rumsey, A. and Weiner, J. (eds) (2001), Mining and Indigenous Lifeworlds in Australia and
Papua New Guinea, Hindmarsh, South Australia: Crawford House Publishing.
Sillitoe, P., Bicker, A. and Pottier, J. (eds) (2002), Participating in Development:
Approaches to
Indigenous Knowledge, London: Routledge.
Toussaint, S. (ed.) (2004), Crossing Boundaries: Cultural, Legal, Historical and Practice
Issues
in Native Title, Carlton, Victoria: Melbourne University Press.
Walker, R. (2004), Ka whawhai tonu matou: Struggle without End, London: Penguin.
Wolfe, A. and Yang, H. (eds) (1996), Anthropological Contributions to Conflict Resolution,
Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND AID
Atlani-Dualt, L. (2007), Humanitarian Aid in Post-Soviet Countries: An Anthropological

Perspective, London: Routledge.
Corsin-Jimenez, A. (ed.) (2007), The Anthropology of Organisations, London: Ashgate.
De Mars, W. (2005), NGOs and Transnational Networks: Wild Cards in World Politics, Ann
Arbor, MI: Pluto Press.
Mosse, D. (2005), Cultivating Development: An Ethnography of Aid Policy and Practice,
London: Pluto Press.
Mosse, D. and Lewis, D. (eds) (2005), The Aid Effect: Giving and Governing in
International
Development, London: Pluto.
Munger, F. (2002), Laboring Below the Line: The New Ethnography of Poverty, Low-wage
Work,
and Survival in the Global Economy, New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND DEVELOPMENT
Arce, A. and Long, N. (eds) (1999), Anthropology, Development, and Modernities:

Exploring
Discourses, Counter-tendencies, and Violence, London: Routledge.
Bicker, A., Sillitoe, P. and Pottier, J. (eds) (2004), Development and Local Knowledge: New
Approaches to Issues in Natural Resources Management, Conservation and Agriculture,
London: Routledge.
Carrier, J. (2004), Confronting Environments: Local Understanding in a Globalizing World,
Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira Press.
Cohen, J. (ed.) (2002), Economic Development: An Anthropological Approach, Walnut
Creek,
CA: Altamira Press.
Edelman, M. and Haugerud, A. (eds) (2005), The Anthropology of Development and
Globalization: From Classical Political Economy to Contemporary Neoliberalism, Malden,
MA, Oxford: Blackwell.
Eriksen, T. (2003), Globalisation: Studies in Anthropology, London: Pluto Press.
Escobar, A. (1995), Encountering Development: the Making and Unmaking of the Third
World,
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Hobart, M. (ed.) (1993), An Anthropological Critique of Development: The Growth of
Ignorance,
London: Routledge.
Khagram, S. (2004), Dams and Development: Transnational Struggles for Water and
Power,
Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
Nolan, R. (2002), Development Anthropology: Encounters in the Real World, Boulder, CO:
Westview Press.
Olivier de Sardan, J.-P. (2005), Anthropology and Development: Understanding
Contemporary
Social Change, New York: Zed Books.
Reid, D. (2003), Tourism, Globalization and Development, London: Pluto Press.
Robinson-Pant, A. 2004. Women, Literacy, and Development: Alternative Perspectives,
New
York: Routledge.
Approaches to
ANTHROPOLOGY AND THE ENVIRONMENT
Anderson, D. and Berglund, E. (eds) (2003), Ethnographies of Conservation:

Environmentalism
and the Distribution of Privilege, New York: Berghahn Books.
Berglund, E. (1998), Knowing Nature, Knowing Science: An Ethnography of Environmental
Activism, Knapwell: The White Horse Press.
Descola, P. and Palsson, G. (eds) (1996), Nature and Society: Anthropological
Perspectives,
London: Routledge.
Diamond, J. (2005), Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed, New York: Penguin.
Dominy, M. (2001), Calling the Station Home: Place and Identity in New Zealands High
Country, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.
Feld, S. and K. Basso (eds) (1996), Senses of Place, Santa Fe, NM: School of American
Research Press.
Haenn, N. and Wilk, R. (2006), The Environment in Anthropology: A Reader in Ecology,
Culture and Sustainable Living, New York: New York University Press.
Harrison, G. and Morphy, H. (1998), Human Adaptation, Oxford: Berg.

Howes, D. (2005), Empire of the Senses: A Sensual Culture Reader, Oxford: Berg.
Milton, K. (ed.) (1993), Environmentalism: The View from Anthropology, London:
Routledge.
Milton, K. (2002), Loving Nature: Towards an Ecology of Emotion, London: Routledge.
Milton, K and Svasek M. (eds) (2005), Mixed Emotions: Anthropological Studies of Feeling,
Oxford: Berg.
Serpell, J. (1996), In the Company of Animals: A Study of Human-animal Relationships,
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Strang, V. (1997), Uncommon Ground: Cultural Landscapes and Environmental Values,
Oxford: Berg.
Yearley, S. (2005), Cultures of Environmentalism: Empirical Studies in Environmental
Sociology,
New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND GOVERNANCE
Gledhill, J. (2000), Power and its Disguises: Anthropological Perspectives on Politics,

