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Indigenous Health in a Global Frame: From Community Development to Human Rights
Warwick Anderson
This essay explores the shift from 'human rights' to 'community development' in the framing of Koori (or Indigenous) health policy research at the University of Melbourne in the 1990s. It provides an overview of the recent history of rights-based discourses in international health, contrasting cosmopolitan claims of rights with older civic reference points for health intervention: such as 'citizenship' and 'community development.' In particular, it considers the relations of the conjunction 'health and human rights' to the global emergence during the past twenty years of nongovernmental organisations and their challenge to the power of the nation-state. This account draws heavily on the author's observation of the institutionalisation of rights discourses in health research programs at Melbourne and Harvard, vantage points that provide at best a partial perspective, but one that may nonetheless reveal some salient historical features.
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On a warm afternoon in March 1997, I went to the offices of the Victorian Health Promotion Foundation (VicHealth) on the site of the old Pram Factory in Drummond St, Carlton, to meet its alarmingly dynamic chief executive officer, Rhonda Galbally. Established in 1988 from the proceeds of a tax on tobacco, VicHealth had become a major sponsor of medical research and advocacy groups in Melbourne. I was new to soliciting institutional funding, so rather apprehensively and uncomfortably I wore a suit and tie. I wanted to introduce myself to Galbally and try to elicit some interest in a new program in health and human rights that would sit neatly inside the Centre for the Study of Health and Society (CSHS), which I had proposed at the University of Melbourne. After a year of importunate conversation and desperate pleading, it looked as though the CSHS would soon be established in the faculties of Arts and Medicine, Dentistry and Health Sciences—and as the putative director I wanted to fill it out, to supplement the conventional programs in bioethics, medical history, and health social sciences. |
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A few years earlier, I had been teaching in the departments of Social Medicine and History of Science at Harvard University, where the novel conjunction of health and human rights was all the rage. In 1993, Jonathan M. Mann established the François-Xavier Bagnoud Center for Health and Human Rights in the Harvard School of Public Health. Fresh from the Global Programme on AIDS at the World Health Organization (WHO), Mann sought to use human rights as a means of analysing and addressing health disparities. In September 1994, along with 350 other participants, I attended the first International Conference on Health and Human Rights, held at the Harvard Medical School campus. Closer to home in the Department of Social Medicine, a charismatic young doctor, Paul Farmer, was reporting on his community-based health project in Cange, on the central plateau of Haiti, which was called Partners in Health. In 1992 his first book, AIDS and Accusation, appeared, a compelling amalgam of political economy and liberation theology. The following year, Farmer received a coveted MacArthur Award, which he used to support the Institute for Health and Social Justice, the research and advocacy section of Partners in Health.1 Even in the early 1990s, the beginning of the convergence of these health projects in social justice and human rights was evident. In time, Jim Yong Kim, one of Farmer's associates in Partners in Health and another brilliant Harvard medical graduate, would come to direct the Bagnoud Center.
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Sitting in the VicHealth offices, some eleven years ago, I soon took off my jacket and loosened my tie. Galbally had already heard from Gordon Clunie, the innovative (though sadly evanescent) dean of Medicine, Dentistry and Health Sciences, that the University of Melbourne intended to support the proposal for the Centre for the Study of Health and Society, modelled on the Department of Social Medicine at Harvard. (No surprise, then, that in March 1998, Arthur Kleinman, the chair of the Department of Social Medicine at Harvard, would open the CSHS in Melbourne.) Perhaps naively, I was assuming in 1997 that any program in 'social medicine' would be predicated on social justice and correction of health disparities—a simple consequence, no doubt, of my recent observation of the work of Farmer and Kim at Harvard.2 So I chose to pitch instead a plan for a complementary program in health and human rights. It seemed particularly timely. I was vaguely aware of a couple of related initiatives occurring around Melbourne. In 1994, Rob Moodie had convened a symposium on health and human rights at the Macfarlane Burnet Centre for Medical Research at which Ian Anderson, a young Indigenous medico and social theorist, spoke along with some public health and legal academics from Monash and Melbourne universities.3 Moreover, Galbally herself was an active campaigner for disability rights, so I imagined she would be receptive to my somewhat inchoate plan. |
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Galbally and I talked animatedly for a few hours about various opportunities at Melbourne, but I could see that my argument for aligning health and human rights failed to gain traction. It was a failure of advocacy, not of responsiveness, since my case depended crassly on the Harvard example, not on any independent line of reasoning. Galbally grudgingly agreed to support a visit by Jonathan Mann in 1998. It never happened because Mann left the Bagnoud Center in 1997 and I became committed to other visitors—after the crash of Swissair Flight 111 in September 1998 it was, tragically, too late.4
