Category: politics

Categories
photo politics United States of America

John F. Kennedy, or On American Prestige

I’ve written before about what it’s like to be an American traveling in the Muslim world (see posts of 4.9 and 6.6), but in this post I thought I would share some more thoughts on what it means to be an American in the world today, especially after the election of Barack Obama (also see posts of 10.25 and 12.15).

This topic has come to mind yet again because we are in Nouakchott, Mauritania. Why, you may ask? Nouakchott is a fairly small city, being the capital of a country of only 3 million or so inhabitants, and its city center, however sprawling, is built on a fairly small number of avenues–but one of them is named for U.S. President John F. Kennedy.

This is one of many, many JFK roads throughout the world. Off of the top of my head alone, I can think of roads named after Kennedy in Paris, Buenos Aires and Istanbul, and I have no doubt that there are dozens of other cities around the world. Why is JFK so popular? Part of it no doubt has to do with the heroic stature given to him by his assassination, but it is also because of the hope that Kennedy represented to the world, how he presented America in its most flattering aspects and facets.

It is hard to imagine any country naming any street for the current U.S. President (although the San Francisco sewage plant would have been a good start–link). He is so reviled that reaction to his reign has gone from opposition to sheer bewilderment, a wonder that one person could be so ineffective, his actions at times so seemingly aimless and at others so incredibly hostile to global peace and prosperity. Before the November election, people would often respond with a one word question/statment/accusation when we said that we were American, “Bush?” They wanted an explanation, maybe even an apology. They wanted to know if we as Americans approved of the actions taken by our elected leader. We have had to answer for his actions, apologize for the state of our government, in such enlightened regimes as Uzbekistan, Pakistan, China and Iran. Imagine our position! People whose own countries torture, imprison citizens without a right to trial, push a very particular religious agenda, restrict all sorts of freedoms, people from autocracies and theocracies, were telling us how bad our government was–but, see, the thing is, they were right; the U.S. had fallen so far from it purports to be.

Yet we are happy to report, as I have explained in previous posts, that there are incredible reserves of goodwill built up for America and Americans, all over the world. Almost everyone reacts positively to us when we identify ourselves as coming from New York, not only with general politeness but with genuine enthusiasm for America and things American. It is just bewildering how often the stars and stripes is used as decoration in West Africa–the motif recurs at least a hundred times more often than the tricolore of the Republique Francaise and at least as often as the colors of the local national flag. (I’m not sure who we have to think for this goodwill–Peace Corps volunteers?)

In a Dakar taxi

A Malian truck

And, for all of the horribleness of the last eight years, I think that Bush’s reign has in some ways strengthened American prestige. The truth is that, in recent years, there has been much to challenge American hegemony. The nuclear rise of India and Pakistan, and the efforts of North Korea and Iran, challenged American control over non-proliferation. The economic rise of China put into doubt American commercial dominance. The rise of the price of oil and the fabulous accumulation of wealth in the Gulf created an entire class of super-rich well outside of the western Christian world sphere. The creation and rise of the euro created a currency to seriously rival the U.S. dollar. What have Bush’s disasters taught us? America may not have the strategic and political acumen to win wars and build strong and sympathetic regimes in Iraq or Afghanistan, but it sure has the resources and military power to create chaos all over the world. America may no longer lead the world economy in its growth but miscalculations by America’s greedy/idiot barons of finance can bring the global financial system to its knees, and reduced spending by American consumers can close factories across the world. The euro may be more valuable than the dollar but, in a time of true crisis, the dollar is still the ultimate safe haven.

In short, there is a new recognition of America’s significance in the world–that things have to go right in America for things to go well elsewhere. Currently, it seems that almost everyone in the world wishes America and its new President well–Bush may still be President, but we are now met by “Obama!” in a congratulatory or approving tone–and hopes that America can succeed, so that instead of dragging the world down with it, it can lift the world up. Maybe, hopefully, Obama will prove so popular that Obama rues and avenidas and strasses and sharias and margs and daos sprout up all over the world. Hopefully, he’ll be able to realize the dreams he currently represents not only for Americans but for so many around the world.

Inshallah.

Categories
Mali photo politics Senegal United States of America

Obama in Africa

Dakar, Senegal

As everyone knows, Barack Obama is popular all over the world. He is popular because he is not George Bush and repudiates Bush’s failed policies, because he gives everyone new hope for America and the world, and because his victory itself seemed to restore a sense of righteousness and justice to the world, to set something straight that was so gravely out of kilter. Part of Obama’s mystique is, of course, his skin color and biography. Even without understanding the details of his domestic or foreign policy, one knows right away that Obama represents a different kind of America, is from an ethnic/racial background and generation that has not yet been represented in the highest seats of power. He is black, he is biracial, his father was a Muslim, and he grew up in Hawaii and also in Indonesia. So many things about Obama seem fresh and different, to offer new perspective and hope.

The whole world is excited, yes, but Africa particularly so. When we mention these days that we are American, we are often met with “Obama” as a response. We’ve seen Obama stickers on shop signs and one Obama t-shirt. One American living in Mali told us that there is even a hair salon named after Obama in Bamako; the hand-painted business sign, characteristic of such signs all over West Africa, went up just days after the election.

Dogon Country, Mali

Ile de Goree, Senegal

Why the excitement? For one, Africans can with some justification claim Obama as one of their own. Obama is not only black, but far closer to Africa than the typical African-American, whose ancestors came to the American continent centuries ago as slaves and lived through the horrific and heroic African-American experience; Obama’s father was himself a Kenyan, a true African and citizen of Kenya, and essentially all of Obama’s father’s family (however poorly he may know them, given that his father left Obama and his mother when he was a baby) still lives in Kenya. For Africans, even Obama’s name is a very tangible reminder that he is just one generation away from the continent, that he is almost one of their own. Religion also serves as a common link. So many in the Muslim world seem to know that Obama’s father was a Muslim, and many even erroneously believe that Obama himself is a Muslim (as some Republicans so badly wanted Americans to believe). As Muslims themselves, the West Africans of Senegal and Mali seem to find it easier to identify with Barack Obama, and hope that Obama will usher in foreign policy that is not as anti-Islam as Bush’s appears.

But, perhaps more powerfully, Africans’ identification with Obama comes not only because of Obama’s specific ties to the continent but for similar reasons as African-Americans’ exaltation. For African-Americans, Obama’s election was tangible evidence that black Americans can make it to the very top of American society, that racism, while still alive, did not stop a clear majority of Americans from voting for a black man as President of the United States. Obama’s election was tangible evidence that anything is possible, despite race. This sort of affirmation was likely necessary in part because African-Americans have had a long-held suspicion that it was not possible, or almost impossibly difficult, for a black man to succeed in America, because there were too many barriers, including possibly race-motivated violence, in the way. To a population that is often made to feel downtrodden, Obama’s election was an event for great jubilation.

