The Blue Disc

by William B. Waits

  ….

  I’ve been at it an hour and there’s no easy solution. I’ve got to deal with the reality of my situation. The discipline of anthropology is a social science and Jasovic is outspoken in characterizing it that way. One last look at my notes. It’s the best I can do for the time being. I’ve got to call Jasovic to let him know I’ve returned safely and that I need to report to the Committee. This is hard. I’ve got to force myself to dial the number.

  On the second ring, Jasovic picked up the phone. His distinctive voice resonated in Rick’s psyche, even after the long gap in time.

  “It’s good to hear from you, Rick. How did your time in the rain forest go?”

  “Generally, very well, Professor Jasovic. Only a few tough spots here and there.”

  Rick knew that Jasovic rightfully prided himself on the grueling research he’d done in the highlands of New Guinea thirty years before. He’d measure Rick’s fieldwork by that anthro-macho standard.

  “Some of it’s to be expected, of course. You’re in good health?”

  “Yes, my heath held up. My subject group knew a lot about herbal medicines and that helped.”

  “Sounds like good fortune in finding a group. In any regard, I am relieved to hear that you are alright. In the next week, you should go to the med school and have a complete examination to make sure you don’t have any hidden medical issues.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “I am, of course, very interested in your findings. I assume you plan on meeting with your Committee to discuss your research?”

  “Yes. I’d like to very much. I need two weeks to go through my notes and prepare my comments for the Committee, if you are agreeable.”

  “That’s fine. Fortunately, both Lasington and Jones are here in New Haven. I’ll have their schedules checked and finalize a time for your meeting. The department secretary will call you about it.”

  After he hung up, Rick resumed his hard thinking.

  I’ve been going through these notes for two hours now and my mind keeps returning to Euromamo privacy. Should I go forward with the dissertation despite what it means for my friends in the rain forest? Although the question is lurking in my mind, I can’t let myself get hung up on it. I’ve got to go through all my notes and be prepared to defend my research because I may go forward with my dissertation like the department expects me to. Discipline.

  ….

  The two weeks flew by. Fortunately, I’d made an index to my notes while I was in the rain forest so I could access my research, just as Jones recommended. Each keystroke of my typewriter’s been music to my ears. It’s the noise of progress in preparing for the Committee. Although I plead guilty to taking an occasional break to chat with other graduate students in the house, I’ve had no lengthy conversations. I just couldn’t spare the time. Most nights, after having worked hard all day, I coaxed my brain to put a few more words on a blank page or coaxed it to edit and organize my thoughts better. My rule has been to stay at it until my brain could do no more. It’s the most intense time pressure I’ve been under during graduate school. However, after careful attention to the clock, at the end of these two weeks, I’m as prepared as I could hope to be. That’s a nice stack of pages next to my typewriter. Too much to discuss everything with my Committee, but I want to be ready to discuss any part of my research they ask about. I also typed out a few thoughts on Euromamo privacy as they popped into my head and put them in a separate pile.

  CHAPTER 36

  The Committee Revisited

  Rick awoke readily on the day of his committee meeting. His adrenaline was already at work.

  No time to prepare further. Pack for the meeting. Two o’clock. I’ve been checking my watch like a nervous tick, but I can’t be late for the most important meeting of my life. Be calm, for Easter Bunny’s sake. All I can do is try my best and let the chips fall where they may.

  I’ve been absorbed in preparing for the meeting, but I can’t get Euromamo privacy out of my mind. Can I finagle something? If I suggest an alternative approach to my dissertation, it’ll have to be damn good, that’s for sure. Even then, there’s not much chance of their bending. The committee and the department have clear ideas about what dissertations should contain and I’ve never heard of an exception. Nothing I’ve come up with gives me much hope.

  My notes and field journals are in my book bag. I’ll stick my privacy disc in there, too. I hope it doesn’t get broken. Time to walk over.

  Jasovic emerged from his office to greet him.

  “How are you, Rick? It’s good to see you,” he said warmly.

  “Fine, thank you, Professor. It’s good to be back.”

  “Come into my office. Lasington and Jones are here. We’re interested in the research you brought back.”

  The two senior professors were seated in chairs in front of Jasovic’s desk. They smiled and extended handshakes.

  “Welcome back,” said Lasington quietly.

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  Rick seated himself in the unoccupied chair between Jones and Lasington and placed his book bag next to his chair.

  “How did the rain forest treat you?” asked Jasovic.

  “The field experience was great. It was everything I hoped it would be.”

  “You went into a tough environment. Your health held up?”

  “The exam at the hospital last week didn’t find anything wrong, although I’m still waiting for the last test results.”

  “Good so far, then. I trust that your subject group inspired thoroughness in your research and creativity in your analysis. What did you learn from them?”

  “I learned a lot and much of it surprised me. It took me a while to understand and fully appreciate the central value of their society, the value that allows them to persist.”

