On Friday 13 November 2026, my colleague Sumin Myung and I will launch the Critical Data Studies Lab at Te Herenga WakaโVictoria University of Wellington, with a day of conversation about how data and data-driven technologies shape our social and material worlds. This free event will be in person at Te Herenga Waka’s Kelburn Campus and online via Zoom, and you can register here.
The Critical Data Studies Lab examines how and why data matters: how it is conceptualised, produced, categorised, circulated, applied, and contested, and how these processes reflect and (re)produce power, equity, and lived experience.
We use the term critical in two related senses. First, it signals a commitment to examining the assumptions, values, and power relations embedded in data practices and journeys (Leonelli 2016). The idea that data is not neutral is long-established in critical data studies (Kitchin, 2014; Neff et al., 2017), prompting us to ask how data practices shape and are shaped by shifting conditions of knowledge production, political organisation, and physical environments, and how they become implicated in the often uneven distribution of benefits and harms (Biruk 2018). Second, it draws attention to moments of transition and change. Like a critical threshold, data practices can mark junctures when social relations, material and digital infrastructures, institutional arrangements, and forms of knowledge are reconfigured. Such junctures can be moments of possibility as well as disruption, creating space to imagine and work toward emergent futures (Petryna 2022).
Our use of the term lab is inspired by the tradition of social science labs housed in universities worldwide: institutional spaces for research, collaboration, dialogue, and imagination (CLEAR 2021; McDonald, 2026). Through seminar series, reading groups, and workshops, the CDS Lab will foster interdisciplinary conversations about data. The following is a list of potential (and by no means exhaustive) topics:
Indigenous data sovereignty and governance
Data-driven technologies and AI
Surveillance, privacy, and accountability
The data-driven university
Data feminisms, queer data studies, and critical disability studies approaches to data
Data, environments, and material worlds
Data justice, ethics, and governance
Data colonialism and extractive economies
Big Data alternatives and sustainable data practices
The CDS Lab Launch on 13 November features a keynote presentation from Dr Donna Cormack (Associate Professor at Te Kupenga Hauora Mฤori, University of Auckland, and Data Technician at Te Kฤhui Raraunga) and a roundtable discussion on what critical data studies might look like at Te Herenga Waka, followed by lunch and a master class for postgraduate students. Starting in February 2027, we will run a monthly Critical Data Studies seminar series and a reading group that meets every two months, to support ongoing conversations and create spaces for interdisciplinary collaboration and scholarship.
References
Biruk, Crystal. 2018. Cooking Data: Culture and Politics in an African Research World. Duke University Press.
CLEAR. 2021. CLEAR Lab Book: A living manual of our values, guidelines, and protocols, V.03. Civic Laboratory for Environmental Action Research, Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador.
Kitchin, Rob. 2014. The Data Revolution: Big Data, Open Data, Data Infrastructures & Their Consequences. SAGE Publications Ltd.
Leonelli, Sabina. 2016. Data-Centric Biology: A Philosophical Study. The University of Chicago Press.
McDonald, Fiona P. 2026. โCritical Research Spaces as Scholarship: An Ethnography Lab as an Apparatus for the Experimental, the Imaginary, and the Relational.โ American Anthropologist 128 (3): 469โ479.
Neff, Gina, Anissa Tanweer, Brittnay Fiore-Gartland, and Laura Osburn. 2017. โCritique and Contribute: A Practice-Based Framework for Improving Critical Data Studies and Data Science.โ Big Data, 5(2), 85โ97.
Petryna, Adriana. 2022. Horizon Work: At the Edges of Knowledge in an Age of Runaway Climate Change. Princeton University Press.
I am delighted to share this invaluable resource from my friend and colleague, Dr. April K Henderson. April has written the most thoughtful and practical advice I’ve seen on navigating the PhD examination process, which involves a viva/oral defence here in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her advice is grounded in years of supervisory experience in Pacific Studies at Te Herenga WakaโVictoria University of Wellington, and exemplifies her generous mentorship. If you or someone you know is approaching a thesis examination in Aotearoa New Zealand, this is essential reading.
Approaching examinersโ reports
Your first and lasting response to examinersโ reportsโeven the one with the toughest-to-take criticismโshould be gratitude for the detailed engagement with your work they provide. Letโs face it: reading a thesis, even a beautifully written one, is a bit of a slog, but these three people read yours, re-read it, thought deeply about, formulated opinions and crafted several (or five, or sometimes even eight) pages of detailed discussion and advice. No one else, apart from your supervisors, will read your work this closely.
Examiners are people, and just like other people we know (friends, relatives) some examiners are better at wording their critiques in a generous and supportive way, while others may be more blunt. Some critiques you may easily see the truth of, others you may reject. But no matter how they sound, examinersโ comments are always (at least in my experience) intended well and meant to improve your thesis. Therefore, the first note you should sound in the oral exam is gratitude that these esteemed, busy people have given so much time and attention to your work.
In your oral exam, you will need to be prepared to address critiques in your reports. Hereโs some strategies for preparing to do that.
So you have your examinersโ reportsโwhat to do now?ย
I advise students to work your way methodically through all the reports, developing a list of every critique/request made and who made it. More specifically, I suggest developing a spreadsheet withย three columns.
Inย the left column of the spreadsheet, enter each critique/request in a newย row.
In theย middle column, write a statement about whether the critiqueย wasย echoed or contradicted in the other two reports. Why this middle column is important:
It will help identify the key areas of agreement across all three reports, and these will most likely feed into predictable questions in the oral exam and possibly revisions you will be asked to make;
It will help you toย have perspective on the reports when takenย as a whole. Otherwise, our natural human negativity bias means that we will obsess about the most critical bits in the reports, losing sight of the big pictureโincluding that some examiners may have loved the exact same aspect of the thesis that another hated. So Professor X thought you did a really poor job elaborating [key concept] in your thesis. But Professor Y and Dr Z thought you did a great job and said so! This middle column can help your fragile scholarly ego maintain perspective. It also can suggest positive strategies for approaching the stinging bits of critique in the oral exam: if examinersโ responses were contradictory on a particular point, it can be useful to gently (and non-defensively!) work a reference to the positive commendations of other examiners into your considered response to the critique (a suggestion for doing this below). Which brings me to the final columnโฆ
In the right column, put your carefully considered response to the critique and what (if anything) you are willing to do to address it, including practical changes you might make to the final thesis. Also note for yourself if/how you might (implicitly or more directly) work a reference to the critique in your opening fifteen minute presentation. (More about how you will use and draw on this column is at the end of โThe Oral Examโ section).
Here is an example of a table of examinersโ comments and student responses. (Note: this is an anonymised, generalised composite, not a particular studentโs exact spreadsheet).
CRITIQUE
CONVERGENCE/DIVERGENCE in REPORTS?