Africans recognize that they live in a continent that is, economically and politically, well behind the rest of the world. They recognize that Africans make up a significant percentage of the world’s most poor and that many African governments are among the world’s most corrupt and oppressive. This mild sense of shame is tangible–a hotelier showing us the relatively primitive plumbing of his bathroom described it as “toutes africaines” and a taxi driver described his nearly-falling-apart car as “une voiture africaine.” There is some pan-African pride, too, yes, but more often there is a sense that Africa, unlike North America or Europe or Asia, is a place that is backward and dysfunctional.

And so, just as an African-American may be sorrowful for all of the problems blacks face in America, and take pride and comfort in knowing that, despite it all, blacks can still rise to the very top of American society, some Africans we have met see in Obama proof that an African or a near-African, despite all of the problems the continent faces, can become the most powerful man in the world. As a young man in Dakar explained to us, now anything is possible, not only for African-Americans and other minorities in America, but also for Africans from Africa.

Will people be disappointed? Perhaps. Obama can’t be everything that the American left expects and desires, and everything that Europeans want of America, and everything that the Muslim world and the developing world think may come from a black President whose father was an African Muslim. He simply can’t please everybody. But as we keep telling people, everything may not be good after 4 or 8 years with Obama as our President, but everything will be better. Given the fiascos and disasters of the last eight years, everyone seems to be content with this expectation, with much nodding of heads, heartfelt pats on the back and even a few inshallahs. The African people, like the rest of us, are tired. They need what we all need, for America to lead again.

One funny story. We met a couple of Peace Corps volunteers who are working in a small village in Niger. Early morning on November 5, they woke up to the sound of great cheering as the villagers heard on the radio that Barack Obama had been elected the next President of the United States. The Americans, too, were overjoyed. Also living in their village was an American Christian missionary, who was apparently, as evangelical Christians were likely to be, a McCain supporter. Later that day, one of the villagers approached the Peace Corps volunteer, confused because Missionary Mark wasn’t excited and happy for Barack Obama. The villager just assumed that everybody wanted Obama to win, and couldn’t understand why one of the actual Americans among them wouldn’t be celebrating. Grinning broadly, the Peace Corps volunteer answered simply, “Because he’s dumb.”

Djenne, Mali

Categories
Jordan politics Syria

Accidental Leaders

One of the peculiarities of this part of the world is that two of its leaders, President Bashar al-Assad of Syria (also see post of 5.4) and King Abdullah II of Jordan, came to power almost accidentally, and at young ages.

Until fairly close to his ascension to the Presidency of Syria, Bashar al-Assad had no military or political role in Syria, and instead was on his way to being an ophthalmologist. In 1994, Bashar was rushed back to Syria from London when his older brother Basil, the son who had been groomed to succeed to Syria’s monarchic presidency, died in a car crash. Bashar trained quickly to become Syria’s next president and assumed the title in 2001 at the early age of 35, when his father Hafez al-Assad passed away. Neither Bashar nor his father ever expected Bashar to be in the role of leading the country; everyone had expected the much loved Basil to be the next President of Syria.

Similarly, the next in line to Jordan’s throne after King Hussein was, for the longest time, his brother Hassan, and not his son Abdullah. A mere two weeks before the death of King Hussein, he suddenly named his son as successor, replacing Hassan as Crown Prince. King Abdullah was crowned in 1999 at the age of 37. It’s not at all clear what made King Hussein seemingly change his mind at the last minute, but one point of controversy that may have prevented an earlier designation of Abdullah as Crown Prince was his “Arabness.” King Abdullah’s mother was British and not Arab, he went to school in Britain and the U.S., and, according to one Jordanian I spoke to, his Arabic language skills at the time of his own coronation were not sufficient to give an address.

Presidents Hafez and Bashar al-Assad, Damascus, Syria

King Abdullah, Wadi Musa, Jordan

This is one of the risks of monarchy–people can rise to power in unexpected, less than ideal ways: Fathers can die when their sons are too young and ill-prepared; the next in line may be inadequate in capacity or temperament; rivalries can result in bloodshed, leading the most murderous to the throne (indeed entire royal families have been wiped out in order to “fix” succession). In comparison with such scenarios, Bashar al-Assad and King Abdullah both seem meritorious and successful leaders of their respective country, their popularity (and that of their families) attested to by the numerous pictures of them posted all over Syria and Jordan. Their relatively young age and lack of experience (President-Elect Obama is 47, a decade older than King Abdullah when he was coronated and twelve years older than Bashar al-Assad when he was inaugurated) seem not to be affecting their rule too negatively. The only real complaint we heard about either was that Bashar was not as “strong” as his father or brother (because “Arab countries need a strong leader”), but even the Syrian who made this complaint followed it by expressing his hope that as Bashar grew into the position, he would develop a stronger hand.

And, even if monarchies can be somewhat arbitrary, it is important to keep in mind that Presidents Bush and Ahmedinejad, two of the least popular leaders in the world, were both democratically elected (although the former’s first election was “stolen”) and one of the scariest recent near-misses in unprepared leadership was John McCain’s irresponsible and bizarre selection of Sarah Palin as his running mate. Democracies can sometimes result in disastrous rule, while hereditary power can sometimes result in ideal leadership (see post of 7.13 on the Aga Khan, who was selected by his grandfather to succeed to the title).

Given all of the uncertainties in this part of the world, its great geopolitical complications (and with them the potential for conflict and disaster), a great deal of responsibility was thrust on these two men, suddenly and unexpectedly–let us wish them stable, prosperous and peaceful reigns.

Categories
politics United States of America

Election Special – What the World Thinks

We just voted! If you can’t guess who I voted for you’re not reading the blog very carefully, but far more interesting than my choice, I thought that you may be interested in hearing what we’ve been hearing, from people we have met in our travels.

People in nearly every country we’ve been in have been intensely curious about the election–almost every time that we mention that we’re American, the election soon comes up. Generally, people ask us either whom we support or who we think will win. People don’t understand the U.S. electoral system completely–many thought Hillary was still running (and often preferred her over Obama), and I imagine few understand the workings of the electoral college–but they are following the election and care deeply about its outcome. People have said to us that they wish they could have some sort of say in the election, because its outcome will have repercussions for the whole world. Media coverage is equally extensive. We’ve seen articles about the election in numerous local newspapers, and see a great deal of footage on local television. Europeans have told us that their local media is covering the election as if it were an election in their own country.

Every single person we’ve spoken to, given the choice between Obama and McCain, hopes that Obama wins. This is in complete agreement with The Economist’s Global Electoral College, which reports only three countries (Georgia, Moldova and Macedonia) in the McCain camp. Why do people have such strong, uniform feelings? What little they know about McCain, their impression is that he will represent nothing new or different from the last eight years. What little they know about Obama seems to offer them hope. It seems the broader themes Obama’s campaign has been trying to hammer home (McCain = Bush, Obama = Hope and Change) have been grasped by the world at large (or at least the parts of it we’ve come across).

