INTRODUCTION TO BUSINESS ANTHROPOLOGY
Business anthropology offers a fresh and urgent way for businesses to operate, create and design new products and services. While it stems from mainstream academic anthropology, it promises exciting new directions for students and practitioners seeking a career in one or more of the fi elds of technology, finance and banking, healthcare services and medicine, user experience, design and product development, data science, marketing and advertising, corporate business, workplace culture and organizational change, law, and engineering, among other fields. Most importantly, it uses anthropological theories and methods to identify and solve real business and social challenges. Work in business anthropology broadly spans non-pro fi tand for-pro fi t companies, start-ups, entrepreneurial work and government agencies.
Just as many definitions define “anthropology,” likewise, many terms define business anthropology. Ann Jordan (2019) informs us that the term “business anthropology” was first applied in the 1980s to refer to anthropologists who studied business as academics, or were based in business and worked in, or for, business. While the field dates to the 1920s and 1930s, the term “business anthropology” did not appear in general usage until the 1990s. Earlier names included “industrial anthropology,” which reflected the importance of industry during the years of its popularity in the 1920s through the 1950s; “enterprise anthropology” is a name commonly used in Asia; “anthropology of work” is an anthropological field that predates business anthropology but overlaps in subject matter; “economic anthropology” is another older field with overlapping subject matter; and “applied/practicing anthropology”
DOI: 10.4324/9781003358930-1
are two fields with their own differences, which are used interchangeably since business anthropology is considered a part. Since business enterprises have increasingly become integrated on a global scale and have extended their reach across humanity in virtually every community around the world, now is a crucial time for anthropologists to be actively engaged in influencing such enterprises.
As provost at King’ s College Cambridge, Gillian Tett (who is also an anthropologist) writes in her book, Anthro-Vision (2021), that anthropology can better equip companies to see laterally and recognize issues they might not typically consider. She advocates that anthropology provides an intellectual framework that “enables you to see around corners, spot what is hidden in plain sight, gain empathy for others and fresh insights on problems” (2021, xii). Anthropology offers an essential way of thinking and doing for solving issues; it provides a means for instigating change in the world to address the pressing issues today of climate change and the environment, respond to racism, social media overload, the rise of artificial intelligence, social inequalities, and political conflict. While we live in an age of artificial intelligence and data analytics that gather information on a large scale and offer rapid solutions to problems, data science presents a point of view that is incomplete, often narrowly focused, observed from a distance, and constructed by selecting its object of analysis through sets of parameters that typically reduce rather than expand issues. Business consultants, Christian Madsbjerg and Mikkel Rasmussen affi rm, in The Moment of Clarity (2014), that most businesses create a linear mode of problem solving, using rational analysis, deductive reasoning and hypothesis testing in a quest to narrow and reduce complex variables. But this approach to problems fails to ask the larger strategic question of “why? ”
The first premise of this book is to inform anthropology students, beginning practitioners and curious non-anthropologists about the ways in which anthropology provides an intellectual and practical framework for seeing and dealing with the larger “why”questions of human behavior in business and society. It shows ways of addressing issues holistically; identifying with people empathetically; acting reflexively and understanding situations from an emic, or insider’ s, point of view. Anthropology offers an expansive, open, and explorative
way to “think ethnographically” (Hasbrouck 2018) through issues relevant to business, which can make a difference to society and the world. Using theories and tools from anthropology, this book hopes to introduce students to a different way of thinking about business strategy in a nonlinear way, to solve business problems, and help firms better understand human behavior.
A second premise of this book is to show the ways in which business anthropology advocates for change. An interventionist approach to solving problems explores how anthropological thinking and doing can be applied thoughtfully to the main areas of business anthropology: research in consumer markets, user experience (UX) and new business development; design concepts and strategies; and organizational work and work-culture environments, to bring about change. Each chapter provides multiple examples of anthropologists working collaboratively with others in these environments who have challenged corporate modes of thinking and revamped processes to be more responsive, adaptive and innovative towards their outward audiences and internal employees and shareholders. The intent is to demonstrate to students and practitioners how anthropology offers a powerful strategic and analytical framework for solving problems and fostering real change.
A third premise is to promote a “public anthropology” (Borofsky 2004) that addresses real social issues and problems beyond the discipline, and encourages broad, public conversations about them with the explicit goal of fostering social change. While many practicing anthropologists already do the kinds of things described as public anthropology, the term itself calls attention to the existing divisions between public/practicing applications and academic perceptions. The field of anthropology is being transformed by practice, that is, traditional academic anthropology applied outside of academia. Anthropological practice is now the norm. A united focus on public-oriented anthropology from all anthropologists would also help resolve the divide between academic and applied anthropology and join the discipline in popular appeal to address real social issues for broader audiences. Thus, the book hopes to provide academic scholars, practitioners, instructors, and students with a roadmap to integrate theory with practice, while advocating for real change in a public discourse, and it comes at an especially crucial time.
WHY IS THE FIELD OF PRACTICE AND BUSINESS ANTHROPOLOGY IMPORTANT TO STUDENTS TODAY?
In addition to myriad social and environmental issues facing society today, the field of anthropology is experiencing its own crisis. Elizabeth Briody, in her 2022 executive session at the American Anthropological Association (AAA) annual meeting, asserted that there is perhaps no greater concern among professional anthropologists and graduating anthropology students than that of employment. Numerous anthropology tracks at the AAA meeting sessions and other conferences in recent years discuss the employment crisis as an issue of academic precarity.1 Traditional career paths of seeking out tenure-track jobs at PhD-granting institutions now only accommodate 10% of new PhD anthropologists, in addition to excluding MA, BA, and AD graduates. Yet, most academic anthropology programs in colleges and universities do not expose or prepare students for the range or diversity of careers outside of academia, particularly in industry, fields of design, nonprofit organizations, and government, where jobs are growing. This lack of exposure, in turn, reduces the number of anthropology students and jeopardizes anthropology programs, while weakening anthropology’ s public impact in the world. This is a time when all anthropologists should be a major voice in the world, taking the public stage and rallying for action. Although the AAA recognizes the importance of practice in anthropology, many anthropology programs in colleges and universities have been lax in responding. Many instructors say they do not know how to integrate teaching, practice, and application into their coursework and are unfamiliar with practitioner scholarship, and so they believe they do not know how to help students prepare for jobs beyond the academy. This book addresses this issue by bringing to the fore both scholarship on anthropological ideas and theory, and their application in practical, social, and commercial problems encountered in consumer research, business design and organizational worlds.
What has been needed and is lacking is a basic book that offers both ideas and examples of doing practice, using cultural analysis, while explaining the theoretical ways to analyze and interpret practice. The discipline of anthropology consists largely of
practitioners employed in, or who consult for, a range of organizations, including for-profit and nonprofit organizations, financial corporations, small and medium scale businesses, family run businesses, government agencies, military organizations, financial institutions, educational institutions, labor unions, indigenous organizations, virtual and digital organizations, and healthcare and medical organizations. These career options are exciting and available to anthropology students, if they know how to apply their unique skill set to those careers.
Business anthropologists importantly differentiate themselves from other non-anthropological researchers. Other consumer researchers may claim to be ethnographic by stressing “being there,” but read consumer behavior directly, elevating what consumers say or what is observed without a subsequent level of interpretation in analysis. Failing to situate and interpret consumer behavior and discourse within theoretical constructs simply highlights interesting moments in consumer research but lacks the potential for strategic analysis at a higher level, or comparative analysis of consumer behaviors in other situations or at other times. For instance, Paco Underhill, in a popular business book, Why We Buy (2008), uses basic observational approaches that are valuable, but anthropologists typically produce deeper understanding and insights. Anthropologists know that observation alone is limited because people often over-or under-report their actual behaviors, reframe their thoughts or say different things in different contexts. The interpretation of what is being observed and said (or not said) in a particular setting may help to understand power differences and gender roles by noting who is speaking and who is silent, noting relationships and differences with other people, and interpreting the use of material artifacts and their importance to a setting. Interpreting these “webs of significance ” (Geertz 2000) requires a theoretical understanding of what to observe, what gender relations, social hierarchies, and forms of resistance reveal, what things mean to people, and how meaning changes in the different environments of home, shopping venues, corporate settings, or in design studios. This book offers such a perspective where theoretically informed ideas and applied practices participate in a new scholarship and contribute to the development of theories, where research contexts and theoretical ideas for solving issues evolve in relation to each
other, not as distinct and separate fields of inquiry. For readers familiar with practice and for business anthropologists this may seem plausible, while, for others in academia, the ideas here may be novel. The book o ffers ideas for all seeking to know more about a theoretically informed guide to anthropological practice.
