Ethnographic Work and Pop Songs, updated

(photo by M. A. Al Awaid)

A friend jokingly asked if I was going to talk about pop songs in my next book as my books were the only ones they had seen in which an academic author thanked Bernice Johnson Reagon, Bruce Springsteen, Elton John, Josh Ritter, the Muppets, Pink, Prince, and Toby Keith in the acknowledgments. I said yes.

Living where I do research and living overseas for more than eighteen years was sometimes difficult. Sometimes I drive around town with the car windows rolled up blasting the Boss; sometimes the only way to get motivated to sit down and work on a Friday morning is to play Toby Keith.  I see listing the songs and singers as a way of being honest about how I do research.

Recognizing that I use pop songs to keep me focused is modeling that researchers do not have to be serious all the time, in the same way I try to model honest behavior for my students. Acknowledging pop songs is similar to my saying to students “I don’t know” or “I am not sure about the spelling of that word.” Sometimes a student will gasp, “YOU DON’T KNOW?” I laugh and explain that there are no spelling bees in Germany because they aren’t needed, but every state in the USA has spelling contents because English spelling can be tricky with all the loan words. So, no, I don’t know how to spell every word in English and I sometimes need to do a quick check to make sure.

About a week after I started on-line teaching I watched the movie Trolls and I loved the song “Get Back Up Again.” All that spring “Get Back” was on constant repeat as I fought unfamiliar tech, attempted new ways of teaching and tried to increase student involvement (“TURN ON YOUR MICROPHONES!”). Now when I hear “Get Back Up Again” I am transported back to those tough weeks in March – May 2020 when I left my apartment once a week to go to the grocery store. Bereft of my café, friends, chats with colleagues, the pool where I went swimming and picnics with the research guys, that saccharine song was my stay-positive mantra.

When I first heard the line “I don’t know when, confused about how as well” from the song “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol, I thought: that’s my life as a researcher. I am constantly trying to make sense of what I am seeing and I spend a lot of time living in confusion.

When I used to do teacher-training, I would tell teachers to work from their strengths, be frank when they were lost and ask for help when they needed it. By embracing my inner Top 40 doo-wop persona, I practice what I preach.

from my books:

Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions. Palgrave Macmillan, 2025
To the singers who helped me through so many long drives late at night on dark roads: Jimmy Buffet, Lucky Ali, Prince, Toby Keith and (just in time) Tortured Poets, as well as “Angel” Sarah McLachlan; “Arms of an Angel” Soweto Gospel Choir; “City of New Orleans” and “My Heros Have Always Been Cowboys” Willie Nelson; “Cloudy Day,” Tones and I; “Gone with the Angels” Shaggy; “Lost and Found” Brooks and Dunn; “Locomotion” Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark; “Low” and “Wild Ones” Flo Rida; “Montego Bay” Bobby Bloom; “Ngarra Burra Ferra” Jessica Mauboy, Jade MacRae, Lou Bennett and Juanita Tippens; “Seven Spanish Angels,” Willie Nelson and Ray Charles; and “A World of Your Own” cast of Wonka.

Houseways in Southern Oman. Routledge, 2023

I am grateful for Aida (Broadway and concept albums); “Mama Knows the Highway,” Hal Ketchum; “Unwritten,” Natasha Bedingfield; “La Vie Boheme,” Rent; “Drunk Americans,” Toby Keith; “American Rock ’n Roll,” Kid Rock, “Let the River Run,” Carly Simon, as well as Jimmy Buffet, Pink, Prince, Bob Seger, Shaggy and Tina Turner.

Foodways in Southern Oman. Routledge, 2021

Thanks to Kid Rock (for the slow songs, not the politics, not the rap), Pink, Toby Keith and all the songs picked by Steve Nathans-Kelly which got me through a lot of long drives late at night on dark roads.

Community and Autonomy in Southern Oman. Palgrave Macmillan, 2019

I would like to thank the memory of Gerald Durrell and Lawrence Durrell, whose books pulled me out into the world: Jersey, Cyprus, Rhodes, Provence and Alexandria. I have lived over 15 years overseas and have missed a lot of popular culture, but I am grateful for The Mummy (1932 and 1999 versions), Chariots of Fire (1981), Sahara (2005), Black Gold (2011), Theeb (2014), and A Perfect Day (2016), and “All these Things That I’ve Done” sung by the Killers; “If You’re Going Through Hell” sung by Rodney Akins; “Club Can’t Handle Me” sung by Flo Rida;  Elton John, especially “Island Girl” and Aida; Prince, especially “The One U Want to C”; Bruce Springsteen, especially “From Small Things” and “Frankie Fell in Love”; Toby Keith, especially “How Do You Like Me Now,” “Rum is the Reason,” and “Ain’t No Right Way”; Josh Ritter, especially “Getting Ready to Get Down” and “Girl in the War”; Bernice Johnson Reagon; John Denver; Jimmy Buffett; Kid Rock, and the Muppets.

Getting through Covid:

  • Big Energy – Latto, and the remix with Mariah Carey
  • Devil with the Blue Dress – Mitch Rider and the Detroit Wheels
  • Don’t Start Now – Dua Lipa
  • Duke of Earl – Gene Chandler
  • Happy all the Time from Elf
  • Hello, Hello – Elton John
  • House on Fire – Mimi Webb
  • I Don’t Feel Like Dancing – Scissor Sisters
  • Leave before You Love Me – Marshmello and Jonas Brothers
  • The Lion Sleeps Tonight – The Tokens
  • Mr Brightside – The Killers
  • The Other Side – SZA and Justin Timberlake
  • Pretty in Pink soundtrack
  • So Happy it Hurts – Bryan Adams
  • Thunder – Imagine Dragons

Reflections – Dhofari Conversations

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Adjusting to Oman: My Dangerous Taxi

Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula

Practicalities: Managing a Short Business Trip to the Arabian Peninsula

Predator Anthropologists, Anthropologist Predators: Anthropological Metaphors in Popular Movies

Now that there is a new Predator movie, I will need to watch it and see how it fits into the Predator framework.

Predator Anthropologists, Anthropologist Predators:

Anthropological Metaphors in Popular Movies (Risse 2017)

Time spent viewing anthropological films rarely yields the intellectual rewards of comparable time spent reading. Yet, ironically, time spent with merely ‘entertainment’ films is richly rewarded with ideas about the culture and society in which they originate. (Jarvie 1983 323)

Introduction

The cover of one of my anthropology textbooks has a white man in a white shirt, pressed pants, shoes and the accoutrements of academia (glasses, pen, notebook) talking to a woman with facial tattoos and cloth wrapped around her body. She’s “local,” with local knowledge and he’s the embodiment of a Western-style education. He’s going to take her information, compare it to other knowledge from other cultures, add in some theory and publish. He might get more grants to go out in the “field” again and interview some more locals, perhaps end up with tenure.

But what if the local woman, as she is passing along some native wisdom, hands him a cup of a native beverage, which he accepts as he wants more local experiences. The drink turns him into a terrible beast and, after a frightful rampage, he’s killed by his own colleagues. That’s the plot of The Relic (1997).

When I first saw the movie, I didn’t think of it in terms of anthropology, it was just a fun summer movie. But thinking about it later, I felt it was right on so many levels: the dangerous beast killing people in the museum is not ‘other’ or ‘exotic’; it’s the white, male academic who cluelessly went out to gather local knowledge without any respect for what that knowledge might entail. And after more than 14 years of living on the Arabian Peninsula, the movie is more relevant to me than ever. Going into the “field” changes an anthropologist in unexpected, sometimes unwanted, ways which are captured in films with a variety of metaphors.

