Important to read Dan Glazebrook and Sukant Chandan as they take apart the British ‘foreign policy’ machinations that help no-one here or there:
Rereading Jay Murphy’s book Artaud’s Metamorphosis and thinking about the 30,000 pages of notes Marx is said to have written in the last ten years of his life – and which are only slowly being released through the MEGA. Then find Jay has the following on page 207:
Artaud’s last works are above all, an action, a setting of forces into motion. In examining how he accomplishes this, largely from the springboard of the copious 406 lined school notebooks of which there are some more than 30,000 pages, at times there is the temptation to mimic his method by fracturing the field, separating out the elements that come into conflict, such as sound image text, or even their constituent bodily sources, and it is by such recourse that I isolate the treatment of the face and the voice at the end of this chapter; to see better how they interact, meld, hover, disintegrate or invade other elements…
I won’t reproduce his analysis because the whole book needs to be bought, and the notes still need to be written, but along with Walter Benjamin’s obsession with certain notebooks, whatever was in that case, add also anthropology’s note-writing fix exemplified in Mick Taussig’s drawings for I swear I saw This, and the entire complex of more or less uncanny parallels that revolve around the lined page, schoolbook or not, I’m hankering to generate some sort of method for handling the detritus of the (allegedly) declining years. Plus starting a new journal for my eldest now.
Thanks Kaloy Cunanan for recovering this from ascii-land.
An article on the multi-function polis in Malaysia, from 1999
appeared in Bosma, Josephine et al (eds) 1999 Readme! ASCII Culture And The Revenge Of Knowledge, New York: Autonomedia.
A longer unpublished version is Semi-Feudal Cyber-Colonial.
[A set of cuts that jettison the last underworked section of the book – residue of a previous plan, now offcuts in the sawdust.]
Ethnography as a hobby or habit. The day off.
With comrades, significantly not anthropologists, I visited the 2012 London Mela with this in mind: to make clear a parochial orientation, as comparative diasporic-settler dispensation, that conviviality and cosmopolitanism were not only buzz words, but also not much put into everyday political context. The Mela in Gunnersbury Park looks just like the Mela films I’ve described [forthcoming book]. I half expect a storm to rise up, the weather in so-called British summer is so unpredictable. The initial interactions we have are screen-time-esque, we pose for a selfie, someone is shooting video for Asianet or similar, vox pops on why we are here before we even get past the entrance gate. If it is also a media event inside it is also at least a welcome escape from wall-to-wall screen time, a temporary respite from media under the trees where the carcinogens and drones cannot so easily reach, and Wi-Fi options are rubbish. Phones in our pockets though, and texting to find each other when lost in the crowd works with a delay, perhaps because of the crowds, or the cops. The world in microcosm already begins to replicate the exotic locations of non-resident and diasporic masala drama.
We meet with friends and join conversations on the events of the day, we set about setting the world to rights, as Mrinal Sen once told me was the point of adda (personal communication 1998). There are a number of Melas held throughout the UK in summer – Nottingham, Leicester, Bradford are regulars – and researching South Asian musics made this too part of that amorphous festive research non-category then in its sonic register in the North of England. Anticipating relaxation and conversation, but also some stage action, as well as decent food, sunshine – it is London in summer, I am still wary – and carnival rides, we seek out the sensibility of diasporic South Asias in this idea of conviviality, the social reproduction of support and solidarity. Under austerity this is also strained and increasingly threatened, as ever, but still it can be identified. The idea of community as manifest in Gunnersbury Park, in the family groups welcoming relatives, children, friends and comrades in convivial festive embrace is the take-home experience of Mela.
At Gunnersbury Park there is the chance of taking an angular, or should it be greater, more expansive, interpretive perspective over the everyday routines that leave convention untouched. Mundane and routine and full of problems it may be, but life and food and music and weather are more nuanced than all your concepts and theories. Isn’t it important to think about these things more than the conceptual egotism of non-referential writing for impact, awards or self-advancement.
This year the Ferris wheel is wholly commercial, but offered fun times and an atmosphere of celebration in contrast to the mood of the previous year just three weeks after London had been ‘consumed’ by riots AKA uprising after the police had killed the unarmed Mark Duggan. Other contextualising factors can be listed, but in the 2012 edition even before getting to the venue and the memory of the previous year’s uprisings, police panic and government rhetoric was on display amidst quite different feelings both before and after the Olympics event. I introduce my partner to a friend after we arrive and it turns out they both have previously lived in one of the most effected areas in 2011, the borough of Ealing was subject to ‘disorder’ on the third night of the uprising. What to say of those events? A vast number of words were spilled in the press and in research reports which tried to explain why London erupted in ‘spontaneous bouts of aggressive late night shopping’ as one government pundit glossed it on BBC’s Newsnight. A subsequent police crackdown, with emergency courts convened, and youths sent to prison for not paying for bottled water, buns, cans of drink or DVDs.
