X Close

ASSA

Home

Anthropology of Smartphones and Smart Ageing

Menu

How to find a smartphone in Yaoundé

SimonAwondo Awondo14 February 2020

I arrived in Yaoundé on the evening of the 5th of February 2018. The next day, I went to a café in the city centre known to be one of the few that only serves local coffee and local sandwiches, with an emphasis on the ‘local’ label. For example, the café serves a ‘mboa burger’. The ‘mboa’, a term that comes from the Douala language (one of 170 recognised national languages), means ‘the country’ or ‘the land’. They also serve a ‘bissap’ juice and a ‘Foumban chicken sandwich’, the latter named after a city in the Western region of Cameroon from which the coffee served in the café originates. Foumban is also a city that is highly regarded for its agriculture and livestock.

I watched the street from inside the café. The street below is called ‘Anne-rouge climb’. It’s a pretty busy street, with shops on both sides selling clothes imported from China and Turkey. There is also stationery, micro-finance establishments and telephone shops. Here and there, ‘telephone credit’ sellers are sheltered under mobile phone operator-branded umbrellas, each one a different colour. The umbrellas that represent the South African operator MTN are yellow, the ones that represent the French operator Orange are (unsurprisingly) orange, while the local operator Camtel has blue umbrellas. Throughout the city, we find these colour codes wherever a credit seller (locally called a “call box”) sells credit, even if the seller is selling credit from several operators at the same time.

Different mobile phone operators’ colours in Yaoundé. Photo by Patrick Awondo (CC BY)

Different mobile phone operators’ colours in Yaoundé. CC BY Patrick AwondoKnowing that the “call-boxes” also sell other products as I myself am Cameroonian, I asked a coffee server if one of the sellers on the street below had SIM cards for sale. He answered yes. Having finished my coffee, I approached the first “call-box” asking whether they had  SIM cards.

“Do you want an Orange or an MTN card?” the seller asks.

“Whatever”, I said, “I just want a SIM card”.

A few minutes later, I had a new SIM card.

“If you want an Android phone, you just have to go down the street. Below, you will come across Kennedy Avenue. There are shops and phone sellers all over there. Whatever type of phone you want, you will find it there.”, he added.

The seller had anticipated that I would then immediately ask where I could quickly find a phone. In Yaoundé, and in the rest of the country, the “Android” phone (that is to say a phone equipped with the Android operating system), is the expression which is equivalent to the word smartphone. So if you ask a Yaoundean whether he or she has a smartphone, he or she will not answer you or will ask what a smartphone is, but if you refer to “an Android phone” they will immediately answer, quickly listing the different brands of Android phones.

I went down the “Anne-rouge climb” in the direction of Kennedy Avenue, following the instructions of the “call-boxer”, and then stopped at the crossroads of this very famous street of Yaoundé. The avenue is famous for its trade activity, which is mainly oriented towards the trade of computer products and smartphones. Here and there, on the pavement, a wide variety of items are on display. These are mainly products of Asian origin. Among these shopping streets, many young men in their late 20s or early 30s seem to be the main ‘players’ in this market. Hundreds of people come and go, and these young men challenge, hold your hand if necessary, offering you many products to choose from. There are smartphones of all brands; from the best known ones (iPhones, Samsungs, Huaiweis, Tecno, LG) to the least known, more obscure brands.

Man selling phone credit in Yaoundé. The South African mobile phone operator MTN is represented here by the yellow umbrella. Photo by Patrick Awondo (CC BY)

Kennedy Avenue, Yaoundé, Photo by Patrick Awondo (CC BY)

Some of the young traders have also got clothes on offer – everything from jeans and sports shoes to ‘city shoes’, costumes, shirts. Others have got chains and watches for sale. To promote their products, they present them as valuable items that only ‘travellers’ (voyageurs) know about. The category of the ‘voyageur’ is a category which in this context underline the fashionable dimension of the products , as well as their quality. If the traders treat you as a ‘voyageur’, they are trying to underline the quality of your clothes as much as the expectations linked to this status and its appearance. The ‘voyageur’ is demanding with regards to quality, which he or she supposedly knows about because he comes from Europe or elsewhere, but also because he is able to pay. The category is not in the least related to travel – it is a characteristic that one is supposed to reflect, as well as a commercial category, one that works to flatter the customer and raise the trader’s chances of getting a ‘higher bid’, as it were.

A young man calls me and asks me if I want a ‘real phone’. He emphasises that those offered on the street are for the ‘little ones’.

‘You are a big man, come and I sell you the real options’, he says.

By this, he means that the backyard and in the small, cramped shops that are in the small corridors of the avenue, is where the ‘real’, original products are. He adds : ‘Outside, it is the “bulk products” that people are selling. Since you haven’t found anything, because I’ve been watching you for a while, that means you’re looking for options. So I’m showing you a real phone with options.’

A few minutes later, we cross the street, followed by children who asked us if we could spare any change. In the dark corridors of a quite unsanitary-looking building, we arrived at a small shop where second-hand laptops of all brands were stored, as well as second-hand phones and a few USB drives, computer chargers, central units and discs. The young man introduced me to the seller, stressing that I am looking for an ‘option’. The seller, a man in his forties, took out 4 smartphones from under his small counter – two iPhones (a 6 and a 7), one Samsung Galaxy and a latest generation Motorola phone. ‘Voyageur, since you want the options, here’s what we have … but if they are not good, I can call for something else. We have everything here, but across several stores.’, he says.

Mobile phone seller in Yaoundé. Photo by Patrick Awondo (CC BY)

After paying 80,000 XOF (around €122), I came out with a used iPhone 6 that I quickly tried to test by introducing the SIM card I had bought at the call box earlier. It should be noted that in this business, there is no guarantee. The only real guarantee is often to establish a relationship with the seller and locate him and his partners in order to be able to return in the event of a problem.

What I have just described is a mundane scene from the city of Yaoundé. Kennedy Avenue is the centre of the life and traffic of the smartphone and the telephone more generally. People who want to buy a smartphone, whether new or used, would first go to this part of the city. It is a place recognised for the possibilities it offers, located in the heart of the downtown shopping district and considered locally to be the heart of “telephone culture” and digital life.

Below is a short video showing the phones that might be on offer in one of Yaoundé’s mobile phone shops:

“Not working? I would die…!”: on Peruvian migrants and their prospects on an acceptable retirement in Chile

Alfonso ManuelOtaegui30 January 2020

CC BY-NC Alfonso Otaegui

The pension system in Chile (Administradoras de Fondos de Pensiones, or AFP) is a capitalisation system run by private sector pension funds. Workers have to contribute a fixed percentage of their salary towards a fund that is used by a private AFP, which invests it and makes it grow (depending on the risks the worker is willing to take). Once the worker retires, this amount of money – which varies based on the worker’s contributions – is used to provide him or her with a very low salary. This system has been severely criticised, especially in the last few years, and its reform has been one of the main demands in the ongoing protests in Chile.

I interviewed retired Chilean older adults who agree that the pension they receive is insufficient for proper living. Some of them continue working part-time –or even full-time– after retirement. There are some retirees however, who do not have the opportunity to do this due to age-related frailties, or a lack of job offers. All of these Chilean retirees, whether still working or not, claimed to have always been “very organised” when it comes to managing their money (especially the ones who are no longer working). By ‘being organised’, they mean that they have either been putting money aside their whole working life or, more likely, that they bought an apartment or a house whose mortgage they were able to pay in full before retirement. The result of this cautious strategy is the same: once retired they do not have to pay rent; therefore, they are more likely to survive on their pensions.

This long-term strategy is actually feasible for those who have had a stable job for over 30 years, but what happens to migrants who might have been living in Chile for a long time, albeit not for enough time to have built up a savings pot? Even though these migrants have been working continuously, it is not unusual for them to change jobs during the first years in their new country, until they find one that suits their education and expectations.