Rewatching The Relic (1997) over the years has made me realize how unusually, wonderfully subversive it is and started me thinking about how popular movies can slotted into a taxonomy of the possibilities what can happen when an anthropologist leaves a homespace to enter a world of foreign “local” people.

Although I am not an aid-worker in 1995 in the war-ravaged Balkans, A Perfect Day (2016) is the best cinematic portrayal of my life in the Middle East. I live middle-class comfortable, teaching at a university but the feeling of the characters is very similar: the getting up and spending the day trying to do the right thing in a foreign environment, with no sense if one is ever actually helping anything but doing it anyway. I can relate to that. Tying ropes on the body of a dead, white man so that the local people can later use the ropes to haul the body away and have clean water. That’s an eerily helpful metaphor for teaching Shakespeare, Milton, Wilde and Shaw on the Arabian Peninsula.

 And most people who have lived expat for years, even those not in the military, can relate to the scene in Hurt Locker (2008) in which James (Jeremy Renner) stands stupefied in the cereal aisle and the continual displacement/ disorientation of Billy-Lynn in Billy-Lynn’s Long Half Time Walk (2016) and Krebs in Soldier’s Home (1977), based on a Hemingway short story.

Homespace and “Local” Space

Displacement and disorientation are key to the anthropologist’s experience. To do anthropology, the anthropologist has to come out of some kind of homespace where the rules are known and go out into the “field,” a new place with unknown rules which the anthropologist must learn well enough to explain to people back in the homespace, especially the academics.

The point is to gather knowledge and then go home: “The conventional Western anthropologist, remember, is not really a native and, therefore, finds it necessary to determine when enough is enough, when it is finally time to emerge from the fray of the field to write-up” (Jarvie 2004 34). Sometimes anthropologists do work in their own [known] community, in which case they need to explain the culture in academic terms to foreigners.

At heart there are two places: homespace and ‘away,’ and the two main characters: protagonist/ anthropologist and the locals. Appadurai, using the term “natives,” writes an excellent description:

Natives are in one place, a place to which explorers, administrators, missionaries, and eventually anthropologists, come… Natives are those who are somehow confined to places by their connection to what the place permits…They are confined by what they know, feel, and believe. They are prisoners of their ‘mode of thought’… [they are] are in one place, a place to which explorers, administrators, missionaries, and eventually anthropologists, come (1988 37)

I use “locals” because natives are often not native. Where I work one group claims the status as “natives” but most people I know explain that their tribe originated in another place and moved here centuries ago. In anthropology and movies, the locals are the “marked” set – they are different, distinct. They are the ones who are maybe magic, maybe from another planet, and as the protagonist/ anthropologist is gathering information about the locals, the locals are gathering information about the protagonist/ anthropologist.

There are multitudes of dangers: misunderstanding the locals, over-identifying with locals, romantic entanglements, being pulled into fights (siding with one group of locals against another group of locals, with outsiders against locals or with locals against outsiders) or, most dangerously, switching loyalties and becoming local.

The key film for the last possibility is Avatar (2009), anthropology porn. The hero Jake (Sam Worthington) effortlessly melds with the locals, not needed the pedantic knowledge-based approach of Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) and Norm Spellman (Joel David Moore). Jake learns, adapts and in the end blends seamlessly into the local society. From my experience, anthropologists are more similar to Richie Lanz (Bill Murray) in Rock the Kasbah (2015) and Kim Baker (Tina Fey) in Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (2016); they arrive lost and clueless, acquire some hard-won knowledge and leave with a better sense of all that they don’t know.

Kids’ and Action Movies – A Short Taxonomy

Two kinds of popular movies often have a character leaving homespace and attempting to understand, perhaps assimilate, into new territory for survival purposes: kids’ and action movies. Kids’ movies are interesting because the new land is adulthood which, once crossed into, can’t be left. The homespace, childhood, is left behind forever. I think part of the reason Avatar was so popular is that it shows that even after you grow up, you can revert to Peter Pan. Jake was a child, became a soldier and then has the chance to go live in a brightly colored, happy culture where he is the equivalent of royalty.

 Action movies are also useful for thinking about representations of anthropology because it’s a genre in which assuming one knows how to navigate unfamiliar territory is almost always punished. Many action (and horror) films are based on the principle of a person going to (or staying in) a place the locals shun and getting chomped.

Without trying to be comprehensive, I would like to briefly sketch out how movies might be sorted out in terms of an protagonist/ anthropologist v. local framework. First, there are the self-contained alien places; people from different areas might interact but there is no one from outside the invented framework, i.e. Hobbit (2012)/ Lord of the Rings (2001, 2002, 2003), Princess Bride (1987), Golden Compass (2007), Star Wars and all the Star Trek iterations.

There are movies in which someone goes to a foreign land in a way which can’t be duplicated such as an innate ability for the main characters as with Inkheart (2008), the Harry Potter films and Stardust (2007); a foreign object that enmeshes you such as the board game in Jumanji (1995); or a location in movies for children such as the Never-ending Story (1984), the three Chronicles of Narnia films (2005, 2008 and 2010), and Night at the Museum (2006, 2009, 2014); in action and horror movies, someone finds or makes a portal such as Stargate (1994).

 A third type is the protagonist/ anthropologist figure who ends up in foreign territory inadvertently, as with the children’s’ movies Lost in the Desert/ Dirkie (1969/1970), Walkabout (1971), A Far-Off Place (1993) and countless action/ horror movies such as Pitch Black (2000), and even in cases when the “locals” are not even sentient such as the deadly vines in The Ruins (2008). In this kind of movie, the protagonist/ anthropologist figure needs to get up to speed quickly on the local culture or die.

 A fourth type is when the protagonist/ anthropologist is ordered into the foreign territory. In children’s movies this is usually because the parents have moved, for example Tiger Eyes (2012) and Inside Out (2015). In the action/ horror genres is it usually because of military orders, i.e. Avatar (2009) and Billy-Lynn’s Long Half Time Walk (2016).

Sometimes the protagonist/ anthropologist goes deliberately into the new territory specifically to learn about the people, as with Spiderwick (2008) and Epic (2013) for children and the Relic (1997), Rock the Kasbah (2015) and Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (2016). Some of the action movies throw in a romantic twist, as in Continental Divide (1981) and Crocodile Dundee (1986). At the end of all of these types of movies, the protagonist/ anthropologist usually returns to the homespace having learned about the place and him/herself – “other” serves as a place to grow and develop as with A Far-Off Place (1993) and Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017) and whoever survives in the horror/ action movies. In some movies the portal stays open and the protagonist/ anthropologist manages a way to stay connected to homespace and the “other”; this happens most often in children’s movies such as Night at the Museum (2006, 2009, 2014), Spiderwick (2008) and Epic (2013).

Another option is that the protagonist/ anthropologist will choose the new territory and stay there forever, again this is usual in children’s movies when the main character has a magical connection to the new land such as the three Chronicles of Narnia films (2005, 2008 and 2010), and Stardust (2007). For children without inherent magic, those who choose the new territory are always seen as “lost,” as with the Emerald Forest (1985). This type of ending is so perilous, the ending of the books are changed when made into movies so that the child safely reassimilates as with Light in the Forest (1958) and Jungle Book (1967 version). This tension fuels all the versions of Tarzan.

In adult movies, choosing the new territory over homespace is also almost always dangerous. In a few cases, the protagonist is no longer ‘at home’ in the homespace and accepts a better life with the new culture, as with Dances with Wolves (1990) and Avatar (2009), but most often the protagonist/ anthropologist becomes trapped in a nightmarish existence as with Silence (2016).

