Is It Really a Man’s Man’s Man’s World?: What Would Sally Slocum Say?

Growing up, I was obsessed with “oldies” music. I knew every song on the tapes and CDs my dad kept in his car and absolutely adored singing along (perhaps off pitch…). One of the songs that would occasionally come on was James Brown’s “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World.” The song essentially tells listeners that everything that has ever been created has been done so by a man (i.e. cars, train, electric light, boats, children’s toys), but that having a woman or a girl made it all worthwhile and that men would be lost without women.

You can listen to the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwuO2dfqrF4 .

Even as a child, this song didn’t sit well with me (I suppose I have been a feminist since before I knew what it meant). On my way home from ballet one day, “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World” came on the radio.  I remember asking my dad why it was a man’s world and he attempted to explain to me that women were not allowed to do all of the things he mentions in his song back then. As a five year old, I was flabbergasted. I remember busting into a mini uproar about how it wasn’t fair. I probably used “Annie Get Your Gun” as my evidence of why James Brown was wrong (as musicals were my other favorite genre of music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WO23WBji_Z0)). “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World” had a lasting impact on how I perceived the world around me. 

As I sat down to read “Woman the Gatherer: Male Bias in Anthropology” by Sally Slocum, my revulsion for “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World” suddenly resurfaced due to the fact that Slocum was finally making an eloquent and scholarly argument to combat the idea that men are responsible for all things important and good in the world.

In this article, Slocum attacks the “Man the Hunter” thesis of Sherwood Washburn and C. Lancaster and replaces it (or adds to it) with “Woman the Gatherer.” Written in 1968, “Man the Hunter” was a popular theory that proposed that the entire human species inherited behaviors from the tendency of early hominid males to cooperate in hunting and killing animals. However, “Man the Gatherer” provides Slocum with the opportunity to generally critique male bias and how it has and continues to limit the knowledge anthropologists learn because it has and continues to limit the questions asked. She explains that “Man the Hunter” offers her an incredible opportunity for critique because it is an argument that is speculatively made on inferences from a relatively small amount of data, allowing her to show the degree to which male bias impacts perception.

Slocum begins the article by examining the anthropological knowledge itself and breaks it down into three elegant parts: the study of the nature of the human species, what we accept as proof, reality, and the grounds for rationality, and the close examination of the questions asked in anthropology. In this article, Slocum discusses the questions asked in anthropology because she points the inherent flaw in anthropology – “We are human beings studying human beings,” therefore skewing the results based on our own past experiences and culture and causing us to ask certain questions while leaving out others.

Slocum finds this especially troubling because she points out that white Western males are largely responsible for conducting anthropological research in the past, bringing with them their unconscious cultural assumptions and male bias. She then outlines some of the ways in which the field of anthropology is changing, allowing her to present her belief in male bias as an acknowledgement of one of the field’s flaws.

As she begins to counter “Man the Hunter,” she addresses the ambiguous use of gender language and the domination of the importance of the male “hunter” image within the creation of society. Slocum points out that females are entirely left out of Washburn and Lancaster’s theory, pointing out that “A theory who leaves out half of the human species is unbalanced.” In addition, she also attacks the use of the survival of “men hunting,” even though it is no longer necessary, as evidence to demonstrate human evolution.

Slocum continues to analyze the data presented in “Man the Hunter” by presenting counterarguments that interpret the data differently. She criticizes the idea that women stayed home, raising children, while men worked together and hunted, building the community. She criticizes the idea that family, incest prohibitions, and marriage grew out of the need to eliminate competition between males for females. She criticizes the idea that human social and emotional bonds can be traced to the hunter bringing back the food to share. Overall, she criticizes that women were left out of “Man the Hunter,” arguing that the skills described by Washburn and Lancaster are not necessarily genetic, and therefore not definitive or likely.

Slocum then outlines her idea of “Woman the Gatherer.” She argues that the the gathering, carrying, and food sharing of females with their young was the basis for food sharing, tool use and innovation, and the evolution of human cognitive capacities. She argues that baskets and slings for carrying infants and gathered food were the first tools, not materials for hunting. She saw the most important relationship as being between the mother and child, thus framing the roles and functions of culture and social organization and implicating that hunters would have brought food home to their mothers and siblings, not to their mates (i.e. those who shared the strongest bond).

