Accountability and the academy: producing ... - Wiley Online Library

Accountability and the academy: producing knowledge about the human dimensions of climate change Elizabeth F. Hall & Todd Sanders University of Toronto

Calls for accountability and ‘impactful’ research are fundamentally reshaping the academy, giving rise to a large, critical scholarship on neoliberal regimes of accountability and their pernicious effects. But these calls also animate other institutional forms and practices that have received less critical attention. These include new forms of science that promise accountability through interdisciplinarity, collaborating with stakeholders, and addressing real-world problems. This article considers one example of such accountable science: human dimensions of climate change field research. This research endeavour has produced surprising results, including the uncritical adoption of controversial Euro-American ideas about traditional Others. In exploring how this has come about, the article considers how theoretical and disciplinary diversity are managed within this arena, and the organizing logics that enable climate sciences and scientists to work together. We ultimately argue that accountable science – like other neoliberal modes of accountability – can produce outcomes for which no one can be held to account.

To maximize relevance for adaptation and mitigation decision making, the Program will strive to foster science that is coherent and meaningful within specific decision contexts, integrates across disciplines, and engages stakeholders as participants. NSTC, OSTP & USGCRP 2012: 38

Since the 1980s, calls for transparency and accountability have increasingly marked our world (Power 1997; Sanders & West 2003; Strathern 2000). These calls have profoundly reshaped the academy through new, far-reaching institutional forms and practices. Quality assessment exercises such as the Research Excellence Framework aim to provide ‘accountability for public investment in research and produce evidence of the benefits of this investment’;1 institutional review boards seek to protect research subjects from harm; public-private partnerships try to transform academic ideas into patents and products; funding bodies insist that scientific knowledge be ‘impactful’ or ‘transformative’. These changes have challenged the academy, and given rise to a prolific critical scholarship that considers how neoliberal regimes of accountability discipline the academy, produce perverse outcomes, and even threaten the university’s guiding mission (e.g. Brenneis 2005; Hoffman 2011; Lederman 2006; Linková & Stöckelová 2012; Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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Shore & McLauchlan 2012; Slaughter & Leslie 1997; Strathern 2000; Wright & Rabo 2010). But calls to render the academy more accountable have given rise to other institutional forms and practices that, though ubiquitous, have received far less critical attention. These include new forms of science, variously known as postnormal (Funtowicz & Ravetz 1993), transdisciplinarity (Klein et al. 2001), Mode 2 (Gibbons et al. 1994; Nowotny, Scott & Gibbons 2001), issue-driven interdisciplinarity (Robinson 2008), and participatory interdisciplinarity (O’Brien, Marzano & White 2013). As per the epigraph from the US Global Change Research Program, such science promises accountability through an irreducible trio: interdisciplinarity, collaborating with stakeholders, and tackling real-world problems. In different forms, this science aims to ‘address socially relevant issues in a comprehensive and non-reductionist way’ (Pohl 2011: 618), to produce socially robust knowledge (Gibbons et al. 1994; Nowotny et al. 2001), to enable new insights and research initiatives (Ewel 2001), and to solve complex, real-world problems (Klein 1990; 2004). Since accountability is its motor, its message, and marks its quotidian practices, we call this ‘accountable science’.2 Key to accountable science’s success is the transgressive, deliberative space it enables. For it is here – some call it the agora (Gibbons et al. 1994; Nowotny et al. 2001) – where academics will overcome parochial disciplines and epistemic cultures, academic and non-academic stakeholders co-produce knowledge, and real-world concerns penetrate the ivory tower. Yet while such ideas are widespread and promise much, they are rarely considered in practice. This is regrettable, because in practice the agora is never a uniform, deliberative space but rather an uneven real-world arena. In different places and at different times, disparate discourses, people, and practices shape research problems, priorities, and projects; research findings circulate, coalesce, and are endorsed, refuted, or ignored. As a result, like other neoliberal modes of accountability, this real-world arena of scholarly practices can produce unexpected, even perverse, outcomes, and subvert the best of intentions. This article explores the practices, effects, and outcomes of accountable science. We focus on human dimensions of climate change research, an evolving form of accountable science that accompanied the recent wave of concerns with accountability. This research arena has grown rapidly in recent years, as field scientists from many disciplines have taken to studying marginal peoples in distant lands and how those peoples relate to their environment. Yet these efforts have produced surprising results, including the uncritical adoption of highly controversial Euro-American ideas about traditional Others. Our concern is to understand how this particular accountable science could yield such an outcome: one for which no one, ultimately, can be held to account. We begin by outlining key features of this accountable science endeavour and its unexpected outcome. We then attend to fundamental dynamics of the arena within which scholars interested in the human dimensions of climate change work. On the one hand, this means considering how diversity is managed within this arena and the role that new modes of accountability play in this process. On the other, it means dwelling on the organizing logics that enable and disable climate sciences’ and scientists’ ability to work together in this arena. We ultimately suggest that these two facets have systematically shaped human dimensions of climate change scholarship, and go some way towards explaining its unexpected outcome. We conclude with some thoughts on accountable science. C

Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

440 Elizabeth F. Hall & Todd Sanders

Human dimensions research and the Endangered Other

Growing numbers of social and natural scientists are today making their way to ‘lands on the margin’ – lush Pacific atolls, arid African villages, icy Arctic hamlets – to consider how indigenous, traditional, or tribal peoples will cope with climate change. This interest in the human dimensions of climate change coincides with growing confidence that climate models are accurate, or accurate enough; combined with the challenges of scaling down global models to generate fine-grained regional or local scenarios. It also follows years of criticism that Northern political agendas and knowledge practices have dominated global climate science, and that knowledges from the Global South, including those of indigenous peoples, have been ignored (Agarwal & Narain 1991; Fogel 2004). Funding councils have launched new initiatives3 and scholars are increasingly calling for sustained attention to the human dimensions of climate change (Aspinall 2010; Batterbury 2008; Hulme 2008; Yearley 2009). For many, the rationale for such empirical undertakings is self-evident: because traditional peoples are vulnerable and deeply dependent on the environment, they will suffer first, worst, and most directly from rapid climate change. Field scientists must document such peoples’ vulnerabilities, resilience, and adaptive capacities in order to develop policies to help them. This is twenty-first-century accountable science in action, and many scholars interested in the human dimensions of climate change are vocal on its defining features.4 The first such feature is convivial interdisciplinarity, by which we mean that scholars from many disciplines are encouraged to participate. And many do: anthropologists, biologists, hydrologists, geographers, geophysicists, geologists, ecologists, ethnobotanists, and meteorologists, as well as scholars in resource management, sustainability and environmental science, public health and public affairs, and indigenous and interdisciplinary studies (among others). Such diverse scholars, their ideas and documents, move and connect, giving life to varied collaborations, projects, funding streams, and academic and policy publications. These nimble networks and their products can be fleeting – a one-off collaboration or paper – or enduring, as with more stable research teams that produce many documents a year. Crucial to the reproduction of these scholarly forms are edited books (e.g. Crate & Nuttall 2009; Krupnik, Aporta, Gearheard, Laidler & Holm 2010; Krupnik & Jolly 2002) and high-impact academic journals – particularly interdisciplinary ones like Global Environmental Change and Climatic Change – that enable interdisciplinary convergences around ‘indigenous peoples and climate change’, sometimes with special themed issues (e.g. Ford & Furgal 2009; Green & Raygorodetsky 2010; Salick & Ross 2009; Stuckenberger 2010). The number of scholars and publications that engage with the human dimensions of climate change has grown dramatically over the past decade. This heterogeneous architecture ensures a broad range of competing theoretical orientations, though ‘theory’ is not a preoccupation. For some, it is systems ecology, framed in languages of coupled socio-ecological systems, drivers and determinants, stressors, feedbacks, thresholds, and so on (e.g. Ford & Smit 2004; Ford, Smit & Wandel 2006b; Pearce, Smit, et al. 2009; Smit & Wandel 2006). Others adopt a more humanistic ‘sacred ecology’ (Berkes 2008) wherein traditional peoples live in tune with their environments (e.g. Bridges & McClatchey 2009; Byg & Salick 2009; Cochran & Geller 2002; Leduc 2010; McNamara & Prasad 2014; Turner & Clifton 2009). Still others engage with the human dimensions of climate change inspired by political ecology, postcolonialism, and poststructuralism (e.g. Cameron 2012; Forbes & Stammler 2009; Gautam, Chief & Smith 2013; Hastrup Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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2009; Lazrus 2009; Nuttall 2009; Wenzel 2009). Such orientations are not the purview of single disciplines, but rather cross-cut them and the enterprise in complex ways. Sometimes orientations are complementary. More often they are not. Another noteworthy feature of this research enterprise is that it engages nonacademic stakeholders. Over days, weeks, months, or (more rarely) years of fieldwork, human dimensions scholars learn about people and their environment through standard social science field techniques: interviews, focus groups, participant observation, and so on. The research process is commonly configured as research with and for people rather than on them (e.g. Ford, Keskitalo, et al. 2010: 380). This responsibility to research populations is one reason ‘researchers are increasingly involving communities throughout the research process, including research design and application, and interpretation and verification of results’ (Pearce, Ford, et al. 2009: 14). Many are explicit that they collaborate and co-produce knowledge, a commitment that sometimes leads to co-authored publications with research participants.5 Finally, because human dimensions research converges around a big, real-world problem, it is commonly cast as useful and policy-relevant. Many scholars concerned with the human dimensions of climate change work within both academic and policyrelevant arenas, including as lead and contributing authors to Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) Assessments, the Arctic climate impact assessment (Symons 2005), and others. Academic articles form the evidence-base for IPCC consensus statements for policy-makers. Some human dimensions researchers have even taken ‘the next step’ (Ford, Pearce, Duerden, Furgal & Smit 2010) and produced policy recommendations. Scholarship on the human dimensions of climate change is not destined to languish in academic journals: it traffics widely and provides the scientific evidence base for a vast grey literature. The aim is to be ‘impactful’. Thus have remarkably divergent scholars turned to studying the human dimensions of climate change, summoning many disciplines, and working with stakeholders to tackle an urgent, real-world problem. It is hard to imagine a more socially robust, accountable form of knowledge production. Yet, over the past decade, this research endeavour has occasioned the unreflexive, widespread adoption of a controversial form of knowledge: an analytic we call the Endangered Other. Though not all scholars concerned with the human dimensions of climate change find this analytic worthwhile – quite the contrary – it is none the less ubiquitous in this workspace. Here we paint the Endangered Other in broad brushstrokes, gesturing through citations to its farreaching appeal. Though we are explicating an analytic, we refer to it as ‘he’ to convey its common reification in this literature.6 The Endangered Other has several aspects, which are sometimes elided and differently punctuated in practice. The first is traditional culture. Though also expressed as ‘indigenous’, ‘aboriginal’, ‘tribal’, or through ethnic designators, the essence is the same: the Endangered Other possesses true, authentic culture. Such essentialized, traditional peoples and cultures are tightly bound and distinct. ‘Today, the Arctic is home to a large number of indigenous peoples with distinct cultures, languages, traditions, and ways of interacting with their environment’ (Huntington et al. 2005: 62). The presumption of distinct traditional cultures enables explanations like acculturative stress (Ford 2009: 3) and cultural pollution (Pedersen 2007: 106). Owing to their cultures, ‘traditional peoples’ do ‘traditional things’ like hunting polar bears or harvesting breadfruit or whatever else comes naturally – or, rather, culturally – to them. C