Looking back from Mela to the previous August, of 2011, there are videophone images of wrongful arrest added to a vast rota of unacceptable and flagrant disregard of process on the part of the police. No surprise was expressed about this in conversation with people too often at the sharp end of stop and search interventions in present-day London. While Mela is relaxed, it is impossible to consider any community gathering without remembering the wider record of murders by Police that to date have gone unaddressed in the UK. This because of the presence of numbers of Jankel armoured police vans and busloads of riot cops waiting in the streets not far from Gunnersbury Park. A vivid reminder that multicultural celebration has a harsh reception in some sections. The cops for one, but also the well to do art crowd, the bureaucrats and managers, those who are cops in other uniforms. Exposure of Police murders in London, as documented in the film Injustice (2000 dir. Fero/Mehmood), shows that community policing, with its stop and search power and ready-response teams, is no straightforward ‘service’ – friendly cops at a carnival – but rather comes across often as aggressive and provocative threat well beyond lawful regulations. If the police have an explicit duty of care, there are far too many examples where this has broken down in ‘broken Britain’.
The London Mela in 2012 was the tenth version of that event, and it was no surprise our next discussion about the Olympics served as contrast to the previous year of conflict. The Mayor of London’s ‘celebrations’ (strangely possessive mode of expression) for Eid ul Fitr had been moved to Gunnersbury Park because of the Paralympics. Boris Johnson’s sponsorship of the Eid stage at the Mela was quite some way from his celebrated – and heckled – appearance with a broom to clean up the streets in Clapham the previous year. Perception on the ground, as opposed to the media, often runs a different course. What this means is that political self-regard is a mere contrivance – the idea that Mela can suggest an alternative modality for thinking of culture, commerce and globality, a vernacular form of cultural exchange already there in the city, but countermanded by the presence of Johnson and the cops.
The impact of the Olympics raised discussion of a long history of disconnect between the white Left and the militant Black and Asian anti-imperialists. One comrade railed against the ways the SWP had mismanaged Stop the War (STW), claiming leadership of the activist coalition, failing to ‘Stop’ the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, and presiding over a decline in numbers mobilised from the high-point of February 15th 2003, when two million people protested in London. Sectarian splits and squabbles left the organisation as a dysfunctional rump by 2007, while the wars escalated. Subsequent silence on NATO involvement in Libya was only confirmation of the ineffectual character of STW (Chandan 2015). So much so, even the suggestion that STW might ‘mobilise’ to attend the Mela and protest Johnson’s sponsorship was laughable. Sitting in the sun by the Eid stage, which was somewhat away from the commercial parts of the Mela further up the park in Gunnersbury, it was easier to enjoy a day out without the constant need to negotiate the egos of self-promoting anti-racist pseudo-Left posturing. This does not mean the day was without cost or exertion. Long queues for the food at the Moti Mahal restaurant tent, curiosity piqued at what the Rotary Association, the Red Cross or the Post Office had to offer amongst the various stallholders. Membership, health aid, and special parcel rates for the subcontinent were the obvious answers easily found. Clothing stalls sold tie-dye and kaftans from what seems like a much earlier era, and the travel company next door to the Bikram Yoga promotional stand made appropriate partners in the business of getting away from it all – the global extension and adaptation of yoga to suit varied European and North American audiences, regardless of culture, is phenomenal. Selling yoga back to South Asians as a novelty must be one of the strangest twists in the convoluted game. Wondering what people made of that. To look at London activism through the eyes of those in the British-Asian contingent, informed and critical of Islamism or Hindutva as represented in its war versions, is a necessary empathy that needs more effort. There are so many who are far more knowledgeable of the culture turned exotic and the cinema made subject of study than I can be, which means being left thinking there is still too much to learn. Yet the suggestion is readily accepted that on the one hand NATO attacks, on the other, the Olympics, might be taken as a dialectical code through which to understand ‘the two Augusts’ of festival Britain.
