A Trio of Outsourcing Articles

1. In the Washington Post, a look at a northern Virginia company called Approva, which has a sizeable BPO operation in Pune. The tone is almost routine: there is little of the defensiveness about American jobs going overseas that we saw in the Outsourcing Hysteria era of 2003-2004. Here, one of the Pune employees of the company goes so far as to suggest that the company's use of BPO streamlines their costs, and has possibly created 100 jobs in the U.S.

But perhaps the most interesting part of the article actually pertains to office decor:

Tech firms here have created office parks that would not look out of place in Tysons Corner or Reston, but even in office decor, they strive to bridge the gap between the two cultures. Gupta recalls how the original color scheme for IMC's new offices in Pune was so loud -- even more than so than in the Silicon Valley dot-com boom of the late 1990s -- that he intervened to tone it down. "In the U.S., most of our offices are conservative: white walls, blue carpets," he said. "In India, offices have oranges and pinks and yellows. I was trying to balance the two cultures." Even with Gupta's modifications, IMC still bursts into bright blues and yellows and oranges, from ceiling to floor.

Sounds nice, actually.

2. Another article, in the New York Times, argues that India may not be able to keep up with the spiraling demand for engineers who are "polished" enough to work in BPO:

India’s $23.4 billion outsourcing industry accounts for most of the country’s software and services industry, which makes up nearly 5 percent of gross domestic product. The industry employs 1.2 million workers, has sparked a consumer revolution in India, and is accelerating at more than 30 percent a year.

On the sidelines of the Nasscom meeting, B. Ramalinga Raju, chairman of India’s fourth- largest outsourcing company, Satyam Computer Services, said that India produced three million college graduates every year, including nearly 400,000 engineers. "But most of these are uncut diamonds that have to go through polishing factories, as the trade requires only polished stones," Mr. Raju said.

Though the piece is rich with numbers and statistics, one thing it doesn't consider is what would happen if the growth in outsourcing were to level off. You might have a lot of unhappy Engineers!

3. There was also a second article on outsourcing in the Times yesterday, this one focusing on a recent study indicating that the skill-level of outsourcing work in India and China is rising rapidly. There isn't that much to this piece; most of it is examples from major American companies like Dow Chemicals and IBM on their plans to set up advanced Research and Development units in India and China. Universities in those countries are moving forward rapidly in terms of science and engineering research, and are proving formidable competitors to U.S. research universities.

My favorite quote from this article is a rather ambitious statement from Berkeley's Dean of Engineering:

Some university administrators see the same trend [i.e., the rise of Asian universities]. "This is part of an incredible tectonic shift that is occurring," said A. Richard Newton, dean of the college of engineering at the University of California, Berkeley, "and we've got to think about this more profoundly than we have in the past. Berkeley and other leading American universities, he said, are now competing in a global market for talent. His strategy is to become an aggressive acquirer. He is trying to get Tsinghua University in Beijing and some leading technical universities in India to set up satellite schools linked to Berkeley. The university has 90 acres in Richmond, Calif., that he thinks would be an ideal site.

"I want to get them here, make Berkeley the intellectual hub of the planet, and they won't leave," said Mr. Newton, who emigrated from Australia 25 years ago.

Now that's optimism!

Cartoons again: Another Perspective

Manorama Sarasvati has a thoughtful/scholarly response to the cartoons controversy, expressing some sympathy for the Muslim protestors (though obviously not for their violence). Her most provocative point might be this one:

When the larger narrative is articulated, as I have tried to do above, the particular argument that Muslims are overreacting to "just a few cartoons" becomes much more complex because of the context in which it circulates. In fact, the outrage of Muslims does not stem from a response to just a few cartoons, but rather to an entire visual economy which dehumanizes Muslims, and specifically, Muslim bodies, as a means of expressing and visually reinforcing western dominance. We need only to think back to the torture photos for another example in which the argument that the photos were the result of "a few bad apples" seems strangely familiar. It's only a few cases, we were reassured. Muslims have no need to get upset. And after all, there is a cost to freedom. The visual representation of what that cost is, and what it is has historically been, was hardly interrogated. It fit quite well into a narrative that relies on such logic for its continuation.

Though I agree with this particular point, I actually differ with Mano on the broader question of how to read the ongoing protests riots, for reasons indicated in my comments on her blog.

Three Things: California Textbooks, Marriage Law in India, Google China

--There was a story on NPR's All Things Considered yesterday regarding the California school textbook controversy. (See my earlier post here) Seems like a pretty balanced story -- the emphasis is on the growing demands of various immigrant groups to have their views represented, rather than religious extremism. I can't quite figure out why this story ran yesterday in particular, though.

--I was puzzled by the news that the Indian Supreme Court recently ruled that all Indian marriages must be legally registered, in the interest of protecting the rights of women. I support the decision -- but I actually thought this was already the law!