WHAT DOES ANTHROPOLOGY OFFER STUDENTS AND BUSINESS PRACTITIONERS?
As this book hopes to reveal, there are numerous points of intersection between anthropology and business, where thinking with anthropologically informed ideas and methods can lead to insights and opportunities that benefit business as well as society. An anthropological way of looking at social and human problems dovetails with business very well. Such ways of thinking and doing can intervene to guide and help organizations become increasingly effective as they come to understand, appreciate, and learn to work within their organizational cultures. Anthropologists can help organizations become more socially responsible and aware of their own internal cultures, and external outreach and messaging because business anthropologists, like practitioners generally, are problem solvers. They are focused on trying to address one or more issues so that organizations and what they produce and do is better for all stakeholders. Anthropologists accomplish this through reflexive thought, applying holistic perspectives, emic considerations, and longitudinal viewpoints, which help to transform business problems into human concerns of greater significance.
For instance, anthropologists looking at the “other,” whether indigenous populations in the Amazon rainforest or employees of Amazon commercial warehouses, are trained to be self-reflexive about their own conclusions, values, work, and impact in the world. This is essential to ethnographic work, since a self-reflexive stance helps businesses properly understand what else they and others are experiencing in the world; it provides a comparative way of looking at things. This stems from two bases. First, this stance is epistemological, that is, a way of knowing the world. Through self-reflection, anthropologists gain a better understanding of the strengths and limits of their own thinking and actions. Second, reflexive thought is ethical because anthropologists
want to know the impact they are having on other people’ s lives, both positive and negative, and the effect they are having on related systems and society at large. It is by experiencing “otherness” that we can put ourselves in a position to consider culture from another perspective. As an example, this perspective is essential to design anthropology, for, as Adam Drazin (2021, 63) mentions, design creates an intrinsic “otherness” in its perspective, since seeing an object only in terms of its design makes sense because there is an attempt to consider or anticipate an other person, community or place who will use and appreciate it. This is done in an effort to make (positive) change on behalf of others.
Yet, this methodological approach of thinking thoughtfully and reflexively of others stands in contrast to what most businesses are taught. The standard way of thinking through business issues is linear, sequential, and progressive; it’ s about getting things done, moving forward and moving on. “Default thinking,” as Madsbjerg and Rassmussen (2014) describe it, is a linear and rational mode of problem solving in business. It’ s successful at analyzing information extrapolated from a known set of data, and is popular because it creates efficiencies, optimizes resources, balances product portfolios, and cuts operational complexity. Business is about taking resolute action and not looking back, especially for the start-up mentality of disruption, acting fast and “breaking” things.2 Butwhathappens when the challenge involves understanding people’ s complex behavior? Anthropological thinking encourages businesses to reflect on themselves, to value consideration, and not just take determined and resolute action. In fact, it is through reflexive thought that new insights arise, and business may uncover new opportunities.
In addition to a reflexive perspective, holistic–systemic thinking the ability to see the integrated picture, to pull back from the specific problem, event, or situation under study and put it in a larger context is one of anthropology ’ s most important contributions to business. A holistic approach considers how the parts to an organization are mutually in fl uential and interconnected to other parts, larger processes, and whole networks; if one part is tweaked, then the e ffect ripples out to a ff ect the rest of the system. Just as we understand culture as an integrated system, we can understand how issues are frequently integrated with other issues, so that to understand museum attendance, for example, one must look at use
of space, types of visitors, an d placement of objects, not just museum attendance. Sieck and McNamara (2016) discuss how holism reframes and expands conversation. For example, police violence could be reframed by viewing officer training as a ritual, or a police department as a kin network. In this way, you are “joining up the dots between di ff erent parts of people’slives ” (Tett 2015, 133).
Many business organizations, in contrast, are taught to think and work as isolated parts rather than interconnected systems. Owing to theories of scientific management, many companies are organized into silos, which helps businesspeople get work done and keeps members of a particular functional specialty together. Individuals in a company work on specific projects and it gives people a clear idea of the task at hand, and what they are supposed to do. However, fractionalized thinking also prevents businesses from seeing the bigger picture, asking difficult questions, and understanding how one piece of work is creating a system that is unsustainable, and may have an impact on others, of which they are unaware.
From an opportunity-focused perspective, how can businesses spend more time learning the ways that all the pieces fit together, and how can what a business does fit into the larger economy?
Anthropological ways of using cultural analysis reveal new opportunities to make an impact that businesses didn’t even know were connected. In marketing, design, and innovation, for instance, business often focuses on the individual, rather than collective, activities of people to understand customer wants and desires, own that piece of their lives, and satisfy that need. This psychological perspective assumes that personality traits guide consumer motivation, decisions, and behavior, ignoring patterns of behavior that result from shared cultural values and trends. This perspective loses focus on a holistic and cultural understanding that people live among other human beings, who live and interact in various communities in relation to other people.
Anthropological ways of thinking also inform us of two perspectives of knowing: etic and emic. Etic is the formal, rational, and logical way of knowing things that most businesses implement. It is witnessed in formal knowledge that is passed on and shared in spreadsheets, data points, or marketing plans. It is also witnessed in
language that a business uses to understand and evaluate its object. For instance, in the language of marketing, strategies are planned out in marketing campaigns, capturing market share, stealing target customers, defending positions, aiming at customers with big data, and considering customers as “ revenue streams,” as if they were natural resources to exploit. Not only does marketing language reflect a “ war metaphor” that antagonizes and depersonalizes customers and competitors as the enemy, it also affects how marketers see other human beings.3
In contrast, an emic way of thinking about people is a local, informal way of understanding viewpoints and knowing things. From a business perspective, to understand an emic way is to understand how people frame value in their lives, addressing their concerns by showing empathy. This will help the business better connect with the challenges of their lives from understanding how people make sense of their lives.
For example, Madsbjerg and Rasmussen (2014) applied emic and etic concepts to corporate work with Adidas, a global sports equipment and athletic shoe company. They wished to understand the rising yoga phenomena and address an odd marketing question: “Is yoga a sport?” From the corporate perspective, or etic framework, yoga was a sport and should be marketed to, as would any other sport category. The main goal in any sport is to win against competitors. However, Madsbjerg and Rasmussen’ s research into changing lifestyles from an up-close and emic perspective showed a different perspective. Women and men attended fitness centers to take yoga classes in packed class sessions, even as membership in local sports teams lagged. They understood that these people were attracted to yoga, not as a form of competition, but for its wellbeing and lifestyle benefits. This was an eye-opener for Adidas, and changed the way they developed a clothing line. Thus, an emic exploration of the way consumers think and act showed how an activity creates meaning and value in people’ s lives, and also warrants an exploration of the organizational models and etic structures that produced the terms of the problem within the company in the first place. When we bring etic and emic perspectives together, we learn how people feel about things and how their perceptions are framed by their values and what is important to them.
