What does it mean to be a rural Tibetan youth in modern India?

The picture many of us have of what it means to be part of a rural community is fast changing in India. As the picture above shows, it is no longer necessarily incongruous to be a farmer living an essentially ancient lifestyle while also using a smart phone on India's incredibly widespread 3G network.

How has this affected the community in Bylakuppe? As the existence of the Protected Area Permit attests (any person wanting to stay in Bylakuppe for more than a day trip is required to get what amounts to another visa specific to the place), the Tibetan community there is purposely protecting themselves from the negative effects of globalization. However, the Dalai Lama is nothing if not forward thinking, as much as he cherishes the rich traditions and religion of Tibet. His encouragement for all Tibetans to become fluent in English, the training of Tibetans in new technologies for text preservation, and the emphasis on updating government to a more democratic model all support this modernization.

The funny thing about kids, I think, is that, for the most part, they/we (I'm not stuck up enough to think I'm more than "one of those dumb kids!") don't care too much about preservation efforts. Depending on access of the youth to internet, I would not be surprised to find Tibetan kids with MP3 players rockin' and hip-hoppin' to everything kids in the states listen to, and thinking of Tibetan music as "stuff for old people and monks."

The thing is, though, that I am also not stuck up enough to assume that all kids all over the world have the same self-centered worldview that plagues and empowers my generation in the US. Perhaps, as is the case in Bali, there is no problem in maintaining musical heritage while still venturing into new, primarily Western territory. Or perhaps there is a stigma against Western forms of musical expression.

Though I doubt there are very many "rich kids," such as those described in this week's annotated source, I wonder to what degree the Bangalori attitude of the Third World being the "other" and the Western world being the "inside" has affected the Tibetan kids. Where do the Tibetan kids in Bylakuppe identify themselves? Do many live in a translocal paradigm that is perpetually and adamantly "the in-between," or is there a close identification with Tibetan tradition? How do kids define "Tibetan-ness?" Perhaps the question "what does it mean to you to be Tibetan" could be slipped into conversation here and there with people of all the strata found in Bylakuppe.

I love these pictures!

The World is Sound?

The World Is Sound? Geography, Musicology and British-Asian Soundscapes
Author(s): Tariq Jazeel
Source: Area, Vol. 37, No. 3 (Sep., 2005), pp. 233-241
Published by: Blackwell Publishing on behalf of The Royal Geographical Society (with the Institute of British Geographers)
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20004456 .
Accessed: 25/01/2012 19:44

Musical geography, while quickly growing as a field of study, hasn't made much foray into treating the production of and pure sonic qualities of music as they relate to place, nor have the politics of music vs. music and politics been adequately treated. This journal article by Tariq Jazeel seeks to begin to address this deficiency. The article has three main sections, and I describe the points that stuck with me from a first reading:

Reappraising the critique of exotica
     Exotica has been, by many scholars, dismissed as not truly representing any of the cultures from which it draws, and is criticized for catering to a middle-class white demographic by "sanitizing" itself. It becomes, in their eyes, artificial and superficial. Jazeel counters these arguments with the recognition that just because something is made for middle class consumption (as is the case for much British-Asian music, which fills the acoustic space of popular British dance clubs), it is not automatically shallow, and that tip-toeing, crisscrossing, and redefining cultural boundaries is something worth seriously examining. Also, British-Asian music, such as that made by Talvin Singh, deals seriously with post-colonial issues, syncretism, and racial dynamics. Artists like Singh, born and raised in Britain but steeped in their South Asian ancestry, float in limbo between being British and being Indian, their identity contested by internal conflict, by assertions of some Britons that people like Singh are "too brown to be British" and by counter assertions by some Indians that people like Singh are "too white to be Indian," using color literally and as a metaphor for cultural norms and boundaries.

Production and expression
     Musical analysis of several songs is undertaken in a qualitative way, detailing the mixing and cohesion of Western and Indian elements. It is interesting to me that not only are West and East mixed, but that Indian musics from different parts of the subcontinent are layered as well. This detail would not be noticed by most Western listeners, but to those with a knowledge of Indian classical music would be most salient.

