We are building a new world together

It seems to me that a lot of the resentment around "political correctness" (whether vocally expressed on the right, or secretly felt by liberals and the left) is a resistance to what feels like a compulsory program of reconsidering and changing our speech, action, and how society is structured.

I do think that some of the ways that (well-meaning) people seeking social change frame the issue plays into that belief.

The fact is, though, that what is happening is that we are being invited to participate in creating a new world, one that is less racist, ableist, transphobic, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, classist, and so on. The key is to focus less on what you "can't" do and say, and more on the many new ways we can learn to communicate and behave. After all, why be content with merely acting out our unexamined oppressive attitudes (whether from the point of view of the group that "benefits" or because of internalized racism etc.)?

Take joy and pride in this creative endeavor, and don't be so afraid of making mistakes! Also, point out and be compassionate about the mistakes of others. If someone points out your mistake in a harsh way, figure out what you can learn anyway! Nobody tries to make someone else feel bad without feeling bad themselves.
We will not change the world for the better through guilt and shame, but by reminding each other of our better selves.

Diaspora

My parents, my brother, and I moved to Singapore when I was about six. It was my first immigrant experience. According to my parents, for a while after we moved into our new place, I kept asking when we would go home. An image that stays with me somehow is looking out the window of our fifth floor flat, watching my father walk across the carpark to get in the car to go to work.

In Singapore, my parents would today be called “foreign talent” (I’m not sure if the term was as in wide circulation in the 80s when we migrated), or perhaps “expats” (though that term to me always had connotations of whiteness). They were firmly in the professional class of lawyers, doctors, academics. In fact, many Malaysians moved to Singapore to find work, and that number has grown over the years. In 1990, Malaysians made up 3.7% of the population of Singapore. In 2010, that number was 9.7%.

The terms “foreign talent” and “expatriate” have a certain glamor about them, suggesting a successful, exotic, highly intelligent and/or capable person whose presence in a country is at the very least exciting. A “foreign talent”’s presence could inspire happiness or even gratitude in an imagined native born citizen, who benefits from the expertise and cultural goods that such a visitor brings. As this rather optimistic headline on a letters page of AsiaOne reads, "Majority say foreign talent is the way to go."

Of course, the deliberate use of these terms is in fact calculated to officially foreclose the possibility of (to render unthinkable, uncivilized) the very real resentment of actual citizens who perceive themselves displaced, put upon, or invaded. For those unfortunates who are marked as “migrants” there is little attempt to even mask this xenophobia.

It’s also worth noting that there are other immigrants in Singapore who are not generally referred to as “foreign talent,” but are rather “unskilled workers” or “migrant workers.” They are differently stigmatized (as prone to criminality and a source of disposable labor). However, just having the label of "foreign talent" does not protect one from being the target of "local" resentment or hatred.

After the Olympics this year, the issue of “foreign talent” was in the news in Singapore, and not always in a good way. At the Summer Olympics, Feng Tianwei, who was born in China and became a Singaporean citizen in 2008, won a Bronze medal in the women’s singles table tennis. She is Singapore’s first Olympic individual medalist in 52 years, and the only Olympic individual medalist since Singapore’s independence from Malaysia in 1965. (As a side note, Singapore’s first and only other individual Olympic medalist, Tan Howe Liang, who won the Silver for lightweight weightlifting at the 1960 games in Rome, was also a Chinese immigrant).

Feng’s win, perhaps predictably, triggered an outpouring of vocal ambivalence from Singaporeans on the internet. The Financial Times' brief survey of how the public debate over immigration has been playing out recently in Singapore is revealing:

Comments on social media sites were quick to point out that Ms Feng was born in mainland China and did not get Singapore citizenship until 2008. Meanwhile, 77 per cent of respondents in an online poll conducted by Yahoo Singapore said they were “not proud” of a “foreign import” winning an Olympic medal.

“Honestly, I cannot bring myself to feel proud for a foreigner to win a medal for us, although they carry our Singapore flag,” one person wrote on Yahoo’s Facebook page.

Xenophobia is an almost inevitable (some might say deliberate) product of a highly nationalistic government. In the U.S., there happen to be two slightly different parties that trade power espousing somewhat different flavors of what is essentially the same nationalist ideology, which is echoed by corporations and their media outlets. In Singapore, there is one ruling party that has been in power for quite a while, and that builds nationalism into school curricula and public media.

Never mind that, like the U.S., the majority ethnic/racial group in Singapore (Chinese) is itself descended from migrants, many of whom actually came to Singapore or Malaysia in living memory, and are relatively new immigrants to the region. Now that they (we!) are there, it’s time to turn around and keep someone else out. It seems to me that xenophobia is the dark shadow of any diaspora people who have attempted to make themselves a new home, and to cement their belonging-ness with the blunt tool of nation-building.