Another dimension of using anthropology to understand consumer experience is to take a longitudinal view of products, services, and their extended impact on society. Understanding experiences of consumers is framed anthropologically by knowing how a particular experience fits into the rest of life with other people, and across annual cycles, tacking back and forth between big picture and small picture, which involves a deeper extended understanding of consumers ’ lives. Business, in contrast, tends to think mainly in terms of short segments of consumer experience: the hair-care experience, the snacking experience, the beverage occasion, and then seeks to “ own that moment,” so that a brand can design the product or service for it, and beat the competition in that space. But because of this short-sightedness, business often fails to look at human experience longitudinally over time, which has consequences. The plastic soda bottle introduced in the 1960s and 1970s sought to own and indulge “the refreshment moment” by bringing to market the liberating ideas of portability, disposability, and screw-off caps. But what was never considered was the plastic bottle itself and the longer-term repercussions of where to place the plastic, later in the life cycle. This didn’t become a crisis until later. Issues such as sustainability require a long-term view and anthropologists can help businesses consider the longerterm consequences of their actions in the present. What sets apart business anthropologists from other forms of business research is asking these larger questions of why and exploring the ways of integrating both the thinking and doing of ethnography in a contemporary setting of consumer research, design concepts, and organizational practices. Sarah Pink and colleagues (Pink et al. 2017, 5) speak to this need for integration of practice and theory when they write:
What is glaringly lacking is a larger and extensive discussion of how forms of applied, public and practiced scholarship contribute to the development of cultural and social theory, and vice versa: how abstract theoretical insights can provide concrete proposals, insights or solutions and understandings in concrete contexts of daily life and work.
Applying ethnographic research with thought-provoking examples is a way to bridge theory and practice to fill this void. This book
offers such a bridge by underscoring the productive connection between anthropological ways of thinking and implementation in the study of consumer research, design concepts and practices, and organizational work culture examples. It hopes to be a valuable resource to students, scholars and practitioners who embrace a theoretically informed approach to the practice and thinking of anthropology for business.
The second premise of this book is to highlight the ways in which business anthropology advocates for change. Practitioners and academics are divided in this aspect by di ff ering approaches to research and the sense of purpose and ethics regarding the outcomes of their studies. The key di ff erentiator between academia and practice is that while academics o ff er a critical analysis of cultural situations, practicing anthropologists aim to solve problems. Most academic anthropologists are theoretically concerned with the investigation of cultural phenomena. The focus of their research is to understand and highlight the richness of human diversity by exploring the dynamics of people and their local community. But they are also cautious of ethnocentrism, attend to apparent structures of power that enable or constrain people, and question forms of representation in modern and past social constructions. Owing to a historical legacy of aiding colonialism and Western expansion agendas, cultural anthropologists are cautious of being authoritative and conclusive, and so resolve to offer anthropology as an “enterprise of critique.” As George Marcus (2010, 43–44n) explains, “Since the 1980s, much mainstream social-cultural anthropology has become a minor science … in which social problems are not solved or explained in holistic terms, but which is rather a medium where conflicts might be articulated in different registers.” Other anthropologists eschew easy explanations and, like Anna Tsing in her work on Worlding projects, embrace “the uses of disorientation…” for us to “…consider how unstable, incomplete and misleading,” her Worlding projects are (Tsing 2010, 63). Tim Ingold equivocally posits, “Anthropology doesn’t tell you what you want to know; it unsettles the foundations of what you thought you knew already… so you may end up knowing less than when you started, but wiser” (2018, 107). As these statements
suggest and Ulf Hannerz admits, anthropologists are careful to present life in “subtle shades of gray …” but also “they sometimes struggle to explain their work to outsiders in easy terms” (in Tett 2021, 233).
Presenting critiques of social issues in ambiguous “subtle shades of gray ” may highlight complex problems and suggest systemic issues in society, but also makes the clear and easy-to-follow discussion of issues to the public oblique. Moreover, the motive to critique but not act is based in the AAA “do no harm” code of ethics and discourages ready solutions. If anthropology holds that we should not directly intervene to solve problems, cannot offer simple explanations, and cannot “tell you what you want to know”,then we should not wonder why (academic) anthropologists are absent from public debate on crucial social issues. Moreover, as Ulf Hannerz explains (in Tett 2021, 233), “People who become anthropologists often have an anti-establishment view, and after studying how power works in the political economy they may feel cynical and or angry as a result.” Feeling cynical or angry at authority, institutions, and organizations is a less constructive way to make change happen than by getting involved.
SOLVING PROBLEMS BY TAKING ACTION
In contrast, many practitioners work in and for business, government, or non-profit enterprises, which call for straightforward solutions and actionable results that are easier to report. Anthropologists are attracted to practice because of employment opportunities but also to be able to make a difference in society by addressing real social problems. The change today for anthropologists taking positive action is dramatic. John Sherry, a long-time business anthropologist remarks on this amazing about-face by reflecting on the 1970s and 1980s when he first trained as an anthropologist: “I think it is safe to say that, in that era, the only reason one might study contemporary commerce would be to subvert it; the thought that one might improve it would be heretical” (2017, 45). Unlike academic colleagues who sometimes marginalize practicing anthropologists and disparage their work, practicing anthropologists apply anthropology’ s capacity for solving real world issues that are of interest to governments, non-profit companies and for-profit industries, expanding beyond the traditional
academic focus on teaching and research. According to Shirley Fiske and Robert Wul ff (2022, xiii), practicing anthropologists are “solving problems in the broad swath of organizations and entities facing ‘real-world’ decisions and actions.” Their work is not only valued and useful but makes a di ff erence by showing “ knowledge in action,” such as in the assessment of results, making policy choices and de fi ning actual problems of humanity. Anthropologists are applying anthropological theories and insights to solve human problems, revealing the strategies and methods used and the concrete actions taken to ensure projects are bene ficial. Below are instances of anthropologists working alongside government or with industry solving real problems and making a di fference.
Adam Koons (2022) worked with the government in rural Afghanistan in 2008 on the problem of severe food insecurity experienced by the farmers. The drought and poor farming methods not only meant people did not have enough food but also caused an increase in illegalimportedfood fromPakistanand, worse,anincrease ingrowing poppies for the illicit drug industry. His challenge was to figure out how to enable small scale farmers to revitalize wheat production. Koons proposed a project with USAID that provided accessible agricultural supplies – more seeds, fertilizers for 250,000 farmers and that also would provide income-generating opportunities for farm employees. He helped create a system of vouchers to be redeemed at agricultural supply depots and ensure ownership via 15% copay. This strategy integrated a community level approach, holistic relationships between beneficiaries, avoiding charity, and responding to Afghans’ sense of pride and ownership. The project successfully provided beneficiaries with 297,000 vouchers at a 99.9% redemption rate, aiding 1.7 million family members, including 3,000 female-headed households. In total, he reached 341,301 farmers with farming aid. Food security was re-established while self-esteem and self-determination of farmers was maintained, avoiding a charity-oriented system.
In another example of successful intervention, Amanda Stronza (2022) visited an Amazonian community in Southeastern Peru for her dissertation work on the impact of tourism on local culture. Ecotourism was promoted as a collective venture between government, conservationists, and the business sector as a form of sustainable development. Her question was: how would a marriage of business and conservation work out? Amanda decided to partner
with the project and not just observe as an academic. She acknowledged that her work would be biased, subjective, and uncertain in predicting an outcome. Still, she relished being a “culture broker,” and helped the community by teaching them skills in photography to turn what they photographed into observed data. She was also privy to company records at Posada Amazonas. As an insider, she could access clientele, administration, and locals, working across sides to translate insights and understandings into actions. The company was successful in promoting and protecting culture and the environment with the help of an anthropologist. The financial returns, which generated 2 million in local income, were reinvested into conservation efforts, building a lodge, and prohibiting hunting, timber extraction and farming, and protecting three thousand hectares of pristine land. Both community and company showcased wildlife habitats and cultural traditions of working locally to achieve sustainable goals. This story of ecotourism success gained publicity in The New York Times, The Economist, and National Geographic
My own work with a group of international hotels and the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) revealed how sensory strategies could mitigate food waste. In 2017, I was hired as a consultant by the WWF to propose and experiment with ideas for minimizing hotel food waste. Forty per cent of food is discarded in hotels while alternative ways of utilizing guest food go unrecognized. My objective was to create new awareness and suggest measures within the food distribution process of hotels to curb wastefulness. I interviewed chefs, hotel managers, kitchen workers and hotel guests about the hotel food experience. However, I encountered an unexpected dilemma: food is the primary means by which hotels market “hospitality” to their guests. Dining buffets popularly display an abundance of food choice to guests, yet they also represent the most wasteful format: guests typically over-sample food and overload plates, so surplus food is later discarded. How could the hospitality industry reduce or limit a pleasure that was promoted as a guest benefit? Nevertheless, I applied a sensory strategy to the dining experience to sublimate people into consuming less. Sensory strategies can subtly discourage guests from excess food: using heavier and/or wide rimmed plates set kinesthetic and visual boundaries; food cooked in front of guests
enhances enjoyment while reducing excess. These and other tactics help mitigate food waste and limit surfeit, while not interfering with the marketing dictum of hospitality that attracts guests. Initial results of a pilot study showed a 15% reduction in food waste4 that is still being carried out. More research is needed to craft food experience journeys that appeal to consumers ’ concept of free choice, yet also help hotel management encourage moderation.
