Ranthropologist

Author: Ranthropologist

  • Check Out My New iShell!

    Check Out My New iShell!

    In my cultural anthropology class, I show a film called “First Contact” that details the first encounter of a highland New Guinea tribe with outsiders. The contact occurred sometime in the 1940s, and was between the tribe and a group of white Australian gold prospectors. The prospectors found the gold they were looking for in the highlands, and employed the native people to help them mine it. They paid the natives with shells, which the Australians brought with them by the hundreds, purchased for only a few dollars on the coast. In return, the Australians took the gold nuggets that the natives helped them mine from the interior rivers.

    My students, in reaction to this film, often point out the unfairness of the Australians taking away the natives’ gold. To this, I ask them to explain why it is unfair. “It’s gold!” they protest. “The natives are just getting worthless shells!” This is my opportunity to point out that one man’s gold is another man’s worthless pebble. This amply and, often to the students, shockingly, drives home the point that the things to which we assign value are often completely arbitrary. But, the real point is made when I then discuss the value of the gold to the natives today. No longer do the people of the New Guinea highlands value shells – something that was exceedingly hard for them to come by pre-contact (hence their value). Today, if the Australians had told them of the value of the gold to the world outside their valley, those very same natives from 1940 and their descendants could be much better off than they are now. But, the Australians conveniently – and deliberately, I have no doubt – continued to pay the natives in the shell currency they valued, along with items such as cloth and steel tools, all the while concealing the fact that just a few of the “worthless” gold nuggets they were hauling away could have kept the tribespeople in shells, cloth, and axes for generations to come.

    Today we live in a world where we still value arbitrary things. Just witness the explosion in businesses that will buy “your old gold jewelry, fillings, and coins!” Gold is worth more than ever, but at its base it is still just a shiny rock. Even more bizarre, when you really stop to think about it, is the fact that some of the arbitrary things to which we assign value are themselves simply symbols – abstractions that represent something else just as abstract. What I mean is that we value the symbolic signs of wealth: the brand name, the label, the job title, the very size of the LCD-HDTV screen. Is it really the car we value, or the shiny medallion that graces its hood? Is a flat screen LCD TV worth as much to us, symbolically, if it says, maybe, “BOB BOBSON ELECTRONICS” along the bottom instead of SONY? “I have the latest iPhone. Check out all my apps!” a friend may brag. A no-name phone still places and receives calls, probably has apps of its own, but if it’s not an iPhone or related high-status device, how does that affect its symbolic value? It’s no secret that marketers know this and capitalize on it for all it’s worth… and it’s also no secret that even if you know it, you’ll probably still fall for it.

    So what does value all come down to in the end? How much of what we value is based on want vs. need? All we really need, down to the bare bones, is food, water, shelter, and (I would argue) companionship. But what we want has, in many ways, also become what we need. Value translates into status – the status that comes from having the most and the biggest shells, or the most gold nuggets, or the biggest screen. Nothing has really changed – it’s only the arbitrary markers of what constitutes status today that have shifted.

  • Be Good, For Goodness’ Sake

    Be Good, For Goodness’ Sake

    There’s something chilling about the lines of the classic Christmas song, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good SO BE GOOD, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE. Creepy. Funny thing is, if you substitute Jesus for Santa Claus, this song becomes a rollicking hosanna to the return of the Son of God: You better not shout, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why! Jesus Christ is comin’ to town! He’s makin’ a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice, Jesus Christ is comin’ to town! Um, okay. Instead of presents, Jesus’ naughty or nice list lets you know who gets into heaven. How are these two things different? Well I’m here to tell ya: early in their lives, children learn the truth about Santa: he’s all made up. As for Jesus, they get told that he’s real, oh yes indeedy, and you’d better be good FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! But I ask you: what’s the difference?

    Those of you who know me probably aren’t the least bit surprised by the foregoing. We tell children that Santa is a story, but we don’t say the same about Jesus, and for some reason the kids buy it. I honestly think Santa is more convincing; I mean, aren’t the presents there as real evidence of Santa’s visit? Where are the presents from Jesus? Real presents, that is; not the dangling carrot of the present of eternal salvation (whatever that means). And of course, some of the more manipulative practitioners of the Jesus myth will find ways to explain that Christ’s presents are of a more spiritual nature. Heaven is the ultimate present, and you’d better stay off JC’s naughty list if you want to get there.