--It's interesting that the Chinese government is defending its censorship of Google China by invoking the U.S.A. Patriot Act, which allows the American government to monitor all electronic communnication conducted in the U.S. In effect, they are saying, "well, the American government spies on its citizens, so we can too." I don't think it's really valid; how can simple monitoring of communications pertaining to possible terrorism compare to outright banning of links to "democracy," "Tibet," and so on?

Everyone is beating up on Google, and they may be right. But it's too bad that the left isn't really taking the Chinese government's point as an opportunity to review the slide in American civil liberties represented by the Patriot Act. The latter was effectively re-authorized by the U.S. Senate last week, with only minor changes regarding libraries and the infamous "National Security Letters." Even with the changes, the government has entirely too much authority to use its powers to conduct information fishing expeditions: investigation without cause for suspicion.

Valentine's Day Music: 2 Top 9 Lists

My list:

1. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, Cheek to Cheek (Cole Porter)
2. Hemant Kumar, Na Tum Hamen Jano (from Baat Ek Raat Ki)
3. John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, My One and Only Love
4. The entire early ouevre of the sublime Al Green
5. Velvet Underground & Nico, I'll Be Your Mirror
6. Amadou & Mariam, Mon Amour, Ma Cherie
7. Everything But the Girl, Before Today (Walking Wounded)
8. Bob Dylan, Tangled Up in Blue
9. Magnetic Fields, The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side (69 Love Songs)

S.'s list:

1. Lata Mangeshkar, Kabhie Kabhie (from Silsila)
2. Diana Krall, Peel Me a Grape
3. Kumar Sanu and Kavita Krishnamurthy, Rim Jhim Rim Jhim (from 1942: A Love Story)
4. Mohammed Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar, Tere Bindiya (from Abhimaan)
5. Aamir Khan and Alka Yagnik, Aati Kya Khandala (from Ghulam)
6. Sonu Nigam, Saathiya (from Saathiya)
7. Lata Mangeshkar, Pyaar Kiya to Darna Kya (from Mughal-e-Azam)
8. Lata Mangeshkar, Abke sajan saavan mein (from Chupke Chupke)
9. Do You Love Me (from Fiddler on the Roof)

Feel free to share your obscure (or familiar) favorites below...

Links: Idolatry, Mrs. King, Brugada Syndrome, DesiBlogging

--Read Tim Burke's thoughtful take on the ongoing anti-Islamic cartoons controversy. In some instances, Burke echoes Juan Cole, and sympathizes with the sense of grievance that many Muslims worldwide feel. But he also has this clear-sighted rejoinder to the apparent theological confusion of the protestors:

Certainly the given religious logic of the attitude toward iconic representations of the Prophet within many Islamic traditions is almost actively contradicted by the riots and protests directed at the cartoons. What is that reaction but idolatry, the mistaking of the human, the temporal, for the divine, the elevation of Muhammed and representations of him to the level of God? Isn’t that one of the clearest and most unambiguous instructions within the Qu’ran and later interpretative traditions, to not mistake the Prophet for God Himself?

That is an argument which will convince no one, because none of this is really about the substance of a belief about iconic representation and idolatry.


--Read Mendi Obadike's somewhat ambivalent response to the death of Coretta Scott King last week.

I'd heard her say that she married a vision, not a man, but before King's death, I'd always imagined that the idea was simply that she knew she was marrying an activist. What I've been sitting with this week is the challenge of recognizing what activism looks like when one is speaking / acting from the position of black lady (or perhaps colored lady). I've been thinking about this question in the context of my own creative work, but it is hitting me differently when I rethink King's life in the context of her own intentions, rather than in the context of her husband's work. Even the writing of this post requires me to think about the politics of engaging with the lady as a political figure. Do I call her Mrs. in the title of this post?


--Read Brendan Greeley on his experience with a rare heart anomaly known as Brugada Syndrome, in the New York Times Magazine:

From my two hours on the operating table I remember nothing, punctuated by a shock of pain so wrenching and intense that it fails comparison with anything else I have ever experienced, then nothing, then another shock comparable only to the first, then nothing. I can confirm that defibrillation does in fact contract all of the muscles in your body so that you lift off the table. In my case, my lungs constricted and I woke up screaming involuntarily. One of my cardiologists told me later that by the third time my heart stopped, they had adjusted the defibrillator and I remained sedated. I think I thanked him.

(Yikes!)