During my fieldwork in Santiago, I met and talked to middle and upper middle class Peruvian migrants – workers who settled in Chile in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Although they have been living in the country for over 20 or 30 years and working continuously, they would not be able to live off their pensions and maintain the quality of life they have got used to.

In addition, some of them, during those long years of work, had not saved money for the long-term or bought an apartment, investing all their money into their children instead. Francisco, a 57 year old janitor, has been sending all his extra money to his children in Peru to pay for their studies. Martín, a 59 year old entrepreneur, invested all his money in the top educational institutions for his children here in Chile. Neither of them has an apartment of their own – they still rent. At the same time, neither of these two men regret their decisions: their family was a priority over their own future.

What struck me the most, however, is that when asked about their pensions, my informants answered that they were aware they wouldn’t receive an amount that they could realistically live on, something that did not come as a surprise to them. In a way, they already knew that long ago, when they moved to this country in their late thirties, without enough time ahead to build up a good retirement fund. Furthermore, their response went beyond the material aspect of retirement, revealing their attitude towards life. Almost none of the Peruvian migrants in this age range with whom I discussed this matter could picture themselves as retired. “Not working? I would die..!” replied assertively Ismael, a 65 year old engineer. This is almost the same response I got from Estela, a 65 year old nanny, who recently retired but still works three 8-10 hour shifts a week.

What does this almost stoic acknowledgement of the inability to retire tell us about these migrants’ perspective on life? My colleague Marilia Duque, who conducted fieldwork in a suburb in São Paulo, observed that for the people she spoke to, death was not a big issue. Rather, those older adults rather feared the loss of autonomy in later years: dependence was the new death. “Do nothing? I would go mad…!”, said another Peruvian migrant. This common trope hints at something deeper than merely not being able to afford a good retirement. It tells us that for these Peruvian hardworking migrants, inaction is the new death.

Woman, interrupted

Marilia Duque E SPereira9 January 2020

The “Menopause Kit” developed by Rosana Galvão, who has faced a decade of hot flushes. It includes an elastic hair band, a hair clip, a hand fan, tissues and a bottle of water. Photo (CCBY) Rosana Galvão.

 

Three weeks ago, The Economist published an article[i] addressing all the symptoms menopausal women face, often unnecessarily. The article talks about some of the arguments in favour of the hormone replacement therapy (‘HRT’ hereafter), highlighting that misinformation about the treatment can often lead to its demonisation. In the author’s words, HRT constitutes a “cheap, alternative” treatment with significant “long-term benefits” for women entering menopause.

The article also discusses the two publications that are responsible for various turning points in terms of the reputation of HRT in the past decades. The first book to discuss the symptoms caused by the deficiency of oestrogen and as well as its potential use in alleviating these symptoms was “Feminine Forever” by Robert Wilson, published in 1966. The second turning point was the publication of the study known as the Women’s Health Initiative (WHI hereafter), published in 2002. This publication was the first to seriously emphasise the harms caused by HRT and has had a long-term effect on the reputation of the treatment, associating it with an increased risk of breast cancer. According to a 2006 BMS (British Menopause Society) article, after the WHI study came out, ‘most women’ stopped having HRT. The most recent turning point in terms of the perception of HRT is the launch of the book “Oestrogen Matters” (2018). The book’s co-author Avrum Bluming (an oncologist) reframes the findings of the original WHI study, arguing that the women recruited for it were already unhealthy or well beyond the ideal age for starting HRT. This publication, along with other recent findings, may be the key to redeeming the previously controversial treatment after all. This is great news for those entering menopause now or in the near future, but what about those to the women who went through it in the last 20 years?

The WHI study has undoubtedly had a long-lasting effect on the reputation of HRT all over the globe. This includes Brazil, where I conducted a 16-month ethnography with older people, among them women aged 50 to 72. When the findings of the WHI study were published back in 2002, the Brazilian journal Folha de São Paulo[ii] published an article where the Brazilian Ministry of Health proudly informed its readership that the Brazilian public health system (called ‘SUS’) was aware of the risks involved in recommending HRT, only having done it for very specific situations or cases (such as when women were suffering from osteoporosis) since 1995. At the time, the Women’s Health Coordinator in the Brazilian Ministry of Health was quoted as saying: “The risks are bigger than the benefits. Any serious person would recommend the therapy with precaution”. It is interesting to note that in Brazil, menopause as an issue had been included on the public health agenda since 1993, as part of Brazil’s Women’s Integral Health Assistance Programme (PAISM)[iii]. This marked a shift in the overall approach to women’s health, from an emphasis that was previously focused on maternity, to a more holistic approach that took into consideration all stages of a woman’s life and health. This can be seen a consequence of the ageing of the population in the country.

Nowadays, the official guidance published by the Brazilian Ministry of Health, summarised in a document called the ‘Handbook of Care for Women in Menopause’[iv], recommends a mix of physical and educational activities as well as eating a special diet as the main approach to managing the menopause. The material also contains healthcare professional facing information, addressing therapies including hormonal treatment (followed by a discussion of its side effects), acupuncture, phytotherapy (a type of herbal medicine) and anthroposophic medicine (a distinct special therapy system that has recognition in some countries).

The Ministry of Health issued handbook also encourages women to be informed about the risks of HRT so they can make a decision about the type of therapy they want to have. From the perspective of the research participants in my field site (a middle-class neighbourhood in São Paulo), I can say that this is very much a secondary problem. This is because there is first of all a lack of reliable information and support about menopause in the first place, and about what its effects on a woman’s quality of life may be. A quarter of the women I interviewed had gone through it with no information or support, and confessed they didn’t have much time to pay attention to the changes in their bodies because they were focused on work or family. At the time (10 to 20 years ago), many of them were taking care of their children and older parents. Moreover, menopause is a taboo even among women. Some women I spoke to are from a generation that didn’t talk about menstruation or menopause with their mothers or with their cousins or friends. They were alone. Some of them only realised during the interview that the time they stopped having their menstruation actually coincided with the time they started to experience depression, insomnia, weight gain, and a loss of libido. Decades later, I can see that the new generation of menopausal women have started talking more about the subject, but the level of professional support hasn’t improved very significantly, especially for those who rely entirely on the public health system. Take Maria’s case: aged 52, she has been having hot flushes for a whole year, but she can’t say if she is experiencing menopause or not, because she has got her period twice during this time and her doctor says her diagnosis is unclear. Without professional support to guide her at this time, she has started drinking blackberry tea, while she trying to manage the embarrassment and discomfort she faces when the hot flushes come in public. The tea was recommended by her friends, who are her primary source of information. Maria asks them for advice, but each one tends to suggest different things, since they experience menopause in different ways with distinct symptoms.

Menopause is also a class issue in Brazil. The meaning attributed to menopause and the treatments available differ from one social class to the other.  A study conducted in a low-income and religious community in the Northeastern region of the country[v] showed that in the community in question, menopause can be seen as an act of God, with God being the one helping them accept it with resilience. In that specific example, women are subjected to a set of stigmas related to loss of fertility, leading to situations where some are seen as ‘dry women’ or even ‘non women’, primarily from the perspective of men. In a peripheric urban area of Sao Paulo, another study[vi] shows women experiencing menopause as a totally unexpected event, almost as if it is something one has ‘caught’, and is not directly associated with ageing. These women tend to use basic public health clinics to manage their physical symptoms without having access to a specific programme or assistance for menopausal women. In their case, HRT is rarely recommended because of its cost and because there is a gap in local resources that means clinics are not able to manage patients in a more long-term way – HRT would involve having routine medical tests, for example. Another study conducted in an upper middle-class neighbourhood in Rio de Janeiro[vii] shows that here, the situation couldn’t be more different: menopause is swiftly ‘treated’ with HRT almost by default, because these women are in the prime of their lives and want to get on with things. This doesn’t mean this group of women considers menopause something problematic or unnatural. They just want their bodies to have the ability to carry them through the new experiences and projects they aspire to do during this period of their lives – and they can afford to pay for it.

