History is the enemy of patriotism.
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
15.8.16
11.2.12
Good Intentions
So are you succeeding in saving India?
Actually, I believe "India" is helping me save myself.
*
It is always the way, isn't it, that the decent, bright kid sets out to untangle a good, meaty problem and, somewhere along the way, finds he's pulling his own threads apart.
The thinking traveler travels to Tangier, say, as an exercise in demystification, but the greatest upheaval he experiences is looking out the window and unpacking his absurdly composed suitcase.
The writer attempts to reveal something about the world but ends up repeatedly revealing himself.
*
Whatever man, anthropology blows.
Nobody wants to be explained in a textbook.
Actually, I believe "India" is helping me save myself.
*
It is always the way, isn't it, that the decent, bright kid sets out to untangle a good, meaty problem and, somewhere along the way, finds he's pulling his own threads apart.
The thinking traveler travels to Tangier, say, as an exercise in demystification, but the greatest upheaval he experiences is looking out the window and unpacking his absurdly composed suitcase.
The writer attempts to reveal something about the world but ends up repeatedly revealing himself.
*
Whatever man, anthropology blows.
Nobody wants to be explained in a textbook.
11.12.10
3.12.10
A sense of humour about India...
...is not something I am generally understood to have.
Then again, that's probably because no American
humourist has ever gotten knee deep in dye.
Then again, that's probably because no American
humourist has ever gotten knee deep in dye.
16.9.10
In The Eye
The latest gem from Arundhati Roy:
The essay which finds its conclusion in the paragraph above is stunning, upsetting, and absolutely essential. Put an hour aside and read every word.
"The first step towards re-imagining a world gone terribly wrong would be to stop the annihilation of those who have a different imagination -- an imagination that is outside of capitalism as well as communism. An imagination which has an altogether different understanding of what constitutes happiness and fulfillment. To gain this philosophical space, it is necessary to concede some physical space for the survival of those who may look like the keepers of our past, but who may really be the guides to our future. To do this, we have to ask our rulers: Can you leave the water in the rivers? The trees in the forest? Can you leave the bauxite in the mountain? If they say cannot, then perhaps they should stop preaching morality to the victims of their wars."
The essay which finds its conclusion in the paragraph above is stunning, upsetting, and absolutely essential. Put an hour aside and read every word.
8.8.10
More talk of harmony and cultural understanding.
One Ms. Vijaykar has just made me aware that the reason Indians reacted so adversely to Joel Stein's July slice of bigotry-lite is because we're embarrassed of our "heritage". Because we supplant it with "bland American customs". Because we don't take the time to explain our culture to them.
Oh! That's why they call us dotheads and ask us if we own elephants and if we have roads in India and if we're 'promised to a landlord or something'. Because we do so little to "patiently illuminate them".
Tch. All this time I was just being defensive, when I should have been spending my time hosting "get-to-know-India" events. My bad.
Oh! That's why they call us dotheads and ask us if we own elephants and if we have roads in India and if we're 'promised to a landlord or something'. Because we do so little to "patiently illuminate them".
Tch. All this time I was just being defensive, when I should have been spending my time hosting "get-to-know-India" events. My bad.
10.7.10
Warning: Brown Anger Below
For those who have been peaced out from the real world this past week, because of summer, or Country Fair, or heartbreak, or whatever, here's what you missed:
Time Magazine published an opinion/humour piece by Joel Stien about Indian immigration in his hometown of Edison, New Jersey. Full of nostalgia and recycled clichés, there isn’t much in it worth talking about. Except that it unveils in spectacular fashion the rhetoric and logic that still lies beneath the sexy, suit-jacketed face of Post-Racial America. ("Post" in the sense that it exists beyond any awareness of what it is to be “racial”.)
As though it weren’t enough to dislodge yourself from the familiar for the promise of something the world insists is “the good life”. As though it weren’t enough to scrounge together an identity and carry it with you in a suitcase ten thousand miles to a place where you must remake home from fragments, against an entirely unfamiliar backdrop. As though it weren’t enough to have no idea who you are and where you fit and how to BE in the world. As though it weren’t enough to deal with the dissolution of self and dreams. Let's also take on the responsibility of ruining the landscape of American nostalgia.