Now, there are some in the world who may favor McCain. We met a Kurdish man in Syria who thought George Bush a “brilliant and beautiful man.” We’ve also found, in the past, that some non-Muslim minorities in Muslim countries who feel oppressed–Christians in Malay Borneo, Balinese–favor Bush, and may favor McCain, possibly because they view Bush as a foe to all Muslims. Al Qaeda seems to favor McCain. But the desire for Obama to win is nearly universal. As you probably already knew this, let us delve into a few more specific topics.

Many (especially Germans, it seems) are curious whether Americans will really elect a black President. I do not know if I can go as far as Kristof in his recent New York Times column on “rebranding” America, but there is no doubt in my mind that the election of Obama will revive in global consciousness America as the land of opportunity and equality, an America with ideals worth looking up to.

Some Muslims, it turns out, believe that Obama is a Muslim, and Indonesians feel a special connection to him because he used to live in Indonesia. As the media reported during the primaries, no doubt Kenyans are especially excited, although perhaps not the Kenyan spiritual warrior who exorcised Palin.

While people are quite optimistic about an Obama presidency, many are also fairly realistic. As strongly as people favor Obama, and as hopeful they are for change, they recognize that certain things won’t change. Arabs know that we won’t pull out immediately from Iraq. Palestinians know that U.S. support for Israel will continue (and many feel that nothing will change for them no matter who wins). Even if people trust that Obama will make wiser decisions than Bush, they know that the U.S. political system will not allow Obama free rein. The only person who responded hopelessly pessimistically, however, was a young Pakistani man from Karachi who said that Pakistanis didn’t care at all (actually, the phrase used was much cruder) about America or its election (which seems foolish given that we are currently attacking part of their territory).

But generally I think that people view Obama as internationally minded, and Bush’s worldview relatively parochial, one of many reasons that they support him.

Many Americans abroad are also excited; we aren’t the only ones who managed to watch debates that took place in the middle of the night local time.. We met one young woman who said that she had somehow arranged to meet her ballot in Kathmandu, so that she could vote while traveling. If you also are currently traveling abroad, it is still possible to vote, as easily as downloading a blank ballot and mailing it in (or going to a consulate or embassy as we did). Instructions are on this site–no excuses!

Categories
Iran photo politics religion

The Hejab, or On Equality

There’s even a street named after it.

Iranian law enforces the hejab, or the Islamic dress code, on all women age 9 and over (corresponding to the age at which girls could be married in Iran immediately after the Islamic Revolution, although that age has since been changed). Iranian women do not wear the burqa, like women in parts of the Arab world and Afghanistan, but the rule seems to be that absolutely everything be covered except the face and hands. (This rule even applies to, with ridiculous effect, Iranian movies, in which female characters are covered even in domestic scenes in which in real life a woman would not be covered.) The hejab is often satisfied by wearing a chador, a very large piece of black cloth that is draped over one’s head and held in place with one’s teeth or hands to cover nearly the entire body but the face. Alternatively, and preferred by many women, is a coat (called a manteau and sometimes fitted), along with a headscarf. Young women in big cities flout the rules a bit by wearing shorter manteaus and wearing their headscarf rather “high” on the head, exposing a good portion of their hair. Some non-Muslim women tend to dress even a little more casually, perhaps exposing a little neck or ankle. [See my post of 6.4 for photos.] But the hejab is the law. If you break the law once, we are told that the police will just take you to the police station and call your family. But if you kept breaking the law, you would be fined and eventually end up in prison. The Ahmedinejad administration has ordered police crackdowns on the hejab, especially in the summers when the temperature climbs and it becomes tempting to relax one’s clothing. As once reported in the press, “Police will seize women with tight coats and cropped trousers.”

Bathroom sign

For some of you it may be tempting to view the hejab as something cultural, rules that we as non-Muslims may not be comfortable with but may well be desired by Iranians for the ordering of their society. I personally am certainly comfortable with traditional dress (cf. post of 4.16), and recognize that different cultures do find different clothes more or less acceptable or objectionable. But through our travels in Iran we have come to feel more strongly than ever that dress is an important form of personal expression, and that the legally enforced hejab is an unreasonable infringement of women’s liberties. (This may sound a bit American–and indeed I also find objectionable (although not in the same way) rules in France and Turkey that prohibit the wearing of headscarves.)

Often, in conversations with Iranian women, the hejab comes up. When we asked them what they think about having to wear the headscarf, we generally heard a curt “I hate it.” Young ladies that Derek tries to photograph will spontaneously point at their headscarves, saying that it’s ugly and that they would much prefer to be photographed without it (although of course that is not an option). Even women who said that they themselves would wear it even if it were not legally required, because it is dictated by their faith and tradition, told us that they did not think it should be the law, and that women should be free to choose. I do not know if there have been any reliable polls, but one fairly liberal, but older man thought that perhaps half of Iranian women would wear and half not wear the hejab if the law were lifted. (We were told by one older woman that, in Tehran before the Islamic Revolution, almost nobody wore headscarves, but the legal requirement in the last thirty years has restored the hejab to the level of social mores as well–even we started joking that women with high scarves must be of questionable morals, akin to a very short miniskirt–and if the law were revoked more women would probably wear headscarves than in pre-revolutionary days.) But just as women will object to the hejab, they will also point out that it’s just the tip of the iceberg, a meaningless symbol compared to the other social and legal handicaps women suffer in the Islamic Republic. Upon reflection, however, I have come to the belief that the hejab explains much about what is wrong with gender relations in Iran.

The first problem with the hejab is simple inequality. Although I believe that as a technical matter the hejab imposes restrictions on men as well (and at times men have been harassed by police for having “improper” hairstyles or whatever), from our experience the law doesn’t stop men from doing much of anything in the way of dress. Men wear short sleeves all the time, have all sorts of hairstyles from long to spiky, feel free to leave three or four buttons undone exposing a usually hairy chest and wear sandals exposing their feet. We’ve even been told that it’s okay to wear shorts, although we have not seen anyone doing this.

Exercising. The man looks a bit more comfortable, don’t you think?

Because the hejab is required for women when they may be in the presence of unrelated men, it creates for women a constant awareness of, a burden to check for, the possible presence of men. If dress is slightly relaxed, because they are alone or in a private place, they must rush to fix it if a man (especially an official) appears on the scene. It creates for women two spheres–the private, in which they are free to wear whatever they’d like, and the public, a space controlled by men in which they must modify their appearance. It is, simply put, a symbol of patriarchy.

No hejab, no service.