By providing this alternative interpretation based off of the same pool of evidence, Slocum challenged the male bias she perceived and reiterated the importance of the questions that anthropologists are asking. She also explains that, because anthropology is such a male dominated field, it makes sense for women to follow into their male bias and explains gender bias is as real and as important as other types of biases (i.e. race biases). However, she calls anthropologists to change their ways, acknowledge their biases, and work to use it as an advantage.

When this article was written in 1975, feminist anthropology was just beginning to gain popularity. Feminist anthropologists worked to identify and make amends for the perceived male bias they believed to be running rampant throughout anthropology, as evidenced by Slocum’s article.

The reasons Slocum offers to discredit “Man the Hunter” exemplify many of the arguments being made by her feminist anthropologist contemporaries. The exclusion of females from “Man the Hunter” invalidates it in her eyes because it neglects the influence of women on both culture and society. This was a common theme because many anthropologists prior to Slocum did not examine questions relating to femininity, child rearing, domestic life, and other women-dominated social and cultural spheres. Women were being encouraged to investigate these topics and began asking new questions. For this reason, Slocum’s questioning of questions is also an important and relevant topic for her, her fellow feminist anthropologists, and all anthropologists in general.

In addition to the increase in the number of women participating in the field, those in minorities were being encouraged to participate. Slocum uses this article as a way to reemphasize how the female perspective was lacking in the field, especially in the work of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. She also reminds readers that bias is everywhere – not just in those who are part of new minorities participating in anthropology. She highlights that bias exists in previous anthropological assumptions and research and that this must be acknowledged.

Slocum seems to be influenced by her feminist contemporaries and the general anthropological theory of the day (structuralism, cultural ecology and materialism, symbolic and interpretive anthropology, and postmodernism). However, she takes these theories and applies a feminist angle, allowing her to critique previous work and derive new theory to be used for future generations. The importance Slocum places on acknowledging and addressing bias is prominent in postmodernism, showing that post modernism is also affecting feminist anthropology. Postmodernists believe that there is no unbiased knowledge, which Slocum readily points out throughout this work. In addition, Slocum appears to have been influenced by Marx. By examining female labor and deriving its inherent value in the evolution of humankind, she looks at the value of the work that women were contributing domestically. She saw this work as allowing for men’s more public behavior to take place. Looking at the “hidden costs” of the work the women did when scavenging and taking care of the household allowed for Slocum to present a new perspective of human evolution.

Slocum criticizes Washburn and Lancaster for using “survivals” as evidence for their theory, allowing her to discredit a significant part of their argument. Survivals were made popular by Edward Burnett Tylor, who used these current artifacts or practices as present vestiges of, and clues to, past cultural practices. Many anthropologists heavily criticized this theory, including Slocum, showing the decreased influence of Tylor on anthropology in the late twentieth century.

Although she was not necessarily a deconstructionist or post-structuralist, Slocum uses this article to deconstruct the ideas of Man the Hunter and to analyze the structural forces that allowed this argument to become the most prevalent and accepted. This article shows a general trend developing in which preconceived ideas are being taken apart (i.e.men are responsible for cultural evolution), structuralism is being questioned, and power structures are increasingly analyzed and seen as important to the shaping of knowledge, culture, and cultural practices. 

Slocum presents a strong case for why “Man the Hunter” is incorrect. Her questioning of biases and counter-arguments cast significant doubt on “Man the Hunter,” and seem to discredit it completely. Overall, Slocum does a fantastic job of showing male bias and emphasizing the importance of recognizing the questions asked and the questions left unasked.

However, in discrediting “Man the Hunter,” Slocum makes the same mistakes. “Woman the Gatherer” seems just as outlandish as “Man the Hunter.” Neither argument possesses the upper hand because neither argument can have authoritative fact (at least based off of the evidence presented in the article). Slocum criticizes Washburn and Lancaster for not acknowledging their biases and for not reiterating that “Man the Hunter” is simply a theory and not authoritative truth. However, she seems to make the same mistakes. Although she never directly states her argument is the correct one, it is implied. She acknowledges her own bias, but uses it to make a counter-argument and not to clarify the ways in which her bias affects her interpretation. In her own article, Slocum does not fully follow through with correcting the criticisms she made about “Man the Hunter.”