A moral dilemma

When access to information and the cost of treatment are not an issue, having HRT still seems to raise a moral dilemma that goes beyond the choice between hormones or cancer. Having HRT can be seen as an act of vanity or an irresponsible decision on the part of women who simply can’t accept the fact they have aged, with HRT symbolising the selfish and dangerous choice to pursue youth. The moralising dimension to the consequences of that choice can be seen in the following paragraph, taken from another official document published by the Brazilian Ministry of Health, the ‘National Policy for Integral Attention to Women’s Health’[viii]:

The medicalisation of women’s bodies, with the use of hormones during menopause, finds a fertile field in the female imagination due to the false expectations it places, such as eternal youth and beauty. Medicalising women’s bodies, in the name of science and supposed well-being, has always been a practice of medicine, which will only change when women are aware of their rights, of preventive and therapeutic possibilities and of the implications of different medical practices over their bodies. Oestrogen abuse for menopausal symptoms causes serious health problems, and women should be properly informed so that they can decide whether or not to do hormone replacement therapy.

In my field site, the moralising discourse around HRT is expressed even among women who do decide to have the treatment. Even as they describe the way in which they suffer from menopausal symptoms and how HRT provides them with a better quality of life, there is still an attempt to justify their choice using expressions like “I only used the bare minimum”,I only had it for a bit”, or “I wish I had prepared for menopause better with more natural alternatives”, quickly adding that they are either trying to quit HRT or have already done so.  Claudia, aged 65, is one of them. She is convinced that women don’t have to go through all the suffering menopause can bring, and that HRT is an important ally in supressing symptoms, but she too feels the need to emphasise that she doesn’t take it anymore, even if later in the interview she says she is still under treatment.

In the same National Policy for Integral Attention to Women’s Health, menopause is addressed as a challenging experience for women, who are now having to deal with the loss of their ability to have children as well as the end of their youth. Combined, these factors would be enough to trigger a crisis in some women, as highlighted in the paragraph below:

 “There is a systematic discrimination in our society based on people’s chronological age. In the case of women, this discrimination is most evident and occurs not only in relation to the physical body – fuelled by the overvaluation of motherhood in relation to other capacities and the myth of eternal youth – as in other aspects of life. In a patriarchal society where youth and beauty are related to success, entering “middle age” can give many women the impression that “it is all over”.”

I have had the opportunity to listen to the stories of seven women over 50 who don’t have children. Three of them had experienced fertility problems (either them or their husbands) although the couple decided to keep having sex without any intervention. The fourth woman I spoke to was married, but the couple decided not to have a child. The other three women were single. Two of them said they didn’t have a partner they could feel committed to and could start a family with and the third just can’t imagine herself being a mother. All of these women are now thinking about the children they didn’t have, but that is just because, like any other person at this stage in their lives, they have begun to think about who is going to take care of them when they get older. There is no evidence among these women or among my own female research participants that they are experiencing the feeling that “it is all over”. On the contrary, they are living their lives to their fullest and many of them are discovering new passions and engaging with new projects. While it is true that they complained about their bodies, this is not because they miss their beauty or their youth – in fact, they usually complain about the disposition they used to have (and for some, this includes the disposition for sex).

When sex matters

Menopause isn’t only about the end of motherhood or the loss of beauty. For some women, sex is huge part of their identity, although that is not true of the majority of the cases in my field site. Most women I spoke to recognised the changes in libido that they experienced after menopause and accepted them. In some cases however, the loss of libido can represent a sort of loss of the self. That was the case with Carla, aged 70, who had HRT for five years before her doctor decided it was time to stop the treatment, leading to her spiraling into depression, noticing changes in her hair and skin and also in her libido. Carla defines herself as a person that is extremely connected to sex.

Do you know a person who is good in bed? That is who I am, and I am not talking about sleeping. I know what pleases me, I know how to please my partner, and I know how to make him please me”, she says.

As an example of an upper middle-class participant, Carla challenged her doctor’s authority. She researched alternative doctors and found one who she knew was in favour of recommending HRT. She then pursued all the necessary tests in order to be prescribed the treatment again, and found that this enabled her to go back to who she was.

I am not just a statistic. I have the necessary tests every three months, and I have decided to take the risks”.

Another participant, Gisele (aged 61) like Carla really enjoyed sex, but her journey took her in the opposite direction. Her doctor didn’t recommend that she have HRT, given her family history of breast cancer and because she was a former smoker. “If there is even a 0.5% chance of getting breast cancer, I won’t take the risk”, she says. Since then, and despite 11 years of hot flushes, Gisele has tried to reinvent herself:

“I am glad I enjoyed sex so much, I am glad that I never held back. It was good because at least I have something to remember today. That person – me –  I really existed. Because it’s so hard today without any libido, zero. Where did all that desire go? Did I really live all that? Was it me? It was me, right? It’s very hard to recognise myself. So I’m in much need of psychotherapy, because it’s all so strange to me. How can I start to think about myself without sex?”

The original Economist article sums up the harm that can be caused to women’s bodies very well, noting that menopause can harm “brains, hearts and immune systems. It is associated with a higher risk of osteoporosis and fragility fractures, increased abdominal fat, and a heightened risk of contracting diabetes”. It is here that I would like to highlight the ways in which menopause can also harm women’s self, going well beyond the issues of motherhood, beauty, youth or diseases. In some cases, having or keeping a disposition for sex really matters to women, an aspect that I thought was missing in the original article. As the author says, “the symptoms of menopause can include hot flushes, depression, aches and pains, insomnia, anxiety and transient memory loss”. Indeed, but what about the loss of libido? In the study conducted in a peripheric urban area of Sao Paulo I mentioned before, women don’t think something like the loss of libido justifies the time and effort they would have to invest in scheduling a medical consultation and the researchers argue that even if they do so, they wouldn’t find a professional willing to listen to their sexual complaints. Even among my informants, women face the loss of libido with resilience, as if it was something they would expect at this age, or as if it was something they are not supposed to resist. Beyond the benefits for the symptoms of menopause and related chronic diseases, maybe that is something HRT could also challenge: the lack of attention paid to desire and sex in latter years of life. Not because women ‘need’ it, but because some of them want it.

 

 

 

[i] The Economist (2019, December 12). Managing Menopause: Million of women are missing out on hormone replacement therapy. https://www.economist.com/international/2019/12/12/millions-of-women-are-missing-out-on-hormone-replacement-therapy

[ii] Brasília Branch Office. (2002, July 12). F. de São Paulo.

https://www1.folha.uol.com.br/fsp/cotidian/ff1207200215.htm

[iii] Lopes, Cristina Garcia (2007). Integralidade na Saúde da Mulher – A questão do Climatério. Fiocruz. Fundação Oswaldo Cruz. Escola Nacional de Saúde Pública Sergio Arouca. Rio de Janeiro.

[iv] Handbook on Care of Woman in Menopause
Brasil. Ministério da Saúde. Secretaria de Atenção à Saúde. Departamento de Ações Programáticas Estratégicas. Manual de Atenção à Mulher no Climatério/Menopausa / Ministério da Saúde, Secretaria de Atenção à Saúde, Departamento de Ações Programáticas Estratégicas. – Brasília : Editora do Ministério da Saúde, 2008. http://bvsms.saude.gov.br/bvs/publicacoes/manual_atencao_mulher_climaterio.pdf

[v] Costa, Gabriela Maria C, Gualda, Dulce Maria Rosa. 2008. Menopause Knowledge And Experience For A Group Of Women. Rev Esc Enferm USP, 42(1), 81-9.

[vi] Trench, Belkis, & Rosa, Tereza Etsuko da Costa. (2008). Menopausa, hormônios, envelhecimento: discursos de mulheres que vivem em um bairro na periferia da cidade de São Paulo, estado de São Paulo, Brasil. Revista Brasileira de Saúde Materno Infantil8(2), 207-216. https://dx.doi.org/10.1590/S1519-38292008000200008

[vii] Pereira, Cláudia; Penalva, Germano. 2012. “Mulher-madonna” e outras mulheres: um estudo antropológico sobre a juventude aos 50 anos. IN: Corpo, Envelhecimento e Felicidade. Org. Mirian Goldenber. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira.