London,
Sterling, VA: Pluto Press.
Gupta, A. and Sharma, A. (2006), The Anthropology of the State: A Reader, Malden, MA:
Blackwell.
Haller, D. and Shore, C. (2005), Corruption: Anthropological Perspectives, London, Ann
Richard, M. and Emener, W. (2003), Im a People Person: A Guide to Human Service
Professions, Springfield, IL: C. C. Thomas.
Shore, C. (2000), Building Europe: The Cultural Politics of European Integration, London:
Routledge.
Shore, C. and Nugent, S. (2002), Elite Cultures: Anthropological Perspectives, London,
New
York: Routledge.
Shore, C. and Wright, S. (eds) (1997), Anthropology of Policy: Critical Perspectives on
Governance and Power, London: Routledge.
Wright, S. (ed.) (1994), Anthropology of Organisations, London, New York: Routledge.
ANTHROPOLOGY, BUSINESS AND INDUSTRY
Ferraro, G. (2006), The Cultural Dimension of International Business, Upper Saddle River,
NJ:
Prentice Hall.
Fisher, M. S. and Downey, G. (eds) (2006), Frontiers of Capital: Ethnographic Reflections
on
the New Economy, Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Malefyt, T. and Moeran, B. (eds) (2003), Advertising Cultures, Oxford: Berg.
Mariampolski, H. (2006), Ethnography for Marketers: A Guide to Consumer Immersion,
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Nixon, S. (2003), Advertising Cultures: Gender, Commerce, Creativity, London: Sage.
Squires, S and Byrne, B. (eds) (2002), Creating Breakthrough Ideas: The Collaboration of
Anthropologists and Designers in the Product Development Industry, Westport, CT: Bergin
& Garvey.
Stewart, P. and Strathern, A. (eds) (2005), Anthropology and Consultancy: Issues and
Debates,
New York: Berghahn Books.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND HEALTH
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Joralemon, D. (1999), Exploring Medical Anthropology, Boston: Allyn & Bacon.
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London: Sage Publications.
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ANTHROPOLOGY, ART AND IDENTITY
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Museum
Magic, New York: Berghahn Books.
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University of New York Press.
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APPENDIX 3
OTHER RESOURCES
ANTHROPOLOGY ASSOCIATIONS AND NETWORKS
American Anthropological Association (AAA)

http://www.aaanet.org/
Anthropology Matters Postgraduate Network
http://www.anthropologymatters.com/
Association of Social Anthropologists of Aotearoa/New Zealand (ASAANZ)
http://asaanz.rsnz.org/
Association of Social Anthropologists of the UK and the Commonwealth (ASA)
http://www.theasa.org/
Australian Anthropological Society
http://www.aas.asn.au/
Bureau of Applied Research in Anthropology (BARA)
http://barabeta.bara.arizona.edu/instruction/
Canadian Anthropological Society (CASCA)
http://www.cas-sca.ca/
C-SAP (Birmingham)
http://www.c-sap.bham.ac.uk
(The Higher Education Academy Subject Network for Sociology, Anthropology,
Politics)
http://www.c-sap.bham.ac.uk/
European Association of Social Anthropologists
http://www.easaonline.org/
Network of Applied Anthropologists UK
http://www.theasa.org/networks/apply.htm
Political Ecology Society (PESO)
http://jpe.library.arizona.edu/eco~1.htm
Royal Anthropological Institute
http://www.therai.org.uk/
Society for Applied Anthropology, USA
http://www.sfaa.net/
Wenner-Gren Foundation
http://www.wennergren.org/
World Council of Anthropological Associations
http://www.wcaanet.org/
ANTHROPOLOGY JOURNALS
American Anthropologist
http://www.aaanet.org/publications/ameranthro.cfm
Anthropology in Action
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Anthropology Matters Journal
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Anthropology Today
http://www.therai.org.uk/pubs/at/anthrotoday.html
Cultural Anthropology (Journal of the Society for Cultural Anthropology)
http://www.culanth.org
Current Anthropology
http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/toc/ca/current
Human Organization (Journal of the Society for Applied Anthropology)
http://www.sfaa.net/ho/
Irish Journal of Anthropology
http://www.anthropologyireland.org/ijajournal1.htm
Journal of Anthropological Research
http://www.unm.edu/~jar/
Journal of Political Ecology
http://jpe.library.arizona.edu/
Oceania
http://www.arts.usyd.edu.au/publications/oceania/oceania1.htm
Practicing Anthropology
http://www.sfaa.net/pa/pa.html
Sites: A Journal of Social Anthropology and Cultural Studies
http://asaanz.rsnz.org/
The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology
http://rspas.anu.edu.au/anthropology/tapja/
The Australian Journal of Anthropology
http://www.aas.asn.au/aas_taja.php
VIRTUAL LIBRARIES IN ANTHROPOLOGY

