5 Lessons Traveling and Working in Africa Taught Me About Being a White American

This post is inspired by this very insightful essay—and to clarify, since Africa is not a country, I have traveled/worked in Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Mali, Mauritius, Kenya, Zambia, and now Malawi. Most of my experience is from West Africa, and I’m married to a Nigerian, which maybe counts for something ;) However, I’m still learning about the amazing diversity of people, culture, experiences, and challenges that Africa faces, so I welcome comments on the thoughts below by any of my African friends and family members. I am primarily addressing my fellow white Americans here.

1. We Americans are incredibly ignorant about the history and geography of a part of the world that has direct linkages with our own. Those of you educated in the U.S.: how many of you have heard of the Songhai empire? The Mossi empire? Or the Yoruba, or Mali empires (etc; you get the point)? I certainly hadn’t until I started working in, and researching, West Africa, although I took ‘World History’ in high school. As far as I can tell, ‘World History’ was essentially European history, with a few pages on China, India, and Egypt, respectively. Yet 13% of our population in the U.S. has ancestral ties to West Africa. Why aren’t we learning about the impressive political, social, religious, agronomic, and cultural systems that developed in West Africa in some cases before Western Europe was fully out of the dark ages? (Southern Africa has similar historical kingdoms; I just learned about the Maravi empire which controlled Malawi, Mozambique and eastern Zambia from the 1400’s until the 1600’s). I am angry and frustrated about this lack of education, because by emphasizing European accomplishments and ignoring or erasing African ones, we subtly perpetuate the myth of white superiority in the U.S.
2. Americans owe a great cultural debt to Africa. After spending some time in West Africa, it quickly became clear to me that, as much as the American slavery system tried to stamp out African culture in the New World, that effort was not successful. West African influences have infiltrated, and vastly improved, our cuisine, our music, and our culture in the U.S. in myriad ways, through African-American traditions. Classic Cajun dishes (jambalaya, gumbo) are essentially West African jollof rice and okra stew, respectively. Nearly every genre of music which has originated in the U.S. (jazz, blues, rock and roll, funk, hip hop, etc.) draws on African rhythms and musical conventions. And, if you have ever seen either a classic or contemporary West African dance performance, you know that Miley Cyrus did not invent twerking.
3. Countries with Black people in charge work just fine, thank you. Of course African countries, like any other countries, have their issues and challenges. But I think it is fantastic for a white person raised in a racist culture—which, yes, is anyone who grew up in the U.S. unless you were in a commune totally shielded from media or the public—to experience a society in which you are the minority and all of the doctors, lawyers, scientists, political leaders, corporate executives, etc. look different from you. This has given me as a white American a tiny taste of what it might be like to navigate the U.S. as a minority. It has also helped me to defeat the subconscious stereotypes that worm their way into our minds in a racist society about what a professional ‘should’ look like, or who ‘can’ or cannot do a certain job.
4. Speaking of which, racial dynamics in the U.S. are seriously messed up, still. To be clear, what I mean is that racism is alive and well in the U.S. (case in point: Ferguson), and that it continues to harm our society and distort relationships between Black and White Americans. This is not to say that progress has not been made and that there aren’t wonderful examples of people collaborating and enjoying friendships across racial boundaries. But working and traveling in African countries that haven’t experienced the racial dynamics we have just emphasizes to me how much this made-up notion of ‘race’ and how it determines whom is more worthy of respect, attention, assistance, and compassion has cast a sickly pall over our country. This has caused me great distress, but also helped me to see a glimpse of what a non-racist society might look like, and for that I thank my experiences in Africa.
5. We have a lot to learn from Africans. Despite the West’s favored portrayals of Africa as a continent full of poor people sitting in the dirt waiting for white people to come help them, the truth is that this is a dynamic, vibrant, ingenious continent that can teach us a thing or two. For example, the U.S. is not ‘number one’ when it comes to women in congress/parliament—Rwanda is. Also, Africa has had two female heads of state—Joyce Banda of Malawi and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia (how many have we had? Oh…yeah…that’s right)—yet we are supposed to advise Africans on gender issues! Not to deny the serious issues many African women face, but maybe we should at least approach these interactions with a little more humility. I also think that African societies are hands-down better than we are at caring for families with young children and the elderly. From my observations, Africans are getting solar electricity to the poor at a much faster rate than we are (you can buy a solar panel in the market in Mali, ready to hook up to your radio/fridge/T.V. Can you do that in the U.S.?). Africans invented a mobile phone banking system (m-pesa, from Kenya) that is admired around the world. The best way for us to interact with Africans—as with any human being—is with respect, friendship, and partnership. I’m not claiming that I’ve been perfect at overcoming my own cultural biases and prejudices, and I still have a lot to learn, but when I’ve tried to embody these values I’ve found it incredibly rewarding. It keeps me coming back to Africa.