[viii] National Policy for Integral Attention to Women’s Health
MS (Ministério da Saúde/ Secretaria de Atenção à Saúde/ Departamento de Ações Programáticas Estratégicas), 2004. Política Nacional de Atenção Integral à Saúde da Mulher – Princípios e Diretrizes. Brasília: Ministério da Saúde.
http://bvsms.saude.gov.br/bvs/publicacoes/politica_nac_atencao_mulher.pdf

 

Milano Smart City: from above, below, and beyond

ShireenWalton20 December 2019

The last decade has witnessed the rise of the Smart City. Smart Cities, as they are broadly conceived, encapsulate the increasing embedding of technology into the urban infrastructures of cities across the globe[i]. The smart city concept can best be understood as a constellation of features and potentials made up of big data, algorithmic governance and automated urban management[ii], as well as citizens’ active engagements with technologies beyond mere ‘networked urbanism[iii]’. Certain strands of scholarship on smart cities has claimed that the smart city represents a ‘techno-utopian fantasy’, bringing together neoliberal urban visions directed at economic growth and prosperity and efficient and equitable urban governance. Strands of this scholarship have highlighted the acute contradictions of smart urbanism, including its very different expressions across global North and South and digital divides[iv]. Scholars working in human, urban and social geography have been particularly influential in understanding smart cities by exploring how people actually respond to new tech, amidst the wider context of big data and the digital/wider infrastructures that underpin the way cities are run and managed, as well as the kinds of social and spatial patterns that these systems produce[v].

The city of Milan has been widely recognised as a leading innovator of urban smartness. Roberta Cocco, Councillor for Digital Transformation and Civic Services of the Municipality, suggests that Milan’s leading position in Italy on the technology front comprised of four pillars:

1) digital infrastructure (preparing the ground for transformation, including Wi-Fi, 5G and broadband),

2) digital services for citizens (to assist in public administration and bureaucracy),

3) digital education (to support citizens’ digital literacy in order to access digital services),

4) digital skills (promoting within the municipality and cross-sector partners to boost employment and careers)[vi].

Cocco views Milan as a ‘model of experimentation’ in technological urban innovation, echoing a consensus within the municipality that other Italian cities will follow suit.

Figure 1: Milan metro. Fieldwork photo (CC BY) Shireen Walton

For example, through the first Milan Digital Week in 2018[vii], the city has been publicising itself as a leading smart city, hosting numerous international events, (Figure 2), and symposiums [viii].

Figure 2: Three core focus areas at the 2019 Milano Smart City Conference, 13-15 November: https://www.smartbuildingitalia.it/en/smart-city-conference/

Milan’s status as a leading smart city was evident in its winning the inaugural Wellbeing Cities Award[ix], having implemented 16 new projects that claim to promote wellbeing for the city and its communities. These range from art and education initiatives to the regeneration of particular areas of the city.

Ethnographic research conducted on the ground and online provides an opportunity to challenge this top down agenda. For example, Katrien Pype’s ethnographic research in Kinshasa, the largest and capital city in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, counters this with a perspective from the ground up, examining how residents engage with technology, combining their own expertise and creativity to produce variegated ways of “being smart in the city”. Pype asks:

‘Who is smart? And who is not? How does mastery over entering technologies relate to local repertoires of authority, power, and prestige?”[x]

In my Milan research I have tried to explore processes of ‘smartness’ from above and below, and their inter-relatedness, with a specific focus on the response of middle and older age adults.

Figure 3: Fieldwork photo (CC BY) Shireen Walton

Routine practices in the culturally diverse neighbourhood I carried out research in included googling for health, navigating the city via geolocative maps and free WiFi zones in public space and institutions such as libraries, arranging community events, or engaging in daily WhatsApp communications.

My research shows how the use of smart city services is contingent upon socio-economic circumstances, accessibility of roaming data, WiFi, and connection speeds, and how people respond to technology in their lives. At the same time, the concept itself continues to be being challenged, as seen in the following student protest slogans in Milan during labour day protests in 2019:

Figure 4: Student protest slogan on Labour Day, May 1 2019, Milan: ‘We strike the Smart City and Bikes’. Photo (CC BY) Shireen Walton

 

Understanding the smart city speaks to the heart of our project and its commitment to examining the meaning of the term ‘smart’ by explaining and understanding more broadly what ‘smartness’ is, and is becoming – and for whom – in the city and beyond.

 

Figure 5: Fieldwork photo (CC BY) Shireeen Walton

 

[i] Datta, A. ‘The Digital Turn in Postcolonial Urbanism: Smart Citizenship in the Making of India’s 100 Smart Cities’. In Transactions of the IBG. DOI: 10.1111/tran.12225
[ii] Leszczynski, A. (2016).  Speculative futures: Cities, data, and governance beyond smart urbanism. Environment and Planning A, 48, 1691–1708. Levien (2013). Regimes of Dispossession.
[iii] Graham, S., & Marvin, S. (2001). Splintering urbanism: Networked infrastructure, technological mobilities and the urban condition. London, UK: Routledge.
[iv] Luque-Ayala and Marvin (2015). Developing a Critical Understanding of Smart Urbanism’ in Urban Studies 52(12): 2106-2116.
[v] The work of Ayona Datta on Smart Cities https://ayonadatta.com and digital urban transformations in India https://ayonadatta.com , and Gillian Rose on smart cities and the (visual-digital) production of knowledge continues to be particularly insightful: https://www.urbantransformations.ox.ac.uk/project/smart-cities-in-the-making-learning-from-milton-keynes/
[vi] https://www.morningfuture.com/en/article/2019/04/17/smart-city-milano-roberta-cocco/596/ (Accessed: 19/11/19).
[vii] Milan has long been known for its world famous annual fashion week and design weeks, but since 2018 it has introduced ‘Milan Digital Week’, reflecting the city’s increasingly digital-orientated focus and shifts in the image of the city as predominantly fashion capital to the recent emergence as a digital capital, certainly of Italy, but also more broadly within Europe. https://www.milanodigitalweek.com
[viii] The founding of the ‘Milan Smart City Conference’ in November 2019 is a notable example of this contemporary push towards developing Milan’s leading reputation as a global smart city in the contemporary technological moment of the launch of the first applications for 5G. Three core concerns of the 2019 Milan Smart City Conference are stated as: ‘Infrastructure’, ‘Security’ and ‘Smart Mobility’. See the conference website here: https://www.smartbuildingitalia.it/en/smart-city-conference/
[ix] https://www.smartcitiesworld.net/news/news/milan-crowned-top-city-for-wellbeing-4212
[x] Pype, K. (2017). ‘Smartness from Below: Variations on Technology and Creativity in Contemporary Kinshasa’ in Mavhunga, C, C. What Do Science, Technology And Innovation Mean from Africa?; pp. 97 – 115

“The good news of it”: religion & mobile phones

Charlotte EHawkins11 December 2019

This blog post draws on four interviews about phone use in Go-down (my field site in Uganda), specifically where people discuss using them for religious purposes. The instances that follow show that the phone is sometimes incorporated in moral discourses with reference to religious beliefs; specifically, the individuals cited here expressed concerns around younger people’s phone use and their excessive messaging, categorised as ‘bad’ and improper, whereas preaching or sharing religious knowledge via the phone is considered ‘good’. Aspirations to own a smartphone have also been expressed in relation to faith.

Man walking in south-west Uganda on Good Friday, 2018. Photo by Charlotte Hawkins (CCBY)

Global media, the internet and its influence is sometimes described as ‘dotcom’, younger people today as ‘the dotcom generation’ or ‘the children of dotcom’. Often it is said by older people who are referring broadly to modern developments. Papa, who is Born Again, described dotcom as “like the New Testament, something recent…modern, jumping from the old to the new”. He thinks it can be used in both positive and negative ways, “it helps when you use it well…it even helps us to preach the gospel to people on WhatsApp”. He has an app with the bible on his phone, taking passages from there to forward to his contacts. But he says that he uses his smartphone mostly for Facebook, to keep in touch with people at home in DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) and see their pictures. He also listens to preaching on the radio through his phone, specifically on ‘Voice of America’, and to hear about the news in Israel: “You know it is better to know about is Israel because we are in the end time. If anything happens there, you get it in the prophecy of the bible, the way we are walking”.

