Tag Archives: social behavior

History Carnival 129: A Brave New Year

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Here at Performing Humanity, we’re thrilled to have a chance to kick off the new year in collaboration with History Carnival.  Over the past month you have nominated some of the most exciting history blogs and articles of December 2013; and we were fascinated to locate trends regarding the human body, its interiority, and what we learn when those interiors are publicly exposed. Some historians were intrigued by the reverse: what do exteriors teach us about humans and their interiors? Furthermore, what relationships do individual bodies have to the systems they build, participate in, control, and are controlled by?

George Campbell Gosling examined the relationships among internal medicine, nutrition, and human compassion during wartime in Japan, telling the story of Cicely Williams and her roles in the Changi Gaol and with the World Health Organization.

Concerned the adornment of the surfaces of human bodies, Mark Patton posted at English Historical Fiction Authors about a cache of 16th-17th century jewels lost during the Great Fire and unearthed in London in 1912. His reflection suggested that such ornaments reveal a great deal more about their owners’ interior sympathies and alliances than one might expect.

Recent work at Women’s History Network continues the trend of focusing on female bodies; in this case, the blog tracks stories from female refugees during WWI and considers the challenges they faced in owning their  bodies, having social agency, and claiming space within their families while confronting international conflict.

A Visitor’s Guide to Victorian England highlighted the inside/outside realities of prison, focusing on the role Holloway Prison played for men and women accused of crimes.

With a similar interest, Nancy Bilyeau of English Historical Fiction Authors, considered the Westminster Gate-House Prison and the famous poets and adventurers it once housed.

The Smithsonian’s blog Past Imperfect took us back to the 1980s to consider the emergence of the AIDS epidemic and how a variety of ad campaigns for safe sex dealt with issues of race and sexual orientation. Similar considerations were occurring at Nursing Clio, where Rachel Epp Buller explored the history of the epidemic and how, as a result of changes in social behavior and medical treatment, safe-sex and health advertising campaigns have been able to shift their message from the community and towards individuals.Screen Shot 2013-12-27 at 12.15.58 PM

Ken Owen, at The Junto Blog, discussed how opening American history to acknowledge slavery, contact narratives, and cross-national interactions both helps us to educate our students responsibly about our complex human past, but also poses challenges to survey courses facing time constraints.

While The Junto was concerned with how opening history effects current communities, The History Vault featured an interview with Adrian Teal — the questions du jour emphasized the personal nature of historical studies and research methods.

Across multiple blogs and Twitter, the past, present, and future of the academic profession came under debate, with particular attention to the crisis surrounding contingent and adjunct faculty. In response to news emerging from UC Riverside about its timeline for notifying interview candidates, Rebecca Schuman of Pan Kisses Kafka called a search committee to task for assuming that past approaches to the MLA attendance hold true for scholars emerging into an evolving and increasingly strained market. Claire Potter, of Tenured Radical, responded by drawing attention to the ways social media has changed past approaches to conflict, conflict resolution, and discourse surrounding in-field tension. Chiming in as well, Post Academic in NYC asserted that such debates at times lose sight of the treatment of contingent faculty and graduate students — “unconscionable” treatment that might lead us to question academia’s position qua profession.

Finally, the passing of Nelson Mandela prompted The National Archives’ Rediscovering Black History to repost Tina L. Ligon and Michael Arzate’s post celebrating the leader’s last birthday. Here, the writers performed a photo and narrative retrospective of the fight Mandela led for human rights. Not afraid to tackle the difficult questions of posturing, positioning, and historical revision surrounding Mandela and Apartheid, Jamie Miller asked at The Imperial and Global Forum why our knowledge of the system remains incomplete and what responsibilities we have to fill the lacunae.

Thanks to the talented bloggers whose work we’ve featured, to those who provided nominations, to History Carnival for its collaboration, and to all of our readers for their support!

“Blurred Lines” in Popular Culture

By Dr. Miranda Garno Nesler

In Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses, Louis Althusser asserts that the social process of interpollation offers individuals specific identities and encourages them to accept certain social roles. Rather than functioning through violent force, oppressive ideologies encourage individuals to view and accept themselves as dominant or submissive, for example, with education, mass media, and religion shaping how the individual behaves within the larger group. Ideologies are most effective when they proliferate quietly and invisibly, seeming so much a part of daily life that we simply don’t question them.