I’m not neutral and I’m not sorry

After the disturbing and disheartening events that have taken place in Ferguson following Michael Brown’s death over the past few weeks, many insightful and important pieces have been written about racism in the United States today, particularly as it pertains to law enforcement and the criminal justice system. I want to use this post to approach the issue from a slightly different angle, which hopefully will give those of us with privilege (in this case, white people) an idea of how to stand in solidarity with the angry and grieving people of Ferguson.

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One of the tactics I’ve observed those in positions of power using to continue to get their way at the expense of the relatively powerless and marginalized is the pretense of ‘objectivity’ and ‘fairness’. Because the narratives and interests of the powerful have been favored in the construction of our social, political and economic systems, the illusion of ‘fairness’ can in fact cover over a deeply unfair outcome. We see an example of this in the Michael Brown case. Many (white) people have been saying, ‘we don’t know this is about race! Let’s wait until all of the facts come out and the investigation is completed!’ But one of the Ferguson protestors’ demands is for an independent third-party investigation of the shooting and its aftermath, given serious doubts about the ability of the Ferguson police and prosecutor Bob McCulloch to conduct a ‘fair’ and ‘objective’ investigation. Letting ‘the process work’ would by default favor the powerful (the police)—which is why people interested in justice are trying to disrupt the process.

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During the year I spent in the Philippines after graduating from college, I encountered a radical Catholic doctrine known as ‘liberation theology’. I call it ‘radical’ because it was disavowed by more than one former pope, although the current pope appears to be more open to its teachings. Briefly, liberation theology posits that God has a ‘preferential option’ for the poor and the marginalized. Liberation theology has been transformational for me in understanding how people with racial, economic, and/or educational privilege like myself can contribute to a more just world (and liberation theology has been applied to the issue of race in the United States; see the writings of James Cone). Briefly, I’ve become firmly convinced that I cannot remain ‘neutral’ or ‘objective’ in a context of oppression, violence, and domination, either as a scientist, an academic, or a human being. To do so is, de facto, to side with the oppressors. While the circumstances of poor Filipinos being harrassed by a mining company and African-Americans being harrassed by the police have major differences, the nature of power structures that seek self-perpetuation at the expense of those with less power is remarkably similar all over the world.  I am committed to using my Ph.D., my expertise, my ability to travel, my money, the fact that people will ‘believe me’, or whatever other privileges I have, to stand on the side of the poor and marginalized, both in this country and abroad.

Simple to say—of course, very challenging to do. One has to avoid, on the one hand, adopting a ‘white savior’ mentality by speaking for instead of with marginalized people, and on the other, subscribing to a sort of ‘the noble, suffering poor’ mindset in which poor or marginalized people are saints and everything they say or do is correct. The poor and disenfranchised aren’t always right. But because they have been ignored throughout history and their narratives have been discounted in favor of the narratives of the powerful, I would argue that one should disproportionately listen to them. When I was in the Philippines, the tales of human rights and environmental abuses on the part of the U.S. and Philippine governments and multi-national corporations from my friends working on the ground at first seemed fantastical to my naïve and sheltered ears. But the more I investigated these claims (and I dedicated a Ph.D. to doing so), the more I saw that they were correct. If I had dismissed their complaints out of hand in favor of the ‘we’re helping Filipinos!’ narrative that the powerful interests promote, I would never have seen the ‘truth’ or the ‘facts’. Far from being objective, I would have been firmly biased in favor of the powerful.

And, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that standing on the side of the poor and marginalized is likely to come with a price. The powerful don’t like it very much. I’ve been yelled at; accused of wanting the poor to starve for questioning some of the outcomes of the Green Revolution; and threatened with personal and professional failure. Of course, none of that comes remotely close to the suffering and sacrifice of those on the front lines of the struggle against injustice—many in the Philippines and in the United States have been tortured, lost their lives, their reputations, and their careers in the service of this struggle. But I have certainly felt pressure to stop asking certain questions or taking certain positions. To be honest, that’s one of the reasons I chose an academic career—academia, perhaps more so than any other sector, is fiercely protective of controversial research and independent viewpoints.