A Born Again pastor similarly described the good and bad ways of using the phone in religious terms. He is concerned about young people’s use of messaging, particularly when they are supposed to be concentrating on something else, but he is glad that it offers another platform to preach, describing this as the “proper” way to use a phone; “we appreciate the good news of it”.

Assistants to the Imam in the primary mosque in Go-down agree that phones can be used in ways both supportive and detrimental to religion, depending how someone chooses to use them:

Nowadays, people have these phones, but phones nowadays would not be bad in our religion. Because you can be connected to somebody, somebody might ask you for a verse, or ask you any question. Now the problem which we have in our religion, other people… use it in a bad way, there is the problem…when you are back biting someone, it is very bad.

Imams use their personal phones to share their knowledge of their religion via Facebook, and when people call them for advice. If they don’t know the answer, they use either google, their Qu’ran app, or a book called Hismul Muslim to find out or to ask others with knowledge. These apps also help them with their daily recitation, providing the text, as well as translating Arabic texts to English.

Not all participants in Go-down own their own smartphone or mobile phone. Often, they are shared within families. Aleng, one of my research participants, is hoping for a smartphone of her own, and she hopes to learn how to use the internet. Her pastor often posts on social media, so she wants to connect with that. In the meantime, she mostly uses her phone for calling, typically contacting ministry to find out if there’s anything she can help with or participate in. Recently she called because she wanted to send her seeds to the Church to be anointed before planting them: “you anoint when you want God to quicken something”. Her daughter has a smartphone, and she sometimes relays messages back from the family WhatsApp group, but otherwise she feels everything is within her reach. “My God is a miracle God; he will give me a smartphone at any time”. She feels that dotcom is God-given, “these things come, you know God is the offerer of wisdom. If God has allowed such thing to come, it has the negative part of it and the positive part, so it depends on someone using it”. She is glad that it can be used for gospel.

Signs in a primary school in Go-down; ‘Always be God Fearing’, ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom’. Photo by Charlotte Hawkins (CCBY)

 

China’s social credit system: The Chinese citizens perspective

XinyuanWang9 December 2019

Please note: this is the full version of an article that is set to appear in the Conversation this week. This longer version is aimed at those interested in reading more about the topic.

The Social Credit System: Current Context

There has recently been a considerable amount of media coverage of the Chinese social credit system. This tends to be heated and unequivocally negative, as a kind of manifestation of China as 1984.

My recent 16-month on-the-ground anthropological research explains the reasons why some ordinary Chinese members of the public welcome the system*.

Although critics often see the system as an intrusive state surveillance apparatus, there is a perception among the Chinese population that this is a national project to boost public morality, fight fraud and other crimes and generally fix the nationwide crisis of trust gripping the country.

Chances are that before reading this, you will have heard of the social credit system and may even know one or several things about it. Originally proposed in 2014 and set to be rolled out nationwide against a self-imposed deadline of 2020, the system has been described by the South China Morning Post as China’s “most ambitious project in social engineering since the Cultural Revolution”. The aim is for the national system, once fully functional, to allocate a social credit score to members of the public based on their social, economic or other activities and deeds. With the so-called ‘red-list’ and ‘blacklist’, the aim is to effectively regulate both the behaviour of private citizens as well as that of businesses. The social credit system (Shehui xinyong tixi in Mandarin) will leverage ‘Big Data’ including geolocation, purchasing history, social media content, and footage from CCTVs equipped with facial recognition technology (already in use in several first-tier Chinese cities including Beijing and Shanghai). Given China’s poor record of data security, it is understandable that commentary around the issue is largely negative, with the system having been called an ‘Orwellian system controlling virtually every facet of human life’ or likening it to a dystopian episode of the series Black Mirror.

Given this context, I want to shed some light on some of the concerns and myths surrounding the issue of shehui xinyong (social credit) system. I recently came back from doing ethnographic research for the UCL’s ‘Anthropology of Smartphones and Smart Ageing’ project, which involved 16 months of living in in Shanghai (from late 2017 to 2019). During my time there, I found that positive perceptions of the social credit system among ordinary Chinese people were more prevalent than negative ones. Some welcomed the introduction of the shehui xinyong system while others were indifferent, and a significant number could see its benefits. How can we explain this extreme discrepancy in perception and attitude?

To take a step back, there is of course the factor of how big issues such as this are discussed in China versus how they are discussed outside of China, which can differ significantly due to factors like censorship. It is not unusual for issues about China to develop into a more heated discussion outside of China. As the old Chinese saying goes: ‘The flower tree planted inside the wall, has its blossom seen outside the wall’. Nowadays, ‘the wall’ in question has certainly been upgraded to version 2.0 in the form of the ‘Great Firewall’. The case of the social credit system is different however – we are not just talking about groups of dissidents wanting to bypass things, but something that may soon concern every single citizen’s everyday life.

Chinese citizens are not unaware of the massive amounts of personal data being collected ‘smartly’ (in real time and connecting many different elements such as buying history and geolocation) and the consequences of poor data security have not gone unaddressed either – see the recent public outcry with regards to the ‘deepfake’ app ‘Zao’ (a convincing face-swapping app that can insert anyone’s face into videos, TV shows and other media after uploading a single photograph). In the context of China being a country where ‘Smile to Pay’ facial recognition systems are used for payment (Alipay), it is understandable that this would deepen fraud concerns.

To sum up, although factors like censorship might have been the reason for the conversation not being as heated inside China, it does not seem to account for the way ordinary Chinese people praise the social credit system even in private and informal talks among friends.

Flyover in Shanghai. Photo by Xinyuan Wang (CC BY)

China’s crisis of trust

Living in China is tiring…you have to be vigilant and always on-guard against others, so you don’t fall into pits which are everywhere.”

Mr. Zhu, in his 40s, explains his reluctance to let his mother use a smartphone – she may fall prey to online scammers. He is not alone in worrying about what is seen as an intensifying crisis of public morality and a crisis of trust crisis that manifests through  everything from rising numbers of fraud cases, to widely publicised scandals in the country’s food safety and pharmaceutical industries.

The question of who to trust, and social trust more broadly is one that is pertinent to every modern society, not just China. Although the idea of someone being ‘trustworthy’ (chengxin) has long existed in the Chinese traditional moral system, it is widely believed this was fundamentally damaged in the past 50 years, starting with Mao’s Cultural Revolution (1966-76), now seen as a period characterised by the ‘breakdown of public morality’.  A turbulent period characterised by families turning on each other and being forced to denounce any friends or family members deemed counter-revolutionary, the Cultural Revolution has also had the effect of eroding the concept of chengxin and therefore also mutual trust over time. Erosion of social trust during and following periods of political turmoil is of course also not unique to China.

In addition, back when China was an agricultural society, a person’s social role was relatively fixed, meaning those who came in contact with them were more certain about whether they could trust them, given that the interaction happened within a clear network of social relations. The Chinese concept of guanxi (loosely translated as social relation) doesn’t only refer to social connections but is a more sophisticated concept that refers to a trusted social relation in which endorses an individual’s value. Risk management based on guanxi was confronted with unprecedented challenges as a result of fast-paced urbanisation, market-orientated economic reforms as well as massive domestic migration over the past thirty years. The fact that these enormous social and economic changes followed political upheavals political upheavals has massively contributed to the current trust crisis in China, where a large part of the population feels that they are ‘uncertain’ about whether to trust people, with a significant number also seeing themselves as victims of fraud. So severe is this nationwide crisis of trust that even President Xi reportedly believes China is “losing its moral compass”.

