Andi
Gomoll
10/29/09
Anthropology
Midterm
1)
Culture
is
a
way
to
make
sense
of
the
world
we
live
in.
It
allows
humans
to
survive—learning
what
we
are
and
why
we
do
the
things
we
do.
Culture
is
shared,
learned,
patterned,
and
adaptive.
It
spreads
across
disciplines,
engulfing
all
that
creates
humanity.
It
is
biological,
social,
economic,
lingual,
and
comparative.
The
understanding
and
study
of
culture,
and
its
various
perspectives,
complexities
and
limitations,
leads
to
a
better
understanding
of
the
human
condition.
By
studying
cultures
through
a
sympathetic
lens,
we
are
able
to
comprehend
them
as
coherent
and
meaningful
ways
to
live.
Utilizing
this
sympathy,
the
value
of
culture
in
the
anthropological
field
is
undeniable.
With
a
culturally
relative
approach,
we
are
able
to
understand
the
practices
and
functions
of
a
society
We,
as
humans
and
as
anthropologists,
can
understand
how
and
why
a
society
came
to
do
the
things
it
does,
and
how
this
inevitably
affects
the
way
we
perceive
our
own
societies
and
lives.
Anthropology,
and
the
study
of
culture,
is
holistic.
Complete
isolation
and
dissection
are
impossible.
The
whole
is
greater
than
the
sum
of
its
parts.
Human
beings
are
who
they
are
because
of
a
unique
mélange
of
genes,
culture
and
experience
that
cannot
be
reduced.
Cultural
traditions
too
are
greater
than
the
sum
of
their
parts.
They
are
accumulated
and
passed
on
over
time,
always
changing,
always
vulnerable
to
outside
influences.
They
are
not
contained
to
a
list
of
beliefs,
values
or
practices.
When
we
attempt
to
understand
a
culture,
there
is
no
rulebook
or
guide.
A
culture
cannot
be
defined.
This
is
where
the
complexities
and
limitations
of
the
study
of
culture
come
into
play.
When
a
culturally
relative
or
holistic
approach
is
not
taken
in
pursuit
of
understanding
a
culture,
the
consequences
can
be
grave.
As
human
rights
law,
ethnocentrism,
and
cultural
determinism
are
introduced
into
the
interpretation
of
cultural
practices,
narrow‐mindedness
often
results.
It
is
often
incorrectly
assumed
that
anthropologists
think
of
culture
as
an
unchanging
set
of
values.
The
anthropologist’s
use
of
cultural
relativity
is
often
misinterpreted
as
turning
a
blind
eye
toward
human
rights
and
seemingly
barbaric
practices.
The
controversial
practice
of
female
genital
cutting
in
Africa
is
an
example
of
this
misinterpretation.
The
anthropologist
seeks
to
understand
this
symbolic
and
ritual
act,
not
to
condone
or
promote
it.
Genital
cutting
may
be
condemned
by
human
rights
activists,
but
it
is
culturally
meaningful
and
accepted
rite
of
passage
and
symbol
of
fertility
and
purity
in
the
African
colonies
where
it
takes
place.
Though
it
involves
patriarchal
subordination,
the
ritual
is
a
potentially
empowering
act.
Analyzing
genital
cutting
in
relation
to
the
values
and
symbols
of
a
culture
makes
the
practice
comprehensible,
and
helps
the
anthropologist
to
understand
his
or
her
own
Western
cultural
practices.
For
example,
the
promotion
of
weight
loss
and
cosmetic
surgery
in
the
U.S.
carries
a
similar
weight
to
genital
cutting
in
African
culture—implementing
surgical
intervention
in
the
female
life
cycle
to
establish
youthful
and
desirable
appearance.
Human
rights
law
activists
demonize
these
practices,
promoting
a
universal
ban.
They
fail
however,
to
recognize
that
it
is
essentially
impossible
to
create
a
universalistic
concept
of
human
rights.
All
cultures
have
contradictory
elements,
and
all
are
shaped
through
varying
experience
and
history.
There
is
no
one‐size‐fits
all.
The
implementation
of
a
human
rights
law
approach
to
culture
inevitably
includes
a
degree
of
ethnocentrism.
It
demands
a
distinction
between
good
and
evil.
It
must
center
upon
only
one
true
way
of
being
fully
human.
The
idea
of
human
rights
law,
often
pushed
by
Westerners,
brings
to
light
the
idea
of
the
white‐man’s
burden
of
civilization.