 The movement can be reversed in which a “local” person from the “marked” territory comes to the “normal” world. This is a staple in children’s movies: Mary Poppins (1964), Peter Pan (2003)/ Pan (2015), and Nanny McPhee (2005). In action movies, the out-of-place character is usually dangerous, i.e. Men in Black (1997), and sometimes danger mixed with humor, i.e. Rush Hour (1998). The “local” usually rejects the “normal” space, for example The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980) and Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002).    

 Movies in which the “local” comes into the “normal” space and successfully assimilates are almost always comedy and romantic, i.e. Enchanted (2007). If not romantic, then it’s usually the sub-genre of sci-fi/ horror such as with the Species and Alien franchises.

The Dangers of Static Frames of Reference and Moving Knowledge

The movies I am most interested in are the ones which center on two aspects of knowledge: learning and bringing it home. In their classic anthropology text, Michrina and Richards explain that the anthropologist “gathers data,” “attributes some meaning” and “constructs an understanding of the whole group from interpreted pieces of data,” most importantly by placing “him- or herself in a ‘one-down’ position in trying to obtain an understanding from informants” (1996 7, 23). From this ‘one-down’ position, one gathers knowledge that is for the benefit, in Jarvie’s term, of the “home society”:

The ethnographic report (E) is evidence about (not part of) the anthropology of a society (S). The anthropological book (B) discussing E is part of the anthropological history (AH) not of the society (S), but of its home society (HS). (1983 324)

 Or as Agar puts it, “The important part was to come home and address colleagues in anthropologese” (2011 10). This can all go wrong in so many terrible (when it happens to you as an anthropologist) and fabulous (when you watch it on a screen) ways.

Static Frames of Reference

 The first danger is not seeing what is in front of you. This is the standard opening of so many entertaining movies in which a character (usually one of the first to be munched) declares something along the lines of: the bats are sure acting funny these days, seems like a lot of spiders around, we have all possible security precautions in place, or of course the sharks can’t learn how to…. Large footprints by the lake, a jump in temperature readings, something that looks like an egg but couldn’t possibly be an egg, etc. are explained away because the people in charge know what is there, know what is what, know what is going on and know what will happen. Until the T-Rex eats them.

 Exactly like anthropologists arriving in “local space” with a knowledge of the language, a living stipend and a research plan approved by their advisor and the university ethics board only to find out that the plan won’t work. It means fully preparing to study X, arriving in the “local space” and realizing that studying X is not possible; for example in Menoret’s Joyriding in Riyadh: Oil, Urbanism, and Road Revolt (2014).

  In Behind the Veil in Arabia: Women in Oman, Wikan writes, “I harbored a dream to meet the real, authentic Arabia” (1982 3). However, Wikan notes that the women’s “calm, quiet, self-control, that mute self-assured poise, was to prove the major obstacle all the way through to getting to know, really to know, the Soharis” (10). In the introduction and appendix, Wikan makes it clear that she finally understood after leaving Oman that this “gracious facade” (13) was the fundamental truth, “what matters is how the other acts, not what he or she ‘really’ thinks”; it is “an axiom of Omani culture that persons are endowed with different natures which determine the way they behave. It is for others to acknowledge and accept this” (13, 238).

 This kind of anthropological journey of understanding is portrayed in cinematic terms in Kong: Skull Island (2017) in which the characters learn that what they thought was the problem, isn’t the problem. Watching Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) argue that Kong is the enemy which needs to be destroyed teaches the viewer two important lessons: don’t let traumatized survivors make tactical decisions and don’t take out the target unless you understand ramifications.

 The film is made with the battle lines of good vs. evil, the hero battling the monster. But I read it as the protagonists (who are not exactly heroes) battling their own dangerously static frames of reference for understanding. At the beginning of Kong Gunpei Ikari (Miyavi) and Hank Marlow (John C. Reilly) think they are each other’s enemy until they realize there is a bigger threat. Bill Randa (John Goodman), the only survivor of a battleship which was destroyed by an undescribed monster, comes to the island looking to flush out and kill the monster(s) he assumes are there. When Kong appears in response to the bombs dropped by Randa and starts swatting the helicopters, it is assumed he is the dangerous monster which needs to be killed.

 James Conrad (Tom Hiddleston), Mason Weaver (Brie Larson) and the soldiers think they are looking at walls when they are looking at people; a soldier sits on a log which is actually an insect, which he shoots, although it is harmless, and the noise of the gun bring the actual danger. Other soldiers think the legs of a giant spider are tree trunks and that a giant moose is an island. Everyone from off-island thinks Kong is the threat but it’s actually the “skull crawlers.” In the final fight, the soldiers, scientists and journalist distract the large skull crawler, but it’s Kong who (before and again now) saves the day. The interlopers brought the monster up out of the ground with their bombs; Kong has to clean up the mess.

 One of the characters, Hank, is the patron saint of people like me who, having lived and researched as an expat in a foreign country for an extended period of time, must deal with newly arrived researchers happy to explain everything to me. Hank, who has been stuck on the island for decades, brings the newly arrived soldiers, scientists and journalists to the local’s village. When the male and female leaders come to meet the group, Hank looks at them silently. After a minute, the two locals bow their heads slightly. Hank says quietly, “Thank you, thank you,” then turns to the Americans and says more loudly, “So, good news, they say you can shack up here.” The lead soldier says, “I didn’t hear them say anything.” Later Hank mutters, “I’ve only been here 28 years, what do I know,” as the soldiers insist on walking into a death trap.

That’s my life. I do research with a group of people who signal violent disagreement with an almost inaudible intake of breath, show anger with a barely perceptible tensing of the body, express displeasure by giving compliments and say “Yes, we will definitely…” when they mean, “No.” Trying to explain this to other expats and researchers leads to the question: “Well why don’t they just say what they mean?” They are saying what they mean, just in signals and words outsiders don’t correctly decipher, often thinking that there is nothing to decipher.

The same faulty premise of an anthropologist landing in new territory and believing they understand what is happening runs through the Predator movies. Both Kong and Predator are fundamentally about the painful process of realizing one’s misunderstandings and recalibrating knowledge

In the original Predator (1987), an elite military team is sent to a central American jungle to rescue a “cabinet minister.” They soon realize that the premise was a set-up and that they, in turn, are being hunted by an alien Predator. Lied to by the CIA agent, lost in every sense of the word, the group are killed off one by one and the hero survives by covering himself in mud, the ultimate blending into the landscape. One woman also survives.

The sequel, Predator 2 (1990), was less successful: I believe partially because it has the more standard premise of ‘alien creatures show up and get killed.’ There’s nothing new or remarkable in terms of theory or execution.

However, the third iteration takes an interesting turn. Predators (2010) starts with several humans waking up in the middle of a parachute drop into a tropical forest similar to the one in Predator. The ones who survive the drop band together when it becomes clear that they are being hunted by a team of 3 super-evolved Predators. They eventually realize that they are on a different planet and they were assembled because “we’re the monsters of our own world,” a serial killer, a gangster, a drug lord, etc.

A human who has survived serval hunting seasons eventually betrays them and the two remaining humans end up untying a captured, lesser-evolved Predator to help them fight. When all the Predators are dead, the remaining man and woman look up to see another group of humans dropping in parachutes and walk away to see if there is a way off the planet with a hopelessness equivalent of Charlton Heston at the end of Planet of the Apes (1968).

The set-up of Predator, the person pursuing knowledge who ends up as prey, is also found in the low-budget Alien vs. Predator (2004) in which a team of scientists and military looking for a mysterious pyramid under Antarctica find themselves in the middle of a fight between the Alien and Predator monsters. The small band of survivors eventually align with the Predator, as Predators and humans are ruthless hunters with a veneer of mortality while the Aliens are simply killers.[1] It’s notable that the only person to survive is a woman of color; in the original Predator, the only survivors are a Latina woman and Arnold.