Solving problems in spheres of commerce, business and government is what distinguishes practicing anthropologists from their academic peers. Different ascribed goals between practicing and academic anthropologists and a general disagreement over anthropology’ s intentional and unintentional impact in the world furthers the divide, which also stems from different ethical interpretations of anthropological actions and considerations for appropriate behavior. Moreover, the central AAA code of ethics, “do no harm,” creates serious complications in determining what is and is not “harm” since levels of engagement, area of focus, scope of work and evaluation of results differ greatly between practicing and academic anthropologists.
As a result of past and present behavior from anthropologists, the call to action and sense of purpose for practitioners and academic anthropologists are quite different: while the academically inclined AAA code of “do no harm” dissuades anthropologists from involvement, the call to “do some good” encourages practitioner anthropologists to take action.
MOVING PAST “DO NO HARM”
Academic anthropologists are perhaps hesitant to act and gain public recognition because their career field discourages seeking public attention, from a negative legacy of controversies that still haunts the discipline. The academic focus on publishing in peerreviewed journals for tenure promotion and career advancement devalues easy communication to broad audiences, and, in fact, publishing articles aimed at the general public may even count against candidates (Sabloff 2011, 411). Moreover, if anthropologists wish to “make an impact” in the public sphere they are unfortunately better remembered for “behaving badly” (Mitchell 2014). Three recent incidents of anthropologists “behaving badly” created shockwaves in the anthropological community and brought bad
press to anthropology. The controversies prompted the AAA to reassess its ethics standard and subsequently revise its ethics code to “do no harm.” This action has been translated into a call for inaction as discussed by Jon Mitchell (2014) in his article on social impact and the politics of evaluation.
First, Napoleon Chagnon and James Neel’ s research on the Yanomami of Amazonia in 2000 sparked the Darkness in El Dorado controversy, in which a journalist accused the anthropologist and geneticist of causing a measles epidemic and exacerbating intraethnic violence among the community. While Neel and Chagnon were exonerated of the former charge, the latter remains debatable in terms of intellectual politics. The second incident is the “Human Terrain” program of the US military, embedding anthropologists within Iraq and Afghanistan from 2005 to 2007, which supporters claim reduced the need for counterinsurgency, but other anthropologists (Ferguson 2013, Sahlins 2013) saw as a manipulation of anthropology to assist in identifying military targets. Moreover, they argued, it threatened the safety of other anthropologists who might be falsely identified with the military. The third case is Anastasia Karakasidou’ s research in Greek Macedonia, in which she identified a Macedonian Slav minority, but which prompted threats of violence and retaliation against her and her publisher from Greek nationalists and caused the ultimate withdrawal of her book, Fields of Wheat, Hills of Blood (1997) from Cambridge University Press (later published by the University of Chicago Press).
In 2012, the AAA responded to these widely publicized and debated actions of anthropologists by developing a code of ethics5 that calls for all anthropologists to follow its guidelines. However, the ethical responsibilities outlined in the code doing no harm, obtaining informed consent, maintaining subjects’ anonymity, and making the results of the research accessible are responsibilities that may not apply to all anthropologists, especially considering the differences in practicing and academic fields.
WHAT ARE APPROPRIATE ETHICS FOR ANTHROPOLOGISTS TO FOLLOW?
Ethics are constantly changing and being updated. They reflect an ongoing process of awareness, reaction, interpretation and adaptation.
Former AAA President Monica Heller writes: “… our ideas about something are always developed in interaction with other people and in connection to our experiences” (Heller 2016, 231). Indeed, the AAA has been engaged in specifying, and subsequently revising, its code of ethics at least since 1967. Many anthropology associations, such as the National Association for the Practice of Anthropology (NAPA), the Society for Applied Anthropology and the Society for American Archaeology, have developed and continually revise their own ethical statements or standards of conduct to assist their members. In all cases, educating anthropologists on ethical behavior is not about proclaiming a set of hard rules and regulations on what should be ethical behavior. Rather, it’sabout “socializing students into habits of reflection and cultivating their sensitivity to the competing, often mutually contradictory needs and interests of multiple stakeholders.”6 Responsibility is then shifted to anthropologists to make their own best-informed decisions.
Ethical responsibilities also vary by anthropological practice. For instance, Maryann McCabe and Rita Denny (2019) discuss the current guiding principles in consumer research when working with clients, which include:
protection of research participants through informed consent and confidentiality; accurate representation of research participants which, as Sunderland and Denny (2007) maintained, entails an understanding of the cultural dynamics at play in any situation including the dynamics of power; respect for contractual arrangements with clients such as non-disclosure agreements and good faith estimates of time and cost for conducting ethnography and cultural analysis; and selection of projects since business anthropologists may accept or reject work based on their judgment that a product is harmful to those who would consume it.
In reality, businesses, government agencies and non-profit firms, not anthropologists, are the agents actively shaping the world of commerce, politics, and exchange and its impact on society. Many practicing anthropologists desire to “do some good” and be part of the “agents of change” that determine the quality of our lives. Perhaps, this calls for a moral obligation for anthropologists to engage the world of policy making, commerce and economic
activity by “doing some good.” Now is the time for all anthropologists to engage in relevant social and environmental issues and drive change.
DOING SOME GOOD INVITES ALL ANTHROPOLOGISTS
Practicing anthropology is driven by challenges in myriad fields of engagement and seeks to make interventions that solve problems and have a positive impact in society. Briody and Pester (2017, 39) affirm that, “(practitioners) are working inside some cultural system whether as employees, contractors, consultants, or even volunteers and trying to make it better in some way. ” Solving problems with real social impact can inspire not just practitioners but all anthropologists. The following ideas suggest further ways that anthropologists can achieve positive outcomes and publicly acknowledge their actions by doing some good.
First, reflecting on the previously mentioned Neel and Chagnon crisis, Robert Borofsky (2018) writes, what if, instead of the AAA unsuccessfully trying to reprimand them for their actions and trying to determine the degree of harm,7 the investigating committee insisted that the Yanomami people benefit from the research they conducted. This benefit might take the form of gift exchange.
Kadija Ferryman (2017) provokes us to think of collecting data as a form of gift exchange that works towards a common good. Data, she writes, is not a thing or a repository of information, but an action. Ferryman suggests researchers have an obligation to reciprocate when data is taken from a community, just as a gift is connected to actions of giving, receiving, and reciprocating. She says scientists missed an opportunity when they collected genetic data from indigenous communities to map human genetic diversity. The communities felt a lack of involvement during the research phase and saw it as an extraction of their biological resources. The scientists only saw data as information. But, if we reframe data as a gift, genetic data could be given back, such as in research on diabetes, helping the community beyond the scope of consent. This would show that practitioners are engaged in exchanges with employees, consumers, leaders, and users. Their findings and recommendations would be shared with those who
hired them, so everyone benefits. This does not typically happen with academic anthropologists who write mainly for other anthropologists, and not usually for the communities they did fieldwork with.
Second, anthropologists can “do some good” when they work collaboratively with others towards the same goals. Rarely do anthropologists who work alone have the power to bring about significant social change. Unfortunately, this “solo” approach is identified with academic fieldwork, and for dissertations, is considered a rite of passage. To be effective, anthropologists need the energy and momentum generated by other people and organizations to mobilize people and persist through time. Anthropology works best when it collaborates with others to facilitate a common goal.