Let us take another example: 35-year-old Mrs. Liu was one of my research participants, and the mother of a new-born. While searching for a full-time, live-in nanny to take care of her baby due to her mother being unable to take care of him because of ill health, she found herself deeply troubled by the stories she was hearing about live-in nannies:

I have been told so many bad stories about those live-in nannies, from stealing to abuse… nowadays very few locals are willing to do the job. Rural migrant workers are not trustworthy, many of them have low suzhi (human quality) without any credit. They are here in a big city, nobody can tell where they come from and where they have been or what they have done. Everything can be faked, fake ID, fake personal stories, I have even heard of domestic agencies helping workers fake a whole ‘package’ of information. If something wrong happens, they can just move to a different place, and nobody will know.

In the end, following her friends’ suggestions, Mrs. Liu installed secret monitors at home to test different nannies and ended up hiring the one whose behaviour was most trustworthy when she thought nobody was looking.

As Mrs. Liu says, there are many cases of fraud and scams where the victim does not get compensated for the crime perpetrated, and the offender can simply move to another province or start a business in a different industry, with little trace of who they were in the past, and having faced no consequences. The national blacklist, one of the central elements of the proposed social credit system, is supposed to remedy this. People also believe that a quantified credit score can help mediate or settle legal settlement of economic disputes. In China, it is not unusual for lawbreakers to fail to pay debts or fines, or in some cases even to issue an apology to an injured party. In cases where the set fines are not seen as punitive enough, and the crime is too minor to lead to imprisonment, there seems to be no other form of redress, leading to a vacuum which some think can be filled by the credit system. Blacklisted citizens are penalised by being prevented from buying plane or high-speed train tickets, staying in luxury hotels or getting personal loans. They are also not allowed to join the civil service, take senior jobs in state-owned firms or start companies in the food or drugs industries. It is reported that already today, more than 12 million people are on this blacklist and they have been denied more than 17 million plane tickets and 5 million high-speed train tickets.

Furthermore, there is a widespread belief that the social credit system can deter not only ‘unethical’ deeds such as scams or fraud, but also what are referred to as ‘uncivilised’ (anti-social) deeds.

Mr. Zhu says:

I can’t wait for the implementation of the social credit system, there will be less fraud for sure. Also, I think about those who play videos out aloud on public transport, those who jump queues, those who just dump shared bikes irresponsibly in the middle of the road… I bet they will behave themselves if they know their ‘bu wenming’ (uncivilized) actions will actually be recorded by high technology. Things in the west are better because they have a mature credit system, right?

Both Mr. Zhu and Mrs. Liu regard themselves as good citizens and believe only bad citizens should be worried about the credit system. As a popular Chinese aphorism goes, “The only way to prevent people from knowing what you did is not to do it at all in the first place”. In Mrs. Liu’s case, there is support for a social credit system that is pervasive and based on (sometimes secret) surveillance. The average person is clearly less concerned about giving up some privacy if this means a significantly higher degree of security and certainty.

The end justifies the means,” says Mr. Zhu.

The ‘imported’ modern credit system

A widespread belief in China which Mr. Zhu and many others uphold is that western society is ‘civilised’ (wenming) precisely due to its very own long-existing credit system. This is perpetuated by different myths and some invented stories which have tended to circulate in Chinese society. A typical such story would be:

An intelligent Chinese young woman is studying in a European country and while travelling, notices that there are no ticket barriers in place and tickets are rarely checked. Because transport is expensive, she decides to take advantage of this ‘loopholes’ and rides the train for free every time she needs to travel.  Although she gets caught a few times, most of the time she gets away with it and even feels smug about it. She finally graduates with great marks and starts jobhunting. Although she gets to the final interview stage on multiple occasions and the interviews go well, she seems to be unable to secure a job. When she asks an HR Manager for feedback on why she was not successful, she is told: “Both your CV and your performance in the interview have recommended you as the ideal candidate for the role. However, when we checked your individual credit record, we found that you have caught dodging train fares three times. Unfortunately, we have no confidence that you can be a good fit for our company, which values honesty above than anything else”.

There are many different versions of this story, from shorter versions appearing in print magazines to online articles. These differ only in the details – sometimes the protagonist is a man rather than a woman, and the setting of the story can either be a European country or the United States. Regardless of these minute details, the main message of the allegorical story remains the same – a capable person without credit has no chance of being successful in a Western or indeed any modern society where individual citizens carry their own verifiable credit history with them throughout their lives. These stories were becoming popular well before the announcement of the social credit system and during my field work in Shanghai, more than half of the research participants I spoke to confirmed their familiarity with these stories.

Mrs. Cai, a retired middle-school physics teacher in her 70s, is one of the citizens who has strong faith in the so-called credit system used in the West. Assuming that I, as a university staff member in London, must have a good score in the UK’s credit system, she even asked me to share some of my experience with her grandson who is planning to study in the UK. Although many people don’t have a clear picture of how exactly credit histories or scores are calculated or used in the West in general, there is a belief that there is a pervasive and all-encompassing credit system in place in developed countries, something that makes it easy to trust even strangers. The myth is not unrelated to the fact that financial credit scores were introduced to China in the 1980s, during a period of economic liberalisation, as a Western import, which makes the current social credit system a sort of  extended version of these in the imagination of some members of the public.

However, the deeper and underlying reason for the popularity of such myths lies in the fact that Chinese society has been seeking a model of moral guidance during a time of painful transition from an agricultural and collective society to a modern individualistic one (and therefore one where the previous methods of risk management and checking trustworthiness have disappeared). While the stories mentioned above may be false, they are simply the reflection of a commonly held imagination of the problem created by individualism and modernity in China as well as the emerging social expectation that individuals take full responsibility for and be judged by their deeds.

Life as credit

Having set the context and talked about why some citizens welcome the security promised by the credit system, it is important to mention that notions of responsibility and judgement are actually nothing new, being rooted in traditional Chinese culture. Although the structure and tech-facilitated implementation used by the social credit system may look very modern in the eyes of most ordinary Chinese citizens, the underlying logic of the system is actually in line with the deep-rooted cosmology of Chinese folk religion, itself influenced by Buddhism as well as Daoism.

Talking about issues of ethics and morality, people in China often refer to an old saying: ren zai zuo, tian zai kan (“people are doing things, the sky is watching”).This reflects a common belief shared by the Chinese that whatever you do on the earth, there is always a record of your good and bad deeds in the ‘sky’ (tian). Unlike the Christian God, the concept of tian is much ‘nebulous’ and less humanised and somewhat resembles the laws of nature (especially in the discourse of Daoism). Tian resembles the sky in that it is distant to the point that it has given up on the task of reconciling the human world with itself, but nevertheless knows about everyone’s deeds and thoughts. Tian therefore doesn’t judge ‘randomly’ – one can potentially create a good fate through good deeds.

As the anthropologist Rudolf Wagner[1] argues, traditionally, Chinese people view life itself as credit. In this case, the system of ‘karma points’ is simply the standardisation of the relationship between human beings and supernatural powers. One can earn points by doing good deeds, but these can also be easily squandered through bad ones.

The social credit system as it exists today, which is more like a patchy network of regional pilots and experimental projects, still has a long way to go before becoming a comprehensive system at a national scale which determines every aspect of a citizen’s life within a single score. One can obviously debate whether it is appropriate for the state to play this role of Tian, but the very acknowledgement of the fact that the social credit system neatly matches a fundamental understanding of the relationship between human beings, society and the universe helps us to understand why the popular response has so far not been what might have been expected.

 

* This article is based on a 16-month traditional ethnography on the use of digital devices such as smartphones in Shanghai. Ethnography tries to minimise artificial encounters, such as surveys and interviews, in favour of being present with people in their everyday lives. I estimate that I talked with around 500 people and there are 146 people I would have spent at least 15 hours with. Conversations about the social credit system came up naturally rather than through direct elicitation.