In conclusion, I stand with the citizens of Ferguson. I stand with Michael Brown. I stand with all African-Americans who have been abused, harassed, and killed by the police who are supposed to protect them. I’m not neutral, and I refuse to apologize for that. 

Debating 101: What Grandpa Taught Me

Hi all! I’m baaaack, after a lengthy hiatus occasioned by end-of-semester craziness, international travel, grant deadlines, and vacation. I hope you are all having a wonderful summer with a good balance of rest, reflection, and meaningful work.

Recently , I visited my grandparents in upstate New York. My grandpa is a highly accomplished scientist and a wonderful person, and he has had an enormous influence on my personal and professional development. One of the things I learned from him (as soon as I was old enough to have my own opinions which were distinct from those of my parents) was how to have a debate. If we have to use labels, I would say my grandfather is a conservative Republican, while I…am not. We’ve had many spirited discussions over the years on topics ranging from foreign policy to science to religion to environmental conservation. While I almost never changed my opinion as the direct result of talking to my grandpa, I always walked away from these discussions with what I now realize are the hallmarks of a ‘good’ debate experience: (1) I learned something; (2) I felt respected and listened to; (3) I considered perspectives on the topic I hadn’t previously thought about; and (4) I found some common ground despite our disagreements.

Looking back on my debate training in the Schmitt household, I now realize how unusual it was that we had so many healthy debates, in contrast to what I often see around me that passes for debate (i.e. people screaming insults at each other). The themes of this blog are diversity (in academia and elsewhere) and complex problem-solving. While we have established that a diversity of viewpoints is an asset for gaining new perspectives on problems, this is only true if we are able to listen to and productively engage with these viewpoints, including those that differ from our own. In honor of my grandfather therefore, here are my top ‘don’ts’ and ‘do’s’ for debating someone (because I want to end on a positive note).

Don’t name-call. It may seem that this doesn’t even have to be said, but judging from the state of my Facebook and Twitter feeds, and what passes for debate on cable news (see above), it absolutely does. Variants of name-calling include dismissing someone else’s sincerely held belief through sarcasm or caricature, or questioning the integrity of someone who disagrees with you.

Don’t ‘man-splain’. The essence of this concept is, ‘condescendingly explaining something to someone who has more experience with/knows more about the topic than you do’. Of course this doesn’t mean that you can’t have an opinion on something you haven’t directly experienced, but it does mean you should be humble and respectful and realize you don’t know everything! My grandfather always listened to my experiences with respect and took me seriously, and I tried to do the same for him.

Don’t be afraid to change your mind. While it’s unlikely that a single conversation or debate will change your long-held belief on a topic, a good debate should help you to learn something. When we learn, we update our ‘mental models’ of the way the world works. I have great admiration for people who are honest, humble and courageous enough to admit they have changed their minds on a topic as the result of new information. My grandpa eventually came to accept the science behind anthropogenic global warming, despite initial skepticism, and I respect him greatly for that.

Do acknowledge that your experiences affect your beliefs and worldview, just as they do others’. Eventually, this is the conclusion I drew from the fact that my grandpa and I, both (I would like to think!) intelligent and informed individuals, could think so differently about the world. Our experiences of the world have been fundamentally very different, and that affects the ways in which we interpret new information and form conclusions. That is not right or wrong, good or bad—it’s just part of being human. One of the things that drives me bonkers is when someone insists that my view is subjective and biased, but their view is totally objective and unbiased. People who say things like this are not very humble or self-reflective.

Do consider credible information that challenges your beliefs and opinions. It helps to know that humans in general are very bad at this—we all suffer from what experts call ‘confirmation bias’, which means that we retain information that supports our previously-held beliefs and reject information that contradicts them. But if we are honest and self-reflective enough, we know that in most cases complex issues have multiple nuances, and different sources of information can shed light on those nuances, including some which are anathema to us. If I’m debating someone, and they are providing information that seems to be credible (e.g. peer-reviewed research; data from a neutral source---not ‘I read a blog once that said…’), but makes me feel uncomfortable, that is often a sign that it’s contradicting one of my beliefs. At that point, I try to stop my knee-jerk reaction to ignore the information and rather make a mental note of the source, so that I can learn more about it after the debate. Maybe it will help me to update my worldview!