Although the work has its flaws, Slocum effectively and eloquently provides a counter-argument to a theory that was widely accepted without really being questioned. It highlights the importance of acknowledging bias and what questions are asked vs. unasked. Both of these issues continue to be important in anthropology today and are as equally applicable now as they were when she wrote "Woman the Gatherer." 

Reading “Woman the Gatherer” was empowering because it called out males for assuming they are responsible for everything important in the world and for evolution as a whole. I realize that credit is due to the men who invented cars, train, electric light, and boats, but just because men created these inventions doesn’t mean that women are not capable producers and creators of culture and the world in which we live. Slocum's work is inspirational for both women and those in minorities who are constantly told that others are responsible or more capable of effecting real change, thus making those without power afraid to take risks, change norms, and apply their own perspectives. Slocum suggests that perspective is important. Just because something is less tangible doesn't mean that it cannot influence society and culture to the same, if not greater, capacity. 

It seems evident that Slocum would not think we live in a man’s world, but in the same shared world where bias abounds and everyone is capable of being an important contributor and catalyst for cultural change.

Structural Functionalism as Seen in The Hunger Games (including Catching Fire sorry for the spoiler alert if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie!)

The Hunger Games trilogy, written by Suzanne Collins, is a book series in which the first book, The Hunger Games, then Catching Fire, and ending with Mockingjay.  The Hunger Games trilogy developed into a film series because of its popularity within our culture. The Hunger Games series variously displays in both individual (individual aspects within the individual novels/ movies) and collective manners aspects of Structural Functionalism. The Structural Functionalism is seen in the rights of rebellions as discussed by Max Gluckman in his piece "Rights of Rebellion in South-East Africa [1963]," where rights of rebellion is defined as "rituals that provide cathartic ["socially sale release of feelings of social resentment" (582)] protest against abuses of political authority, heading off revolution against authority itself" (593).

The first part of the trilogy, The Hunger Games, describes how each year, two people (tributes) from the 12 Districts of Panem, between the ages of 12 and 18, are drawn from a bowl of name cards and will have to fight against one another in what is known as the Hunger Games, a nationally televised event, until there is one survivor left who wins. This competition is a result of a rebellion that took place in District 13, which was destroyed by the political power in the series known as the Capitol, and serves as a reminder to the people that revolt will not go unpunished in the eyes of the lead of the Capitol, President Snow. The two main characters in the series are Katniss and Peeta, the female who volunteered as tribute in place of her younger sister (and the male who was chosen as tribute from District 12. 

In the beginning of their time leading up to the games, the tributes are asked to individually display a set of skills to the Gamemakers. While Katniss is asked to display her skill, the Gamemakers are conversing amongst themselves and paying her very little attention, and thus in a rebellious manner, Katniss shoots an arrow at the apple in the pigs mouth from which they are eating on, startling the Gamemakers yet also gaining their attention, takes a bow, and walks out the door. This is her first important display of act of rebellion seen in the series. 

During the games, Katniss befriends a young girl named Rue. When Rue was killed while trying to help Katniss. In rebellion to just leaving the body of a tribute there to be picked up later, Katniss surrounds her bodies with flowers, looks to the camera and continues her performance of a rebellious act. She makes the hand gesture known from within her District for when someone loved has died as means for the people of District 11 to see. This rebellious act is followed by a riot in District 11 due to their anger towards the Gamemakers.

Throughout the duration of the Hunger Game, the rules were changed to say that the two chosen from a District could be victors of the games as a couple, which bring Peeta and Katniss together. In the end of the games, when the two have survived, the rules are drastically changed to say that one must kill the other. In an act of rebellion, Katniss suggests that her and Peeta both eat poisonous berries at the same time so neither of them have to kill the other because of their love for one another (a nice ploy Peeta created during an interview as means to gain more sponsors for supplies during the games that Katniss used to her advantage to ensure that her act of rebellion would work). The Gamemaker did indeed react to this rebellion and allowed the two to win the 74^th Hunger Games together, despite the wants of President Snow. This is the most significant act of rebellion that Katniss performs in the first part of the series. Because President Snow was not happy that there were two victors instead of one, he orders that eating the very same poisonous berries kill the head Gamemaker.