 

 

[1] Rudolf Wagner. 2014. Fate’s gift money: the Chinese case of coping with the asymmetry between man and fate. In Hagen, J. & Welker, M. Money as God. Cambridge University Press. Pp. 184-218.

 

 

What is a smartphone in Yaoundé?

SimonAwondo Awondo6 December 2019

Marina and Angel teaching their grandmother how to use WhatsApp

More than 19 months after the beginning of my fieldwork in Cameroon, I find myself coming back to the questions that I set out to answer when I first arrived at the fieldsite: what is a smartphone and what does it do to middle aged people’s lives as they are experiencing a new socio-cultural and economic dynamic?

The data from the field is rich, and there is a multitude of ideas that jostle in my head. In this blog post, I’ll explore three possible answers:

  • The smartphone is a social object more than it is an individual
  • The smartphone is only smart because applications and their uses make it so.
  • Smartphone use among retired people should be explored in the context of being linked to the inversion of the roles involved in the transmission of knowledge: for the first time, it is older people who are having to learn from younger generations (the so-called ‘digital natives’).

Although these are only provisional conclusions, they may reflect similar findings in other studies looking at smartphone use among retirees and older people.

The smartphone as social object

It may seem surprising to make this observation. The smartphone is considered to be a personal and individual object first and foremost. Debates around the emergence of the first mobile phones (which eventually evolved into smartphones) have tended to emphasise its individualising dimension. With the emergence of social networks, the social dimension of phones and smartphones became more prominent. However, the basic question of why people use phones brings us back to the social and socialising dimension: ‘we need a smartphone because we want to call people, to be in touch, to receive news’, say my research participants. Despite the material dimension of this individual object, it remains above all a social object. My informants get a smartphone at the initiative of a person, a group, or because of aspirations that are situated beyond the individual. The smartphone is thus a ‘community object’, helping to reinforce reconfigurations of kinship (family groups, friend groups and others). This is all the more true in relation to the continuous popularity and increasing influence of social networks. For example, many retirees I spoke to in Yaoundé who were initially reluctant to own a smartphone were eventually offered a device by family members or their loved ones. Sometimes they ended up acquiring a device for themselves in response to pressure from relatives to ‘join the family Whatsapp’ (an expression that has become commonplace in Yaoundé).

Apps make the smartphone

In Yaoundé, the youth we met and talked to seem as ‘obsessed’ with phone brands as anywhere else in the world. Fueled by a flourishing second-hand market on Kennedy Avenue (the centre of digital and smartphone life in the capital), their preferences seemed to reflect the biggest current players on the smartphone market: the Apple-made iPhone, Samsung, and Huawei.

The majority of retirees in the city are disinterested in the race to buy the latest gadget, even if they are more likely to have the means to buy these. Retirees have a more utilitarian vision that often determines their phone choices – a significant number receive phones from relatives without necessarily having a say in what the phone type or brand might be, thus making them dependent on the choices of relatives who sometimes incorrectly anticipate that they don’t need “sophisticated technology”. Although partly true,  older members of the public can get caught up in spending time staring at their smartphone screens just as easily as younger ones. For them, it’s the use of apps that ‘makes’ the smartphone:

What good is a  smartphone if you can’t have WhatsApp, YouTube, Google or listen to BBC Africa or FRI?[1]” is a question I often heard. In Yaoundé, people in their middle age and older often have more than one phone – a ‘simple phone’ for voice calls, and a ‘real phone’ for apps including Whatsapp, playing music, looking up information and ‘another life without relationships’ , as pointed out to me by a 65-year-old mechanical engineer I met in a sport group.

The phrase ‘un vrai téléphone’ (a real phone) has become common in Cameroon and means at least two things: a phone that is truly a branded one, and a phone with the ability to do things. The possibilities offered by apps, such as playing a video or getting in touch with friends are what make a smartphone ‘real’. When talking about smartphones, people in Yaoundé will first ask what the phone’s brand is, as well as what it contains in it in terms of applications and other features. It is also ‘who’s in the phone’ that’s important too.

“Digital native” and historical inversion

Daniel Miller recently pointed out that the emergence of the smartphone and more broadly of the digital, has resulted in a sort of reconfiguration of the relations between social groups. For the first time, older people in Yaoundé are no longer the ultimate repositories of knowledge, its circulation and organisation. Obligated to learn from young “digital natives”, retirees in Yaoundé face a situation of historical inversion. Without necessarily impacting social hierarchy in general, this inversion invites these groups to weave new social links.  Retired people faced with this situation that I spoke to said they were “embarrassed by the dexterity of the youngest”, but “amused by this situation”. A majority of informants believed that the hesitation to join social networks for example is linked to the feeling of not having mastery of this technology.

A 59-year-old high school teacher tells me: “…there is a real need to fill the technological gap between generations. My generation hasn’t even mastered the computer, and now they have to master the smartphone.”

Despite his age, he refers to older people as ‘their generation’, with the implication being that older people have to learn from the youngest, which is a challenge for all of Cameroonian society.

When they weren’t learning how to use technology by themselves, most of my research participants said that the best teachers were their children and grandchildren. There are direct implications for this in terms of intergenerational relations. This current moment of tension between “seniors” and younger generations is also being reinforced by political and moral tensions in the country – thus, the dynamic of the interaction between them when they are learning from each other is interesting in that it reveals something about current Cameroonian society.  Older generations learning from the young means they are in effect forced to adopt collaborative behaviors instead of perpetuating the more traditional hierarchy represented by seniority.

[1]Radio France International

“Iconographies for Retirement” – By Pauline Garvey

GeorgianaMurariu31 October 2019

Author: Pauline Garvey

As part of the ASSA project, we are developing mHealth (mobile health) initiatives in order to address the needs of our populations. In our two field sites in Dublin we are engaged in developing social prescribing sites that can be accessed online, on smartphones, and as hard copies for those who are not comfortable with digital media.


Figure 1: One Dublin-based social prescribing site that we are developing.

Social prescribing is based on the recognition that a person’s health is improved by the degree she or he is embedded in social networks and cultural activities (see my blog December 2018). In many cases it involves a GP or counsellor writing a ‘prescription’ for a patient to attend a social activity that will embed a person in their community and enhance their health in mental, emotional and physical ways. In one pilot study, the Irish Health Service Executive described social prescribing as a service that:

“…helps to link you with sources of support and social activities within your community. Social Prescribing is for you if you feel that you need some support to mind your health and wellbeing, you feel isolated, stressed, anxious or depressed, you simply feel you need the service.”

This approach to health has been subject to quite a bit of media attention in Ireland this year and has been subject to several pilot studies nationally and internationally.[i] As part of this rising tide, there is now an annual international conference dedicated to social prescribing which is being developed in diverse countries from UK to the United States, Canada, the Netherlands, Singapore, and Finland.

The question for our team is firstly how can we develop a social prescribing site that enhances the lives of our research respondents? Secondly, how can an anthropological approach make a positive contribution to social prescribing more generally? Our approach is very much coloured by our methodology of anthropological ethnography and participant observation. This means that our insights emerge as the result of immersive participation in our field sites, building on the 16-month ethnographic fieldwork already completed. In developing a social prescribing website, we plan on continuing to work with our research respondents to understand how they use and engage with initiatives such as these.

The first issue emerged early when our informants expressed doubt about the iconography used to denote retirement.

Figure 2: One of the icons that our respondents objected to

For the people we work with, this icon seemed to capture an ageist expectation of what retirement should be rather than their actual experience of it. For example, one of my respondents jogged the 30 km home on the day he retired. Although this man’s level of fitness is not what I would describe as ‘average’, his perspective on remaining active is more in keeping with our respondents than the icon above (see figure 2).

As a result, we set about working with students from computer science in Maynooth University to create something more appropriate. As we work on developing iconography that better encapsulates the experience of our respondents, we realise that this is an ongoing iterative process that we will constantly revise as we launch our websites and work with our respondents in the years to come (see figure 1). Two alternative icons we are currently considering with respondents can be seen below.

 

Figure 3: Alternative retirement icons that we are currently considering with our research respondents.