Another, deeper problem with the hejab revealed itself when we asked why it was necessary. What we were told repeatedly by men was that women need to conceal themselves in order to reduce temptation for and sexual violence by men. This is, of course, the exact mentality that allows rapists to defend themselves by pointing to the victim’s dress. This attitude is not only damaging to women, because it assigns female culpability to the male problem of sexual violence, but, I believe, also to men, who are seen in this view as totally lacking self-control. Indeed, some anecdotal evidence would suggest that this worldview generates male misbehavior–one young tourist we met in Tehran said that she received 10-20 unwanted and persistent advances by men each day, and another foreign woman temporarily living in Iran confirmed that Iranian men seem to have no sense of shame or fear of rejection. The Lonely Planet describes the Tehran subway as a “frotteur’s heaven.” Iranian men in the U.S. certainly don’t behave this way–it must be the culture of giving men a free pass and blaming women that causes it.

A few words on what tourists should do in Iran. One man we spoke to laughed bitterly when mentioning his conversations with female tourists from Europe who answered, when they were asked what they thought of Iran, simply that they liked Iran and that Iran was great. “What if they had to live here?” he asked, “What if there was an Islamic Republic of France? Let’s see what they’d say then.” After hearing this, we felt it our responsibility to be truthful, and not gloss over our true feelings on important questions simply because it is easier to avoid political issues.

Also, we have seen some Iranian domestic tourists from the larger cities avoid wearing their hejab when possible. For example, in a hotel lobby, two young ladies were sitting across from Derek without their scarves on, next to their scarf-wearing mother, and only rushed to put them back on, while expressing annoyance and rolling their eyes as they did it, when an Iranian man entered the room. On a daytrip to the countryside, some Iranian women in our group courageously took off their scarves, since they were in the presence of only western tourists and the tour op
erators. Sadly, on that tour, most of the western tourists kept their scarves on, no doubt not only because they were afraid of getting into trouble (we were told once that foreigners are levied a $3 fine), but because they thought that respecting local law was the “right thing to do.” But does this kind of law deserve respect? Or should the foreigners show solidarity with courageous Iranian women?

It may be the law, but does it deserve respect?

One story: We were showing New York postcards (which we carry for such show and tell) to three older women in a city park. They asked for a card, and we selected the one of Radio City Music Hall. Women are not allowed to sing or dance in public in Iran because the solo female voice and female dance are considered too seductive, causing many female musicians to move to the U.S. after the Iranian Revolution. We wrote on the back of the card, “In this place, they make music that could make you cry and there is beautiful dancing. One day, the people of Iran will dance and the women will sing. Iranian people will walk hand in hand with the rest of the world.” Each sentence was met with a quiet but firm “Inshallah [God willing].”

Categories
Iran photo politics queer religion

Freedom in Iran

To a liberal, open-minded Westerner, it may be all too easy to enter Iran thinking that maybe most Iranian people like the Islamic regime, that the country’s laws, while unappealing (to say the least) to us, are to them not only acceptable but what they expect, and how they want their society to be organized. It is tempting to think that the differences between the Iranian system and, say, the U.S. system can be written off to culture. People vote in Iran, after all, and in the last elections chose Ahmedinejad. Very quickly, within the first few days in Iran, this sort of relativism was wiped clean from our minds.

Iran is not a place where people are free to decide to be Muslim, or follow traditional behaviors, or be for or against the government; it is a place where people feel oppressed by the fanatically religious minority, the mullahs who have undemocratic, total control over the government and military and dictate a way of life that people would not choose. We heard it far and wide, from older women to youngsters, from Muslims to Zoroastrians, from big cities to smaller towns. Of course, we spoke more often with people who speak English, and we communicated (in English, through a translator or by non-verbal means) more often with people who reached out to talk to us, the foreigners, but our sample size was not small–Iranians are exceptionally friendly and we spoke to literally many dozens of people during our month in Iran. The bottom line is that people do not feel free in Iran, and that people have a strong desire to be free.

Two hand gestures became very familiar to us while traveling in Iran and communicating with locals. The first was a hand wrapping an imaginary turban on one’s head, a symbol for the theocratic elite of the country. Repeatedly, people would make the gesture, sometimes accompanied by the hand stroking an imaginary beard, to signify that it is the mullahs who have control and are mismanaging the country and restricting people from enjoying their lives in the manner that they wish. The second was the throat-cutting gesture, hand across the neck, which was used surprisingly often not only to describe what would happen to you if you tried to exercise a freedom that was not provided under Islamic law, but also as a general symbol for the government–nowhere else have we seen people associate their government so closely and so repeatedly with execution. One person told us that the only thing stopping the Islamic government from restoring stoning as a form of punishment is international pressure.

What freedoms are missing in Iran? Iran is in some ways more free than other countries we have visited. Some public criticism of government officials (though not the unelected religious hierarchy) is permitted in the press, particularly since the Khatami presidency. Traveling about the country, it feels less like a police state than Syria, where to take a long-distance bus trip your ID is checked, or Uzbekistan, where during our visit in 2003 there were frequent police checkpoints on the roads. The police presence in Iran is fairly minimal, and soldiers (usually fulfilling their compulsory military service) are friendly. What makes Iran different from other countries with comparable freedom deficits is that the freedoms unavailable in Iran are deeply personal, things that affect people on an intimate, daily basis. People speak of the censorship and lack of freedom in countries such as China, but the reality is that, day-to-day, most people in China can live largely as they wish, where their personal lives are concerned; the government does not seem to involve itself. Syrians, who seem to have almost no political freedoms but do have many personal ones under their secular government, still seem quite content with their government. Political freedoms, I feel after a month in Iran, are in a sense secondary to those personal liberties that we demand in our private lives. Of course in many cases, including possibly Iran, political freedoms are necessary to achieve the more personal ones, but if you had to choose only one, politics would come second.

After one young man told us that the thing he wished most for Iran was freedom, we asked him, “What does freedom mean to you?” “I wish I could hold my girlfriend’s hand in the street,” was his reply. Romantic/Sexual freedom is core to our identity as humans (or even deeper, to our animal souls), and one area in which the Iranian government is particularly active. We were told by one man that he is afraid even to walk down the street with his girlfriend, because of the ever-present possibility of adverse action by the police. While young people often have illicit (sexual) relationships, the dating scene is so limited that almost everyone we heard having been married or about to be married was married or engaged to his or her cousin (though this may also have to do with the frequency of arranged marriages). Forms of sexual expression that may be illegal in other countries as well, but are likely usually tolerated, such as adultery and homosexuality, are capital offenses. One man told us that, if a man discovered that his new wife is not a virgin, he would have the right to annul the marriage and likely without much legal repercussion kill the man who had slept with her.

Freedom of religion/conscience is also core to our identities. While Iran permits the practice of certain non-Islamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Zoroastrianism), following long-established Islamic custom, there are also severe restrictions on religious belief. Perhaps most shockingly, apostasy, or renunciation of Islam by a Muslim, is punishable by death. Given this ban, the permitted minority religions are not allowed to proselytize, nor are they allowed to worship publicly. Religions other than the permitted ones, including most infamously the Bahai faith, are severely persecuted with the full force of the state. Atheism, of course, is unthinkable.

