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This methodology has become a standard strategy in a variety of design-based disciplines including theater making, urban planning, product design and software development, to name a few. Bringing together multiple constituents in the emergent phase of a design project makes it possible to capitalize on the divergent impulses and expertise of a group to generate a solution that no individual member has the capacity to propose on his or her own.
The format capitalizes on rapid response, partial knowledge and productive misunderstanding. Individual members of the group are expected to engage without a comprehensive understanding of the goals or background of a particular project as non-experts and use the insights available to them to generate speculative solutions. Unlike a simple brainstorming session, the design charrette seeks to embody this knowledge in a variety of prototyped solutions developed rapidly and assessed by the group.
Applying the strategy to social conditions, the realm of ethnography provides both challenges and opportunities. While this occurs routinely during graduate study, in which projects are vetted by advisors and senior faculty, we see the development of charrettes being of particular interest to mid-career scholars engaging in second or later projects. Second projects by their nature often seek to extend the insights and expertise gained during initial research to new field sites or to extend them to related themes.
More importantly, second and later projects in anthropology often challenge or require innovations in the emblematic culture of method which inaugurates careers. There are several modes of design charrette that can serve as a potential model including theatrical collaborations as was operative, for instance, in our earlier Sq. We will focus here on the latter since it served as the tacit model for our work in Pasadena. Our design charrette approach most closely modeled that used in product design, as typified by the client-designer relationship in which the client provides a brief that prompts a design response.
The brief seeks to encapsulate the goals of the project. In the context of a product this may entail both intangible notions of style and brand identity as well as practical instruction about deliverables, cost-basis and target audience. For example, a shoe company seeks to develop a new line of running apparel. They might present their in-house or contracted designers with an amorphous collection of inspirations for the product including both references to existing products made by their competition and other prompts only tangentially related to shoes themselves such as music, automobiles, fashion photography, and verbal descriptors.
The design team then seeks to reflect back to the client not simply what they have asked for, but rather a better, more insightful materialization of their implicit desires. Therein lies the value added by the design process. The setting of the Wind Tunnel gave us access to masters-level design students in the lab who could serve as designers for a client: As designers, they were accustomed to working in an information-poor mode, often expecting to produce design proposals based on very little information about what a client might want.
We played an intermediary role facilitating this information-poor modality by asking Richland to present a brief about his project to the team. This is challenging for academics because we are accustomed to providing quite thorough material to our peers. Professionalism in our field is conveyed in part by performances through which we point to our rich data, theoretical framework, and the broader implications of our work.
In turn, our peers weigh the significance and generalizability of our findings. Yet such completeness can foreclose or over-determine the design and ongoing analytic process. Moreover, placing Richland in a client position speaking across areas of expertise to designers forced both a translation process and a process of refining or prioritizing the set of ideas within his project. Cross-disciplinary collaboration is not uncommon among social scientists, and it is recognized that one of the values of collaboration is that it requires those involved to shed their disciplinary jargons.
In our design workshop, Richland had to translate and also distill a sprawling set of materials and concerns related to the MSVA in order to instigate a design response. This response came in the form of design speculation, a process often associated with architects or futurists. For our purposes, it simply meant asking the designer to propose materializations or interventions in response to ethnographic concerns. Richland began by presenting the design brief and then gave a condensed case history of his experience and suppositions about the project.
In regards to our schema, we posited the case archive as a necessary subject , the starting point upon which the other two elements design interface and interpretative community could be imagined. The speculation quickly focused on the use of storytelling devices.
Published in a serialized form in , the narrative centers on the case of Jarndyce v Jarndyce as it moves through the English Court of Chancery, and highlights the crisis the of the power of testators relative to the rule of law. The Victorian novel, dense in granular detail yet defined by an overarching thematic progression, seemed an appropriate corollary for the kind of narrative clarity we were seeking.
In addition, we employed the large-scale timeline to help the group to visualize the three temporal zones that the case navigated: The four designers immediately began to conceive of possible devices, games, exercises and processes that could hypothetically be designed to materialize some or multiple facets of the prompt.
The list, selections from which are detailed below, was extensive and ranged from the fantastical to the easily rendered. As a first stage in designing a productive encounter, these proposals remained largely theoretical, but one could easily imagine a more extensive charrette project in which actual prototypes could be assembled.
