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Reviews
Seira Tamang
Amidst the criticisms of foreign consultants and the lack of ethical commitment of workers in the development field in Nepal, women-in-development netris have hitherto remained relatively unscathed. Their very "Nepaliness" and "womanhood" have given them the stamp of moral authority from and with which to conduct their work. The implicit assumption is that these particular women who research, write papers and reports, and present their work at conferences "authentically" represent not only the situations, but needs and wants of their illiterate and less fortunate female counterparts - an authority to speak "on behalf of" others by virtue of a mandate given by nature and the boundaries of a nationally imagined political community. But, Bonds of Sisterhood aside, exactly how much in common does a professional woman living in Kathmandu, sitting in an office, with a maid at home and someone to make the tea at work, have with a woman physically laboring in fields, factories, offices and other peoples' homes?
The assumption that WID netris can speak on behalf of all women living in Nepal, transcending ethnic, class, caste, religous and age boundaries, is evident from the fact that their reports and speeches contain not the smallest caveat concerning the relative position of power and privilege from which they speak, which in turn could cause a little doubt (among themselves or others) concerning their findings and consequent policy prescriptions. It is not surprising in this context that WID reports are permeated by the authorial voice - from the position of power as "author", these WID netris are situated above their work, writing about "Nepali" women in need of development. It rests upon the shoulders of these agency-driven netris to - in the staple WID formula - raise the consciousness of their less fortunate sisters about the symptoms and causes of societal oppression and to act as catalysts in increasing awareness and organizing women for self help and self development - in short, to help them "empower" themselves.
Ideas of "consciousness-raising" and "empowerment" are pervasive in these reports and policy recommendations. Their facile use glosses over the fact that the idea of consciousness-raising assumes several things at different levels, not the least being that, for example, young girls need to be made aware that it is their brothers who get to eat first, stay in school longer and receive proportionately larger percentages of family resources - a most problematic assumption. When the awareness of the women under study is acknowledged, differences of opinion and outlook from the researchers own agenda are viewed as mainly reflective of different stages of raised consciousness. Consciousness-raising therefore not only assumes a consciousness that lies waiting to be changed, thereby ignoring the fact that reality is continually changing and changes when practiced and discussed, but denies the embeddedness of womens' experiences in an complex and changing interplay of social, economic, and political factors.
The invocation of the fiction of a Nepali mahila submerges the dimensions of class, caste, ethnicity, religion, and age fundamental in the constructions of the different realities of different women, for that of a single, collective Nepali, female reality engineered by an elite.
Thus while patriarchy, government indifference, socio-pyschological perceptions and the like, will be blamed in reports and speeches for the inability to turn general, "appropriate" WID policy prescriptions into specific guidelines and implementable programs, the "appropriateness" of those policy prescriptions themselves are not questioned. The fact that information garnered from interviews, surveys and "participatory programs" that can only be participatory up to a certain level, is then filtered through the WID netris lens (configured from particular social, historical and political experiences), appears not to be pertinent to the construction of appropriate policies.
In this context, the lack of a singular feminist movement in Nepal (a fact often bemoaned) may point to the need for reconceptualization. What have been hitherto seen as scattered attempts to take up certain issues, may point to emerging forms of different feminisms. A rejection of an unitary consciousness and unitary feminism in Nepal is not to deny that women as women have no need to organize and fight against certain structured inequalities. It is to say that more universal principles need to be concretized through contextualization. Whether it be issues of property rights, abortion, or development in general, the experience of women in their specificities - their very real historical and social contexts - must be understood. This will further facilitate political strategies between women and between women and men, in so far as it will not be biology that authenticates and justifies grounds for struggle, but the manner in which we make political connections among different forms of struggles.
(Seira Tamang is a student of political science)
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Mary Des Chene
From the first issue, published in 2049, the semi-annual journal Bikas has been an exception to the usual run of publications on development. This is a working journal that issues from the least populated district of NGO-land, call it Swadesh. There, a few home-grown organizations like the "Sustainable Livelihood Forum", publisher of Bikas, quietly do grassroots work, while the captains of the development industry gather at another 5-star hotel seminar to concoct the łgrassroots˛ flavour of the month for international export.