--Rage, of the blog Brown Out, has an edifying polemic (or maybe an intelligent rant) where he points out the dangers of taking desi blogging too seriously:

However, if someone were to begin reading a blog as a primary source for their understanding of a community and/or issues that pertain to it, they could be led astray, especially by folks who are on a soapbox about their perspective, or their authenticity, but don't have much more to back it up than a lot of hours in front of a computer screen and, more often than not, minimal interactions with the subjects of their posts. I know that I've been guilty of the same in the past, and have tried to remedy what I could when I was reminded of the flaws. But others don't do that, and their pieces remain up, virtually unchallenged (especially if it's about community organizations or initiatives, when the principals of those entities seldom have the time to respond to misrepresentation (or no representation) in the media, let alone the blogosphere). Then, the next time that someone searches about agency X or person Y, what they get is a source that is often an under- or even un-researched polemic that hasn't even been seen, let alone replied to, by the person/group in question.

Rage points to a possible problem associated with quickie blogging. But it's also to a great extent a problem associated with search engines, which tend to rate blogs quite highly when they are widely linked to and current. I don't know what specifically Rage is thinking of here -- his argument could be stronger if he gave some specific examples -- but he certainly provides some food for blog-thought.

--Oh, and check out Jabberwock's review of Upamanyu Chatterjee's new novel Weight Loss (which looks very twisted and creepy), as well as Pankaj Mishra's positive review of Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss, in the New York Times. By all accounts, Kiran Desai has nailed it with this one.

Breaking the Frame: The Fall of Icarus and the Torturer's Horse

I was discussing W.H. Auden's poem "Musée des Beaux Arts" with a student during office hours recently, specifically the question of how to spot irony (the student had missed it). Looking up the poem on the internet, one comes across, first of all, the painting by Bruegel called Landscape and The Fall of Icarus, which inspired Auden. One also encounters Alexander Nemerov's helpful essay in the current issue of Critical Inquiry, which relates the poem to Auden's experiences of the war in China in 1938, and situates the painting in the actual Musée des Beaux-Arts in Brussels.

You can see a large format version of Bruegel's 1558 painting here. And there is a brief bio of Pieter Bruegel the Elder here; it places Bruegel in the context of 16th century Flemish narrative painting, marks his Italian training, and indicates the influence of Hieronymus Bosch.

Make sure you spot the following element of the painting. It's easy to miss:

Those are Icarus's legs.

What should be a story of the spectacular failure of human ambition is represented by Bruegel in a dim corner of the canvas, dwarfed by the scale of a massive landscape, and overlooked by nearly all of the human characters in the painting.

Compare the painting to Auden's poem of 1938:

Musée des Beaux Arts
by W.H. Auden

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;

How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.


(Incidentally, to answer the question of how you can prove the presence of irony to readers unaccustomed to poetry, there isn't any easy formula. The most solid -- or most teachable -- approach I can think of hinges on the dissonance between words indicating tone: "leisurely" does not go with "disaster," and "amazing" does not go with "calmly." It's in the gap between words describing a single event that you'll find Auden's irony.)

What's interesting about this poem more generally is the way Auden breaks the narrative frame, implicating the viewer of the painting as well as the reader of the poem in the ethical crisis occurring at the margin. While in the first and third stanzas Auden offers a reflection on the painting itself, in the second stanza he seems to wander off topic somewhat. The Crucifixion was a common enough theme for the "Old Masters" such as one would see in this museum in Brussels. But children skating on a pond? And most importantly, where does he get the "untidy spot/ Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse/ Scratches its innocent behind on a tree"?

These mundane and perhaps contemporary elements from outside the painting extend the theme of social indifference to include the reader in the present day. It's we who, in the face of war and injustice, continue steadfastly on our course as if nothing dramatic is happening, just as the "expensive delicate ship . . . sailed calmly on" in Auden's poem.

Of course, it's quite fair to suggest that Bruegel himself accomplished much the same breaking of the narrative frame in his 1558 painting, though in Bruegel's case at least the marginalization of Icarus is part of a deliberate joke on the viewer. (Where Bruegel makes disaster marginal, Auden reminds us to keep our eyes focused on the margins. And perhaps the idea of an ethics of social concern that is so important to Auden was not in Bruegel's mind, Icarus being a mythical figure.)

In his essay on the painting and Auden's poem at Critical Inquiry, I think Nemerov errs slightly when he argues that Bruegel's gesture is somehow contemporary:

But if we focus still more on the figure of Icarus, we can begin to see that the painting becomes, thanks to Auden's poem, not just an allegory of 1938 but something somehow made in 1938, as though it were a surrealist work of the poet's own era.

I don't think such strong phrasing is necessary. And I'm also not sure that Nemerov's invocation of Borges's "Pierre Menard" is warranted, though the poem and painting may well be a Mise-en-abyme -- for which a reference to Borges may always be warranted.