Olympic Mela I
The Olympics featured Akram Khan, Anish Kapoor and Eric Idle. The connection between the two Augusts as quite different manifestations of the ‘same’ South Asian cultural management was easy enough to put forward. One August was an uprising with slow but certain legal containment and subsequent media-managed clean up. The second August an extravaganza of merchandising, replete with invitations to well-known and unknown celebrity South Asian figures curating some of the events. The Olympic ceremony was choreographed by a master of ‘new intercultural’ dance, Akram Khan (see Mitra 2015); a twisted challenge to the Eiffel tower was offered by Anish Kapoor as ‘helter skelter’ in the form of the ArcelorMittal Orbit which stood outside the Olympic stadium in Stratford; Eric Idle provided the comic relief. Then Prime Minister David Cameron celebrated the Olympics as a triumph of British business. Uncomfortably, he had to negotiate a complex investment in attending the opening and closing ceremonies while denouncing the declining school sports programming that permits ‘Indian Dancing’ and other non-competitive formats. All the while mouthing platitudes about support for Islam as a religion of peace, while leading trade delegations to Arms Fairs to sell British weapons to despots – with Britain having the 6th highest grossing armaments industry, but the largest percentage of third world sales.
Eric Idle, of the Monty Python comedy team, was perfecting his version of bhangra-style dancing at the Olympic ceremony after singing ‘Always look on the bright side of life’. It would be mean to mock another of the pensionable comedy circuit over such a feel-good expression, but contrasted with the Prime Minister’s pronouncements, this may be considered the high point of political critique in neo-liberal multi-racist Britain. Idle dancing, while Akram Khan watches on and Anish telescoping the view from the tower. How can this confluence sit except as provocation to understand Global South Asia as a zone of interpretation in a war that has two polarities – bombing and exotica? More disturbing perhaps was that the closing ceremony was a kind of expression of release and frankly unexpected comforting celebration. Surprising success in track and field accompanied by no serious logistical breakdowns, and of course no terror ‘incident’ meant the closing ceremony contrasted massively with the atmosphere before the games. The Prime Minister no doubt daydreamed of a poll uptick, on the back of a recovering economy – which was not to be, as the recession seemed locked-in via a mix of austerity policies and permanent stagnation. Citizens wore their Olympics volunteer shirts for weeks after the event, and the stain on the capital from the previous August was seemingly erased. Or at least all those subject to austerity measures were silenced, or had migrated north. Prime Minister Cameron himself felt emboldened enough to praise the games and the people of London, even at one point mentioning its diversity. No mention of the weapons programme, the medals forged by Riotinto, the payback and corporate favours that secured the event in the first place, and his palpable relief to have bumped the criticisms of austerity off the front page of the press for a while. His Brexit demise still some way off, the critique of ‘Indian dancing’ managed to signal the two poles of a demonisation and exoticist versioning of Global South Asia together even as the image was simplified in a cultural attack. All that is wrong with contemporary Britain was put right in an imaginary fantasy of a sporting pay-off from the Olympics, with school children once again competing in robust, muscular, athletic contests and effete aerobic non-sports triumphantly excised from the curriculum. Global South Asia had thereby degraded under Cameron’s misrule in favour of an image of Eric Idle pointlessly ‘dancing’ while Britain rejoiced in a victorious new dawn of escalating armaments investment and a still greater, if secret death squad proxy war on terror compliment to austerity as the permanent solution to fiscal needs.
Melodrama of the worst kind, her Royal Richness, parachuting in with James Bond was the only saving grace, until the shock of recognition wore off and the multi-millions of extorted wealth in Olympic proportions reminded us that transference and projection are the vehicles of deceit. The allegorical national fantasy here is that 007 protection and a combat ready grandmother can keep the old Empire spirit alive, even if displays of the Koh-i-noor and other splendid stolen baubles are demoted to commonwealth events and shares in the mining industry, weapons trade and off-shore schemings are the real treasures of the day.
In the Mela event immediately after the Olympics it was possible to dwell upon the resources expended to put on and maintain these community cohesions. The logistics of carnival do not extend as far as they do for sport in general, where infrastructural dispensation from Whitehall confers responsibility to set up subsequent decades of enhanced school sports curriculum and competitive business initiatives. The work involved at Gunnersbury Park, without as many volunteers, but still some in branded identification t-shirts, was both incredibly popular and clearly taxing. The steward responsible for the cash box seemed distracted, the cleaners behind the scenes and the coordinators of the amateur Bharatanatyam dance groups were apparently underpaid but dedicated beyond the call. Others were volunteers of a more regular variety, staff of parents’ shops, regulars on the festival circuit, still others roped-in for a one-off. Who else works to make Mela happen? The website operators, those responsible for publicity and liaison with the press, including TV crews which came down at dusk – when the light is best perhaps – and took their story with a few sound bites from the organisers. An appearance by the local councilor, and security provided for them, band security, port-a-cabin monitor – and delivery, maintenance, catering. The significant effort of community organisation members to make an event like the London Mela go off well is not a negligible contribution to annual GDP. It is often unwaged work, not seen or remunerated, as if it were a freely given gift, but even here – as Marx would help us see – the contribution of all parts of the society to the society of surplus labour extraction somehow always contributes, in the end, to the reproduction of labour capacity and profit.
