The fact that the usages, actions, and views of the well-to-do leisure class acquire the character of a prescriptive canon of conduct for the rest of society, gives added weight and reach to the conservative influence of that class. It makes it incumbent upon all reputable people to follow their lead. So that, by virtue of its high position as the avatar of good form, the wealthier class comes to exert a retarding influence upon social development far in excess of that which the simple numerical strength of the class would assign it. Its prescriptive example acts to greatly stiffen the resistance of all other classes against any innovation…. (Thorstein Veblen quoted in 3quarksdaily)
I can’t believe I’m missing Islamofascism Awareness Week back at Columbia. It sounds like so much fun to join together with other bigots and bash other people’s religion. Easy too.
The American right, at least a segment of it, has become truly Bonapartiste. It used to be the left that carelessly threw out the term fascist to attack their opponents, but no longer. Now opponents of imperial wars are being branded as fascists.
This ugly, dishonest word, Islamofascism, isn’t really directed against various forms of political Islam, it’s directed against domestic opponents, those of us who oppose the right wing agenda, particularly but not exclusively in regards to imperialist expansion in West Asia.
This evening, Caitlin and I went down to the IIC to see Lou Majaw, the Bob Dylan of the Northeast. I read an interview with him somewhere that he objected to this label. He’s the Bob Dylan of all India, not just the Northeast. I would grant that he’s at least the Bob Dylan of South Asia. He was actually really good. He was extraordinarily enthusiastic, and despite–or because of–his short short shorts, he rocked.
According to his introduction, he lives the music of Bob Dylan. I’m not sure what that means.
Anyway, he played a mixture of original songs, bluesy stuff, and covers, mostly Dylan. He’s been doing this since the sixties. I’m not sure how he really accessed this music back then. I bet it was pretty exciting to hear Dylan for the first time in the mountains of Northeastern India.
Lou Majaw seems like he’s still excited.
So the big trend trend these days is talking about books that one has not read. I seem to have done a passable job of it in my post on Invading the Sacred. Dozens of internautes (an unfortunate French neologism) seem to believe that my site is the premier site to launch an attack on academic freedom.
I think I bore everyone when I write about books that I’ve actually read, but so many books don’t really need to be read. I mean, I have opinions on The Israel Lobby even though I’ve never opened that book and am unlikely to. Ditto for Samuel Huntington and his neo-racist screeds.
I think this trend could really go somewhere. I could talk about albums I’ve never listened to, movies I’ve never seen, and software I’ve never used.
That Windows Vista sure is a piece of crap. Especially compared to the beautiful and functional, yet flawed, Leopard. And don’t get me started on the iPhone.
Now that I think of it, this blog has always been at its best when I don’t know what I’m talking about. I mean, when I discuss the topics I actually know something about (I am an expert, you know), my opinions are too subtle and esoteric to be of interest to anyone.
So enjoy, mes internautes!
So I haven’t posted anything here in a while. Mostly I’ve been traveling. I still am. I’m in Calcutta these days. I suppose I should post something just to break the silence.
Silence can be powerful, though.
My last real post, on Invading the Sacred, generated a lot of commentary. Of course, much of it is nonsense that has nothing at all to do with my original post. I think one commenter even argued that my critique of some of the comments didn’t make sense because they were talking about something entirely distinct from my original post.
It’s a little bit exciting to get some response, but the quality of the response is not quite what I’m looking for. It’s nice to know that some people have nothing better to do than argue on the internet. Are these the new culture wars?
I’ve been thinking of using this space to try to articulate political principles. I don’t do it, though, so maybe it wouldn’t be interesting to me, let alone to both of you who read my blog.
Maybe this blog is just outdated. It’s been going for over four years, and I haven’t even lived on 113th Street in well over a year. Maybe I just need to start over.
My recitation of the brutal facts about punishment in today’s America may sound to some like a primal scream at this monstrous social machine that is grinding poor black communities to dust. And I confess that these brutal facts do at times incline me to cry out in despair. But my argument is analytical, not existential. Its principal thesis is this: we law-abiding, middle-class Americans have made decisions about social policy and incarceration, and we benefit from those decisions, and that means from a system of suffering, rooted in state violence, meted out at our request. We had choices and we decided to be more punitive. Our society—the society we have made—creates criminogenic conditions in our sprawling urban ghettos, and then acts out rituals of punishment against them as some awful form of human sacrifice. (Glenn C. Loury in Boston Review)
There’s a new book out called Invading the Sacred that “analyzes the representation of Hinduism in American academia.” In an article in the Indian news magazine Outlook, Aditi Banerjee, one of the book’s editors, explains her reasons for being involved and summarizes the book’s argument.
The article is worth reading as a clear statement–well, as clear as is possible–of the moderate case being made by some Hindus against the academic study of Hinduism in the West. Less moderate critics have sent death threats, physically assaulted scholars, and advocated state censorship of academic works. Banerjee does none of these things, so I’ll allow her position to stand on its own without lumping her with unsavory elements who happen to share some of her views.