Finally, if one were to teach the poem and painting today, one would be sorely tempted to talk about contemporary situations where it seems society continues to fail to address its ethical blindspots. (Auden's disquieting reference to "the torturer's horse" might provide a convenient segué to a comment about Bush administration.) Some might complain about yet another instance of the politicization of literary studies, but in this case the poem itself seems to require it; politicization is embedded into the structure of the poet's own act of reading.

An early Oriya Novel, Translated

A former professor of mine from Cornell, Satya P. Mohanty, has a piece in the Hindu. It's a detailed description of an Oriya novel he helped translate, Six Acres and a Third, by Fakir Mohan Senapati.

It's an early Indian novel with an agricultural theme, so it's surprising that Mohanty reads it as self-reflexive and self-parodic:

Both the kind of naturalist realism that builds on the accumulation of details and the analytical realism I mentioned, which explains and delves into underlying causes, are achieved in Senapati's novel through a self-reflexive and even self-parodic narrative mode, one that reminds us more of the literary postmodernism of a Salman Rushdie than the naturalistic mode of a Mulk Raj Anand.

(Incidentally, thanks to Manan Ahmed for the tip.)

Digital Library of India

Has anyone explored the Digital Library of India? I just discovered it tonight while browsing the "India" tags on del.icio.us.

They seem to have digitized quite a number of texts already, though I can't find an exact number on the site. The mission statement is ambitious -- bordering on over-the-top -- though the fact that Etexts at the DLI don't have unique URLs is deeply frustrating. Also (while I'm carping), the site's interface leaves much to be desired. Oh yeah, and the copyright policy is questionable: they will be scanning things printed up to 1990, and only remove them if a publisher or author pays a $200 fee.

But there are plenty of books there, and the fact that the project is state-funded might bode well for its future. In terms of books I've been discussing recently, I found Mother India as well as half a dozen Indian responses to it online -- including the response written by Dhan Gopal Mukherji, which Rani had mentioned (a nice find, as this is a book that might be rather difficult to track down in the U.S.). There is also a good selection of books by earlier Indian authors like Mulk Raj Anand, Rabindranath Tagore, Sarojini Naidu, Toru Dutt, Bankimchandra Chatterjee, and so on, as well as a pretty comprehensive array of writings by political figures. And I was pleasantly surprised to find Edward Thompson's biography of Tagore (another book that isn't so easy to find in the U.S.).

As importantly, they seem to have a strong interest in scanning and posting texts written in Indian languages -- though the dominant language on the site at present seems to be Telegu Telugu (for example, you can read Gora in Telugu, but not in Bangla!). I did notice a Hindi translation of Anand's Coolie, so maybe it's not true across the board. And there are poems of Ghalib's in Urdu... and quite a bit of Persian... Not a whole lot of consistency here.

I'm seriously considering writing them a letter explaining that they should rethink the architecture of the site to make it more usable -- starting with abolishing frames and instituting unique/linkable URLs. (Oh, and they should get rid of this archaic reliance on TIF graphics... use Unicode... or whatever imaging plugin Google Print is using...) If they do all those things, they are well on their way to building a world-class resource.

Incidentally, if anyone finds anything that seems particularly good while browsing the DLI site, I would love to hear about it in the comments below (or on your own blog, if you prefer).

UPDATE: A mirror of the Indian site can be found at Carnegie Mellon University. From my current location, it runs faster (and better) but has a smaller selection than the DLI in Hyderabad.

Links: Urdu Poetry, Blame it on Verdi, and the Desi Frankenstein

Was Boris Karloff, the original cinematic Frankenstein monster, partly Desi? It seems pretty likely he was; Accidental Blogger investigates.

* * *

Amit Verma reaches Peshawar, where he finally feels like he's in a foreign country.

* * *

Western biologists visit a remote region in the Papua province of Indonesia, called the Foja Mountains. Apparently this area has had little or no human presence, though the Post doesn't explain how or why it's remained so pristine. The intrepid biologists hit a mother-lode of previously unknown flora and fauna. (I love reading about scientists having adventures... incidentally, check out the pictures from the expedition at the Post).

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There's a nice HTML edition of a Gutenberg Etext of Hindustani Lyrics, translated by Inayat Khan and Jessie Westbrook (1919). Snatches of verse from Amir, Ghalib, Hali, and many others. The translations aren't especially "useful" without the facing page of the original Urdu, but fans of Urdu Poetry might find this interesting nonetheless. Here's a snippet from Ghalib:

The high ambition of the drop of rain
Is to be merged in the unfettered sea;
My sorrow when it passed all bounds of pain,
Changing, became itself the remedy.

* * *

With an intractable Maoist insurgency problem, Nepal's King Gyanendra is foundering. The Washington Post implies he is in danger of being overthrown by a military coup.