The last film in the series, Alien vs. Predator – Requiem (2007), is like Predator 2. The Predator’s spaceship seen at the very end of Alien vs. Predator is carrying an Alien. When this is discovered, the fight onboard leads to the spaceship crashing in a small-town Colorado and the townspeople are caught in the middle of the fight between the two species. [2] 

If you sidestep the gore, the first and third movies in the series focus on the danger of thinking you know what you are getting into when navigating new territory and species. In the first Predator, Arnold thinks the enemy are the “guerillas” who shot down a helicopter and took hostages. He is very clear that he only does “rescue missions.” After killing a lot of people, he and his soldiers realize the CIA set them up; it’s a CIA mission, not rescue. Angry at this betrayal, they take the only surviving guerilla as hostage and try to get back to a place where they can be picked up by helicopter. As the move through the thick jungle landscape, they realize the real threat is something else, a creature with super powers which they can’t see. The Predator is not only stalking them, but studying them, recording and practicing their words.

 The hostage “enemy” is the one who understands what is going on but won’t trust Arnold with the truth until he cuts off her handcuffs and treats her as an equal. He, finally understanding the situation, kicks a gun out of her hands as he realizes the Predator only hunts prey worth killing, i.e. something that is trying to kill it. He tells her to run and draws attention to himself to allow her to escape.

Arnold then learns, by accident, that being covered in mud masks him from the Predator’s infrared sight. At the end of the movie, the Predator takes off its’ armor, as it wants to kill Arnold on equal terms; both the Predator and Arnold build traps to catch each other. Arnold backs out of the Predator’s trap but manages to catch the Predator in his trap. The Predator then sets off a massive explosion, assuming it will destroy evidence of itself and kill Arnold.

 In other words, the anthropologist arrives in country assured of moral superiority (Arnold only does “rescues”), starts to research, realizes all previously held assumptions are wrong, learns the “enemy” is actually the most helpful person, and it is not just previous training (how to build traps) but sacrifice, luck, and caution that allow success.

 The next movie, Predators, shows that it’s not just a matter of following Helmuth von Moltke’s advice that “no plan survives contact with the enemy,” but that one often can’t figure out what or who the enemy is. The characters first assume the other humans are the adversary, then realize it’s the Predators, then comprehend that there are different kinds of Predators, and lastly, that some of the humans are actually the most dangerous opponent.[3] A Mexican drug cartel enforcer, a Spetsnaz soldier, an Israel Defense Forces sniper, a Revolutionary United Front office, a Yakuza enforcer, and a mercenary/ former Black Ops soldier can’t see that it’s the meek doctor who is the biggest hazard to survival.

  The humans are constantly misreading the landscape by not understanding that they are on a different planet, they need to band together against the Predators, the person who comes to their ‘rescue’ is leading them into a trap and the doctor is only pretending to help them.

To look at the situation from the other perspective, the Predator arrives on Earth to hunt for material, figures out the locals are gathering knowledge about it as it is gathering knowledge about the locals, believes itself to be fully capable of decoding the landscape (unaware of the concealing properties of mud), and finally comprehends how far behind the learning curve it is. In Predators the aliens misread the situation, assuming they are the ones in charge of what is happening, not imagining that some of the humans will set the lesser-evolved Predator loose to hunt them.[4]

  The real-world implications of this are important. In an article about killings of Americans by Afghan security forces, Nissenbaum (2011) mentions the Afghani perceptions of Americans “violent, reckless, intrusive, arrogant, self-serving, profane, infidel bullies hiding behind high technology” and the American perceptions of Afghanis: “cowardly, incompetent, obtuse, thieving, complacent, lazy, pot-smoking, treacherous and murderous rascals.”

 In a later article, Nissenbaum (2012) quotes the draft of a US Army handbook, “Understand that they may have poor conflict resolution skills and that insults cause irrational escalation of violence.” Who do you think the “they” refers to? Who exactly have the “poor conflict resolution skills” and who cause an “irrational escalation of violence” if insulted?

Discussing this handbook, Mullins (2012) writes that it “takes the position that the killings of coalition forces by Afghans security personnel is caused at least in part by a cultural ignorance of some American and European troops in dealing with Afghans.”

 I know that hunt for information predominantly from one side, me talking to the local men in my research group, asking questions, trying out theories, watching, taking notes, reading other researchers etc., but I have also been on the receiving end of the hunt for information when relatives of female friends try to proselytize me. My friends know that I will not change my religion, but they can’t simply tell the other women “she won’t convert” as that would be impolite. I always smile and give my standard answer that “I can’t change from the religion of my parents,” and I tell my friends to make sure everyone knows that my friends have tried often to convert me.

 Often the women back down after a few tries, but some keep fighting. They try to explain Islam to me and when my friends say that I have read about it, they express frustration. They can’t understand how someone who lives in a Muslim country, who knows about Islam could refuse to become Muslim. They have found peace and joy in their religion and wish the same blessing for me; that I would find peace in my own religion makes no sense. There’s always a sameness and a sadness to these conversations: I am sitting in their style of clothes, at their relative’s house, speaking their language, why aren’t I crossing over to their religion?

 Sometimes people’s frameworks can stretch. I was sitting on a beach with one of the men (Z) in my research group and he asked if I had ever been married. I said no; one man wanted to ask me, but he wanted me at home with children and I… I paused. Z was a very religious, conservative man, and I wasn’t sure how he would take my choice. He waited a moment, then said, “You wanted to see the world, you wanted your career.” Z made the jump; he could envision the path to happiness that was right for me, although it was antithetical to his all beliefs. People talk about failure to communicate, but I think it’s actually a failure to imagine the possible correctness of actions that aren’t correct for you.

Moving Knowledge Between Homespace and Local

A second type of film focuses on the time after the protagonists/ anthropologists have finally acquired the knowledge that they left the homespace to acquire. What they know has to be codified/ organized/ structured and made to fit into homespace norms. But what happens when the knowledge so changes the person that there is no way to explain what one knows? As Tedlock explains

It is as though fieldwork were supposed to give us two totally independent things: reportable significant knowledge and unreportable mysticism and high adventure. If we were so foolish as to make the mistake of combining these elements, it would somehow seriously discredit our entire endeavor. (1991 71)

The danger for the academic Whittlesey in the Relic (1997) is he gets his high adventure, but it’s so unreportable, that he can’t impart the scientific knowledge he picked up along the way. In the book The Relic (1995), there is a thought-out reason why the culture created a way to turn a human into a monster, but the movie starts with the anthropologist Dr. Julian Whittlesey (Lewis van Bergan) being offered a “local” beverage during a night-time ceremony. In the quest for authentic knowledge, he drinks it and turns into a monster.

The slogan on the movie poster is: “They did the unthinkable. They brought it back.” But it’s misleading, there’s no “they,” only Whittlesey and “it” wasn’t “brought back,” he returns of his own volition. The movie ad plays on the assumption that danger is from outside, but the monster is Whittlesey, who returns to the museum where he worked. He’s got all the “local” knowledge he was so hungry for – an amazing scientific discovery about gene mutation, now that he can’t fit back into his homespace and he’s killed. The movie gives a fictional rendering of the danger of the protagonist/ anthropologist going “native,” not being able to create the necessary academic distance.