For instance, Robert Borofsky (2018) discusses how Partners in Health demonstrates ways to partner with local communities to build medical support structures on a community’ s existing structures, using community personnel for its medical support staff Ulf Hannerz (2021) describes the Data and Society Group in New York using anthropology to study cyberspace, and Microsoft working with anthropologists to expose and remedy the plight of “ghost workers.” John Sherry (2017) describes long-term collaborations with IDEO, a design and innovation consulting firm that delivers breakthrough interventions across industries and sectors. IDEO officers have written on the subject of the firm ’ s methods and procedures to address research ethics that includes reflexive commentary on their design principles. Sherry (2017) also collaborated with Motorola, a global mobile communications firm that, through its Mobility Foundation, fosters community engagement across a range of stakeholders. The company has published an interdisciplinary collection of cases and commentaries on the ethical challenges it has faced around the world.
Finally, anthropologists in academia can do some good by teaching students about business anthropology and the broader field of practice, either as instructors in business schools, design schools or even in traditional anthropology classes. Teaching anthropological sensibilities applied to business reminds us that the power of change and impact to influence the world exists with business and commerce more so than it does with anthropologists. Therefore, preparing future business managers, marketers, designers, engineers, and anthropologists to
enter the workforce with anthropology in mind, helps them to see themselves as moral agents, not merely passive observers. Students learn anthropological and ethnographic perspectives applicable to their vocation, as well as the ethical implications those perspectives bring to personal, organizational, social, and cultural spheres they inhabit. Students will go on to become influential corporate decision makers, public policy makers, urban planners, designers, engineers, marketers, and disciplinary thought leaders of heightened ethical sensitivity. They understand that, as corporate leaders, they can shape the quality of life in society, given that “marketing is among the most powerful forces of cultural stability and change at work around the globe, and accept that every marketing decision has a moral dimension” (Sherry 2017, 48). As they influence firms and help promote their brands, products and services to consumers, they will have the potential to realize the common good.
A third premise of this book is to encourage a more publicoriented anthropology to help solve social issues and help resolve the divide between academic and applied anthropology. Importantly, public anthropology addresses social issues and problems beyond the discipline, and encourages broad, public conversations about them with the explicit goal of fostering social change. A united discipline would appeal to a broader range of audience members, addressing particular issues and generating a public goodwill, that would also address the common refrain: Where is anthropology in the public arena?
This is one of the main rallying cries heard in academic conferences, anthropology meetings, in anthropology newsletters and at other venues. If anthropology is so valuable in its outlook on humanity and its take on social issues, why doesn’t it hold a more prominent presence in public discourse for debating social issues? Tim Ingold, in Anthropology: Why It Matters (2018, 106), expresses exasperation:
No other discipline is so pivotally positioned to bring to bear the weight of human experience in every sphere of life, on questions of how to forge a world fit for coming generations to inhabit. Yet in public debates on these questions anthropologists are for the most part conspicuous by their absence where are the anthropologists?
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Continuing in the way that followed this crooked stream, I occasionally beheld the high top of Mount Klabat before me. Several large butterflies flitted to and fro, their rich, velvety blue and green colors seeming almost too bright to be real. At the eighth paal we came to the native village Sawangan, and the chief showed me the burial-place of his people previous to the arrival of Europeans. Most of the monuments consist of three separate stones placed one on another. The lowest is square or oblong, and partly buried in the earth. Its upper surface has been squared off that the second might rest on it more firmly This is a rectangular-parallelopipedon, one or two feet wide and two-thirds as thick, and from two to three feet high. It is placed on end on the first stone. In its upper end a deep hole has been made, and in this the body of the deceased is placed. It was covered by the third stone of a triangular form when viewed at the end, and made to represent that part of a house above the eaves. It projects a little beyond the perpendicular stone beneath it. On the sides of the roof rude figures of men, women, and children were carved, all with the knees drawn up against the chin and clasped by the arms, the hands being locked together in front below the knees. In many of these the faces of the figures were flat, and holes and lines were cut representing the eyes, nose, and mouth; in others rude busts were placed on the eaves. This burial-place contains the finest monuments of olden times now existing in the Minahassa. Others can be seen at Tomohon, and especially at Kakas, but they are not as highly ornamented as these. At Kakas they are mostly composed of but two stones, one long one set upright in the ground, and another placed over this as a cover to the hole containing the body. At each of these places they are entirely neglected, and many of the images here have already fallen or been broken off. Noticing that a very good one was loose and ready to fall, I remarked to the chief that, if I did not take it, it would certainly soon be lost, and, before he had time to give his assent, I had it under my arm. The missionary at Langowan informed me that originally these graves were beset with such obscene ornaments that one of the Residents felt it his duty to order that they should all be broken off. This fact, and the rude form of the images, led me to think that they ought to be classed with the remarkable temple found near Dorey,
on the north coast of New Guinea, and with the nude statues used by the Battas to ornament the graves of their deceased friends.
THE BAMBOO.
When the Portuguese first arrived in the Moluccas, this region was tributary to the prince of Ternate. All the natives were heathen then,
and many of them yet retain the superstitious belief of their ancestors. Mohammedanism had not gained a foothold among them, nor has it since, and the only Mohammedans now in the land are the immigrants at Menado, who have come from other parts of the archipelago, and a few natives banished from Java. Even as late as 1833, but little more than thirty years ago, Pietermaat, who was then Resident, in his official report, says of these people: “They are wholly ignorant of reading, writing, and arithmetic. They reckon by means of notches in a piece of bamboo, or by knots made in a cord.” Formerly they were guilty of practising the bloody custom of cutting off human heads at every great celebration, and the missionary at Langowan showed me a rude drawing of one of their principal feasts, made for him by one of the natives themselves. In front of a house where the chief was supposed to reside, was a short, circular paling of bamboos placed upright, the upper ends of all were sharpened, and on each was stuck a human head. Between thirty and forty of these heads were represented as having been taken off for this single festive occasion, and the missionary regarded the drawing as no exaggeration, from what he knew of their bloody rites.
The remarkable quantities of coffee, cocoa-nuts, and other articles yearly exported from the Minahassa show that a wonderful change has come over this land, even since 1833; and the question at once arises, What is it that has transferred these people from barbarism to civilization? The answer and the only answer is, Christianity and education. The Bible, in the hands of the missionaries, has been the chief cause that has induced these people to lay aside their bloody rites. As soon as a few natives had been taught to read and write, they were employed as teachers, and schools were established from place to place, and from these centres a spirit of industry and selfrespect has diffused itself among the people and supplanted in a great measure their previous predisposition to idleness and selfneglect. In 1840, seven years after Pietermaat gave the description of these people mentioned above, the number of Christians compared to that of heathen was as one to sixteen, now it is about as two to five; and exactly as this ratio continues to increase, in the same degree will the prosperity of this land become greater.
The rocks seen on this journey through the Minahassa, as noted above, are trachytic lavas, volcanic sand and ashes, pumice-stone, and conglomerates composed of these materials and clay formed by their decomposition. They all appear to be of a late formation, and, as Dr. Bleeker remarks, the Minahassa seems to be only a recent prolongation of the older sedimentary rocks in the residency of Gorontalo. In this small part of the peninsula, there are no less than eleven volcanoes. North of Menado is a chain of volcanic islands, which form a prolongation of this peninsula. On the island Siao there is an active volcano. North of it is the large island of Sangir According to Valentyn, the highest mountain on the island underwent an eruption in December, 1711. A great quantity of ashes and lava was ejected, and the air was so heated for some distance around, that many of the natives lost their lives. North of the Sangir islands are the Talaut group. These are the most northern islands under the Dutch, and the boundary of their possessions in this part of the archipelago.