The Endangered Other’s traditional beliefs, values, and worldviews are instantiated in indigenous knowledge (IK): ‘a body of knowledge built up by a group of people through generations of living in close contact with nature’ (Berkes & Berkes 2009: 7).7 IK is ‘place, time and culture specific’ (Ifejika Speranza, Kiteme, Amenje, Wiesmann & Makali 2010: 311) and makes traditional peoples different: ‘[I]t is well known that the Inuit do not attach much value to numerical precision. They also do not often appear to make simple linear, cause-and-effect type connections, as often done in the Western science’ (Berkes & Berkes 2009: 8). Through IK, a traditional culture can speak in unison to say ‘climate change is happening’ (Cochran & Geller 2002: 1404; Crate 2008; Da Silva, Albernaz-Silveira & Nogueira 2014), or it can ‘no longer predict the weather’ (Jolly et al. 2002; Pearce, Smit, et al. 2009; Weatherhead, Gearheard & Barry 2010: 524). IK is (or was) transmitted in block fashion between generations within cultures (Brondizio & Moran 2008: 1805; Ford et al. 2007: 155; Huntington et al. 2005: 64; Ifejika Speranza et al. 2010: 311). When ‘incomplete transmission of knowledge’ occurs, younger generations suffer and sometimes engage in more risk-taking behaviour in their environment (Ford, Smit & Wandel 2006a: 131). ‘The erosion of IK and land-based skills strongly affects the vulnerability of young people in Nunavut to climate change’ (Ford et al. 2007: 158). The Endangered Other is also remote and/or isolated – another reason he is vulnerable to climate change (Crate 2008; Ford 2009: 1; Furgal & Seguin 2006; Jacka 2009; Pearce, Ford, Caron & Kudlak 2012). The idea of isolation, relative or absolute, sits well with the idea that indigenous knowledge and practices move intact between generations; a lack of isolation means mixing, and threatens such totalizing transmissions and IK’s supposed coherence. So axiomatic is ‘local peoples” isolation for some human dimensions researchers that they – and reviewers of their National Science Foundationfunded projects – vex themselves asking: ‘Is indigenous knowledge likely to be corrupted by scientific collaboration?’ (Norton 2002: 152). The Endangered Other is place-based or local (e.g. Brondizio & Moran 2008; Crate 2011; Hobbs & Davis 2012; Krupnik & Jolly 2002; Shaffer & Naiene 2011). The local can be an island, a village, a hamlet, or a collection of them. Whatever the case, the Endangered Other and his traditional knowledge are firmly anchored in places. This is one reason why some human dimensions scholars can move effortlessly in their writings between ‘traditional’ or ‘indigenous peoples’, on the one hand, and ‘local peoples’, on the other (Byg & Salick 2009; Salick & Ross 2009; Turner & Clifton 2009); and why ‘community’ can be used interchangeably with ‘local’ and ‘locality’ (Becken, Lama & Espiner 2013; McNamara & Prasad 2014; Smit & Wandel 2006: 283). Key to this ‘local’ is the environment, since ‘Indigenous peoples live in close association with their land’ (Bolin 2009: 228; also, e.g., Brondizio & Moran 2008: 1805; Furberg, Eveng˚ard & Nilsson 2011). Thus by threatening nature, climate change threatens local cultures. Finally come vulnerability, resilience, and adaptation. The Endangered Other has gradually adapted over millennia to fill a local, ecological niche: ‘Each Aboriginal group is uniquely adapted to its geography and local ecology’ (Furgal & Seguin 2006: 1968). Indigenous knowledge and local culture enable these adaptations: ‘Local culture brings a distinct mode of learning and thought, intimate relations with land and resources, and time-tested strategies of human survival’ (Kofinas et al. 2002: 60). But adaptation has limits. Faced with rapid climate change, their traditional survival strategies are in peril, and likely at any moment to collapse (Becken et al. 2013: 33; Brondizio & Moran 2008: 1805; Crate 2008; Shaffer & Naiene 2011: 233). Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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Field scientists concerned with the human dimensions of climate change must urgently research such peoples to help them adapt to climate change. Or so the logic goes. Now, the Endangered Other is a familiar and controversial figure within anthropology. On the one hand, anthropologists have long rejected the Orientalizing, essentializing, and environmental determinism it entails. They have unpicked IK (Agrawal 1995; Nadasdy 1999), shown how non-Moderns are invented (Latour 1993), and demonstrated how ideas of niches and adaptation incarcerate Others in places (Appadurai 1988: 37). Some have forcefully written against culture (Abu-Lughod 1991; Gupta & Ferguson 1992; Trouillot 2003: chap. 5), while others have shown that seemingly remote, isolated, local peoples and places are not, but rather the products of enduring power relations and discourses that span the globe (Ferguson 1994; Piot 1999; Tsing 1993). Such long-standing critiques have intensified as ‘the native’ returns with a vengeance through governments, NGOs, and international bodies, bringing with it ‘dangerous political consequences’ (Kuper 2003: 395). On the other hand, some anthropologists insist that old ideas about Others can be useful: in today’s world, ‘strategic essentialism’ is vital to enable marginalized people to gain recognition, rights, and access to scarce resources. For these anthropologists, ‘the concept of indigenous has become a powerful tool for good’ (Lee 2006: 458). Empirical evidence exists for both positions, and for others (e.g. Sylvain 2014). But in this case, the Endangered Other offers few grounds for enthusiasm – or for sound policies – as a number of scholars concerned with the human dimensions of climate change have shown.8 Consider the Canadian Arctic. Here, much human dimensions scholarship assumes that thawing sea ice spells cultural death for the Inuit, as traditional male hunters and harvesters fall through thin ice. Yet such positions ensure manifold failures: the failure to consider the political and legal institutions and structures that constrain Arctic residents’ ability to adapt to climate change (Sejersen 2009); the failure to see resource extraction and shipping as human dimensions of climate change (Cameron 2012); the failure to attend to the national and international linkages through which ‘traditional hunting’ is constituted, and to recognize that hunting policies set in Washington, London, and Brussels may pose a greater threat to Arctic citizens than the changing biophysical climate (Wenzel 2009). A similar case obtains in, say, the South Pacific, where researchers, the media, and NGOs imagine traditional islanders sinking beneath the waves: a discourse that renders large-scale resettlement inevitable, while circumventing ‘careful consideration of adaptive measures that could be supported by the international community to prevent forced migration’ (Mortreux & Barnett 2009: 106). At stake are not just competing theoretical positions, but the nature and directions of policy interventions. Yet in spite of these problems, critiques, and contestations, the Endangered Other is increasingly deployed in climate change scholarship, with scant recognition of the problems ‘he’ creates. How can the Endangered Other thrive untroubled in this arena? Accountable science, after all, is supposed to deliberate and settle disputes; to produce better scientific knowledge not worse; to be more accountable to varied publics not less. One answer can be found in how this research enterprise manages diversity and, in the process, reformats accountability relations.

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Managing diversity and reformatting accountability

The climate change problem is conceived as complex, as are most problems that accountable science confronts. This complexity demands that a panoply of disciplinary knowledges be mobilized – hence the convivial interdisciplinarity that marks the human dimensions research endeavour. But disparate academic disciplines and knowledges must somehow be managed. They cannot simply be combined, as if pieces of a puzzle, to understand ‘the whole’ of the human dimensions of climate change. Scholars of interdisciplinarity have long pondered the challenges of combining divergent disciplinary knowledges and knowledge practices, as well as diverse theoretical, epistemological, and ontological commitments. The challenges are substantial not just for doing interdisciplinary research but also for its evaluation. Who can judge quality? By what criteria? Which knowledge counts? When posed within specific disciplines or epistemic communities, such queries come with ready-made answers: disciplined scholars must account to their peers and disciplines, even if in practice such ideas are rarely straightforward. With interdisciplinary research, however, where the meaning of ‘peer’ unravels and ‘disciplinary standards’ are rendered parochial, evaluation is much trickier (Klein 2008; Nowotny, Scott & Gibbons 2003: 187– 8), even while ‘symptoms of quality’ can sometimes be found (Boix Mansilla & Gardner 2003). Such knowledge problems are routinely seen as ‘barriers’ to interdisciplinary research, and evoked to explain interdisciplinary frictions, setbacks, and failures. Interdisciplinarity fails when knowledge and researchers fail to transgress disciplinary boundaries (Horlick-Jones & Sime 2004; Lélé & Norgaard 2005); institutional and peer review structures hamper interdisciplinarians’ efforts to publish, to secure positions, promotions, and funding, because they rely on disciplinary standards to arbitrate quality (Broto, Gislason & Ehlers 2009). But there is little evidence that these well-worn knowledge problems have hindered human dimensions of climate change scholarship. Like other interdisciplinary enterprises (Galison 1996; Kwa 2005; Mol 2002), this one simply gets on with business. Academic careers, funding, research, publications, and the Endangered Other thrive. In this case, controversy is avoided by evoking certain ideas about the nature of knowledge: because all knowledge is partial, all knowledges count; and all knowledges will somehow, sometime, be assembled to complete the climate change puzzle. The jigsaw puzzle metaphor is endemic to the human dimensions of climate change research arena – witness Figure 1 – and makes it difficult to question the value of any particular knowledge particle. The Endangered Other and his critics cohabitate special journal issues (Ford & Furgal 2009; Stuckenberger 2010), edited books (Crate & Nuttall 2009), and comprehensive, scientific assessments (IPCC 2007b; Symons 2005) with negligible debate, let alone resolution. Scholars engaged in human dimensions research manage the puzzle in different ways. One is the all-in approach: identify the Endangered Other, then catalogue social, political, economic, and other ‘non-climatic drivers’ as if everything equally mattered (e.g. Pearce, Smit, et al. 2009; Lynn et al. 2013). Another is to suggest that the political, economic, legal, and social aspects of climate change provide the ‘backdrop’ against which locals ‘will experience and respond to a changing climate’ (Ford 2009: 3; also, e.g., Furgal & Seguin 2006: 1966; Shaffer & Naiene 2011: 226; Turner & Clifton 2009: 180). While some concede that climate change will exacerbate political, economic, and other inequalities and problems, such things are mere background not foreground, consequence not cause, confounder not mediator. Figure 2 is reproduced from one Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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Figure 1. Cover of NSF’s Solving the puzzle (2009). (Reprinted with the permission of the National Science Foundation.)