MY RESPONSE
1.ย One examiner said thesis invokes divergentย conceptions of [key concept] from multiple theorists and “the way in which [key concept] is being used as expounded in Chapter 2 and especially in later descriptions and analysisย could have been clearer” (Professor X ย p2)
Critique not reflected in Professor Yโs or Dr Zโs reports, who write approvingly of thesis’s useย of [key concept]: “[insert theirย flattering, approving statements here]”.
Two examiners were very satisfied with my treatment of [key concept]. I can offer an implicit response to Professor Xโs critique in my opening 15-minute presentation in the oral exam; As part of narrating the thesisโs key original contributions, I can say something like: โI agree with examiners that the concept of [key concept] is critical to the thesis. It underpinned my analysis of x and y and allowed me to see z. Given its importance, I was gratified by Professor Yโs and Dr Zโs commendations of how the thesis introduces and uses the concept.โ ย If Professor X raises a specific question later in the exam, I am prepared to restate/elaborate clearly on the thesisโs use of [key concept], making reference to particular passages in the thesis that I feel address Professor Xโs questions. Ways to do this non-defensively: open the response by agreeing with X that clarity is important. After pointing to specific passages that I hope address Xโs critique, close by welcoming suggestions X may have for bringing further clarity.
2. “Textual descriptions of x and y are rather hard going” (Professor X ย p2)
Critique not reflected in Professor Yโs or Dr Zโs reports. Both of these other examinersย are trained in [specifically relevant field] and write of the thesis’sย textual descriptions in very positive terms: “[insert theirย flattering, approving statements here]”.
Professor Xโs critique seems a bit pointed hereโitโs very specific and not shared by the other examiners who have more expertise in [relevant field]. I donโt think I need to pick up on it in my opening presentation. ย If it comes up later in the exam, I could discuss why I chose to describe x and y in the level of detail I did, the relationship of these descriptions to my analysis, and end by acknowledging with gratitude Professor Yโs and Dr Zโs commendations of my descriptions in their reports.
3. โThe Conclusion [was short]. I craved more. What I expected here was a greater connection between the research questions posed at the start, the subtle exposition of complex theories, the graphic depictions of [thesis content], the lived realities of [thesis participants] than is presented in these short, final paragraphs. This was a profound disappointment and I can only presume that the author ran out of time or energy. This deficiency might be redressed in the final version.โ ย (Professor X ย p7)
While phrased more generously, the other examiners agreed: ย โThe thesis concludes with a short chapter that briefly summarises [xxx], reiterates the central argument, and sketches some preliminary ideas for future research.โ (Dr Z p4) ย โ[The student] might well want, in any future revision, to expand and amplify the thoughts indexed in their concluding chapter.โ (Professor Y)
This critique was shared across all reports and is likely to come up in oral exam. I agree with examiners that my Conclusion was too short. It was not a matter of running out of time or energy, thoughโjust running out of word limit.
I think thereโs a way to acknowledge this shortcoming of the thesis towards the end of my opening 15-minute presentation, and to do it in a way that explains this shortcoming as an unfortunate by-product of what examiners appreciated as the strengths of the thesis: all of the rich detail in the substantive chapters meant that the thesis was at the maximum word limit. ย In terms of practical steps to address what we all agree was a shortcoming in the thesis: prior to the oral, I will gain clarity from FGR on whether the revised, final (post-exam) thesis can exceed the 100,00 word limit โ if so, I will readily offer to expand the Conclusion. If not, I will explain the word constraints to examiners and seek their advice on parts of the thesis they think could be sacrificed to make space for an expanded Conclusion.
Once you’ve got a draft of this spreadsheet, circulate it to your supervisors in advance of your preparing-for-the-oral-exam meeting. When you meet, supervisors can help you go through the list and provide additional guidance on ways to approach responses to critiques in the oral.
Note that this table is a tool for you to help make sense of the examinersโ reports and prepare in the lead up to the oral exam. More about how to use this table is at the end of the next section.
The oral exam
Your opening 15-minute presentation
At the start of the oral exam, after the chair has welcomed everyone and discussed the general process, you will be invited to make your opening remarks (at our university, these are usually limited to fifteen minutes). In your opening remarks, what you want to do is: 1) thank the examiners for their careful consideration, 2) tell them the story of your thesis (how it came to be what it is, what it accomplishes, and why it matters), and then 3) end by explicitly welcoming the ensuing discussion and questions as a valuable opportunity to improve your work.
Discussing each of these, in turn:
First, re-read the opening lines of โApproaching examinersโ reportsโฆโ, above. Gratitude should be the opening note you sound in the oral exam. You will never again in your life have this many people focused solely on you and your work (even if you write a book, youโll just get peer review reportsโnot the additional benefit of getting to talk to those people for 2โ3 hours about your work in person and explain why you wrote what you wrote). Even if you disagree with some of their comments/critiques; even if you think one or two of them donโt โgetโ your work, express gratitude for their careful consideration of your workโthey really do intend well (in my experience).
Second, I usually advise students to think of this opening presentation as a chance to tell the story of your thesis. Of course you will want to ensure clear statements about the thesisโs key arguments and original contributions to knowledge, and especially why it matters, but this is also a chance to contextualise the thesis. This is a chance to narrate why and how the work theyโve all read came to be what it is. Itโs quite common for examiners to simply be curious about some things that may not be explained in the thesis: theyโll have questions about certain decisions you made to zig instead of zag, why you went here and not there, or how you ended up in this research area in the first place.
Of course, there are endlessly different ways to tell a story, including the story of your thesis. Take your cue for what parts to emphasise by whatโs in the reports. For example:
If a common question or critique emerged across the examinersโ reports about an aspect of the thesis (for instance something in the research design: where you went, who you talked to, how you talked to them, what theoretical concept was centred, what archives you consulted; or some key consideration that they thought was missing; or even why the thesis was structured like it was), and you can work an explanation of this into โthe story of your thesis,โ do it! Iโve seen examinersโ concerns about something melt away when they hear the backstory of why the student chose to do it like they did. Just hearing that the decisions were carefully considered and that the student had good reasoning behind them can sometimes appease examiners, such that things they raised as big concerns in their reports are no longer concerns (or even mentioned) in the recommendations for final revisions.
Sometimes, if itโs not clear in the thesis, examiners will want to know more about you and how you came to do this research (at least in my field of Pacific Studies, peopleโs personal stakes in the work usually matter). I recall two of my past PhD students who both produced theoretically nuanced, ethnographically rich, and immaculately written theses, but both chose, for various reasons, to give minimal details about themselves in their theses. In both cases, multiple examiners came back asking them for more discussion of their relationship to the research topic. Partially this was about ethically disclosing their positionality, but partially it was also curiosity: how did someone who appears, on the surface, to be so different from this research context come to be studying this specific thing? So when one of these students crafted his opening presentation, he devoted some time to telling his coming-to-the-thesis backstory (aspects of which Iโd never even heard, as his supervisor) and examiners seemed delighted to hear it: it was like, Ahhh, I get it now! And in the end, they didnโt even ask him to add any of that extra biographical detail into the final thesisโthey were just curious and wanted to know.