When it comes to one’s romantic/sexual life or one’s faith, however, people will to some extent act according to their desires, regardless of the law. We were told that non-martial sexual relations were fairly common among young Iranians, some engaging in anal intercourse to preserve the woman’s technical virginity. Many of Iran’s parks, especially those located somewhat outside of city centers, are filled with amorous young couples hiding among the trees. There is even a dangerous but not-so-underground gay life in the big cities [see my post also of 6.6]. Similarly, Mohammed himself said that there is no compulsion in matters of religion, and people in Iran believe in their hearts and minds many things deviant from the Islamic legal requirements. We were told by several Iranians that it is common for a person to be a Muslim on paper (Iranian government ID cards state the citizen’s religion), but not be one in spirit. One woman we spoke to said that her father and her siblings were all essentially atheists, and that her father encouraged her to learn about other religions and to pick a faith that feels right to her. Another young man, who had grown to equate Islam with the hated Iranian government, told us outright that “Islam is shit” (!) and that he wanted to become Christian. (We tried with little traction to tell him that there were plenty of bad Christians in the world as well.) He wore on his neck a cross, which had been given to him by his parents, who accepted his choice. It was a shock to see in front of us a man actually wearing around his neck evidence that could be used to convict him of a capital offense.

Cross on the neck of a Muslim man who wished to convert to Christianity, a capital crime. After we took this photograph, the man, to our surprise, asked us to re-take the picture, with his face. Later, his friend reminded us never to show that second photograph to anyone (of course we had no intention), using the throat-cutting gesture.

But of
course people, while acting outside of the law, remain afraid. Iranians love to talk about politics, and wanted to talk to us about politics, but also let us know that they feared that our conversation was somehow being monitored. People told us that we, as Americans, were likely being followed, and a man who had invited us into his family home (such invitations are not uncommon in Iran, one of the friendliest and most hospitable countries in the world) was certain that the police knew that we were there. One man who wanted to speak to us had us step away from his university classmates, because he didn’t feel he could trust them not to report the conversation. The apparent total control that the government has, its apparent ability to monitor its citizens’ activities and the severe punishments provided under the law lead to a general sense of distrust and paranoia. Without such intimate and essential freedoms as sex and faith, nearly everyone becomes a potential criminal and target of the state, a person who has to live with distrust, paranoia and potential severe punishment.

All this leads to a sense of discontent and pessimism that we have not seen in many countries. One woman told us when we said we were from New York, “I wish I was born in America.” One young girl we spoke to, when we showed her pictures from New York, said that if she lived in New York she would never come to Iran. Another young man, hearing that we were American, said, “New York, yes. Los Angeles, yes. Iran, no. Mullah, ech,” and wrapped an imaginary turban about his head. “Will things change?” we often asked. The answer generally fell somewhere between thirty years and never. Those who were the most pessimistic said that their government was deliberately keeping the country at a relatively poor state of economic development, so that people would not have the energy for political action or rebellion. Others said that the mullahs very carefully calibrated the laws to give Iranians a modicum of freedom, such as the relatively recent allowing of women to ride bicycles, a change that an optimistic Iranian specifically identified to us as a sign of progress in Iran (though to us of course it sounded absurd). Multiple people said that the government encouraged the relatively free availability of hard drugs in Iran, because the religious elite prefers that young people be chemically dependent rather than politically active. One person painfully pointed out that Western governments don’t really even care about the Iranian people, raising a conflict with Iran only when it comes to issues of security such as the nuclear program.

Lee Bollinger said in his introduction to Ahmedinejad’s address at Columbia University that “there are not enough prisons to prevent an entire society that wants its freedom from achieving it.” In the longest conversations we had with Iranians, I tried to remind them of this, and I must confess that I cannot entirely understand why 100,000 women in Tehran, Shiraz and the other biggest cities don’t just suddenly take off their headscarves one day. But of course I understand that there are real risks, and that, while Iranians may be able to sense and desire the freedoms that we take as essential, I cannot feel the fear that someone who grew up in the Islamic regime feels. Until the day comes when freedoms are restored in Iran, many Iranian people will have to continue living parts of their lives underground, or emigrate, as so many are choosing. One fellow traveler we met in Iran, an Irishman, said that he would kiss the ground when he returned home. And indeed visiting Iran does make a visitor appreciate the freedoms he enjoys back home–but a better reaction than smugness or selfish relief is outrage, for these are freedoms that we should all be able to take for granted, should not even have to be thankful for. How to direct one’s outrage remains, of course, a difficult question.

Categories
Iran photo politics

Being American in Iran

“Down with Israel / Down with USA”

Wearing the Stars and Stripes

When we told other tourists in Iran that we were American, they, after expressing surprise that we could get an Iranian visa at all, were intensely curious at how our experience was, usually assuming the worst. We imagine you’re curious as well. So, what’s it like being American in Iran?

First and overwhelmingly, any impression that you may have of Iranians hating America or believing America to be the “Great Satan” is 99.9% wrong. To the contrary, almost all Iranians have an almost irrational love of America and Americans. My Iranian-American friend had told me this many times, but even then I did not realize the extent to which merely being American would make us recipients of so warm a welcome, indeed make us so popular in Iran. Almost everyone reacts favorably to our being American–more so than in any other country we have visited. When we told one older lady that we were American, she cooed, “Ooh–great! We love Americans!” One Swiss tourist that we spoke to told us that before she arrived in Iran she was afraid that people would think that she was American, and react badly to her. “I was so wrong,” she told us, “Iranians love Americans. They want to go to America!” We saw one man wearing second-hand U.S. military clothing and many others wearing New York Yankees baseball caps. One young man insisted on writing in my notebook, in English, “The people of Iran love the people of the U.S.A.,” and wanted me to distribute his message in the U.S. [done] We were even told that many young Iranians, despising their own government, like George W. Bush!

Why do Iranians love America so much? I think there are three factors: political, economic and cultural.

A primary reason that many Iranians like America is that they find their own government backward and oppressive, and think of America as the epitome of progress and personal and political freedom–to put it tritely, a beacon of hope. I am cautious of believing that this is the dominant reason why Iranians like America, but I do believe that it is at least as important as the economic and cultural ones, especially with younger Iranians. We even heard it said that if America invades Iran (yes, the thought is on their mind, although most Iranians seem to recognize that the U.S. currently has enough on its plate), there will indeed be some Iranians lining up to welcome the U.S. troops (though I imagine that in the event of an actual invasion nationalism and self-defense would kick in, and the vast majority of people would oppose the alien invaders). All of the anti-American propaganda put forth by the Islamic regime and its press? It seems almost totally disregarded. (I even recall reading an article during the darkest days of the U.S. invasion of Iraq that Iranians believed that the invasion was probably actually going smoothly, and that the Iranian media was misrepresenting American progress.) Far from thinking America an enemy, I imagine that many educated Iranians’ worldview is far more similar to that of people in the U.S. and the West than that held by their government.