    Hypocrisy. Lies and hypocrisy. The truth is that the most important line in the song is “be good, for goodness’ sake.” Let me reiterate: FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE. Not for God’s sake, or Christ’s sake, or Buddha’s or Vishnu’s or Odin’s or whomever your anthropomorphic spiritual guide may be. Be good, because it’s the right thing to do. Be good, because humankind has developed rules, over eons of evolution and cultural development, for how to best get along with one another. Be good, because most of those rules apply cross-culturally, and can be summed up in the rule that as you would have done to you, so you should do to others. This rule exists, in one form or another, in every culture in the world. It is not based on religion or God or spirits or the supernatural; on the contrary, the rules came first, and the religions came later. Be good, because our survival NOW, not in some imaginary afterworld, depends on it. Ask yourself: do I do good because I am afraid of God’s punishment or going to Hell, or because it’s the right thing to do? Ask any atheist, and you’ll get your answer. You don’t need God to be good; you just need goodness. So, be good, for goodness’ sake.

  • Communication Pandemic

    Communication Pandemic

    As an anthropologist, I have been trained to ask, and attempt to answer, questions about human behavior. As a cultural anthropologist, my methods involve participant observation to gather the data needed to start formulating an analysis. This all sounds very dry, but in layman’s terms all it really boils down to is that I am a professional people-watcher. I became an anthropologist because I thought it would be bitchin’ to make a career out of finding answers to the questions that fascinate me. Even better, I get to teach others how to answer their own questions about why people do what they do, and open their eyes to new ways of trying to answer those questions.

    So, this week the musings of the skeptical anthropologist are focused on communicative strategies and how they are changing. Or, to put it in a more entertaining way, what the hell are people thinking sometimes when they open their mouths? Or, even more so these days, when they e-mail/post/Twitter/link/YouTube/Flickr? What are we really trying to accomplish with all these new ways of communicating?

    I find that there is a fascinating blend of potential motivations in what people do with the new instant-communication technologies at our fingertips. The cell phone camera/video/e-mail/upload capabilities have given us the ability to reveal ourselves and our lives in some shockingly exhibitionist ways… and some coma-inducingly boring ways, too. And, the variety of emotions we can express! I know I’m not saying anything new here, but the anonymity the internet can afford (but that actually seems less and less anonymous each day) allows people to be astonishingly raw.

    So what’s my hypothesis? I haven’t settled on anything concrete yet, but I am attempting to formulate some ideas based on status-seeking behavior, and ultimately (as always with me) evolutionarily adaptive behaviors. To wit: on a venue such as Facebook, there seems to be a great deal of “look at how clever/cool/witty/educated I am” sorts of posts. There are also many “look at how virtuous/healthy/creative/thoughtful I am” posts. These posts, I need not remind, are not anonymous. Who wouldn’t want to take credit for “Just made a delicious risotto with truffle oil and chanterelle mushrooms”? Who, exactly, are we trying to impress? Facebook is also a simple way to keep friends up to date on your life, and most people seem to use it that way, but for how many is this an opportunity, however unconscious, to simply brag? And, how much of what we post is actually reflective of the life we are trying to project?

    On the opposite side of that coin are anonymous posters, such as those who lurk at the San Diego Union-Tribune website. The amount of vitriol that drips from some of these posts is simply boggling. And along with the vitriol is just plain ol’ racism, sexism, and one of my favorites, stupidity. But the point is that, for the most part, people won’t flame each other on Facebook, but they will easily descend to the level of playground bullies on anonymous comment boards. No surprise there, but I can’t help wondering how many of these folks are the same as the ones posting about the truffle risotto.

    Yet another area of fascination is the YouTube phenomenon. This came disgustingly home for me when my little cousin linked to a graphic video of… wait for it… a guy letting his girlfriend LANCE A BOIL on his back. There is no attempt to disguise the face of said guy, and he knows he is being filmed, and I assume he approved of having the video posted online. And yes, I watched it, in all its blood- and pus-spurting glory (which brings up another topic of fascination for me, which is our primate urge to groom each other… but I’ll save that for another post!).