The steamer Menado, on which I had previously taken passage from Batavia all the way to Amboina, now arrived at Kema. She had brought my collection from Amboina, Buru, and Ternate, and I was ready to return to Java, for some months had passed since I accomplished the object of my journey to the Spice Islands, and during that time I had travelled many hundred miles and had reached several regions which I had not dared to expect to see, even when I left Batavia. A whale-ship from New Bedford was also in the road, and when I visited her and heard every one, even the cabin-boy, speaking English, it seemed almost as strange as it did to hear nothing but Malay and Dutch when I first arrived in Java. Many whales are usually found east of the Sangir Islands, and north of Gilolo and New Guinea.
January 10th.—At noon steamed out of the bay of Kema and down the eastern coast of Celebes for Macassar. When the sun was setting, we were just off Tanjong Flasco, which forms the northern limit of the bay of Gorontalo or Tomini. As the sun sank behind the end of this high promontory, its jagged outline received a broad margin of gold. Bands of strati stretched across the sky from north to
south and successively changed from gold to a bright crimson, and then to a deep, dark red as the sunlight faded. All this bright coloring of the sky was repeated in the sea, and the air between them assumed a rich, scintillating appearance, as if filled with millions of minute crystals of gold.
The controleur, on board, who travelled with me from Langowan, has been farther into the interior, south of Gorontalo, than any foreigner previously. He found the whole country divided up among many petty tribes, who are waging a continual warfare with each other; and the immediate object of his dangerous journey was to conciliate two powerful tribes near the borders of the territory which the Dutch claim as being under their command. He found that all these people are excessively addicted to the use of opium, which is brought from Singapore to the western coast, near Palos, by Mandharese and Macassars.
The dress of the people consists of a sarong, made from the inner layers of the bark of a tree. They have large parangs, and value them in proportion to the number and minuteness of the damascene lines on their blades. Twenty guilders is a common price for them. The controleur gave me a very fine one, which was remarkably well tempered. The most valuable export from this bay is gold, which is found in great quantities, at least over the whole northern peninsula, from the Minahassa south to the isthmus of Palos. The amount exported is not known, for, though the Dutch Government has a contract with the princes to deliver all the gold obtained in their territory to it at a certain rate, they are offered a much higher price by the Bugis, and consequently sell it to them. No extensive survey has yet been made in this territory, by the mining engineers employed by the government, and the extent and richness of these mines are therefore wholly matters of the most uncertain speculation. The fact, however, that gold was carried from this region before the arrival of Europeans, more than three hundred and forty years ago, and that the amount now exported appears to be larger than it was then, indicates that the supply must be very great. The government has not yet granted to private individuals the privilege of importing machinery and laborers, and proving whether or not mining can be
carried on profitably on a large scale. A fragment of rock from this region was shown me at Kema by a gentleman, who said he knew where there were large quantities of it; and that specimen certainly was very rich in the precious metal. Gold is also found in the southwestern peninsula of Celebes, south of Macassar. The geological age of these auriferous rocks is not known, but I was assured that, back of Gorontalo, an outcropping of granite had been seen. Buffaloes and horses are plenty and cheap at Gorontalo, and many are sent by sea to the Minahassa. The horses are very fine, and from the earliest times the Bugis have been accustomed to buy and kill them to eat, having learned that such flesh is a most delectable food, centuries before this was ascertained by the enlightened Parisians.
January 11th.—Last night and to-day the sea has been smooth, almost as smooth as glass, while we know that on the opposite or western side of Celebes there has been one continuous storm. This is why we have come down the eastern side of the island. Here the seasons on the east and west coasts alternate, as we have already noticed in Ceram and Buru, though those islands extend east and west, while Celebes extends north and south. To-day we passed through the Bangai group, lying between the Sula Islands and Celebes. From the appearance of the water, and from such soundings as are given, there appears to be only a depth of some thirty fathoms in the straits. These islands, therefore, not only have formed a part of the adjacent peninsula of Celebes, but do at the present day
A remarkable similarity has been noticed between the fauna of Bachian, near the southern end of Gilolo, and that of Celebes, and in the Bangai and the Sula Islands we probably behold the remnants of an old peninsula that once completely joined those two lands. When we compare Celebes and Gilolo, we notice that the Bangai and Sula groups, stretching off to the east and southeast from one of the eastern peninsulas of Celebes, are analogous in position to Gebi, Waigiu, and Battanta, and the adjacent islands which are but the remnants of a peninsula that in former times connected Gilolo to the old continent of New Guinea and Australia.
Now, at sunset, we were approaching the Buton Passage, which separates the large island of Buton from Wangi-wangi, “The Sweetscented Island.” This is a great highway for ships bound from Singapore to China in the west monsoon, and several are now here, drifting over the calm sea.
Buton is a hilly island, but no mountains appear. Its geological formation is said to consist of “recent limestone, containing madrepores and shells.” Here, again, we find indications of the wide upheaval that appears to be occurring in the whole archipelago, but especially in its eastern part. It is quite famous for the valuable cotton it produces, which, in the fineness and length of its fibres, is said to excel that raised in any other part of the archipelago, and is therefore highly valued by the Bugis and Macassars.
January 13th.—This morning we passed a large American man-ofwar coming down grandly from the west, under steam and a full press of canvas. It is a most agreeable and unexpected pleasure to see such a representation of our powerful navy in these remote seas.[51]
The next day we passed through Salayar Strait, which separates the southern end of the peninsula of Celebes from the Salayar Islands, and may be regarded as the boundary between the alternating wet and dry seasons on the opposite sides of Celebes.
January 15th.—Arrived back at Macassar. There is nothing but one continuous series of heavy, pouring showers, with sharp lightning and heavy thunder.
January 16th.—Sailed for Surabaya in Java. This morning there is only such a wind as sailors would call a fresh, but not a heavy gale. In all the wide area between Java and the line of islands east to Timur on the south, and the tenth degree of north latitude, none of those frightful gales known in the Bay of Bengal as cyclones, and in the China Sea as “typhoons,” have ever been experienced. The chief sources of solicitude to the navigator of the Java and the Banda Seas are the strong currents and many reefs of coral.
Our large steamer is little else than a great floating menagerie. We have, as usual, many native soldiers on board, and each has with him two or three pet parrots or cockatoos. Several of our passengers have dozens of large cages, containing crested pigeons from New Guinea, and representatives of nearly every species of parrot in that part of the archipelago. We have also more than a dozen different kinds of odd-looking monkeys, two or three of which are continually getting loose and upsetting the parrot-cages, and, before the sluggish Malays can approach them with a “rope’s end” unawares, they spring up the shrouds, and escape the punishment which they know their mischief deserves. These birds and monkeys are mostly purchased in the Spice Islands; and if all now on board this ship could be safely transported to New York or London, they would far excel the collection on exhibition in the Zoological Gardens of the latter city.
Besides the Chinese, Arabs, Malays, and other passengers forward, there is a Buginese woman, a raving maniac. She is securely shackled by an iron band around the ankle to a ring-bolt in the deck. One moment she is swaying to and fro, and moaning as if in the greatest mental agony and despair, and, the next moment, stamping and screeching in a perfect rage, her long hair streaming in the wind, her eyes bloodshot, and flashing fire like a tigress which has been robbed of her young. It would be difficult to fancy a more frightful picture. They are taking her to the mad-house near Samarang, where all such unfortunates are kindly cared for by the government. Her nation, the Bugis or Buginese, are famous for “running a muck.” Amuk, which was written by the early navigators “a muck,” is a common term in all parts of the archipelago for any reckless, bloody onset, whether made by one or more. It is, however, generally used by foreigners for those insane attacks which the Malays sometimes make on any one, generally to satisfy a feeling of revenge. When they have decided to commit a murder of this kind, they usually take opium, and, when partially under its influence, rush out into the street with a large knife and try to butcher the first person they may chance to meet. Many years ago such émeutes were of frequent occurrence, and even at the present time most of the natives who stand guard in the city of Batavia are each armed with a
long staff, on the end of which is a Y-shaped fork, provided on the inner side with barbs pointing backward. This is thrust against the neck of the murderer, and he is thus secured without danger to the policeman.
CHAPTER XII. SUMATRA.