In contrast to #2 just above, many of my other supervisees include quite a lot about their personal biography and relationship to the research in their theses (Iโve had at least two that incorporate auto-ethnography as a specific method). In these cases, examiners probably arenโt going to ask for more about you and your relationship to the project, but they will be curious about other aspects of how the thesis came to be what it is. Look for questions in the reports that you might be able to address (in a positive, implicit, way) in your opening narration of why and how the thesis came to be what it is.
The important thing in this opening 15-minute presentation is to keep the focus on what you did do in the thesis. The most effective opening presentations tell that story of what the thesis did accomplish, and why and how it came to be in the form it is, in a way that implicitly answers some of the examinersโ questions. Narrating the decisions you made, and why, will implicitly explain why you chose not to research or write the thesis in another way. Where relevant, feel free to lightly work in explicit acknowledgement of things the examiners said they liked into this story (c.f. Row 1 Column 3 of the spreadsheet above, where it says โGiven its importance, I was gratified by Professor Yโs and Dr Zโs commendations of how the thesis introduces and uses the concept.โ)
You can weave more explicit mentions of examinersโ critiques into your opening presentation as well, but keep the main thrust of your presentation to the positive work you did, and see if thereโs ways to frame (what examinersโ identified as) shortcomings or gaps in the thesis as by-products of some of its strengths, or the result of decisions that were well-considered and necessary. For instance, see Row 3 Column 3 in the example spreadsheet table above: in that example, all of the examiners (and the student) agreed that the thesis conclusion was too short. The studentโs opening presentation foregrounded the rich, original contributions made in the thesisโs substantive chapters and thanked examiners for their commendations of those chapters (e.g. leading with the positive story of what the thesis did do well), and then acknowledged that the rich substantive chapters strained the word limit and regrettably left little space for a Conclusion.
I strongly advise rehearsing your opening presentation with supervisors to get both substance and tone right. What you donโt want to do in this 15 minutes is foreground examinersโ critiques first and then respond to them point-by-point with an explanation. Itโs common for students to think thatโs what they should do in their oral exam or oral defence presentation, but donโt do that: it sounds defensive and sets a combative tone for the oral exam. (So donโt go down your spreadsheet point-by-point! That spreadsheet was to help you process the reports and plan effective responses).
Finally, be sure to end your presentation by explicitly welcoming the ensuing discussion and questions as a valuable opportunity to improve your work. This last bit is key: by inviting their critiques, you actually retain more power in this situation. Examiners will visibly relax and feel more comfortable about raising questions, and the tone is more likely to feel like an engaged scholarly conversation rather than an inquisition. Thatโs what you want. ๐
Some final reflection on examiners
You may be wondering, how the heck did these people come to sit in the seat of judgement on my work?
Examiners are ultimately nominated by supervisors. Your supervisors usually consult each other and will have varying degrees of responsibility for the final examiners. I canโt speak for all supervisors, but everyone Iโve ever co-supervised with has sought the same qualities in examiners: people with some expertise relevant to the thesis who will be rigourous and kind. We want them to hold students to a high standard and help ensure that the studentโs final published thesis can withstand scholarly scrutiny anywhere, but we also hope that their criticisms will be voiced in a generous and supportive way. In Pacific Studies weโve been fortunate to have many rigourous and kind examiners over the years, but occasionally weโll see an examination report that surprises us.
Pacific Studies is a pretty small field (big ocean, tiny field), so we often know the โPacific Studiesโ examiners personally and have expectations of what kind of examiner they will be. However, sometimes a colleague we think we know well surprises us when they put their โexaminer hatโ on. At other times, the studentโs topic or the unavailability of people we initially ask necessitates that we get an examiner who supervisors donโt know personally and/or donโt have a sense of as an examinerโin these cases we always hold our breath a bit and hope that they turn out to be great, rigourous, kind examiners.
So, if the ideal type of examiner (and, I assure you, the vast majority of past examiners of PASI theses are this way) is rigourous, engaged deeply with the thesis, and able to relay comments and critique in a kind and generous (but firm) mannerโฆwhat are the other types? Hereโs some characters Iโve encountered:
The off-in-some-other-field examiner: this is the โone of these things is not like the othersโ examinerโtheir report bears little relationship to the other two, and in your (and your supervisorsโ) opinion bears little relationship to your work. Parts of their report might seem downright wacky, like huh? What theโฆ?
If this person is the overseas examiner, YAY! This is the best case scenario for an oddball examiner because the overseas examiner does not attend the exam and the examiners who are there (internal and NZ examiner) have discretion over how they incorporate the overseas examinersโ questions and whether to include any of the overseas examinerโs requests into the final required revisions. If the overseas examinerโs report was really wacky, trust that everyone present at your exam (the internal and NZ examiners, the chair, your supervisors) are aware of it. They will have to be diplomatic and professional in their comments about it, but they know. The examiners who are present will still have to pose some of the overseas examinerโs questions (they are required to), so do your best to remain poised and professional also as you generously and diplomatically address the irrelevance of the overseas examinerโs questions to the work you did.
If this person is the internal examiner, take a deep breath and know that you will get through this. The internal examiner wields a greater amount of power over the very last stage of the thesis process because they are usually the person responsible for overseeing and approving the final (post-exam) revisions (your revised thesis will not go back out to the overseas and NZ examiner). Again, remain poised, professional, and diplomatic in the exam, and be prepared to do whatever is the minimum required to appease this person if their requests get included in your final required revisions. For instance, they might want you to include a new section that the other examiners (and you, and your supervisors) think is totally unnecessary, but theyโve managed to get this included in the list of required revisions. Unfortunately, youโve just got to suck it up and do enough to satisfy them. Remember, the thesis is a means to an end goal (your PhD). If oddball examiner is gonna throw up this one last hurdle for you at the end of your marathon, take a deep breath and do what you need to do to get yourself over it.
If this person is the NZ examiner, be professional, poised, and diplomatic when responding to their comments in the exam. See what, if any, of their odd requests get included in the final required revisions. If some of them do get included, you will need to do something to show the internal examiner that you diligently attended to their requests, but you may not need to do as much as you would if the oddball requests were coming from the internal examiner themself.