Do try to find common ground. If you’re just debating for the sake of fun/intellectual exercise, this may not be necessary. If, on the other hand, you are trying to actually solve a problem, it’s essential. A wise faculty member at my university who has served as a facilitator/moderator during negotiations between the Auto Workers and the auto manufacturers taught me this about conflict resolution: If you stick to an ideological position, you’re in deadlock with your ‘opponent’. If you move towards talking about values, and what aspects a solution would have to have in order for you to feel comfortable with it, you might find surprising new options that satisfy both parties. Maybe Congress could try more of this??

All of that said—feel free to debate me on this or any other topic. Just be aware, I’m kind of great at debating—I learned from the best! Thanks, Grandpa.

Mental Health in Academia

This past week noted two tragic deaths, united by a common, deadly disease. Early Tuesday morning, the body of a woman in her 30s was found on the sidewalk of our street a few doors down from my house—she had apparently ended her own life. Fashion designer L’Wren Scott, age 49, also took her own life last Monday. One woman, alone and unknown except by her family and friends; the other, a wealthy, accomplished international figure with a famous rock-star boyfriend. If this doesn’t exemplify the universal nature of depression and its deadly effects, I don’t know what does.

We don’t often talk about mental health in academia, but probably we should. According to a recent article, the majority of graduate students report feeling depressed, anxious, or overwhelmed at some point during their graduate careers. Twenty-seven percent of them seek support from mental health services on campus. One in ten of them contemplate suicide. While mental health issues certainly have a physiological component, they can be exacerbated by stress and isolation, two conditions which graduate school serves up in abundance.

Yet, the case studies mentioned in the article suggest that most of these graduate students are afraid to discuss their mental health situation with their advising professor or department chair. While the stigma associated with mental health issues is arguably less than it was in our parents’ generation, for example, it can still be considerable—and can prevent students from getting the help and support they need to navigate their responsibilities while preserving their health and safety. For that matter, it is likely that many faculty and staff at colleges and universities are dealing with their own mental health conditions, which they may be reluctant to share with their colleagues or supervisors for fear of the same stigma.

For example: when you hear the term, ‘mentally ill’, what is the first image that comes to mind? Is it a homeless person? Or a Yale law school graduate and chaired professor of law and psychiatry? Professor Elyn Saks provides an example of the latter. Watch the video at the link; it is inspiring and insightful. Note that Professor Saks, who is living with schizophrenia, lists three things as contributing to her ability to lead a happy and fulfilling professional life. The first is high-quality treatment, medication and psychiatric care—which our campus services should be providing to all of our faculty, staff, and students. The second is a supportive and loving network of family and friends who understand her condition and help her to navigate its symptoms. The third is a supportive work environment. We should take note of this last point: how can we support our colleagues and students with mental illness (whether depression, anxiety, PTSD, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, addiction, etc.) unless we are able to discuss it openly and honestly, without stigma?

I would like to make a final distinction here about supporting faculty and students who are living with mental health issues. This may sound as if doing so is for their sake, in order to cater to people who otherwise wouldn’t be able to ‘make it’ in academia—perhaps so that we don’t get sued for discrimination. Absolutely not! The contributions of people with diverse mental health conditions improve our academic inquiry. Look at Professor Saks’ example: the personal experience she had being restrained in a psychiatric hospital led her to pursue a line of legal research around how physical restraints are used. This work has the potential to improve thousands of peoples’ mental health care, and to save lives (as one to three people die while being restrained in the U.S. every week). Without Professor Saks’ unique experience and contributions, this research may not have been seen as important, let alone conducted. As I’ve argued on this blog before, diversity makes academia a better place, and improves our mission to conduct research that makes the world a better place in which to live.

So, to our colleagues and students living with mental illness: we support you, and we need you. Let us know how we can better help you to thrive. I think we all have a responsibility to educate ourselves about mental health and the resources available to help those living with mental health conditions (for example: do we know where our campus counseling services are located? Or the symptoms of depression, so that we might recognize them in our students? I confess that I need to learn more about this). Finally, to graduate students struggling with mental health challenges: please be aware that you are not alone, and reach out to someone who will be helpful and sympathetic. If your major advisor can’t fill this role, find another professor, peer, or mentor who can. No degree or career is worth the sacrifice of your health, including your mental health. Make taking care of yourself a top priority, and surround yourself with people who will support that priority.