That said, even in a more resource poor studio environment, merely postulating ideas and deferring their articulation until later holds real value for the ethnographer. Addressed to a lesser degree was the identification of possible interpretative communities upon which to play out these ideas, although some of the suggested designs more easily implicate a particular community for engagement. But they were both productive in the sense that they transported Richland to new vantage points, through acts of translation and visualization, from which to consider what he understood thus far about his subject.
They also amplified certain aspects of the Archive that Richland had not been able to hear or see previously. We offer the schema for Productive Encounters both as a tool for ethnography and as a mode of critique through which ethnographers and designers can construct a collaborative process. As a tool, it is best understood and assessed in terms of how it provides ethnographic methods that can address the specific problems of contemporary fieldwork identified, for example, in Faubion and Marcus such as the status of expert subjects and networked field sites.
These experiments could be simultaneously and somewhat differently produced through methods that come within the realm of contemporary art practice and its situated interventions.
Jostling between ethnographic materials and design practices, such as we have described here, and related modes of situated contemporary art invention are on our future agenda. Here, we have chronicled the specific challenge, and methodological response, that was afforded us during our week in the Wind Tunnel, workshopping an emergent ethnographic project in a molten state, so to speak. It stimulated the formulation of the Productive Encounter model that we propose speculatively for the first time in this essay. Reflecting on our experiments in this modality prompts us to return to the question raised above: Ideally, a Productive Encounter clarifies and enriches solitary strategies of ethnographic research in progress through collaborative design modalities.
These modalities a encourage a self-assembling process that b incentivizes and creates occasions for interlocutors to engage and c amplifies thinking, ideas and insights among micro-publics and in relevant sites of inquiry, beyond those which might have been perceived or considered by the lone ethnographer cultivating subjects in the field.
Productive Encounters thus generate unique, deeply felt articulations of contemporary problems that ethnographers have previously tried to gather and interpret in the classic fashion from their interviews, conversations, and observations. Marshall Archive research detail. These traditional methods have not provided a sufficient means to express and develop the research process as modes of thinking—collective, speculative, and creative—before conventional publication and professional assessment. For now, Productive Encounters as experiments in methodological practice remain alongside or in the background of ethnographic process, but they have the potential to play a more definitive role in the evolution of ethnography as a form of observation, analysis, and representation.
Here we elaborate briefly on each of the features that have contributed to the modality of Productive Encounters at the intersection between design and ethnography, and that have been especially useful for us in our own recent history of collaboration. One of the underlying logics of the Productive Encounter is assumption that the act of assembling, making or materializing something externalizes what are more typically internal analytic processes.
Moreover, the making of these projects also provides a way to think through or reveal the process by they are made. Using utility a value championed in design discourse as a guiding force, we seek a kind of self-assembling work that adopts an exploratory approach, in which an object, gesture or supposition is first made without a pre-defined theoretical framework; then in a dialogic process, the work reveals its own signifying systems. This responsive approach demands a lack of medium-specificity from the artist or designer their responses can take almost any form.
Clear connections can be seen here to the rise of a complex array of time-based, social or relational aesthetic projects debated and assessed by scholars like Bishop , Bourriaud , and Kester It may be useful here to think, in a strictly metaphoric sense, about the kind of relationship that is presumed to exist between an artist and the autonomous art object. For instance when a painter like Gerhard Richter suggests that his work instructs him, he creates a purposive schism between his intentionality and the product of his hand.
For Productive Encounters, the materialization of ideas creates a useful schism between observation and written analysis because it inserts an intermediary process by which the ethnographer allows working or speculative knowledge to emerge through an encounter that is experimental, responsive and unpredictable.
Designing chance operations, as our design collaborators began to do with the Stern v. Marshall Archive , can help the ethnographer overcome the limitations of a habituated intellectual framework and develop new terms in which ethnographic data can be explicated. The iconographic power of Anna Nicole and J.
Marshall Stern created make it difficult for him to tell the story in a satisfying manner, a problem Richland keenly anticipated at the start of his work on the project. For almost any researcher, the embedded framework of understanding whether narrative, theoretical or aesthetic limits the product. Productive Encounters use incentives and invent context-sensitive situations to materialize a micro-public or temporary interpretative community of variable composition to realize ethnographic ideas already active in planned or initiated field research.