The I-actually-think-this-thesis-is-really-good-but-Iโm-having-a-bad-day (or) I-actually-think-this-thesis-is-really-good-but-Iโm-just-too-tired-to-write-kindly examiner. This is the examiner that buries some stinging little comments in a report that otherwise mostly contains praise for the thesis (see Professor X in the example spreadsheet, above). Developing a spreadsheet (as advised above) will help put this examinerโs comments in perspective. Try your best to look past their little barbs: those ouchy bits may not be representative of examinersโ comments as a whole, and (funnily enough) they may not even accurately represent this particular examinerโs overall estimation of your thesis. Iโve encountered variations of this type of examiner several times: students dwell on the stinging critiques in the report and assume the examiner hates their thesis, and then are shocked when the same examiner sums up the thesis as excellent and is totally pleasant and encouraging in the actual exam. Sometimes people are tired, or annoyed about something when they write their reports, and things come out more harshly than they intend or realize. Or, due to time pressure, they had to send the first draft of their report rather than the draft they wouldโve sent if they had time to sleep on it, go back in, and soften their language.ย Focus on crafting well-considered responses to the useful and productive elements of examinersโ critiques, and try not to focus on the stinging or ungenerous ways the critiques may have been delivered.
The Your-thesis-makes-me-think-about-all-these-things-Iโm-interested-in-in-my own-work-that-Iโm-about-to-tell-you-about examiner. This type seems to be less interested in engaging your work on its own terms and discussing what your thesis actually did, and rather more interested in using your work as a jumping off point to talk about their own scholarly interests. Thereโs a couple variations of this type:
The easier-to-handle variation will talk a lot about their own research interests in their report, and want to talk more about them in the oral exam, but will not insist that you do a lot of revisions to make your final thesis more like their work. This type might be annoying (if you are actually wanting them to focus on your thesis for two hours), but they are ultimately benign because they arenโt going to put up additional hurdles at the end of your marathon. In some ways, this type of examinerโs response is a form of flattery: they are reading your work like they might read an exciting new book in their field, and itโs sparking off all these ideas for their own work that they are keen to talk about. They are treating this examination as a chance to have a stimulating scholarly conversation. Be diplomatic and pleasant, engage with them, gently guide the conversation back to your thesis in your responses if you need to, and trust the chair to do this as well.
The more difficult version of this is an examiner who then insists on revisions that will align your thesis more with the project they wouldโve done, or are doing, rather than respecting your thesis on its own terms. The extent of the challenge this examiner poses may depend on whether this person is the overseas, NZ, or internal examiner. See points 1, 2, and 3 from the off-in-some-other-field examiner above.
The This-is-my-first-examinerโs role-and-I-think-Iโm-supposed-to-treat-the-thesis-like-the-articles-we-savaged-in-my-graduate-seminars examiner. This person may think their job is to be a finely-honed machine for dispensing incisive, exhaustive critique that tears apart what someone else has built, rather than approaching examination as an opportunity to support and strengthen another personโs scholarship. Many competitive graduate programmes in the US, for instance, foster an ethos where tearing apart someone elseโs work is equated with competence. If an examiner has only recently emerged from that type of environment, and not yet had a lot of experience publishing their work and supervising postgrads (both of which tend to make you a bit more generous towards imperfect texts, I think), they may think that โdoing a good jobโ means being as relentlessly critical as possible. This is enough of a โthingโ that some supervisors deliberately avoid asking very junior academics to serve as examiners. But sometimes the niche subject matter of the thesis, combined with the unavailability of the one or two more senior scholars with relevant expertise, means that your supervisors do approach a first-time examiner and hope for the best. If you do receive a report that offers unrelenting critique of all the thesisโs faults without attentiveness also to its strengths, it may just be that the examiner mistakenly thinks this is what is expected of them. Your supervisors (and the middle column of the table strategy I suggest above) can help you to keep some perspective on this report.
Iโm sure there are other less-than-ideal types out there, but these are the ones Iโve encountered. But as I said before, by far the vast majority of examiners Iโve experienced are the kind we hope for: rigourous but kind, deeply engaged in the work of the thesis, and intent on helping you make the final published thesis as strong as it can be.
Best wishes for your preparation!
Dr. April K Henderson Pacific Studies Te Herenga WakaโVictoria University of Wellington
Recently I have been thinking about how I learnt to transition from fieldwork to writing. Like many graduate students, mid-way through my thesis research I found myself with a stack of notebooks and detailed fieldnotes, interview transcripts, and hundreds of photos (among other things), but I wasn’t sure how to transform this material into ethnographic writing. The shift from gathering data to crafting compelling stories requires a different set of skills that aren’t always explicitly taught in methods courses.
Over the years, as I have supervised graduate students and taught courses on ethnographic methods, I have noticed others struggling with this fieldwork-to-writing transition. In this post I share five activities I have developed to help with that transition. The activities are modelled after the best writing course I have ever done (“Unstuck: The Art of Productivity” with Kel Weinhold from The Professor Is In) and draw on prompts in Kirin Narayan’s excellent book Alive in the Writing: Crafting Ethnography in the Company of Chekhov(2012) as well as my lecture notes from courses I have taught (including ANTH 312 Creative Ethnographic Practices).
These activities form an ethnographic writing intensive designed to strengthen your ethnographic writing practice. They address common challenges I see students facing: how to separate your thoughts from your writing; how to structure a piece of work; how to start with participant perspectives, how to write yourself into the narrative, how to write an ethnographic story.
Activity One: Investigate your thoughts with The Professor Is In
I recommend starting here, with a blog post by writing coach Kel Weinhold from The Professor Is In, because I have found it helpful in dealing with negative thoughts (hello imposter syndrome, my old friend!) in my own writing. This approach has helped me separate my thoughts from my writing process.
The blog post suggests that writers sometimes have thoughts that feel completely true but actually interfere with making progress. As Kel writes, โThe issue is not whether or not we have unhelpful thoughts; the issue is what we do with thoughtsโ (Weinhold, 2022)
See if any of the examples in the post resonate with your own writing experiences
If so, work through the investigative process in Kelโs blog post
Reflective question:
What, if anything, did you find useful in this approach that you might carry forward in your own writing practice?
Activity Two: Reverse outline a model piece of writing
I first learnt about reverse outlines through “Unstuck” and since then have recommended doing them to just about all of my graduate students.
For this activity, you are going to create a reverse outline of a model of the kind of writing you are currently working on (e.g. a MA thesis chapter, a journal article). This is a technique I regularly use myself. Usually people create reverse outlines of their own work, but I like to do it with examples of other peoplesโ work so I can get a feel for how the piece of writing is structured and what each paragraph does for their argument and overall flow of the writing.
Choose a model piece of writing to work with (e.g. a chapter from a thesis your supervisor recommends, or an article from the journal you want to write for)
Sit down and read the piece from start to finish. Just read it; donโt take notes or do any highlighting
Read the piece again with a pen. Number each paragraph as you re-read
On a fresh piece of paper, write down the number of each paragraph and a sentence or phrase that describes what the author is accomplishing in that paragraph (e.g. this paragraph introduces and defines key concepts; explains the purpose of the chapter; lists the central research questions; situates the chapter in relation to other literature; etc)
Optional: add a star next to the paragraph numbers that you think are doing especially important work, or that you particularly like
Then, look at a draft you are currently working on to see where you might use elements of the model piece in your own work (e.g. โI need to have a paragraph that explains how this chapter contributes to my overall thesis argumentโ)
Reflective question:
What was useful about this activity? Might you use the reverse outline process on your own writing?