  “You were conscientious in your note-taking, I trust,” asked Jones.

  “Yes. I usually made notes of my observations throughout the day but, when I couldn’t, I made them before I went to bed or first thing the next day, as you suggested.”

  “Bound journals?” asked Jones.

  Jones had been right about the bound field journals. Nothing else would have held together.

  “Yes. I brought my field journals for you to see. Let me show you.”

  Rick removed his field journals from the book bag and stacked them on Jasovic’s desk. They were tattered around the edges and showed other wear from field use.

  “Good bulk,” mumbled Jones as he looked at the stack.

  “It would help us if you recount how you began your research,” Lasington suggested.

  “I found my subject group early on and formed good relationships, starting with the leaders and working down from there, just as you recommended in your seminar on Field Methods, Professor Jones,” said Rick, turning to Jones on his right.

  Some ass-kissing never hurt, especially with Jones.

  “You researched the topics in the Human Relations Area File Guide?” asked Jasovic.

  “Yes, I covered all of them,” he said, removing the HRAF guide from his book bag and opening it to the Table of Contents. “You can see where I checked off each topic as I completed it.”

  “Odd way you make your check marks, Mr. Johnson, with the tails to the left rather than to the right,” said Jones with surprising seriousness.

  “I’m left-handed so it seems more natural to do it that way,” replied Rick sheepishly.

  Jones was unmoved and scowled.

  “My God, Phil, if it bothers you, look at them in a mirror,” said Lasington in a show of support that Rick appreciated. “Did you analyze their social organization?” Lasington continued, inquiring about his area of interest.

  “I did that at the beginning of my research. It gave me a solid foundation for understanding the society. I’d have missed a lot if I hadn’t done that.”

  Rick knew he’d said what Lasington wanted to hear. Sure, it was ass-kissing but, during his fieldwork, he understood firsthand t
he importance of social organization and why Lasington and other British social anthropologists emphasized it.

  “What topics did your research lead you to?” asked Jones.

  “I let the concerns of my group determine the direction and focus of my work, not my own areas of interest. My group is concerned with a variety of topics, such as religion, trade relations with surrounding groups, warfare, medicine, and increasing the wealth of their society. However, their central concern is privacy, more specifically, preserving their way of life free from outside encroachment. They want to pick and choose from other groups what they will incorporate and when they will do so.”

  “Are they isolationist?” asked Lasington.

  “No, they aren’t. They maintain ongoing relationships with neighboring groups and travel quite a bit. However, they wish to have control over whether they adopt new elements, especially from the outside the rain forest.”

  “They’re particular, it seems,” asked Jones.

  “Very particular. Importantly, they don’t want anyone outside the rain forest to know about them. As I worked among them, I came to understand why they place such importance on their privacy and on controlling their contact with outside society. It’s essential to their way of life. Without privacy, they’d have a very different society, and I don’t think for the better.”

  “Well, irrespective of their wishes, your job, obviously, is to help those of us outside the rain forest to know and understand them,” said Jasovic. “They knew, I assume, that you’re an anthropologist?”

  “Yes, I told them at the beginning. Throughout my stay, my research was a matter of great concern to them, and for good reason.”

  “I wouldn’t worry much about it,” said Jasovic with a dismissive shrug. “A lot of native groups have gone through what they’ll experience. Researching and writing about remote, technologically primitive groups, and describing them to our fellow social scientists is what we do as anthropologists.”

  “This group has some special characteristics.”

  “Such as?” said Jasovic with his eyebrows slightly raised.

  “They’ve an unusual history and have created and preserved a remarkable society by carefully controlling their contacts. If their privacy were violated, there’s substantial risk they would be inundated by outside culture.”

  “A lot of groups have remarkable features,” said Lasington, in his characteristically kind voice. “What makes this group worthy of special consideration?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that in detail right now.”

  “What is this meeting for? I thought we were here to discuss your research on your group,” said Jones.

  “Let me tell you what I propose,” added Rick, feeling the scrutiny increase.

  “Please do,” said Jasovic with a touch of impatience.

  “I can write my dissertation as an environmental study, but I want to be circumspect about specifics of the group I lived with, for example, their name and their location. The work will be about the struggle of an urbanized American—me, of course—venturing deep into the rain forest and having to struggle against nature to stay alive. What skills from outside society did I bring to the task? How did those skills work in that challenging environment? How did I develop new skills that allowed me to survive?”

  “This sounds like a study of you,” said Jasovic. “Anthropologists study other people.”

  “It’s an environmental study. It’s about how I reacted to a very challenging natural environment. I studied all sorts of plants very carefully. I had to, otherwise I would have poisoned myself by my ignorance. But it wasn’t just plants. I had to learn about the animals in the rain forest, which ones are dangerous, of course, but also which ones are edible and how to catch them.”