Olympic Mela II
Is it still plausible to talk of allegorical Mela if the London 2012 Olympics is presented as national-ideological and Global South Asian festival-exotica in turn? Analysis means working through the corporate-ideological in the use of the games to provide opportunities for Riotinto to forge the medals and ArcelorMittel to build the tower; the psychological-ideological category of internal revolt in the opening and closing ceremonial performances and the success of Mo Farah; and finally to contrast the threat of international terror-ideological in the surface–to-air missiles stationed very publicly in parks before the games with the affable performative-ethnographic exoticist Pythonesque rendering of the British nation as neo-Global South Asia at the end. Each of these interpretations accesses dimensions of the current corporate psycho-terror-exotic dispensation in turn. At the same time, I do not want to dismiss the critique of allegorical focus as homogenisation and must recognise the Games did function as a celebratory resolution and in fact transformation of a concerted pre-games anxiety. The weeks before the celebration and increased sensitivity to tabloid headlines on corruption and security stemming in part from the previous domestic and international year of rioting and war. The weeks after, a smug satisfaction, and continued austerity and war, with barely felt gestures such as Johnson’s sponsorship of the Eid stage and the installation of a wax figure of Madhuri Dixit at Madame Tussauds.
Is it too strange then to see the Olympics as a melodramatic staging of a festival of Global South Asia – the London Eye and the Ferris wheels of Mela as the chakra in the middle of the Indian national flag, the images of diasporic London in Bollywood cinema and Gunnersbury Bagh all as part of a representation of Asia that has escaped its moorings to do cultural duty for the geopolitical intrigues of business and arms traders.
[ninth in a series of scrapbook overflow/rejects]
Yet ‘Epistemological performance is how you construct yourself and the world as an object of knowing’ says Spivak at the University of Kwazulu-Natal 8th Annual Teaching and Learning on Higher Education Conference. This was a workshop on her book An Aesthetic Education in the Era of Globalization, (Spivak 2012). The effort of trying to train oneself towards openness to how others perform, and making this a part of a way of reading that also would resist inevitable exoticism and complicity, perhaps requires a more nuanced dialectic to which many are often not adequately sensitive. Admirable that this constructs the world, life, knowledge as equitable domain of differences, or at least the chance to imagine such differences.
Paraphrasing: the construction of knowledge as a knowledge industry is a cul-de-sac of meaningless vocationalism, repetition skills and information processing, not wisdom or learning what can be learned…
[and I really regret losing this, but its for another book, with updates after reading a lot of fafffffffffffs]: No less a ‘firing squad’ than the Chilcot Iraq Inquiry soft peddled the war crimes and encouragements to reaction given by bleeding heart prime ministers of dubious reputation. Blair’s questioning by Chilcot was more a pre-election stump speech than investigation or war crimes tribunal – documentation here: http: //www.iraqinquiry.org.uk/ (accessed March 10 2010). With Chilcot not planning to deliver the final report until after the 2015 election, as of June 2015, still no sign of the report, and Blair had been appointed to yet another new post (‘Palestinians baffled by decision to appoint Tony Blair to chair European Council on Tolerance and Reconciliation’ Telegraph June 13 2015). Still no sign of the report, mid 2015, but petitions to have Blair up in front of the War Crimes Tribunal widely supported, giving some cheer. When it finally came on 6 July, 2016 – a day before the ten year anniversary of the 7/7 London bombing – the report was buried in an avalanche of volumes, too expensive for popular reading, too thick for journalists to summarise, uninspiring for public commentary, and so buried in plain sight without any action on the calls to charge Blair.