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Toward the end of our conversation, Galbally surprised me. Was I prepared, she asked, to alter the proposal to emphasise Koori (Indigenous) health? While I had earlier written to her about the possibility of a separate position in Koori heath in the CSHS, I did not think to include it in the health and human rights project. Galbally, however, felt such a shift in focus would be consonant with the established interests of VicHealth—significantly (for this story) a state-based organisation—in 'Health Futures' and social capital.5
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In 1997, I proposed a program in health and human rights at the University of Melbourne, yet by the end of that year it was tentatively named the Unit for the Study of Koori Health and Human Rights, and within two years this had finally become—thanks to Ian Anderson's tireless efforts—the VicHealth Koori Health Research and Community Development Unit. Why did the shift from 'human rights' to 'community development' occur? What was its significance? In order to provide at least the hint of an answer to these questions, I need to provide a brief overview of the recent history of rights-based discourses in international health, contrasting cosmopolitan claims of rights with older civic reference points for health intervention: such as 'citizenship' and 'community development.' In particular, I will explore the relations of the conjunction 'health and human rights' to the global emergence during the past twenty years of nongovernmental organisations and their challenge to the power of the nation-state. It must already be evident that this account draws heavily on my own observation of the institutionalisation of rights discourses in health research programs at Melbourne and Harvard, vantage points that provide at best a partial perspective, but one that may nonetheless reveal some salient historical features.
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Jonathan Mann's experiences monitoring and attempting to prevent the global spread of AIDS led him to realise that the epidemic was as much a human rights problem as a medical challenge. Those most marginal, stigmatised, and vulnerable were most likely to contract and die early from the disease. Attention to human rights therefore seemed to offer both a powerful explanatory framework for understanding the epidemic and an appealingly generic set of guidelines for action. Advocacy of human rights potentially would help to contain disease, improve quality of life, and enhance longevity.6
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In the mid-1990s, Mann expatiated on his agenda in a series of articles. He deplored the contemporary concentration on therapeutics and expensive technical interventions, favouring instead the old truism of social medicine that poverty and social disadvantage were the chief generators of illness and death. But that was both too easy and too hard—no one was grandiose enough to make plans to eliminate poverty. 'The identification of socio–economic status as the “essential condition” for good health,' Mann and his colleagues wrote, 'paradoxically may encourage complacency, apathy and even policy and programmatic paralysis.'7
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Mann was concerned that public health lacked the toolkit to intervene socially and politically to remove underlying causes of diseases. Moreover, he wanted a mechanism that was readily transferable to various hot spots across the globe, something universal and coherent, not local and multiple. 'The human rights framework is indispensable both for analysing the central societal issues which must be confronted and for guiding the direction of the societal transformation needed to promote and protect health.'8 Such a framework included not just standard political rights relating to freedom from discrimination, oppression, violence, and torture. It might also encompass rights to food, clean water, shelter, and health services. 'Rights,' he often said, 'create entitlements.' In the past, state medicine was frequently associated with coercive tactics. Now, Mann was arguing public health could become a liberatory force, using 'non-coercive, voluntaristic approaches.' Opposing violations of human rights and dignity provided the global public health movement with a legitimate entry point into national political debate. A rights framework thus offered the best hope of responding in a standardised yet effective way to the social and cultural determinants of health and disease.9 |
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Boston in the 1990s proved fertile ground for discussion of health and human rights. A decade earlier, Jonathan Fine, a family doctor in the North End, had set up Physicians for Human Rights after visiting Chile on a mission investigating victims of torture. Carola Eisenberg, the dean of student affairs at the Harvard Medical School, joined the group when she returned in 1983 from witnessing human rights violations in El Salvador—many of her own relatives had been murdered in Argentina's dirty war.10 Her husband, Leon Eisenberg, the founder of the Department of Social Medicine, liked to nurture the careers of smart, socially conscious medical students and young doctors: Kleinman, Farmer, and Kim were among those he mentored. Harvard provided the institutional matrix for increasing numbers of physicians active in campaigns against torture and AIDS, as well as advocates of disability and reproductive rights. It did so as medical attention increasingly focused on the globalisation of disease threats (such as AIDS) and globalisation of biomedical practices and technologies. No wonder that in this setting a global health and human rights framework soon emerged. |