    What does all this new technology, these novel (but not for long) communicative strategies, mean for us and our behavior? How do we know what to trust? How do we know what to say? What will be the limits, if any, on what we will reveal? How long will it be before all this availability, visibility, and downright exhibitionism festers into its own cultural boil and pops? Or will we simply adapt, as we have for so long?

    An even better question, for me personally: what makes me think anybody is interested in what I have to say in this blog (besides my mom – awww, thanks Ma!)? Hmmm… the musings continue.

  • Center of the Universe

    Center of the Universe

    Lately I have been reading some things in the news about a disturbing increase in narcissism among young people, those of high school and college age in particular. This phenomenon is being linked to a variety of things, such as the proliferation of social networking websites, the drastic increase in instant communication technologies, and too much emphasis on self-esteem building by today’s parents. I tend to agree that an excess of narcissism is probably a bad thing. But it got me to thinking about the opposite phenomenon, as well; that is, the common feeling that one is simply a tiny, inconsequential speck in a vast and uncaring universe. My reaction to that is, simply: bullshit. Are we not all the centers of our very own universes? Is there something inherently bad about caring about our own lives and experiences? Is it wrong to be unhappy about the things we don’t like, just because someone, somewhere else, might have it worse? I am reminded of the classic parental guilt trap used to get children to clean their plates: “Don’t you know there are starving children in (insert generation-appropriate geographic region here)?” For me, it was Africa. My response? “Whether or not I eat my liver-frosted flakes, the starving kids in Africa aren’t going to get them.” (My dad used to tease Hilary and me with imaginary unsavory meal threats, liver-frosted flakes being a favorite. We were also terrorized with the horrifying possibility of liver-filled donuts). In any case, there is nothing wrong with keeping a little perspective; after all, unless you are extraordinarily unlucky, there is always someone, somewhere, who has it worse than you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be pissed about whatever bad experience you are having. If I have a broken toe, don’t tell me, “You know, it could be worse. You could have a gangrenous toe that has to be amputated, but the infection isn’t contained, and it spreads up your leg to your face and renders you hideously disfigured. That’ll learn you! Now quitcher complaining, ya big baby!”

    All that being said, there are definitely some people who are the center of the universe in a very unhealthy way. The thing about a universe is, it’s full of other stuff. You may be the big star, but you are surrounded by planets, moons, constellations of other stars, random space junk, even vast alien worlds (cue Ren & Stimpy “Space Madness” quotes)… and what you do may have an affect on those other parts of your particular universe. If you don’t take care of the whole universe, not just the center, there could be a huge destructive supernova, or a life-sucking black hole, and nobody wants that.

    So. I address this to the universal catastrophes out there: you are not that important. This is for the black hole in the BMW yesterday who zoomed up Poway Road in the break-down lane to get around a truck, just so you could make it to the light at the top a whole thirty seconds faster. This is for the supernova at Albertson’s, who left your dog in the car in 104 degree heat, just because it was too inconvenient to take him home before you stopped for groceries. This is for the asteroid collision who has to take that important call or send that life-altering text message while out to dinner with your children. This is even for the minor meteor-showers of people who leave their carts in the parking space because they don’t want to walk 40 extra feet to the cart rack, or the co-workers who don’t rinse their coffee cup until it grows a vast alien world that colonizes the break-room sink. You may be the center of your own little universe, but don’t forget that we all live in a multiverse, and what you do in yours is NOT more important than what I do in mine, especially if destruction in yours might cause collateral damage in mine. Ask yourself, honestly: is it worth it? Is it worth it, BMW black hole, to risk your life and the life of others to save a few seconds? Is it worth it, Albertson’s supernova, to injure or kill your dog for a few quick groceries? Is it worth it, cell phone asteroid collision, to alienate your friends and family for instant communication we can all live without? And for the minor asteroid showers, is it worth it to be a self-centered ass-wipe?

    Don’t get me wrong, folks. I know that I, too, have plenty of ass-wipe moments, and that sometimes my sense of my universe doesn’t allow for any acknowledgment of other worlds. We are all narcissists at heart. But I think we all need to start consciously asking ourselves to be aware of others and to have some much-needed perspective, to slow down, to take it easy, to turn off the TV and pick up a book, to stick to the speed limit, to write a letter or have a face-to-face conversation, to allow ourselves to find a happy medium between black hole self-centeredness and tiny speck meaninglessness.