Sorry, Joel. We totally disturbed your past in pursuit of our futures.
The malls in India really are "that bad".
Alanis Morissette may have thanked us, but we never got a chance to thank YOU, America. Thank you. Thank you for all that you have allowed us. Thank you for your jobs at desks or in cabs or behind counters, slingin’ donuts or ringing up Slurpees. Thank you for trying so hard to decipher our accents when you’re trying to get your laptop fixed, and for putting up with the overwhelming curry smell we bring with us everywhere we go. Thank you for the eight Oscars, for the occasional pop-culture nod, and for the polite literary applause. Thank you for recognizing our skills, and for telling us what we lack. Thank you for advertising yourself to us, and then withholding. Thank you for luring us away from ourselves, and relocating us in a nowhere. Thank you for letting us lose ourselves trying to be good enough for your left-overs.
Please let me know the next time you need to watch soft-core porn or steal and I'll get my shit out of your way. It's the least I can do for someone who has figured out "why India is so damn poor." And do accept my apologies on behalf of my fellow countrymen who have flooded you with violent emails. It seems we can’t even be relied on to play Gandhi anymore. What ever happened to bending over and turning the other cheek? Tch.
[Slightly altered version published in Brown Girl Magazine.]
Time Magazine published an opinion/humour piece by Joel Stien about Indian immigration in his hometown of Edison, New Jersey. Full of nostalgia and recycled clichés, there isn’t much in it worth talking about. Except that it unveils in spectacular fashion the rhetoric and logic that still lies beneath the sexy, suit-jacketed face of Post-Racial America. ("Post" in the sense that it exists beyond any awareness of what it is to be “racial”.)
As though it weren’t enough to dislodge yourself from the familiar for the promise of something the world insists is “the good life”. As though it weren’t enough to scrounge together an identity and carry it with you in a suitcase ten thousand miles to a place where you must remake home from fragments, against an entirely unfamiliar backdrop. As though it weren’t enough to have no idea who you are and where you fit and how to BE in the world. As though it weren’t enough to deal with the dissolution of self and dreams. Let's also take on the responsibility of ruining the landscape of American nostalgia.
Sorry, Joel. We totally disturbed your past in pursuit of our futures.
The malls in India really are "that bad".
Alanis Morissette may have thanked us, but we never got a chance to thank YOU, America. Thank you. Thank you for all that you have allowed us. Thank you for your jobs at desks or in cabs or behind counters, slingin’ donuts or ringing up Slurpees. Thank you for trying so hard to decipher our accents when you’re trying to get your laptop fixed, and for putting up with the overwhelming curry smell we bring with us everywhere we go. Thank you for the eight Oscars, for the occasional pop-culture nod, and for the polite literary applause. Thank you for recognizing our skills, and for telling us what we lack. Thank you for advertising yourself to us, and then withholding. Thank you for luring us away from ourselves, and relocating us in a nowhere. Thank you for letting us lose ourselves trying to be good enough for your left-overs.
Please let me know the next time you need to watch soft-core porn or steal and I'll get my shit out of your way. It's the least I can do for someone who has figured out "why India is so damn poor." And do accept my apologies on behalf of my fellow countrymen who have flooded you with violent emails. It seems we can’t even be relied on to play Gandhi anymore. What ever happened to bending over and turning the other cheek? Tch.
[Slightly altered version published in Brown Girl Magazine.]
11.5.10
Gastrointestinal appreciation
The gentleman who works at the campus Post Office recently returned from a trip to India. When I saw him today he said the trip changed his life. He said he couldn't imagine how bland America must seem to me, how void of energy.
"It was fantastic," he said. "Totally worth the dysentery."
"It was fantastic," he said. "Totally worth the dysentery."
5.1.10
Certainty in Lentils
When everything else is uncertain, it is miraculous to know that if I boil five parts water and one part moong, let it get mushy, and then add butter, sliced chillies, grated ginger, chopped coriander leaves and salt, I can access the exact flavour of home.