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http://vlib.anthrotech.com/
GLOSSARY
Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR), mediated conflict resolution

framework,
presented as an alternative to adversarial legal methods.
cosmology, cosmological beliefs, a particular groups or societys vision of
how the
world works, which may be religious and/or secular.
counter-mapping, the creation of culturally specific maps that present an
alternative
to dominant representations of landscape.
cultural landscape, a physical and ideational landscape formed by specific
cultural
beliefs, values and practices.
cultural mapping, a process of collecting data on a specific cultural landscape,
sometimes linked with counter-mapping.
cultural translation, a role often carried out by anthropologists, which entails
interpreting the realities of a particular cultural group to others (and possibly vice
versa).
diaspora, a cultural, religious or ethnic community dispersed internationally.
discourse, a specific, culturally and historically produced way of describing the
world.
discourse analysis, the process of analysing and revealing the ideas and
values
embedded in particular discourses.
empirical, based on evidence: experience or experiment.
epidemiology, the scientific study of epidemics.
epistemology, the science of knowledge.
ethnobotany, ethnobiology, ethnoscience, local (often indigenous) forms of
knowledge relating to flora and fauna, and to the material environment. Can be
subsumed under the broader term, traditional ecological knowledge.
g l o s s a r y 177
ethnography, an in-depth, holistic account of a particular group or community.
globalization, the transformation of local or regional phenomena to a global
scale;
an idea of a unified global society and economy.
governance, the control and direction of a society or group.
hypothesis, a theory to be proved or disproved by reference to evidence, a
provisional
explanation.
lexicon, dictionary.
life course analysis, an ethnographic method that involves examining peoples
life
histories within a particular context.
NGO-graphy, the study of non-governmental organisations and their activities.
orthography, a word list recording an oral language, and applying linguistic
expertise
in ensuring consistent spelling and pronunciation.

participant observation, a research method that entails participating in the
daily
life of the study community, and observing and recording events.
participatory action research (PAR), collaborative research that assists
communities
in the achievement of their aims.
pedagogy, the science of education, methods of teaching and learning.
political ecology, the study of how social, political and economic factors affect
environmental issues.
positive correlation, a statistical term defining factors that occur
simultaneously,
suggesting a causal relationship between them.
social movements, the spread of ideologies across groups nationally or
internationally,
creating agitation for change.
social organization, the particular system of social relations pertaining in a
society
or cultural group; its forms of descent and inheritance.
spatial relations, the spatial distribution of people in relation to a material
environment and/or landscape in accord with specific cultural norms.
traditional ecological knowledge (TEK), specifically cultural (often
indigenous)
knowledge about local ecosystems (see also ethnobotany, ethnobiology and
ethnoscience).
NOTES
Acknowledgements
1. In order of appearance in the text these are: Markus Weilenmann, Marzia Balzani, Mary-Ellen
Chatwin, Yongjun Zhao, Ruth Dearnley, Scarlett Epstein, Ted Green, Paul Sillitoe, Kay Milton,
Danny Dybowski, Saffron James, Cris Shore, Stuart Kirsch, Ralph Bishop, Patricia Sachs, Patricia
Hammer, Sherylyn Briller, Nancy Pollock, Rachael Gooberman-Hill, Richard Chenhall, Marion
Droz-Mendelzweig, Jonathan Skinner, Richard Chalfen, Robert Trotter, Miranda Irving.
Introduction
1. Shore (1996) and MacClancy (2005) have written about how anthropology has often been
portrayed
in the media.
2. There are some excellent introductory texts providing more detail on what anthropology is for
example Eriksens What is Anthropology? (2004) and Coleman and Simpsons Discovering
Anthropology
(1998) (see also Hendry 1999, Metcalf 2005, Haviland et al. 2006).
3. In America, for example, archaeologists regard their profession as coming under the larger
umbrella
of anthropology, while in the UK and Europe these are seen as separate (albeit closely related)
disciplinary areas.
4. Anthropology is sometimes regarded as having two major strands: social anthropology and
cultural
anthropology. The differences between these vary from country to country, reflecting the different
trajectories that the discipline has taken over time.
5. Professional anthropology associations have detailed ethical guidelines, and these are regularly
updated to keep pace with changes in the kind of work that practitioners do. Most universities also
have strict research-ethics codes and meeting these is a formal prerequisite for any research
activity.
Professional and institutional codes generally require social researchers to try to ensure that their
work
with communities is mutually beneficial. They provide guidance on issues such as asking permission
to do research, consulting host communities about the design of research projects, maintaining
the confidentiality of data when necessary, and ensuring that the people who provided the data
have access to the research findings. They also cover more complex issues, for example relating to
intellectual property rights. The ethical guidelines of associations are generally available on their
web
sites, some of which are listed in the appendices to this volume.
6. There have been long-running discussions amongst educators about the potential for introducing
students to anthropology at a secondary school level. It has begun to make an appearance in
various
forms, as social studies and so forth, and at the time of writing there are moves, for example in the
UK, to bring it into the curriculum more formally.
n o t e s 179
Chapter 1 Anthropology and Advocacy