Certainly the animalization of women — and women’s sexuality in particular — provides an example of this. As past posts have discussed, early modern women were often described as hyenas, harpies, nags, and horses; the animalistic language associated with women had material effects, and it became socially justifiable to treat women as those animals, disciplining them through the use of the scold’s bridle or through beatings allowed by the Rule of Thumb. While these concepts at times shock modern readers, they aren’t as foreign as they seem. Indeed, these vocabularies persist in political debates regarding women’s sexuality, rape, and reproductive rights. Appearing in overtly public spaces, animalistic language often generates protest reactions: how dare politicians, the state, or other dominant groups belittle women’s humanness? Yet as Althusser noted, we ourselves aid in its perpetuation — interpollated as we are to see popular culture as a “harmless” space.

Take, for example, Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines,” in which the male speaker addresses the “good girl” who, he is convinced, “must want to get nasty” with him (1).  Featured at clubs and on the AT40, the song is also number one on Spotify. Yet the song is more than a simple, catchy tune. As recent  feminist criticism has discussed, the lyrics’ repetition of “you know you want it, you know you want it” echoes the kind of victim-blaming that still accompanies sexual assault in court rooms and the media.  Such debate opens us toward acknowledging that Thicke’s song does more than “blur lines” between the social and sexual expectations placed on men and women,  as  Thicke insists in interviews; it further blurs our ability to identify consent and non-consent and troubles the dichotomy that attempts to define neatly  “good” and “bad” girls (2).

These issues are of clear interest to us at Performing Humanity. Even more relevant to our work is that these arguments get pushed further when we consider how Thicke’s song addresses the lines between animal and human — and human women most of all:

Ok, now he was close, tried to domesticate you

But you’re an animal, baby it’s in your nature

Just let me liberate you

You don’t need no papers

That man is not your maker (1)

In an Althusserian sense, the song taps into and perpetuates conceptions of sexual women as animalistic — language of domestication, taming, breeding, and pedigreeing are part and parcel of this. “Blurred Lines” is, of course, not unique in this sense (one only need turn on the radio, for example, and listen to the lyrics of Flo-Rida’s “Wild Ones”). Things become increasingly complicated, though, when we consider how songs like these also undermine the structures in which they participate. What empowering possibilities exist when we consider that domestication or pedigreed breeding are presented as undesirable? What happens when the voice expressing desire for domination, as in the case of “Wild Ones,” is a woman’s? (3)  After all, in recent scholarship the work of queer theorist and renaissance specialist Melissa Sanchez and, in popular culture, novels such as Fifty Shades of Gray, have drawn attention to the empowering possibilities of transgressive and violent sexualities.

Performing Humanity invites further discussion on all sides of the issue — in Comments or through formal Submissions.



(1) Robin Thicke, “Blurred Lines,” Blurred Lines (Star Trak LLC, 2013).

(2) Bruno Nessif, “Robin Thicke Slams ‘Ridiculous’ Criticism Over ‘Blurred Lines’ Lyrics,” E! Online (July 9, 2013).

(3) Flo-Rida, “Wild Ones,” Wild Ones (Atlantic Records, 2013).

Animal Emotion: An Interview with Barbara King

This month,  Performing Humanity has the exciting opportunity to feature our editor’s conversation with Dr. Barbara King, author of The Dynamic Dance: Nonvocal Communication in African Great Apes (2004),  Being With Animals: Why We Are Obsessed With the Furry, Scaly, Feathered Creatures Who Populate Our World (2010) and the recently released How Animals Grieve (2013).   The topic du jour? Animals, emotions, and how sentient beings grieve.Screen Shot 2013-06-12 at 12.07.22 AM

Miranda Nesler: Your recently released book has received attention from both academic and non-specialist communities, and we’re  thrilled to be able to provide the blog readers with a  insight into its creation. Looking backward, when and where did your interest in animal emotion originate?

Barbara King:  For years, I studied communication and cognition in monkeys and apes by observing the day-to-day primate encounters that unfolded before my eyes. With the great apes especially—chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, and orangutans—I couldn’t help but realize that I was seeing not only savvy strategists, but also sentient beings who very much felt their lives. Gradually, the more I read and became focused also on issues of animal welfare, the more I realized that it’s not just our closest living relatives but also many mammals and birds who feel and express emotions. I was hooked.

