stormdog: a woman with light skin and long brown hair that cascades over one shoulder. On her other side, she is holding a large plush shark against herself. She has pink fingernails and pink cat eye glasses (Default)
I've seen a few memes around lately that are all humor based on the idea that anthropologists and archaeologists don't know what they're talking about and and don't pay attention to the people they're working with. The three that come to mind are:

*One about archaeologists who can't figure out what certain leatherworking tools are until a modern leatherworker happens to see the tools and explains their use.
*An anthropologist who is tricked into thinking that four stone stacks that an indigenous person is using to mark out the parking space for their car are some kind of ancient ritual markers.
*Archaeologists who fail to consider a practical though tradtionally feminine use for a discovered artifact (using Roman dodecahedra for knitting) and have decided that many thousands of artifacts must be religious or ceremonial just because they can't figure out what they're actually used for even though a modern "Youtube grandma" could have told them.

None of these memes are consistent with the way this kind of research works and that bothers me. A big part of why they bother me is that they feel like a sort of insidious anti-intellectual propaganda purporting to come from a woke perspective. Sort of like the memes that criticize the "left" for "erasing" Aunt Jemima from history through making the company change the product name. That criticism is misguided at best, and I believe these other memes are as well. I have finally written about my thoughts on them. Those thoughts, copied from a response elsewhere, follow:

---

I'm going to write a lengthy reply here, because this kind of meme is troublesome in ways that are not obvious, but that bother me personally. I know that some people take this kind of long reply as indicative of anger, but I'm really not angry! I just think it's important to respond to memes that suggest that academics and the practice of science is disconnected from reality, and that's what I think that this meme is, at its heart.

There are other memes like this one too, most notably one about some particular stone tools made for leatherworking purposes that archaeologists were supposedly unable to determine the use of until they asked someone who does modern leatherworking and who could immediately clarify the purpose of said tool to the confused archaeologists. That meme is also bogus.

As someone with an anthropology degree and who knows working anthropologists/archaeologists, the problem with these memes is the implication that anthropologists specifically, and I think academics in general, don't know what they're talking about. That they are living in an ivory tower, blissfully disconnected from the realities of the lives and culture they are working with. That implication is simply false. There may have been something to it in the past, when archaeologists were mostly British aristocrats who sat on their verandas and had indigenous people brought to them to interrogate, but that was a long time ago, thank geraniums.

Anthropological method revolves around participant observation. They embed themselves within the cultures they are studying for years at a time to get as close to an inside perspective as possible. (This can't be done perfectly, but we try really hard!) Archaeologists, obviously, can't do participant observation, but they get as close as they can by trying to fully understand a vast number of threads of culture interwoven among the people and places they are researching.

Part of what some archaeologists do is called experimental archaeology. They try to think of how and why various things could be made or used, and then they try to replicate those methods. Success isn't proof that that's how things were done, but at least it verifies that they *could* have been done that way. The Youtube video showing someone knitting with a dodecahedron is a beautiful example of this kind of experimental method! It's really cool!

Part of that process of figuring out how things *could* have been done is listening to people in the present who do things or use things related to the historical or prehistorical stuff that the archaeologists are studying. Archaeologists who aren't arrogant adherents to a vanishing ideology of Western imperialism (and there really don't seem to be many of those left anymore, thank heavens) have a huge amount of respect for the lived experience of others and do their best to incorporate such experience in their work. That would include anybody with skills that might be related to the objects they are studying, even if they are from different cultures. The person using the dodecahedron to knit would certainly fit that description, and I'm sure that archaeologists whose area this is are familiar with the suggestion. A lot of anthropologists even talk about the people they work with not as "subjects" or similar, but as collaborators or coauthors. It's the people who the anthropologists are working with who know this shit: we're just trying to understand as best we can and share that understanding with others.