19.5.09
New Governments, Old Fears
From the Asia Times Online:
"Manmohan will no doubt continue to place primacy in foreign policy on India's partnership with the US. The accent will be on harmonizing India's regional policies with the US approach in theaters such as the Indian Ocean and South Asia, Middle East and the Far East; on boosting military-to-military cooperation, and, in overall terms, on striving to become a participant in the US's global agenda and strategies."
(The complete article can be found here.)
Is anyone else alarmed by this? I've been worrying about it for a while, but I suppose there's no point in me wringing my little hands, wishing India wouldn't jump on the US' War On Terror bandwagon. The Bush era is over, you say? Perhaps. But there hasn't been much change in US foreign policy. The debris left behind by the previous administration needs to be dealt with, and it looks like the new administration is doing the same old thing: an approach closer to slash and burn than sift and clean. The latter is dirty work, and Hillary probably prefers not to be up to her elbows in bearded men who want to cover her up. Having attempted a makeover of his nation's image, Obama probably doesn't want to hear "America Murdabad!" So off they go, with 17,000 troops to kill the Talibacteria from the inside. Anything that falls in the way, be it magnificent cities or mere civilians, risks destruction too. No holds barred. When America is threatened, all means are necessary. Palestinians and Pakistanis become terrorists by association, and layers of history are whittled down to strategic interest.
And in all this, India is willingly getting on board, allowing its local specificities to become subsumed in global generalities.
I know it's a little more complicated than an angsty blogpost. But, really, isn't this what it boils down to? Taking sides on the playground of global politics? Choosing teams? "You look like you have a good GDP, I want you." Bullies win, outcasts sit out, the little ones get pummeled. Do we want to play this game? Of course. Dissidents are called punks and punched out. Better make good with the punchers. Be friends. Allies. Thing is, I'm not sure powers HAVE allies. Agents, yes. And armies. The rest participate in their games, their wars, their agendas. For what?
I, for one, would prefer not to be sacrificed at the alter of material greed, cultural mimicry, and political ambition. But who the hell am I?
"Manmohan will no doubt continue to place primacy in foreign policy on India's partnership with the US. The accent will be on harmonizing India's regional policies with the US approach in theaters such as the Indian Ocean and South Asia, Middle East and the Far East; on boosting military-to-military cooperation, and, in overall terms, on striving to become a participant in the US's global agenda and strategies."
(The complete article can be found here.)
Is anyone else alarmed by this? I've been worrying about it for a while, but I suppose there's no point in me wringing my little hands, wishing India wouldn't jump on the US' War On Terror bandwagon. The Bush era is over, you say? Perhaps. But there hasn't been much change in US foreign policy. The debris left behind by the previous administration needs to be dealt with, and it looks like the new administration is doing the same old thing: an approach closer to slash and burn than sift and clean. The latter is dirty work, and Hillary probably prefers not to be up to her elbows in bearded men who want to cover her up. Having attempted a makeover of his nation's image, Obama probably doesn't want to hear "America Murdabad!" So off they go, with 17,000 troops to kill the Talibacteria from the inside. Anything that falls in the way, be it magnificent cities or mere civilians, risks destruction too. No holds barred. When America is threatened, all means are necessary. Palestinians and Pakistanis become terrorists by association, and layers of history are whittled down to strategic interest.
And in all this, India is willingly getting on board, allowing its local specificities to become subsumed in global generalities.
I know it's a little more complicated than an angsty blogpost. But, really, isn't this what it boils down to? Taking sides on the playground of global politics? Choosing teams? "You look like you have a good GDP, I want you." Bullies win, outcasts sit out, the little ones get pummeled. Do we want to play this game? Of course. Dissidents are called punks and punched out. Better make good with the punchers. Be friends. Allies. Thing is, I'm not sure powers HAVE allies. Agents, yes. And armies. The rest participate in their games, their wars, their agendas. For what?