I do not mean that Bikas issues from some idyllic region of "alternative" development. On the contrary, it is precisely the strength of this journal that the Nepal it presents includes the struggles of the poor and disenfranchised, the agendas of the bikas and rajniti industries, and promising efforts to forge alternatives to mainstream development. Its Nepal contains much suffering, much pretense and profiteering in the name of alleviating that suffering, and rays of hope in the form of creative resistance, collective action and searching analysis. Unlike the storybook portrait of a country comprised of the poor and their helpers too often painted by development practicioners - a portrait in which the uncomfortable subject of politics appears as a hazy backdrop and the development industry itself remains an unseen hand outside its borders altogether - this realistic portrait gives Bikas a chance at serious discussion of development. What has it done with that chance?
A great deal. While the format (columns, features, etc.) continues to evolve in keeping with the editors' sense of relevance, Bikas has always included the following: i) feature articles that combine reflection on the social philosophy inherent in various approaches to development with grounded analysis of particular issues, ii) village profiles, often by a resident, that bring out basic problems from a local perspective, iii) sahitya/sanskriti sections containing critiques 'from below' and expressions of worldviews not neatly encompassed within development plans for the future, iv) short articles meant to stimulate debate, ranging from informational pieces on national issues to first-hand reflections on experiences of doing development or being its target and, v) a running commentary on the political-economic philosophy of mainstream development, particularly as it is embedded in its vocabulary. The journal is worth reading for any of these alone, but what Bikas does best of all is to bring out interrelations among the above categories, sometimes by juxtaposition, more often through explicit discussion.
Thus in the current issue (No. 10), Anil Bhattarai's lead article on currently dominant conceptions of "environmental degradation" and the economic assumptions and views about state's vs. people's rights embedded in "mitigation" efforts, is a model of deeply informed analysis presented in simple prose, and of a vast issue addressed without oversimplification by attaching it to concrete realities. That discussion is further grounded by the profile of Nabalpur by a Majhi who has firsthand experience of environmental protection meaning destruction of a way of life and deprivation of one's livelihood. Three other pieces on what is meant, in practice, by sustainable development, and on sustainable livelihoods, complete the serious invitation presented in this issue to rethink the basic values built into calculations of "success" in development.
Bikas never engages in the happy-talk so prevalent in development circles, but neither is it monolithically critical. The article on the Community Forest User Group law of 2049, lauds its very positive effects, but is published now to create awareness of the possible negative effects of proposed revisions to that law. It is a good example of Bikas' role as a clearinghouse for critical information (cf. articles on West Seti and the Anti-Terrorist Act in this issue). And despite its critical agenda, neither is Bikas a gloomy read. Sharad Paudel's brilliant "Chaturman" series (issues 1-3,5), an ethnographic guide to "bikas culture" by a sharp-eyed refugee from the mainstream development world, is devastating and hilarious by turns. The Chepang song in the current issue, its celebration of Chepang gender relations punctuated by the spunky refrain - "tell us now, how are we smaller than others?" - should give courage to anyone who struggles against global monoculture or localized forms of oppression, while making people rethink prevalent stereotypes of Chepang people in particular. Sustained attention to Nepali women's and dalits' issues on one side, and to the contradictions inherent in international development practices on the other (e.g. Pant in this issue) bring readers constantly up against the chasm between human realities and aspirations on the one side, and global development trends on the other.
Bikas has a political philosophy, one that should be lauded simply for being based neither on party directives nor profit motives. This alone makes it a shining example in the burgeoning print media, not to mention the development world. Delving deeper through reading, whether one comes to agree with that philosophy or not, any reader will have ample chance to be educated - that is, stimulated to think - by its clear, principled presentation.
Bikas has sought to be a forum for debate and sharing of information. Neither a fantasy forum for planners, nor a celebratory one for the damage-control brigade, but a place for serious, honest evaluation of the theoretical assumptions and realpolitik behind planning, and of on-the-ground realities, including the results of development interventions. To that end, the journal's editors (Sharad Paudel joined variously by Subarna Kapali, Sadananda Kandel, Kumar Singh Rai, and Anil Bhattarai) and advisors (Mahesh Pant, Tikaram Bhattari, Ashok Maharjan and others) have sought to keep the prose simple, and make it a forum for - and as much as possible by - nitty-gritty hands-on community development workers. In their own assessment, they have had only partial success. The editorials of the first three issues recount the dismal lack of response from NGOs, which evinced scant enthusiasm either for distributing Bikas to their workers or for encouraging them to write for it. An editorial of 2051 pondered whether anyone but the editors think it's important to have such voices taking part in discussion of development. That question remains today.