Engagement with an idea or subject is incentivized using design strategies like beauty, playfulness, utility, or exchange. Productive Encounters incentivize a potential interpretative community to invest in or draw near the subject of the research. Incentivization is an idea often associated with marketing or behavioral science; we seek to reclaim it as an active strategy for engagement with interlocutors that pushes against the notion that anthropologists are unlike their interlocutors in their motivation to develop insights about the social world.
The type and manner of incentive will vary widely depending on the design of the intervention and how a project is concretized. As such, formal beauty, indeterminacy a provocation of curiosity through the combination of incongruous forms, such as using dance to convey multilateral trade, shifting perspective through the miniaturization of the WTO headquarters building in model form, or non-linguistic embodiments of institutional directives, etc. Nonetheless, art became an opportune site for public discourse, and a space to be occupied by our ethnographically-informed intervention.
It became an ideal strategic place in which to situate ourselves in order to negotiate an engagement with the otherwise reluctant, indifferent or non comprehending informants who regularly passed through the halls of the building. This was in effect the production of a Productive Encounter as a second act of ethnography, stimulating engagement in a modality other than the vernaculars of economics, trade negotiation, bureaucracy, or diplomacy. Our earlier project, Sq. The project took the form of a mobile full-scale motel room designed to resemble the typical dwellings of the homeless families in Orange County, CA.
The model motel room was a private space filled with the artifacts of family life in which one could, for instance, peek into cupboards and closets, glance through family photo albums and open the medicine chest; at the same time, objects in the space a clock radio, a drawer, the heating vent, etc. The hundreds of people who have toured Sq. The design workshop for the Stern v. Marshall Archive, the other variation on the Productive Encounter modality that we have have focused on in this essay, worked purely in the speculative realm to examine and re-configure the conceptualization of fieldwork yet to be done.
Reluctant informants are a common problem faced by ethnographers that the Productive Encounter seeks to reconceptualize in practical and specific ways. Most ethnographic projects face certain barriers in engaging subjects in meaningful and revelatory discourse. Reluctance may stem from issues of trust, language, class difference or simply the inability to express tacit knowledge. To overcome these obstacles anthropologists expect immersion depth and duration are key evaluative criteria of ethnographic research and mimicry adopting the stance and argot of the native of its practitioners.
Both strategies rely on a brilliant individual fieldworker who can employ the techniques with skill and subtlety. A designed intervention, modeled here as a Productive Encounter, is a mediating apparatus and process that illuminates how ethnographic knowledge is collaboratively produced and not simply discovered and collected. Productive Encounters can amplify the more intimate and privately developed knowledge muted in the immersive and solitary frame of traditional ethnographic encounters, and can turn the volume up on tacit knowledge.
Design practices amplify the hunches and suppositions of research-in-progress by testing out different compositions of developed materials and imagined micro-publics. As a first-generation Palestinian American anthropologist, the lived reality of Israeli racial terror is not an abstract concept to learn about from my so-called informants in the field, but an affective force that comes to shape the social bonds of the Palestinian communities about which I care and am a part, one that is viscerally experienced in my own body and psyche.
For the death of the baby that grows in my womb. While women-of-color feminisms have long carved out spaces for consideration of the racialized female body, the disembodied nature of much anthropological discourse—even in its most politically engaged manifestations—often obscures the lived reality of the researcher herself, who navigates regimes of racial and sexual terror.
It is, in fact, these affective embodied experiences see S. Understanding these sites often required a different methodological approach to activist research: The intimacy with which terror invades our minds and bodies also poses a challenge to the idea of the researcher who is inherently privileged in relation to her field site or collaborators.
The global nature of white supremacy affirms race as a fundamental, if adaptable structural logic that constantly produces and legitimates racial hierarchy and power Jung, Costa Vargas, and Bonilla-Silva At the same time, these shared experiences of the embodiment of terror and its wounding effects bind us together across time and space in intimate, womb-like connection with those with whom we work, making us available to each other as ethical-political subjects who can choose to sustain reality Abbas , or to re-birth life in spaces of social death. The road leading to this community in the mountains of southeast Mexico is full of turns; many of the edges of these curves have been lost to the oblivion of the adjacent chasms.
Members of this pacifist indigenous organization were the targets of a bloody display of state violence in the s, in which mostly women and children were killed. That morning I was submitting the results of an initial phase of collaborative work. When I was finally called to enter the office where we were meeting—a single room with no windows—they asked me to sit on a stool placed several feet away from a long table, at which ten male leaders were seated. We are just beginning to know you.