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The Indian Express reports that the government of Delhi is planning to "regularize" illegal construction in residential areas. I don't really know what to make of it. On the one hand, it seems ethical to grant people official rights over land they already effectively own, especially if the government doesn't have the power or the interest to kick them off. But of course this move might well encourage more illegal development, adding to the housing/development chaos. And things simply can't go on the way they are, with millions of people in legal limbo. (But I'll leave it to people who know the housing situation in Delhi better than I to judge this decision...)

* * *

The Literary Saloon finds a damning instance of gender segregation in the assignment of reviews at the New York Times Book Review. Woman-oriented books get women reviewers, while books oriented to politics and war get male reviewers.

* * *

The Literary Saloon also mentions an upcoming African-Asian literary festival to be held in Delhi starting February 14.

* * *

And there's a story in the New York Times by a London local who was impressed by Woody Allen's choice of locales in Match Point.

We saw the film recently in Doylestown, and generally liked the dialogue and the style of the film through the first half. I obviously don't know London as well as a local, but I was challenged by Woody Allen's cultural references, specifically in this case the opera. His use of Italian opera in this case actually directly correlates with where he takes the film's plot (notice the uncanny parallels between the plot of La Traviata and that of Allen's film). Woody Allen's misogynistic streak is also present in much Opera, which gives the film a rather novel exculpatory claim: it can be cruel to its heroine because Verdi was, and how can we fault Verdi? Blame it on Verdi!

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Speaking of London, also check out Amitava Kumar, on Sukhdev Sandhu's ethos of the London street.

Teaching Journal: Katherine Mayo's Mother India (1927)

Mohandas Gandhi had a harsh rejoinder to Katherine Mayo's notorious Mother India, a book that had a huge impact on American and British views of India in the late 1920s:

Gandhi: This book is cleverly and powerfully written. The carefully chosen quotations give it the false appearance of a truthful book. But the impression it leaves on my mind, is that it is the report of a drain inspector sent out with the one purpose of opening and examining the drains of the country to be reported upon, or to give a graphic description of the stench exuded by the opened drains. If Miss. Mayo had confessed that she had come to India merely to open out and examine the drains of India, there would perhaps be little to complain about her compilation. But she declared her abominable and patently wrong conclusion with a certain amount of triumph: 'the drains are India'

For years I essentially bought Gandhi's take on the book, and didn't bother to read the infamous 'drain inspector's report'. It isn't hard to imagine what a polemical critique of the Indian practice of child marriage (which remained on the books until after independence), the mistreatment of widows, and hygiene might look like -- why bother?

But I've been surprised by the book itself, problematic as it undoubtedly is. And the story behind is more interesting than Gandhi probably knew. I taught part of it this week in my 'travel writers' course, and below is some of what I learned about Katherine Mayo in the process. Most of the background information below comes from Mrinalini Sinha, who edited a volume of Selections from Mother India (Michigan, 2000). Sinha's long preface, from which I derive most of the following information, is one I would recommend for anyone interested in the often vexed relationship between Western feminism and anti-colonial nationalism.

Mayo was originally from Ridgeway, Pennsylvania, and had earlier written several books celebrating, of all things, the state's rural police force. Her politics were conservative in the American sense of the time: she was hostile to immigrants, blacks, and Catholics. Even that first book was criticized for portraying an oversimplified view of the Pennsylvania police force, though it obviously also opened doors for her socially and politically. Importantly, Mayo was a supporter of the Asian Exclusion Acts, which were passed beginning in the late 19th century. These were American laws sharply restricting immigration from Asia and Africa. The laws were essentially racist in nature: the government wanted to encourage white European immigrants, and discourage darker-skinned people. Some Asians who had been born in the U.S. had their citizenship stripped from them at this time.

* * * * *
Katherine Mayo commits one act of outright deception in the opening pages of the book. In the foreword, she states that she is traveling through India and recording her observations without any assistance from any government agency:

For this reason the manuscript of this book has not been submitted to any member of the Government of India, nor to any Briton or Indian connected with official life. It has, however, been reviewed by certain public health officials of international eminence who are familiar with the Indian field.


And she says it again at the beginning of Chapter 1:

It was dissatisfaction with this status that sent me to India, to see what a volunteer unsubsidized, uncommitted, and unattached, could observe of common things in human life.


But the claim to autonomy wasn't true; according to Mrinalini Sinha, Mayo had been in direct contact with the British administration -- in fact, with Central Intelligence Division in India (the officer she was in contact with is named in her letters – J. H. Adams). They had encouraged her to write a book critical of Indian habits and traditional Indian practices, partly as a rejoinder to Gandhi, who was making major strides in building a mass movement to end British rule. The Central Intelligence Division set up meetings with important people for her, and basically paved the way for her to do the exact research that would best support their claim that their rule over India was a benefit to the Indians themselves.