1. Ethnobotany, ethnobiology and ethnoscience are all terms describing the localized expertise
accumulated through a groups engagement with a particular environment over many centuries.
These are can be subsumed under the broader heading of traditional ecological knowledge.
2. See his autobiography in Chapter 6.
3. Globalization is the transformation of local or regional phenomena to a global scale; an idea of a
unified global society and economy.
4. Social movements occur when ideologies spread across groups, nationally or internationally,
encouraging pressure for change. Other (loosely related) examples include the feminist movement;
the civil rights movement; the peace movement; and the New Age movement. More recently,
anthropologists have considered the counter-movements opposing globalization, initiated by
indigenous networks and other groups critical of this process.
5. The process of creating culturally specific maps, which often challenge dominant representational
forms, has also been called counter-mapping.
Chapter 2 Anthropology and Aid
1. Obviously government funding comes with some strings attached too, and most funding
agencies
give a clear remit as to the kind of research they will support. However in applying for these kinds of
resources researchers can at least design their own projects and in general they have
considerable
independence in conducting the research.
2. This was renamed as the Department for International Development. It also has formal links with
the United Kingdoms Commonwealth Development Corporation, which has been heavily criticized
recently for its shift away from support for Third World agriculture into other areas of investment,
such as shopping malls and mobile phones, which are more profitable (for the Corporation).
3. Work on such transient communities was pioneered by Judith Okelys work on European gypsies in
the early 1980s (Okely 1983).
4. There are some complex ethical considerations in relation to this issue, as professional codes of
practice preclude spying on communities, or using ethnographic data collected from them to their
detriment. At the same time there are potentially conflicting moral issues raised by the need to
prevent terrorism and harm to other groups. These issues and the propriety of working for national
agencies involved in intelligence gathering have generated considerable debate with the
discipline.
Chapter 3 Anthropology and Development
1. Zenzele translates as do-it-yourself .

2. Darrell Posey died in 2001. He is remembered by many of us as a committed activist, who spent
his
life assisting indigenous peoples in their efforts to preserve and protect their traditional knowledges.
Chapter 4 Anthropology and the Environment
1. Quite apart from being one of the best job titles I have ever had, this is a really useful Fellowship
which the RAI awards every year, to enable anthropologists to do urgently needed research, for
example, recording cultural data that is held only orally, by older generations, or researching in
areas
of pressing social need.
2. The term cosmology is simply a societys understanding of how the world works. This might be
based on religious beliefs, forms of science, or indeed both.
180 n o t e s
3. Traditional is a somewhat disputed term academically but I use it here as indigenous groups
often
do, to indicate the customs, beliefs and knowledges that prevailed prior to colonization.
4. See also Posey and Plenderlieth (2004), Hornborg and Kurkiala (1998).
5. A film was made about Lansings work in 1989 for the United Kingdoms Channel 4 Fragile Earth
series. Directed by Andrew Singer, it is called The Water Goddess and the Computer.
6. Political ecology is the study of how social, political and economic factors affect environmental
issues.
7. Fortun (1999: 240) charted the long-term outcomes for the various groups involved in the Bhopal
disaster of 1984, in which an explosion at a Union Carbide plant in India released pesticides over
the city, killing an estimated 10,000 people and creating long-term physical and economic harm to a
further 600,000.
8. Discourse analysis is the process of analysing and revealing the ideas and values embedded in
particular discourses.
9. See also Strang (1997).
Chapter 6 Anthropology, Business and Industry
1. To some extent this issue runs parallel to the discussion in Chapter 2 about the way that
unelected
NGOs have replaced services and activities that were previously the responsibility of government
bodies.
2. See also Malefyt and Moeran (2003).
Chapter 8 Anthropology, Art and Identity
1. As far back as 1873, E. B. Tylor wrote about indigenous languages and, working with oral cultures,
many early anthropologists painstakingly set down written records of their languages. Bejamin
Whorf s work, Some Verbal Categories of Hopi, published in 1938, typifies these efforts.
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(ed.) Consumption: Critical Concepts in the Social Sciences. Volume IV. Objects, Subjects
and
Mediations in Consumption, London: Routledge, pp. 15977.
Winarto, Y. (1999), Creating Knowledge: Scientific Knowledge and Local Adoption in
Rice-integrated Pest Management (A Case Study from Subang, West Java, Indonesia), in
S. Toussaint and J. Taylor (eds), Applied Anthropology in Australasia, Nedlands, Western
Australia: University of Western Australia Press, pp. 16292.
Wolfe, A. and Yang, H. (eds) (1996), Anthropological Contributions to Conflict Resolution,
Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press.
Worth, S. and Adair, J. (1997 [1972]), Through Navajo Eyes, Albuquerque, NM: University
of New Mexico Press.
Wright, S. (ed.) (1994), Anthropology of Organisations, London: Routledge.
Xing, J. and Hirabayashi, L. (2003), Reversing the Lens: Ethnicity, Race, Gender, and
Sexuality
through Film, Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado.
Yang, H. (1998), Practicing Anthropology in the Carter Presidential Center, in G. Ferraro
Yearley, S. (2005), Cultures of Environmentalism: Empirical Studies in Environmental

Sociology,
New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
FILMS
De Heer, R. (dir.) (2006), Ten Canoes, Palace Films.

