Unwelcome Criticism I

ABSTRACT:
This dialogue (see below) is a rough metaphor for the general pattern of how minority "crazy" beliefs come to be accepted by the larger academic community.The hegemony of established theories and "facts" make it very difficult just to get anyone of power to "lend you their ears". Add unconventional theories on to academia's competition, and it seems as much a miracle as a triumph of reason. I shall have an uphill battle, no doubt.

In Anthropology, the universal approach to the study of "cultures" is not that of objectivity per se, but more specifically the assumption that all ways of life, are equal. All cultures are to try to be understood on their own terms, because that's really the only way they'll make any sense. Implied in this approach is the assumption of human rationality--people make rational decisions and logical calculations...Cultural relativism is awesome; the issue I have with this kind of relativism is not in the soundness of the theory, but in the reasonableness of its application. Relativism is an excellent tool of methodology when studying other cultures. If all our research is conducted with the tentative assumption that their social structure "works", that their practices "make sense" in context, then we will produce a coherent and maximally objective synthesis of information.  But if your family or friends express disgust or hostility toward the foreign customs and beliefs you explain to them over dinner, do you rebuke them in the name of relativism, try to change the subject, or maybe nod in agreement?  

"Who is to say this is wrong?", snaps the Moral Relativist. "Who are you to say what they should and should not believe; who are you to judge the reasonableness of their judgments or morality of their institutions?" Relativism is his replacement for religion, despite his allegiance to secularism... But I am no Moral Relativist, I am a Christian, and I have no problem explaining universal morality across cultures to my future children. I am comfortable with dinner-table value judgments. 

But let's consider a heresy against cultural relativism as a guiding principle: Some social structures, institutions, and practices are more successful than others at accomplishing their task. Anyone who dabbles in politics and has at least roughly formed ideologies about how government should be structured and what place it should have in the life of a citizen should recognize this truth. But it doesn't just apply to the state, it applies to all aspects of social organization: All versions thereof vary in their efficacy of fulfilling a social need...Not all cultures are equal. 

Me: The sky is not blue.

You: What? Yeah...it IS.

Me: No, no it isn't. It's not blue.

You (confounded and irritated): Ye....what, what are you saying? This is ridiculous.

Me: I can prove it.

You: If you're going to go into some complicated scientific elaboration, I don't really care to hear it. The sky is blue, as far as everybody is concerned.

Me: Look up.

You: Look it up? Look up what? (whips out iPhone, thumb ready to prove me wrong)

Me: No, no LOOK UP!

You: ...Oh.. (cheeks flushed with embarrassment)

Me: So does that sky look blue to you?

You: (staring at the woolly gray blanket that cloaks the Northwest for several months out of the year) No. No, it's not blue.

Me: (smiles smugly)


This dialogue is a rough metaphor for the general pattern of how minority "crazy" beliefs come to be accepted by the larger academic community. Of course, there are a lot of fringe scholars that never do succeed in getting the main body of academics to look up and see that the sky is gray, partially (in my opinion) because they never insist on the rationality of their ideas. The hegemony of established theories and "facts" make it very difficult just to get anyone of power to "lend you their ears". The elite, the supreme theoreticians, the cream of the intellectual crop, are tucked away in ivory towers, where blasphemous cries are unlikely to be heard, and much less are welcome.

I know it sounds dramatic. But despite popular belief, academia is quite dramatic: crusades are begun, witch hunts carried out, feuds perpetuated. Great minds (well, at least they think they're great) spar--they write a book (or a lecture that becomes a smash hit on YouTube), and then write another after a retort is published, and then when they die they leave the next scholastic response to their favorite student.

All this to say, I doubt it's much easier to "make it" in highly competitive ivy-league universities than it is in Hollywood. Add unconventional theories on to that, and it seems as much a miracle as a triumph of reason. I shall have an uphill battle, no doubt.

I won't be too much of a grumbling hypocrite though, since I do realize the potential power free speech, particularly in cyberspace, really has. I'm going to exercise that free speech right here, with subsequent blasphemies against "Science" and "Progress" and the like to come in later posts.

Before I willfully desecrate a holy temple of modern Reason, specifically the temple of Relativism, let me just say...