Consumption and performativity
     The reaction of consumers to the music, particularly in a dance club setting, are explored and problematized. When dancing to a raga in a time signature unfamiliar to the club-goers, for example, the immediacy of expression through dance is challenged. At first, the dancers, used to a four-on-the-floor club rhythm, stutter and struggle to find the rhythm. The ways in which consumers and performers of British-Asian music negotiate and purposefully challenge cultural divides are instructive and tell more of the full story than even demographic survey information can.


VERY useful stuff. Thanks, Tariq.

HUM 201 Journal Entry 4

The Shift from Material Happiness to Internal Happiness

Indian Philosophy and Nicomachean Ethics

            The astonishing realization that things have not always been as they are is one of the great reasons for studying ancient humanities. While holding to my thesis that people are and have been basically the same for the duration of the history that may be called human, it is undeniable that philosophical institutions and understandings have changed dramatically over the millennia. It is taken for granted in modernity that happiness is internal. Methods for producing internal happiness differ from philosophy to philosophy, religion to religion, but I contend without hesitation that the vast majority people of the world today know, though they might not always practice accordingly, that lasting happiness is not in material things. This is due largely to the work of two of the largest influences on modern human thought: Indian philosophy and Greek philosophy.[1] Indian philosophy and Nicomachean ethics both represent the philosophical shift from materialism to what may be termed spirituality by emphasizing right understanding, right action, and right habit.

            Aristotle is meticulous at his approach to gain right understanding. As was noted by several students within my earshot, Aristotle’s method is to go around and around a thing and seek to understand it from every angle, refusing conclusion until a satisfying thoroughness is achieved. Understanding the impossibility of perfection, even using the most rigorous methods available, he is content to  “indicate the truth roughly and in outline… to look for precision in each class of things just so far as the nature of the subject admits” (Supplement 17). The right understanding of what is epistemologically possible was similarly voiced by Indian Jain philosophers in the doctrines of anekantavada, syadvada, and nayavada. Anekantavada literally means “doctrine of not one side,” meaning that there is necessarily more than one way to look at things. Nayavada considers the different points of view that observers may bring with them, including prejudices and predispositions. Syadvada makes every statement conditional by adding the Sanskrit word “syat” to any claim, transforming, for example, “this chair is big” into “this chair, in a way, is big,” or, more generally, “in a way, X is Y, and in a way, X is not Y.” With all of this considered, the honest acquisition of truth becomes an effort well defined by Aristotle when he claimed only a rough definition of the truth. Armed with the right understanding of our own limitations, we march forward in an attempt at right action.

            Permissible actions in Hinduism are of four categories: pleasure, power, duty, and release. Of these the first two are considered lower and the last two are considered higher, with the goal of release being the highest. Aristotle examines pleasure, honor, money-making, and happiness as the general categories of human endeavor, and ranks as the highest category that of happiness attained through virtue. There is great, though not total, correlation between Aristotle’s definition of happiness and Hinduism’s definition of release. Aristotle sees happiness correlating to material things as low and fleeting. Hinduism sees the material world as something that must be escaped for release to happen and nirvana to set in. Aristotle says, “We call final without qualification that which is always desirable in itself and never for the sake of something else.” In the Bhagavad Gita, one of Hinduism’s sacred scriptures, the avatar Krishna tells the great warrior Arjuna “A disciplined man abandons the fruits of his action and attains unlimited peace, but an undisciplined man becomes a slave to the rewards of his action” (Bhagavad Gita 5:12). Action done for a reward other than the action itself is doomed to disappointment, and is missing the essence of happiness. Action, therefore, may be called “right” if it is done because it is right, and not because of any outcome apart from internal happiness.