[and these movie recommendations:]
This is true if the images are big political movement material, from Maoists fighting the Kuomintang depicted as a fanatic horde in the Barbara Stanwyck vehicle, The Bitter Tea of General Yen (1933 dir. Capra) – an impressive film nevertheless for its early interracial romance – through to the ways violent political encounters in Vietnam were framed as humour, with the soldiers singing the Mickey Mouse Club theme song: ‘M.I.C.K.E.Y’ as a dirge in Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket (1987 dir. Kubrick). That same year Robin Williams was making a joke of the ‘Police Action’ in Good Morning Vietnam (1987 dir. Levinson), reprising the compromises of journalism already shown with Mel Gibson dining out in The Year of Living Dangerously (1982 dir. Weir) or of medics portraying the earlier war in Korea as contemporary allegory in M*A*S*H (1970 dir. Altman). There are many examples. If the footage is too real or too harsh, it is relegated, even when screened. Controversy surrounded the allegorical execution of a boy in MIA’s Romain Gavras song video Born Free (2010), but the 2009 atrocity video of Tamils executed by the Sri Lankan military in a UN ‘refugee camp’ was ignored. Despite video ‘evidence’ entered into a public ‘news’ system that is not designed to offer due process under law, the Rodney King video was dissected and anatomised by lawyers to normalise and exonerate the violence of that arrest while Tonight Show TV hosts did jokes. Only where globally connected communities fight for justice denied is there any degree of return.
What has all this to do with the topic? Can’t we just have more about Bollywood and music video, an upbeat tempo, several layers of colour and a massive popular following? Why fill up this book with lamentations about violence and appreciations of the films of Mrinal Sen and Anand Patwardhan? Who are ‘you’ to enter this domain? Let the experts then talk of film and you talk of ‘police actions’ as war someplace else.
I watch the films so that you will too.
That this big tent includes some wide stripes, but despite criticisms of the cash-in and anti-Muslim bias, Chadha making Bride and Prejudice and Viceroy’s House is still among those examples that work against the trend Mann identifies of films without serious treatment of issues. Alongside, of course, if not as lucrative, the Kureishi films, and examples like Wild West (1992), East is East (1999) and several others. It is not impossible to agree that, except perhaps in a few rare films, it is difficult to find films that offer ‘serious treatment of diaspora lives or any real engagement with their foreign homelands’ (Mann 2014: 499).
Is it possible to suggest there is more to be done here even if it is hard to disagree with the assessment that ‘NRI films, with their overwhelmingly reductive, stereotypical approach to the West, contribute to Bollywood’s churning out of preppy, feel-good romances, with song and-dance sequences punctuated by little narrative, and filmmakers reduced to entertainers solely’ (Mann 20145: 499). If structure, reverse stereotype, liminal phase and open interpretive quest are considered it becomes clear that many other factors are in the mix. No easy classification should control the interpretive frame, even if there may be co-ordinates mapped, probes and provocations sent out, cartographers and depth psychology, conversationalists and even ethnographers deployed.
South Asian film and television studies here then operate a range of perspectives and themes that could, for the purposes of experiment, be placed within the allegorical orbit of multiplicity and at least mark out a relation to a slightly more complicated tracking of historical developments. Without getting into the rights and wrongs of this move, reassessment of themes allows a summary. This would necessarily include the allegorical, as discussed, but perhaps just as powerful is the shift from ‘high nationalism’ to decolonising psychological with studies like those of Nandy (1998: 18). In the return and realisation, if not culmination, of ideology critique enabled by work of Madhava Prasad and those he released, or unleashed, openings like the Journal of the Moving Image at Jadavpur and the consolidation of cultural studies at Bangalore show what has begun. Work in the UK on diasporic film (see Kaur and Sinha 2005, bibliography in Dudrah 2012) also includes new ethnographic studies on venues, distribution, the extension of culture through family, financially driven migration and multiplying technological formats, but thus far this work still awaits any significant institutional commitment and funds.
 The early study of cassette culture by Peter Manuel in 1993 should not be forgotten. A trajectory then extending through the arrival of VCR and cassette tapes to the corner cable stall, the rewiring of neighbourhood connectivity and the explosion of satellites and portable screens, the purchase of technology is and its ‘alternate picture of globalisation’ in the pirate economy (Vasudevan 2013: 212, Sundaram 2009) now ends with the Internet bringing both global unity and ‘venomous diatribes’ on YouTube (Manuel 2013: 379).
The dynamic of political allegory requires a suture between specificity and the global, and film in diasporic and commercial circulation can provide that. The point is variously expressed.