That Bikas isn't "the thing" to read and contribute to, from INGO board rooms to NGO field offices, speaks volumes about the development industry. Yet that neglect may not be entirely bad for the journal itself. The ever-present danger of appropriation and dilution that stalks growth in scale and prominence in print (and other) media, is probably yet greater when the subject is development - where the stakes for effective image management are so high. I hope Bikas can survive to work against the grain, reaching out to those who are targets of development and to development workers troubled by dissonances between the plans they are instructed to implement and the realities they see. Certainly the numbers of both are legion. Where is the NGO that will make it its project to see that Bikas reaches them and to encourage them to become its authors? That is a "sustainable development" project that could make a tangible difference!
(M. Des Chene is an editor of Studies in Nepali History and Society)
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Melinda Pilling
With all the hub-bub surrounding Visit Nepal Year 1998, Vincanne Adams's Tigers of the Snow and Other Virtual Sherpas offers its readers important insights into the effects of a tourism and foreign-aid based economy on Nepali cultures. Unlike many ethnographers of the Sherpas, Vincanne Adams is not concerned with recording the lifestyle of a "vanishing" culture before it is swept out of existence by the forces of modernization. Rather, Adams shows us how modern Sherpas--both "intrinsically real" and "imaginatively produced"--emerge through relationships with Western tourists, friends, and sponsors. In doing so, she presents important questions about the role of anthropology in modernization (which, she points out, isn't all that different from that of tourism after all). Tigers of The Snow and Other Virtual Sherpas encourages its readers to critically analyze relationships between Western tourists, anthropologists, and development workers and their Sherpa friends in "Himalayan encounters."
Adams's ethnography begins at the airport, where she is greeted by a San Miguel beer advertisement featuring a huge beer bottle and can next to a much smaller picture of Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, who died shortly after summiting Everest in 1993. Adams points out that in climbing mountains "because they want to" Sherpas have become what Westerners desire--similar yet different, needy and deserving of aid, accommodating of change yet preserving the parts of their culture that tourists and anthropologists find so appealing. Discussing the ways in which Pasang Lhamu's death has been used to promote beer and tourism, Adams asks her readers to reflect on "who authorizes the expenditure of life" in Himalayan mountaineering expeditions and "who profits from it" (4). This is a question important to pose in 1998, the year in which the virtues of tourism as a way to revitalize the economy, promote development, and even preserve the environment are being loudly proclaimed. Never taking recourse to a simple notion of culture which would locate it in a "native" population, Adams shows us how "Tigers of the Snow," the Sherpas that Westerners have come to trust and desire, are produced in the ever-elusive borderlands between the Himalayas and the West.
It is important to understand that Adams's ethnography is not an ethnography of living, breathing Sherpas so much as it is one of "virtual Sherpas," Sherpas more "Sherpa" than Sherpas themselves who, through encounters with the West, have become possessed of super-Sherpa virtues. This concept of the virtual Sherpa gains clarity and strength through Adams's discussion of the modern (and modernizing) Sherpa industries of mountaineering tourism, shamanism, Buddhism, development, medicine, and anthropology. Adams shows us how modern, virtual Sherpas come into being as products of two related modernizing compulsions: the first, to become like Western representations of Sherpas via mimesis; the second, to ensure Western sponsorship and business through seduction. Adams claims that in becoming what Westerners desire, virtual Sherpas create virtual Westerners--rich, generous, and perfectly suited to the role of a sponsor. Pointing out the mutuality of seduction, Adams argues that Westerners are not the sole producers of sameness and difference. Instead, she shows how the anthropological tradition of locating "difference" in the others of the West upholds the neo-colonialist power structures of late modernity.