Activity Three: Starting on the ground
โThe term โethnographyโ has its roots in the Greek words ethnos (folk, the people) and grapho (to write). Ethnography is to write about people, society, and/or culture, but it is much more than writing. It is also a method and a theory. As a method, ethnography is an embodied, empirical, and experiential field-based way of knowing centered around participant observation. Ethnographic research requires participation, not just observation. It is to participate in rather than just observe the daily life, logics, rhythms, and contradictions of a cultural group or society. As such, it requires discipline and commitment beyond what is visible to someone not trained in ethnographic methods. As a theory, ethnography is to start on the ground, with the concepts that ground peopleโs lives, worldviews, actions, and words in particular ways to that community.โ
This activity takes its cue from the first lecture I give in my Creative Ethnographic Practices class. In it, I discuss Carole McGranahanโs point that theory, in ethnography, means to start โon the groundโ, with what your participants have to say. Rather than starting with theories developed by others, ethnographic writing tends to ask: whatโs going on here? What are my participants telling me about how their world works?
Tasks:
Choose a paragraph from a draft you are working on
What does the paragraph start with? If it starts with someone elseโs theory, can you see a way to rewrite it so your participantโs words and explanations guide your analysis?
Note that not every single paragraph needs to do this; the activity prompts you to show how you are building understanding inductively, starting โon the groundโ with what your participants said
Reflective question:
What did you notice about the difference between starting with other peopleโs theories versus starting with participant explanations? How might this approach change the way you build arguments in your writing?
Activity Four: Writing yourself into the text
This activity is drawn from two sources. The first is a lecture I give on autoethnography (a methodology many of our students are drawn to), where I discuss Leon Andersonโs argument that analytic autoethnography requires โnarrative visibility of the researcherโs selfโ (2006, 378).[1] Autoethnographic writing requires you to be visible as a researcher while being in conversation with your participants. Ethnographic writing, too, often includes the presence of the researcher to show how their knowledge was produced. Since dialogue can be a generative way of illustrating key insights from your research while showing the relational nature of knowledge-production, the second source I have drawn on is Kirin Narayanโs chapter โVoiceโ from Alive in the Writing. This chapter has an excellent discussion of how to โbuild texts from conversationsโ (page 69 Kindle edition), and in my course on Creative Ethnographic Methods I ended each lecture with in-class writing prompts (like the ones below) based on Narayanโs work.
Writing activity 1: Locate a quote from one of your participants on the issue youโre writing about and experiment with working just a line or two into an introduction (adapted from the prompt on page 73)
Writing activity 2: Write an extended conversation in which one of your participants explains a concept to you. Include your questions in the dialogue (adapted from the prompt on page 75)
Writing activity 3: Revisit one of your interview transcriptions, using different colour pens to highlight (a) the main questions you asked, (b) your subsidiary questions, and (c) your participantโs answers (adapted from the prompt on page 77)
Writing activity 4: Draw on the interview transcript you looked at for the previous activity to create a 2-page dialogue between you and a participant that reveals information or insights central to your project. Pay attention to the textures, cadences, and intonations of voices, including your own (adapted from the prompt on page 92)
Reflective question:
After experimenting with these different ways of writing yourself in to your work via dialogue, what did you notice about how the presence of your questions and responses changes the way insights emerge in your writing? How might dialogue work differently than summary or analysis for revealing what you learned in interviews?
Activity Five: Ethnographic storytelling
โFocusing on stories that have been co-created enables me to work on the ethnographic narrative and its process of coming into life through storytelling. In starting with the creation of ethnographic stories and story lines I am following an argument by Soyini D. Madison; she has criticised the tendency to avoid transparency in oneสผs own ethnographic storytelling techniques by hiding behind the writing of others and showing off (with the theory of others) in order to give more weight to oneสผs own ethnography while hiding possible flaws. She observes that rather than taking guidance from and trusting the stories, instead โthe researcher becomes so enamored with [โฆ] impressing colleagues that honoring the narrative becomes less important than acrobatics of abstraction and theoretical word playโ (Madison 2014, 394)โ.
Bรถnisch-Brednich, Brigitte. 2018. โWriting the Ethnographic Story: Constructing Narrative Out of Narratives.โ Fabula 59 (1-2): 8โ26. Page 12.
This activity is based on a lecture I give on ethnographic storytelling. I begin that lecture by talking about a blog post Carole McGranahan wrote in 2015, where she writes: โWhat is defective is how we miss the power of stories and storytellers even as well tell them. We tell stories to get to the point, to make our points. We miss that the stories are the pointโ (my emphasis added). McGranahan puts forward an argument similar to the one that Madison makes in the quote from Bรถnisch-Brednichโs article cited above (which I also discuss in that lecture): that we use our participantโs voices to make our own theoretical arguments (often drawing on the theory of others) rather than letting their stories carry the weight of ethnographic insight.
Tasks:
Choose a story that one of your participants shared with you that you found especially memorable (perhaps one you are working with in a current piece of writing). You will work with this story in three ways
Writing activity 1: write the story as if you are reporting it for a newspaper, using the journalistic who-what-when-where-why-how questions and describing the basic sequence of events
Writing activity 2: write the story as your participant might (see the ethnographic vignette that Bรถnisch-Brednich shares on pages 12-13 of her article for an example)
Writing activity 3: Following Bรถnisch-Brednichโs article or McGranahanโs blog post, write the story for your draft, discussing what it shows about broader patterns in your research and connecting it with relevant theory. This is how it becomes ethnographic storytelling
Reflective question:
After writing the same story three different ways, what did you notice about how each approach revealed different aspects of the experience? How did writing activity 3 differ from simply adding analysis to writing activity 1?
I designed these activities with individual work in mind, but they might also be useful starting points for a ‘shut up and write‘ session with peers. If you try one or more of them, please let me know your thoughts in the comments – I would love to hear from you!
As I wrote in a previous blog post, in this class I guide students through the process of crafting their own independent ethnographic research projects. Along the way, we discuss how to generate, analyse, and present our ethnographic findings in a variety of creative methods and genres, and Week 9 is about graphic ethnography. In that week’s class I adapted some of the exercises from Barry’s book and invited the class to bring some pens, pencils, and paper to class so we could draw together to think about their data and their final research projects. I am not someone who draws (although I will happily join my kids to do some colouring with them) and was apprehensive about how it would go. To my delight, students embraced the activity and many commented on how useful it was in their weekly reflective research journals, prompting me to share the activity here.