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The key node in this developing network was the Bagnoud Center. Together with Daniel Tarantola (now at the University of New South Wales) and Sofia Gruskin, Mann devised courses on a rights-based approach to international health activism and edited from 1994 a journal, Health and Human Rights. Initially the focus was on AIDS, though soon discussion of child and adolescent health and sexual and reproductive rights became more salient.11 In 1999, under the new director Stephen P. Marks, an international lawyer, the Center consolidated its interests in AIDS, reproductive rights, and child health into a systematic program in International Health and Human Rights, led by Gruskin, and added two programs, one on Humanitarian Crises and Human Rights and the other on Human Rights in Development. Gruskin's International Health and Human Rights program continued to emphasise political rights and ethical conduct, looking for breaches of privacy, informed consent, equal treatment, and freedom of choice. The Human Rights in Development program, led by Marks, asserted that people have a right to participate in development policies that improve their socio–economic status and wellbeing, including enhancing access to medical services.12 This claim resonated loudly with the arguments for social justice coming from Partners in Health.
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The Bagnoud Center and Partners in Health had more in common than their converging interests in social justice and human rights, especially around the issue of access to medical treatment. From the start, the leaders of each group seem to have had little time for cultural analysis, or respect for the anthropological commitments of an earlier generation of liberal physicians.13 Mann was seeking a culture-free means to identify and correct health disadvantage, while Farmer studied the political economy of health, often spurning the cultural discriminations of the medical anthropologists who taught him.
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From AIDS and Accusation to Poverty and Power and beyond, Farmer condemned both individualised ascription of blame and anthropological default to 'culture' to explain patterns of disease. Rather, he argued one should see through such admonitions and obfuscations to the underlying social, economic, and political causes of human suffering. The fascination with cultures—whether gay culture or African culture or Aboriginal culture—too often obscured the deeper workings of marginalisation, poverty, and other socio-economic factors. 'Culture' frequently seemed to offer some stereotype that conveniently excused medical failure and licensed apathy. Farmer wanted to identify instead the structural violence that restricted access to food, shelter, education, and health care—and intervene to act against it.14
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The influence of this political economy of health was felt more broadly at the turn of the last century. For example, Charles Briggs, a Berkeley anthropologist, and his partner Clara Mantini, a public health physician, criticised the 'racial profiling' or cultural pathologising in the 1990s of Indigenous victims of the Venezuelan cholera epidemic. Their book, Stories in a Time of Cholera, challenges us to ask 'why some people have the power to assign sanitary citizenship, and how rights and stigmas are distributed.' With the modern proliferation of the nation-state, some people seem to have the power to grant civic recognition and rights to a few individuals while others become powerless, excluded or marginalised, either 'incarcerated by culture' (to use Arjun Appadurai's phrase), or consigned to what Giorgio Agamben describes as the 'state of exception.' According to Briggs and Mantini, the task of critical global public health is to produce or encourage forms of sociality that exceed state narratives of citizenship—that supplement them in a deconstructive sense. To an extent, non-governmental organisations have started to do this. According to Briggs, globalisation 'enhanced the role of non-governmental organisations and increased the circulation of discourses of human rights, thereby enhancing efforts by persons with less access to power and material resources to transform notions of citizenship and to challenge institutions of the nation-state.'15 |
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What I am suggesting here is that the conjunction of health and human rights in the 1990s could serve to advance the interests of the expanding non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and corrode the authority, whether coercive or disciplinary, of the modern nationstate.16 One might even choose to describe this process as a sort of disciplinary succession and extension, perhaps even the substitution of global governmentality for national sovereignty.17 |
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If you think this impertinent or hyperbolic, take a look at the last annual report of the Bagnoud Center, now directed by Jim Kim from Partners in Health. Previously, Kim controlled the AIDS prevention and treatment activities of the World Health Organization, an intergovernmental organisation with nongovernmental tendencies. At the WHO, he was especially dedicated to ensuring better access to AIDS drugs in Africa. Since taking over the Bagnoud Center, Kim has greatly expanded training programs in health and human rights for organisations like the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). More generally, the goal is to enlist and mobilise health professionals in the global struggle against violation of human rights. In April 2007, Kim described the mission of the Center as the generation of 'global health leaders who can implement and scale up successful interventions guided by human rights principles.' He imagined Harvard creating a 'new science of Global Health Delivery,' which would 'analyze and overcome implementation gaps.' A proposed web-based network would allow 'global health practitioners to collaborate and engage in real-time problem solving on line.'18 Thus goes the declension from Thomas Paine's Rights of Man to brisk global instrumentalism.
