In 2018, two new poster series colorfully bursting with depictions of urbanites in extremis appeared on Shanghai’s subways. They advertise competing mobile phone apps that allow users to check out suppliers, buyers, investment companies, and potential employers to suss out the likelihood of being cheated by them.
I have a quite uncomfortable visceral reaction when I am asked to speak to how I experience anthropology—and the academy more broadly—as a Black woman. I resent the feeling that the questioner believes that they know the answer before they ask—that they are actually looking for some kind of confirmation of their belief in the promise that a change is gon’ come, within the reality that it ain’t here yet.
In much of the Global South, biomedical markets have been flooded by a massive proliferation of counterfeit pharmaceuticals. The World Health Organization identifies Sub-Saharan Africa as the region most affected by this development, with estimates of drugs thought to be fake ranging from 30–60 percent.
Anthropology is no stranger to political attacks. In the United States in 2011, Florida Governor Rick Scott argued that there was no need for more anthropologists in the state. He said he wanted to spend taxpayers’ dollars giving people science, technology, engineering, and math degrees. Ironically, his own daughter studied anthropology. We remember too well the closing of the anthropology departments at Howard University and before that at Allegheny College. Both budget cuts and shutting down individual departments are painful, and often harmful to anthropology, but erasing the whole discipline?
For attendees of the AAA Annual Meeting in San José, the reference to smoke is apropos. We all saw and felt the cloud of nearby disaster. Smoke is a cloud, dimming vision and making it hard to breathe deeply. How was it possible to pass from venue to venue, and session to business meeting to roundtable with that cloud hanging over us all?
The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love.” When I first encountered this Peace Corps motto as a child in the 1970s, I could not have known that I would join Peace Corps in Armenia, or that the country’s people would make such an impression that I would return there twenty-five years later. Going back to Armenia recently has led me to reflect on my experiences, on the value of Peace Corps, and on anthropological goals.
The Society for Visual Anthropology is pleased to announce that this year’s recipient of the John Collier Jr. Award for Excellence in the Use of Still Photography 2018 will be awarded to Monrovia Modern:Urban Form and Political Imagination in Liberia by Danny Hoffman during the American Anthropology Association Annual Meeting at the SVA Business Meeting on Thursday, November 15.
Timelessness is cruel because it is dehumanizing. As a mad anthropologist who researches madness, I have spent considerable time tackling timelessness. Timelessness is the name I have given to a phenomenon many researchers have witnessed among people experiencing madness—a broad experience of extranormativity that is predominantly defined and addressed as mental illness in the United States.
Why is the base of the statue so fascinating for these American teachers, and why did the graduate student find the story interesting enough to share in the first place? Echoes of the Korean War adorn the landscapes of Seoul and South Korea, some more spectacular like the De-Militarized Zone, but most just ordinary sites akin to the statue’s base.
Earlier this year, journalist Wayne Ma published an article in the Wall Street Journal titled “Marriott Employee Roy Jones Hit ‘Like.’ Then China Got Mad.” This title is important because it could be an equation for any number of articles on Chinese geopolitics in the digital era.