โWhen it comes to drawing as a serious activity โ as an ethnographic method, for instance โ many feel they lack the expertise to perform such a task. In classroom settings, the announcement of a drawing exercise typically provokes a reaction ranging from the defensive โBut I canโt draw!โ to the confessional โI donโt know how to draw!โ Beginning from this place of not knowing, unskilled and uncertain, says less about our innate abilities than it does about the pervasive undervaluing of drawing in our educational systems. But we should not be deterred; as Betty Edwards famously proclaimed, โI have discovered that any person of sound mind can learn to draw; the probability is the same as for learning to readโ (2012, 43). While drawing is a favourite pastime for young children, who exhibit a โbeguiling freedom and charmโ in their depictions, around the age of ten โchildren confront an artistic crisisโ as they become obsessed with producing realistic drawing (Edwards 2012, 66, 64). Without training to cultivate these skills, they become discouraged and possibly ashamed.โย
– Westmoreland 2021, 61
After discussing Westmoreland’s article for a short time, I introduced Lynda Barry’s work and we began the activity I adapted from her book (pages 76-81 and 124).
Step 1. Draw a spiral
You will need: something to draw on, and something to draw with.
Barry, Linda. 2014. Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor. Canada: Drawn & Quarterly. Page 76.
Make a two-page spread (e.g. fold an A4 piece of paper together, or find two clean pages in a drawing book)
Write todayโs date at the top of the left page
Number the right side from one to ten
Begin on the left page and make a dot in the middle
Spiral a line around the dot
Keep going, making your spiral bigger and trying to keep the lines as close together as possible without letting them touch
As you make your spiral, think about a memorable moment you had doing fieldwork for your research project (5 mins)
Step 2. Make a list
Turn to the numbered list you made on the right page
Write down 10 of the memories that come to mind when you think about your memorable fieldwork moment (2 mins)
Read over your list and choose a memory that stands out to you
Circle that memory
Turn to a clean page and write the memory you circled at the top, as if it were the title of a story
Draw a big โXโ across the page
Step 3. ‘X’ page
Start by picturing yourself in the memory
Pretend weโre on the phone. You can see the image but I canโt. Iโm going to ask you some questions that will help me โseeโ it too
Write or draw your answers anywhere on the โXโ page
You will have 20 seconds to write or draw your answer before I ask the next question
No detail is too small or unimportant
Barry, Linda. 2014. Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor. Canada: Drawn & Quarterly. Page 79.
The questions:
Where are you?
What time is it?
How did you get there?
What’s the temperature like?
What can you smell?
What can you see?
What can you hear?
What are you doing?
Is anyone with you?
Why are you there?
How do you feel?
What happened at the start?
Who did you interact with?
How did you leave?
Step 4. Craft an ethnographic story
Turn to a clean page to write this up into a story
Write a sentence about each question you responded to
Draw on all of your senses and use vivid detailsย
Freewrite without stopping for 5 minutes
Use first person (e.g. โIโ)
Use present tense (e.g. โI can hear โฆโ)
Step 5. Make a 4-panel comic
Take a clean piece of paper and fold it into four quarters
Draw a border around each panel
In one of the panels, draw an image related to the story you just crafted
In the three other panels, draw that image three other times, making any kind of action you like
Barry, Linda. 2014. Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor. Canada: Drawn & Quarterly. Page 124.
This activity took us an hour. Barry’s book is full of creative prompts so if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend checking it out!
Last week Jogai Bhatt from RNZ approached me to do an interview about Generation X for a mini-series they are airing in the lead up to Generation X: 50 Artworks from the Chartwell Collection, a City Gallery Wellington exhibition shown at Te Papa from 27 July-24 October 2024. I’m not a Generation X researcher, but as a Gen Xer I felt qualified to answer a few questions and as an anthropologist I know how to get up to speed on a topic in a short space of time. I was also preparing a lecture for the Creative Ethnographic Practices class I teach at Te Herenga Waka-Victoria University of Wellington and decided to use the intensive research sprint I did in preparation for the interview as the basis for a session on how to develop a research topic.
When RNZ contacted me I was planning the second lecture for our class, which would include a discussion of the goal of ethnographic research as well as how anthropologists construct “the field,” research ethics (this is something we discuss in every class; I have approval from my university’s Human Ethics Committee for students to undertake independent research projects within specific parameters), and advice for students about how to think about their own potential fieldsites and research topics. I knew some students would appreciate some help in choosing a research topic and I thought “generations” would be a good prompt for them to think with. (Plus I’d done a whole lot of cramming about Generation X and was looking for opportunities to infodump.) So, I recreated my research steps for the lecture and talked the students through how they could develop an anthropological research question about Generation X.
Brainstorming Gen X
The first thing I did was crowdsource ideas from my Cultural Anthropology and Sociology colleagues at Te Herenga Waka. I work with Baby Boomers, Gen Xers, and Geriatric Millennials (although I’m told they prefer the term “Elder Millennial”, which comedian Iliza Shlesinger used as the title for her 2018 Netflix comedy special), and we often talk about generational differences in our lunchtime conversations. For example, some of us are parents to Gen Z and Gen Alpha kids, and we have been discussing how slang and memes (think “Skibidi Toiletโ) travel and gain popularity. I began a targeted conversation with them about Generation X and the RNZ interview on Wednesday last week. We are still (irreverently) debating its boundaries and characteristics, which suggests that it is compelling and multifaceted area of inquiry.
Next, I asked Jogai to send me the list of interview questions so I could decide how much time I would dedicate to the interview, which was to take place the next day. Seeing the interview questions helped me narrow the scope of my research, select key terms to use in my search of our library’s catalogue, GoogleScholar, and anthropology databases, and allocate a set number of hours to searching, reading/watching/listening to what I found, synthesising information, and preparing responses to the questions. Knowing that this interview would be recorded for a radio station, I also considered how I could communicate my responses in sound bite form.
In my lecture I explained how students could follow a similar process and emphasised how time should be one of the primary resources they take into account when planning their own projects. In this 12-week course they need to develop a proposal, collect data using selected ethnographic methods, analyse that data, connect their findings to scholarly literature, and communicate their research in a final project. I also suggested that they think about what kind of final project they would like to craft, as this would inform the methods they chose. A series of informative Instagram posts or a ‘zine might call for different methods to a podcast, for example. After this I asked them to do the following activity:
Asking an anthropological research question
Students have to submit a research proposal for me to approve before they begin their research, where they are asked to state the anthropological research question they will explore. In the lecture I discussed what makes a question anthropological and shared the following tips:
Do a GoogleScholar search on the topic you are interested in, using โanthropologyโ and โethnographyโ as part of your search terms. What do other anthropologists ask about your topic? What do their questions look like? What methods do they use to answer them?
Read a few anthropological publications on your topic (e.g. things written or made by anthropologists and published in anthropological journals or on anthropology websites) and make a list of key words that frequently appear, or draw a concept map. See if you can develop questions by using those key words.
Using those same anthropological publications, do some bibliographic mining to see what resources the authors cite and who some influential scholars might be. Bibliographies are often a great place to find further resources on a topic (thanks Eli for the reminder!), and you can also do a forward citation search to see what other publications have cited the one you are looking at. George Mason University’s Library has a good resource on citation mining: https://library.gmu.edu/tutorials/citationmining
Start with โhowโ questions and keep them open-ended.