           

           In the second book, Catching Fire, the ritual rebellions are much more prominent. Following the rebellious act of a riot in District 11, the other Districts have begun ritual rebellions in the form riots as well. Before Katniss’s display at then end of The Hunger Games, there had been virtually no displays of rebellion or riots in the Capitol and surrounding Districts due to the destruction of District 13 after its revolt and the implementation of the Hunger Games as means of constant reminder that rebellion is not allowed. This supports Gluckman’s argument about ritual rebellions as indicated in this quotation, “I would chiefly stress that the rebellious ritual occurs within an established and unchallenged social order” (207).  Because President Snow now views Katniss as a threat since her rebellious acts have now started to form rights of rebellion, he changes the rules the 75^th Hunger Games to include a male and female tribute who were previous victors, placing Katniss and Peeta yet again in a fight for their lives in hopes that she will not survive this time. President Snow also threatens Katniss’s family if she cannot make him believe that her love for Peeta is true, knowing very well she was in love with another man from her District. 

        Not only have the other Districts began to perform ritual rebellions, but her peers also incorporates these rights of rebellion. Peeta, specifically, incorporates one of Katniss's rebellious acts to form a ritual rebellion: acting out in front of the Gamemakers in order to draw their attention. This year when the Gamemakers ask the tributes to display their set of skills, Peeta paints a picture of Rue on the ground surrounded by the flowers. This is followed by Katniss, yet again performing the same ritual of rebellion and acting out as means of drawing the attention of the Gamemakers, by hanging a dummy and painting the name of the dead head Gamekeeper on it, bowing, and taking her exit.

 At the interview session before the games began, President Snow made Katniss wear a wedding dress due to the fact that she Peeta announced their engagement as means to appease President Snow to keep Katniss's family safe. Because her designer had established her outfits as “The Girl on Fire” her clothes tend to involve flames when at public events. When she began to twirl, the wedding dress started to flame at the bottom and then transformed into completely different attire. Because of this President Snow had her designer killed, due to his rebellious act that contributed to the other rituals of rebellion that were taking place in the nation.

         

         The acts of rebellion displayed by Katniss that give rise to ritual rebellions in The Hunger Games and Catching Fire have greatly supported Gluckman's argument of ritual rebellions: "I shall argue that these ritual rebellions proceed within an established and sacred traditional system, in which there is dispute about particular distributions of power, and not about the structure of the system itself. This allows for instituted protest, and in complex ways renews the unity of the system." Due to her actions in the 74th Hunger Games, the Districts decide that a revolution needs to take place aimed at those who hold the distribution of power in the Capitol rather than the Capitol itself: the Gamemakers and most importantly, President Snow. In the end of the second part of the series it is revealed that even those within the Capitol that are close to President Snow join the revolution which brings about the unity of the system, and the recreation of District 13, that Gluckman mentions in his argument. These rituals of rebellion are solely due to the differing fundamental truths/ worldviews between the people within the Capitol and the surrounding 12 Districts and President Snow. This feeling within the nation has been a building tension since the destruction of District 13, a supporting factor in the argument made by Gluckman when he suggests that "rebellious rituals may perhaps be confined to situations where strong tensions are aroused by conflict between different structural principles” (214).  I can’t wait to see what the third part Mockingjay  has in store and what ritual rebellions may appear.

Practice Theory and Habit - An Explanation through Example

Despite our best efforts, many of us cannot help but become creatures of habit. On a day to day basis, a large number of our individual daily activities are repetitious and mundane due to their inherent natures and continued presence in our lives. Tasks like putting the gas in the car, going grocery shopping, and attending church on Sundays are just a few examples of activities we can be a part of on autopilot.

Fortunately, the spicy and exhilarating anthropological field of practice theory addresses these issues and offers an explanation for why and how these kinds of activities exist. If you are struggling with the feeling that every day is the same in your own life, then perhaps awareness of this theory will help you. Practice theory is the product of trying to resolve weaknesses in structuralism, structural-functionalism, and poor versions of Marxism. These fields struggle with the concept of change. A structure can be recognized and understood, but how can it change over time? To remedy the static approaches of other schools of thought, practice theorists introduce a model relating flexible ideology, structure and practice. Through this model, dualistic approaches that have been used in the past can be improved upon or tossed entirely for better ones. The relationship presented can be understood as ideology impacting practice, thus reproducing structure. Each part of this system is malleable and subject to change. Ideology can become internalized and veiled over time, but is still subject to change at conscious and unconscious levels if necessary. Key to practice theory is habitus, a concept explained by the theorist Pierre Bourdieu. Habitus is “an acquired system of generative schemes objectively adjusted to the particular conditions in which it is constituted.” Habitus is vital because it is a responsive system that can adjust to external or internal changes.