much-cited human dimensions paper, and shows how such positions are sometimes schematized. In this arena, no justification is required for why such consequential analytic choices have been made, what is at stake in making them, and why they are thought to deliver the most powerful lens for the issues at hand. Managing the puzzle this way requires work. Bridges and McClatchey (2009), for instance, studied the relation between climate change and traditional culture on Rongelap atoll in the South Pacific. Because atoll dwellers live ‘on the margin’, with ‘tight feedback loops’ between their local environment and behaviour, scholars can learn much from their traditional ecological knowledge about how they cope with environmental change. But telling such tales requires considerable effort to render other things mere background: in their case, a 15-megaton atomic blast that vaporized nearby Bikini atoll in 1954, and blanketed Rongelap with radioactive fallout – an event C



Figure 2. ‘A conceptual model of vulnerability. Components of vulnerability identified and linked to factors beyond the system of study and operating at various scales’. (Figure and caption reprinted from: Global Environmental Change 16, J.D. Ford, B. Smit & J. Wandel, Vulnerability to climate change in the C 2006, with permission from Elsevier.) Arctic: a case study from Arctic Bay, Canada, 146–50, Copyright

that led to Rongelap’s total evacuation for a generation, birth defects, cancers, deaths, a unique ‘radiation language’ to discuss them, and life-long engagements with American politicians, lawyers, and scientists and the International Court of Justice at The Hague (Barker 2004). It is implausible that such ‘background’ is unrelated to ‘local TEK’ and ‘the coping strategies that have enabled these peoples to be resilient’ (Bridges & McClatchey 2009: 140). Yet here as elsewhere, although the Endangered Other obscures what in many accounts counts most, no justification is provided for his deployment. He just is. Within the human dimensions arena, however, such scholarship poses few problems, as the puzzle metaphor works its magic. All knowledges have merit. All scholars must produce their own equally valuable piece of the climate change puzzle. It will someday all add up. Convivial interdisciplinarity and jigsaw puzzle metaphor conspire to preempt evaluation and above-board decision-making. Scholars interested in the human dimensions of climate change cannot hold one another to account. If peer evaluation proves challenging in this arena, then scientific evaluation proper – which begins rather than ends with publication – proves equally so. This is the scholarly community’s protracted process of warranting knowledge through debating, agreeing, disagreeing, and sometimes simply ignoring. Such warranting and its controversies are key to scientific knowledge production and public accountability. But warranting takes time, something in short supply for this useful, policy-relevant enterprise. Research must be urgently pressed into service to solve ‘our planetary emergency’ (Crate 2008: Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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591; also Batterbury 2008; Jacka 2009). Scientific evaluation is thus often sped up by scientific bodies like the IPCC, whose job it is to evaluate evidence and produce expert consensus documents for policy. The IPCC’s work – scientific evaluation at breathtaking speeds – is meant to be ‘policy-relevant and yet policy-neutral, never policy-prescriptive’.9 Has the IPCC managed the Endangered Other any better? Not exactly. Peer and scientific evaluation have not proved straightforward for the IPCC. Questions of who qualifies as a peer or expert have bedevilled the organization from the outset (Miller 2004a); demands for broad representation, coupled with the contradictory need for disinterested scientific peers, ‘inevitably drive peer review up against its very limits’ (Yearley 2009: 397); and broad paradigmatic and epistemic concerns have, for these and other reasons, gone unresolved (Shackley 1997; Yearley 2009). The IPCC has thus neither clarified nor resolved the thorny issues surrounding the Endangered Other and his critics. In the 976-page IPCC Working Group II AR4 document (IPCC 2007b), the Endangered Other comfortably cohabitates with modern nation-states and global political economies, with many qualifications that disallow monolithic readings. In some chapters the Endangered Other is virtually absent (e.g. chap. 9). In others it weighs heavily, but so does everything else (chap. 15). In still others, the Endangered Other is proffered as the policy of choice. Chapter 13 on Latin America, for example, suggests that because ‘pre-Columbian civilisations developed the necessary capacity to adapt to the local environmental conditions . . . , [e]ducation and training of present community members on the knowledge and technical abilities of their ancestors would be the way forward’ (IPCC 2007b: 605, emphasis added). Thus through its rigorous evaluation process, the IPCC has sanctioned the Endangered Other as state-of-the-art scientific knowledge. If the human dimensions arena has enfeebled accountability relations amongst ‘peers’, it has also reconfigured them amongst researchers and research populations. How can human dimensions researchers working in the Canadian Arctic speak of producing policy ‘for all Inuit regions’ (Ford, Pearce, et al. 2010: 184) while methodologically bracketing out global connections and most Canadian Arctic citizens (see, e.g., Bravo 2009; Cameron 2012; Nuttall et al. 2005; Sejersen 2009; Wenzel 2009)? How can others working in Fiji blame research shortcomings on ‘the inability of most interviewees to converse fluently in English and to articulate their concerns in the language of science’ (Lata & Nunn 2012: 177; see also Hall & Sanders 2013)? Something is amiss. One might proffer a good dose of postcolonial theory (Cameron 2012), except that it is already there, and it has not eradicated such accounting failures.10 Better to ask why, with everything in the mix, accountability alarm bells sound for some but not for others – a move that requires turning to the professions. Professions come in different forms. Those that are ‘people-intensive’ – social anthropology, human geography, medicine, public health, law, and so on – have grown up with specific publics ever-present in their practice (field interlocutors, patients, study populations, litigants, among others). These professions thus embody complex histories of their entanglements with people, each being the outcome of a long conversation with its constitutive public(s). These conversations have rarely proved straightforward because, despite good intentions, people-intensive professions have all too often inflicted harm on ‘their people’. The political and ethical sensibilities entailed in people-intensive professions thus run deep. This is one reason why the professional impulse to act is measured: not any action will do, and sometimes the appropriate action is inaction. It is also why such C