Faiman, P. (dir.) (1986), Crocodile Dundee, Paramount Pictures.
Noyce, P. (dir.) (2002), Rabbit Proof Fence, Miramax Films.
Roeg, N. (dir.) 1971. Walkabout, 20th Century Fox.
Singer, A. and Lansing, S. (1989), The Goddess and the Computer, Film. Channel 4 Fragile
Earth Series. London: Royal Anthropological Institute.
Uys, J. (dir.) (1980), The Gods Must Be Crazy, Jensen Farley Pictures.

activism, 11, 213, 25, 77, 132
see also advocacy, participatory action
research (PAR), social justice
advertising, 93, 956, 10810
see also communications media,
consumer behaviour, market research,
representation
advocacy, 917, 226, 90
see also activism, expert witness
ageing, 789, 1224
agriculture and farming, 1416, 478, 624,
67, 161
see also water management
alcohol, see drugs and alcohol
animals, ecology, 63, 70, 98
animal rights, 68
humananimal relations, 60, 6771
anthropology associations, 5, 173
apartheid, see race
architecture and urban planning, 74, 84
art, 74, 138, 1458
body art, 146
dance, 146, 1478, 149
environmental art, 60
indigenous art, 142, 1456
material culture, 2, 74, 138, 146, 1503
performance, 1389, 14550
see also identity, film and photography,
cultural heritage, museums,
representation, tourism
asylum seekers, see refugees
autobiographies
Balzani, Marzia, 235
Bishop, Ralph, 101
Briller, Sherylyn, 1223
Chalfen, Richard, 1556
Chatwin, Mary-Ellen, 30
Chenall, Richard, 1312
Dearnley, Ruth, 40
Droz-Mendelzweig, Marion, 134
Dybowski, Danny, 723
Epstein, Scarlett, 41
Gooberman-Hill, Rachael, 1289
Green, Edward, 423
Hammer, Patricia, 11921
Irving, Miranda, 1601
James, Saffron, 789
Kirsch, Stuart, 979
Milton, Kay, 702

Pollock, Nancy, 1256
Sachs, Patricia, 113
Shore, Cris, 801
Sillitoe, Paul, 446
Skinner, Jonathan, 1478
Strang, Veronica, 5960
Trotter, Robin, 1578
Weilenmann, Marcus 20
Zhao, Yongjun, 39
biodiversity, 21, 47, 501
see also cultural diversity, sustainability
capitalism, 18, 54, 946
see also globalization
ceremonies, see rituals
charities, 35, 159
children
adoption, 87
birth, 11822, 140
see also human reproduction
care, 878, 119, 1212
education, 34, 83, 889, 901
health, 17, 29, 42, 49, 87, 156
citizenship, 54, 88
see also identity, nationalism
classification, 62, 68, 105
INDEX
206 i n d e x
climate change, 58, 656

see also energy use
cognition, 74, 88
see also senses
colonialism, 10, 18, 20, 1468
impacts, 36, 94, 141, 1434, 154
post-colonialism, 94, 142, 145, 151, 153
communications media, 10611, 138, 145,
1556
internet, 36, 53, 1423
newspapers, 106, 107, 144
radio, 102, 1067
television, 1068, 133, 155
see also advertising, film and photography,
museums
conflict, 15, 65, 69, 73, 77, 147
cultural, 84, 138, 1412
land and resources, 19, 50, 53, 56, 60, 64,
70, 72, 13
religious, 9, 25, 356, 137
see also genocide
conflict resolution, 9, 14, 1920, 356, 56,
69, 778, 84, 107, 141
alternative dispute resolution, 1314
mediation, 9, 19, 22, 78, 141, 152, 159
see also cultural translation
conservation, 50, 54, 68, 74, 86, 92
agencies, 201, 512, 63, 701
conservation areas, 20, 21, 45, 51, 72
see also national parks
indigenous expertise, 16, 21, 46, 512

see also environmentalism, management:
land and resources, sustainability
consumer behaviour, 78, 79, 10911, 114
see also advertising, market research
cosmology, 46, 61, 68, 150
see also myths, religion, worldviews
counter-development, 18, 57, 61, 64, 144
see also development, globalization, social
movements
crime, 76, 83, 107, 131, 133
honour crimes, 24
see also drugs
cultural diversity, 50, 61, 69, 110, 137, 139
see also biodiversity, multiculturalism
cultural heritage, 9, 72, 91, 1513
memorials, 1534
see also art, mining heritage, museums,
representation, tourism
cultural landscapes, 734, 152
see also sacred sites
cultural mapping, see methods, sacred sites
cultural models, see disease
cultural translation, cross-cultural
communication, 9, 1213
business and industry, 99, 1035, 111
development, 30, 37, 45, 623
interdisciplinary work, 159
media, 106, 108, 155
medicine, 42, 117, 120, 129
refugees and migrants, 22
see also conflict resolution
dams, see water, management
development, 29, 30, 3743, 489, 523,
63
see also counter-development
discourse, see language
disease, illness, 49, 127, 131, 133
cultural models, 43, 867, 117, 124,
12930, 136
infectious, 34, 117, 129, 130, 132
see also epidemiology
waterborne, 42
displacement, see refugees
drugs
drug cultures and crime, 1302
see also crime
drugs and alcohol, substance abuse, 12, 82,
86, 117, 125, 1302
pharmaceuticals, 85
elderly, see ageing
elites, 27, 28, 63, 65, 79, 94
employment, 15, 49, 81, 82, 140, 162
general 45, 115, 131, 15960
in universities, 4, 78, 29
energy use, 59, 66, 86
see also climate change
environmentalism, 65, 701, 142
see also conservation, sustainability
epidemiology, 50, 117, 125, 126, 131
see also disease
equality, 49, 140, 144, 151

see also feminism, gender relations
ethical practice, 5, 10, 25, 99, 110, 137, 152,
154
ethnobotany, 46, 63
i n d e x 207
ethnographic studies, examples, 1314, 17,

