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This chapter focuses on the entanglement between people within sites. Analysing evidence for specialized crafts in emporia, it asks why craftspeople went there, and how they contributed to make these places into hubs of particular social networks. It issues from the key observation that crafting activities in emporia were not only dependent on far-flung networks with other locations, but also on entangled webs of people and processes within the immediate community. The need for access to raw materials, opportunities for learning, markets and, perhaps more than anything, the need for collaboration between specialized artisans, was a decisive incentive for strangers to congregate at specific sites. Craft workers in emporia were dependent on these different elements to practise their trade. As a by-product, their work was able to bridge social relationships, which contributed to the social capital of an otherwise inconsistent community. Such interactions thus gave an unprecedented prominence to weak social ties in the intersections of roles and personhood in individuals, and, more broadly, at the level of the assemblage.
Within Hinduism, the notion of the pervasiveness of life is closely linked with the pervasiveness of divine presence. This chapter examines Hindu responses to the astrobiological notion of life as a planetary phenomenon by exploring some early scriptures, more recent environmental ethics, and contemporary ritual practices and conceptions associated with the worship of natural entities such as trees and stones.
Chapter 1 describes how we each become persons over time and through our relations with other people. This makes personhood fundamentally relational and interpersonal: we become who we are – with our tastes, talents and abilities – as a result of our interactions with the environment around us and the people in it. Moreover, this is a lifelong process. The idea that we are always in formative relations with the environment and other people is part of the concept of human vulnerability. Vulnerability can be understood as an expression of our belonging to the world with other people, and it is this belonging together in the human world that drives our capacities to care for one another. This is why skills in managing interpersonal relations and communication are central to the nursing role.
Domestication is not just something that humans impose on animals, but an ancient structure binding both creatures within shared systems of subjugation. Advancing trenchant new ideas, David Carr unpacks Genesis 1–11 to reveal ways in which embedded human–animal, gender, and group hierarchies constitute our world. Drawing on animal studies and Indigenous perspectives alike, he treats the Bible's origin stories as an invitation to rethink inter-species flourishing and re-imagine community based on intrinsic worth rather than mere utility. Tracing human rule over creation in Eden to slavery and concentrated human power at Babel, the author exposes an escalating trajectory of domination. Yet these foundational stories also suggest that global subjugation is not inevitable, but instead the consequence of a fall from an earlier relational, reciprocal mode of living. Here is a hopeful framework that recognizes this crisis while offering alternatives rooted in respectful relations and multispecies kinship.
Chapter 1 uses the picture of human creation to “rule” other creatures in Genesis 1 as an entry point for exploring how the category of “animal” most fundamentally identifies a nonhuman being that is a) exploitable if useful or b) expendable if not. At the same time, Genesis 1 provides an occasion to reflect on how agriculturally oriented humans created gods in their image, gods who exhibited both the power and the care of other beings characteristic of domesticators.
Chapter 2 looks at how the Genesis 1 and related domination-oriented onto-stories compare with accounts of domestication that emphasize co-evolution and mutuality of humans and animals. It places human domestication of animals within a broader picture of forms of inter-species relations, including mutualistic symbiosis, parasitic symbiosis, commensalism and mixed categories.
Chapter 8 contrasts ancient, more personal forms of domination (through kings, shepherds, masters) with more impersonal, digitally enabled forms of modern domination that organize work, life, and death on a planetary scale. Confronting the mass loss of wildlife and the industrial confinement of animals – and the possibility that humans may soon share that fate – this conclusion calls for collective action to cultivate more genuinely social forms of relation, knowledge, and spirituality that affirm the intrinsic worth of all beings rather than reducing life to utility.
This article introduces the special issue, “Indexing Persons.” In this introduction, we distinguish persona- and person-indexing registers. While the former refers to speech registers that enact social types of personhood, the latter denotes registers whose indexical value enacts and points to individuated entities (social “tokens”), such as biographical persons. In so doing, we engage with the anthropological literature on the person as a cultural category, taking two complementary perspectives: a “sign’s eye view” and a “subject’s ‘I’ view.” The first view follows sign activity to ask how semiosis indexically signifies persons, while the second centers the person and asks how their subjectivity is “made up” through semiosis. Through this discussion, we introduce the articles of the issue while reflecting on the complex dialectic between these different dimensions of enregisterment and their relationship to individuation and identity, subjectivity and personhood.