Boyfriends and girlfriends do not get engaged or get married immediately after meeting each other. It is important to know each other well. The sense of caution and distrust that his words conveyed was not what took me by surprise, especially in the context of the ongoing war of attrition in the region and the banning of academic research within other indigenous organizations.
What disconcerted me was his flirtatious tone and the polysemy of the courtship metaphor in these specific circumstances. The murmuring and concealed laughter of the other male leaders in the room made me feel extremely uncomfortable. All of a sudden, I became hyperconscious about my body, singled out in the middle of the dark room, away from the vigilant eyes of the women working in the kitchen.
While the courtship metaphor is commonly used in the region, the way in which this organization publicly talks about collaboration is in terms of brotherhood hermandad , not courtship. Was it precisely the male-centered idea of brotherhood that made this kind of ambiguous exchange possible? Would the president have chosen to use the courtship metaphor with me if I had not been a mestiza? My uncertainty regarding these speculations made me question my forms of privilege and weigh them in relation to my vulnerabilities, leading me to realize that the collaboration I was pursuing with this politically dissident organization was paradoxically subjecting me to the violence of its patriarchal norms.
The more I tried to clarify with the leaders what the idea of wooing meant for them, the more I began to relive previous fieldwork encounters in which uninvited flirtatious remarks preceded other forms of harassment. In an attempt to create respectful boundaries, the interviews we hold often reproduce the hierarchy of an all-knowing man lecturing a woman who is presumed naive and expected to listen.
The act of listening to our interlocutors in the field as women belies a gendered assumption of passivity; as activist anthropologists, we are supposed to subvert that form and make receptivity the basis of an intersubjective construction of meaning. Therefore, the intimacy created through rapport is one of our greatest achievements just as it is, paradoxically, one of our deepest vulnerabilities as women.
After leaving the office, I decided not to dwell on the gendered connotations of this episode. I was familiar with this kind of interactions, having grown up in a culture of machismo in Mexico City and having learned as a lawyer that suppressing my own rage was key to survival in a male-centered profession. In the end, nobody was obligating me to do this research and I was conscious that my privilege as a middle-class mestiza, chilanga, 9 affiliated with a U. Moments of crisis during fieldwork led me and other indigenous and mestiza women to share our accounts of gender violence.
Precisely because of these colonial legacies, access for Kaxlanes nonindigenous people often comes at a price. In the case of women-identified researchers, there is an unspoken assumption that access to traditionally male spaces must be paid with male access to our bodies, whether on physical, emotional, or discursive planes. Sometimes it has functioned as a human shield for more vulnerable populations, while at other times it has been expected to serve as a resource to be shared, a fact that visibilizes the logics of collaborative exchange within male-centered struggles.
Meanwhile, survivors of sexual violence know well that publicly sharing their experiences may revictimize them, especially when others take control of their narratives. Therefore, many of these accounts circulate among women in the form of traumatic secrets that we carry deep in our bodies.
Internalized forms of oppression make us complicit with this violence, insisting that we believe we did something to provoke its outcomes. In the case of women-identified researchers, we feel that these incidents reveal our shortcomings as activist anthropologists. These secrets shame us. It is partly our incomplete understanding of the complexities around these unspoken truths that drives us to maintain our silence.
When we realize that the possibility of collaboration can ultimately rely on these gendered silences, it is then that we need to re-envision our alliances and reorient our paths. In the process of sharing my vulnerabilities with other women, deep sororal connections were formed, backed with a political commitment to help each other. Along one of the winding roads leading to the mountain community, I crossed paths with women who had fruitlessly pushed to get the massacre perpetrated against this organization during the s recognized as a feminicide.
They invited me to participate in a campaign against feminicidal violence, and the grassroots work we did granted me a deeper understanding of the internal contradictions within the indigenous organization as well as the politics of solidarity surrounding it. I realized how much I had naturalized several forms of microaggressions, especially while doing research on more atrocious expressions of violence like massacres and forced displacements.
As the Mujeres Mayas Kaqla have noted, ignoring these microviolences allows us to think that slaughters and feminicides are the exception when in fact they are part of a continuum, structured by colonial forms of oppression and expressed in quotidian forms of violence to which women tend to be the most vulnerable.