So let’s explore practice theory in the context of everyday routine. For the sake of discussion, I will describe some things I do routinely in my life, but you can think about your own life. Every weekday morning, I do almost the exact same thing. I wake up an hour and a half before my first class, I spend 15 to 30 minutes guilt-tripping myself out of bed because I need to go to class, then I put on clothes, brush my teeth for exactly 2 minutes, look over any notes or homework I have relevant to my first class, and leave my dorm for class 15 minutes before it is scheduled to start. I do not eat breakfast, I shower the night before, and my hair is short so I do not take the time to style it or anything like that. So this is a succinct summary of my morning practices. But now let’s look at the why of this structure. What kind of ideology exists behind it? My morning is based on maximizing sleep. I sacrifice morning activities like a warm breakfast, a wake up shower, and additional preparation time for class for extra time in my warm bed. This allows me to stay up late the night before with minimized consequences, or sleep for extra time if I managed to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Further, when I have a job instead of classes, I will most likely have hours that I have to be at work so I will not have the luxury of sleeping in because I feel like it, so this is possibly my last chance to do so. I do the activities I do in the morning because they are the minimum requirements I need to meet to feel ready for the day. However, I do these activities without going through the process I am explaining here; I just go through the motions. This is the structural part of this example. But what about habitus? Consider me brushing my teeth for exactly two minutes. This is a recent change in my morning habits due to receiving an electric toothbrush as a gift. For my entire life until about a month ago, I have brushed my teeth until they felt clean, an obviously variable amount of time. But now I have this brush that vibrates for exactly two minutes, with momentary differential oscillations every 30 seconds to inform me it is time to change to another oral quadrant. This change came with changes in practice, ideology and structure. I now believe that to properly clean my teeth with this brush, I should follow the instructions that say to brush my teeth in the aforementioned manner. My desire for clean and cavity-free teeth has not changed, but my beliefs and standards for achieving this goal have. Note that this is not a claim of improvement, only of difference. My old method may have worked as well or even better than my new one. But the structure of my morning routine has been slightly restructured due to a small change in underlying presuppositions.

Practice theory is beneficial because it is a fluid solution to the static problems inherent to structural theories. It addresses the changing nature of ideology, structure and practice by relating these three dynamic concepts in a model. By stepping back from our habits and evaluating them with the tools of practice theory, we can become cognizant of why we do the things we do, and how these habitual activities can be subject to change.

-Phillip

Discussion of Bourgois's Moral Econonomy

Chapter 3 of Philippe Bourgois’s Righteous Dopefiend discusses the “moral economy” of the heroin-dependent homeless people who constitute the Edgewater community. I intend to use discussion of this chapter to specifically relate Bourgois’s concept to the anthropological theory it draws on.

In the Edgewater community, the moral economy is driven by the physiological drive for heroin. Operating on the cellular level, heroin does not merely promote psychological dependence or an internalized craving for the drug. Instead, it creates a fundamental need in addicted bodies that can only be satisfied by heroin. After an injection, this need reasserts itself approximately every eight hours. If more heroin is not injected, then dependent individuals began to experience “dopesickness,” a feeling described by those who have experienced it in the Edgewater community as “a million ants crawling through your skin,” “anxiety,” lack of muscle control,” and “scraping your bones.” Bourgois explains that due to the extreme discomfort resulting from heroin withdrawal and the persistent fear of dopesickness being just around the corner, actions that prevent dopesickness drive the moral economy.  The moral economy is like a system of reciprocity aimed at preventing dopesickness onset. The actions of individuals in the moral economy all strive for this goal. It is necessary to have a generous reputation to best insure continued availability of heroin. When heroin is purchased, it is most often bought by a small group of people who then evenly divide up the heroin. This is not the result of economic necessity, but instead the basis for network boundaries that provide companionship and also facilitate material survival. It is a process that hedges bets against a potential future risk. For example, someone that has a desirable product now (in this case, heroin) shares it with others instead of hoarding it because in the near future the roles of this person and their peers could be reversed. This positively reinforces social relationships and prevents excess suffering among community members. A “loan” of heroin can be given out to stave off withdrawal symptoms because it is understood this will be paid back in the future if the lender needs a fix or something else the loan recipient can provide.