matters escape encapsulation in how-to manuals, ethical codes, and earnest calls for collaboration (Konrad 2012; Pels 2005). Learning ‘Do no harm’ is one thing; learning how to do no harm, quite another. The latter requires attending to the many ways one might inadvertently do harm, and accounting for possible violations in advance. Acquiring these crucial skills takes time, and is ordinarily accomplished through professionalization: by joining the long conversation, and through that, slowly, steadily, sometimes painfully, calibrating one’s sights and practices with a profession’s ways of seeing and doing (e.g. Goodwin 1994; Sinclair 1997). Ethics are embodied in professional practice. But what happens to painstakingly gained professional skills and sensibilities when an academic enterprise encourages rapid transgressions of professional, epistemic, and methodological boundaries? When meteorlogists and krill biologists are encouraged to study people? When academics are invited to do policy-relevant, interventionorientated research, but with neither professional regulatory bodies nor legal mechanisms to hold them to account (see Miller 2004b)? One possibility is that the social sciences are reduced to methods, allowing one biologist to say that ‘once he understood how to design interview questions himself, social science research methodology became somewhat redundant’ (Hobbs & Davis 2012: 236). Another is that the long conversation on ethics is cut short, and neophyte professionals remain deaf to the accountability alarm bells that so deeply disturb others. Orientalizing, environmental determinism, and their political consequences go unnoticed. Within the human dimensions enterprise, few have interrogated what professional competence might mean, how it is acquired, and the harm that can be inflicted on research populations in its absence. To suggest that this particular accountable science has reworked and even dismantled key accountability relations and mechanisms that have long attempted to hold professionals accountable to their peers, study populations, and ultimately society is not to suggest that scholars engaged with the human dimensions of climate change are unaccountable. On the contrary, many continue to account to their disciplines and professions for research and recognition, publication, and promotion. The noteworthy point is that within this arena such conventional accounting is not strictly required. All have the right to contribute their piece of the puzzle without fear of reprisal. Besides, alternative modes of accountability – namely, audit – have taken hold within the academy and the enterprise that afford human dimensions scholars alternative ways to account. Audit increasingly marks the academy, and academics are increasingly required to perform accountability in highly visible and readily quantifiable ways (Shore & Wright 1999; Strathern 2000). Thus, many scholars concerned with the human dimensions of climate change accentuate specific aspects of their work practices: being interdisciplinary; collaborating with stakeholders; doing useful, policy-relevant research. Such claims underscore a commitment to accountability and to its public demonstration. Moreover, audit metrics readily lend themselves to measuring accountable science, posing number-hungry questions like: How many disciplines and collaborators are engaged? How many grants have been received? How many peerreviewed papers published? How many times cited? Some human dimensions scholars maintain up-to-the-minute websites devoted to such metrics. But as critics routinely note, audit metrics do not unproblematically index what they claim to. The danger is that by allowing process measures to stand in for outcomes, merely doing interdisciplinary research risks becoming ‘an index of accountability’ Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.) 21, 438-461 2015 The Authors. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd on behalf of Royal Anthropological Institute.

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(Strathern 2004a: 79), ‘an end, not just a means’ (Strathern 2005: 128). Such slippage equally applies, we suggest, to ‘collaborating with people’ and ‘useful, policy-relevant research’, which equally risk becoming ends in themselves. In this way, the mere act of doing accountable science – of being interdisciplinary, collaborating with stakeholders, and tackling ‘real-world problems’ – passes for being accountable. No further demonstration is required, and problematic outcomes like the Endangered Other require no comment. Thus does the human dimensions enterprise prove a resounding success, while simultaneously failing to address the serious theoretical, practical, and accountability challenges its knowledge practices engender. Managing climate sciences and human dimensions scholarship

If convivial interdisciplinarity, puzzle metaphors, and new accountability mechanisms conspire to produce a permissive workplace wherein good and bad, helpful and harmful ideas can all potentially thrive, this does not explain why the Endangered Other in particular has gained such acclaim within the climate change arena. Answering this question requires attending to accountable science’s driving dictate to engage many more disciplines. In this case, this means considering a range of natural sciences – the original inhabitants of this arena – and the organizing logics that have both enabled and disabled collaboration on the question of climate change. It is these logics, we submit, that call natural and social scientists to account in very specific ways and that powerfully summon the Endangered Other. Today’s climate change science is by any measure a ‘vast machine’ (Edwards 2010), comprising innumerable infrastructural networks that crisscross the planet. Complex data collection systems link sea, sky, land, and space in an effort to fill data grids of global scope, while resource-intensive supercomputers model global climates. Massive initiatives such as the Global Earth Observation System of Systems (GEOSS) amalgamate and systematize data from wide-ranging geophysical observing systems around the world, while international scientific gateways like the Earth System Grid facilitate the distribution of climate models’ outputs to varied users world-wide. Although its technological scale and complexity are arresting, climate change science is none the less a very human enterprise that cannot be meaningfully discussed in the singular. Physicists, systems analysts, geographers, oceanographers, earth scientists, atmospheric chemists, mathematicians, meteorologists and many others bring their distinctive knowledge practices. These practices, like the scientists, vary greatly: they frame different objects, pose different questions, deploy different conceptual tools, methods, and models. Some such differences fall along disciplinary lines. Others do not. Some scientific practices – say, computer simulation modelling – cross-cut the disciplines in complex ways, creating further epistemological and ontological cleavages. Thus, if the human dimensions of climate change research arena is marked by contestations, frictions, and factions, the same goes for the natural sciences: for modelling climates, climate change, and climate impacts (Lahsen 1998; Shackley 2001; Shackley & Wynne 1995b); environmental surveillance systems (Benson 2012); and Earth Systems research programmes (Kwa 2005). But today’s climate science is for many a shining example of interdisciplinary best practice, ‘an interdisciplinary synthesis of countless tested and proven physical processes and principles painstakingly compiled and verified’ (IPCC 2007a: 98). So what organizing logics have enabled this massive, interdisciplinary, natural sciences collaboration to work, and to produce policy-relevant knowledge about climate change? C