It
uses
the
Western
way
of
life
as
a
template
for
the
natural
and
correct
way
to
live.
It
is
an
example
of
what
the
rest
of
the
world
deserves.
In
a
complex
network
of
countless
non‐homogeneous
cultures,
none
of
which
can
be
entirely
understood
or
explained,
this
universal
approach
in
inconceivable.
This
is
not
to
say
that
laws
prohibiting
potentially
dangerous
and
damaging
acts
should
be
made,
but
that
they
should
be
made
in
context.
Often,
the
attempt
to
abolish
controversial
practices
by
outsiders
leads
to
more
harm
than
good.
Especially
when
they
have
not
attempted
to
discover
the
greater
symbolic
meaning
of
these
practices
and
why
they
developed.
In
order
to
change
a
practice,
you
must
understand
it.
The
misinterpretation
of
the
anthropologist
as
a
latent
and
accepting
witness
to
injustice
is
sometimes
extended
from
cultural
traditions
and
rituals
to
events
that
may
not
have
anything
to
do
with
culture.
For
example,
in
the
situation
of
a
gang
rape
in
Pakistan,
one
interviewer
assumed
that
anthropologist
Sally
Engle
Merry
would
defend
the
rape—saying
that
it
was
a
matter
of
respecting
Pakistani
culture
at
all
costs.
This
is
an
interpretation
of
anthropology
as
completely
culturally
determinist.
This
rape,
probably
connected
to
local
political
struggles
and
class
differences
rather
than
Pakistani
culture,
is
thought
to
be
acceptable
to
anthropologists
by
this
interviewer
because
“culture
caused
it
to
happen.”
This
is
entirely
too
simplistic.
This
idea
of
cultural
determinism
requires
that
cultures
have
neat
boundaries,
that
every
culture
offers
only
one
way
to
interpret
experience,
and
that
people
are
passively
molded
by
culture
and
incapable
of
resisting
a
single
worldview.
We
cannot
use
an
isolated
event
to
represent
an
entire
culture,
nor
can
we
claim
that
culture
is
unchanging
and
homogeneous.
Here
is
where
the
slippery
slope
of
determining
which
practices,
events,
and
individuals
represent
a
culture.
What
is
isolated
and
what
is
not?
Just
because
murder
and
embezzlement
occur
in
the
U.S.
does
not
mean
that
we
criticize
the
culture
as
a
whole.
These
actions
are
understood
as
the
greed
and
violence
of
individuals.
The
same
can
be
applied
to
the
Pakistani
gang
rape
case.
Furthermore,
the
practices
and
values
of
culture
are
always
changing.
For
example,
gender
roles
have
changed
dramatically
in
the
U.S.,
as
have
the
methods
of
genital
cutting
in
Africa.
We
cannot
explicitly
define
a
culture,
nor
should
we
try.
The
objective
of
the
anthropologist
is
to
gain
understanding—to
establish
an
idea
of
why
people
do
what
they
do.
Being
an
anthropologist
does
not
mean
being
oblivious
to
human
rights.
It
does
not
mean
that
gang
rape
can
be
written
off,
of
that
genital
cutting
is
necessarily
an
attractive
ritual.
It
means
that
you
are
able
to
understand
traditional
practices
as
a
result
of
cultural
development.
You
are
able
to
pay
close
attention
to
what
the
members
of
a
culture
have
to
say
about
controversial
customs,
and
to
analyze
them
in
context.
You
are
able
to
avoid
the
skewed
reductions
of
ethnocentrism,
cultural
determinism,
and
universal
human
rights
law.
Within
the
holistic
field
of
anthropology,
the
study
of
culture
and
cultural
history
is
imperative.
By
observing
and
understanding
the
way
that
a
culture
defines
it’s
essence
and
incorporating
history,
we
can
understand
the
ways
a
society
functions.
By
studying
cultural
history,
a
greater
understanding
may
be
achieved.
Culture
cannot
be
ignored.
2
)
Born
into
poverty
and
left
void
of
any
family,
Tuhami
used
the
symbols
of
his
culture
in
hopes
of
making
sense
of
his
situation.
He
was
constantly
attempting
to
make
up
for
the
loss
of
his
father
and
his
consequential
loss
of
masculinity.
He
was
trying
to
change
what
he
had,
to
move
up
in
social
standing,
and
to
recreate
himself.
He
was
trapped
by
his
frozen
use
of
symbols,
unable
to
use
them
to
the
fullest
extent—constantly
bound
by
contradiction.