There are connections between the moral economy and the ideas from many anthropological schools of thought, depending how far back in time one wishes to travel. Going back to Emile Durkheim, a social scientific pioneer of structural functionalism, we begin to see questioning of the forces that allow groups to maintain cohesion and solidarity. Durkheim argued that community members were bound together through shared beliefs and values that were taught. Further, he differentiated the cohesive forces in “primitive” and “complex” societies, claiming the earlier was bound by similarity, while the latter maintained cohesion through difference. The Edgewater homeless are an interesting task for Durkheim because they exhibit both similarity and difference, and varying degrees of cohesion. There is division within the moral economy based on race and gender, but there are also forces that transcend these boundaries, like the physiological dependence on heroin. So it is unclear to me if the Edgewater would qualify as a “primitive” or “complex” group to Durkheim. Durkheim’s student Marcel Mauss expands and refines Durkheim’s ideas through his understanding of gift giving. He placed precedence on the individual’s mind over that of the group mind, prioritizing internalized structures in guiding reciprocal systems. He recognized that a gift and the process through which it was given embodied basic social principles. This is evident in the Edgewater moral economy when “cottons” are given to close group members in order to stave off the effects of withdrawal. This action hints at the unethical nature in the Edgewater community of allowing a non-enemy to experience dopesickness when it can be prevented. Failing to observe this practice can end friendships. Finally, the great French structural anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss developed theory that reflected the study of linguistics. Consequently, he valued the form of social events as much as the content itself. The importance of form in the Edgewater community moral economy manifests itself in numerous ways. The processes of purchasing, sharing, and consuming heroin all have specific ways they should occur. To illustrate, we can consider the process of dividing heroin to be shared prior to injection. Since it is often bought by small groups of people, instead of individuals, it must be divided evenly to be fair. However, the black tar heroin used in the community is “sticky when warm and brittle when cold” and is therefore difficult to split up evenly. Consequently, there is a very structured process for dividing up the heroin in liquid form using a measured container to insure that everyone gets as close to an equal amount as possible. The process upholds the values of fairness and cooperation that maintain cohesion.

These theorists I have discussed are all structural anthropologists, but the ability to interpret the moral economy is certainly not limited to their contributions. Further critique from other perspectives may reveal additional insight about the moral economy, or present critical flaws in the concept.

-Phillip

Tangible Anthropology

"He slowly inserts a pair of manicure scissors into the center of the inflammation, pushing one of the blades all the way up to the handle. He then slowly swirls the blade around to loosen the flesh. Pus flows out of the gash like a weeping eye. He finally pulls the scissors out and, with slow deliberation, squeezes the gash between his two thumbs to 'drain it.' After ten or twenty more seconds of grimacing and squeezing, he pokes a toenail clipper into the center of the abscess, using it as tweezers. He pulls out some sort of black gunk and, satisfied, holds it up for me to photograph." (Bourgois 102)

Shocking. Horrifying. Mesmerizing. A day in the life of a homeless heroin addict, as told by Philippe Bourgois and Jeffery Schonberg in their photo-ethnography--Righteous Dopefiend. I have never, in the history of my academic career, encountered a single source that manages to be so inherently repulsive, yet simultaneously demand my complete and undivided attention. The gut-wrenching disgust I have experienced while reading passages akin to the one aforementioned are routinely paralleled by feelings of awe and excitement, but above all else, I have garnered an immense respect for Bourgois and Schoberg. Righteous Dopefiend has redefined my definition of the anthropologist's role in society. But why?

Make no mistake, this is quality anthropology. But, does it approach the brilliance of Levi-Strauss or Boas? The genre-bending theory of Bourdieu or Foucault? Frankly, no. When broken into its component parts, nothing about Righteous Dopefiend screams literary genius. And that is exactly what I needed.