I shared RNZ’s list of questions and talked about how I turned them into anthropological questions as I read work on generational studies, aging and life course studies, and technology by anthropologists, sociologists, and other social scientists. That looked like this:
RNZ interview questions
Who fits into Generation X?
What are the other Generations?
Where did these labels come from? Who invented these cohorts?
What are the tropes attached to Gen X?
Do these cohorts exist outside Western culture?
What are the key events that have shaped Gen X?
What do Gen Xs get nostalgic about?
Anthropological questions I developed
How do we talk about social change and cultural differences?ย
What do generational labels do? How do we use them?
What are the limits to generational labels?
How do generational labels help people make sense of the world?
After that we talked about what kind of methods we might use to explore Gen X as an ethnographic research topic, and I gave a short infodump about Gen X based on what was essentially a preliminary literature review. We were particularly interested in discussing Jogai’s excellent question of whether these cohorts exist outside of Western culture, and how generational labels help people make sense of the world. Hopefully some of the class will take up the idea of “generations” in their research projects.
El Sistema is a Venezuelan music and social development initiative that began in 1975 and is today one of the worldโs largest and most famous orchestral music education programmes. Sistema-inspired programmes operate in over 60 countries worldwide, including Aotearoa New Zealand, providing musical and social opportunities to underprivileged children with the aim of transforming their lives, their familiesโ lives, and their wider communities (Booth & Turnstall 2014, 2016; Sistema Global: Friends of El Sistema Worldwide 2015).
In the last decade, scholars have paid increasing attention to how Sistema-inspired programmes operate in different cultural contexts, reporting positive outcomes in musical and educationalย attainment, development of childrenโs personal and social skills (including discipline, positive attitudes towards school, and raised aspirations) and family engagement (Creech et al 2016; Osborne et al 2015; Trinick & McNaughton 2013). Fewer studies have focused on the wider social development aims of Sistema-inspired programmes, however, such as community wellbeing and socioeconomic impacts (Allan 2010; Burns & Bewick 2015; Uy 2012), and a growing number of researchers are critiquing orchestral music education programmes for promoting middle-class Western ideologies and for unintentionally reproducing rather than challenging structural inequalities (e.g., Baker 2014; Bull 2016). This is where my project comes in.ย I want to look beyond educational achievement to learn more about the social effects that Arohanui Strings, Virtuoso Strings, and Porirua Soundscapes have on the young people who participate in music classes, as well as their families and their wider communities. My aim is to understand how these groups transform young peopleโs lives through music.
Photo: Lorena Gibson
I am using a range of ethnographic methods in this project, including interviews, participant-observation (attending rehearsals, concerts, holiday programmes, and other events), photography, and participatory video. This involves inviting some of the young people involved in these organisations to use video cameras to document their experiences, and collaborate with me on making a short ethnographic film – for example, by working with me to decide what should be in the film, shooting footage for it, and advising me during the editing process.
As well as making an ethnographic film showing how young peopleย experience the relationship between music and social change, I will produce reports for Arohanui Strings, Virtuoso Strings, and Porirua Soundscapes. I will write academic journal articles and book chapters, and give a public talk at the end of the project (early 2020), and will upload published material here to this blog.
This research has been approved by the Victoria University of Wellington Human Ethics Committee, application reference 24293. If you have any questions about it, or are interested in becoming involved, please contact me.
References
Allan, J. 2010. Arts and the inclusive imagination: Socially engaged arts practices and Sistema Scotland. Journal of Social Inclusion, 1(2): 111-122.
Baker, G. 2014. El Sistema: Orchestrating Venezuelaโs youth. New York: Oxford University Press.
Booth, E., & Tunstall, T. 2014. Five encounters with โEl Sistemaโ International: A Venezuelan marvel becomes a global movement. Teaching Artist Journal, 12(2): 69-81.
Booth, E., & Tunstall, T. 2016.ย Playing for Their Lives: The Global El Sistema Movement for Social Change Through Music.ย New York: W. W. Norton & Company.
Bull, A. 2016. El Sistema as a bourgeois social project: Class, gender, and Victorian values. Action, Criticism, and Theory for Music Education, 15(1), 120-53.
Creech, A., Gonzales-Moreno, P., Lorenzino, L., Waitman, G., Bates, L., Swan, A., de Jesus Carillo Mendez, R., Hernandes, D.N.C., & Gonzales, P. C. 2016. El Sistema and Sistema-inspired programmes: A literature review of research, evaluation, and critical debates (2nd ed.). San Diego, California: Sistema Global.
Osborne, M. S., McPherson, G. E., Faulkner, R., Davidson, J. W., & Barrett, M. S. 2015. Exploring the academic and psychosocial impact of El Sistema-inspired music programs within two low socio-economic schools. Music Education Research, 18(2), 156-175.
Trinick, Robyn and Stuart McNaughton. 2013. Independent evaluation of the music learning outcomes in the Sistema Aotearoa Programme. Report prepared for Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra. Faculty of Education, the University of Auckland.
Uy, M. S. 2012. Venezuelaโs national music education program El Sistema: Its interactions with society and its participantsโ engagement in praxis. Music and Arts in Action, 4(1): 5-2.
Recently I started a new research project looking at the social impacts of three Sistema-inspired orchestral music education programmes operating in low decile schools in the Wellington region, where I live. El Sistema is a Venezuelan music and social development initiative that began in 1975 and is today one of the world’s largest and most famous orchestral music education programmes. Sistema-inspired programmes operate in over 60 countries and there are at least six here in New Zealand, including Auckland-based Sistema Aotearoa. My new project involves working with kids: those involved in the orchestral programmes, and my own. In this post I reflect on what it’s like to do fieldwork with my kids in tow, and in the next I’ll discuss how I plan to work with the children in these programmes.
It took me a good couple of years after finishing my PhD to start a new major research project. There were a few reasons for this. Two weeks after submitting my PhD I started working as a lecturer on a series of short-term contracts which meant constantly developing and teaching new courses. I needed to publish from my dissertation so I could secure a permanent academic position – something that is extraordinarily difficult as an adjunct, as many blogs,news articles and #quitlit posts on social media have pointed out. I had my daughter in 2012. And I needed some space to think about what I wanted to work on for the foreseeable future. In 2013 I was employed on a 3-year, part-time contract, meaning I could access university research funding not available to those on short-term contracts. This, combined with the fact that you need to be research-active with a track record of obtaining funding in order to compete for academic jobs, meant it was a good time to develop a new research project.