Herein lies the importance of Tigers of the Snow and Other Virtual Sherpas to contemporary debates about development and foreign aid in Nepal. Adams points out that the economy of tourism and foreign sponsorship render Western interest a more salient influence on Sherpa culture than the Nepali state. I would argue that this is perhaps true of all of Nepali life, and that the huge promotion of Visit Nepal Year 1998 within Nepal speaks to His Majesty's Government's recognition of this fact in its attempts to seduce foreign investment, tourism, and aid.
I want to end this review by comparing the billboard image of Pasang Lhamu with which Adams opens her ethnography of virtual Sherpas with another image, this one taken from the front page of the Sunday, January 4 edition of the Kathmandu Post. The photo is of two Nepali girls riding on a float in the New Year's day kick off parade for Visit Nepal Year 1998. The older girl, in the foreground of the photo, is wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. Behind her stands a rather sullen-looking young girl in traditional costume. The reader has the impression that the older girl, our thoroughly modern tour guide, is showing us "Nepali culture" in the form of the discontent and unmodernized younger girl behind her. The caption reads: "UNDER ONE ROOF--the rapidly disappearing Nepali culture shares a float with the all-conquering Western culture." Adams's work makes it clear that Nepali modernity is constantly under negotiation. If--as the Post photo caption smartly suggests--the reduction of things Nepali to an ornament of a modern tourist economy is the message of Visit Nepal Year 1998, it must be asked: who profits from it?
(Melinda Pilling is a student in the University of Wisconsin Nepal Program)
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Sangeeta Gurung
"Tara - A Fleshtrade Odyssey" by the American author Matthew S.Friedman is set in Calcutta and tells us of the abduction of a young Indian girl, Tara, her consequent 'introduction' to prostitution, and of her family's efforts to save her.
The author s strength lays in the contextualization of the story. It is obvious he has done thorough research for this book and has drawn on his experience in the field of international health. He describes Calcutta slums using lexis that give us a vivid picture of them in our minds. Furthermore, the characters that make up Tara's family are easily recognisable to those living in underdeveloped countries. For example, there s Krishna- Tara's brother - the street child rooting around the rubbish dump for objects to sell and eat, and Tara s father - the man from the village trying to make it good in the city - but falling into a cycle of poverty and drinking, and so on. Friedman also gives us an idea of the workings of a brothel - the brokers involved, psychological tactics used to pressure their 'merchandise' (girls) into submission, client preferences and manoeveurings...all of which give an insight into the mechanisms and people connected and affected by the 'Fleshtrade'.
It is when Friedman enters into the emotional realm of the story, concerning the family s and Tara s feelings that his book falters. This is especially noticeable when Tara is involved. The reader feels somehow uninvolved and distant, and more of an onlooker to the unfolding events - the reader is never drawn in. For example, during the rape scene (Tara s initiation into prostitution) instead of feeling outraged and shocked - we feel as though we're watching from a distance - safe and sound. This may just be a reflection of Friedman s ability as a writer. Or it could be that Friedman as a man from a different cultural background didn't feel himself capable of showing us Tara's feelings and emotions during the rape scene. In fact Friedman goes into very little detail - perhaps wisely staying away from an area where he might have got himself into difficulties. But then one has to ask why in his introduction, Friedman states that the novel tries to capture what it is like for a young girl with no sexual experiences to be taken from her family and her community, and forced to submit to the will of the brothel owners who care about nothing except making a profit . Clearly, his novel fails in this endeavour.
It maybe due to this lack of emotional power that we feel detachment from Tara's plight - a detachment which I feel is in a way dangerous. Women trafficking is a serious issue which affects many of the families in Nepal and India, and we - especially women - should feel morally outraged by the story of Tara. Instead of feeling outrage at the injustice we see, we come away from the book thinking of it in terms of a 'good story' and not as a book that sends a message to people. The message should have been a very powerful one of how girls/women are made to suffer against their will in the 'flesh trade'. Instead we read a good story that is informative about many things - Calcutta, the slums, and the workings of a brothel, etc - but ultimately lacks a certain emotional power which could have been used more effectively to really bring the issues behind the story home in a far more emphatic way.