  “Many anthropologists have to make those adjustments when they go into primitive environments. Is there anything new about your approach?” asked Lasington.

  If Lasington had reservations, Rick knew he’d have difficulty persuading Jasovic and Jones.

  “Can’t you tell us more about the groups you encountered, especially the one that you lived with?” asked Lasington. “That’s what we sent you to do.”

  “I’d love to tell you. What I learned about them is certainly intriguing but that’s the problem. If it were divulged, anthropologists and others from outside society, might develop an interest in them that would destroy their way of life.”

  “If they’re unusual, that’s all the more reason we need to hear what you have to say about them,” said Jones, sternly.

  “Shouldn’t we, as anthropologists, consider the harmful impacts we can have on subject groups?”

  “We study them and we report on them,” said Jasovic tersely. “We’re not here to shield them from analysis.”

  “How do you propose to address such traditional anthropological issues as social organization and belief systems?” asked Lasington, steering the discussion in a different direction.

  “I researched those topics thoroughly,” said Rick, pointing to the stack of field journals on the desk. “However, some traditional topics in anthropology wouldn’t be covered in the environmental study I am proposing. To make up for that, I plan to go into more detail about other issues than most anthropologists do, particularly ecological and subsistence issues.”

  Rick looked directly at Lasington as he made his point. The professor’s expression remained unchanged. Rick knew he had lost.

  “All of this would be without a thorough analysis of the group you lived with, your subject group?” asked Lasington, querulously.

  “That’s my proposal,” said Rick.

  “Did you meet any other groups during your time in the rain forest that you could write about?” asked Lasington.

  Rick appreciated that Lasington was trying to find a solution to his situation.

  “I encountered neighboring groups because my subject group visited them and hosted them; however, I wasn’t around them long enough to gather adequate data for a dissertation.”

  “What you’re proposing would be a very unusual dissertation,” said Lasington. “I don’t think it would satisfy the Department’s requirements.”

  “I agree,” said Jones.

  “I do, too. There is no ‘anthro’ in this anthropology,” said Jasovic. “I regret to tell you that we can’t approve your proposal. This is simply not what we had in mind.”

  “All the more disappointing given that you have apparently done the research that’s required for a dissertation,” said Lasington. “Doing the research is usually the hardest part.”

  “I recommend that you think once again about what you are giving up in your effort to protect the privacy of one group,” counseled Jasovic. “They’re surrounded by the rain forest. How’s their privacy at risk from your dissertation?”

  “This group is different,” said Rick, as he took a deep breath, his heart beating strongly in his chest. “I’ve made up my mind. I must protect their privacy; therefore, I can’t divulge specifics about them.”

  “Where do you go from here?” asked Lasington.

  “Given that I can’t proceed with the environmental study, I’ll write a novel based on my experiences in the rain forest because my group has valuable lessons to teach outside society. Of course, I’ll fictionalize their name and location so the outside world won’t know how to find them. That way, they can continue to control their contacts with outside society as they see fit.”

  “A novel!” said Jasovic. “This is the most unusual development I’ve ever encountered in a Graduate Committee meeting. You’re apparently intent on going your own way…with great repercussions for your future, I might add.”

  “I’m aware of that, Professor Jasovic. I’ve thought a lot about this after I understood their culture. The choice is difficult, but my conscience compels me to make it.”

  “A novel,” Jasovic muttered. “I can’t believe it. Literature is made-up stories without a factual basis. No one can prove or
disprove them. They’re a waste of time.”

  “I agree with you about literature, but it’s the only way I can tell the story of the group and preserve their privacy.”

  “What will happen to your research, these field notebooks that you filled at such personal risk? Will these be lost to social science?” asked Lasington.

  “No. I plan to place the originals in Sterling Library with the restriction that they not be made available until my subject group decides they’re ready to give up their privacy or they have their privacy breached by someone else. I’ve ways to get in touch with my group, so they’ll know what I do with my notes. In the next few weeks, I’ll set things up with the library.”

  “What notes will you use to inform your fiction? Are you going to use any facts or are you going to make it up entirely?” asked Jasovic, sneering.

  “Before I take my original notes to Sterling, I’ll copy them and work from the copies as I write. However, my writing won’t be fact-based social science. It’ll be fiction.”

  “What about your anthropological findings? Will you write them up in non-fiction form so your insights won’t be lost?” asked Lasington.

  “My first priority will be to write the novel but, after that is completed, I intend to write up my research findings from my notes. I’ll put it in Sterling with my sealed field notes.”

  “This is very unexpected…and sad,” said Lasington.

  “There’s only one item left,” said Rick.

  As he reached in his book bag, his hand felt the blue privacy disc that he’d packed as a reminder to himself. Next to the disc was a crisp envelope that he removed. Although he’d thought through his options carefully, his hand trembled slightly as he handed it to Jasovic.