MN: Among the vast emotions you observed, what led you to focus ultimately on grief and mourning?

BK:  I think there are two quite different answers here. For my previous two books, my research included investigations into the evolution of human burial practices. In digesting archaeological material, I began to notice reports of humans buried right alongside animals—for example, as long ago as 8000 years, a man was interred with a lamb in Turkey. From there, because I am used to thinking in an evolutionary framework, the next question emerged naturally: How do nonhuman animals grieve and mourn? I know already about elephants’ emotional responses to death, but once I began the research, I was stunned at how much additional information I found.

There’s a more personal answer, too. Like many people around my age, I’m involved with caring for an elderly parent with physical troubles and some degree of dementia. Though by no means unusual, this tilting of the world wherein one becomes parent to the parent generates an experience ripe for a sort of anticipatory mourning. That very entangled mix of love and sadness is, I think, the core subject of my book.

MN: It’s interesting that, as scholars, we’re encouraged at times to deny the subjective emotions that lead us to our work.  And yet, as in this case, it’s what leads us to crucial ethical and existential contributions. It’s almost as though “emotion” makes us more animal—less “rational human”—something I hope we can discuss more!  On the academic side of your work, what forms of research and field-work go into a project like this one?

BK: My primary sources were the peer-reviewed scientific literature; interviews with people who are acute observers of animals, whether in the wild, sanctuaries, zoos, farms, or homes; and my own observations of animals ranging from primates to our household’s (many) rescued housecats. For several years, I concentrated on primary research and academic writing, and I have now taken a turn, a well-loved and exciting turn, towards writing about animals and anthropology for general audiences rather than academic ones. I do hope, though, there is overlap.

MN: It’s an issue so relevant to both audiences. But this approach is also potentially more overtly personal than work targeted to traditionally academic or specialized readers. When taking this approach to writing and when dealing directly in research with human and animal subjects, does it ever become difficult to maintain objectivity or avoid emotional involvement in the study? To what degree is objectivity an aim or something that actually undercuts the project?

BK: When working on the book, I kept in mind what I tell my students: If you have a favored hypothesis, or a bias toward some phenomenon you may expect to find during research, redouble your efforts to scrutinize critically how you handle and interpret the evidence you gather. For me, this meant working hard on each case as it came up and trying to think up and assess alternative explanations for animal grief and mourning. And sometimes I do embrace those alternative explanations. I wanted to use definitions and criteria that allow me to walk a line: rigorously applying standards to candidate examples of animal grief and mourning while recognizing what (some) animals themselves convey to us: that they feel their lives deeply and express their emotions accordingly. So, while I never wanted to avoid emotional involvement with the material—I love and respect animals too much for that to be either possible or desirable—I did want to be rigorous.

In today’s animal-behavior science, part of being rigorous is to understand the degree of individual variation within animal species. In the first place, I would be surprised if beetles, snakes, and frogs—they are animals too!—are capable of mourning. But in the second place, in species where animals may show significant mourning, ranging from elephants and dolphins to dogs and ducks, it’s a matter of personality, individual social history, and the relationship of the survivor to the one who has died. Some animals are only curious, or indifferent, when a companion dies.

MN: It’s interesting to consider the range of intensity or expression that can occur not only among species but within them. What significant overlaps or distinctions do you see in the way that human grief compares to domesticated and non-domesticated animals, respectively?  And could you say a bit more about what differences you observe between those animal groups?

BK:  One chapter in my book is called “Writing Grief.” In it, I explore some grief memoirs I’ve read, none of which affected me more deeply than C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed (1961). In acute anguish, Lewis describes the process by which his beloved memories of his wife gradually begin to dim after her death. As I write in that chapter, “In grief’s grasp, he relentlessly revisits the past and anticipates the future.” I know that sometimes, nonhuman animals do revisit the past and anticipate the future, but we humans do this in grief to an unparalleled extent. Our keen awareness of the fact that those we love, and we ourselves, will die, is a novel evolutionary development, I think.

Human grief is at times global. We have all found ourselves struck through with sorrow at a stranger’s death, or the loss of strangers in large numbers. We may learn of lives lost through the media or feel the impact most fully while visiting a mass memorial in Berlin, Hiroshima, or Manhattan.