When I started my PhD I had not yet met my husband and children were not on my horizon, so everything and anything seemed possible. Now I had two other people to think about in deciding where, how, and what I wanted to research – in that order. I wanted to do ethnographic fieldwork in Wellington and continue my interest in development and social justice. Basing my new project in Wellington was also a practical decision: I could take my daughter with me, I wouldn’t need to be away from home for extended periods of time, and I could get started without the security of funding or a permanent job. Coming up with a feasible project was more difficult, but a serendipitous sequence of events led me to Sistema Aotearoa and eventually the charitable organisations that run Sistema-inspired orchestral music programmes in Hutt Valley and Porirua.
I was pregnant with my second child by the time I established relationships with the organisations, developed a research proposal and obtained funding, and received ethics approval to begin the research. Ethnographic fieldwork was relatively straightforward to begin with as I could take my music-loving daughter and composer/conductor/musician husband along to interviews and performances. Things became a bit tricker after our son was born last year.
Part of my field-and-carework kit
For a start, my fieldwork kit expanded significantly from a pen, notebook, iPad and camera to include nappy bag, frontpack, and buggy as well as preschooler snacks and activities. I didn’t always have my daughter with me but my son was now a permanent attachment, meaning I relied heavily on family and research assistants for help. He still breastfeeds frequently at night and at the moment my fieldwork doesn’t extend to evening rehearsals as it is just too difficult to get away after the dinner-bath-bed routine. I do go to some evening and weekend performances, usually with one or both kids in tow, and my husband or mother-in-law (also a musician).
Combining fieldwork with carework is not easy. I no longer write notes in the field while my kids are with me, instead relying on my memory, what Simon Ottenberg terms ‘headnotes’ (in the 1990 book Fieldnotes: The Makings of Anthropologyย edited by Roger Sanjek), and my GoPro camera. I miss things when I’m breastfeeding or changing nappies or leaving the room with a screaming baby or taking a preschooler who’s had enough somewhere else to play. (I have a keen recollection of my then 3-year-old daughter standing up during the middle of a concert and loudly announcing, “That’s enough, everyone wants to go home now.”) My kids miss me when I pay attention to the person I’m interviewing or spend an afternoon at music lessons without them. I often don’t get time to write up my fieldnotes in Evernote at the end of the day, and I definitely don’t have the same amount of time or headspace available to just think.
Despite the difficulties, there are a lot of things I enjoy about combining fieldwork with carework. I like my children being able to see and participate in what I do and love watching their interest in music grow. I get a different perspective when sitting on the floor with my son. My daughter often makes interesting observations about things that I hadn’t noticed, and I value being able to discuss the musical aspects of performances with my husband and mother-in-law. I also appreciate the connections I can make with the children I’m working with, who invariably ask “whose mother are you?” upon meeting me, and also with their parents.
Doing fieldwork with children in tow is not new; a number of anthropologists and geographers have offered useful insights into how one’s children can shape the research process. Kelly Dombroski’s excellent blog post on carework in fieldwork discusses some recent publications on this topic (including her own). However I have not yet come across much work that reflects on fieldwork at home with children. Even this “Family in the Field” survey of anthropologists undertaking fieldwork with their children assumes that ‘the field’ is somewhere away from home.
Do you do ethnographic fieldwork with your kids at locations close to your home? Do you know of people who have written about this? I would love to hear of your experiences!
At a concert with my 5 month old (note the buggy doubling as a tripod)
Following on from my post last year, here is a list of theses (Masters and PhD) published in anthropology departments in Aotearoa New Zealand in 2014. My list includes all major universities except for Auckland University of Technology, not because AUT doesn’t offer anthropology (it does, in the School of Social Sciences and Public Policy) but because it takes an interdisciplinary approach and I couldn’t tell which of its theses were more or less ‘anthropological.’
I compiled this list by searching the New Zealand National Union Catalogue of the National Library of New Zealand, which holds masters theses and doctoral dissertations awarded by New Zealand universities. I also searched individual university library catalogues and online research commons. I used the keywords “anthropology” and “thesis” in my search. Some catalogues were more difficult to navigate than others and I had restricted access to several resources, so my apologies to those whose names I have missed. Please comment below if you have a thesis to add to this list or correction I need to make.
I was inspired by the conference theme and have developed the paper below (based on my PhD research) to focus on how grassroots organisations become responsibilized in the absence of effective state interventions in urban poor areas.
TITLE: Responsibilizing grassroots organisations in “forgotten places” in Howrah, West Bengal, India.
ABSTRACT:
In 1991 the Government of India implemented widespread economic liberalisation policies which, as well as contributing to India’s recent economic rise to global significance, had important and uneven effects on various social groups within India. Despite official reports of declining poverty in India, neoliberal ideas and policies have not improved the lives of those living in poverty – many of whom are Muslim – in bastis in Howrah, West Bengal. This paper argues that Howrah’s bastis are “forgotten places,” historically and politically constructed enclaves that are neglected, but nevertheless deeply inhabited, by the state. In these bastis, services that are the responsibility of the state – such as access to education – are not adequately provided for, leaving a gap that NGOs and grassroots organisations try to fill. This paper provides an ethnographic account of what happens in such “forgotten places” by describing the efforts of Howrah Pilot Project, an organisation that seeks to address this gap by running a grassroots-level, nonformal school in one of Howrah’s bastis. Processes of ‘active forgetting’ serve to responsibilize such organisations, but their practices need to be augmented by a responsive state in order to achieve meaningful, long-term, beneficial change.
Ever wondered what kind of topics graduate students in anthropology work on in ‘the antipodes’ (a term I’ve often heard used to describe where I’m from)? The following is a list of theses (Masters and PhD) published in anthropology departments in Aotearoa New Zealand in 2013.
I compiled the list by searching the New Zealand National Union Catalogue of the National Library of New Zealand, which holds masters theses and doctoral dissertations awarded by New Zealand universities as well as individual university library catalogues. I used the keywords “anthropology” and “thesis” in my search. Some catalogues were more difficult to navigate than others and I had restricted access to several resources, so my apologies to those whose names I have missed.
The theses are listed in alphabetical order according to the surname of the graduate. Congratulations to everyone to everyone who received degrees!
Tombs and trade: strontium and mobility at ed-Dur (U.A.E.), by Augusta Violet Bunting.
Anthropology, University of Auckland
Degree: MA Biological Anthropology
Buying fair: the moral assemblage of Trade Aid and its supporters / Corinna Frances Howland.
Anthropology, University of Auckland
Degree: Master of Arts
“Still at natureโs mercy”: human-environmental relations after the Christchurch earthquakes, by Heidi Elisabet Kaฬkelaฬ.
Anthropology, University of Auckland
Degree: Master of Arts
Assessing the temporal foundations of supra-regional models for early to mid-Holocene climate-cultural change, northeast Africa, byย Natasha Phillips.
Anthropology, University of Auckland
Degree: Master of Arts
Understanding the culturally modified tree record and the socio-economy of the Weipa mission in Cape York, Australia, by Eleanor Jeneen Sturrock.
Anthropology, University of Auckland
Degree: Master of Arts