We begin with global climate models, and, more specifically, the puzzle-like notion of ‘system’ that drives them. Climate models are instantiations of ‘the climate system’ in mathematical form, and are pivotal to understanding global climate change. General circulation models (GCMs) are global climate models11 that are used extensively to understand and predict past, present, and future climates. As supercomputer capacity and climate research have expanded over the past forty years, so have GCMs evolved to incorporate various elements of the lithosphere, cryosphere, hydrosphere, and biosphere, explicitly modelling more physical processes, and enrolling various disciplines concerned with them along the way. Indeed, the models have become so populated that many ‘climate modellers are now increasingly defining their object in terms of an “Earth system” instead of a “climate system”’ (Paillard 2008: 25). A wide range of disciplinary knowledges from across the earth sciences can now be ‘flexibly coupled’ within the Earth System. Consider GENIE (Grid ENabled Integrated Earth system model) and its emblematic ambition to couple myriad components of the system: ‘[R]ealistic simulations of long-term climate change require a complete Earth system model that includes, as a minimum, components representing the atmosphere, ocean, sea-ice, marine sediments, land surface, vegetation, soil, and ice sheets and the energy, hydrological and biogeochemical cycling within and between components’.12 Climate modellers are also grappling with how to model the system through time. They are concerned not just with the future, but also with the distant past, prompting questions about how to couple processes, systems, and subsystems that act on vastly different timescales (e.g. slowly changing oceans and fast-changing atmosphere). Related challenges spring from palaeoclimatic data, which paint a complex picture of past climates and environmental conditions. Thus climate models predicated on gradual change must come to terms with manifold feedbacks, non-linearities, critical thresholds, and tipping-points in order to capture complex system dynamics (Paillard 2008: 30). The use of ‘system’ as an organizing logic is not unique to climate models, but also ‘plays a strongly regulative role’ (Jasanoff & Wynne 1998: 49) in broader climate change research agendas.13 Thus, notions of system – note the plural – not only provide the conceptual architecture for varied climate, earth, and integrated assessment computer modelling initiatives, but also order the myriad disciplines in international climate change research programmes.14 The consequence is a research arena wherein each knowledge form has its place. A second organizing logic in this arena, another locus of interdisciplinary concern and action, is ‘data’ and their associated knowledge practices (Conway 2006; Kwa 2005). Earth system data circulate in a highly differentiated Big Data economy of scientific data collectors, facilitators, managers, and end-users. An impressive infrastructure collects the data needed to apprehend a global climate system. For example, the World Meteorological Organization co-ordinates more than 10000 manned and automatic surface weather stations, 1000 upper-air stations, over 7000 ships, more than 100 moored and 1000 drifting buoys, hundreds of weather radars and over 3000 specially equipped commercial aircraft [that] measure key parameters of the atmosphere, land and ocean surface every day. The space-based component of the WMO Observing System contains operational polar-orbiting and geostationary satellites and also R&D environmental satellites complementing ground-based global observations.15


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Predictably, such earth- and space-based observation systems, together with global climate models and myriad research initiatives and studies, are producing much data; so much, in fact, that climate data and datasets are ‘fast becoming too massive for current storage, manipulation, archiving, navigation, and retrieval capabilities’ (Bernholdt et al. 2005: 485; see also Conway 2006). Data collection necessitates data management. This means scientific data managers and facilitators who systematize, archive, curate, and develop strategies for long-term sustainability and improved data-sharing (see, e.g., Parsons 2011; Parsons et al. 2011). Scientific end-users, for their part, discover and work on climate data through scientific portals and gateways. Others use interdisciplinary data-only journals such as Earth System Science Data, wherein ‘any interpretation of data is outside the scope of regular articles’.16 In this titanic data economy, data must flow. Free-flowing, openly accessible data are key to a publicly accountable climate science (Kleiner 2011), to the sciences’ verification and validation, and to the interdisciplinary integration necessary to understand climate change (Parsons 2011). When frictions slow data down, metadata and conversations about them are required to keep them moving (Edwards, Mayernik, Batcheller, Bowker & Borgman 2011). Humans have occupied an ambivalent position in this predominantly natural science arena: as the source of CO2 emissions in Earth System models; in economic components of integrated assessment models; even as a geological force. As pressures to include the human in more meaningful ways increase, it seems obvious how to do so: couple them in. ‘To forecast climate change and develop sound responses’, notes one atmospheric scientist, ‘we need to couple the human and natural components of the earth system’ (Prinn 2013: 3673). The idea of coupled human and natural systems is not just seductive to climate modellers and Earth System scientists. Many others, too, proffer Social-Ecological Systems (SESs), Coupled Human and Natural Systems (CHANS), and kindred concepts as the obvious approach to the climate change problem (see, e.g., Folke 2006; Gunderson & Holling 2002; Ostrom 2009). Such scholars trade in idioms of neatly delineated ‘systems’ and ‘subsystems’, ‘components’ and their ‘links’, ‘nested hierarchies’, ‘feedback loops’, ‘thresholds’, and ‘couplings’ across space and through time. Understanding such systems has proved challenging, ‘largely due to the traditional separation of ecologists and social scientists’ (Liu, Dietz, Carpenter, Alberti, et al. 2007: 1513). But they are making serious efforts to overcome disciplinary barriers, to integrate natural and social science knowledges, and to produce a science of coupled human-natural systems that takes us ‘beyond the ivory tower’ (Liu, Dietz, Carpenter, Folke, et al. 2007: 646). Accountable science works here too. With this comes a corresponding urgent need for human data, in forms amenable to integration. This need so far remains unfulfilled by the seemingly recalcitrant social sciences. ‘Existing human-social data need to be better organized and coordinated with physical climate observations to enable integrated social-natural systems research’, says the US National Research Council (NRC 2009: 5). This problem is not new, the report adds: ‘[T]he shortage of human systems data in forms useful for analysis of human dimensions issues has been discussed in a number of NRC reports’ (NRC 2009: 193). From this perspective, social scientists are not accounting as required, and are apparently part of the problem: ‘[S]cientists with a strong social science disciplinary background have a learning curve to traverse before they can make serious contributions to understanding the climate problem’ (NRC 2009: 195). So intractable is this problem C