23, 34, 41, 48, 55, 65, 68, 70, 78, 83,
8990, 102, 141
ethnography, 23
NGO-graphy, 312
see also governance
see also methods
ethnomedicine, ethnophysiology, 423, 120
expert advice, 11, 12, 23, 100, 115, 159
expert witness, 9, 12, 15, 17, 235
fair trade, 55
famine, 26, 323
see also food, homelessness, poverty
farming, see agriculture
feminism, 49, 71, 95, 151
see also equality, gender relations
fieldwork, see methods
film and photography, 7, 145, 151, 1546
see also art, communications media,
methods: visual anthropology,
representation
fishing, fisheries, 48, 64, 678, 94, 114
food, 30, 50, 147
aid, 26, 30, 32
diet and lifestyle, 38, 11617, 1248, 133
marketing, 110, 113
nutrition, 30, 86, 124, 1257, 133
production, 16, 67, 96
rights, 17, 124
see also famine, poverty, rights: human
rights
waste, 67
see also garbology
forests
conservation, 45, 59, 62, 95
deforestation, 63, 67, 98
economic use, 61
free trade, 40, 56, 95
garbology, 667
see also food: waste
gender, 83, 85, 103, 118, 133
gender relations, 49, 57, 120, 1356, 140,
144
gender roles and identity, 67, 13940, 156
sexuality, 1389
see also equality, feminism
genetics
human, 11518, 133, 137, 141
see also human reproduction, kinship
modification (GM), 15
resources, ownership, 16
genocide, 1334
see also conflict
globalization, 537, 61, 64, 82, 158
economic, 18, 53, 546, 82, 934, 99
see also capitalism, counter-development

impacts, 17, 64, 95, 106, 115, 127
governance, 39, 62, 769, 86, 92
NGOs, 278
see also ethnography: NGO-graphy
see also policy
gypsies, see travellers
health, see disease, mental health
heritage, see cultural heritage
homelessness, 33, 76, 82
see also famine, poverty
hospitals, 50, 122
see also organizational analysis
host communities, relationships, 2, 5, 910,
151, 154
community service, 11
human organs, trade, 55, 137
human reproduction, 118, 120, 134
see also children, genetics, kinship
human resources, 101, 159
human rights, see rights
human services, 13, 67, 812, 87, 92
hydrology, hydroelectricity, see water
management
identity, 745, 124, 13847, 1514
business, corporate identity, 1023
see also organizational analysis
cultural identity, 73, 107, 1428, 1512,
155
see also stereotypes
ethnic identity, 106, 111, 152
gender identity, 1389, 140
see also gender roles and identity
globalization and identity, 54, 88, 148
see also citizenship, nationalism
indigenous identity, 91, 143, 1467,
152
208 i n d e x
national identity, 48, 54, 134, 142

see also nationalism
racial identity, 1412, 154
see also race, stereotypes
religious identity, 36, 138
see also art, film and photography,
representation
illness, see disease
interdisciplinarity, 45, 47, 74, 1589
internet, see communications media
irrigation, see water management
kinship, 24, 42, 118, 134
see also genetics, human reproduction
knowledge, 89
anthropological, 5, 17, 323
indigenous, local, 15, 448, 91, 147, 153
traditional ecological, 16, 212, 615, 142
traditional health, 42, 46, 117, 119, 121,
1312
land claims, 19, 213, 126, 1523
native title, 20
see also rights: land and resources
language, 1034, 120, 138, 145
discourse, 28, 31, 65, 70, 88, 95, 141