Such discretion is not something that Banerjee extends to the targets of her polemic. On the basis of three examples–torn out of their original contexts–she paints an extremely unflattering portrait of Hindu studies in the United States. Her portrait is false. Freudian analysis is not the central approach to the study of Hinduism in the US. It is, at best, a fringe approach. None of the scholars of Hindu traditions whom I know are, as far as I know, currently engaged in research projects that could be described as Freudian.
There’s not a direct line between scholarship and teaching. Research necessarily, and appropriately, focuses on the specific and the discordant. Teaching, particularly in an introductory undergraduate setting, involves trying, at least some of the time, to portray the big picture. Good teaching can help students to grasp the big picture but also to see its flaws. In the many classes on South Asian religion that I’ve taken and TAed for, I’ve never met a professor who sought to defame or exoticize Hinduism in any way. Every single one of them has sought to portray Hinduism in a sensitive, accurate, non-exotic, and generally positive light. I say generally positive because an entirely positive portrayal is simply impossible. After all, plenty of Hindus criticize aspects of the tradition. These Hindus should not be sidelined. My experience is admittedly limited, but it includes Paul Courtright, who has been singled out for attack in this article and elsewhere. I have had issues with the representations of Hindu traditions by particular professors, but I don’t think any of them were ever acting in a deliberately malicious way.
Others may have had different experiences. If Banerjee was really presented with Jeffery Kripal’s book as academic truth in college then she was done a disservice. Part of good humanities teaching is to communicate how knowledge comes to be regarded as authoritative as well as to give students a glimpse of how scholarly knowledge production takes place. Teaching Kripal’s book without dealing with the controversy around it would be substandard pedagogy.
Don’t get me wrong, very negative representations of Hindus, Indian, and South Asians are extremely common in American society. Much of teaching undergraduates about Hinduism involves trying to make them aware of these pervasive biases and to dispel them.
The confusion that I allude to above enters into Banerjee’s argument when she attempts to present the Hindu side of the story. She uses ‘we’ as though it is entirely clear who this ‘we’ is. Occasionally there are direct contradictions. She criticizes Vijay Prashad for calling the Bhagavad Gita an “experiment in truth” that is therefore not divinely revealed. Later, she attempts to define Hinduism and says that it originated “from experience, from realisation, and not from revealed dogma.” Which is it? Is Hinduism revealed or does it stem from “experiments in truth?” And hasn’t she read Gandhi? What exactly is wrong with calling the Gita an experiment in truth?
I think what this gets down to is that there is not a single Hinduism. There are many Hindu traditions that overlap and interact in complex and interesting ways. To insist on a monovocal Hinduism that speaks with a single ‘we’ is to insist on sidelining all but the most powerful voices in the tradition. This is true for all religions, not just Hinduism, but the irony is particularly strong here. Hindus have often prided themselves for the diversity and inclusivity of their religion. Why try to drown out the many beautiful (and not-so-beautiful) voices that aren’t convenient at the moment?
More ‘insiders’ are needed in the academic study of Hinduism. For a variety of reasons, not enough Hindus have pursued advanced degrees in religious studies. Religious studies is not a field in India, and the bright children of immigrants from India seem much more likely to take up professions such as law (ahem) and medicine. I don’t think active discrimination has played a role in the current state of affairs, but I’d be open to hearing evidence to the contrary. The general opacity of academic decision making leaves academia open to accusations of discrimination, often with good cause. But that’s another issue.
On previous celebrations of the independence of the United States of America, I’ve posted excerpts from Frederick Douglass’s “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” I wasn’t planning on doing any thing of the sort this year, but with the Supreme Court rolling back Brown v. Board of Education and the Tyrant George II continuing to threaten our republic with his dreams of empire, I had to post something.
I imagine some people would think that I’m simply being contrary by quoting Frederick Douglass on the Fourth of July. It is a day to celebrate independence and national accomplishments, after all, not a day to remember past wrongs. Slavery is not one of the crimes of which the current government of the United States is guilty.
So, as is appropriate to the day, I will leave you with a quotation from the Declaration of Independence, drafted by my favorite slave-owning lover of liberty Thomas Jefferson and adopted by the Continental Congress on this day 231 years ago.
We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their CREATOR, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, that Governments long established, should not be changed for light and transient Causes; and accordingly all Experience hath shewn, that Mankind are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the Forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long Train of Abuses and Usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object, evinces a Design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their Right, it is their Duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future Security. (link)
Nick Dirks’ latest volume, The Scandal of Empire: India and the Creation of Imperial Britain, is ostensibly about the impeachment trial of Warren Hastings. This book is by no means the first to be written on this topic. After all, Edmund Burke’s prosecution of Hastings was the trial of the eighteenth century. Dirks, however, contributes a new perspective. By putting the empire on trial, Dirks persuasively argues, Burke cleared away the inevitable scandals of acquiring an empire (never a pretty process) and made ruling India part of the legitimate national project of Britain. Once scandal was no longer a characteristic of the imperial rulers, it was transferred to the colonial subjects. Henceforth, it would be Indian society that was characterized by scandal. In the early nineteenth century, British administrators and an increasingly evangelical public at home would become incensed by suttee, thugee, and other supposed characteristics of Indian society. The British people would take up the burden of empire to bring the heathen out of the darkness. Dirks is admirably clear, though, that the burden of empire was always the burden of the colonized; it was never the burden of the colonizers.