            Right habit, according to Aristotle, comes from practice in doing what is right and virtuous (22). Gandhi, arguably the most prominent Indian of recent times, agreed wholeheartedly. In battling the caste system prominent in India, he affirmed that if one acts as a holy man, then one is a holy man, and if one acts as a slave, then one is a slave, regardless of birth or station. There is evidence that ancient Indian philosophy was similar to Gandhi’s views (cf. Bhaskarananda, The Essentials of Hinduism 23). There is nothing in man’s nature but potential, and this potential may be nourished through action and preserved when actions become habits. In correlation with Aristotle’s doctrine of the mean, we have “sarvam atyanta garhitam,” meaning “too much of anything is bad” (Bhaskarananda 187). Hinduism respects and venerates the great discipline and moral rectitude of the ascetic holy persons, but self-mortification was never the purpose and is not permissible for even the holy persons, for a life may not be taken before its time. In virtue, morality, as well as in practical living, a doctrine of the mean and right habit is affirmed in both traditions.

            In showing the great similarities within the philosophical traditions of Aristotle and the Indian ancients, I have sought to focus only on points of agreement. There are obviously great differences in matters of theology, theodicy, the organization of society, art critique, etc. My goal in this examination has been simply to trace some of our taken-for-granted philosophical stances to two of their possible roots. Of course, we in the American West owe most of our cultural philosophy to Aristotle and other occidental thinkers. However, as the worlds of East and West become ever more integrated, it is valuable to find common ground on which to build, common sensibilities that may be activated, and common subjects on which to have intercourse.

---

[1] Though no figures are cited to support this claim, it is easily defendable. From India came Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and others, which spread into greater Asia. Greece imparted traditional occidental philosophy and paved the way for Christianity and Islam to take root, which spread into Europe, the Americas, and Africa. Much culture mixing added into this, coming from China, greater Arabia, Africa, etc., but identifiable and undeniable roots are in India and Greece. Most of the human family falls under the umbrella of one or both of these schools.

HUM 201 Journal Entry 5

Elysian Fields in the Occident and the Orient:

The Middle Heaven in the Aeneid and Indian Religious Traditions

            What is the state of the soul between this life and the final resting place? Most religious traditions do not simply make a theological jump from earthly death to final heavens or hells, and many use the concept of a “middle heaven” to describe the occupation of a soul in limbo. Though I will not here focus on the Latter-day Saint view, most of what I describe should ring with a measure of truth – the spirit world, where the righteous in paradise and the wicked and untaught in hell retain their personalities and inclinations, where the wicked mourn, the untaught are educated, and the righteous take their rest in doing the Lord’s work, is a reality for us. The human soul reasons and is taught by divine inspiration that there is a place or a state betwixt the cosmic here and there. The Elysian Fields described in Vergil’s Aeneid provide the Roman conception of a middle heaven, and may be instructively compared and contrasted with similar ideas in the various Indian religious traditions.

            The impetus for this journal entry is my surprise at finding of a type of selective reincarnation in the Aeneid, and a brief treatment of this doctrine will serve as a springboard to understanding overarching similarities and differences in the traditions. “When they have turned Time’s wheel a thousand years, the god calls in a crowd to Lethe stream, that there unmemoried they may see again the heavens and wish re-entry into bodies.” (1009) This is the culmination of Anchises’ answer to Aeneas’ startled question regarding those about to be reincarnated. Aeneas held, in a similar fashion to most Indian religions, a negative view regarding the “bodies’ dead weight” (1008), and saw the disembodied soul as something light, free, and closer to pure. In Indian tradition, impurities keep one on the rounds of rebirth, or samsara, and rebirth is something to be escaped. In the Aeneid, reincarnation is part of the god’s plans, and only some are subjected to it. Anchises’ descendents are to be reborn for specific purposes in the building up of the Roman Empire. The Indians generally treat reincarnation as universal, not restricted to humans, and only chosen purposefully by a very few (the Buddhist Bodhisattva, for example, chooses to be reborn in order to assist the rest of the human family in gaining enlightenment. The Dalai Lama is one such being.). And here we have our similarities and differences: both the Aeneid and Eastern tradition view the spiritual state, bereft of body, as a state of higher bliss, but reincarnation is selective, rather than universal, in the Aeneid. Now that we have examined those who are on their way out of a middle heaven, let us look at those who are going to be staying there a while.