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But surely these are welcome developments? Provocatively, Nancy Scheper-Hughes, another Berkeley anthropologist, urges caution. In her controversial study of the Cuban government's coercive measures to prevent the spread of AIDS, Scheper-Hughes argues that complaints about violation of 'human rights' usually assume a masculine perspective, putting poor heterosexual women at risk. The NGO demand for 'human rights' thus exported from the United States certain expectations of who counts as a sexual citizen, endangering other social bodies. According to Scheper-Hughes, the conventional emphasis on education and voluntarism in global AIDS prevention, along with the fetishising of condoms, is founded 'on a phallocentric sexual universe that ignores the especially vulnerable position of women, children, transvestites and other sexual “passives”.' In contrast, Cuba's violations of privacy and liberty protected the most vulnerable.19 So, she asks, when we assert 'human rights,' what sort of human do we have in mind? What sort of rights?
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I think Scheper-Hughes is criticising not the notion of rights as such, but the neo-colonial projection onto the world's population of a specific North American model of human rights. That is, she objects to the meretricious representation of a specific type of individuality or civic identity as universal. This bears a family resemblance to what Gayatri Spivak called the 'epistemic violence' of colonialism—but Scheper-Hughes, like the legendary anti-colonial psychiatrist Frantz Fanon, points to real damage to people's health from the unreflective imposition of Enlightenment categories.20 We are left wondering how to complete the treacherous crossing from the supposedly universal to the particular—or whether even to embark on it at all.
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In the Australian context, it is hard not to think of Aboriginal health at this point. Yet reference to Indigenous health has been surprisingly rare at the Bagnoud Center and in its journal, Health and Human Rights.21 Examination of the WHO's recent description of its work in human rights also is instructive. The WHO emphasises its campaigns against pathogenic traditional cultures (which give us genital mutilation and violence) and against state violations (which give us discrimination and torture). Of the five elements in its 2007 work plan, specific attention to the health and human rights of Indigenous peoples comes last. 22 I am not arguing that the proponents of health and human rights are not dedicated to improving Indigenous health. The point I want to make is that in a universalist schema the 'Indigenous' part of Indigenous health can become a fl oating or empty signifier—or rather, an ornamental placeholder for generic disadvantage and marginalisation.23
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When the problem of Indigenous health disparity is recognised, usually it is represented as yet another slot ready for standardised human rights. Indigenous health disadvantage is just one more index of the structural violence of the nation-state, which might be corrected through the intervention of non-governmental organisations guided by human rights principles. Perhaps this is all we need. Stephen Kunitz recently has held out hope that the new globalisation of human rights discourse may remedy the structural violence against Indigenous peoples wrought by the earlier globalisation of settler societies.24 But what has happened to Indigenous culture? And, more to the point, how do real Indigenous people fit in (or assimilate) to these cosmopolitan rights models? Are they expected now to cheer the brave new scientists of global health delivery marching into their communities, replacing those interventionist state agents?