Tuhami
attempted
to
find
meaning
in
the
Moroccan
symbols
of
Spirits,
story
telling,
marriage,
pilgrimage,
dreams,
and
illness.
He
used
the
Spirits
as
an
escape
to
passivity,
story‐telling
as
a
method
of
transformation,
pilgrimage
and
dreams
acts
of
agency,
and
illness
as
a
means
of
creating
an
artificial
family.
In
Moroccan
culture
Saints,
Spirits
and
Demons
are
constants.
These
jnun
are
important
elements
of
the
manner
in
which
a
Moroccan
articulates
reality,
fantasy,
and
station
in
life.
For
Tuhami,
a
relationship
with
the
Saints
gave
him
purpose.
Without
a
father,
wife,
family,
or
wealth,
the
saints
were
one
of
Tuhami’s
only
conduits
to
society.
Married
to
A’isha
Quandisha,
a
camel‐footed
she‐demon,
Tuhami
was
enslaved
by
the
spirits
of
his
culture.
She
controlled
his
depressions
as
did
several
other
saints
and
demons
to
whom
he
was
attached.
Though
he
was
an
active
agent,
trying
to
escape
through
pilgrimage
and
story‐telling
,
Tuhami
was
rendered
passive
by
the
demons—particularly
his
jinn
bride.
Tuhami
was
overcome
by
demons
from
a
very
young
age.
It
began
with
the
pivotal
moment
of
watching
his
friend
helplessly
drown
in
a
river
after
cursing
the
name
of
Lalla
A’isha.
From
then
on,
this
female
jinn
controlled
Tuhami.
Tuhami
was
able
to
use
the
symbol
of
Lalla
A’isha
as
a
tool
to
explain
the
traumatic
death
of
his
friend,
projecting
blame
upon
her.
However,
in
his
eventual
dependence
upon
the
saints
to
define
him,
Tuhami
abandoned
all
hope
of
escaping
his
social
position.
He
was
unable
to
use
symbols
to
his
benefit.
Tuhami
refused
to
participate
in
trance
dances
and
other
rituals
that
would
aid
in
eliminating
the
control
of
his
demons.
Tuhami
understood
that
the
reason
he
was
excluded
from
society
was
his
absence
of
family,
father
and
wife.
He
replaced
this
lack
of
family
with
Saints
and
demons,
resigning
that
he
could
not
be
married
because
his
happiness,
future
and
social
standing
lay
in
the
hands
of
Allah
and
the
Saints.
In
a
culture
where
saints
have
power
over
demons
and
the
ability
to
protect
and
punish,
Tuhami
claimed
that
there
was
nothing
he
could
do.
In
his
constant
connection
to
the
saints
Tuhami
was
more
traditional
that
his
peers,
but
less
traditional
in
his
inability
to
participate
in
the
rituals
like
the
trance
dance.
He
was
a
fragmented
individual,
unsure
of
what
he
could
and
could
not
do.
He
was
passive
before
the
saints,
unable
to
keep
them
away
with
traditional
rituals.
He
placed
fate
in
their
hands,
but
he
was
also
left
with
a
sense
of
agency.
This
sense
of
agency
shone
through
in
Tuhami’s
use
of
story
telling.
Tuhami
used
his
gift
of
speech
and
storytelling
to
establish
a
place
among
women,
establishing
his
masculinity.
Holding
a
reputation
as
an
expert
storyteller,
Tuhami
felt
included
in
society.
He
was
sought
after
by
many,
and
allowed
the
selective
company
of
women.
On
one
occasion,
Tuhami
revealed
to
Crapanzano
a
time
when
Monsieur
Jolan
found
him
sitting
surrounded
by
women,
and
asked
what
was
going
on.
Tuhami
portrayed
the
scene
as
a
breaching
of
sexual
boundaries.
He
narrated
the
tale
to
demonstrate
his
masculine
power.
Storytelling
allowed
Tuhami
to
achieve
position
in
society.
However,
Tuhami
surrendered
his
manhood
to
achieve
this
place.
Though
he
spoke
of
himself
as
excessively
masculine,
he
was
in
fact
viewed
by
Moroccan
society
as
a
non‐threatsexually
effeminate.
Tuhami
used
story
telling
as
a
personal
transformation
method.
He
tried
to
paint
himself
as
a
powerful
and
masculine
character,
but
painted
himself
into
a
corner—using
the
saints
as
excuses
for
why
he
could
not
escape
his
social
position.