            Within samsara, the cosmological hierarchy goes something like this, from the bottom up: hell beings, vegetation, animals, humans, and gods. Acts that accrue karma send a person down the ladder, and meritorious acts shoot a person up the ladder.[1] The gods occupy a heaven strikingly similar to Vergil’s verdant fields. Elysium is described as “places of delight… green park land, where souls take ease amid the Blessed Groves” (1006) and also as the place “where a few abide in happy lands, till the long day, the round of Time fulfilled, has worn our stains away” (1009). The Indian middle heaven is a resting place for those with an excess of merit, and may be generally described using the same words Vergil used for Elysium. In most Indian traditions, though, it is not only stains that are here washed away, but merit as well– any mark upon one’s being is damning in most Indic thought, regardless if it is a positive or negative mark, and the goal of religion is to remove from one’s self any marks so as to be able to return to the original, primordial state of perfection. The gods in middle heaven are biding their time until merit is worn away. In the Aeneid, this cleansing period is followed by entry into the realm of the gods and eternal bliss. In Indian tradition, there is generally one more rebirth as a human and then entry into what may be collectively described as the “heavens.”[2] Again, the similarities are striking.

            With what do those in the middle heaven occupy themselves? “All joy they took, alive, in cars and weapons, as in the care and pasturing of horses, remained with them when they were laid in earth” (1006). As in Indian and LDS thought, the dead carry with them their personalities and passions. The middle heaven for Indians may involve much of what Vergil here describes – with no fatigue, hunger, or pain, the gods fill their time with largely idle and enjoyable pursuits. These gods cannot help others to get off the rounds of rebirth, for they themselves are trapped in samsara.[3] They may have some sway in earthly matters, such as weather, crop production, military endeavors, and so forth, but in Indian thinking such things are paltry when compared to a soul’s liberation. In the Hindu caste system, those at the top are not the richest or most powerful (Kshatriya, warrior and noble, or Vaisya, merchant castes) but those entitled to a greater portion of spirituality (the Brahmin caste). Therefore these gods have a level of comfort that is to be envied, but, as in Vergil, their true plight (separation from the final heaven) is largely unchanged. I have heard Indian middle heaven described as that proverbial “rest home for the righteous,” and that seems to be a good description of Elysium. The main difference here is that the residents of Elysium are not recognized as gods, nor do they have godlike powers and temporal influence, with the exception being freedom from pain, hunger, etc. In the ancient world, where a much higher proportion of humanity died from disease and starvation than it does now, it seems to me that this freedom may very well be characterized as a desirable form of godhood.

            The more I read Western and Eastern thought concurrently, the more I am convinced of several things. The problems common to humankind really are common, and they stir up in us ideas and solutions that may seem very different superficially, but deeper inspection yields a rather united core. Also, I believe that God continues to inspire His kids and give them, here a little and there a little, glimmers of truth. It is also possible that similar truths are found across the human family because the human family has a common root. From examining Western and Eastern thought and comparing it with my own Latter-day Saint background and beliefs, I find much common ground on which to build, as well as interesting differences that enliven the mind and enrich the bright tapestry of human experience.

---

[1] As a note to avoid confusion, in Hinduism and several forms of Buddhism there are Gods and then there are gods. “Big G” Gods are not and never were on the wheel of samsara, but will often choose to manifest themselves as avatars or incarnations in order to help the human race. The Hindu Trimurti (Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma) and the five Cosmic Buddhas are examples. “Little g” gods are stuck on the rounds of rebirth just like humans, and it is these gods who occupy a middle heaven in Indic thought.

[2] What “heaven” means differs depending on the specific religion, and Buddhism in particular shies away from too-specific description of heaven, bringing to mind Confucius’ pragmatic sentiment – how can we worry about heaven when we can’t even get earth right! Various traditions hold to nirvana, or an extinguishment of desire and unification with the infinite, as heaven, whereas others hold a view similar to the Christian heaven of personal conference with deity and bliss in deity’s presence.

[3] In one version of the Buddha’s enlightenment, gods appear to Siddhartha disguised as a sick man, and old man, a dead man, and an ascetic holy man, in order to awaken in him a desire for the transcendent. Their reason for doing this is simple – they know the Buddha will discover the way to leave samsara, and they desire this knowledge for themselves so they might attain nirvana.