Because of the British role, we can say that Mother India is, quite literally, a work of Imperial propaganda. In light of the effect it had on readers in England, the U.S., and India itself, it was remarkably successful, though it was roundly criticized by the Indians themselves, who would, as everyone knows, continue to agitate for independence through the 1920s and 30s.

While it is essential to always keep in mind that Mayo wrote this book to support the British colonial authority, one needs to keep in mind that nothing about her official contacts was known at the time. The outrage Mother India provoked amongst Indians, and even among some British and American readers, was all based on the assumption that her assessment was sincere -- if slanted.

* * * * *
What I've been surprised by on reading the actual text of Mayo's book is how many of her statistics on things like child marriage, infant mortality, and venereal disease come directly out of official documents and census reports. And her quotes about the public child marriage debate in 1925 (which involved many Indian politicians) are all a matter of public record: many prominent Hindus did support child marriage. She quotes people like Amar Nath Dutt, who is on record in the Legislative Assembly Debates of 1925 as saying the following:

We have no right to thrust our advanced views upon our less advanced countrymen. Our villages are torn with factions. If the age of consent is raised to 13, rightly or wrongly we will find that there will be inquisitions by the police at the instance of membersof an opposite faction in the village and people will be put to disgrace and trouble . . . I would ask [Government] . . . to withdraw the Bill at once. Coming as I do, Sir, from Bengal, I know what is the opinion of the majority of the people there.

And Mayo has several others making statements along these lines (which bear somewhat of a resemblance to more recent debates over things like the Uniform Civil Code, I would argue).

Of course, quite a number of political reformers and Indian nationalists strongly opposed child marriage, even suggesting earlier reform bills that the British themselves had voted down. As Sinha points out, Mayo doesn't refer to them much if at all. She does, however, mention Gandhi's many condemnations of various kinds of social backwardness, on not just child marriage but also the treatment of widows as well as untouchability. She loves Gandhi, who (unwittingly, of course) gives her ample material by which to tear apart the flaws in Indian society.

Alongside the true observations, there of course are many statements Mayo makes in the book that are either gross exaggerations or outright falsehoods. She piles it on so thick that she almost undoes her own argument about the evils of "Hindu tradition." If morals are in fact so debased, if hygiene is so bad, if girls are so mistreated -- how is it that the Indian population continued to grow at a healthy rate?

On the one hand, Mayo's book can hardly be seen as credible, both because of her involvement with British authorities and because of her errors and exaggerations on points of substance. On the other hand, many of her points are valid, which puts Indian nationalists and Euro-American liberals in an awkward position. We see versions of this still today, in the ongoing debates about "global patriarchy," especially in the recent push by Western feminists against the repression of Muslim women by Muslim men.

(Mayo's book is exactly the kind of thing Spivak is talking about in her various critical engagements with Western feminism, in essays like "Three Women's Texts and a Critique of Imperialism." It's odd that, as far as I know, Spivak never mentions Mayo, emphasizing instead writers who had connections to Empire that were in fact quite arguable -- like Mary Shelley and Charlotte Bronte).

More than fifty books and pamphlets were published in response to Mayo's book. It also led to a Broadway play and almost made it to the movies. Here are some of the titles Sinha lists:

Father India (1927); Sister India (1928); My Mother India (1930); A Son of Mother India Answers (1928); Long Live India: What a Son Has to Say About Mother and Father India (1932); An Englishman Defends Mother India (1932); The Truth About Mother India (1928); Unhappy India (1928); Mother India By Those Who Know Her Better than Miss. K. Mayo (1927); Miss Mayo’s Cruelty to Mother India (no date); Mother India Ka Jawab (The Reply to Mother India) (1928). (The list goes on.)

One of the most important replies to Mother India was by Muthulakshmi Reddi, the first Indian woman legislator. Her reply was, Sinha suggests, probably not published, though it was delivered as a speech in Madras, organized by the Women's Indian Association. Reddi responds to a number of Mayo's arguments, but let's just focus specifically on the question of child marriage:

Reddi: Reformers of to-day do not deny there is the system of early marriage prevalent among the high cast Hindus with all its attendant evils, but Miss Mayo--to be true to facts--instead of condemning the whole nation might have added that it exists only among a certain section of Hindus and a large section of the Non-Brahmins and untouchables are not affected by it. Again for the evils of early marriage she goes for a list which was drawn up some 33 years back by the women surgeons of this country when a bill for raising the age of consent was brought by one of our Hindu brethren in the Assembly. Again in 1925 when the question for further raising the age of consent came before the Assembly there were speakers both for and against such a measure--those for said there was no text in Hindu religion to sanction early marriage and those against affirmed that religion was in danger. Even at that period, the countless women's associations through India held meetings and asked for reform.