that some climate scientists have suggested a ‘new generation of young scientists’ may be required to bridge the ‘large and deep-rooted divide’ between the natural and human sciences (Paillard 2008: 33; also Schmidt & Moyer 2008). However, the division that marks this arena is less between the natural and human sciences than between knowledge forms that align with prevailing logics and those that do not. Natural science knowledges thrive that contribute their piece of the Earth System puzzle formatted as ‘systems’ and ‘data’, and hold out the promise of successful integration. Those that do not do so flounder, fail, and/or must reformat themselves to be admitted (see, e.g., Benson 2012; Kwa 2005; Lahsen 1998; Shackley & Wynne 1995a; Wynne 2010). The story of interdisciplinary climate sciences’ synthesis and integration is far from simple. The same goes for knowledge about humans, which is not uniformly useful in this arena. Much contemporary social science scholarship fits awkwardly – or not at all – because it questions the foundations upon which much climate change scholarship rests. Scholarship that does not assume the ontological status of the local, but is nevertheless concerned with marginalized ‘locals’, struggles to find a niche in an arena that routinely organizes knowledge according to scale: does it concern the local, the regional, or the global? Scholars who understand human ‘data’ as conjured through methods and inseparable from theory, politics, and ethics cannot promise to provide data on local and cultural variables that can circulate freely in the climate change data economy. For these reasons and others, much human science scholarship threatens to undo rather than complete the climate change puzzle. There are exceptions. One is the Endangered Other, which promises to fill a preordained human slot. It offers a temporally and spatially bounded object, one that – like the climate itself – adapts gradually within bounds but may at any moment reach a tipping-point and collapse. It complements well-known natural components of the system with human, cultural components; provides local knowledge to complement global climate knowledge; and Others’ knowledges to complement Western Science. Reification further strengthens the Endangered Other’s appeal, since ‘he’ can be imagined as ‘just data’. By enrolling ‘locals’ as observers, the Endangered Other also promises to fill environmental data gaps in remote, off-the-grid places. Scholars who deploy the Endangered Other are well aware of these local, cultural, human slots, and regularly articulate a vision of how to fill them: ‘Inuvialuit observations cannot replace scientific measurement and models. But they can contribute to the overall understanding of the system, complementing science by filling in the otherwise missing local scale, providing baseline information, . . . and supplying communitybased monitoring’ (Berkes & Berkes 2009: 11). But this promise to integrate, which must remain unfulfilled, only partially explains the Endangered Other’s appeal. He also appeals because he does vital work in the present. An important part of this work is helping to make global science global. For in spite of the array of satellites, probes, aircraft, buoys, ships, and carbon-based data collectors like dolphins (see Benson 2012) – and now ‘local’ observers – global coverage remains elusive. Once amassed at the ‘centres of calculation’ (Latour 1987), data must be rendered global through algorithms and interpolation (Edwards 2010: chap. 10). Modelling centres also produce visions of global futures that must be put to work. But these centres are few and unevenly distributed around the globe, located where financial resources abound. Data distribution networks, collaborations, and capacity-building


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initiatives in the Global South forge some of the networks through which this ‘local’ science spreads and comes to work in the world. Many scholars concerned with the human dimensions of climate change sustain and extend these networks. The numerous publications that start with ‘The IPCC says . . . ’ propagate climate science facts through interdisciplinary and social science literatures. These facts solidify as, shorn of their contexts of production, they leave behind local knowledge of their uncertainties. Human dimensions field studies that use regional climate projections as yardsticks against which to measure locals’ knowledge; that use climate futures to frame interviews on adaptation and resilience; that use locals to collect data in otherwise hard-to-access places and to ‘ground truth’ global climate models – all carry climate change science to myriad ‘lands on the margin’. For some, this is part of the important work of ‘scaling down’ global climate change science, rendering it real and relevant to people’s lives, marrying human values and scientific facts. But – and here’s the point – this is less a matter of scaling down a global science than of scaling up to produce it. For in each of these field research encounters, to ‘discover’ the Endangered Other – local, particular, and possessed of a unique culture – is to reveal, renew, and enhance his Other, which came along for the ride: a global, universal, and natural climate science. Neatly packaged in the academic artefacts produced in these encounters, and dispatched to the centres of calculation, the accumulating piles of ‘locals’ stand testament to an increasingly global, universal, and relevant climate change science they produce. Big, universal, global science needs small, particular, local data to make it so. The Endangered Other was overdetermined in this arena from the start. This overdetermination is multifaceted, and becomes even clearer when we recall that ‘science’ and ‘society’ were never separate entities. For this arena is not made up solely of science and scientists, but of many other actors, forces, and discourses, too. These include policy-makers, funders, functionaries, and, crucially these days, faraway ‘locals’, all of whom live in today’s world wherein global institutions and environmental governance regimes have rediscovered ‘the local’ (Martello & Jasanoff 2004), and fundamentally enabled ‘the return of the native’ (Kuper 2003). The Endangered Other thus does further crucial work in this arena: he provides a widely spoken Creole (see Galison 1996) that enables a remarkable range of actors to converse and converge around an ancient Euro-American tale, but with a contemporary twist. In this diverse and densely populated climate change workplace, the Endangered Other is readily recognizable to all, and is ready for immediate deployment by practitioners of accountable science. Conclusion

By attending to the knowledge practices and outcomes of human dimensions of climate change research, we have sought to capture and reflect on an evolving form of accountable science. In so doing we are not suggesting that the familiar features of accountable science are in fact new. The movement of ideas, methods, and scholars across disciplinary ‘boundaries’ is a characteristic feature of new knowledge production within the academy; ‘society’ has always been embedded within scholarly activities in varied ways; the ‘real world’ has long been an abiding concern. Neither is the discursive production of the various features of ‘accountable science’ as new really new: we academics have long been noisily rolling up our metaphorical shirtsleeves to solve real-world problems (see Strathern 2006). Nevertheless, exploring some of the relations through which the human dimensions enterprise produces knowledge suggests that the C



enterprise is very much a product of the twenty-first-century academy. By considering the interplay between new and old, implicit and explicit, discourse and practice, it becomes clear how this particular contemporary accountable science – and no doubt others – can produce and sanction tired and troublesome knowledge. Accountable science aims to address complex problems, of which climate change is perhaps the most complex. Complex problems summon all knowledges. But knowledges do not float free from their contexts of production, and cannot arrive any old way. They travel well-worn paths, and are preconditioned by other academic knowledges, knowledge-producing apparatuses, and institutional arrangements. Key among these is the division between nature and society, which underpins the division between the natural and social sciences, and assigns to one side the study of physical and organic nature ‘out there’, and to the other, the realms of human existence. When the natural and social sciences join forces to solve our planetary emergency, they aim to create new knowledge by bridging and overcoming parochial disciplines and fragmented knowledge domains. Yet because these efforts unfold not in some ideal, deliberative, Habermasian space, but in an uneven real-world arena of pre-existing divisions and power relations, the outcome is not natures-cultures, but Nature and Culture; not glocal, but global and local; not anthropos in the Anthropocene, but Moderns and Traditionals. This blunt reassertion of the modern constitution and foundational divisions within the academy suggests that not all accountable science is as creative or transgressive as it intends to be. At the same time, our case study shows that accountable science can be remarkably transgressive in other ways, especially when it comes to accountability. The academy must be accountable to society, and this is often the explicit justification for human dimensions of climate change research. But staunch advocates of accountable science have been slow to appreciate the many ways accountability has always been implicated in academic knowledge practices. Thus can accountable science sometimes be truly transgressive, in its ability to overcome and dismantle pre-existing accountability mechanisms and relations. In this case, important accountability relations have been undone, while significant power relations and structures have not. These problems are not unique to human dimensions of climate change research. Nor are they easily resolved. This is because they are the product of the structures of the academy and our knowledge practices, and of the ever-escalating expectation – sometimes the requirement – that we do accountable science. This is ‘useful’, ‘impactful’, ‘transformative’, ‘policy-relevant’ research that produces knowledge in collaboration with other disciplines and non-academic stakeholders. As the social, political, and economic grounds on which we work shift beneath our feet, accountable science’s increasing institutionalization within the academy demands sustained attention. Enthusiasm notwithstanding, accountable science is no guarantee of accountability, and can sometimes occasion the opposite.

