Ethnographic Encounters and Discoveries – serie

An exploration of how age affects the experience and life prospects of asylum-seekers in Germany.  Heartbreaking images of children in distress have propelled some of the most urgent calls for action on immigration crises, and that compassion often affects how state asylum policies are structured. In Germany, for example, the immigration system is engineered to protect minors, which leads to unintended consequences for migrants.  In Forever 17, Ulrike Bialas follows young African and Central Asian migrants in Germany as they navigate that system. Without official paperwork or even, in many cases, knowledge of their exact age, migrants must decide how to present their complicated life stories to government officials. They quickly realize that their age can have an outsized effect on the outcome of their cases. A migrant under 18, for example, can’t be deported, but might instead be placed in a youth home, where they will be subject to strict curfew laws. An 18-year-old adult, on the other hand, can get permission to work, but not opportunities to go to school.  Regardless of their age—actual or assumed—migrants face great difficulties. Those classified as minors must live with the psychological burden of being treated like children, while those classified as adults must live without the practical support and legal protections reserved for minors. The significance of age stands in stark contrast to the ambiguities inherent in its determination. Though Germany’s infamous bureaucracy is designed to issue clear statements about refugees and migrants, the truth is often more complicated, and officials are forced to grapple with the difficult implications of their decisions. Ultimately, Bialas shows, policies surrounding asylum seekers fall dramatically short of their humanitarian ideals. Even those policies designed to help the most vulnerable can lead to outcomes that drastically limit the possibilities for migrants in real need of protection and keep them from leading fulfilling lives.

An exploration of how age affects the experience and life prospects of asylum-seekers in Germany.  Heartbreaking images of children in distress have propelled some of the most urgent calls for action on immigration crises, and that compassion often affects how state asylum policies are structured. In Germany, for example, the immigration system is engineered to protect minors, which leads to unintended consequences for migrants.  In Forever 17, Ulrike Bialas follows young African and Central Asian migrants in Germany as they navigate that system. Without official paperwork or even, in many cases, knowledge of their exact age, migrants must decide how to present their complicated life stories to government officials. They quickly realize that their age can have an outsized effect on the outcome of their cases. A migrant under 18, for example, can’t be deported, but might instead be placed in a youth home, where they will be subject to strict curfew laws. An 18-year-old adult, on the other hand, can get permission to work, but not opportunities to go to school.  Regardless of their age—actual or assumed—migrants face great difficulties. Those classified as minors must live with the psychological burden of being treated like children, while those classified as adults must live without the practical support and legal protections reserved for minors. The significance of age stands in stark contrast to the ambiguities inherent in its determination. Though Germany’s infamous bureaucracy is designed to issue clear statements about refugees and migrants, the truth is often more complicated, and officials are forced to grapple with the difficult implications of their decisions. Ultimately, Bialas shows, policies surrounding asylum seekers fall dramatically short of their humanitarian ideals. Even those policies designed to help the most vulnerable can lead to outcomes that drastically limit the possibilities for migrants in real need of protection and keep them from leading fulfilling lives.

An examination of how novice psychiatrists come to understand the workings of the mind—and the nature of medical expertise—as they are trained in psychotherapy.  While many medical professionals can physically examine the body to identify and understand its troubles—a cardiologist can take a scan of the heart, an endocrinologist can measure hormone levels, an oncologist can locate a tumor—psychiatrists have a much harder time unlocking the inner workings of the brain or its metaphysical counterpart, the mind.  In From Skepticism to Competence, sociologist Mariana Craciun delves into the radical uncertainty of psychiatric work by following medical residents in the field as they learn about psychotherapeutic methods. Most are skeptical at the start. While they are well equipped to treat brain diseases through prescription drugs, they must set their expectations aside and learn how to navigate their patients’ minds. Their instructors, experienced psychotherapists, help the budding psychiatrists navigate this new professional terrain by revealing the inner workings of talk and behavioral interventions and stressing their utility in a world dominated by pharmaceutical treatments. In the process, the residents examine their own doctoring assumptions and develop new competencies in psychotherapy. Exploring the world of contemporary psychiatric training, Craciun illuminates novice physicians’ struggles to understand the nature and meaning of mental illness and, with it, their own growing medical expertise.