The context of The Scandal of Empire’s publication was the occupation of Iraq by the United States. Dirks does not hesitate to draw comparisons between the British Empire and this new resurgence of territorial colonialism.
Since the publication of this book, the occupation of Iraq has become more and more scandalous for the US population. It is not hard to imagine a spectacular trial or impeachment of high administration officials. Already, Democratic politicians are seeking to place blame for the “quagmire” in Iraq on particular figures in the Bush administration: Rumsfeld, Cheney, and Bush himself, for instance.
Could such an approach ultimately serve the interests of empire? Could sweeping the original architects of war out of the way serve to legitimize the long-term occupation of Iraq and the extension of direct US rule to other parts of the world? I regularly hear the argument that the war was a mistake but the US needs to remain in Iraq to prevent a sectarian civil war. The scandal of empire shifts from occupier to occupied. But then again, the imperialists had their arguments down even before the invasion. And look at how they’re talking about Iran these days. Oppression of women, denial of human rights, suppression of democracy, anti-Semitism, and failure to comply with international weapons norms all become justifications for imperial intervention. The truth of these accusations, which is mixed, is irrelevant. The scandal is not the hundreds of thousands or millions dead in Iraq because of invasions and sanctions. The scandal is the failures of Middle Eastern society to act in a properly “modern” way.
Empire does not serve the interests of the colonized. One people does not have the right, much less the duty, to dominate another. If we remember this historical fact and this basic moral principle, the justifications for empire, present or past, seem much flimsier
I first heard Neutral Milk Hotel on a drive back to Atlanta from the Highlander Center in Tennessee. This band’s masterpiece is undoubtedly the brilliant In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, an album which is immediately and enduringly engaging. Neutral Milk Hotel’s sound is jarring and dissonant and sprawling and yet clearly centered on the tightly focussed artistic vision of Jeff Mangum.
I don’t really know how to write about music. Pop music’s not really about the music, anyway, is it? It’s more about the emotional attachment that it makes with the listener or the emotional attachment that it facilitates between listeners. In the summer of 2000, I saw both Patti Smith and Sleater-Kinney perform. Both were very Durkheimian experiences. Both, incidentally, were very hot experiences in (temporarily) non-air-conditioned spaces in the Georgia summer: lot’s of effervescence and sweat. That’s what rock’n'roll is supposed to be about, right?
That’s a very different engagement with music than Lou Reed (I think) envisioned in his imagination of a teenager listening to a Velvet Underground record at 3am alone in his or her room. An intense emotional connection can be forged in both cases, but one is based in collective experience and the other in solitude. Sharing music with friends through playing records, trading mix tapes, or loaning out CDs facilitate more personal connections. Wandering city streets with an ipod/walkman or downloading new music fit in this tradition in ways that we don’t fully grasp yet.
One of the best places to read about great albums is in the 33 1/3 series published by Continuum. These books are slender, well constructed volumes that somehow engage with a single album. Kim Cooper, a music and pop culture journalist, has written a book on In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. This book, like the other books in the series, is a book to read if you already love the album. Could anything be more boring than reading a book about an artifact of pop culture that hasn’t already captured your imagination? In that sense, this book is like souped-up liner notes, but if you’re a Neutral Milk Hotel fan (I know they’re not for everyone, but isn’t that part of the appeal?) then this short book is well worth your time. At the very least, it dispels some of the wild myths about Jeff Mangum et al.
I never got the chance to see Neutral Milk Hotel play live (although I did hear Jeff Mangum sing a few lines with Olivia Tremor Control during one of their reunion shows in New York to rock star adulation from the crowd: “Ladies and gentleman, Jimmy Page!”). I hear it was a wild affair with apparent chaos barely coalescing (sometimes at least) into brilliance. A bit like Animal Collective, I guess.
In that sense, my connection to this album is more in the Lou Reed than the Sleater-Kinney mode. When I listen to Neutral Milk Hotel, I remember driving back from Tennessee, downloading tracks from Napster (really, though, listen to this album as a whole), sitting on my rooftop in Udaipur, and walking through Cambridge. Not to mention flying across the ocean in an airplane. I suppose portability really does change the way we experience music.
I wonder what Walter Benjamin would have had to say about that.
Those of you who read this blog through an RSS reader may not have noticed that I have restored comments. Previously, I had purged all comments, which was probably a mistake, but there weren’t too many of them anyway. I was frustrated with the high percentage of comments that were simply spam, and who doesn’t enjoy a good purge? Now, however, I’ve made it easier to comment (no registration or the like is required), and I’ve given recent discussion a prominent place in the sidebar. Hopefully, the chance to have your name in lights will encourage more of you to join in and tell me how wrong I am.