The Introduction examines the emergence of the psychopath, situating his literary, scientific, popular, and legal representations within a conceptual genealogy of monstrosity in order to frame the interanimating relationship between the form of persons and the form of novels. As a hitherto unrecognized extension of this genealogy, the psychopath marks the impact of a historically specific set of anxieties about white masculinity on more abstract conceptions of the human. The chapters of the book pair masculinity’s others – women, children, black men, queer men, and white men themselves – against a variety of mid-century representational debates about the novel.
In this article, we analyze Lacandon Maya communication with nonhuman persons (deities) residing in ancient Maya ruins in the lowlands of Chiapas, Mexico, and Petén, Guatemala. Through archaeological and ethnographic evidence, we examine ruined sites in the ritual landscape where Lacandon Maya have undertaken religious pilgrimages. We discuss Lacandon perceptions of ruins within the anthropological contexts of animism, pantheistic religions, and communicating places. Lacandon Maya consider materials and living things to be permeated by unifying life forces (k’uh, kuxa’an, and pixan) and perceive ancient ruins as a living landscape invisible to human eyes but necessary for their social life, health, subsistence, and community prosperity. These sites are not ruins but the houses of nonhuman persons: Lacandon have to visit these sites and their owners directly to persuade them to help humans. Lacandon beliefs in ruins may explain the importance of ruined sites in Mesoamerican societies, particularly among Postclassic Maya who also undertook ritual visits to ruins to burn incense and leave offerings.
For the past decade, and especially since the release of ChatGPT in 2022, some people have started to have intimate relationships with chatbots, or what is called having an AI companion. But to have a relationship of this sort with a chatbot, it is necessary to engage in a slow process of eliciting an individual social person out of the default chatbot persona through the management of various kinds of texts. In this paper, I examine how people with AI companions navigate the oscillations between individuated persons and generic personas as versions of human oscillations between socialization and individualization.
The Psychopath and the Twentieth-Century American Novel examines the psychopath as a new kind of monster. Frederick Whiting reads novels – ranging from pulp fiction to belles lettres – that draw on science, law, and popular journalism to try to explain this threatening new creature. Through these readings, this book uncovers the ways in which the figure of the psychopath that populated so many twentieth-century American novels expressed cultural anxieties about sexuality, race, gender, and class – even as the psychopath marked the shifting boundaries of the category of 'the human.' Whiting offers an interdisciplinary analysis showing how literature, science, law, and popular journalism inform each other. Ultimately, he concludes, this episode in the genealogy of monstrosity amounts to a transformation in the evolving concept of the monstrous itself – from a violation of our nature to a violation of our narratives.
The material and visual culture of late precolonial Andean societies-especially the Inka Empire-looked radically different from their predecessors. For millennia, the iconography of the ancient Andes was dominated by warriors, sacrificial rites, apex predators and chimerical beings whose bodies were amalgamations of multiple human and animal species. Yet by AD 1000, these images had almost entirely vanished. This study offers the first ever analysis of these dramatic transformations. Far more than simply a change of aesthetic preferences, or even a shift in ideology, it posits a series of metaphysical revolutions in which Andean sociality was fundamentally altered. The basis of personhood, the creation of value and the nature of political power itself all came to be refigured in far-reaching ways. Specifically, a once-dominant metaphysics focused on the predatory extraction of vitality from enemies disappeared, to be replaced by one grounded in reciprocal exchanges between human and nonhuman beings.
The field of International Relations (IR) has come under increasing and sustained criticism for producing and disseminating a particular reading of European history, one rooted in violence, as if it were universal knowledge. Generations of students, academics, practitioners, and policymakers have been taught and socialized into accepting this violent historical experience as the norm and, implicitly, as a reflection of human nature. As a result, the dominant accounts of IR tend to foreground competitive, conflictual, domineering, power-seeking, and exploitative behaviours as defining features of international life. This understanding of IR marginalizes and often ignores Indigenous ways of knowing that emphasize relationality, solidarity, mutual care, and cooperative forms of social organization. In this article, we argue that centring Afrocentric Indigenous Knowledge Systems (AIKS), particularly their conceptualizations of persons in IR scholarship, has the potential to move the field beyond its bleak and violent roots towards a more humane and relational epistemology. The AIKS-centred approach to IR is better suited to capturing the nuances of contemporary global life while speaking to the lived experiences of Africans and potentially other Indigenous peoples around the world.