Probably close behind, America represents economic prosperity and opportunity. Iranians have a sense that their country has what it takes, including especially a talented and well-educated populace, to be far more successful than it is today (and from our time in Iran we believe that this sense is correct), and many Iranians believe that the main thing stopping Iran from such material progress is its government. One Iranian told us that the Islamic Revolution, with its accompanying brain drain, flight of foreign investment and know-how, disconnection from the global economy and medieval laws, set Iran back 200 years, not an uncommon belief. (Part of what depresses the Iranian economy are of course international sanctions. But interestingly, and perhaps changing my ideas on the efficacy of sanctions, some Iranians we met put the blame for sanctions on their own government for its unwillingness to improve relations with other countries, rather than other countries for imposing them.) With so many problems at home, not only political but economic, many young Iranians hope to emigrate, we ourselves having met in our brief stay not only people who will be leaving Iran in the next year for the likes of Canada and Australia but many more who wanted to and were making longer-term plans to emigrate. Almost all Iranians who were planning or hoping to emigrate told us that America would be their first choice, were it attainable, I imagine not only because America is uniquely a land of immigrants and has a large Iranian community but because Iranians are very familiar with America from American popular culture.

Which leads us to the final reason, which is that there may be certain cultural affinities between Iran and the U.S. Traveling in Iran has helped me recognize how Hollywood is perhaps America’s greatest asset. Many Iranians have satellite television, and multiple channels feature solidly American programming, from movies to reality shows (they even get NPR!). Iranians took quickly to addictive American popular culture (its brashness may be in tune with Iranian culture, one person hypothesized), and see through it a world not only different from their own but also more appealing. We were also repeatedly told that Iranians like Americans more than Brits or Europeans because they think that Americans are friendlier, while Europeans are relatively cold and impersonal. Are Americans actually friendlier? Maybe, but we also suspect that Americans in particular (along with perhaps people from other English-speaking countries) are quicker to engage Iranians at a personal level, including especially in political discussions, instead of staying somewhat more aloof or cautious about approaching certain subjects, and that this eagerness to converse frankly may lead to a feeling of intimacy or closeness. (A western woman who studies Iran told me that despite America’s somewhat troublesome history with Iran and the Pahlavis in the 20th century (see my post of 6.5), few Iranians held a grudge against the U.S., although many Iranians still hold strongly negative views against the U.K. for its historical negative involvement in Iran.) Finally, it doesn’t hurt that there are so many Iranian-Americans, and that the U.S. is home to a pre-revolutionary Iranian culture in exile. Often, we heard music playing that was identified to us as “L.A. Iranian music,” or music from Iranian artists (including women, who are legally prohibited from singing in Iran) who fled to “Tehrangeles” after the Islamic Revolution.

To be popular and liked is nice, of course, even if only because we come from a particularly country. But traveling in Iran has also made us aware of some things about ourselves and America.

We are reminded how core to our beliefs certain American ideals are. Even with what we think are our liberal, open minds, certain issues stand out as black and white for us, and being in Iran has made these issues seem more clear and important than ever, as the lack of certain basic freedoms in Iran is mentioned with despair by many Iranians that we speak to. We didn’t come here to be propangandists for our system, or to make any kind of political point–we came as tourists. But political discussions constantly arise in Iran because Iranians love talking about politics, and because the circumstances of their country bring so vividly to the fore many political issues. Sometimes, Iranians we speak to simply ask what we think about our government or theirs. Other times, we get questions about Western perceptions of Iran or what we think about the hejab, or Islamic dress code. Because we are not satisfied at feeling smugly relieved that we’re from the “land of the free,” because we feel genuinely distressed about
the laws in Iran and because Iranians feel close to us, making us feel close to them, we have felt a moral obligation to give honest and complete answers, and not cursory or glib ones, so that people understand how we think and exactly what our objections are to certain aspects of the Iranian system. In almost every conversation we have with Iranians, they are disgruntled with their system, and we want to make clear to them that most of the world would agree that they should be disgrunted, and that they are right that things in Iran are askew. The Iranians’ friendliness, their mastery of English and their relative sophistication, all made us feel that they really should have what we have, in terms of civil liberties and a free society; everyone should, but almost especially them.

At the same time, I have come to recognize some arguably negative things about life in America and the West. When describing things in the U.S. and elsewhere, it is amazing how often sex, alcohol, gambling, etc., arise. We mentioned that we were in Bahrain immediately before Iran, and, when asked about Bahrain, had to explain how Saudis drive over the causeway for alcohol and prostitution, a very visible aspect of downtown Manama. We were talking about indigenous peoples, and ended up describing how U.S. Native American economies are now based largely on gambling. The same, of course, with Macau, pictures of which on our iPod we sometimes shared. (From the same set of pictures, we found ourselves explaining the redlight district near the former Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines.) Unwittingly, I would use sexual double-entendres with our tour guide (so much of our humor relates back to sex). Western culture is often, as Iranian clerics may argue, permeated with vice. While the same vices may exist to some extent in Iran, forced underground they are not nearly as visible or pervasive.

Perhaps most chillingly, being in Iran made me wonder whether this is the sort of outcome that religious conservatives want for America. Iran has it all: laws dictated by religion, sectarianism (in its persecution of faiths such as the Bahai), harsh punishments for private beliefs and acts, deviation from accepted international standards. I am not saying that the U.S. is Iran; while there is a strain of puritanicalism and evangelicalism running through American history the culture is nowhere near as traditional, the population as a whole not as devout, and, perhaps as important, separation of church and state is a stronger American tradition than adherance to a particular faith (whereas past Iranian governments, from the Sassanids to the Safavids, have very much tried to combine church and state). But many Iranians, at the time of the 1979 revolution, likely didn’t think that the new government would be an Islamic one, and to a certain extent it must have snuck up on them. And so it makes me believe freedom-loving Americans must be vigilant in making sure that the ideals they hold most dear persist in America.

One small story, a bit more personal: We met one Iranian man in Tehran who said that he had lived in the U.S. for over thirty years, and finally decided to move back to Iran, bringing with him his two young, American-born children. He told us how happy he was with his decision, including by relating to us that, on the first day of school in Iran, his boys had come home so relieved, so comfortable to be among people like themselves and away from the racial tension of their California school. I was simply appalled. Given the lack of freedoms in Iran, given the lack of economic opportunity, given that almost every young Iranian wants to move abroad, I simply could not believe that this man had brought his American children to grow up in Iran. My adversity was irrational, to a certain extent, but as an immigrant and having many immigrant friends, I was forced to imagine how different (and likely more difficult) the children’s lives would be because of their parents’ decision. I thought of all of the sacrifices my parents made to give us the chance to grow up in the U.S., and thought the Iranian-American selfish. Hearing him speak of America in the third person, as if he was not effectively American himself from having spent all of his adult life in the U.S., I was deeply offended. Hearing him say strongly negative things about American culture, including what I felt were outright falsehoods on the immigrant experience and the veracity of the “melting pot,” as if modern Iranian culture was, in the balance, superior, I feared that Iranians would believe his slanders. I expressed my outrage, somewhat to my discredit, which the man handled well.