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The assertion of specific Indigenous rights to health—or of any group or cultural rights for that matter—might seem inimical to the individualist orientation of liberal democratic societies. Yet there is surely no intrinsic reason against assigning rights to groups where benefits accrue to individual members. Indeed, it may often be the most effective strategy to advance the rights of individuals.25 All the same, Indigenous rights are usually treated in a corporate sense, with the unitary entity ascribed moral standing, rather than regarded as a collective claim, where individual members have moral standing. That is, claims of group rights promote the equality of peoples, enabling Indigenous groups to address social and economic disadvantages, and advance wellbeing, in their own terms.26 As the philosopher Duncan Ivison puts it, 'Aboriginal rights refer to those powers and capacities that are a necessary (though hardly sufficient) condition of Aboriginal peoples being treated equally, given the legacy of colonialism and the challenges they face today in living decent lives according to their own lights.'27 This reminds me of Judith Butler's longing for an attitude toward universals that recognises their contestable, as well as practical and strategic, features—not relativism, but universalism in context.28 |
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The idea of specific group rights might therefore provide an entry point and distinguishing program for some Indigenous people. In a reflective essay, Marks praised Farmer for his dedication to economic and social rights in opposition to structural violence, hoping forlornly that the anthropologist would one day add cultural rights to his concerns. 'The increasing willingness to take economic, social and cultural rights seriously,' Marks wrote in 2002, 'is critical to the productive linking of health and human rights.'29 Significantly, in the most thorough engagement to date with the problems of Indigenous people of any article in Health and Human Rights, Ingrid Barnsley also called for an emphasis on collective rights in implementing Indigenous health reform, with greater involvement of the victims of structural violence and provision of culturally appropriate services. 'It will be necessary,' she told startled readers in 2006, 'to consider the incorporation of Indigenous viewpoints into the research agenda itself.'30
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Harvard is hardly known for its attention to Indigenous agency, but not all institutions in settler societies are so well insulated. In 2004, Ian Anderson, by then the director of the VicHealth Koori Health Research Unit and my successor at the CSHS, convened a session on Indigenous health and human rights at a Melbourne conference exploring the general potential of rights discourse for improving the health of marginalised populations. With Bebe Loff, he wrote an article for the Lancet, urging recognition of special Aboriginal collective rights and 'capacity for self-government' in health matters. 'Indigenous Australians have a distinct political history and rights flowing from their status as a colonised population,' they wrote.31 Meanwhile, Tom Calma, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander social justice commissioner, has also argued for the special collective dimensions of the right to health and for the connection of human rights and participatory development processes in Aboriginal Australia.32 This is altogether a far cry from the recognition of human rights as a reward for simulated cultural sameness—but as yet this critical postcolonial perspective, this decolonising intervention, has had little global impact. It may be, as Mann feared, that any fragmentation or specification of claims for universal human rights lessens their broader appeal and serviceability.
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Let me return now to that moment some ten years ago when Ian Anderson and I were talking about what was then the novel conjunction of Indigenous health and human rights. In June 29, 1997, Ian sent me an email:
The way in which we have developed this proposal, the human rights section … has assumed an Aboriginal focus. Initially I thought that the proposal would be better if it separated the Koori health and the health and human rights components more clearly. But the more I think about this, it would seem that forging a fundamental linkage between these two aspects adds considerably to the value and innovation of the proposal…. There is no Aboriginal health research with such a focus.33
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| Eventually, however, we realised that reference to social capital and community development would prove more appealing in the contemporary Victorian policy environment. The invisible hand of Amitai Etzioni, the communitarian thinker, was keenly felt in Melbourne at the time.34 Certainly it seemed that normative communitarian aspirations better matched the goals of a state-based organisation like VicHealth, which remained committed, after all, to a nation-building program.35 |
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Was this a missed opportunity in Melbourne? I wonder now if the proposal was premature. If it had been up to me, I expect we would have ended up with a pale imitation of the Bagnoud Center. I doubt I had sufficient distance from Harvard in those days. Of course, I was not alone.
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Just before Arthur Kleinman opened the Centre for the Study of Health and Society, more than ten years ago, I told him that our then vice-chancellor liked to refer to Melbourne as the Harvard of the south. With some cheek, Kleinman began his speech as follows: 'I come from Harvard, or as we like to say, the Melbourne of the north.' It got a good laugh, but of course Melbourne is not Harvard and Harvard, no matter how hard it tries, will never be Melbourne. Perhaps it is time, then, for Melbourne or some other Australian centre to make history in developing, with Indigenous leadership, a culturally grounded model of health and human rights.
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| University of Sydney |
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Acknowledgements |
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I would like to thank Ian Anderson and Marilys Guillemin for inviting me to deliver and earlier version of this essay on the tenth anniversary of the establishment of the Centre for Health and Society. Mick Gooda was the commentator on that occasion. I also presented this paper to the Department of History of Science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where Tom Broman, Vic Hilts, and Richard Keller made especially helpful suggestions. I am grateful to Duncan Ivison for his generous engagement with the arguments of the essay. |
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Notes
1. Paul Farmer, AIDS and Accusation: Haiti and the Geography of Blame (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992). See also Tracy Kidder, Mountains Beyond Mountains: Healing the World, the Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer (New York: Random House, 2003).