My beef with food reform

A few years ago, Michael Pollan came to our campus and I got a ticket to hear him speak. I, like millions of others around the world, had been very impressed by the journalism and quality of writing he had applied to the problems with the American food system in his book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma. He is one of the key figures credited with pointing out that the ways in which we produce, process, and consume food in this country are unhealthy for people and for the environment.

After being introduced, Pollan walked onto the stage with a bag from Meijer, our regional grocery/superstore chain. I sometimes shop at Meijer, and many of my friends, colleagues and neighbors shop at Meijer—it’s one of the big names in our small Midwestern city.  

Pollan began pulling groceries out of the bag, and it quickly became clear that his intent was to use these items to mock the American food system. As I recall, the first thing he pulled out was some type of frozen breakfast that combined waffles, sausage and maybe egg in the same dish. Fair enough; the entire audience seemed to agree that it looked disgusting and un-natural. The next thing he pulled out was a tub of vanilla ice cream. Pollan pointed out that one of the recommendations he had made in his new book, In Defense of Food, was that people not buy foods with more than five ingredients. This particular ice cream brand marketed itself explicitly as having only five ingredients, and Pollan didn’t like that. At this point, I became a bit confused. This company is trying to make a less processed and more wholesome product, I thought. Isn’t that good? By the time Pollan was griping about an apple he had purchased at Meijer, I was fed up.

This sounds like a take-down of Pollan, but as I mentioned at the beginning, I still admire his journalism on the American food system. Rather, his demonstration symbolizes my problem with the movement to reform the way Americans eat, of which he is certainly not the only representative. We have started with an insightful systems analysis, which points out the ways in which U.S. agricultural and dietary policy, economic incentives, urban planning, and even school system design—as well as individual consumer choices—together produce unhealthy outcomes for people and the environment. We have then distilled that analysis to a highly individualized approach to fixing the food system that places the burden of this enormous task on individual families.

Specifically, on women. Because women still do approximately twice the amount of household cooking that men do, despite most of us now also working outside the home. It boggles my mind that this is an aspect of the food system that is almost never mentioned in talks about food reform.

To be honest, I didn’t fully understand the weight of this burden until I married, had a child, and began a 60+-hour a week job. Before these life transformations, I was just as likely as some of the most self-righteous foodies to wonder why people ‘don’t cook anymore’ in the U.S., and to think that it’s a matter of ‘education’. I agreed that there is no reason why we shouldn’t all be growing our own vegetables and cooking meals from scratch every night.

Then I confronted the reality of getting home at 6 p.m. after an exhausting day of meetings, teaching, and grading, finding the refrigerator empty, and having to contemplate dinner with a bawling toddler clinging to my leg. Pizza or takeout win out. Yes, you can use a slow cooker—if you have time in the morning to chop vegetables before rushing everyone out of the door. Yes, you can make a quick stirfry—if you have the ingredients on hand because you’ve been able to go to the grocery store in between getting home from a weekend conference and preparing for the work week. Yes, you can cook on the weekend—if you haven’t been at a conference. Yes, you can have your husband cook—if he’s not also out of town, or grinding away at a deadline.

My point is, if I, as an over-educated, relatively well-off consumer who cares about the environment and her family’s health find it hard to cook and eat well in the U.S., how much harder must it be for those who don’t have the privileges I have? We need to spread the burden for healthier food systems from individual families to the system itself. We need to make fresh, healthy food the default setting in the U.S., as it is in parts of Europe and Asia. The proliferation of farmers’ markets, food trucks, and the attempts of some grocery stores to stock local produce and healthy meal ingredients, are a great start. So is the support for more sustainable agriculture written into the most recent version of the Farm Bill (although not the cuts to food assistance programs). Urban agriculture is also great, although it may not be a reality for all families to participate.

So there are many good things being done, but here are some things I would like to see more of:

     1)  Men in the kitchen. And by that, I mean men taking responsibility for planning, shopping          for, and preparing healthy meals on weeknights, not just special occasions.

     2) More diverse voices in the food reform movement, particularly the voices of mothers—

     mothers working outside the home, poor mothers, and farming mothers.

     3) More healthy fast meal options (maybe food trucks can help here). Why are all of our fast  food options in the U.S. terribly unhealthy?