I, for one, would prefer not to be sacrificed at the alter of material greed, cultural mimicry, and political ambition. But who the hell am I?
11.3.09
Comedy of Ignorance
All of a sudden, India is all over the American pop-cultural mindscape. Case in point, The Colbert Report. Tonight, for instance, Stephen Colbert made joke about Bollywood dancing, and then about India's space program, including a breezy reference to poverty and a graphic of one of the turrets flying off the Taj Mahal as a rocket. All in the space of about five minutes. And this isn't a one off. India's getting more face time on The Daily Show as well. (Yes, I do realize that this one hour of TV is not the sum of all American pop culture, but I think it's an interesting sample.)
What's going on here? A few years ago, India mattered very little to anyone, as far as I could see. And now it's all cows and Bollywood and the Taj Mahal floating about everywhere. Is it all because of Slumdog? Is that what's put us on the map? Suddenly we're interesting? Suddenly we're relevant enough to be a subject for political comedy? That's it, though. That's the extent of it. Interest in India doesn't seem to have been expansive; just more reductive.
Maybe this is just a result of my increasing disenchantment with the Colbert/Stewart universe. Monday morning, I had a brief conversation about comedy with someone I think knows it pretty well. I asked what he thought made good comedy, and if it was a difference between laughing at and just laughing. He said that laughing at can often be cruel, especially when alienating the subject of comedy as in the case of these shows, but it doesn't have to be, as long as the person (place or thing) that's being laughed at, is laughing as well. I'm not sure I am anymore.
Perhaps there's some sort of rule of proportionality involved. You enjoy comedy increasingly in proportion to the amount you know about its subject, but you get to a certain point when you know enough and, more importantly, CARE enough that the reductive nature of the comedy really begins to bother you. I, for one, no longer have a sense of humour when Uzbekistan is just goats, and Iran is just anti-modern ayatollahs (which it barely is AT ALL).
I know somebody will turn around and tell me I'm hypersensitive, but I'm not okay with the appropriation of fragments of a culture so that somebody who knows nothing about it can have a giggle at its expense. It's lazy and condescending and I don't think I should have to get over myself and laugh.
What's going on here? A few years ago, India mattered very little to anyone, as far as I could see. And now it's all cows and Bollywood and the Taj Mahal floating about everywhere. Is it all because of Slumdog? Is that what's put us on the map? Suddenly we're interesting? Suddenly we're relevant enough to be a subject for political comedy? That's it, though. That's the extent of it. Interest in India doesn't seem to have been expansive; just more reductive.
Maybe this is just a result of my increasing disenchantment with the Colbert/Stewart universe. Monday morning, I had a brief conversation about comedy with someone I think knows it pretty well. I asked what he thought made good comedy, and if it was a difference between laughing at and just laughing. He said that laughing at can often be cruel, especially when alienating the subject of comedy as in the case of these shows, but it doesn't have to be, as long as the person (place or thing) that's being laughed at, is laughing as well. I'm not sure I am anymore.
Perhaps there's some sort of rule of proportionality involved. You enjoy comedy increasingly in proportion to the amount you know about its subject, but you get to a certain point when you know enough and, more importantly, CARE enough that the reductive nature of the comedy really begins to bother you. I, for one, no longer have a sense of humour when Uzbekistan is just goats, and Iran is just anti-modern ayatollahs (which it barely is AT ALL).
I know somebody will turn around and tell me I'm hypersensitive, but I'm not okay with the appropriation of fragments of a culture so that somebody who knows nothing about it can have a giggle at its expense. It's lazy and condescending and I don't think I should have to get over myself and laugh.
28.2.09
Medicate with Mendacity.
I have been thinking about this.
For a long time, India has been the imagined repository for social evils far away from the western world: the caste system, sati, child marriage, child labour, dowry, poverty, and so on. It has also managed, somehow, to be the epicenter for various exotic positives: yoga, meditation, textiles, the vedas, the Kama Sutra, curry, Krishna, "that elephant guy", and other assorted gods. It could take hours to unravel the mystery behind this cultural composition, so I will desist. What I will say is that the above list does not represent my India. My description would look substantially different, furnished with different images.