 The characters printed with words in Inkheart (2008) are another fictional representation of the chaos created when a person is caught between two worlds. “Half read out of the book,” they live in the “normal” world but words from the books they come from are etched on their skin to show they are still partially attached to their homespace. They can’t live fully in either space. As T.E. Lawrence in his classic Seven Pillars of Wisdom writes:

In my case the efforts of three years to live in the dress of Arabs, and to imitate their mental foundations, quitted me of my English self and let me look at the West and its conventions with new eyes; they destroyed it all for me. At the same time I could not sincerely take on the Arab skin; it was an affectation only. Easily was a man made an infidel…Sometimes these selves would converse in the void: and then madness was very near, as I believe it would be near the man who could see things through the veils at once of two customs, two educations, two environments. (1953 30)

In Steve Caton’s book about the movie, Lawrence of Arabia, Caton expands on this theme:

According to the movie, the cost of living with such a split cultural identity for a man like Lawrence is madness or burnout. This view is very much a modernist one, expounding the need for a stable, grounded, and holistic subject, no matter how complex and ambiguous that subject may be. The idea that a person could contain many different identities, depending on the context of action, some of the contradictory, is something that we are only now beginning to entertain as same and perhaps even desirable in a “postmodern” world. (1999 166)

Agar talks about what happens when two people “encounter each other in a way that estranges them from themselves” (2011 15). When I meet one of the local men in my research group in a public place like a café, every person who sees us, local or expat, codes our relationship as romantic. It isn’t but there is no way to make that clear. A large neon sign with the words “NOPE – JUST RESEARCH” would be seen as protesting too much. We want to talk and it’s not appropriate for him to come to my apartment nor me to his, so we meet, talk then go home to face our respective communities.

Discussion

  Beyond the fact that it’s not a good sign that soldiers stumbling around in foreign lands shooting people are so easily compared to anthropologists, what is the lesson of Kong and Predators? I don’t want to hash out or join the ‘anthropologists as government-funded oppressors’ argument, but to focus on one aspect: their certainty.

 Many expat researchers I have met have been imbued with a sense of conviction I find both admirable and lamentable. I don’t want to break the confidence of someone setting out in the field, but it is worrying to have so many conversations in which I am told X is dangerous, when it is not, and that Y is not dangerous, when it actually is. Not dangerous in the terms of large apes, aliens or lizards, but dangerous in terms of getting in the way of accomplishing one’s research.

I know researchers who have come with prestigious scholarships and fellowships who have told me that they have no interest or need in talking to the locals. Others seem unprepared for the draining emotional and mental displacement that living in a foreign country, no matter how beautiful the scenery and how charming the people, entails. Some brush aside my caution that living on someone else’s terms is difficult.

 When I sit on a beach with local men from my research group, they are never my antagonists. My misunderstandings, cultural prejudices, inability to get out of my own perspective and inattention to detail are what are holding me back from understanding. I have had luminous times, moments of clarity and insight, but also a lot of time spent cold, wet, exhausted, and hungry.

 “It’s all different,” I try to explain to researchers and am told something along the lines of, “Yes, of course, I know, I understand” but when the difference happens, the results are almost always painful. Agar says, “It is obvious that social/ cultural anthropology translates various emic ‘cultures’ into a shared etic framework” (2011 5) but what happens when the researcher and I, both expats, can’t find that shared framework? It is a mystery to me why, although here are frequent misunderstandings between me and my research group, I feel cultural gaps most frequently when talking to people whose life’s work is reaching across cultural gaps.

References

Agar, Michael. 2011. Making Sense of One Other for Another: Ethnography as Translation. Ethknoworks LLC. http://www.ethknoworks.com/files/Language_and_Communication_article.pdf

Appadurai, Arjun. 1988. “Putting Hierarchy in its Place.” Cultural Anthropology 3.1: 36-49.

Caton, Steve. 1999. Lawrence of Arabia: A Film’s Anthropology. Oakland, CA: University of California Press.

Jarvie, I.C. 1983. “The Problem of the Ethnographic Real.” Current Anthropology 24.3: 313-325.

Mullins, Michael. 2012, Dec. 12. “Top US Commander in Afghanistan Rejects Cultural Sensitivity Handbook.” The Washington Post http://www.newsmax.com/TheWire/afghanistan-cultural-sensitivity-handbook/2012/12/12

Lawrence, T. E. 2008 [1935]. The Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph. London: Vintage Books.

Michrina, Barry and Cherylanne Richards. 1996. Person to Person: Fieldwork, Dialogue and the Hermeneutic Method. Albany: State Univ. of NY Press.

Menoret, Pascal. 2014. Joyriding in Riyadah: Oil, Urbanism, and Road Revolt. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Nissenbaum, Dion. 2011, June 17. “Report Sees Danger in Local Allies: Study Says Killings of Americans by Afghan Security Forces Represent a ‘Systematic Threat’ to the U.S. War Effort.” The Wall Street Journal http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702303499204576389763385348

Nissenbaum, Dion. 2012, Dec. 11. “Draft Army Handbook Wades into Divisive Afghan Issue.” The Wall Street Journal. https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887324024004578171561230647852

Tedlock, Barbara. 1991. “From Participant Observation to the Observation of Participation: The Emergence of Narrative Ethnography.” Journal of Anthropological Research 47: 69-94.

Wikan, Unni. 1982. Behind the Veil in Arabia: Women in Oman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Other articles about culture and/ or movies

Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1991. “Writing Against Culture.” In Recapturing Anthropology, ed. Richard Fox. Santa Fe, N.M.: School of American Research Press. 137-62.

Brumann, Christoph. 1999. “Writing for Culture: Why a Successful Concept Should Not Be Discarded,” In Culture, a Second Chance? Supplement Special Issues Current Anthropology 40: S1-13.

Jackson, John. 2004. “An Ethnographic Filmflam, Giving Gifts, Doing Research and Videotaping the Native Subject/Object.” American Anthropologist 106.1: 32-42. 

Morphy, Howard. 1994. “The Interpretation of Ritual: Reflections from Film on Anthropological Practices.” Man 29: 117-146.

Movies Mentioned

Alien (1979)

Alien vs. Predator (2004)

Alien vs. Predator – Requiem (2007)

Avatar (2009)

Billy-Lynn’s Long Half Time Walk (2016)

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian (2008)

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010)

Continental Divide (1981)

Crocodile Dundee (1986)

Dances with Wolves (1990)

Emerald Forest (1985)

Enchanted (2007)

Epic (2013)

A Far-Off Place (1993)

The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)

Godzilla (2014)

Golden Compass. (2007)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001)
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (2002)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.(2005)
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007)
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (2009)
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 1 (2010), Part 2 (2011)

Hobbit (2012)

Hurt Locker (2008)

Inkheart (2008)

Inside Out (2015)

Jumanji (1995)

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)

Jungle Book (1967 version)

Kong: Skull Island (2017)

Light in the Forest (1958)

Lord of the Rings (2001, 2002, 2003),

Lost in the Desert/ Dirkie (1969/1970)

Mary Poppins (1964)

Men in Black (1997)

Nanny McPhee (2005)

Night at the Museum (2006, 2009, 2014)

Pan (2015)

Passengers (2016)

A Perfect Day (2016)

Peter Pan (2003)

Pitch Black (2000)

Planet of the Apes (1968)

Predator (1987)

Predator 2 (1990

Predators (2010)

Princess Bride (1987)

Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002)

The Relic (1997)

Rock the Kasbah (2015)

The Ruins (2008)

Rush Hour (1998)

Silence (2016)

Soldier’s Home (1977)

Species (1995)

Spiderwick (2008)

Star Wars Episode IThe Phantom Menace (1999)

Star Wars: Episode II—Attack of the Clones (2002)

Star Wars: Episode III—Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Star Wars Episode IV A New Hope (1977)

Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Star Wars: Episode VI—Return of the Jedi (1983)

Star Wars: Episode VII—The Force Awakens (2015)

Star Wars: Episode VIIThe Last Jedi (2017)

Stardust (2007)

Tarzan (with various titles and subtitles, 1932, 1981, 1984, 1999, 2013, 2016)

Tiger Eyes (2012)

Walkabout (1971)

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (2016)

            [1] The other point of difference is that Aliens incubate in humans, while Predators take human skeletons as trophies. Bursting out of one’s stomach is generally seen as more awful than displaying one’s bones. Another researcher could look at the importance of physiognomy in the hierarchy of monsters but in match-ups, the more human-like/ less insect-like one always win: Predator vs. Alien, Godzilla vs. MUTO, Kong vs. Skull-crawlers, etc. Further, the Predator has the human aspect of laughing in contemplation of a future event at the end of Predator.