On the third day from Macassar we arrived safely at Surabaya, and thence proceeded westward to Samarang, and, on the first of February, 1866, I was again in Batavia, having been absent in the eastern part of the archipelago eight months. Through the courtesy of Messrs. Dümmler & Co., of that city, who obligingly offered to receive and store my collections and forward them to America, I was left entirely free to commence a new journey.
The generous offer of the governor-general to give me an order for post-horses free over all parts of Java was duly considered; but as many naturalists and travellers have described it already, I determined to proceed to Sumatra, and, if possible, travel in the interior of that unexplored island, and, accordingly, on the 12th of February, I took passage for Padang on the Menado, the same steamer in which I had already travelled so many hundred miles.
Transcriber’s Note: Map is clickable for a larger version.
ISLAND of SUMATRA
To Illustrate Professor Bickmore’s Travels.
Edwᵈ Weller
From Batavia we soon steamed away to the Strait of Sunda, and once more it was my privilege to behold the lofty peaks in the southern end of Sumatra. From that point as far north as Cape Indrapura the coast is generally bordered with a narrow band of low land, from which rises a high and almost continuous chain of mountains extending parallel with the southwest, or, as the Dutch always call it, the “west” coast, all the way north to Achin.
The next morning, after passing the lofty peak of Indrapura, found us steaming in under the hills and high mountains that stand by the sea at Padang and rise tier above tier until they reach the crest of the Barizan chain, producing one of the grandest effects to be enjoyed on the shores of any island in the whole archipelago. Padang, unfortunately, has no harbor, and the place where ships are obliged to anchor is an open, exposed roadstead. There is a sheltered harbor farther to the south, but it would cost a large sum to build a good road from Padang to it by cutting down the hills and bridging the ravines. The distance from the anchorage to the city is some three miles, and all the products exported must be taken out to the ships on barges.
The city of Padang is situated on a small plain, whence its name; padang in Malay, meaning an open field or plain. Its population numbers about twelve thousand, and is composed of emigrants from Nias, Java, some Chinese and Arabs, and their mestizo descendants, besides the natives and Dutch. The streets are well shaded and neat. Near the centre of the city is a large, beautiful lawn, on one side of which is the residence of the governor. On the opposite side is the Club-House, a large and well-proportioned building. On the south side is a small stream where the natives haul up their boats, and here the barges take in their cargoes. This part of the city is chiefly filled with the store-houses and offices of the merchants. In front of the governor’s residence is a large common. Two of its sides are occupied by private residences and the church, the roof of which has fallen in, and indeed the whole structure is in a most dilapidated condition compared to the rich Club-House on the other side of the green. Having landed and taken up my quarters at a
hotel, I called on Governor Van den Bosche, who received me politely, and said that the inspector of posts, Mr. Theben Terville, whose duty it is not only to care for transporting the mails, but also to supervise and lay out the post-roads, had just arrived from Java, and must make an overland journey to Siboga, in order to examine a route that had been proposed for a post-road to that place.
He had promised the inspector, who was an old gentleman, the use of his “American,” a light four-wheeled carriage made in Boston. There was room for two in it, and he would propose to the inspector to take me with him, and further provide me with letters to the chief officials along the way; but as it would be two or three days before Mr. Terville, who was then in the interior, would be ready to start, he proposed that I should leave the hotel and make my home with him as long as I might remain in Padang. “Besides,” he added, “I have eight good carriage-horses in the stable, and I have so much writing to do that they are spoiling for want of exercise; now, if you will come, you can ride whenever you please.” So again I found myself in the full tide of fortune. It is scarcely necessary to add that I did not fail to avail myself of such a generous offer. In the evenings, when it became cool, the governor was accustomed to ride through the city, and occasionally out a short distance into the country. Our roads were usually shaded with tall trees, frequently with palms, and to fly along beneath them in a nice carriage, drawn by a span of fleet ponies, was a royal pleasure, and one never to be forgotten. One pleasant day we drove out a few miles to a large garden where the governor formerly resided. The palace had been taken down, but a fine garden and a richly-furnished bathing-house yet remain. The road out from Padang to this place led through a series of low ricelands, and just then the young blades were six or eight inches high, and waved charmingly in the morning breeze. The road, for a long distance, was perfectly straight and bordered by large shade-trees. It was one of the finest avenues I ever saw. Here I was reminded of the region from which I had so lately come, the Spice Islands, by a small clove-tree, well filled with fruit. Much attention was formerly given here to the culture of the clove, but for some years raising coffee has proved the most profitable mode of employing native labor. There were also some fine animals in various parts of the
garden, among which was a pair of the spotted deer, Axis maculata Thus several days glided by, and the time for me to go up into the interior and meet the inspector came almost before I was aware of it.
February 21st, 1866.—At 8 . . we started from Padang for Fort de Kock, sixty miles from this city. A heavy shower during the night has purified the air, and we have a clear, cool, and in its fullest sense a lovely morning. This “American” is generally drawn by two horses, but the governor has had thills put on so that one may be used, for he says, between Fort de Kock, where the present post-road ends, and Siboga, a distance of about one hundred and ninety miles, by the crooked route that we must travel, that we shall find it difficult to get one horse for a part of the way. Behind the carriage a small seat is fastened where my footman sits or stands. His duty is to help change the horses at the various stations, which are about five miles apart. When the horses are harnessed his next duty is to get them started, which is by far the most difficult, for most of those we have used to-day have been trained for the saddle, and we have not dared to put on any breeching for fear of losing our fender, these brutes are so ready to use their heels, though fortunately we have not needed any hold-back but once or twice, and then, by having the footman act as hold-back himself with a long line, I have urged on the horse, and in every case we have come down to the bottom of the hill safely. With only a weak coolie tugging behind, of course I have not been able to make these wild horses resist the temptation to go down the hill at a trot, and, after running and holding back until he was out of breath, the coolie has always let go, generally when I was half-way down; nothing of course then remained to be done but to keep the horse galloping so fast that the carriage cannot run on to him, and by the time we have come to the bottom of the hill we have been moving at a break-neck rate, which has been the more solicitous for me, as I had never been on the road, and did not know what unexpected rocks or holes there would be found round the next sharp turn.
From Padang the road led to the northwest, over the low lands between the sea and the foot of the Barizan, or coast chain of mountains. In this low region we have crossed two large streams,
which come down from these elevations on the right, and are now quite swollen from the recent rains. A long and large rattan is stretched across from one bank to the other, and a path made to slip over it is fastened to one end of a rude raft. This rattan prevents us from being swept down the boiling stream, while the natives push over the raft with long poles. I began to realize what an advantage it was to ride in the carriage of the Tuan Biza, or “Great Man,” as the Malays all call the governor. As soon as those on the opposite side of the stream saw the carriage they recognized it, and at once came over by holding on to the rattan with one hand and swimming with the other. In their struggles to hasten and kindly assist, several times the heads of a number of them were beneath the water when they came to the middle of the stream, where the current was strongest and the rattan very slack; but there was very little danger of their being drowned, for they are as amphibious as alligators. I had not been riding long over these low lands before I experienced a new and unexpected pleasure in beholding by the roadside numbers of beautiful tree-ferns, which, unlike their humbler representatives in our temperate regions, grow up into trees fifteen to eighteen feet high. They are interesting, not only on account of their graceful forms and limited distribution, but because they are the living representatives of a large family of trees that flourished during the coal period.