An examination of how novice psychiatrists come to understand the workings of the mind—and the nature of medical expertise—as they are trained in psychotherapy.  While many medical professionals can physically examine the body to identify and understand its troubles—a cardiologist can take a scan of the heart, an endocrinologist can measure hormone levels, an oncologist can locate a tumor—psychiatrists have a much harder time unlocking the inner workings of the brain or its metaphysical counterpart, the mind.  In From Skepticism to Competence, sociologist Mariana Craciun delves into the radical uncertainty of psychiatric work by following medical residents in the field as they learn about psychotherapeutic methods. Most are skeptical at the start. While they are well equipped to treat brain diseases through prescription drugs, they must set their expectations aside and learn how to navigate their patients’ minds. Their instructors, experienced psychotherapists, help the budding psychiatrists navigate this new professional terrain by revealing the inner workings of talk and behavioral interventions and stressing their utility in a world dominated by pharmaceutical treatments. In the process, the residents examine their own doctoring assumptions and develop new competencies in psychotherapy. Exploring the world of contemporary psychiatric training, Craciun illuminates novice physicians’ struggles to understand the nature and meaning of mental illness and, with it, their own growing medical expertise.

Gentrification is not inevitable, reveals Sharon Cornelissen, in this surprising, close look at the Detroit neighborhood of Brightmoor and the harsh reality of depopulation and urban decline. In the minds of many, Detroit is undergoing a renaissance thanks to gentrifying urbanites who’ve been drawn to the city with the promise of cheap housing and thriving culture. But what happens when gentrification attempts to come to one of the most depopulated neighborhoods in the country—a place where every other property in the neighborhood was a vacant lot and every third house stood empty? To find out, Sharon Cornelissen moved to the Brightmoor neighborhood of Detroit for three years and became the owner of a $7,000 house.  The Last House on the Block takes us to Brightmoor to meet Cornelissen’s fellow residents. She introduces us to the long-time residents of the neighborhood who reveal their struggles to keep a home while keeping violence, tall grass, and yes—gentrification—at bay. We also meet the eclectic white newcomers of Brightmoor and learn about their real estate bargains, urban farms, and how they became the unlikely defenders of urban desolation. Where oldtimers take pride in neatly mowed lawns and hope for a return to residential density, newcomers love the open space and aim to buy more empty lots to raise chickens and goats. It is a story of gentrification, but not at all in the usual sense: it is a case of failed gentrification. We often think about gentrification as an unstoppable force—once the first white newcomers with yoga mats enter an often brown or Black community, the coffee shops and restaurants follow. But in Brightmoor, the dreams of white newcomers met the harsh reality of decade-long decline. Nearly a decade after Cornelissen’s fieldwork began, Brightmoor is even emptier than it was when she started.    Today, depopulation remains more common than gentrification in poor communities. Cornelissen’s story offers deep insights into what it is like to live in a declining neighborhood, and through the example of Brightmoor, Cornelissen reveals why depopulation continues and helps us imagine a more inclusive and equitable city turnaround.

A sobering assessment of the systematic failures of mental health work.The United States is in the midst of a mental health crisis that cannot be ignored. Its effects are visible in overcrowded emergency rooms, homeless encampments, and frequent police encounters responding to people with serious mental illness. And yet, the many ways we attempt to support people with mental illness—from medical care to housing support to basic hygiene—seem to never take meaningful hold. All this despite the tireless work of professionals who attempt to help people bring together the pieces of a life. The problem is not in any individual effort to ameliorate the problem; it’s the many ways these programs fail to work together. For those with serious mental illness, and those who work to ameliorate it, there is no system. There is only mess. In A Mad Mess, sociologist Owen Whooley uncovers the exasperating barriers, bureaucratic mismatches, and threadbare resources that have made a mess of what should be a supportive system. Set in Albuquerque, New Mexico—a city whose struggles echo communities nationwide— the book reveals the challenges mental health workers face daily, from tedious paperwork to occasional violence. Whooley interviewed mental health workers at two local mental health services organizations, the specialized behavioral health division of the Albuquerque Police Department (APD), and a psychiatric emergency department at the University of New Mexico Hospital. Despite mostly good intentions and sometimes heroic efforts, he shows why this important work so often ends in failure. Written with deep sympathy and unflinching honesty, A Mad Mess reveals how the lack of a cohesive mental health system obstructs critical care and places roadblocks before front-line mental health workers at every turn. Most critically, for those who suffer from severe mental illness, these setbacks are a constant reminder that the institutions charged with helping them have left them on their own.