            [2] My point about people who go looking for something and find an alien is more interesting than “aliens show up and get killed”  is somewhat confirmed by review percentages: Predator (1987) (Rotten Tomatoes Tomatometer 80 / Rotten Tomatoes Audience Score 87 – 7.8 IMDB), Predator 2 (1990) (28/43 – 6.2), Predators (2010) (64/51 – 6.4), Alien vs. Predator (2004) (20/ 39 – 5.6), Alien vs. Predator – Requiem (2007) (11/ 30 – 4.7). The ranking is Predator (killers become prey), Predators (killers become prey), Predator 2 (aliens show up), Alien vs. Predator (scientist become prey), Alien vs. Predator – Requiem (aliens show up).

            [3] The same sequence obtains in the 2014 version of Godzilla. In the opening credits, Godzilla is the monster, but it turns out that Godzilla is the only one who can save humans from the truly destructive monster, the “Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organism.”

            [4] There is no escaping the grisly comparisons. A Predator standing in a tree holding up a skull, “Hey look at the thing from a foreign culture that I procured for myself” and me holding up what I have accumulated: an oryx horn, an old and traditionally made piece of fabric, a porcupine quill, a handmade basket, etc.

Predator article 

Reflections on Ethnographic Work: The Grasshopper

My Favorite Description of Anthropology

“Yemen with Yul,” travel essay published

 

 

New essay: “’Ghayn is for Ghazal” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

“The Arabic Alphabet” website (written by Michael Beard, illustrated by Houman Mortazavi) – http://alifbatourguide.com/

Ghayn is for ghazal – https://alifbatourguide.com/the-arabic-alphabet/ghazal/

Excerpt:

Shahrazâd’s opening story, the one which initiates the story-telling marathon, famously, keeps replicating itself in miniature. Shahrazâd is telling stories to save her life, but it’s not just her: time after time, in the manner of a fractal, characters in her stories are saved by story-telling too. (There is a beautiful essay by Tzvetan Todorov which says it plainly – that, in the Nights, stories are life. If you’re a character in a fiction, tell a story. What else keeps you alive? The plan is working for Shahrazad.)

In her, by now, familiar opening story, where the merchant, traveling on business, sits down to eat lunch under a tree, it’s familiar ground of traditional story-telling. The self-sufficient individual out alone on the road runs into an obstacle and encounters a challenge. Stories of chivalry in European tradition open that way; they hardly open any other way, with the knight setting off on a quest or perhaps just wandering. The reader is likely to imagine a context where the merchant’s business has taken him to the margin, the غایة , ghâya, limit of human society, a غابةghâba, a forest. In that opening scene, when he reaches into his pack, takes out lunch, and eats, innocently throwing the date pits over his shoulder behind him, he is the picture of vulnerability (not a knight out looking for adventure). It suggests (at least for me) a secure world where merchants can travel alone, settling down to غذاءghadhâ, food, without fear. When the ‘ifrit appears, huge and menacing, to say the merchant must die, it is enough of a disruption to be horrifying, but it’s funny too, and probably less familiar ground for a traditional story. The monster has a motive for being غضبانghad͎bân, angry, though the fact that a flying date pit has killed his son doesn’t register as tragic. We know that sons don’t always resemble their fathers, but an ‘ifrît’s son so fragile that he is killed by a date pit seems an extreme case. (Is this son legitimate?) We also know that we aren’t going to be very frightened by what follows.

The text tells us that everything we’re reading is a spoken story, since we are hearing Shahrzâd’s voice, but the truth is that we are reading it rather than hearing it. This has some advantages. Readers of a story can skip from episode to another, free to speed things up or slow them down. Such is the advantage the alphabet gives us over a listener like King Shahzamân. We can freeze-frame the story, knowing what will happen, and we can be surprised each time we read it (or imagine ourselves surprised, which may be just as good). When the merchant asks for a grace period to settle his affairs and say goodbye to his family, promising to be back at the beginning of the new year, a whole unexpected social world opens up because the‘ifrît accepts, immediately, without an argument. His hyperbolic trust is perhaps as funny as the date pit which kills his son — funny, but it is also, surprisingly, to me, moving. The `ifrît‘s surprising trust is one thing; then when the new year arrives and the merchant actually shows up (thus demonstrating that we can trust him too) we are at the extremes of trust. Exaggeration is funny, but I wonder if it also tells us something about the respect the culture shows for travelers. We expect them to keep their word. It is a world where traveling salesmen are positive figures.

Does everyone know the sequel? While the merchant is waiting to be executed, an old man walks by (the kind of respected mature individual referred to as a shaykh) leading a غزالة, a ghazâla on a chain. (Why just then? Don’t ask. No story, the Chinese proverb says, without a coincidence.) Later there will follow two additional shuyûkh, one with a pair of dogs and one with a she-mule, but it is the ghazâla we remember. In part, of course, the reason is on the surface: a ghazâla is synonymous with beauty.

غزالة is a beautiful word both in its Arabic form and in its guise as a loan word in English, gazelle. In European narrative tradition we are more likely to use the gazelle to characterize elegance of motion, but in Arabic its beauty is in the eyes, which are likely to resemble what Edgar Allan Poe emphasizes when he describes the title character in “Ligeia”: “They were, I must believe, far larger than the ordinary eyes of our own race. They were even fuller than the fullest of the gazelle eyes of the tribe of the valley of Nourjahad.” (In the interest of scrupulous accuracy – Nourjahad doesn’t exist in our world; a note in the edition edited by Hardin Craig notes that the phrase comes from a novel, History of Nourjahad [1767] by Sidney Bidulph, pseudonym of Mrs. Frances Sheridan. Poe almost makes you want to read it.) The esthetic of big eyes is everywhere. Cartoon figures and stuffed animals meant to appeal to our sentiments are often portrayed with oversize eyes. (Over the years Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse evolved eyes which hardly seem to leave room for brains.) I wonder if pandas would still have their reputation of cuteness if they didn’t have those big patches surrounding their eyes, looking as if they were eyes in reality.

New essay: “’Ayn is for Arab” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

New essay: “Ẓâ is for Ẓarf” on “The Arabic Alphabet” website (by Michael Beard)

New Essay: “Ṭâ Is For Talisman” on The Arabic Alphabet website

‘Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman’ is accepted for publication

I am happy to announce that my 5th book, Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman, has been accepted for publication. I would like to thank Onaiza Shaikh for letting me use her beautiful photos for this book and my webpage. Onaiza writes: “I was born and raised in the beautiful city of Salalah, Oman. Though I’m an Indian citizen, my roots in Salalah run deep, the city holds a special place in my heart and continues to shape who I am.”

Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman explains the choices middle-class Dhofari men and women make when creating a life together. Based on 19 years observations of and discussions about Omani marriages, the book shows all the steps of marriage including how people decide to get married, the wedding invitations and parties are arranged, the newlyweds’ home is organized, the work within a marriage is delineated and a marriage succeeds or falls apart. Unlike many texts about family life on the Arabian Peninsula, the author spoke extensively to both men and women.