Finally, we need a more systemic approach to dealing with the problems of the American food system. Pollan was among the first prominent voices for this type of approach. As I’ve tried to point out above, changing the way we eat may involve changing the way we commute, work, live, and design our communities. A daunting task, to be sure—but so is making dinner some days.

Climbing down from the Ivory Tower

Last week, Nicholas Kristof wrote a column in the New York Times lamenting the absence of University professors from practical policy debates. I agree with just about everything he wrote. Subsequently, a number of University-based scholars and scientists pointed out that (1) a lot of professors are trying to be more involved in real-world problem solving; and (2) there are powerful institutional constraints keeping faculty from getting involved in policy discussions to which they could bring significant expertise. Both of these things are also true.

Rather than re-hash any of those arguments, which have been made by others, I thought I would discuss some ways in which I or my colleagues have tried to emerge from ivory tower-dom and engage with real world problems. Kristof mentions direct engagement with the public via social media in his column, but there are several other ways for academics to get involved. If you are not an academic scientist, it’s important to be aware that these types of efforts are going on; if you are an academic scientist, it’s an excellent idea to get involved with one of these efforts! Please keep in mind that my direct experience is primarily with environmental and sustainability science; this may not be reflective of the experience of those in the biomedical or physical sciences, or the humanities. Also, when I use the term ‘scientist’, I am referring to someone who has a Ph.D. in a scientific discipline, including the social sciences.

Here are some ways in which I have seen scientists engage with decision-makers and the public, in an attempt to bring their knowledge to bear on important problems:

1. Work with professional communicators. Let’s face it, not all of us scientists have the skills to communicate well in a non-academic setting—and perhaps this shouldn’t be expected of us. After all, we don’t expect professional writers or speakers to also be competent scientists. If you are fortunate to be at a large research university, as I am, you probably have a team of professional communicators working at your institution whose job it is to package the science you do into relevant reading for lay audiences, and to disseminate it to the public and to decision-makers. It is definitely a good idea to get to know these people. Some scientists also cultivate relationships with professional science writers for print or online publications.
2. Cultivate relationships with local or regional decision-makers. Not all important policy or management decisions are made at the national level. The actions of city councils, local planners, and state legislatures have enormous impact on environmental and social systems, for better or for worse. Many of my colleagues work closely with their neighborhood organizations, local elected officials, or state legislative leaders to provide scientific information that can help inform their decisions.
3. Work on synthesis or assessment documents. Periodically, national and state governments commission panels of scientists to summarize the state of the science around a given issue so that it can inform their decisions. Examples of these types of processes include the IPCC reports (at the international level), and the National Climate Assessments (at the national level). Many other reports are authored at the state level as well. The explicit goals of these assessments are to bring science to bear on policy, and they are written in accessible language, without disciplinary jargon.
4. Do engaged research. Engaged research posits scientific knowledge as something that is co-created between scientists and stakeholders or other decision-makers. In other words, people who have a real-world problem to solve work with scientists to define the research question, design a study or model to address it, and work through the process of hypothesis testing together. This can be an enormously powerful tool for generating knowledge that is scientifically sound and also relevant to the needs of decision-makers. Engaged research methods are used in a broad range of the natural and social sciences, and are a proud tradition at Land Grant institutions, which were established by Congress to conduct research that benefits the public.
5. Leave academia. Some top-notch scientists feel that academia is too far removed from real-world problem solving, and they join nonprofit organizations or the public sector. In these positions, they may be more free to advocate for particular ideological positions about which they feel strongly (the non-profit sector), or have the chance to influence how important policies or management actions are carried out (the public sector). Of course there are trade-offs—scientists who leave academia may sacrifice some of the significant intellectual freedom that the University affords.

I should point out, as some of my fellow academics did in responding to Kristof, that not a single one of these efforts would ‘count’ towards tenure and promotion in most research universities. Doing any one of these things wouldn’t necessarily count against you—unless you did them at the expense of generating peer-reviewed publications and grant proposals. In other words, if you want to engage with the real world, you have to do it on your own time (or get smart about integrating these efforts with your publishable research—that’s why I like option 4 above).

Also: the lack of scientific relevance for policy decisions in the U.S. is a complex systems problem involving (at least) academia, the media, the educational system, and the policy process. Reforms are needed in all of these sectors if we want to increase the relevance of science to real-world problems. 