I'm not bothered by the suggestion that these were used for knitting. I'm bothered by the implication that knitting is *clearly* what these were for and that academics don't know what they're doing and wouldn't consider asking anybody else for help. That is the opposite of the way that good academics work. I'm bothered by the implication that academics lack some kind of "common sense" that would provide an easy answer to their questions if they would get their head out of the clouds, learn some humility, and ask everyday people. That is also not how the academic process of learning and discovery works.
The thing about the Youtube video "proving" the actual use of these things reminds me a little bit of Thor Heyerdahl and the Kon-Tiki. Was Thor Heyerdahl able to sail an unpowered raft from South America to Polynesia? Sure. Does that prove that Polynesians were descendants of South American people? Not at all.
There's a discussion here about these dodecahedrons and their uses. I tend to agree that, based on the rarity and complexity of the devices, use as a knitting form doesn't seem to fit the data, but nothing else really fits the data either. Culture is super complicated.

https://www.reddit.com/r/badhistory/comments/gzrmwk/in_which_the_galloroman_dodecahedra_are_used_for/
There's a particularly relevant thread in this discussion where people are discussing *exactly* my problem with this kind of meme. Here's an excerpt:

"Woke anti-intellectualism" is a really weird trend and historians always seem to be the ones targeted.
I'm sure there is still a problem of historians discounting the possibility that an artifact could have a traditionally feminine function, or that two women buried together could have been lovers rather than sisters, but so much literature since the 70s has been all about correcting these blindspots."
One person in that thread pointed out:

"The internet really doesn't help since a lot of the up to date material is behind paywalls while older stuff is often easier to access. Meaning that people either see the old racist, sexist etc. stuff or they get to the criticism of that but not anything newer not realizing that it has been incorporated into the discipline for decades."

And I think that's certainly part of the problem. People in general have an outdated idea of what humanities researchers think and do, and it's really hard to communicate the updates. I mean, Miriam's dad told me that it was a "historical fact" that indigenous North Americans had no widespread systems of government that could be called nations. That is fundamentally wrong, but it's what a lot of the older adult population was being taught in school. Even if they have personally gotten past those false ideas, they don't necessarily know that the systems that put those ideas in their head have similarly moved on. There has been so much work in every field in the humanities, reexamining things from feminist perspectives, queer perspectives, disabled perspectives, minority perspectives. Even in the library science program I was doing, these perspectives that intentionally de-center white male Western abled cishet perspectives are present and powerful. The humanities has really changed over the past decades!

So I want to be a part of spreading that knowledge. The current generation, and probably even most of the previous generation, of anthropologists do not think like this anymore. We really do care about the people we are working with and learning about. We really do listen to their life experiences and do our best to respectfully understand and share them. We certainly don't think we know everything. It was made very clear to me, in my anthropology degree, that when I'm working with a culture I don't know, I know *nothing.*
I hope what I'm saying makes sense and that, again, I don't sound angry. I just feel like this kind of meme is part of a sort of insidious anti-intellectualism, and there's just too much of that in the air these days for me to not say something about it.
stormdog: (floyd)
A couple paragraphs I wrote elsewhere in response to a discussion of politics (and a lengthy expansion of those thoughts):

"I'm frustrated with myself that it's so hard for me to try to rationally engage with people who are right-leaning politically. Understanding and respecting alternate systems of understanding, recognizing their internal validity and engaging them in ways that make sense not to 'me' but to 'them' is the very core of my undergraduate degree.

Hurtful language and petty attacks are counter-productive, but oftentimes these days, it's all I'm capable of. So I stay largely out of the discussion. I feel like I'm failing at politics."

My therapist asked what it was that kicked my legs out from under me in Syracuse. There were a few things that reinforced each other. One is that I have lost the belief that I have a chance of having an effect on society; of making it better. Because of that, so many things I was fascinated by because they were important to me as part of understanding how to do that are just depressing. Rather than being motivated to thoroughly understand systemic inequalities in urban geography, they just make me want to cry. Geographers and anthropologists and others have been talking about ways to make things better for decades, but the ears of the dominant paradigm are deaf to them.