discourse analysis, 38, 65, 956, 105,
137
minority and indigenous, 12, 901, 1424
see also literacy, pedagogies
law, 18, 20, 21, 235, 72, 83, 85, 92, 98
regulation, 86, 94, 95, 114, 123
literacy, 91, 140
see also language
management
health, 34, 50, 118, 133
fisheries, see fishing, fisheries
land and resources, 39, 61, 63, 65, 67, 72
indigenous, 19, 22, 46, 512, 62, 142
see also sustainability
organizations, 32, 102
waste, 657, 86, 98
water, see water: management
manufacturing, 38, 63, 74, 93, 111, 114
market research, 93, 10711, 160
see also advertising, consumer behaviour,
social marketing
media, see communications media
mediation, see conflict resolution
mental health, 82, 86, 1323, 137
methods, 37, 22, 47, 99, 105, 109
cultural mapping, 22, 60
ethnography, 23, 57, 21, 89, 109
fieldwork, 3, 57, 9, 163
fieldwork examples, 16, 24, 34, 356, 72,
79, 856, 88, 97, 1045, 110, 120, 123,
125, 142, 148, 156, 1601
focus groups, 109, 110, 111, 128,
interviews, 67, 101, 126, 128, 161
literature review, 5, 7
oral histories, 122, 1445, 153
participant observation, 5, 7, 161
surveys, 101, 110, 111, 114, 146
visual anthropology, 7, 151, 1546
see also film and photography
see also participatory action research
migrants, see refugees
mining, 16, 967, 126
mining heritage, 153
see also cultural heritage
multiculturalism, 88, 89, 90, 99, 112, 1413
biculturalism, 142
see also cultural diversity
multiple realities, 43, 46, 57, 76
museums, 912, 1512, 154
see also art, communications media, cultural
heritage, performance, tourism
music, 60, 119, 138, 1467, 14950
see also art
myths, 45, 68, 89, 98, 102, 128
see also cosmology, religion, worldviews
nationalism, 88, 103, 1067, 1389, 1412,
150, 154
see also citizenship, globalization, identity
national parks, 9, 21, 512, 54, 64
see also conservation areas
nursing, 118, 120, 122, 134, 135

oral histories, see methods
organizational analysis, 279, 301, 38, 79,
81, 93, 99101, 108, 135
universities, 81
see also hospitals, identity: business and
corporate identity
i n d e x 209
ownership
knowledge, 1516, 45
see also rights, intellectual property
land and resources, 202, 56, 605, 67
see also land claims, rights: land and
resources, privatization
participatory action research (PAR),
participatory action, 212, 1201, 132
see also activism, social justice
pedagogies, 90, 91
see also language
performance, see art
pharmaceuticals, see drugs
policy, policy advice, 7, 757, 82, 92, 141
aid policy, 49, 127
economic policy, 55, 64, 114
economic policy, development, 3840, 42,
47
educational policy, 89, 902
environmental policy, 59, 646, 74
fisheries policy, 678
foreign policy, 159
health policy, 85, 1223, 12930, 135,
136, 137, 161
housing policy, 76, 82, 84, 92, 158
immigration, 24, 90, 92
social policy, 2, 76, 78, 82, 845, 87
see also governance
political ecology, 635
pollution, 18, 85, 126, 141
nuclear testing, 1256
see also water pollution
poverty, 24, 41, 82, 89
aid, 26, 30, 32, 36, 44
health, 1256
see also famine, homelessness
prisons, 1213, 25
privatization, 21, 33, 567, 60, 64
see also ownership, rights: land and
resources
prostitution, 131, 132
race, racism 9, 10, 345, 40, 83, 901, 141
identity, 1412, 154
see also identity, stereotypes
recycling, 86
reflexivity, 29, 62
refugees, migrants, 224, 334, 523, 64, 87,
88
asylum seekers, 235
see also cultural translation
education, 90
health, 334, 117, 124, 132, 134
identity, 138, 148
religion, religious beliefs, 2, 46, 62, 68, 118,

134, 138, 142
groups, 139, 142
practices, 12, 17, 25, 118, 1423, 150
see also cosmology, myths
representation, 29, 139
ethnographic, 141, 151, 155
media, 96, 106, 1545
see also advertising, communications
media
self, 144, 146, 149, 1514
see also art, cultural heritage, film and
photography, museums
research process, 7
rights
human rights, 10, 12, 16, 1718, 35, 556,
87
intellectual property, 1516, 46
land and resources, 1819, 202, 446,
56, 60, 67, see also land claims, land
and resources: native title, privatization
see also ownership
see also animals: animal rights
rituals and ceremonies, 12, 23, 138, 143, 150
exchange, 105
food, 124
historical, 23
mourning, 24, 150, 154
transitional, 98, 122, 150
see also cosmology, religion
sacred sites, 22, 60, 152
see also cultural landscapes, cultural
mapping
scientific neutrality, objectivity, 910, 40, 71,
73, 85, 99, 126, 136
senses, sensory experience, 74, 111, 119
see also cognition
sexual behaviour, 43, 86, 126, 132
smoking, 12, 128, 136
social impact analysis, 52, 98
210 i n d e x
social justice, 25, 50, 71, 82

see also activism, participatory action
social marketing, 867, 128
see also market research
social movements, 17, 21, 28, 57, 70, 1412
see also counter-development
stereotypes, 35, 79 83, 84, 107, 119, 129,
141, 142, 154
of anthropologists, 1, 3, 8
see also race, representation
sub-disciplines, specialized areas of
anthropology, 2, 133
agricultural anthropology, 67
archaeology, 2, 723, 117
art and material culture, 2, 74, 145
biological, physical anthropology, 2, 115,
121, 133, 141, 155
business and corporate anthropology, 100,
102, 112, 113, 158
cognitive anthropology, psychological
anthropology, 74, 889, 113