Five books that had an impact on me in 2013

I don’t have as much time as I would like to read things unrelated to my job, so I tend to ‘binge read’ on vacations and plane trips, finishing a few books in a week and then not finishing more than one chapter in the following month!

I wanted to share with you some books that had a profound impact on me in 2013. By ‘impact’, I mean that I was still thinking about them days, weeks, or even months later. If you haven’t picked these up yet, I highly recommend them! Please share your own reading lists with me also.

1. Radioactive, by Lauren Redniss. This book hit my sweet spot—science, romance, rebellion, philandering, feminism—it’s all in there! Anyone who thinks that science is boring stuff done by old white dudes in lab coats should take a look at this gorgeously illustrated graphic novel about Marie and Pierre Curie. Marie Curie has been one of my heroes since childhood, and after reading this book I had even more admiration for both her and her husband Pierre, who formed a completely equal scientific and life partnership back in the days when women weren’t even admitted to graduate programs. Also, the author dug into historical archives and family papers and produced some love letters between the two and some journal entries Marie wrote shortly after the untimely death of her husband. Those wrecked me, I will admit (there were tears). A great choice for Valentines’ Day!
2. Behind the Beautiful Forevers, by Katherine Boo. I’m going to be honest here—a lot of the books on poverty and poor people written by the non-poor leave a lot to be desired. Sometimes they romanticize poor people (“they have nothing, but they’re so happy!” I always have to grit my teeth when I hear people say that. If you had to live in a house on top of a garbage dump and see your young children die of preventable diseases, trust me, you would not be happy). Or, they portray poor people as tragic victims without agency. Katherine Boo does neither. She weaves such a nuanced, sensitive and unflinching picture of life in a Mumbai slum that it left me thinking about the various characters long after I put down the book. She is also a masterful storyteller. This is a great example of how anthropological research could, and should, be done.
3. Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Forget ‘African novelist’, Adichie is one of the best novelists living today, IMHO. This book had some flaws, but overall it was an extremely insightful commentary on race and class in the modern U.S., mixed with a touching love story and a compelling narrative of the immigrant experience. I’d say it’s my favorite ‘coming to America’ story, together with Carlos Bulosan’s America is in the Heart and Lost in Translation by Eva Hoffman. Also, check out Adichie’s TED talks, ‘The Danger of a Single Story’, and ‘We Should all be Feminists’. Yes, I know we have all reached peak TED-talk, but trust me—she’s a great oral storyteller in addition to being a talented writer.
4. Tenth of December, by George Saunders. I found out about George Saunders when I took a creative writing course in college with people who were much cooler than me, and one of our assigned readings was his short story collection, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline. Apparently knowing about him makes me hip, because he is referred to as a ‘writers’ writer’. Whatever that means. Anyway, I love his work. I’m not big on the anti-hero as central character embraced by much of modern fiction, but I absolutely love Saunders’ main characters. They are deeply flawed people, trapped in a dystopic future, who somehow are inspired and empowered to be braver, more kind, and more selfless than they ever thought they could be. Often, they pay a high price as a result. I wasn’t surprised when I read Saunders’ speech to Syracuse University graduates advising them to, above all, be kind, because only a man with such a heart could write as he does. Bonus: these are short stories, so you can finish one in between putting the kid(s) to bed and nodding off yourself!
5. Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead, by Sheryl Sandberg. What could I write about this book that hasn’t already been written? Whether you loved it, or loved to hate it, no one can deny that it started a national conversation that was long overdue. Namely, where my ladies at (in positions of leadership)?

…And one book I’ve enjoyed so far in 2014:

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. This was a recommendation from my aunt (thanks, Aunt Linda!). As a strong introvert, this book was so validating for me. One of the things I really loved about it is that, while acknowledging that American society is often unfriendly to introverts while promoting extroversion, Cain doesn’t flip the tables and bash extroverts. She points out that society, institutions, and families benefit when people with both personality types respect one another and are able to work together, as they have different strengths and weaknesses. I especially liked the tips for extroverted parents of introverted children, and pointers for how bosses and teachers can encourage contributions from both extroverts and introverts in the classroom or job setting. If you are an introvert, or have one in your life (which is highly likely, given that we are one-third to one-half of the population), you should pick up this entertaining and readable book. 