The ruined buildings and blighted urban landscapes that, as objects of fascination for me, led me to photography and school and art and anthropology and geography, are also symptoms of that dominant paradigm's disregard. They are still history and the passage of time made manifest; that was what I hoped to convey in my photography. But their meaning as the chewed-up and spat-out leavings of a seemingly inescapable and deeply discriminatory system overshadows their other meanings.

Artistically, I'm still fascinated with the thought of how a space is made and unmade. When does a space become a place? When does it unbecome? When is a room no longer a room, as its doors and windows and ceilings and walls slowly rot away? I'm drawn to that kind of liminality in ways I can't explain. But that making and unmaking does not occur in a vacuum; it is part of the making and unmaking of communities, and livelihoods.

Divorced from that context, it is apt to call images of Detroit's burned out houses or Gary's empty church 'ruin porn.' It's an empty aesthetic that provides a thrill disconnected from the reality of the subject's life. "I love Brutalist architecture!" I excitedly commented in an online discussion. "You don't have to live and work in it," one person responded. In Detroit, a woman approached me to ask why I was photographing a crumbling stone house with a sagging roof. "It has a kind of beauty," I said, somewhat self-consciously. "Ain't nothin' beautiful here," was her sharp response.

The more I've thought about those exchanges, the more photography of ruins feels like a kind of exploitation; converting someone else's miserable day-to-day existence into some pretty pictures to show to other people to evoke some sense of authenticity and wonder. "I was there! I saw this myself and I am sharing it with you!" What does my brief passage through the place really teach me about its nature and its place in the lives of people for whom is is part of their everyday world? How much less does my self-conscious abstraction of that experience into a few photos show someone who looks at my photos? It's hard to think of a more inauthentic way to experience a place.

It's not documentary work with some redeeming intent to communicate what these places are like. That's been done, and claiming that's my intent without doing the very real and extensive work necessary to contextualize what I'm producing is a poor excuse. If anything, it has the opposite effect, abstracting real, living places into mysterious empty landscapes of decay and ruin that contribute to unfounded apprehension of cities, the very places I feel are the best way for vast numbers of people to live on Earth.

I...think I've lost my thread. I was writing about geography and ineffectiveness.

The study of urban geography makes clear that, just as these ruined landscapes are a result of the destruction part of the engine of creative destruction that powers the economic redistribution system of post-Fordist capitalism, their reconstruction is a result of the creative part of that same engine. When buildings are created or revitalized, when infrastructure like highways and rail transit are constructed, it doesn't matter who the metaphorical architects of such plans claim will benefit from them; the real winners are those who have the means to invest in their creation and the real losers are those who do not have the means to avoid the consequences of significant and irreversible change to their landscape. Everything I read in my urban social justice class (with the possible exception of that damned inscrutable book by Henri LeFebvre that I wanted to pitch into Onondaga Lake) pointed to that conclusion. Some of the best minds in geography and progressive academia can't figure this shit out; what can I do?

I don't want to feel so ineffective and helpless. But I do.

I also don't want to see random pictures of dying places anymore. I don't want to produce more of them myself. If I produce more urban photography, I want to make images of living systems. Working infrastructure that shows how deeply interconnected we all are. How many ways we all work with and for each other. How we all cooperate, consciously or unconsciously to create these beautiful, ridiculously complex, heart-achingly imperfect yet deeply optimistic engines of assault against entropy called cities. (Is that even what cities are anymore, or is it just a side-effect?)

But I don't know how to do that either.

In the meantime, right now, I'm conducting my own tiny fight against entropy as I work to repair my VTVM. For now, as I slowly work out where to go from here, that will do.

CSAS

Apr. 10th, 2015 10:35 am
stormdog: (Tawas dog)
I don't have a whole lot of time to write this weekend. But I just saw a presentation on changing presentations of gender roles and sexual orientation through the lens of forty years of Kirk/Spock slash.

Plus a paper looking at self-organizing structures within egalitarian societies as shown through the events of Twitch Plays Pokemon.

I like anthropologists.

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stormdog: a woman with light skin and long brown hair that cascades over one shoulder. On her other side, she is holding a large plush shark against herself. She has pink fingernails and pink cat eye glasses (Default)
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