Still, there are some overlaps—and many unknowns—even with these distinctions. I fiercely feel that we should not head too far in the direction of avowed human uniqueness. The study of animal grief is nascent, and we have more questions than answers. This includes our knowledge about animal memory and generalized animal mourning. Some questions may be answered in the future with keen observation, whereas others may be unanswerable within the bounds of science. Elephant babies who witnessed the death of their families at the hands of poachers suffer distressed sleep and sometimes nightmares. Are they dreaming memories of their loved ones? Wild elephants may gently manipulate and caress the bleached bones of other elephants. Sometimes the bones are of kin, but not always. Do elephants mourn strangers?

One area that interests me is that with domesticated species such as horses, dogs, and cats, there seems a heightened opportunity for cross-species mourning: animals who mourn us, just as we mourn them. While I am out in Yellowstone National Park observing the majestic bison, I don’t hold any illusion that the bison care much about me or would have any emotion for me—which is as it should be! They are wild animals concerned with their own lives.

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  MN: Do you see important social or ethical implications emerging from such comparisons?

  BK: The very point of writing this book for me is to ask all of us collectively to think hard about the choices we make when it comes to treatment of other animals. I’ve been an animal lover forever and a long-time advocate for primates such as chimpanzees who are confined in unspeakable conditions in biomedical laboratories; but to be honest, it’s only been in the last 5-10 years that I’ve educated myself fully about the effects on so many animals of our willingness to use them egregiously for our own purposes. Five or so years ago, I would’ve gone to Sea World to watch captive, performing marine mammals without a second thought; and back then I was eating chickens and turkeys (though not cows, pigs, and lambs).

Dolphins may grieve their losses, including when they are separated from their loved ones; cow moms may grieve when their calves are taken away for slaughter. To me, the knowledge that so many animals love and grieve brings more urgency to issues of animal welfare. Admittedly, at the same time, animals who don’t love and grieve also need our attention.

MN: This is an issue of debate across history—and something that Performing Humanity has tried to emphasize by connecting past and present debates. To what degree do you see historical artistic, literary, or legal representations of animals acknowledging or denying their ability to grieve?  Did any such texts shape your study?

BK: To Marc Bekoff, I send extreme credit and respect. Marc is an animal behaviorist and author of books including The Emotional Lives of Animals (2008) and (with Jessica Pierce) Wild Justice (2010). His writings illuminate the lives of animals. He cuts through inflated claims of human cognitive and emotional uniqueness and, just as we discussed above, does so with a primary goal of working for animals and their welfare, of awakening our responsibility to do this now and not later. Marc’s work has significantly influenced my own writing and activism.

I could mention many other works—in anthropology, the writings of Tim Ingold and Eduardo Kohn; the entire Animal Series (2004-2012) from Reaktion Books, ranging from Ape to Frog to Mosquito, all of which I have reviewed for the Times Literary Supplement; and books like Andrew Westoll’s The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary (2011). It’s not so much that these volumes dwell on grief per se, as that they open up a wide space to think openly about animals, animal lives, and what animal lives mean in their own right apart from human concerns.

MN: Earlier, we discussed that your work (like so much quality scholarship) is also personal. Is there any particularly important moment that occurred during the project that you can share with readers to illustrate this?

BK:  Six weeks after the book came out, a bolt out of the blue hit my family and me. I was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of uterine cancer. After a 6-hour surgery done in May, and 6 months yet to come of chemotherapy and radiation, my prognosis should be good. This sudden entry into a serious medical situation has left me thinking about people around the world who face similar calamities with far fewer medical and financial resources available than I have.

What does all this have to do with animal grief? At some visceral level, I feel the answer is… everything. How Animals Grieve is about what it is to be alive, thinking, feeling, and loving. So many of us animals, human and nonhuman, do those things, and we as a result may also grieve. Somehow, and I very much recognize how lucky I am in my loving family and friends, the resources available to me, and indeed my prognosis, all this made me feel even more connected to the animal stories in the book.

MN: Barbara, I can’t say how glad I am we had the chance to talk. Thank you for taking the time to share with me and the readers.


Recent Discussion of Dr. King’s Work also appears at  NPR, the NY Post, and TIME Magazine. You can follow her on Twitter @bjkingape.

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