Recently there has been a lot of bioanthropology buzz about
sexual harassment and assault in “the field”, the diverse, global settings in which professional anthropologists of various types, and their students, do their research. This comes at present on the heels of a brief presentation at the recent American Association of
Physical Anthropology (AAPA) 2013 meeting, in which a speaker presented results of a
rather informal survey poll in which respondents reported various degrees of sexual harassment, ranging from relatively informal intimidating to true assault. Regardless of the details, the results show that these issues are alive and well in Anthropology.
Of course lots of people have lots of
opinions about such things, and sexual attractions and behaviors have many subtle nuances and misperceptions, as do other aspects of the ethics of working in field sites with a hierarchical authority structure, international collaborators and hosts, and so on. But what was not part of the presentation, and what seems not really to have resulted so far is some form of realistic call to
action that might be implemented. Perhaps the action will follow
the shock and anger, but that isn’t a given.
And while this topic isn’t anything new, (see the post and figure
here or the blog post here),
it does lead one to think about a few things in new ways.
For example, my first thought when hearing about the
presentation at the AAPA meetings was: Well, this type of thing also happens right
here in the ivory tower – so of course it happens out there (in “the field”),
too. Abuse (not just sexual in nature)
occurs in households, churches, schools, neighborhoods; it happens anywhere
that there are people who are vulnerable to being abused. Having spent the last several years around
Penn State, with our Sandusky child-abuse scandal, this is painfully obvious.
Do these types of things occur more frequently in the sometimes isolated settings of “the
field”? I don’t really know, and the
types of self-reporting web-based surveys being used aren’t going to tell us that with any easily knowable precision, at least not from a
statistical standpoint. However, I do a
fair share of fieldwork and I do see how things can get strange rather
quickly. Some people behave more poorly
than normal when they are away from authority figures. Furthermore, different cultures have
different norms, ascribe different meanings to different body language, and
people who don’t belong to those cultures can quickly get lost in the
midst. Not everyone has, much less understands, the same rules of conduct,
Perhaps, however, the University is a place where these
types of things happen more frequently than in other places. Fiduciary relationships are commonly barred
in work settings outside of academia. I
would argue with reason too. There are
lots of reasons why the boss shouldn’t be sleeping with the employees:
including favoritism, exploitative relationships, and the ever present
potential for things to go too far in an unprofessional work place setting. But these rules aren’t always present in
academia. Many universities do not have
rules barring professors from sleeping with their students. Even in places where there are rules, those
rules are likely to be different with regard to graduate students. And that is where I think things get really
tricky. Of course a graduate student
could develop genuine romantic feelings for a professor and vice versa. But with the HUGE power differential in place
between student and professor, I think the chances for things to quickly go wrong,
most likely with untoward consequences for the student, are too great.
Now, back to “the field”, and I don’t mean the field of
Anthropology, I mean... actually, what is meant by “the field”? Is it only the place where I collect my
data? Can I do some analysis and even
write a paper there too? Is my field someone else’s home? (For a lot
of anthropologists, and their local collaborators, students, or work-hands, yes, it is). And if
my field is someone else’s home, then what does that mean with regard to all of
these issues? I’ve seen enough Americans
acting ridiculously while abroad to know that ethical issues go both ways.
I’ll close by suggesting that we should be active in fixing
this, at least to the extent that we can in the context of a society (our own) in which
sexual harassment and abuse are all too common.
I’m not the expert, but perhaps as a group, Anthropologists and other
scientists can be. I see answers to
these issues as being broadly split into two main foci: one looking at victims
(those who could be or already are) and one looking at the aggressors. I am sure others can imagine additional ways
to address the problem, but here at least is a start.
From a victim standpoint, we could:
1.) Look at ways of reducing danger when possible. My introduction to fieldwork was something akin to baptism by fire and I have a feeling it is the same for many others. Perhaps training prior to actually doing fieldwork should be required (but by who?) Real or fictional stories could be presented to students about to begin fieldwork. We can’t delve into blaming victims here, but many times you can be your most reliable part of the equation. It’s not always possible to control your surroundings and settings, but constantly being aware could at least sometimes help.
2.) Make it relatively easy and painless for people who are being mistreated to report it. This can be a real obstacle. Sometimes groups of people, even prominent institutions, make it hard on victims to speak out. Sometimes speaking out jeopardizes an entire project or at least the reporter's involvement in it. If we care about fixing this problem, we’ve got to make this step less intimidating, and ensure that victims are a priority. Furthermore, institutional legal help should be geared toward helping victims seek retribution rather than covering legal butts. (I know, I know – wishful thinking. But while I’m making a wish list…)
From the aggressor standpoint:
1.) Sometimes bad situations can arise simply out of poorly managed operations. We should start with the assumption that people don’t want to be jerks, and perhaps give faculty who are leading field teams the training they need in order to avoid harmful situations for them and their students. Perhaps a code of ethics that addresses these sorts of issues should be a mandatory aspect of NSF and NIH grant proposals. Perhaps our universities and professional affiliations should take an active role too.
2.) We need ways to harshly punish perpetrators of abuse, and the teeth must be large, sharp and jagged. Grants should be at stake, as should professional reputations, academic positions, tenure, and pay.
3.) Furthermore, not all perpetrators are affiliates of our universities. Some are residents of our “field” sites, etc. It is perhaps even more difficult to find ways of policing their action, since they are likely to be under different laws and institutional rules. However, I would argue that grant money, or more accurately, the threat of losing grant money, can go a long way.
It’s true that these issues aren’t confined to Anthropology,
or to field sites, but that doesn’t mean that the field shouldn’t recognize
that there is a problem, and work on ways to address it. You might think that students, being
dependent on mentors and pretty much powerless in the academic hierarchy, are
exactly the wrong people to address this.
But we’re also the ones with a lot to lose if we don’t.
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This post was contributed to by Dan, Anne and Ken. Also, thanks to several others for thoughtful insights and conversations, including faculty in the Department of Anthropology (PSU) and Jessica Westin.
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This post was contributed to by Dan, Anne and Ken. Also, thanks to several others for thoughtful insights and conversations, including faculty in the Department of Anthropology (PSU) and Jessica Westin.