Reddi has to concede that Mayo's arguments are based on reality, but only a partial reality. On the specific question of which castes practiced, I'm not actually sure whether Reddi claims that it was limited to Brahmins or Mayo's claims that it was universal is correct. But Reddi makes a good point that Mayo overlooks the broad opposition to child marriage that was felt by Indian reformers.


Craigslist, part trois

It appears my brief radio cameo last week will be spawning a whole hour of radio in the weeks to come.

I don't think I'll be involved; I've offered my soundbite on this topic. But it will be interesting to listen in nonetheless!

Betty Friedan -- a quote, and a brief meditation on her writing style

Betty Friedan died over the weekend, at 85. She was a pioneer of the women's movement, starting with The Feminine Mystique (1963), the National Organization for Women (which she founded), and her ongoing activism on associated causes through the 1970s and 80s. There's a decent profile of Betty Friedan at the Washington Post.

Also, I came across chapter 1 of The Feminine Mystique online at H-Net, in case anyone wants a little review. (India plays an interesting cameo role.)

From that first chapter, I'd like to share four paragraphs that really stand out to me. It's where she introduces the "problem that has no name," namely the malaise of the middle-class suburban housewife:

For over fifteen years women in America found it harder to talk about the problem than about sex. Even the psychoanalysts had no name for it. When a woman went to a psychiatrist for help, as many women did, she would say, "I'm so ashamed," or "I must be hopelessly neurotic." "I don't know what's wrong with women today," a suburban psychiatrist said uneasily. "I only know something is wrong because most of my patients happen to be women. And their problem isn't sexual." Most women with this problem did not go to see a psychoanalyst, however. "There's nothing wrong really," they kept telling themselves, "There isn't any problem."

But on an April morning in 1959, I heard a mother of four, having coffee with four other mothers in a suburban development fifteen miles from New York, say in a tone of quiet desperation, "the problem." And the others knew, without words, that she was not talking about a problem with her husband, or her children, or her home. Suddenly they realized they all shared the same problem, the problem that has no name. They began, hesitantly, to talk about it. Later, after they had picked up their children at nursery school and taken them home to nap, two of the women cried, in sheer relief, just to know they were not alone.

Gradually I came to realize that the problem that has no name was shared by countless women in America. As a magazine writer I often interviewed women about problems with their children, or their marriages, or their houses, or their communities. But after a while I began to recognize the telltale signs of this other problem. I saw the same signs in suburban ranch houses and split-levels on Long Island and in New Jersey and Westchester County; in colonial houses in a small Massachusetts town; on patios in Memphis; in suburban and city apartments; in living rooms in the Midwest. Sometimes I sensed the problem, not as a reporter, but as a suburban housewife, for during this time I was also bringing up my own three children in Rockland County, New York. I heard echoes of the problem in college dormitories and semiprivate maternity wards, at PTA meetings and luncheons of the League of Women Voters, at suburban cocktail parties, in station wagons waiting for trains, and in snatches of conversation overheard at Schrafft's. The groping words I heard from other women, on quiet afternoons when children were at school or on quiet evenings when husbands worked late, I think I understood first as a woman long before I understood their larger social and psychological implications.

Just what was this problem that has no name? What were the words women used when they tried to express it? Sometimes a woman would say "I feel empty somehow . . . incomplete." Or she would say, "I feel as if I don't exist." Sometimes she blotted out the feeling with a tranquilizer. Sometimes she thought the problem was with her husband or her children, or that what she really needed was to redecorate her house, or move to a better neighborhood, or have an affair, or another baby. Sometimes, she went to a doctor with symptoms she could hardly describe: "A tired feeling. . . I get so angry with the children it scares me . . . I feel like crying without any reason." (A Cleveland doctor called it "the housewife's syndrome.") A number of women told me about great bleeding blisters that break out on their hands and arms. "I call it the house wife's blight" said a family doctor in Pennsylvania. "I see it so often lately in these young women with four, five and six children who bury themselves in their dishpans. But it isn't caused by detergent and it isn't cured by cortisone."

These paragraphs are for me the rhetorical equivalent of the "establishing shot": Friedan describes her personal investment in the problem (she herself has raised a family), hints at the methodology by which she's derived her present conclusions, hints strongly at what she thinks causes it, and wraps it up nicely with a memorable tagline ("the problem that has no name"). As social manifestos go, it doesn't get much better.

What I find interesting reading this today is the extent to which Friedan's writing in The Feminine Mystique works a kind of alarmist rhetoric -- why are women getting married younger and younger in the 1950s?!?! why are they suddenly having so many kids?!?! The Feminine Mystique encouraged a generation of women to challenge the expectations and restrictions that were placed on them, but it did so using some very familiar rhetorical conventions.