But here's the thing: you rarely get to pack your own cultural suitcase. And when you travel, you discover, item by item, what you have been arbitrarily, often carelessly, assigned. You don't dress yourself, but people read every aspect of your appearance as ethnography.
What worries me is the possibility that we, that is Indians, have failed to describe ourselves to the world, and so are being described according to its fancy. I realize it isn't quite as simple as that. After all, it's not like there's a vaccuum where indigenous cultural witness should be. There are plenty of self-produced, nuanced representations of India. If they don't get seen, or if they are forgotten, ignored, dismissed, rejected or reduced, perhaps there isn't much we can do about it. Is there?
As always, we come back to Slumdog Millionaire.
In the end, what bother me is this: it must take very little to create convincing cultural representations, if this manipulative, platitudinous film can manage it. Just garnish with pretty people and a climactic kiss to make it go down easy. Glaze with a shabby bit of choreography and a slogan at the end to retain the ethnic flavour and set the hopeful message. Is this all it takes? Or perhaps I should ask if this is what it takes. Not too harsh, not too chirpy: just the right degree of grit.
Show me what I want to see, and I'll stick a dollar bill in your choli. Dance for me, India. Dance for me.
(Incidentally, if you're interested in more than the self-indulgent musings of one more blogger, you might want to check out this piece on the film by Tarun Tejpal, editor of Tehelka Magazine. It put the matter more or less to rest for me. Read it. It's excellent.)
For a long time, India has been the imagined repository for social evils far away from the western world: the caste system, sati, child marriage, child labour, dowry, poverty, and so on. It has also managed, somehow, to be the epicenter for various exotic positives: yoga, meditation, textiles, the vedas, the Kama Sutra, curry, Krishna, "that elephant guy", and other assorted gods. It could take hours to unravel the mystery behind this cultural composition, so I will desist. What I will say is that the above list does not represent my India. My description would look substantially different, furnished with different images.
But here's the thing: you rarely get to pack your own cultural suitcase. And when you travel, you discover, item by item, what you have been arbitrarily, often carelessly, assigned. You don't dress yourself, but people read every aspect of your appearance as ethnography.
What worries me is the possibility that we, that is Indians, have failed to describe ourselves to the world, and so are being described according to its fancy. I realize it isn't quite as simple as that. After all, it's not like there's a vaccuum where indigenous cultural witness should be. There are plenty of self-produced, nuanced representations of India. If they don't get seen, or if they are forgotten, ignored, dismissed, rejected or reduced, perhaps there isn't much we can do about it. Is there?
As always, we come back to Slumdog Millionaire.
In the end, what bother me is this: it must take very little to create convincing cultural representations, if this manipulative, platitudinous film can manage it. Just garnish with pretty people and a climactic kiss to make it go down easy. Glaze with a shabby bit of choreography and a slogan at the end to retain the ethnic flavour and set the hopeful message. Is this all it takes? Or perhaps I should ask if this is what it takes. Not too harsh, not too chirpy: just the right degree of grit.
Show me what I want to see, and I'll stick a dollar bill in your choli. Dance for me, India. Dance for me.
(Incidentally, if you're interested in more than the self-indulgent musings of one more blogger, you might want to check out this piece on the film by Tarun Tejpal, editor of Tehelka Magazine. It put the matter more or less to rest for me. Read it. It's excellent.)
27.1.09
Playing Hide and Seek with Poverty
The world seems to be having some trouble looking at poverty. Accusations of 'selling', 'using', 'disrespecting', 'glorifying', and 'neutralizing the gravity of' poverty are regularly leveled at the few who attempt to examine, or even simply portray it.
Granted, we may have gotten to a point where poverty can no longer be talked about with less than a very high level of complexity or activism. Which is difficult, even for the very best minds wading bravely through layers of social structure and meaning.
Arguably, there are those who do recognize the marketability of poverty, the sell-power of a distant sad-story to a consumer base composed primarily of liberal westerners (but not just westerners) who have come to feel guilty enough about their privilege that they can no longer live with themselves if they do not look something ugly or unfortunate in the eye.