Categories
photo politics Syria

Personality Cults

In the most common pose, outside Hamidiyya Souk in Old Damascus

More full post to come, time permitting, but I thought I would share with you some of the many portraits of Bashar and Hafez al-Assad (respectively, the current present and his deceased father and predecessor) that are all over Syria. Some of these, in public places, are clearly put there by the administration, but many (such as Bashar portraits in many shops and one Bashar family portrait we saw in a car) seem spontaneous and personal. One cynic told us that Syrians would wear underwear with Assad on it. All of the Syrians we spoke with on the subject seemed genuinely to like the Assads, even if they did not have warm feelings for the Syrian government overall. And, if you think about Syria as a monarchy, somehow it’s less strange that so many pictures of the leader would be plastered all over the place.

I think there is a focus on the persons of the Assads in Syria in large part because Syria as a state, like most others in the Middle East, is a creation of the West (in Syria’s case, Britain and France drew its boundaries). Without a discrete, unifying history or culture to distinguish itself from its neighbors, a country needs to define itself in other ways, and one of those is by a strong leader.

Father, in sight of the historic Hejaz railway station, Damascus

Son, at Lattakia railway station

At the Lebanese border

With Nasrallah of Hezbollah and Ahmedinejad of Iran, advertising a fast food shop in Old Damascus

Categories
photo politics Syria

Syria: A Police State?

Is Syria in 2008 a police state? Hard for us to say, but on a daily basis it does not seem to me that people feel under the thumb of the authorities. When asked about domestic politics people seem to speak freely (and generally favorably), there aren’t too many routine police checks on the streets or highways and the police/military presence is not overbearing, considering that there is compulsory military service (and therefore a lot of soldiers). It certainly feels freer than some other places we’ve been to, and generally not oppressive.

That said, we had an interesting experience today, and thought I would share it. It doesn’t exactly argue for Syria being a police state, but it does show that, under some circumstances, the police are quite active in keeping track of people and places.

We had a choice of a few different routes for our trip from Aleppo to Palmyra. For a desert change of pace, I thought that we would head all the way out to Deir ez-Zur, located on the Euphrates River near the Iraqi border, where we would overnight and then visit the Seleucid/Roman ruins of Dura Europos the next morning. We took a four hour bus to Deir ez-Zur, arriving late at night (and wandering for the next hour looking for a hotel that wasn’t full).

The next morning, we headed to the microbus station, where our eager taxi driver helped us locate the right minibus (the one to the town of Abu Kamal, which is on the Syrian/Iraqi border). However, the minibus driver wouldn’t let us in right away, saying that we needed to check in with the police, which had a small office at the station. We found this pretty peculiar (we never had to do it before when getting on a minibus, although regular bus and train rides generally required a check of identification), but guessed that it was because of course this was a sensitive border area.

There were three men in the small police office, and all were exceedingly friendly when we entered. There were “ahlen wa-sahlens” (“welcome,” by the far the phrase you hear most often in Syria) all around, followed by a few short questions (where we were from, where we were headed, and so forth). We were taken a bit aback when they named, in a casual though almost boastful manner, as if proudly offering proof of one’s own intelligence, the hotel we were staying in (there are at least seven or eight in town). The police officer wrote our details into a big register (not dissimilar from the process of checking into a hotel in Syria) and then handed us back to the minibus driver. We got on.

We noticed before we left that the identification numbers of the other passengers were also recorded, similar to the process for a regular (big) bus. We were somewhat surprised though, when, after all the paperwork was complete and right before leaving the station, our minibus was held up for a couple of minutes for an extra passenger, a rather fit young man, dressed casually yet vaguely seeming official, who sat in a space that is not usually occupied by passengers (at least not at the start of a route). Intuitively he seemed like ununiformed police or military, though at the time it was not clear.

[photo actually taken near Palmyra]

Dura Europos lies about a kilometer off of the main road from Deir ez-Zur to Abu Kamal, about twenty kilometers before Abu Kamal and the Iraqi border. A bit over an hour from Deir ez-Zur, we were dropped off on the main road outside of the ruins. When we got off, the young man got off the minibus as well, and asked us a few questions in English that was surprisingly good. Even given the nature of the questions (where are you from, where are you going, and so forth), the delivery seemed too perfunctory and without any apparent personal curiosity for our responses. When the minibus drove off (with him back on), we began wondering whether he wasn’t put on the minibus at the last minute to keep track of us, to make sure that we got off at our stated destination (a Roman ruin) rather than somewhere else (sensitive border areas).

From the highway, facing Palmyra Gate

We shrugged it off and toured the site. Dura Europos was founded by the Seleucids, one of the heirs to Alexander the Great’s adventures in the Near East. The city was then occupied by Parthians and then Romans, before being destroyed by the Sassanid Persians in 256 AD. The great discoveries at Dura Europos included incredibly rich, well-preserved frescoes located inside a synagogue (now in Damascus), a church (now at Yale in New Haven) and a Roman pagan temple (scattered in various places). These temples were mere blocks apart in the city, the Jewish synagogue being located literally across a small street from a temple to Adonis. And we think that we’re multicultural and tolerant now!

Within the city walls

Euphrates River valley, seen from Dura Europos

Anyway, toward the end of our visit we noticed that a local man was also looking around the site. There were very few tourists at Dura Europos (while we were there, we saw only one other pair of tourists, and some archeologists working in the brutal midday sun), but it wasn’t too suprising to see someone, and we didn’t think anything of it. Eager to get out of the sun, back to town and out to Palmyra, we started walking the kilometer or so back toward the main road, to pick up a minibus or hitch a ride.

When we were almost at the main road, we noticed that a white car had pulled up behind us. It was being driven strangely slowly (I had seen it coming a few minutes before), but we asked if they were headed to Deir ez-Zur, to see if we could get a ride. The answer was no–they seemed to indicate that they were headed the other way–and so we continued walking. When we got to the main road, however, the car, which had two occupants, just sat there at the intersection.

We were pretty annoyed because, naturally, having a car next to us, even if not ours, was likely to make it much harder for us to pick up a ride. The white car stood still at the intersection, the occupants chatting away, while a few cars passed by (including one that almost stopped for us, but then inexplicably sped up and drove by). After about ten minutes, we walked forward about a hundred meters along the main road, to put some space between us and the white car. Eventually, a minibus came, and we got in.

