242 Hum Nat (2011) 22:225–246 my own experience as someone frequently quoted and sometimes misrepresented in the media, there is a limit to what any of us can do to control others’ use of our work. There was, for example, a limit to what Chagnon could do when his remark in Veja was truncated by Martins and used against him as proof that he hurts the Yanomamö. (I have repeatedly asked Martins to explain the truncation, and she has not.) Second, as Hames has noted, Chagnon did in fact try, on occasion, to halt misuse of his work, as when he found out his infanticide data might be used by a Venezuelan legislator to prosecute Yanomamö parents for murder (Hames 2005). Chagnon also tried to track down claims that Brazilian officials were using his work as the basis of harmful policies. He “asked a prominent Brazilian journalist, who follows both [Chagnon’s] work and official Brazilian government policies as these relate to the Brazilian Yanomamö, to investigate this accusation.” Euripedes Alcantara replied: I can assure you that I could not find a trace of Brazilian officials[’] use of your work as a justification of a certain policy towards the Yanomamö. I have asked people [in] high ranks of the military, Funai and the Congress. They have searched [at] my request almost all documents related to the Brazilian Indians policy. Nobody mentions your work as grounds for treating the Indians one way or another (quoted in Chagnon 2002). Whether Alcantara is right or wrong, obviously it’s false to conclude Chagnon did not worry about the use of his work by people who could harm the Yanomamö. Should Chagnon have painted the Yanomamö to appear more gentle and lovable? I would answer that that could have been unethical, if it meant he put forth a representation that he saw as less than accurate. Though we should work hard not to inflict harm on our subjects, scholarship requires representing the world, including our subjects, as accurately as we can, even when that representation clashes with our sensibilities. To quote Adam Kuper: If anthropology becomes . . . “the academic wing of the indigenous rights movement,” if we report only what is convenient and refrain from analysing intellectual confusions, then our ethnographies will be worthless except as propaganda. Even as propaganda they will have a rapidly diminishing value, since the integrity of ethnographic studies will be increasingly questioned by the informed public (Kuper 2003:400). In her criticism of Chagnon, the anthropologist Alcida Ramos has said this: “In Brazil as in other Latin American countries, professional anthropologists take on, as a matter of course, the social responsibility to both respect and defend the rights of our research subjects, particularly, indigenous peoples” (Ramos 2001). But I find such a construction—responsibility to defend our subjects—frightening. I admire, respect, and indeed identify with some of the work some anthropologists (like Bruce Albert) have done specifically to serve the dire needs of the Yanomamö. But advocacy is not scholarship; the former is specifically concerned with advancing human rights, the latter with the production of knowledge. To insist that scholars of a particular discipline adhere to and even advance preordained social politics looks to me frighteningly like the situation Galileo found himself in.