I would suggest that portrayals of poverty (presumably for first-world audiences) are popular because they are tamer, and therefore preferable versions of the third-world. They help ease, or perhaps balance, the subterranean fear of mysterious, raging death-mongers who rise from mobs shouting "Death to America", with a passionate mission to destroy freedom and democracy and everything else the first-world holds dear. The mythical fanatics who "hate us because we're beautiful" are balanced by the pathetic poverty-stricken innocents who admire the west for the same reasons.
This is the benevolent third-world, where people can be rescued from poverty using the West's superior civilizational tools, as opposed to the malevolent third-world where the same tools are unsuccessful in rescuing people from hatred. It's reassuring. Happy poor are easier to reconcile with, and deal with, than angry enemies. Especially if we manage to convince ourselves that those poor are, in fact, happy.
And what better place to embody this sort of benign, resolvable poverty than India? Unlike the war-zones of the Middle-East, India doesn't evoke a reluctant sense of responsibility. Nor does it inspire the odd combination of economic and moral competition that the vast, presumably godless working class of China does. And, unlike the sweeping desperation of Africa, there is hope for India. The shining bits may just be able to polish up the dull ones; the prosperous may pull up the poor. It appears to embody the holy ideals of democracy, free market, meritocracy. It makes for the perfect scene for a success story.
If nothing else, Danny Boyle certainly has excellent timing. Unplanned though it was, his film managed to become the west's homage to Mumbai, a city which had recently been host to what some have called "India's 9/11". (Nothing like a corresponding catastrophe to create an automatic ally.)
Having been asked by several of my American friends for my thoughts on Slumdog Millionaire (which, in some cases, seemed requests for validation), I finally went to watch it. I stepped out with one, very vague opinion: There are things portrayed in the film that I wish I could deny, but are probably true; and there are things that I wish I could affirm, but are improbable at best.
More important than what I thought, though, was the question I have taken to asking everyone I know who liked the film: Why do you like it? This is what's interesting to me. Why is this film popular with those who do not know, love, or have any kind of relationship with India? Or, more specifically, why is this particular portrayal of India the one that people bought?
Several answers had to do with the technical, aesthetic aspects of the film, which I too am mostly a fan of. I particularly enjoyed the narrative-structure and the cinematography. Other people implied that their like of the film has to do with the sheer hope of the story, the way in which even the worst of circumstances are/can be transcended with the help of idealism and good fortune. This makes sense. Hope is so in vogue in America right now. For obvious reasons. Maybe that's why an underdog story was so much more successful than, say, a depressing drama about mid-century American society.
Is it a guilty conscience thing? Is it the gratifying sense of having revealed something long-hidden? (There's always the classic: "This is the part of India you don't see." To which I say: "That's only true if you don't want to see it.")
What's clear is that portrayals of poverty are not always comforting. I come back to last summer's global-media outrage surrounding the infamous photoshoot in Vogue India's August issue, which showed high fashion accessories being carried by 'ordinary Indians'--lower-middle to middle class people in mostly small-town India. (You can find the NYTimes article at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/01/business/worldbusiness/01vogue.html)
The two words most often used in describing the shoot were "obscene" and "vulgar". But they weren't applied to the gratuitously expensive items; they were intended for the portrayals of poverty. What people took exception to was the juxtaposition of 'poverty-stricken' people with things that cost more than their annual income.
Passing over the gross misinterpretation and mythologizing of what, precisely, was contained in those pictures (because whether or not it was, in fact, poverty, that's what people thought they were seeing) let me just say this: Are miserable poverty and $10,000 bags okay as long as you don't mention them in the same breath, see them in the same frame? We don't seem to have a problem as long as one remains in National Geographic and the other in Vogue; one in Africa and one in Europe; one on sidewalks and the other on catwalks; one in our guilty conscience and the other in our unconscionable indulgence. Keep them separate, and we'll be fine. Don't allow them contact with each other. God forbid someone actually sees the injustice or feels the guilt.