  • Finals week

    Finals week

    This week is finals week at school. I have the exam ready for Tuesday’s class, and only need to make a few tweaks to Thursday’s exam before it, too, is ready to go. I have mixed feelings at the end of the semester because I am sad to see another crop of students go on their way, but I am also glad to get a break from having to stand in front of 40 people and educate and entertain (edutain?) them for three hours twice a week for sixteen weeks.

    I have now been teaching at CSUSM for three years, and I still love just about every minute of it. Now, don’t take this the wrong way, because I certainly appreciate the extra money, but I would do this for free. Part of the reason I love teaching so much is purely selfish: I like being at the front of the classroom, I like the feeling of power – and responsibility – that comes from introducing the students to new ideas, I enjoy the attention and the accolades. But, the real reason I love teaching is because of the look I sometimes see on their faces when contemplating a new idea for the first time: the look of dawning comprehension, or joyous understanding, or best of all, the emphatic nods of agreement when a student realizes that something they had already thought of, on their own, is being confirmed by what they are learning in class. Sometimes students have come to me to tell me that my class is the first time they have ever heard a teacher give voice to some of their own ideas about the world, and the people in it. This is one of the greatest things about anthropology: it is an ideal vehicle for introducing people to new ways of thinking and understanding – not just about so-called exotic cultures, but about the students’ own culture(s).

    I am fully aware of how powerful my position is in front of the classroom. My classes are generally heavily weighted towards freshmen students, and I try to tread delicately as I introduce them to concepts and ways of thinking to which they may not yet have been exposed. I know that this is probably the only anthropology class they will ever take (although I have had repeat students, since I teach two different classes). I just leave each semester hoping that I have taught these students something worthwhile – something beyond just random factoids about other ways of life. I hope they remember to be skeptical, think critically, withhold judgment, be objective, and have a healthy respect for that which is different without succumbing to moral relativity, all while making rational decisions about how to navigate our rapidly changing world in an ethical way. Heh – I don’t want much from them, do I? And I certainly am not arrogant enough to think I can teach them all those things… but I do what I can, and I am grateful for the opportunity.

  • Less Than Perfect

    Less Than Perfect

    Lately I have been musing about how people define their terms. A long time ago, I read somewhere that most arguments boil down to differences in how people define things. That simple concept has always stuck with me, and I have often found it to be the case in arguments I have been a part of. Of course, having that perspective does not always solve the argument, because people can cling pretty ferociously to their personal definitions. At that point the argument often distills into a debate over whose definition is more accurate. I strive to be very specific in defining my terms when getting into an argument, so that the real issue at hand can be addressed. It is always gratifying when the argument is solved by acknowledging differing terminologies.

    Let’s bring this discussion into focus with a specific example. Today I saw a bumper sticker that said “Next time you think you’re perfect, try walking on water.” Given the opportunity, I would have asked the driver of the car how he or she defined “perfect.” Perfection, in my definition, is attainable. You can bake a perfect cake, or turn a perfect cartwheel, or find the perfect gift for someone. Perhaps this could be considered a sort of proletarian definition of the concept, but certainly I am not the only one who uses it in this way. As for the bumper sticker, it got me thinking about the nature of perfection. Since when does perfection include the ability to perform supernatural acts? I believe that there is no such thing as the supernatural or the paranormal – there is only the natural and the normal, and things we haven’t explained yet. Given that walking on water is humanly impossible, how can that enter into the definition of perfection? Of course the logical conclusion is that perfection is also humanly impossible, hence the unspoken but clear context of the sticker: Only God/Jesus is perfect, and don’t you forget it, you flawed sinner you! This goes back to an old post on LiveJournal when I ranted about a different, but related, bumper sticker. What gives with people and the religious blame game? I’d like to define my terms: human beings can be perfect. We came up with the whole concept of perfect. We also invented the hocus pocus that positioned god/gods as the frame of reference for perfection (and incidentally gave us an out to explain all those “paranormal” and “supernatural” phenomena, such as, say, lightning, for which we had yet to find a natural explanation). Well, I have decided to reclaim the definition of perfection. You don’t have to walk on water to be perfect; you only have to do the absolute best that you can with what you are given, with the circumstances in which you find yourself, in your relationships with other people, and with your life in general, and those moments of perfect will happen.