Discussing this violence continuum with the male leaders of the indigenous organization was extremely complex. As the experience of women survivors within the indigenous organization taught me, speaking up is not always the best path for healing when patriarchal oppression is what compels us to share our accounts of sexual violence to promote awareness. One of the main challenges we face as feminist activist anthropologists is not only finding productive ways of speaking and writing about gendered violence in the field and its intricate connections with the violence we face at home, but also creating safe social spaces to do so and to heal without giving right-wing opportunists more leverage to suppress revolutionary resistance.
We were meeting to discuss my research on the relationship between indigenous land struggles and gender violence within the context of neoliberal development in Guyana. Despite his support of local queer organizations, his tone belied thinly veiled tolerance of her presumably transgressive femininity read: He advised me to adhere to local custom by partaking in traditional alcoholic drinks, piwari and casiri , as this formed an integral part of socializing, during which people tended to discuss topics they might not otherwise broach.
Because of my Amerindian heritage, I would have to endure. I had lived in my village site for several months before it happened.
I initially focused on building rapport with elders in order to collect oral histories about the riverine community composed of several Amerindian nations. Subsequent generations were thrust into extractive industries like mining and logging, often as exploited laborers. While visiting part of the village with members of my host family, we unexpectedly ran into a well-known elder who had enthusiastically shared Carib oral stories with me on several occasions. After conferring or gyaffing 11 for an hour or so, we decided to tow his boat behind ours to ensure that he reached home safely, as he had been drinking.
Squinting against the glare, I chuckled, unperturbed, with the others at his mumbling inquiries about where his researcher was. Soon, we arrived at our house. His sudden grip on my wrist, fingers digging into my skin, barely registered before it darted between my legs. When I jerked back, he used my body as leverage to haul himself onto the dock. My mind separated from my body. I thought his invasive touch might be a fumbling blunder induced by stupor or imbalance until he began to mumble: He quieted, his grip momentarily relaxing before tightening again.
As though a film was passing over his eyes, he chose to see his researcher as property, as violable flesh. After several weeks, I filed a report with a trusted member of the village policing group. This man acknowledged the prevalence of sexual violence and abuse against Amerindian women in both hinterland and coastal communities and the deeply embedded naturalization of and apathy toward substantive solutions to such violence. Then, with chagrin, he outlined the potential repercussions of reporting my assault, pointing to my skin while rubbing his similarly dark skin: My dark flesh, indeed my blackness, rendered me suspect, culpable in my own sexual assault.
On the other, it revealed the conditional price that racialized women researchers must pay when entering spaces still perceived as the purview of men. Entangled with racialized sexualized assumptions of my bodily worth-value as pre disposed for gratuitous violence, his statement attempted to discipline me into accepting those costs without protest.
A pervasive and insidious assumption surrounding fieldwork is that you put read: In order to grasp fieldwork as anthropological labor, the story goes, our bodies—mental, physical, and spiritual—must experience the milieu of doubt, alienation, tears, and frustration so as to return altered. Only by getting lost do we find our anthropological selves. I knew that part of my paralysis stemmed from a void of spirit. Even as the spiritual as embodied praxis offers me redress for each of my selves—both physical and spiritual—it must also contend with the everyday forces that seek to dismember, categorize, and alienate.
These realities form the terrain that we collectively navigate with others to construct spaces for imagining liberation and other pathways of freedom—even in the midst of internalized hierarchies and violences. Through listening to my body—as well as metaphysical and spiritual bodies—I learned that surrender never equates with retreat or loss, and not knowing does not mean fewer possibilities for envisioning forms of relationality not confined to the methodological and epistemological parameters we have come to accept as our horizon.
The ethnographic vignettes we have shared depict differentially situated locations within global structures of power; to engage them within the same analytical frame therefore entails a commitment to the project of transnational feminist solidarity, one that deserves further discussion. By collectively voicing our experiences with gender and sexual violence in the field, we highlight assumptive logics within activist anthropology that, we contend, do not escape the hegemony of heteropatriarchal power that plagues positivist methods.
When preparing for fieldwork activist anthropologists are required to be meticulous about how we will safeguard the rights and well-being of those with whom we work, while advancing collaborative processes of knowledge production. Yet our differentially marked physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being remains largely absent from discussion, a silence implying that such concerns fall outside the politics of research.