NOTES A version of this article was presented at the conference ‘Transfusion and Transformation: The Creative Potential of Interdisciplinary Knowledge Exchange’, 15-17 July 2014, Institute of Advanced Study (IAS), Durham University; we thank participants for their comments and the IAS for travel grants. We are also grateful to Matt Candea, Ilana Gershon, Maia Green, Tania Murray Li, and three anonymous reviewers for their incisive comments. We alone are responsible for any shortcomings that remain. 1 http://www.ref.ac.uk/.


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Accountability and the academy 455 2 While many aim to distinguish between trans-, cross-, multi-, and interdisciplinarity, our interest is with those academic knowledge practices explicitly driven by a ‘logic of accountability’ (Barry, Born & Weszkalnys 2008). 3 In 2012, for example, the CIDA-Canada Fund for African Resilience called for projects on the reduction of the impact of climate change, with a minimum budget per project of $2 million (http://www. international.gc.ca/development-developpement/partners-partenaires/calls-appels/climate-resilienceclimatique.aspx?lang=eng, accessed 9 December 2014). 4 Following these scholars’ lead in our description, we delineate our object of interest, while cleaving the enterprise from other sets of relations, literatures, and scholarly practices concerned with the human dimensions of climate change. There is, for example, a large armchair scholarship, some of which we discuss below, though our main concern is with its field-science forms. For brief overviews of the history and institutional contexts of the human dimensions of global environmental change, see Hogan (2007) and Mooney, Duraiappah & Largigauderie (2013). 5 One twenty-author paper, for instance, has seven academics, and thirteen non-academic collaborators (Pearce, Ford, et al. 2009). Examples abound: a chapter by three academics, a government employee, and ‘the community of Sachs Harbour’ (Jolly, Berkes, Castleden, Nicholls & the Community of Sachs Harbour 2002); another by an academic ‘with the communities of Aklavik, Arctic Village, Old Crow, and Fort McPherson’ (Kofinas with the Communities of Aklavik, Arctic Village, Old Crow & Fort McPherson 2002). 6 We use ‘he’ as a convenient shorthand, though the Endangered Other’s gendering is complex and context-dependent. In the Arctic climate change literature, he is exceedingly male. In the more recent human dimensions literatures from Africa, Asia, South America, and the South Pacific, this is not always so. 7 Variations include traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) and local ecological knowledge (LEK). 8 These critiques are many and varied. See, e.g., Barnett & Campbell (2010); Cameron (2012); Forbes & Stammler (2009); Hastrup (2009); Keskitalo & Kulyasova (2009); Lazrus (2009); Mortreux & Barnett (2009); Nuttall (2009); Nuttall et al. (2005); Wenzel (2009). 9 From IPCC website, ‘Organization’ (http://www.ipcc.ch/organization/organization.shtml#.UES6oo 4QgoU, accessed 8 December 2014). 10 Many who deploy the Endangered Other are familiar with political ecology, poststructural and postcolonial critiques, and routinely cite them. Some even edit special journal issues full of articles critiquing Endangered Other thinking (e.g. Ford & Furgal 2009). 11 Global climate models vary greatly. Their multiplicity and heterogeneity are managed with the notion of model hierarchy (IPCC 2007a: 67, 112-14). 12 http://www.genie.ac.uk/about/challenge.htm (accessed 23 May 2013, no longer available on-line). 13 For a recent, detailed account of the co-evolution of systems thinking and technological infrastructures in climate change science, see Edwards (2010). 14 While it is tempting to consider ‘system’ as a ‘boundary object’ (Star & Griesemer 1989), our conceptual model is not one of distinct social worlds that are bridged at the interstices. We have in mind, rather, a heterogeneous, power-laden arena of partial connections (Strathern 2004b) that is neither singular nor plural but somewhere in-between. 15 http://www.wmo.int/pages/themes/observations/index_en.html (accessed 8 December 2014). 16 http://www.earth-system-science-data.net/ (accessed 8 December 2014).

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De la responsabilité des chercheurs : produire des connaissances sur les dimensions humaines du changement climatique Résumé Les appels a` accroˆıtre la responsabilité et l’impact de la recherche remodèlent profondément celle-ci, tout en suscitant un vaste corpus critique consacré aux régimes néolibéraux de la responsabilité et a` leurs effets pernicieux. Ces exigences peuvent déboucher aussi sur d’autres formes et pratiques institutionnelles qui ont reçu une attention critique moindre. Celles-ci consistent notamment en de nouvelles formes de travail scientifique dans lesquelles le chemin de la responsabilité est censé passer par l’interdisciplinarité, la collaboration avec les parties prenantes et la recherche de réponses aux problèmes du monde réel. Le présent article examine un exemple de cette « science responsable » : la dimension humaine dans la recherche sur le changement climatique. Cette recherche a donné des résultats surprenants, notamment l’adoption sans critique d’idées euro-américaines controversées sur les Autres traditionnels. En remontant a` la source de cette e´ volution, l’article examine, d’une part, la manière dont la diversité théorique et disciplinaire est gérée dans ce domaine, et d’autre part, la logique organisationnelle qui permet aux sciences du climat et a` leurs chercheurs de travailler ensemble. Les auteurs avancent que la science responsable, comme les autres formes néolibérales de responsabilité, a le potentiel de produire des résultats dont personne ne peut eˆ tre tenu responsable.

Elizabeth F. Hall is Research Associate at the Centre for Ethnography at the University of Toronto. She previously practised as a public health physician and worked as an academic epidemiologist at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine (UK) and the Dalla Lane School of Public Health (Canada).

Centre for Ethnography, Department of Anthropology, University of Toronto Scarborough, 1265 Military Trail, Scarborough, Ont., M1C 1A4, Canada. [email protected]

Todd Sanders is Associate Professor of Anthropology at the University of Toronto. Recent publications include (with H.L. Moore) Anthropology in theory: issues in epistemology (Second edition; Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) and Beyond bodies: rainmaking and sense making in Tanzania (University of Toronto Press, 2008).

Department of Anthropology, University of Toronto, 19 Russell Street, Toronto, Ont., M5S 2S2, Canada. [email protected]

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