Up until this work, ANT 340 has been a nonstop assembly line of massive ideas and thinkers. Time constraints have demanded an average of one theory per week, and we often but scratched the surface of what these people were trying to say. Derrida cannot be entirely condensed into a few hours. Hell, I'm not even sure he can be condensed into an entire lifetime! These minds have transcended the confines of Anthropology, and have become quintessential elements of social discussion--regardless of field. And herein lies the problem...they're too big! It became a chore grinding through such broad, lofty discourse, week in and week out, and I would more often than not enter and exit class without much confidence in my mastery of the material. While intellectually impressive, I would argue that the majority of theories we analyzed this semester have lacked what anthropology requires most--tangibility. Tangibility is what ultimately distinguishes anthropology from armchair philosophy and everyday journalism. This quality has always been the ultimate factor in determining my anthropological experiences. Can I put myself in the shoes of the speaker? When I close my eyes, can I envision their field?

Enter Righteous Dopefiend. Between the gritty photography work (the likes of which make  subtle yet excellent use of shadows, angles, and juxtaposition) and bare-all descriptions, my mind can establish a physical connection with its people, places, and subject matter. I feel as if I am sitting next to Bourgois and Schoberg as they observe this esoteric society. Do I want to be? Absolutely not. After reading this work...after visualizing Hogan arriving in the ER with a maggot-infested abscess, having it cut out, returning to his camp and then immediately injecting heroin into his gaping wound...I feel as if I am reading the accounts of an actual Hell on Earth. And, most importantly, it is a modern Hell. Unlike Malinowski, Boas, Levi-Strauss, Mead, Foucalt, and virtually every other anthropologist mentioned in our class, Bourgois and Schoberg are still alive, and so is their subject. Righteous Dopefiend poses pertinent questions about my world--from social ideology to policy reform--making the entire experience an interactive one. Instead of assuming the role of historian, content with making widespread generalizations about the broadest of concepts (all of which are ultimately based on uniquely personal, biased, and incomplete sets of information), Bourgois and Schoberg conduct tangible anthropology.  Every passage is full of purpose, and each photograph is immediately relevant. While I do not envy their situation, I cannot help but admire their dedication to the field--a field that felt so stagnant to me but one week ago.

Visuals Into Opression

The book that we are currently reading, Righteous Dopefiend, raises many great points that we never think about in our everyday lives.  In class, a good point was raised about having domestic Anthropology instead of going to remote cultures and doing their work over there.  The book, at least for me, raised a lot of questions to ask myself.  Say if it were myself in the shoes of either Philippe Bourgois or Jeff Schonberg doing this ethnography, what would have I done differently?  The two Anthropologist have done a good job of remaining a part of this homeless community while staying away from actually partaking of the drug aspect within the community. 

                One good example is of something they do well in this ethnography is dealing with medical issues.  If it were me watching the people of the Edgewater homeless community do this, I would be constantly urging for them to seek medical care.  Philippe and Jeff also had troubles adjusting to this dilemma in the beginning because of how odd the manner of medical attention these individuals received in Edgewater.  Both ethnographers also do a good job of not only being unbiased for the most part, as well as explaining what happens to the reader very well.  The pictures added in some portions of the book gives us a good holistic view of what these two men are witnessing.  That is one limitation they address very well.  Some ethnographies can very descriptive in terms of what occurs within their respective areas, but readers sometimes seem to not be able to visualize it that well.  Adding these black and white photos helps all readers contextualize the scenario.  Yet, they only add so few during the readings to not overload the reader with too many visuals.

                Phillipe and Jeff contextualize the cycle of addiction these Edgewater homeless go through in a well thought out manner.  One good example is Carter trying to save money in order to into a rehabilitation program during the Christmas season. He gives Jeff half of what is needed to enter rehabilitation, but he was unable to make enough before the Christmas season ended due to his addiction to heroin as well as problems with management.  After knowing he would not make enough to enter rehabilitation, he dashed his hopes of entering and continued to partake in his addiction.  Jeff and Phillipe could have just said this outright and descriptively, but were able to show this with very well written examples.  Though this may be seen as leading the reader in a sense, they use the examples to show the misfortune that goes occurs within this community.  Much of this ethnography, because of the way they present it, seems to be somewhat geared like a Neomarxian mentality due to the emphasis on an economic system.  One of the foci in the ethnography is how the system attempts to keep these low lumpen proletariat.  Exploiting them and making sure they never reach class consciousness by demoralizing them and making their lifestyle criminal. 