 God bless America.

Oops, I think I just did.

The Temple of Relativism

In Anthropology, the universal approach to the study of "cultures" is not that of objectivity per se, but more specifically the assumption that all cultures, all ways of life, are equal. People don't do bad, they do different. They don't live worse, they live different. They don't think wrong, they think different. All cultures are to try to be understood on their own terms, because that's really the only way they'll make any sense. Implied in this approach is the assumption of human rationality--people make rational decisions and logical calculations; this can be evinced if we try to understand the perspective, the worldview, that shapes their motivations and consequently their actions within a given social framework.

Cultural relativism is awesome. Well, let me qualify. The issue I have with this kind of relativism is not in the soundness of the theory, but in the reasonableness of its application. I think relativism is an excellent tool of methodology when studying other cultures--it's the traction tires that keep us from sliding into the mire of ethnocentrism, and the consequent narrow-mindedness that develops from wading laboriously through an deep and endless valley of ideological muck. Besides, in my field evaluative statements, or "value judgments", are strictly prohibited. Even if we personally disapprove, we will never say it. All this is good, methodologically. If all our research is conducted with the tentative assumption that their social structure "works", that their practices "make sense" in context, then we will produce a coherent and maximally objective synthesis of information. 

But what happens when you go home at the end of the day and you're no longer an anthropologist, but a mother, no longer a scientist, but a role model and leader? If your family or friends express disgust or hostility toward the foreign customs and beliefs you explain to them over dinner, do you rebuke them in the name of relativism, try to change the subject, or even nod in agreement? 

I can tell you what those anthropologists who subscribe to not just cultural relativism, but moral relativism would do. (And many of them do; it's an intellectual virus on campus that is hard to escape.) They would rebuke their friends; "Who is to say this is wrong?", snaps the Relativist. "Who are you to say what they should and should not believe; who are you to judge the reasonableness of their judgments or morality of their institutions?" Relativism is their replacement for religion, despite their allegiance to secularism; their simple guidebook in the absence of a sacred text or god. (Ironically, it does become a sacred text--read God of the Journalists to see what I mean.)

I, however, live not by relativism but by faith, faith in a One True God and the goodness of his commandments. I have a sacred text that tells me right from wrong pretty clearly most of the time. So I am no Moral Relativist, and I have no problem explaining universal morality across cultures to my future children. I am comfortable with dinner-table value judgments. 

But let's set aside morality for just a second, and consider a heresy against cultural relativism as a guiding principle:

Some social structures, institutions, and practices are more successful than others at accomplishing their task.

I know. Mind-blowing. Scandalous. 

But let's really really think about this. Anyone who dabbles in politics and has at least roughly formed ideologies about how government should be structured and what place it should have in the life of a citizen should recognize this truth. But it doesn't just apply to the state, it applies to all aspects of social organization: marriage, kinship structure, economy, social hierarchy, gender relations, etc. All versions thereof vary in their efficacy of fulfilling a social need--the general task being to support the physical and emotional welfare of all individuals in a society. So if my first statement is true, it follows that, as far as fulfillment of social welfare is concerned,

Not all cultures are equal. 

Gasp! The horror!

This is How We Write a Title: A real title, since the preceding title doesn't make sense

ABSTRACT: 

As some of you may know, I will graduate the University of Washington in March with a B.A. in Cultural Anthropology, and some years from now I plan to get a Ph.D. in it. The heading of this post pokes fun at myself and other anthropologists: this is almost always how we title our papers, and in a way speaks to the characterization of anthropology itself. Anthropology is the study of mankind in all times and places, and it is the biggest part of my current studies. It consumes obscene amounts of my intellectual energy. Now to the meat of the matter. Being an anthropologist in the Social Science community is like being the Dr. Who nerd at a Star Trek convention. It's all sci-fi, but somehow you don't quite fit in with the rest of the group. I love being the Dr. Who nerd--not to denigrate the Trekkies, the Star Wars geeks, or the StarGate fans. It has occurred to me on more than one occasion that my choice in academic studies is ironic, and fitting... Certain connections can be drawn from anthropology and some aspects of my person...As someone who in many respects doesn't "fit in" quite as well as I could, I'm now normalized in the one Department that also doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the group. Today in class (Religion and World Politics with Professor Gill--I highly recommend it) anthropology was mischaracterized and criticized once again. I just laughed and shook my head; Isn't it just like an anthropologist to be misunderstood, I thought, when all we're trying to do is understand how these misrepresentations come about in the first place.