2. On the tradition of social medicine, see Dorothy Porter, Health, Civilization, and the State: A History of Public Health from Ancient to Modern Times (London: Routledge, 1999).
3. Rob Moodie, “The Continuum of Health and Human Rights Issues,” Health and Human Rights 1 (1995): 295–7. Bebe Loff, a human rights lawyer in the Department of Epidemiology and Preventive Medicine at Monash, and Diane Otto, director of the International Human Rights Law Program at Melbourne, were also among the presenters. By the time I arrived in Melbourne, Moodie was in Geneva, directing country support for the United Nations Programme on AIDS.
4. Anon., “In memorium: Jonathan Mann, 1947–1998,” Health and Human Rights 3 (1997): 127–36.
5. Warwick Anderson, Notes on conversation with Rhonda Galbally, 14 March 1997, in author's possession. See also Rhonda Galbally, Just Passions: The Personal is Political (Sydney: Pluto Press, 2004).
6. Jonathan Mann, Daniel Tarantola, and Thomas Netter, eds, AIDS in the World (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1992).
7. Jonathan M. Mann et al., “Health and Human Rights,” Health and Human Rights 1 (1994): 6–23, 20.
8. Jonathan M. Mann, “Human Rights and the New Public Health,” Health and Human Rights 1 (1995): 229–33, 231.
9. Jonathan Mann, Seminar, Department of Social Medicine, Harvard Medical School, 8 April 1997, typescript in author's possession.
10. H.J. Geiger and R.M. Cook-Deegan, “The Role of Physicians in Confl icts and Humanitarian Crises: Case Studies From the Field Missions of Physicians for Human Rights, 1988–1993,” JAMA 270 (1993): 616–20; and Kari Hannibal and Robert S. Lawrence, “The Health Professional as Human Rights Promoter: Ten Years of Physicians for Human Rights (USA),” Health and Human Rights 2 (1996): 110–27. Fine had been active in Physicians for Social Responsibility and International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War.
11. See also Jonathan Mann, Sofia Guskin, Michael A. Grodin, and Geoge J. Annas, eds, Health and Human Rights: A Reader (New York: Routledge, 1999); and Sofia Guskin, Michael A. Grodin, George J. Annas, and Stephen P. Marks, eds, Perspectives on Health and Human Rights (London: Taylor and Francis, 2005).
12. Stephen Marks, “The Human Right to Development: Between Rhetoric and Reality,” Harvard Human Rights Journal 17 (2004): 139–68. See also Amartya Sen, Development as Freedom (New York: Knopf, 1999); and Mushumi Basu, Archna Negi, and Arjun K. Sengupta, eds, Reflections on the Right to Development (New Delhi: Sage, 2005); and Bard Anders Andreasson and Stephen P. Marks, eds, Development as a Human Right: Legal, Political, and Economic Dimensions (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2006).
13. For example, Arthur Kleinman, The Illness Narratives: Suffering, Healing, and the Human Condition (New York: Basic Books, 1988).
14. Farmer, AIDS and Accusation, Infections and Inequalities: The Modern Plagues (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999); and Pathologies of Power: Health, Human Rights, and the New War on the Poor (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003).
15. Charles L. Briggs with Clara Mantini-Briggs, Stories in a Time of Cholera: Racial Profiling during a Medical Nightmare (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 320, 309. See also Arjun Appadurai, “Putting Hierarchy in its Place,” Cultural Anthropology 3 (1988): 36–49; and Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998).
16. For example, Jonathan Mann, The World Health Organization and Global Health: Toward a New World Order? (New York: Columbia School of Public Health, 1994). See Theodore M. Brown and Elizabeth Fee, “The World Health Organization and the Transition From 'International' to 'Global' Public Health,” American Journal of Public Health 96 (2006): 62–72.
17. For example, Michel Foucault, The Foucault Effect: Studies in Governmentality, edited by Graham Burchell, Colin Gordon, and Peter Mitchell (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991); and Colin Gordon et al., trans., Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977, by Michael Foucault (New York: Pantheon, 1980). Such analysis has limitations, now that many NGOs have turned their attention also to the rights abuses of transnational corporations, including pharmaceutical companies.