A major point of contention was the anonymity of the people in the photographs. As if those very people aren't otherwise totally ignored. How dare we pretend we could do right by them simply by mentioning their names in a magazine? Would that have made up for their place in the world? Would it have apologized sufficiently for using them to advertise something they couldn't ever afford? Do we not use them routinely, in text books and on donation boxes, as the posterchildren of poverty?
Poverty is one of the biggest problems facing humanity. And faced with it, what do we do? Congratulate ourselves on being able to bear it, convince ourselves it's not all that bad, or bury our heads in the sand.
(An excellent article on the Vogue controversy can be found here.)
Granted, we may have gotten to a point where poverty can no longer be talked about with less than a very high level of complexity or activism. Which is difficult, even for the very best minds wading bravely through layers of social structure and meaning.
Arguably, there are those who do recognize the marketability of poverty, the sell-power of a distant sad-story to a consumer base composed primarily of liberal westerners (but not just westerners) who have come to feel guilty enough about their privilege that they can no longer live with themselves if they do not look something ugly or unfortunate in the eye.
I would suggest that portrayals of poverty (presumably for first-world audiences) are popular because they are tamer, and therefore preferable versions of the third-world. They help ease, or perhaps balance, the subterranean fear of mysterious, raging death-mongers who rise from mobs shouting "Death to America", with a passionate mission to destroy freedom and democracy and everything else the first-world holds dear. The mythical fanatics who "hate us because we're beautiful" are balanced by the pathetic poverty-stricken innocents who admire the west for the same reasons.
This is the benevolent third-world, where people can be rescued from poverty using the West's superior civilizational tools, as opposed to the malevolent third-world where the same tools are unsuccessful in rescuing people from hatred. It's reassuring. Happy poor are easier to reconcile with, and deal with, than angry enemies. Especially if we manage to convince ourselves that those poor are, in fact, happy.
And what better place to embody this sort of benign, resolvable poverty than India? Unlike the war-zones of the Middle-East, India doesn't evoke a reluctant sense of responsibility. Nor does it inspire the odd combination of economic and moral competition that the vast, presumably godless working class of China does. And, unlike the sweeping desperation of Africa, there is hope for India. The shining bits may just be able to polish up the dull ones; the prosperous may pull up the poor. It appears to embody the holy ideals of democracy, free market, meritocracy. It makes for the perfect scene for a success story.
If nothing else, Danny Boyle certainly has excellent timing. Unplanned though it was, his film managed to become the west's homage to Mumbai, a city which had recently been host to what some have called "India's 9/11". (Nothing like a corresponding catastrophe to create an automatic ally.)
Having been asked by several of my American friends for my thoughts on Slumdog Millionaire (which, in some cases, seemed requests for validation), I finally went to watch it. I stepped out with one, very vague opinion: There are things portrayed in the film that I wish I could deny, but are probably true; and there are things that I wish I could affirm, but are improbable at best.
More important than what I thought, though, was the question I have taken to asking everyone I know who liked the film: Why do you like it? This is what's interesting to me. Why is this film popular with those who do not know, love, or have any kind of relationship with India? Or, more specifically, why is this particular portrayal of India the one that people bought?
Several answers had to do with the technical, aesthetic aspects of the film, which I too am mostly a fan of. I particularly enjoyed the narrative-structure and the cinematography. Other people implied that their like of the film has to do with the sheer hope of the story, the way in which even the worst of circumstances are/can be transcended with the help of idealism and good fortune. This makes sense. Hope is so in vogue in America right now. For obvious reasons. Maybe that's why an underdog story was so much more successful than, say, a depressing drama about mid-century American society.
Is it a guilty conscience thing? Is it the gratifying sense of having revealed something long-hidden? (There's always the classic: "This is the part of India you don't see." To which I say: "That's only true if you don't want to see it.")