Perhaps the story-line itself is in a way responsible for the almost detached quality of the book. How realistic is it to assume that once a young girl from a very poor family goes missing that her family would go to such great efforts to find her and bring her back home? Wouldn't it be realistic to assume that they would appreciate the fact that they had one less mouth to feed? How feasible is it that a stranger, especially living in an area like Calcutta, would lend Tara's father - a pauper - Rs. 5,000 with the offer that he'd lend him some more if he needed it to rescue Tara ? The characters seem almost too convenient - as if they were there simply to push the story along in the direction the author required. This unrealistic quality in the story only aggravates the feeling of detachment concerning Tara s plight.
While the book is short and readable and gives us a good idea of the workings of the 'Fleshtrade' without drowning us in statistics and figures, it would not be the heart-wrenching tale of love, life corruption and evil promised by the jacket cover of the book.
(Sangeeta Gurung is a harried working mother of two children)
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Jasmine Rajbhandary
Ethnopolitics is emerging as a subject of analysis in Nepal, as it is elsewhere in South Asia. This of course includes a re-visit to the role of caste in society and national development. However, a majority of the existing analysis about caste, until recently, was conducted by Western sociologists and anthropologists and therefore presents caste and its hierarchy as being representative of whole societies objectified as homo hierarchus (a highly integrated and unified culture and structure where there is little human agency/consciousness or a society which is one dimensional).
Steven Parish in Hierarchy and its Discontents: Culture and the Politics of Consciousness in Caste Society attempts to analyze this concept of homo hierarchus formulated by Louis Dumont and ascertain its relevance to South Asia through discussion about the Newar caste system and untouchables in India. In doing this ethnographic study, through person centered research, Parish presents the multiple perspectives of some Newar people in Bhaktapur and his interpretation of them. The interpretation of these perspectives is largely a medium for his own critique and inquiry of cultural hierarchy theories such as those of Dumont, Gadamer and Habermas.
Parish's central theme is that caste society is not homo hierarchus, but instead one where diverse human actors exist and have agency. By adding the facet of mental space and consciousness of self and society to this analysis, he removes caste (or in fact any system of hierarchy) from being a system without involvement of persons. This forces analysts to recognize the people in studied societies as active actors and to include personhood construction as an element of the development of societies and structures. He states that hierarchy needs enforcing as well as an ideological buttressing, but that necessity, hunger and survival are also integral aspects of the continuation of the caste system. Humans have to confront existence and so may be intellectually inconsistent and constantly ambiguous regarding life and caste.
In addition to having agency and being diverse, Parish points out that, people also therefore have diverse consciousnesses about culture. This diversity is presented through perceptions of actors involved, regarding the origins and necessity of caste system, and the understanding of culture and human agency, as well as the conflict and dilemmas of moral order. He also states that this cultural consciousness is ambivalent as it varies according to contexts and therefore so does justice. As such he states that hierarchy and equality (justice and moral order) have an interplay not just co-existence, and the politics of identity plays a crucial role in this. Parish concludes that hierarchy and culture are not only full of consensus, but also discontents. Transformation therefore begins in the politics of consciousness and the potential for change originates in mental life.
Additionally, his postscript on the problem of power and achieving equality as well as his note on the implications of the term 'political unconsciousness' are clearly crucial readings for those oriented more towards action. The idea of agency is one which tremendously complements the move towards participation in development.
However, Parish admittedly, falls prey to his own criticism of presenting caste as an overwhelming issue, as he himself largely ignores another facet of personhood - gender. It is also surprising to find a chapter titled ' The Indian Untouchable's Critique of Culture', which discusses necessity as the single critique of culture limited to the untouchables, in a fashion similar to that for which he criticizes Dumont.
Despite these shortcomings, Hierarchy and its Discontents brings attention to the often ignored complexity of reality in a hierarchical system such as caste, as well as fresh insight into cultural critique of caste, its legitimacy and continued existence, through the perceptions of those in it. In a theoretical framework, what Parish attempts do, is present his understanding of the dilemmas of individuals struggling to live in and balance their lives in a stratified society created before his/her existence. Such analysis is essential for a society as diverse as Nepal, but needs to go beyond theory to ensure a true understanding of the vast heterogeneity of the people here and the development of their political consciousness..
(Jasmine Rajbhandary is affiliated with INHURED International (International Institute for Human Rights, Environment and Development), Pulchowk, Lalitpur)
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