The Most Important Person in the Room

Happy New Year! I hope you are all having a peaceful and prosperous 2014, and that you are thawing out from the Polar Vortex (if you are in the U.S. outside of California or Hawaii). My husband has encouraged me to continue this blog in the new year, possibly so that he is not the only recipient of my rambling reflections. So, please enjoy and add your reactions in the comments!

In December, I traveled to West Africa with my family to facilitate two planning workshops in western Burkina Faso and northern Nigeria. The purpose of the workshops was to envision different future development trajectories for dryland West African agricultural systems, and the organizers did a really good job of involving diverse participants. At the workshop in Kano, northern Nigeria, two of the participants were women from local farming organizations. They didn’t speak English, and had only a grade school education. These ladies, in a ‘round robin’ reflection on the first day, expressed astonishment that their accommodations and food were ‘nicer’ than they ever thought they would have the chance to experience. They were usually quiet during large group discussions, but participated in the small group discussions with the assistance of translators.

On the first day of the workshop, mid-morning, the minister of agriculture for the state (interestingly, the first woman to hold this post) was ‘announced’. She swept in to the room and planted herself at the table in the middle of the circle of chairs (which was not there for anyone to sit at; we simply hadn’t found a place to put it against the wall in the small room), and read a prepared speech. Afterwards, I led the group in an exercise designed to stimulate conversation. The premise of this exercise is that participants stand in one corner of the room if they agree with a statement which I read out loud, and in the opposite corner if they disagree. The presence of the minister disrupted this exercise, because the crowd watched to see where she placed herself and followed accordingly. The lone dissenters were foreign scientists who didn’t have much stake in the regional minister’s opinions. Fortunately, she didn’t stay very long, because she had other events to attend.

Now, I don’t mean to criticize the minister; my colleagues told me that she was quite supportive of agricultural development initiatives and sympathetic to the needs of her constituents. I’m just using these two women—the poor farmers and the minister—to exemplify the power dynamics inherent in any group process. As my career has moved into group process facilitation, I have become much more aware of, and sensitive to, these dynamics. To whom do we listen? Whose opinion counts? Who takes up the space in the room (both literally and metaphorically)?

And lest you think that this phenomenon is unique to Nigeria, admittedly a very hierarchical society where rank and status count for a lot, let me correct you. Yesterday, I was at a meeting at my home institution when our provost entered. I made a conscious effort to pay attention to how she was received, compared to other meeting participants. People gave her their rapt attention. When asking questions or giving comments after her speech, people spoke in very deferential tones, nodding vigorously whenever she made a point.

Again, I am not saying this to criticize our provost, whom I respect. And I’m not suggesting that we yawn, roll our eyes, or check our email when the provost is speaking—after all, that would be rude. But how many ‘less important’ people—like poor female farmers, for example—do we feel free to treat in exactly this manner? Numerous studies have documented the ways in which we sub-consciously identify the most powerful person in a given situation and defer to them through our body language, mannerisms, and means of address. Even if you consider yourself a very egalitarian and democratically-minded person, you probably do this.

My research is related to agricultural development, poverty alleviation, and environmental conservation, and any insights I can derive from this work are critically dependent on the perspectives and knowledge of the people who live and work in developing world smallholder systems. So I’m not just paying lip service to the Christian notion that ‘the first will be last and the last first’—like many so-called ‘spiritual’ realities, this plays out practically in the world as well. Let me give an example: a colleague told me that last year, several prominent faculty from our institution traveled to Seattle to pitch some grant ideas to the Gates Foundation. Midway through their prepared slides, Melinda Gates interrupted them to ask about the role of gender in the ideas they were presenting. Essentially, the lady holding the purse strings was telling them that the only way they would get X million dollars was by listening to and incorporating the voices of poor female farmers!

So the voices of poor smallholder farmers are just as important as the voices of the agricultural ministers. However, because we prioritize the voices of ministers over farmers, we should actively be seeking to encourage, highlight and promote the voices of those we don’t typically consider important. Also, as academics, we need to be aware that we often take up far more than our fair share of space in any discussion or process. We love to hear ourselves talk, but sometimes we need to shut up and listen. Tom Dietz, a sociologist and champion of scientists serving the public, puts it this way: we must be the ‘guide on the side’, not the ‘sage on the stage’.

So now my facilitation mantra is the following: before I begin the first day of a workshop, I repeat silently to myself, “I am the least important person in the room.” And I try to believe it.