conflict resolution, 9, 1314, 1920, 356,
56, 69, 778, 84, 107, 141, 169
cultural anthropology, 2, 155
cultural heritage, 1523
design anthropology, 100, 11214
development, anthropology of, 19, 3741
economic anthropology, 2
educational anthropology, 8990, 102, 158
environmental anthropology, ecological
anthropology, biocultural anthropology,
2, 60, 63, 678, 701, 735
ethnomusicology, 119, 14950
evolutionary anthropology,
paleoanthropology, 61, 11517, 119, 121
forensic anthropology, 1, 133
gender studies, 49, 57, 13940
industrial anthropology, 100
legal anthropology, 20, 235, 62, 98, 158
linguistic anthropology, sociolinguistics,
901, 120, 143
medical anthropology, 2, 21, 118, 1203,
133, 1567, 158
museum ethnography, material culture, 1512
nutritional anthropology, 127, 133
political anthropology, 2, 32
political ecology, 65
refugee, migrant studies, 224, 334, 124,
878, 90, 117, 124, 132, 148, 158
religion, anthropology of, 2, 134
social anthropology, 2, 155
sport, 140
urban anthropology, 156
visual anthropology, 7, 145, 151, 1546
womens studies, 17, 49, 57, 87, 103,
1356, 140, 144
sustainability, 33, 38, 59, 612, 67, 745
see also biodiversity, conservation,
environmentalism, management: land
and resources
terrorism, 356, 144
theory, 3, 67, 77, 150, 1578
in application, 11, 39, 41, 66, 78, 83, 99,
109, 114
think tanks, 76, 789, 108
tourism
identity, 1489
indigenous communities, 54
see also art, cultural heritage, film and
photography, museums, performance
industry, 50, 546, 149, 1523
travellers, gypsies, 34
violence, 17, 245, 87
see also drug cultures and crime
waste, see management
water,
aid and development, 39
health, 29, 42, 124, 131
management, 44, 48, 52, 5960, 624, 74,
161
conservation, 74
dams and hydroelectricity, 19, 33, 52,

53, 98, 161
see also agriculture and farming
rights, access, 1718, 26, 49
see also rights
ownership, 20, 51, 53, 567, 60, 64
see also ownership, privatisation
pollution, 979, 128
see also pollution
wildlife, see conservation
witchcraft, 130, 142
witchdoctors, 42
worldviews, 2, 9, 69, 90, 150
see also cosmology, myths, religion

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things that the most accurate answer to the question what do

In effect, what anthropologists do is try to understand and represent the

Some university-based anthropologists also do consultancy work, and some

of Hispanic America have conferred a great deal of weight on the work of

Anthropologists have always had to make delicate judgements about where

In addition, Goheen is a director of a local lending organization, which gives

officers and continual mistakes which prisoners deeply resent . . . Anthropological

Grobsmith was also involved in the design of treatment programmes to tackle

representative of those same groups, anthropologists are frequently sought as

DEFENDING LIVELIHOODS AND

In a contemporary context, one of the major issues in agriculture is the

Industrial agriculture is one of the major stresses on indigenous landscapes, and

Nash focuses on people whose cultivated historical memories and everyday

Globalization is, of course, merely the latest development in a long process of

In Canada, when a major hydroelectric scheme was proposed at James Bay:

Also in Canada, Elizabeth Mackay (2005) looks at how non-indigenous groups

RECONCILING LEGAL PLURALISM

Office for Conflict Research in Developing Countries, Rschlikon,

As these examples show, advocacy can take a variety of forms. At times it

ME AN EXPERT? ANTHROPOLOGY, THE LAW AND

widows on the funeral pyres

not a primary one, and

Advocacy is thus an expanding part of anthropological activity, which draws

AID AND AMBIGUITY

The large-scale shift from government agencies to NGOs represents a major

Other anthropologists observe that NGOs are unelected, sometimes

example, in the scientific expertise of development economists, professionals,

Whether anthropologists choose to work directly with groups, or to seek funding

Jocelyn Graces experience as a consultant in Indonesia showed her that the

ANTHROPOLOGY SHOULD BE APPLIED

Sometimes as well as looking at the bigger picture an anthropological

International NGO Training and Research Centre (INTRAC). Under INTRACs

Even perhaps especially in times of famine, a systemic view is useful, and

this can be assisted and optimized.

Hansens work highlights some of the dangers of short-term introduced solutions,

DEALING WITH DISPLACEMENT

UNDERSTANDING RACE AND RACISM

similar tasks, but clearly in an international discipline such as anthropology

Birgit Bruchlers research on Islamist groups in Indonesia is concerned with the

An important aspect of the anthropology of development is to:

In the early days of anthropological involvement in development, it was more

Adviser, DFID China

Anthropologists are also closely involved in development activities, and making

SUPPORTING A GRASSROOTS APPROACH

My MA was very specifically focused around a critique of the development industry

closely on campaign coordination

CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT ACTIVITIES

PEGS (Practical Education and Education Support), Kingsway,

IMPACTING GLOBAL PROGRAMMES AND POLICIES

CONNECTING MULTIPLE REALITIES

program was based largely on

PROMOTING MEANINGFUL PARTICIPATION IN

place. It was no way to

knowledge small-scale, culturally specific and geographically local hampers its

Multiple realities are formed, in part, by different bodies of knowledge, which

Robert Rhoades (whom we met in Chapter 1, discussing advocacy) points to the