APPROACH TO THE “CLEFT,” NEAR PADANG
As we proceeded, our road approached the base of the Barizan chain until we were quite near them, and then curved again around some spur that projected toward the sea-shore. Late in the afternoon we came to the opening of a broad, triangular valley, and beheld on our right, and near the head of the valley, the towering peak of Singalang, whose summit is nine thousand eight hundred and eighty feet above the sea. Large numbers of natives were seen here travelling in company, returning homeward from the market at Kayu Tanam, the next village. Their holiday dress here as elsewhere is a bright red. Beyond Kayu Tanam the road ran along the side of a deep ravine, having in fact been cut in the soft rock, a narrow wall of it being left on the outer side to prevent carriages from sliding off into the deep chasm. Suddenly, as we whirled round the sharp corners while dashing through this place, we came into a deep cañon extending to the right and left, called by the Dutch the Kloof, or “Cleft,” a very proper name, for it is a great cleft in the Barizan chain. Up this cleft has been built a road by which all the rich products of the Padangsche Bovenlanden, or “Padang plateau,” are brought down to the coast. Opposite to us was a torrent pouring over the
perpendicular side of the cleft, which I judge to be about seventy-five feet in height. Where it curved over the side of the precipice it was confined, but, as soon as it began to fall, it spread out and came down, not in one continuous, unvarying sheet of water, but in a series of wavelets, until the whole resembled a huge comet trying, as it were, to escape from earth up to its proper place in the pure sky above it. On either side of this pulsating fall is a sheet of green vegetation, which has gained a foothold in every crevice and on every projecting ledge in the precipice. Behind the falling water there is a wall of black, volcanic rock, and at its foot is a mass of angular débris which has broken off from the cliff above. Now we turned sharply round to the north, and began ascending to the plateau. The cleft has not been formed in a straight but in a zigzag line, so that, in looking up or down, its sides seem to meet a short distance before you and prevent any farther advance in either direction; but, as you proceed, the road suddenly opens to the right or left, and thus the effect is never wearying. It resembles some of the dark cañons in our own country between the Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada, except that while their dark sides are of naked rock, the sides of this ravine are covered with a dense growth of vines, shrubs, and large trees, according to the steepness of the acclivities. Here were many trees and shrubs with very brilliantly-colored leaves. The whole scenery is so grand that no description, or even photograph, could convey an accurate idea of its magnificence. For four miles we rode up and up this chasm, and at last came on to the edge of the plateau at the village of Padang Panjang. We were then more than two thousand four hundred feet above the plain, having ascended about two thousand feet in four miles. Here the inspector left word for me to wait a couple of days for him, as he was still away to the south. Heavy showers continued the next day, so that I had little opportunity of travelling far; besides, it was very cool after coming up from the low, hot land by the shore. There is almost always a current of air either up or down this cleft, and the warm air of the coast region is brought into contact with the cool air of the plateau, and condensation and precipitation seems to occur here more abundantly than at any other place in the vicinity, the number of rainy days numbering two hundred and five. This is no doubt due to the
local causes already explained. The average temperature here is 49.28° Fahrenheit. In the cleft, at one or two places, are a few houses made by the people who have moved down from the plateau. They are placed on posts two or three feet above the ground. Their walls are low, only three or four feet high, and made of a rude kind of panel-work, and painted red. Large open places are left for windows, which allow any one passing to look in. There are no partitions and no chairs nor benches, and the natives squat down on the rough floor. It requires no careful scrutiny of these hovels to see that they are vastly more filthy than the bamboo huts of the Malays who live on the low land.
In all the villages I have passed to-day, both on the low land and here on the plateau, there is a pasar, or market, and, where they have been erected by the natives, they are the most remarkable buildings I have seen in the archipelago. They are perched upon posts like the houses. The ridge-pole, instead of being horizontal, curves up so high at each end, that the roof comes to have the form of a crescent with the horns pointing upward. Sometimes a shorter roof is placed in the middle of the longer, and then the two look like a small crescent within a large one. Long before Europeans came to this land these people were accustomed to meet to barter their products, and this was their only kind of internal commerce. The next morning I rode part way down the cleft to near the place where the post-horses are changed, and found a marble that was soft, but so crystalline as to contain no fossils. I understand, however, that Mr. Van Dijk, one of the government mining engineers, discovered some pieces of this limestone which had not been crystallized, and that he considered the species of corals seen in them to be entirely of the recent period. Limestone again appears in the cleft of Paningahan, a short distance to the south. The rocks with which it is interstratified are chloritic schists, that is, layers of clay changed into hard schists by the action of heat and pressure.
February 23d.—The inspector arrived this morning, and we set out together for Fort de Kock, about twelve miles distant. From Padang Panjang the road continues to rise to the crest of a ridge or col, which crossed our road in an easterly and westerly direction, and
connects Mount Singalang with Mount Mérapi. This acclivity is very nicely terraced, and the water is retained in the little plats by dikes. When any excess is poured into the uppermost in the series, it runs over into those beneath it, and thus a constant supply of water is kept over all. On looking upward we saw only the vertical sides of the little terraces covered with turf, and, in looking down, only the ricefields. Near the crest of the col we could look down the flanks of the Mérapi to Lake Sinkara away to the south. The earth here is a tenacious red clay formed by the decomposition of the underlying volcanic rocks and volcanic ashes and sand. These are arranged in layers which have an inclination nearly parallel to the surface. The layers of ashes and sand may have been partly formed in their present position by successive eruptions in the summits of the neighboring peaks, but those of clay show that the col has been elevated somewhat since they were formed. The height of this col is three thousand seven hundred feet, and this is the highest place crossed by the road from Padang to Siboga. We now began slowly to descend, passing wide, beautifully-cultivated sawas on either hand to Fort de Kock. Here on a pretty terrace is located the house of the Resident, who has command of the adjoining elevated lands, so famous in the history of this island as the kingdom of Menangkabau, whence the Malays originally migrated, whom we have found on the shores of all the islands we have visited, and who are very distinct from the aborigines of these islands, as we have particularly noticed at Buru.
WOMAN OF THE PADANG PLATEAU
The dress of the men here is not very different from that of the Malays of Java, but the costume of the women is remarkable. On the head is worn a long scarf, wound round like a turban, one end being allowed to hang down, sometimes over the forehead, and sometimes on one side, or on the back of the head. The upper part of the body is clothed in a baju of the common pattern, and passing over one shoulder, across the breast, and under the opposite arm is a long, bright-colored scarf. The ends of this, as well as that worn on the head, are ornamented with imitations of leaves and fruit, very tastefully wrought with gold thread. At the waist is fastened the sarong, which is not sewn up at the ends as in other parts of the archipelago. It is therefore nothing but a piece of calico, about a yard long, wound round the body, and the two ends gathered on the right
hip, where they are twisted together, and tucked under, so as to form a rude knot. As the sarong is thus open on the right side, it is thrown apart higher than the knee at every step, like the statues representing the goddess Diana in hunting-costume. Their most remarkable custom, however, is distending the lobe of the ear, as seen in the accompanying cut from a photograph of one of the women at the kampong here at Fort de Kock. When young, an incision is made in the lobe, and a stiff leaf is rolled up, and thrust into it, in such a way that the tendency of the leaf to unroll will stretch the incision. When one leaf has lost its elasticity it is exchanged for another, and, in this way, the opening increases until it is an inch in diameter. This must be a very painful process, judging from the degree to which the ears of the young girls are inflamed and swollen. A saucer-shaped ornament, with a groove in its rim, is then put into the ear, exactly as a stud is put into a gentleman’s shirt-bosom. It is generally made of gold, and the central part consists of a very fine open work, so that it is very light, yet the opening in the ear continues to increase until it is frequently an inch and a half in diameter, and almost large enough for the wearer to pass one of her hands through. The front part of the loop is then only attached to the head by a round bundle of muscles, smaller than a pipe-stem, and the individual is obliged to lay aside her ornaments or have the lower part of her ears changed into long, dangling strings. While these ornaments (for it is not proper to call such a saucer-shaped article a ring) can be worn in the ear, the appearance of the native women, as seen in the cut, is like that of the other Malay women; but as soon as these ornaments are taken out, and the lobes of their ears are seen to be nothing but long loops, their appearance then becomes very repulsive. The men are never guilty of this loathsome practice. A similar habit of distending the lobe of the ear prevails in Borneo, among the Dyak women. It is also seen in all the Chinese and Japanese images of Buddha, The native women of India are accustomed to wear several small rings, not only all round in the edge of the ear, but in the nostrils. A large number of rings are shown in the ear of the cut of a Dyak or head-hunter of Borneo. Even in the most civilized lands this same barbaric idea—that a lady is