18. New Directions: Summary of Activities from the François-Xavier Bagnoud Center for Health and Human Rights. Harvard School of Public Health, April 1997. Available at www. hsph.harvard.edu/fxbcenter (accessed 2 March 2008).
19. Nancy Scheper-Hughes, “AIDS and the Social Body,” Social Science and Medicine 19 (1994): 991–1003, 995. See also Dianne Otto, “Rethinking the 'Universality' of Human Rights Law,” Columbia Human Rights Law Review 29 (1997): 1–46.
20. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?” in Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, edited by Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), 271–313; and Frantz Fanon, “Medicine and Colonialism,” in The Cultural Crisis of Modern Medicine, edited by John Ehrenreich (New York: Monthly Review
21. Press, 1978), 229–51. See also Warwick Anderson, Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2006).
22. But see Gracelyn Smallwood, Colin White, and Michael Kotiw, “The Relevance of Human Rights to Health Status in Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Communities,” Health and Human Rights 2 (1997): 127–36.
23. See the website www.who.int/hhr (accessed 2 March 2008).
24. Claude Lévi-Strauss, Introduction to Marcel Mauss (London: Routledge, 1987 [1950]), 63–4.
25. Stephen J. Kunitz, “Globalization, States, and the Health of Indigenous Peoples,” American Journal of Public Health 90 (2000): 1531–9.
26. Peter Jones, “Human Rights, Group Rights and Peoples' Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly 21 (1999): 80–107.
27. Sam Garkawe, Loretta Kelly, and Warwick Fisher, eds, Indigenous Human Rights (Sydney: Sydney Institute of Criminology, 2001); and Ronald Niezen, The Origins of Indigenism: Human Rights and the Politics of Identity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003). On new mobilisations of the moral weight of communities and groups, not individuals, see Partha Chatterjee, “Empire and Nation Revisited: Fifty Years After Bandung,” Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 6 (2005): 487–96.
28. Duncan Ivison, “The Logic of Aboriginal Rights,” Ethnicities 3 (2003): 321–44, 328. See also Duncan Ivison, “Emergent Cosmopolitanism: Indigenous Peoples and International Law,” in Between Cosmopolitan Ideals and State Sovereignty: Studies in Global Justice, edited by Ronald Tinnevelt and Gert Verschraegen (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 120–31.
29. Judith Butler, “Competing Universalities,” in Contingency, Hegemony, Universality: Contemporary Dialogues on the Left, by Judith Butler, Ernesto Laclau, and Slavoj Zizek (London: Verso, 2000), 136–81.
30. Stephen P. Marks, “The Evolving Field of Health and Human Rights: Issues and Methods,” Journal of Law, Medicine and Ethics 30 (2002): 739–54, 751. See also Paul Farmer and J. Gastineau, “Rethinking Health and Human Rights: Time for a Paradigm Shift,” Journal of Law, Medicine and Ethics 30 (2002): 655–66.
31. Ingrid Barnsley, “The Right to Health of Indigenous Peoples in the Industrialized World: A Research Agenda,” Health and Human Rights 9 (2006): 43–54, 50. Briggs and Mantini-Briggs suggested at least as much in the conclusion to Stories in a Time of Cholera.
32. Ian Anderson and Bebe Loff, “Voices Lost: Indigenous Health and Human Rights in Australia,” Lancet 364 (2004): 1281–2, 1282. The International Symposium on Human Rights and Public Health, organised by Pascale Allotey and Loff, took place 3–5 November 2004. Gruskin was a keynote speaker. More recently Ian Anderson has pointed out that corporate group rights claims can 'frame the relationship between Indigenous people and the state' (“Indigenous Australia and health rights,” Journal of Law and Medicine 15 (2008): 760–72, 770).
33. Tom Calma, “Achieving Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Health Equality Within a Generation – A Human Rights Approach,” Australian Human Rights Commission, www.humanrights.gov.au/social_justice/health/health_summary.html#the_human (accessed 18 March 2008), 2005. Significantly, Daniel Tarantola's Initiative for Health and Human Rights at UNSW, unlike the Bagnoud Center, explicitly claims to build on contributions from 'members of communities who are denied access to health and human rights,' including Aboriginal communities. See www.ihhr.unsw.edu.au/initiative.html (accessed 2 March 2008).