Critique of Postmodernism and James Clifford’s “Partial Truths”

      Following its emergence in other disciplines such as literary analysis and philosophy, the assimilation of postmodernism into the body of theoretical approaches within anthropology brought to light a new emphasis on discourses of power and ethnographic representation.  Building on the work of symbolic and interpretive anthropologists such as Victor Turner and Clifford Geertz, the postmodernist trend in anthropology underscored the textual, and therefore inherently biased, nature of ethnography.  With this new-found consideration of the flaw in supposing an ethnographic text to be an unquestionable, view from Mount Olympus, account of the culture in study, “Deconstruction became a new watchword for anthropologists” (HAT 151).  The implications of the gendered, socio-economic trend of the white, European male anthropologist, as well as situating the discipline as a whole within a global and historical context, began to take shape.  To briefly reiterate the three major tenets of postmodernism which were discussed in class, there is no unbiased knowledge, or objective ethnography; power is implicit in knowledge; and culture should be read as a text or performance.  The last of the three tenets recalls the convergence of postmodernism with symbolic anthropology, while the first two tenets reflect on how power shapes knowledge, both through what has been written and who is writing.

      James Clifford’s introduction “Partial Truths” explores the implications of the postmodernist critique of ethnographies as “a genre of literature, and thus a form of art,” as well how this perpetuates historical and contextual power relationships (423).  Clifford’s move to distinguish between the dual connotations of fiction is not only a strength of his article, but a distinction which makes postmodernism more approachable.  That is, in delineating between fiction as falsehood and “something made or fashioned,” Clifford does not condemn ethnographies as not having a purpose in light of this theory, nor does he offer a bleak future for ethnographic study.  Rather, in saying that “Ethnographic writings can properly be called fictions in the sense of ‘something made or fashioned,’” Clifford explodes the area of study and questioning which can be applied to anthropology (426).  This idea does not discount the ethnographic work, but rather calls for attention to be paid to factors outside of the content of the ethnography, such as: Who conducted the research?  Why did they choose this narrative structure?  What does their choice of episodes to include say about their own culture background and perspective?  In English literature studies, a postmodernist critique of a text merely deconstructs the textual inconsistencies present.  In Beginning Theory: An Introduction to Literary and Cultural Theory, Peter Barry describes that for a postmodernist, “fragmentation is an exhilarating, liberating phenomenon, symptomatic of our escape from the claustrophobic embrace of fixed systems of belief.” (Barry 81) Postmodernist study in literature, then, in no way disregards a work as unfit for study, or invalidates its position in academic research.  It merely looks at it with a more critically nuanced eye, identifying the questions that have been neglected and, even if slightly uncomfortable, pushing ahead into those new areas. 

      Clifford also states that “Even the best ethnographic texts – serious, true fiction- are systems, or economies of truth.  Power and history work through them, in ways their authors cannot fully control.  Ethnographic truths are thus inherently partial- committed and incomplete.” (427) The role of postmodernism is to take these inconsistencies and to foreground them, thereby making the embedded power tensions in the work accessible and then working to tease them out of the study.  Since postmodernism states that there is no “true” representation of a culture, sifting through these ingrained power discrepancies will not ultimately produce a pristine work.  Rather, postmodernism provides us with the toolkit to be able to formulate a better understanding, despite our own (as ethnographers) subconscious thoughts and biases.  Even though “The authority of a scientific discipline, in this kind of historical account, will always be mediated by the claims of rhetoric and power,” Clifford acknowledges that, through postmodernism’s lens, “Noncelebratory histories are becoming common.” (429) Postmodernism’s unconventional consideration of the ethnography as having the same qualities as a literary text allows it to be studied using similar tools of analysis.  Referring back to the “noncelebratory histories,” it also allows for the literary phenomena of counter-memories and literary archaeologies to gain a foothold in anthropology.  This parallel to counter-memory, that which runs against the normally accepted version of a story (the dominant perspective), and literary archaeology, the act of excavating perspectives that might have been lost due to these unequal discourses of power, can only help to bolster the depth and breadth of anthropology’s study.  Although postmodernism does provide a daunting self-reflective critical task, it is a powerful tool for expanding the opportunities and focuses of anthropological research.

Barry, Peter. Beginning Theory: An Introduction to Literary and Cultural Theory. 3^rd ed. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. Print.