This chapter opens with a survey of the literary genres in which the human rights subject emerges: the environmental justice novel, the postcolonial novel, the neo-slavery novel, and the graphic novel. Later, it moves to study the human person as victim, and the community as they are constructed within the genres, making the argument that embodiment, dignity, and collective vulnerability define both the person and the community. In the final section, the chapter narrows the focus to one genre, the environmental justice novel, looking specifically at the works of Isabel Allende, Yaa Gyasi, and Edward P Jones.
This article explores how people imagine a 21st-century persona-indexing register as emanating from a 19th-century person-indexing register. The persona in question is the Philippine conyo, regarded as spoiled, empty-headed, rich kids who speak a distinct style of “Taglish” (Tagalog-English). The person in question is José Rizal, one of the most celebrated Filipino historical figures. Drawing on ethnographic and media data, I trace how Rizal is regarded as “the original conyo,” as its first author or animator. Examining how this type-token interdiscursive link between persona and person plays on the inversion of a chronotopic frame, I consider what conceptualizing elite historical continuity accomplishes socially and economically. I argue that citing Rizal creates a channel to move value.
This paper explores the emergence of the bolo-player as a robust icon of personhood (Carr (2010)) in urban jiujitsu training rooms between China and the United States. I trace how this figure emerges as a kinesically enregistered stereotype (cf. Agha (2007)and Cohen (2021)) within a contrapuntal ecology of motion texts, from its mass-mediated origo: the berimbolo. Here, the berimbolo, or “scramble” in Brazilian Portuguese slang, describes a combination of movements in jiujitsu that—over a few generations—has mutated from an unintelligible zone of action leading to an inexplicable position of dominance for the player executing it; to a now highly choreographed repertoire of movements that have come to stand for an entire synesthetic ethics and personhood of bolo-ness.
Critical thinking on the relationship between fashion and ideas of personhood tends to fall into two approaches: (1) the violation or diminishing of persons by fashion as an oppressive expression of gender expectations and base commercialism; (2) the celebration of fashion as an agential mode of performance and resignification. Both leave uncontested a set of mutually imbricated oppositions between persons versus nonpersons, interiority versus exteriority, essence versus surface, organic body versus synthetic dress. What happens to how we think about fashion and beauty when they take place on the denigrated, racialized, and gendered body? The woman of color presents a provocation about the toggle between personhood and objecthood. What if race is fashion (that is, stylized, transferable, synthetic), and what are the political implications of posing such a question?
The Conclusion draws together the book’s various thematic strands: the perceived primacy of the ‘reason’, the right of its possessors to rule, the exculpatory effect of a frenzy diagnosis, and the high cost paid by those who received one. It returns to the larger question posed at the outset: whether the organ of the brain and the faculties of the mind were seen as constitutive of ‘personhood’ in pre-1700s England. The responses to frenzy which we have encountered in this book suggests that they were. The operations of the mental faculties known as ‘reason’, ‘will’, and ‘memory’ (or simply the ‘wits’) were located in (and often colloquially identified with) the brain. The functionality and continuity of these faculties was integral to the maintenance of legal, social, and spiritual personhood. Yet what troubled frenzy’s witnesses the most, the Conclusion argues, was the way it disrupted its sufferers’ predictable ways of being in the world – the values they had once held dear, the ways they had once looked and spoken. It was a disease which had the power to change friends, neighbours, and loved ones beyond recognition.
Chapter 4 examines local concepts of right(s), dissecting the ways in which brokering and begging were viewed as charitable compensations for the lack of government protection for disabled people, but claimed by the recipients as forms of work. Aspiring to have their activities recognised as rights, they spoke a local language of entitlement that conflated the value of independent work with the ethical and political right to care, asserting obligatory rights or taxes, against the donors’ perception of gifts. The language of ‘rights’ is a space of mutual evaluation, a rich and powerful language for discussing issues of inequality, membership, personhood, welfare, and power in Kinshasa today. It is perhaps most significant as a claim for distribution than as a legal premise of entitlements. Here, the question of a rightful share becomes pertinent, as givers and receivers evoked differing views on the same transaction that expressed contradictory aspirations and values. In the absence of formal institutions to enforce informal disability privileges, people had to recognise the right to be beggars or brokers on an interpersonal level, requiring constant value tests on whether claims to assistance were legitimate. The chapter thus disrupts the classic Maussian focus on giving and production to consider the moral and political controversies associated with asking and distribution.