What's clear is that portrayals of poverty are not always comforting. I come back to last summer's global-media outrage surrounding the infamous photoshoot in Vogue India's August issue, which showed high fashion accessories being carried by 'ordinary Indians'--lower-middle to middle class people in mostly small-town India. (You can find the NYTimes article at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/01/business/worldbusiness/01vogue.html)
The two words most often used in describing the shoot were "obscene" and "vulgar". But they weren't applied to the gratuitously expensive items; they were intended for the portrayals of poverty. What people took exception to was the juxtaposition of 'poverty-stricken' people with things that cost more than their annual income.
Passing over the gross misinterpretation and mythologizing of what, precisely, was contained in those pictures (because whether or not it was, in fact, poverty, that's what people thought they were seeing) let me just say this: Are miserable poverty and $10,000 bags okay as long as you don't mention them in the same breath, see them in the same frame? We don't seem to have a problem as long as one remains in National Geographic and the other in Vogue; one in Africa and one in Europe; one on sidewalks and the other on catwalks; one in our guilty conscience and the other in our unconscionable indulgence. Keep them separate, and we'll be fine. Don't allow them contact with each other. God forbid someone actually sees the injustice or feels the guilt.
A major point of contention was the anonymity of the people in the photographs. As if those very people aren't otherwise totally ignored. How dare we pretend we could do right by them simply by mentioning their names in a magazine? Would that have made up for their place in the world? Would it have apologized sufficiently for using them to advertise something they couldn't ever afford? Do we not use them routinely, in text books and on donation boxes, as the posterchildren of poverty?
Poverty is one of the biggest problems facing humanity. And faced with it, what do we do? Congratulate ourselves on being able to bear it, convince ourselves it's not all that bad, or bury our heads in the sand.
(An excellent article on the Vogue controversy can be found here.)
2.12.08
Perspectives on the Mumbai Attacks
For anyone interested in India-Pakistan relations, and each one's perception of each other; or for anyone interested in the sheer potency of the media and the messages they disperse, these videos on YouTube are an absolute must watch.
I cannot express the depth of my confusion, frustration, and despair at the utter distortion of information, and the loss of a perfectly good opportunity to properly address the misunderstandings between India and Pakistan, and analyze the issue with greater intricacy than this, which is little more than slander.
It would be impossible to provide factual correction for all the discrepancies I noticed, but here's a couple:
1. According to the December 2nd edition of The Hindu online, Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has not pointed a finger at Pakistan. Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee, has mentioned the likelihood of involvement by Pakistan-based elements. Again, NOT Pakistan the nation, but organisations/elements originating in/operating out of Pakistan. This is a crucial distinction.
2. There are by no means separatist movements in 25 of India's 28 states. There is violent unrest and political dissidence with some separatist sentiment in a handful of problematic regions, but none of them are addressed with any measure of subtlety in this report.
As an alternative, here is a link to an article by Pakistani novelist Mohsin Hamid, who examines the issue briefly, with considerably greater clarity and less agenda than the "news report" linked above.
And here he is again, speaking on Al Jazeera, along with Ajai Sahni, executive director of the Institute for Conflict Management.
I cannot express the depth of my confusion, frustration, and despair at the utter distortion of information, and the loss of a perfectly good opportunity to properly address the misunderstandings between India and Pakistan, and analyze the issue with greater intricacy than this, which is little more than slander.
It would be impossible to provide factual correction for all the discrepancies I noticed, but here's a couple:
1. According to the December 2nd edition of The Hindu online, Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has not pointed a finger at Pakistan. Foreign Minister Pranab Mukherjee, has mentioned the likelihood of involvement by Pakistan-based elements. Again, NOT Pakistan the nation, but organisations/elements originating in/operating out of Pakistan. This is a crucial distinction.
2. There are by no means separatist movements in 25 of India's 28 states. There is violent unrest and political dissidence with some separatist sentiment in a handful of problematic regions, but none of them are addressed with any measure of subtlety in this report.
As an alternative, here is a link to an article by Pakistani novelist Mohsin Hamid, who examines the issue briefly, with considerably greater clarity and less agenda than the "news report" linked above.
And here he is again, speaking on Al Jazeera, along with Ajai Sahni, executive director of the Institute for Conflict Management.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)