The ethnographic scenes we have shared are not worst-case scenarios but rather point to the naturalization of how patriarchy operates as a continuum of violence that undergirds the field. Thus, activist anthropology must deconstruct the performance of gender neutrality in preparing students for fieldwork, encouraging intersectionality as both analytic and embodied praxis. Centering the body in the stakes of activist research advances the path toward the project of decolonizing anthropology.
We envision a critical feminist activist anthropology that holds us politically accountable to our interlocutors as well as to our own embodied reality, as part of the same liberatory struggle, albeit differentially located along the continuum of black and indigenous liberation. Our colleagues, both women and men, must share the responsibility of centering queer, trans, and feminist epistemologies in their teaching and advising practices.
Heteropatriarchy is a structural force not reducible to the body, in which people of all gendered identities un consciously invest. Far from holding the hands of women of color, queer, and gender-nonconforming researchers, we advocate a critical feminist ethos and politics at the most formative stage in the development of anthropologists. The tools needed to survive in the field cannot necessarily be found within traditional feminist anthropological approaches that hinge on uniformly horizontalizing the power of the researcher in the communities where she works.
Instead, our training must entail grounded discussions of the particular challenges nonmale, nonwhite, nonhetero, and noncisgender bodies face in order to be better prepared as researchers.
Violence. Ethnographic Encounters. Editor(s): Parvis Ghassem-Fachandi Media of Violence Series: Encounters: Experience and Anthropological Knowledge. “This is an essential book in Berg's important 'Encounters: Experience and Anthropological Knowledge' series, which addresses crucial yet little discussed.
If we are invested in the project of decolonizing anthropology, we must encourage this critical feminist ethos in everyday interactions throughout the process of becoming anthropologists. In addition to bringing embodiment to the practice of activist anthropology, we must continue to search for new ways to incorporate forms of praxis that come from outside the academy. Spirituality offers one pathway to reimagine our methodological tools while providing affective redress; grounding politically engaged anthropology in black and indigenous feminist teachings at the level of both ethnographic process and product offers yet another.
In each of our cases, working with decentralized, diffuse feminist political networks as well as more localized feminist organizations strengthened our politics of fugitivity and allowed us to devise alternative strategies that honored our embodied experiences. These pathways emerged through the practice of collaboration with other women in the field, through which we were able to cultivate bonds of caring that extend beyond our bodies of work.
In these nurturing bonds and praxis we identify the core of a feminist ethos, whose continuation in the academy is politically vital and spiritually necessary.
Acknowledging our embodied experiences grounds us to research and write from places of positioned truth. And, since the field travels within our bodies, a new language is also needed to articulate these analytical possibilities. Decolonization is indeed a project worth fighting for.
Recognizing how patriarchy is folded into the methods of activist anthropology and calling for the dismantling of such violence is, after all, a call for the end of the world. While working in pairs as researchers, for example, or forming emotional support networks may partially counter the dangers of lone fieldwork, reformist solutions mute the structural antagonisms we highlight. We recognize, in doing so, a central contradiction: Our continued investment in the project of decolonizing anthropology suggests that justice, in some sense, exists. Our written words betray our screams, which are neither audible nor appropriate in the academy.
Confronting violence not just as individual survivors, but as knowledge producers enhances our collective struggle. Yet at the same time, we realize that these provocations may damage our careers in the academy and our relationships to local struggles that we have worked to cultivate. How, then, can we imagine a way of doing activist research that does not reproduce violence against ourselves, as racialized, sexualized, women anthropologists speaking from places of intimate connection with those with whom we align our work?
Write a review Rate this item: Preview this item Preview this item. Oxford ; New York: Encounters--experience and anthropological knowledge. English ed View all editions and formats Summary: From large-scale acts of terrorism to assaults on single individuals, violence is a defining force in shaping human experience and a central theme in anthropological study.
Ethnographic Encounters presents a set of vivid first-hand accounts of fieldwork experiences of violence. The examples range across Latin America, Asia, the Middle East and Africa, and illustrate instances of state terror, insurgency, communal violence, war, prison violence, class conflict, security measures and sexual violence.
Allow this favorite library to be seen by others Keep this favorite library private. Find a copy in the library Finding libraries that hold this item Parvis Ghassem-Fachandi Find more information about: Violence takes many forms. This title offers readers a broad anthropological study of violence through personal encounters. Publisher Synopsis Compelling, riveting reading that will prove important to researchers. User-contributed reviews Add a review and share your thoughts with other readers.
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