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

Ethnography: Conversations about Men/ Masculinity, part 1

Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman

Food Often Served at Weddings in Dhofar

My Favorite Description of Anthropology

The patience and tolerance to live harmoniously in an unfamiliar culture; the fortitude to be content with less than comfortable circumstances for prolonged periods; an understanding of and sympathy with a foreign history and religion; a willingness to learn a new language; the flexibility, imagination and humility necessary to climb into the head of people who live by a very different set of assumptions; none of these are found automatically in our modern developed Euro-Atlantic culture. (Gardiner, In the Service of the Sultan, 174)

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Recreating Culture – Lessons from Bakeries and Cafeterias

Research: Article on Theodore and Mabel Bent Has Been Published

Back from Ubar or What to Read if You Insist on Staying Home

Back from Ubar or What to Read if You Insist on Staying Home

I am re-reading Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World (1922), one of my favorite travel books as it is an excellent description of people clinging to ‘civilization’ in difficult circumstances. This is an essay I wrote in 2004 about travel books. 

[O]ur passions are never accidental. We do not by chance…decide to specialize in epaulets  (Evan Connell, A Long Desire)

Friends of mine have a little house on a two-acre island in a small lake in quiet Ontario. I woke up one morning there and realized that from that point on, I would be going back – back in the boat to shore, back in my friend’s van across the border to the bus station, back on a bus to the train station, back in a train to the city where I lived, back on the metro to the station near my house, back in a taxi to my house. It amused me, that from that point I was merely retracing steps. As I was about to walk down to the dock, I realized I was on the very outer limit of the web.

In Women’s Ways of Knowing, the authors posit that women feel more comfortable being in the middle of connections (webs) while men prefer the edge. Perhaps one of the reasons I like traveling and reading about traveling, is that I get to go all the way out to edge and peer over. I rather enjoy edges, that moment you realize the limitations. I like ‘you can’t get there from here’ and all those Italian strikes that keep you stranded for days. I love the moment when the subway car goes underground and the annoying guy yelling into his cell phone suddenly pulls it away from his ear with disgust and shoves it into his bag. You get to the farthest point and there you are, stuck; you now have to wait, turn around, finagle, throw a hissy fit.

If I was going to be perfectly honest about it – I’d say close your computer and go buy Road to Oxiana, West with the Night, Three Men in a Boat, Caesar’s Vast Ghost and The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but I am so seldom able to make people do what they ought to, even when, perhaps especially when, I know what is best. Those are all real travel books, this is a semi-travel essay. But although I’m not promising enjoyment (go read Mark Salzman), you will get a little edification, like it or don’t.

The question is not now, not ever, “why travel?” The solar system travels, Earth travels, you travel. The question is why travel outside of those tiny, minuscule patches of territory you know. “Ahem,” says a voice in the back, “I have lived in Boston all my life, hardly minuscule.”

But do you know where the Tufts college students party, the best Bollywood theater, the real Italian place in Little Italy, where to get your eyebrows threaded, where the cops drink? Do you know Jamaica Plain and Watertown? A person could live in Back Bay their whole life and never know Quincy. Face it, you don’t really know your hometown. You probably don’t even know your neighbors and, if you haven’t been paying attention, you might not even know yourself.

Yet, traveling is not the way to find yourself in any grand scheme: you go along with yourself and your main insights are ‘I hate grey carpeting’ and ‘McDonald’s has better pancakes than Burger King.’ People are always squawking “Paul Theroux” at me, well read his books – what are his insights? He hates it here. It is dirty and the people aren’t nice. And he also hates it over here. It’s dirty. And, quelle surprise, he hates this other place as well. In addition, he hates it over there, too depressing. And, by coincidence, he is unhappy here as well. The people who are impressed with this are mistaking indigestion for insight.

You will get those (very infrequent) moments of revelation, almost all of which will be exasperatingly saccharine. Like me waking up my first morning in Italy and seeing, through a thick fog, a stone wall which enclosed a grove of olive trees (olive trees!) with sheep grazing underneath.

I went to Corfu, Rhodes, Cyprus, and Provence because I was going to write my dissertation on Gerald Durrell and Lawrence Durrell. Then, I spent the night in a sort of bed and breakfast place in Pathos and realized that after six months, I knew pretty much nothing about the Durrells and I would have to expand my focus to all travel writers. If you can’t fail little – fail big.

Most scholarly books on travel writing take some small selection and examine it closely, such as Janice Bailey-Goldschmidt’s and Martin Kalfatovic’s article, “Sex, Lies and European Hegemony: Travel Literature and Ideology,” which sounds like it covers everything a person would need to know. But is it only about European descriptions of travel in India until 1761.

When I was doing my dissertation on travel writing, I read all over the place: Pausanias’ Description of Greece, 2nd century B.C.; Egeria’s Travels, a European abbess’ account of her travels to the Holy Land c. 385 A.D.; Gustave Flaubert, Isabella Bird, James Fenton, Anthony Smith.

I ran through ’Abdallah ibn Battuta’s Travels in Asia and Africa: 1325-1354; Bernal Diaz’s The Conquest of New Spain, a Spanish soldiers’ account of his part in the defeat of the Aztec empire under Hernán Cortés in 1521; Matsuo Basho’s The Narrow Road to the Deep North, and Other Travel Sketches and Back Roads to Far Towns, a Japanese Buddhist monk’s walking tours from the mid to late 1680s.

I adore the English canonicals: Mary Kingsley’s Travels in West Africa, 1897; Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World, 1922; Laurie Lee’s As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, 1969; Eric Newby’s A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush, 1958.

I read the ones you have to: John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley, 1962; Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia, 1977; Jonathan Raban, Mary Morris, Redmond O’Hanlon, Bill Bryson, and Pico Iyer. And the ones I wanted to: Mark Twain, Mark Salzman, Eric Hansen, Tim Cahill, Calvin Trillin, and Robin Magowan.

It’s a measure of my temperament that I deliberately avoided Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s History of the Expedition under the Command of Lewis and Clark, 1814 and Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, 1841. But I devoured J. R. Ackerley’s Hindoo Holiday: An Indian Journal, 1932; Vikram Seth’s From Heaven Lake: Travels Through Sinkiang and Tibet, 1987; and Anthony Smith’s Blind White Fish in Persia, 1953. What heaven to find No News From Throat Lake by Lawrence Donegan, 2001, Getting Stoned with Savages by J. Maarten Troost, 2006 and Driving Over Lemons by Chris Stewart, 1999.

And then there are the immortals: Gerald Durrell and Lawrence Durrell, Wilfred Thesiger, Dervla Murphy (would someone please knight her? She would probably turn it down but, honestly, the gesture ought to be made); and dear, cranky Amelia Edwards, A Thousand Miles up the Nile, 1877.

I got my Ph.D. and moved to the Middle East to teach. While there, one of the places I wanted to visit was Ubar, a stop on an ancient Arabian trading route whose “refinding” is recounted in breathless, “Entertainment Tonight!” prose in Nicholas Clapp’s The Road to Ubar, 1998. I had thought at one point I was close enough to get to it, but it turned out to be much farther away (slavish attention to maps is the hobgoblin of little minds), but I promised myself that I would figure out how to get to Ubar before I moved back to the States.

This involved finding someone to watch the cat, deciphering out airline schedules, securing hotel reservations, faxing the tour company, getting the right visa: pedestrian, unromantic toils. I woke up on the momentous day and hit the first disappointment, I did not have a “real” tour guide; he was a perfectly pleasant guy, but he wasn’t local and had no good stories. Second disappointment – we weren’t going in a Land Rover. As far as I’m concerned, for land travel it is Land Rover or Land Cruiser pick-up or just stay home.

We drove for hours up through the mountains (I think Eden must have looked like this) and then along through the flat, desiccated landscape until the desert started.