One could probably argue based on this that the book is no longer relevant. But to me it's actually encouraging because it suggests you don't need to reinvent the wheel to write something that really makes a difference. You just need to do your homework, show conviction, and above all, be right. In The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan does all three.

Aparna Sen's 15 Park Avenue: Schizophrenia and Genius


My faith in Indian cinema was restored last night with Aparna Sen's masterful 15 Park Avenue (2005). The film stars Sen's own daughter, Konkona Sen Sharma, as well as Waheeda Rehman, Shabana Azmi, Shefali Shah and Rahul Bose. A brilliant cast, and they all hold up their ends quite well.

The film is largely in English, with brief turns to Hindi and Bangla where one would expect to see them realistically (i.e., when characters speak to strangers on the streets of Calcutta). After dabbling with a somewhat more commercial style in Mr. and Mrs. Iyer, Sen has returned to her serious art-house roots. (See my earlier mini-review of Yugant [1995]). 15 Park Avenue has sophisticated cosmopolitan people, heavy-duty dialogue, and extended discussions of the symptoms and treatment possibilities for schizophrenia, all of which seem to be pretty much medically up-to-date and accurate. The dialogue in this movie is the closest one gets in the Indian context to the cerebral intellectualism of Ingmar Bergman or Woody Allen's early films, and I for one couldn't be happier.

I was actually a little hesitant going into this, partly because there have been many mainstream Indian films focusing on mental illness in one way or another in recent years -- all of which I've hated. Probably the biggest of those was Amitabh Bachchan and Rani Mukherjee's Black last year, but one also thinks of the Salman Khan and Kareena Kapoor in Kyon Ki?, where Salman Khan's illness bears no resemblance to any realistic mental illness I've ever seen; Ajay Devgan in Mein Aisa Hi Hoon, which deals with autism, pretty accurately; and Hrithik Roshan in Koi... Mil Gaya, where Hrithik has a developmental disorder about which almost nothing is known, except perhaps that it's "cute." And there are many, many others, most of which I haven't personally seen (an article by Sudha Rai at the Society for Critical Exchange has a theoretical take on a number of these films). Most of these films play up mental illness for pathos, trying very hard to make their protagonists earn the audience's sympathy. And nearly all of them end up being unserious, because they are bound by a set of conventions (really just clichés) for how to deal with mental illness: all very predictable and safe.

Though there is some sentimental attachment to Konkona Sen Sharma's schizophrenic young woman in 15 Park Avenue, Sen's film breaks most of those conventions. Among other things, the film takes quite seriously the difficulties seriously ill people can trigger for their families -- not a small thing. And the personal dangers Sharma's character confronts (rape) as well as the real damage she causes makes this film anything but safe. This film doesn't aim to pander or tell a heartwarming tale where a person who is "different" gains a measure of social acceptance. Rather, both Konkona Sharma's and Shabana Azmi's characters are doing their best just to survive.

In an interview, Sen has said that this film's story is based on someone close to her and her family. I believe it; there is an unflagging realism and commitment to its subject in 15 Park Avenue that just about everything else I've been seeing lately has lacked.

UPDATE: I just came across Uma's fine review of the film at Indian Writing.

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Incidentally, we saw 15 Park Avenue on BW Cinema, a pay service that allows you to stream (not download) a pretty wide range of Indian films for $3.99 (for 3 days) or $9.99 (for a month of unlimited use).
It worked surprisingly well -- the film looked like a 'DVD print', which was watchable on our TV (through an S-Video cord).

But does anyone know if it's truly 100% legal? The company, I gather, is based in Jackson Heights, NY. I hope they are sending the requisite share of revenue to the Indian studios as royalties...

Academic Freedom, Against Itself

Michael Bérubé has a brilliant post/lecture transcript from a few days ago on academic freedom. Best paragraph:

Not all college professors are liberals, and attacks on academic freedom are dangerous partly because, in some instances, they can undermine the intellectual autonomy of conservative professors. And I don’t believe that this is the same old same old, either. What we’re seeing today is actually unprecedented, for two reasons. One is demographic: college professors have, in the aggregate, become more liberal over the past thirty-five years—though, as I’ll explain later on, most of the studies that have been done on this subject in the past three years are exercises in cooking the data. The other is strategic: for the first time in American history, there is an organized, national campaign to undermine academic freedom by appealing to the ideal of . . . academic freedom.

One of the key examples of this is actually a bill passed in Pennsylvania, though as I understand it, it doesn't apply to professors at private universities.

Another Radio Cameo, Cool Huh

The little post I did on Craigslist on Monday evening got me a quick cameo on Radio Open Source (download the MP3 here; I'm at 34:00). Thanks ROS for having me on again, and Craigslist -- do I get a job now?

Incidentally, I had another encounter with radio mini-fame back in June, as a small part of Chris Lydon's interview with Amitav Ghosh.