34. Ian Anderson, email message to author, 29 June 1997.
35. See Amitai Etzioni, Moral Dimension: Toward a New Economics (New York: Free Press, 1990), and The Spirit of Community: The Reinvention of American Society (New York: Touchstone, 1994); and Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1980). It would be interesting to explore further the alignment of discourses on human rights and community development with existing local Indigenous activism around self-determination and sovereignty, but such analysis requires greater familiarity with contemporary Koori politics than I possess.
36. When Rob Moodie became chief executive officer at VicHealth in 1998, he made sure the organisation asserted health as a 'fundamental human right,' but its programs changed little, despite sponsorship of a number of conference and seminars on health and human rights. |
My Interest in the History of Medicine
Warwick Anderson
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In the early 1980s, I graduated in medicine from the University of Melbourne, and then began training in pediatrics at Melbourne and Oxford, England. During a period of medical practice in the suburbs of Melbourne, I drifted back toward the University of Melbourne, taking classes in a desultory fashion in the Department of History and Philosophy of Science. Unexpectedly, I soon was lured to the United States, where I did my PhD in the history of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. It proved a slippery slope, as they say. |
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Why history of medicine? It's hard to say. I enjoyed Harold Attwood's musings on the subject when I was a medical student but it was not a life-changing experience. I actually liked working as a doctor (which I continued to do intermittently until 1999). Moreover, I had to overcome the disability of having a father who is an historian. But once I got started it just seemed my forte, in a way that clinical practice never did. |
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My dissertation was on science and public health in the colonial Philippines. I was especially interested in the way medicine framed ideas about race and citizenship during the American period. In a sense, I was extending my earlier, somewhat preliminary, studies of tropical medicine in northern Australia—I'd soon found out that American scholars were marginally more interested in the Philippines than Australia, so I shifted sites. A rather opportunistic decision, it turned out to be very rewarding, as the Philippines was the crucible for the creation of 'modern' tropical medicine. It also gave me an excuse to hang out some more in Southeast Asia, which I'd been doing since I was a teenager. |
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In 1992, I joined the faculty of the Department of the History of Science at Harvard University, with a secondary appointment in the Department of Social Medicine at the Harvard Medical School. After three years at Harvard, I returned to the University of Melbourne to join the Department of History and Philosophy of Science, where I taught history of medicine and biology, and founded the Centre for the Study of Health and Society (CSHS). At the CSHS, based in the Faculty of Medicine, Dentistry and Health Sciences, I felt compelled to assist in establishing various teaching and research programs in medical ethics, health social sciences, and Koori health policy—as well as reviving the medical history program and museum, and founding Health and History. Somehow I found time to write a book—The Cultivation of Whiteness (MUP 2002 & 2004; Basic Books 2003; Duke UP 2006)—on medical and scientifi c ideas about whiteness in Australia. |
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At Melbourne, having convened the Health and Society Task Group for the new medical curriculum, I learned that involvement in one major medical curriculum reform was more than enough for one lifetime. No wonder, then that in January 2001, I joined the Department of Anthropology, History and Social Medicine at the University of California at San Francisco (UCSF), with a secondary appointment in the History Department at Berkeley. At UCSF, I directed the history of health sciences graduate program and the Center for Humanities and Health Sciences, a campus-wide humanities center. I was also Vice-Chair of the department, and a member of the Culture and Behavior Committee for the new medical curriculum (no escape!). |
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Maintaining the life of an intellectual vagabond, I soon moved to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where I was Robert Turell Professor of Medical History and Population Health, Chair of the Department of Medical History and Bioethics, and Professor of the History of Science. I also found time to engage with the large and active groups of scholars there in Southeast Asian studies and science and technology studies. The winters gave me plenty of opportunity for indoor study and rumination. I completed Colonial Pathologies: American Tropical Medicine, Race, and Hygiene in the Philippines (Duke UP 2006) and The Collectors of Lost Souls: Turning Kuru Scientists into Whitemen (Johns Hopkins UP 2008). The latter was begun while I was the Frederick Burkhardt fellow at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, in 2005–6 (a long way from Einstein's office). |
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Many years ago a colleague at Harvard told me it was about time I got Australia 'out of my system.' But I guess I've failed. Last year, I took up a research professorship in the Department of History and the Centre for Values, Ethics and the Law in Medicine at the University of Sydney. I hope my moving days are now over. When I first drifted into the history of medicine some twenty years ago, I thought: 'there goes the career.' But it turns out history of medicine has been kind to me. |
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