The museum at Ubar was closed, so my guide decided to “show me” the Empty Quarter, the Rub al-Khali, an area of 250,000 squares miles of sand dunes. It is the size of France, Belgium and Holland with sand dunes as high as 925 feet. We continued on the road for a few miles, passed a small collection of derelict buildings, then onto drifting sand where the road disappeared. For about 50 yards. Then the car (did I mention it was NOT a Land Rover?) got stuck. It took us about twenty minutes to get unstuck, then the driver turned right around and we were back on the road, headed back to the hotel.

Perhaps aware that the day was not quite the happy culmination of a year’s hope and expectation, after an hour or so, he pulled off the road, navigating between rock outcroppings until he stopped in front of a small group of stubby, scraggily trees with peeling bark.

“Frankincense!” he exclaimed proudly.

Now this indeed was something. Unexpected and marvelous – to actually see the trees close up, especially since the lore is that they are rigorously guarded. Perhaps the driver took every single tourist to this stand of trees. But it was hidden from the road, without other tire tracks, desolate. A quest fulfilled and an extra, unexpected adventure: it was time to go home. Then I was home and what is there to do at home, except plan the next travel?

Verstehen/ Einfühlen in Arabian Sands (1959): Wilfred Thesiger as Traveler and Anthropologist – 2013

Cultural Refraction: Using Travel Writing, Anthropology and Fiction to Understand the Culture of Southern Arabia – 2009

Research on Travelers and Tourists in Dhofar

“Yemen with Yul,” travel essay published

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – knowing the world

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – being pleasant and helpful

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – explaining

In my book, Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions (Palgrave Macmillan 2025), I have a section about being “close-to-local” on the Arabian Peninsula if you have managed to do one of several actions, the last of which is: mastered the art of listening politely to people who are making statements that you don’t think are true.

When I wrote that I thought, I need to explain that point further as it could be misinterpreted. I don’t mean: have the ability to listen to liars without reacting. I mean: have the ability to understand that people don’t believe what you believe, and it is not your purpose in life to change their mind. This is a skill I call expat veneer.

If you spend a lot of time living overseas and gaining an understanding of how people see the world differently than you and make different choices that you, you often give up the need to make everyone conform to your expectations. You don’t need to talk (much less argue) about everything; you stay in the safe havens of discussing recipes, interesting places to visit, nice hotels and where to buy mouse traps.

When I left Oman and moved back to the States, I decided to live in Cambridge and try to get a job again at MIT. This seemed like merely prudence, go back to a place I knew and job I had experience in, but when I stated at MIT I felt instantly at home.

It wasn’t just that I was reliving my history – it was that my co-workers had the same kind of expat veneer as my friends in Oman. In thinking this through, I realized that many expats and MIT employees come to the same realization along different paths.

For people who have lived in several different countries, there is no reason to get upset if someone eats X for breakfast or has Y religious creed or wears Z type of clothing. Long-term expats have seen people make all sorts of choices that are antithetical to their beliefs, and they are not interested in fighting over every detail of daily life.

MIT employees, especially academics and administrators who are leaders in their field, know how much time and effort it took them to become an expert and don’t expect others to know the same amount. Further, they are aware that their great knowledge about X is predicated on a great lack of knowledge about Y. You can’t be a leading authority on everything.

Both expats and people who work at MIT have a sense of how large the world is and how many multiples it contains.

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Cultural Understandings of Water and Food

Outline and Chapter Abstracts for ‘Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions’

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – being pleasant and helpful

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – explaining

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – knowing the world

As I am always fascinated by the cultural manifestations of a group, I was interested to see how MIT’s Sloan School of Business had (or had not) altered in the 19 years since I had worked there. On my third day back at MIT, there was a group lunch in the open space near the door to our unit. In the middle of seven people eating and talking, a student walked in and everyone became silent, instantly attuned to someone in need of help. Oh, I thought to myself, 19 years and the culture has not changed one whit.

For other people, the hallmark of MIT might be the academic brilliance, but during my previous 5 years working at MIT and what I see now, is that MIT has done an amazing job of hiring people with the same “helpfulness gene.” I think this is an aspect of a person’s personality that is instinctive irrespective of background, gender, age or culture of origin. It’s bred in the bone; you either have it or you don’t.

“Instinctive” is the key word as a lot of people don’t automatically respond to a person in need of assistance with, “What can I do?”

Some people live their lives like they are ordering coffee in a cafe: I want a large, half-caf, triple shot, half soy, half almond milk, extra hot, extra foam, sugar-free caramel syrup latte. And I want it now. Hurry Up. And those types of people sometimes have a hard time understanding MIT employees.

I watched a fascinating discussion in which a person interrupted a clearly busy MIT employee who was sitting at a table in an open space. The person pestered the employee with a series of silly questions for over 20 minutes. The MIT employee stayed patient, helpful and pleasant and as the person got up to leave, they asked, “How can I incentivize you to continue to sit here, instead of hiding in your office?” Meaning, they wanted the MIT employee to stay out in the public area where they could be easily bothered.

The MIT employee said, “I choose to sit out here, knowing people might need help.”

The person looked shocked. The employee was deliberately putting themselves in a situation in which they would be bombarded with questions? It made no sense. But somehow, for decades on end, MIT HR has managed to find and hire people with a similar mindset.

Recreating Culture – Lessons from Bakeries and Cafeterias

Adjusting to Oman: My Dangerous Taxi

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Reflections – Dhofari Conversations

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – explaining

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – knowing the world

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – being pleasant and helpful

MIT decided to partner with the company gapingvoid for a series of whimsical drawings with sayings that distill MIT Sloan School of Management’s cultural frameworks, one of which is “We hang out with the nicest of geniuses.”

That might seem a little self-serving, but I worked at MIT for 5 years (2 1/2 years at Sloan and 2 1/2 years in the Office of the Dean, School of Engineering) before I went to Oman. When I moved back to the States, I returned to Sloan.

The “genius” part is justified by the awards given to people who work at MIT; the “nicest” part is justified by the MIT expectation that the more important the position held, the kinder the demeanor. When I came back to Sloan in Sept. 2024, I had not worked in the States in 19 years. I had a lot of catching up to do and, during my first weeks, I often bothered my boss with basic questions and I always got a serene explanation, no “just look it up” or “ask X.” The person with the least spare time is the person most willing to walk me through the details I need to know.

But my stronger example comes from my previous job in the School of Engineering. I did stewardship which means explaining to donors what was done with their money, i.e., asking professors who were given funds for their labs to write (or have me write) a letter back to the donor.

When I started that job, I was a little nervous going into the office of world-rated, much-decorated, famous professors to ask them to write a letter in lay-man’s terms for their donors, but what I found is that every single academic was able to say what they were doing in a simple and straightforward way without condescension or impatience.

After I would tell them why I wanted a letter about their work, they would usually ask, “Do you have a background in…” whatever their field of engineering was. I would shake my head and say, “I was an English Lit major.” They would nod and start in on a cognizant explanation. Every letter they wrote included both gratitude for the gift to MIT and a clear description of how they money furthered important research.

The visual metaphor I have is someone standing lost on the ground floor of a building with a large atrium. There is a crowd of people up on the 10th floor balcony, trying to tell the lost person where to go. Some point; some yell, “Go to the East 6 cubits, then turn South for 18 cubits.” Some hold up their phone saying. “Here are the directions” and others yell, “It’s easy! What is your problem?” And then there is the person who walks to the elevator, goes down to the ground floor, walks up to the person and says, “Please follow me.”

MIT hires the people who go to the elevator.

Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Using the Arabic Language

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Dealing with Loss

One Year Away – Missing Oman