As we were getting situated (putting Derek and his knees in a minibus takes a bit of time), the white car drove up to the minibus flashing its headlights. The driver of the white car asked the driver of the minibus to come out, and there was a brief conversation and a paperwork exchanged. The minibus driver then read out a telephone number that was written on the minibus to the man in the white car. When the minibus driver got back in, he asked us in English, “Problem with the police?”

Our escorts

That’s when it became clear–we were being tracked by a series of ununiformed police officers (or delegates) ever since we left the bus station: first the man who road out with us, and then another man who kept an eye out for us in the ruins to ensure we got back on a vehicle to town. When we returned to the bus station, we were again temporarily detained at the police office (while our route was confirmed?)–again, all in the most friendly manner.

We mentioned this to our hotel owner in Deir ez-Zur, and he indicated that this was pretty standard practice. Because the city is located so close to a sensitive border, the police, we were told, do a daily circuit of all of the hotels to check guest registers. And, when tourists venture out of town in the direction of the Iraqi border, they a
re kept track of. The hotel owner said that the main purpose is, and I believe that it is, to make sure that foreign visitors (I suppose especially Americans, given potential problems we may face) are safe and out of danger. But I suppose a secondary purpose is to make sure that we’re harmless tourists, not engaging in any sinister activities.

Does our experience mean Syria is a police state? No, but the experience was surprising, a tiny bit unsettling and a first for us.

Categories
India photo politics

MGR

Riding through the countryside in Tamil Nadu, you see him everywhere. Who is this somewhat manically smiling old man, always pictured with his fur (?) hat, dark suglasses and prominently displayed expensive looking watch? (Actually, the whole image has a glamorous sheen, including the positioning of his hand.) I was certainly curious, and did some research (though I opted not to buy the book, MGR: The Man and the Myth–I read a review later saying that it’s not that great anyway).


M.G. Ramachandran (1917-1987), usually referred to as MGR, was a Tamil actor turned politican. A huge Tamil language movie star starting in the 1930s and 40s (Tamil film, called Kollywood, is third in India after Hindi and Telugu films, made in Bombay and Hyderabad, respectively), MGR was deeply interested in politics and eventually ran for office under the DMK (Dravidian Progress Federation) party, which was a Tamil ethnic/linguistic-centered party in Tamil Nadu. He launched a successful breakaway party called the ADMK (later AIADMK) in 1972, became Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu in 1977 and died in 1987. He was so popular that his death led to widespread mourning and chaos throughout the state, including numerous suicides, rioting and looting.

MGR being used to sell silk.

The first thing that I found strange about MGR, even before I knew who he was (though it was clear that he was a politician, from the posters he appeared on), was that each representation of him was essentially identical–he always has his hat, sunglasses and watch, and is often in exactly the same pose. I believe this is for a few reasons. One suggestion is that this fits well with an audience accustomed to Hindu iconography. Just as in Christianity Peter is presented with the keys to the Church and Paul with his sword, Hindu gods usually appear with set props in set poses. More generally in that same theme, these props help identify MGR immediately. Visual identification is of course important in societies that are not fully literate. I recall that Mexico City subway stations have icons that are prominently featured in addition to names, and in one visit to an Anglican church in Madurai we saw ballots for church committees which had photographs in addition to names. I imagine that ballots for state and national office in India may also have pictures, since political ads almost always feature what look like mug shots of the candidates. Easy and quick recognition is of course important for the literate, as well.

The other major thing that occurred to me, perhaps because I am unaware of more subtle meanings of MGR’s life and career, is the difference between Tamil and U.S. politics in their recognition of wealth and celebrity. Politicians in the U.S. are generally reluctant to display their wealth, instead identifying themselves as everymen (Kerry in a Carhartt vs. Kerry windsurfing or vacationing in Sun Valley; Bloomberg taking the subway (after riding to the station in a car); folksiness of Reagan or Perot). On the other hand, here’s MGR, who seems to have used (and his political successors continue to use) his superstar status in full, by presentation in such a glamorous/ritzy aspect. One person we spoke to said that MGR’s watch was like a computer, and stored large amounts of important information as well as performed calculations, assigning MGR a sort of superhero tool. To this day, people lay their ears on MGR’s well-visited tomb located off of the beach in central Madras to hear if the watch is ticking (he was buried also with his sunglasses and hat, we were told).

The cause for the difference may be twofold. First, wealth impresses in India. Like many Asian societies, India is wealth and status conscious, and the glamorous aspect of MGR and his fancy toys must have struck a sense of awe in some of the public. Wealth would also have contributed to an aura of incorruptability (just as it does in the U.S.), and MGR reportedly started his own party because he was concerned that the other members of the DMK were not sufficiently transparent. [One of MGR’s most popular programs was free meals at schools for students, and he was clearly a populist–I suppose if MGR was promoting more elite-favoring policies, it would have done him well to look less rich.]

But I think the more important difference, and why MGR’s moviestar status was played up, may be that MGR’s political success was directly related to his pop/mass culture superstardom. MGR wasn’t a movie star who happened to become a politician, but a movie star who was always political, even by wearing party colors in his roles. By being such a visible member of the Tamil-language culture (to be sure, Tamil-language movies would be something that Tamil speakers would have in common more than their compatriots who speak other languages, including especially the numerically and politically dominant Hindi speakers), who better than MGR to lead a party that was centered in part on being Tamil? The Tamils celebrate the fact that their language and culture are ancient, and do not want to feel secondary to Hindi speakers from up north (Tamil Nadu schools uniquely in India do not require the learning of Hindi, I read in one place). While not the equivalent of having Thiruvallular (the man whose statue stands on the island next to the Vivekananda Memorial in Cape Comorin, sort of like the Tamil Homer or Shakespeare it seems) as Chief Minister, having MGR as Chief Minister certainly highlights your Tamil-ness. And it seems that MGR was successful, someone around whom the Tamils could rally, and during his leadership Tamils gained representation at the some of highest levels of the national government.

MGR Memorial in Madras


Speaking of Tamils, as an aside one might be curious what the relationship between the Tamils of Sri Lanka and the Tamils of Tamil Nadu in India is. Sri Lanka is of course extremely close to Tamil Nadu, separated by the narrow Palk Strait and almost connected by Adam’s Bridge (a natural or man-made near-causeway connecting Sri Lanka to mainland India). The Tamils in Sri Lanka are Hindu and mainly located in the north and east, especially along the coasts [I believe they were more generally distributed throughout the island at one point, but the country has segregated to a certain extent in part due to the widespread mutual violence], while the Singhalese majority is Buddhist. Although MGR himself was born in Sri Lanka, near Kandy in the central highlands, it appears that there was no general support of Sri Lankan Tamils or the Tamil separatist movement by the Tamil Nadu government (perhaps such support would be too controversial, given that there is quite literally a war going on in Sri Lanka). And I believe India has tried to maintain an ability to intermediate between the Tamil separatists and the Sri Lankan government, to promote stability. No doubt though that Tamils in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka share a common culture, by virtue of history, religion, language and family connections.

Listening for the watch.