As some of you may know, I will graduate the University of Washington in March with a B.A. in Cultural Anthropology, and some years from now I plan to get a Ph.D. in it. Some of you other people might have just come back to my page after a Google search for the definition of anthropology, and are now even more confused.

The heading of this post pokes fun at myself and other anthropologists: this is almost always how we title our papers, and in a way speaks to the characterization of anthropology itself. My very first anthropology instructor, Dr. Fortenbery, offered a short and very broad definition, which is the only one (there are more than one, all hotly contested) that I'll give out as an explanation to those outside the discipline. Anthropology is the study of mankind in all times and places. This is perhaps the one definition that's so broad that no "armchair academic" can possibly criticize it. Ironically, anthropological discourse is admirable for its incredible specificity and nuance of definition and attention to detail: we don't write thesis sentences, we write thesis paragraphs. Perhaps I will discuss other definitions of anthropology in later posts, but here I want to talk about something clearly more interesting and important:

Me. Specifically in relation to my field of study. I'm only half-joking when I say this is more interesting and important; anthropology is the biggest part of my current studies, and consumes obscene amounts of my intellectual energy. It is the most common lens through which I photograph the world, or to use another metaphor, my favorite pen for writing out my observations. Naturally, this blog has an anthropological tone to much of its content, although it is not by any means a field journal or collection of academic papers. (I'm a person, too, and I have a personal opinion and attitude for pretty much everything. It will be clear when I transition between analytic and evaluative commentary.)

Now to the meat of the matter. Being an anthropologist in the Social Science community is like being the Dr. Who nerd at a Star Trek convention. It's all sci-fi, but somehow you don't quite fit in with the rest of the group. Like the Doctor, Anthropology has been reincarnated many times (and yet somehow its death is always foretold), and like anthropologists, the Doctor is curious and open-minded about all mankind (or I suppose in this case, sentient-kind) in all times and places, in all social situations. He's often content to observe. He often muses philosophically. He has no real home, and he is a loner. So it is with my beloved discipline.

I love being the Dr. Who nerd--not to denigrate the Trekkies, the Star Wars geeks, or the StarGate fans. Well, to be honest my relationship to Star Wars is quite analogous to my relationship to the "rival" discipline of Sociology. Like Star Wars, I think Sociology is overrated and over-cited in pop culture--"heroes" of Sociology litter every social science magazine, and the newspapers and cable shows, too. You can find as many sociologists in pop literature as you can Han Solo on lunchboxes. And like the cult-epic space story, it has ideological underpinnings which, as a social scientist who tries to look at things as objectively as possible, really really annoys me.

It has occurred to me on more than one occasion that my choice in academic studies is ironic, and fitting. Certain connections can be drawn from anthropology and some aspects of my person: I'm left-handed, so the conventional scissors (conventional social science, you might say) never really fit properly, and I've always had trouble finding a spot at the dinner table where I wouldn't accidentally elbow somebody in the ribs or knock their glass over. As a Christian and (mostly) a conservative, I am a minority as well. One time when I was little I wrote an illustrated children's book about feet. And so, as someone who in many respects doesn't "fit in" quite as well as I could, I'm now normalized in the one Department that also doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the group. Eager in its consumption of knowledge and somewhat excessive in its nonverbal communication, it elbows people at the table and knocks their glasses over. Without pause, it may then gesture to the fascinating pattern the wine has made on the tablecloth.

Today in class (Religion and World Politics with Professor Gill--I highly recommend it) anthropology was mischaracterized and criticized once again---it was the most egregious of insults---to have a certain idea about culture (a poor one, of course) mistakenly assigned to anthropology instead of sociology, the real culprit. I just laughed and shook my head; I didn't even bring the issue to the professor after class. Isn't it just like an anthropologist to be misunderstood, I thought, when all we're trying to do is understand how these misrepresentations come about in the first place.


~Georgi Boorman