In a different way, but with a parallel structuring, Moinak Biswas suggests that ‘the “person” becomes the last source of morality and ethics in the melodramatic world’. Black and white here infuses ‘ordinary human actions with larger significances’ (Biswas 2000: 128). The conjugal scene in private and intimate lives always also looks forward to the future, and so the family values variety of moral order claims general importance. The other political, outward facing, social critique, of class, of colonialism, oppression and war looks to the market sphere. It is for this reason that film can stitch between the family drama and the terror attack that makes cinema seem real even when not. The specificity of film and its interpolation of viewers has a global commercial imperative that was scaled up from the start: ‘The film industry in India from its very inception was intimately implicated in the nationalist project’ (Gopal and Moorti 2008: 10). Songs and scenes of melodrama convey and construct a sense of anxiety for the spectator-citizen even while delivering emotive pleasures and immersion, or through immersion ‘intimately implicated’ and the circulation of this intimacy ‘was decidedly internationalist in its mode of production and distribution’ (Gopal and Moortu 2008: 11). The mesh between a hybrid cultural ‘masala’ and the increasing imbrication with global commercial flows is the suture that must be reworked, sublated, detourned if Global South Asia would not merely sell conviviality to the world, in spite of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rogue! (2001).
There are by definition no agreed, fixed or stable global co-ordinates that can simply be plotted, mapped and drawn up on a vernacular grid ready for battle. It seems just as valid to be sceptical about concepts and political prescriptions as it is to give opinions on the world historical significance of artworks or films. Is this to elevate a few texts and ignore others because my reading and research list is faulty? I cannot watch every film, though childcare and YouTube facilitate extended viewing. [remember, I am cutting these sentences from the book because I think its rubbish. note to self, do not be tempted to put this back] Ostentatious excitation of the bibliography/filmography notwithstanding, would such a completion guarantee the power of the analysis?
‘Little attempt is made to unpick the problematic manner in which diaspora itself is often deliberately constructed as more open to the potentials of “performative” identity and hybridity than anywhere “back home”‘ (Banaji 2006: 31).
Ana Mendes takes up the Merchant Ivory films in a discussion of Rushdie and the film Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India (2001 dir. Gowariker) to discuss the visual and exoticist nostalgia trope in films about the Raj, still potently representative of ideological positionings even when recognised as myth, reworked and reimagined for a diverse audience and yet still effectively romantic, hierarchical, and largely blind to economic injustice both during the Raj era and today. ‘Visual splendour’ in Merchant Ivory or in Lagaan evokes that fantasy Raj even in its ostensible critique, and Mendes contrasts the exoticism or self-exoticism of such films to the rejection of Raj revivalism that in part motivated My Beautiful Laundrette (Mendes 2007: 72).
The convergence of capital’s industrial production in cinema and new media and the docile bodies that consume and comment in the walled chat-rooms while cultural studies overestimates the resistive potential of media use and the susceptibility of the market to the enclosure of administration will perhaps not be undone. Festivals are a favourite of government officials wanting to provide economical panacea for the masses without risk of mobilisations less readily corralled – the festival as a fortress, and as commercial boosterism. The officially sponsored festival of the Global South as the last desperate attempt to distract from an empty administration of capital by hypocrites with weapons contracts. But since no amount of staged frivolity by nominated but beleaguered ‘community leaders’ can disguise from the community the violence inflicted upon that community, the life-support mechanism of civic bureaucracy flounders when people get together to talk about something other than sport. The alternative mobilisation rips these documents of barbaric proportion to shreds and scatters the enemies of the people to the four corners of the planetary Global South, zindabad!
Insisting on the more open connectivities can still, maybe, potentially, offer more than complicity with the market.
The footnotes are getting the chop chop treatment too. It is a sad sad day. A bad bad way to relegate people to the acknowledgements.
Is it just Truman World™? In his book Picturing Theory, anthropologist Jay Ruby discusses the ‘not illogical merchandising direction [of] The Truman Show [which] contains … “a catelog of products featured on the show, offered for sale and snapped up by its loyal international audiences”‘ (Ruby 2000: 250, quoting the Paramount Pictures Press kit for the film). Ruby’s point is that anthropologists cannot pretend to study people without the context of commercial capitalism ; similarly television without its connections would be television out of context. Yet, if Ruby wants to modernise anthropology, we might ask why his book is subtitled ‘explorations in film and anthropology’ (my emphasis), as if the explorer’s quest, Palin again, were something that did not need the idea of the pristine and untouched other as its slightly tarnished holy grail. I have always wondered why texts on visual anthropology, and film history in general, are fixated on the founding practitioners and nothing from ‘before’. I owe this point to Scott McQuire (1986, 2008), but also again in part to Theresa Mikuriya (2017).