He
was
unable
to
finish
his
stories.
Tuhami
further
exercised
his
sense
of
agency
through
his
constant
pilgrimages
and
reactions
to
dreams
and
visions.
As
Crapanzano
describes
him,
Tuhami
was
“lost
in
himself
and
the
demons
around
him…he
would
walk,
often
for
miles,
to
a
saint’s
tomb,
a
sanctuary,
which
he
had
dreamed
of
or
fantasied,
in
the
hope
that
that
saint’s
blessing…would
free
him
from
his
despression”
(Crapanzano,
33).
Tuhami
used
his
dreams
and
pilgrimages
in
hopes
of
moving
on
from
his
degraded
social
positon.
He
went
through
the
motions
of
ritual,
interpreting
his
visions
and
visiting
the
shrines
of
the
saints.
He
was
enslaved
by
them.
They
were
responsible
for
his
misfortune.
He
had
done
everything
he
could.
Tuhami
was
unable
to
use
these
symbols
and
traditions
of
Moroccan
culture
to
move
forward
and
deal
with
his
grief
because
he
could
not
escape
them.
Crapanzano
suggests
that
this
is
not
only
because
of
his
economic
and
familial
situation,
but
because
Tuhami
was
uncertain
of
the
rituals
in
his
culture.
In
a
post‐colonial
era,
European
influence
undermined
Tuhami’s
confidence.
Culture
is
adaptive,
constantly
changing
to
allow
it’s
people
to
negotiate
and
reform—to
deal
with
new
problems.
Tuhami
was
trapped
in
the
past.
Independent
for
less
than
fifteen
years,
the
Moroccan
culture
of
Tuhami’s
generation
was
in
the
throes
of
adaption.
The
saints
to
whom
Tuhami
clung
mirrored
the
unstable
aspects
of
social
relations
in
a
post‐
colonial
country.
Every
individual
established
identity
through
a
network
of
connections—a
network
Tuhami
could
not
establish
without
a
father
or
wife.
Tuhami
turned
to
his
“frozen
symbols”
of
the
past
cultural
code.
His
saints
and
demons
were
not
aligned
with
the
new
colonial
and
modern
references.
Society
was
changing,
but
Tuhami
was
not.
Demonstrating
this
notion,
Tuhami’s
explained
that
he
was
unable
to
dance
in
the
trance
dances
because
he
did
not
want
to
and
was
not
“carried
away.”
Tuhami
mistrusted
the
rituals,
but
still
needed
them.
European
mindset
had
invaded
Moroccan
culture,
and
Tuhami
was
affected
despite
his
desire
to
maintain
tradition.
Throughout
their
ethnographic
encounter,
Crapanzano
was
also
a
symbol
for
Tuhami.
A
blank
canvas,
Tuhami
could
transform
himself
for
Crapanzano.
Though
he
told
fabricated
and
exaggerated
stories,
contradicting
himself
often,
Tuhami
was
real
from
the
beginning.
This
was
the
way
he
communicated.
Crapanzano
and
Tuhami
were
the
Others,
both
learning
about
each
other
and
themselves—both
transformed.
The
Other
became
a
projection
for
desires.
Tuhami
made
sense
of
his
own
life
by
revealing
his
story
to
Crapanzano
in
metaphorical
pieces,
while
Crapanzano
did
the
same
by
listening
to
him.
Tuhami’s
stories
became
the
stories
of
Crapanzano.
The
two
discovered
what
would
have
been
impossible
with
a
scientific
or
objective
approach.
Enabled
by
the
mediation
of
native
Moroccan
Lhacen,
patience,
and
openness,
Crapanzano
and
Tuhami
formed
a
relationship.
Unable
to
accept
Tuhami’s
depression
and
passivity,
Crapanzano
intervened.
He
was
no
longer
just
an
anthropologist.
Tuhami
was
able
to
go
forth
confidentlyconvinced
that
he
would
be
liberated.
Crapanzano
was
able
to
understand
Tuhami’s
transformation
as
a
metaphor
for
his
own.
The
ethnographic
encounter
is
not
one
where
the
anthropologist
can
remain
neutral
or
invisible.
By
eliminating
himself,
the
anthropologist
gives
too
static
of
a
picture
of
the
culture.
A
great
ethnographic
encounter,
like
that
of
Tuhami
and
Crapanzano,
must
lead
to
more
questions
than
answers.