 

References:

[i] https://www.irishtimes.com/life-and-style/health-family/what-is-social-prescribing-and-how-it-can-benefit-your-health-1.3840354

 

Mobile Money & Elder Care from Kampala

Charlotte EHawkins22 September 2019

Calling and mobile money are the most ubiquitous uses of mobile phones in the Kampala fieldsite. This connects people to their relatives across distances, allowing people to check on family or request assistance. Mobile money is often lauded as an example of adapting technology to requirements ‘from below’ (Pype, K., 2017), offering financial flexibility and connection (Kusimba et al., 2016: 266; Maurer, 2012: 589). With 33 mobile money vendors in the low-income neighbourhood where fieldwork was conducted, it is the most convenient and accessible platform for saving and transferring money.

Various people in Godown explained how they provide for their parents and relatives in the village without visiting them as “you can send money on the phone”. People sending money take cash to an agent, who arranges the transfer to the recipient’s phone number via their mobile.  Whilst relatives living in rural areas may be able to grow their own food, money is necessary for other amenities, transport, school fees, hospital bills, and burial costs. As one woman explained, if she wasn’t sending her parents money, they would have no other source of income; recently, her mother had a stomach ulcer, so she sent her money to go to hospital.  And from the perspective of an elder in the village in Northern Uganda, “life’s easier now with phones”, as they are able to communicate family problems with relatives in the city and mobilise necessary funds. This also exacerbates the burden of care for urban relatives. A local councillor in Godown explained how he bought his sister in the village a smartphone in order to make communication easier between them. But he actually finds the connectivity has made life “a bit harder” for him, as it has increased his obligation; when people have problems, they can immediately let him know and he’s expected to find money for them. Before, news of a death could take a week to reach him, by which time he may have even missed the burial and the accompanying financial obligations.

In a survey of 50 respondent’s phone use, only 3 people said they had not used mobile money in the past 6 months. Those who had used it sent and received money 3 times a month on average. We asked them about the last 3 times they had sent or received mobile money, who the person was, the amount and reason for remitting. Of 130 recorded remittances, the average amount sent was just over 200,000ugx, ranging from as little as 10,000 to 10,000,000ugx. Mostly, remittances were sent or received from siblings (28%), parents (12%), friends (11%),  and customers (10%). Sometimes people had deposited money for themselves, using their phone as their bank. The greatest proportion of remittances (28%) were for ‘help’, which could include money for upkeep, food, ‘pocket money’ or gifts. This was followed by remittances for health purposes (25%), which could include hospital bills, medicine, transport to hospital and surgery costs. 6 of these transfers were received or forwarded by the respondent in a chain of remittances, for the purposes of supporting older relatives. For example, one respondent had received 200,000ugx from her daughter, in order to help her take her mother in the village to hospital; or another who received 30,000 from their Aunt for their grandmother’s hospital bills. Perhaps the older person was unable to receive the money themselves, or perhaps other relatives weren’t trusted to pass on the money.

As economic anthropologist Bill Maurer notes, mobile services such as mobile money are appropriated within existing communicative networks (2012: 593). These instances of phone use demonstrate how mobile phones can provide a platform for intergenerational care between the city and the village. This works against a pervasive academic, public and everyday discourse about the declining social position and experience of older people in Uganda and Africa more broadly (e.g. Nzabona and Ntozi: 2017; Nankwanga et al., 2013; Van Der Geest, 2011; Oppong, 2006; van der Geest, 1997), often associated with broader contextual shifts, such as the urbanisation and technologization which have necessitated and facilitated mobile money practices. Research participants often lamented the Westernisation, increasing materialism and individualism, of the younger ‘dotcom’ generation exposed to outside influences. But in these everyday instances, ‘dotcom’ technologies are also shown to up-hold family support and obligation towards older relatives, despite greater distances between them.

References:

  • Kusimba, S., Yang, Y., Chawla, N., 2016. Hearthholds of mobile money in western Kenya: Hearthholds of mobile money in western Kenya. Econ. Anthropol. 3, 266–279. https://doi.org/10.1002/sea2.12055
  • Maurer, B., 2012. Mobile Money: Communication, Consumption and Change in the Payments Space. J. Dev. Stud. 48, 589–604. https://doi.org/10.1080/00220388.2011.621944
  • Nankwanga, A., Neema, S., Phillips, J., 2013. The Impact of HIV/AIDS on Older Persons in Uganda, in: Maharaj, P. (Ed.), Aging and Health in Africa. Springer US, Boston, MA, pp. 139–155. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4419-8357-2_7
  • Nzabona, A. and Ntozi, J. (2017) Does urban residence influence loneliness of older persons? Examining socio-demographic determinants in Uganda. Unpublished
  • Oppong, C., 2006. Familial Roles and Social Transformations: Older Men and Women in Sub-Saharan Africa. Res. Aging 28, 654–668. https://doi.org/10.1177/0164027506291744
  • Pype, K. (2017) ‘Smartness from Below’, in What do Science, Tehcnology and Innovation mean from Africa? eds Clapperton Chakanetsa Mavhunga. MIT Press
  • Van der Geest, S., 1997. Between respect and reciprocity: managing old age in rural Ghana. South. Afr. J. Gerontol. 6, 20–25. https://doi.org/10.21504/sajg.v6i2.116

Downsizing, Rightsizing, Upsizing

DanielMiller24 June 2019

A while back, Pauline Garvey and myself decided to write a chapter for our book about downsizing. This means that we rather assumed that downsizing would be an evident phenomenon for the age group we are studying, mainly people in their sixties and seventies. Certainly, in Ireland there is pressure on older people; hints from the media and the state that moving to a smaller home would help free up large family homes for families with children and perhaps release equity for their own children who are finding it hard to buy their own homes.

I found that most of my informants resent such pressure, feeling that they have worked hard for and deserve their homes. Their children may be living abroad and when visiting, my informants want to host them in their own homes.  Anyway, there are no hotels in Cuan. These people often want to move from the older estates they currently live in, where houses are typically expensive to maintain. But the evidence, confirmed from interviews with estate agents, is that they are not downsizing. Rather they aspire to move to new build houses, but with at least three bedrooms. When visiting such houses I found that they use this opportunity to express their desire to be modern and youthful. Far from squeezing possessions accumulated over decades into small retirement flats, they give these away and embrace modern furnishings and styles for their bright new houses.

Similarly, while they may be getting rid of their many accumulated possessions in the process. They may use this realign themselves with modern sensibility, viewing these actions as evidence that they have embraced the modern ‘green’ environmentalist perspective. So both in moving home and in divesting themselves of possessions, it seems that, far from preparing for ageing, they are seeking ways to become more youthful and more attached to contemporary mores.

Other evidence suggests that there is only limited transfers of equity down the generations to enable younger people to buy their own homes.  It seems more common for them to suggest that their children’s families can come back and stay in these reasonably spacious homes, while they are saving money to purchase their own. Most commonly, these children really want to be able to buy a home within Cuan itself, and this is expensive.

Actual downsizing is important in relation to frailty at whatever age this arrives. Alongside the need for specialist aids, downstairs bedrooms and toilets and, when required, a move to specialist sheltered accommodation or a nursing home. But, consistent with our earlier findings, this is about physical need. Otherwise, it seems to matter little whether people are in their eighties or fifties, they no longer consider themselves as old people who have to shrink their worlds, rather they remain concerned to find strategies for updating their world and remaining contemporary.

I thought this was quite an original, even radical finding; but perhaps we have not gone far enough. A 2016 report by the UK’s NHBC Foundation called Moving insights from the over-55s based on a survey of 1,500 households who have moved home, suggests that nearly a third have actually upsized, that the most popular homes are four bedrooms and that 46% have put more money into their new homes, rather than released equity. Unfortunately, the survey is not broken down by age. It is not then surprising that terms such as rightsizing are coming to displace downsizing. What that report doesn’t do, which we hope our project will do, is delve into the deeper context that may explain why this is happening.