Currently, Israel is in the news because it has commenced a bombing campaign in Gaza, with the justification given being that Hamas launched a rocket into Israel. As with almost any new incident involving Israel’s ongoing project of militarized nationalism, it feels almost impossible to talk about competently without years of study of the history of the region. However, I think it is safe to say that there is some sympathetic resonance (in addition to the obvious political connection) between Israel’s attempt to suppress a native population, with the U.S.’s own long history of the suppression of and genocide against Native Americans by a government historically most committed to the advancement of white elites, whose ancestors left Europe, whether to escape religious persecution or to better amass wealth, and who consider North America to be home.

There is an almost unbearable tension in the hearts of a diaspora people between acknowledging their immigrant past and embracing their new home. Even when the immigration has not happened in one’s lifetime, this tension persists. Attempts to resolve it by jettisoning or minimizing the immigrant history and identity lead to xenophobia and genocide in a pathological and ultimately futile attempt to externalize what is in fact an internal battle by seeking to destroy or harm “outsiders” (despite being outsiders ourselves), or seeking to destroy those who were already here (whose existence is a constant reminder of our own foreign-ness).

While Asian Americans often criticize the (white) hegemonic view of them (us?) as “perpetual foreigners,” I wonder too if it might be wise to hold on to some of this identity as “foreign,” to not blend into (white) America the way that the Italians and Irish did, in order to not replicate the xenophobia and genocidal impulses connected to a (white) American identity.

Especially as a middle-class immigrant who gets along pretty well in predominantly white settings (whatever my actual comfort level), there is a strong temptation to believe that other stereotype, that Asians are the “model minority” and are virtually white. It’s a comforting idea, that maybe this phenomenon of (white) Americans treating or regarding me as “not belonging” here might one day come to an end. However, if the price of avoiding being the target of others’ xenophobia is to become xenophobic oneself, or to endorse genocide, then I think that price is not worth paying. Ultimately, all immigrants and their descendants must walk the harder path, but one that I think ultimately preserves our integrity and humanity, that of grappling with and healing our own woundedness, and re-learning the meaning of “home.”

Lies I've Believed or Internalized Capitalism

I'm better than you. I'm a terrible person. I haven't done enough. There's nothing I can do. I should have done better. I don't deserve anything. I deserve better than this. I deserve more than you. You don't deserve anything. Nobody understands me. Everybody else is stupid. Everybody else is happy except me. I haven't suffered enough. I've suffered more than anyone. It's all my fault. It's all your fault. Nobody cares enough. I'm the only one who cares. I don't care enough. Things are always getting worse. You don't know how good you have it.

reductio ad absurdum

by the marvellous Australian poet, cartoonist and mystic,

Michael Leunig

On the Disingenuity of Gratitude

I have recently been involved in a number of small gatherings with other queer people of colour, and I am struck by a particular anemia that I have encountered in my recent life, with regard to the politics of Gratitude.

Often, marginalised people are told we/they "have it easy" in our conditions of relative privilege; for example, that I have it easy as a gay man here in Melbourne, Australia, because it would be far worse if I were in Singapore/Afghanistan/etc. Or that I have it easy here as an Asian man because at least I'm now, generationally entitled to the privileges of citizenship (post-the end of the White Australia policy). Or migrants (of colour) are told "If you don't like it, leave!". Or brown children who make our shoes in appalling conditions of wage slavery have it better than ... not having any work at all...

Of course, there is some legitimacy in orienting onesself to the world from a position of gratitude. First of all, it can be a soothing balm from the exhaustive element of constantly identifying with one's marginalisation. Several studies have shown preliminary findings that a regular practice of gratitude (simply acknowledging and appreciating the 'positive' things and relationships we have in our lives) is highly correlated with, if not causative of, one's experience of happiness and well-being.

From a strictly individual-psychological perspective then, it makes sense to count my blessings, to compare the pleasures of my current situation with the horrendous maleficence of previous countries/cities/polities I have known, and so on.

But of course, there is something mind-numbingly myopic about Ending one's political consciousness at the expression of gratitude.

Lia Incognita writes in her essay for Overland journal:
"Earlier this year, Overland published my personal essay ‘The Name and the Face’ as part of the CAL-Connections project. It was a reflection on language loss, racialisation and the myth of cultural authenticity from my perspective as a ‘1.5 generation’ Chinese-Australian. The essay developed out of a brief piece I read earlier in the year at POC THE MIC, an anti-racist performance night organised by and for people of colour in Melbourne, and open for anyone to attend. In a lot of ways I felt the essay wasn’t particularly radical, because all I really demand is to be able to tell my own story about myself. On the other hand, it’s radical, still, to even call white people white in this country, to say that this ‘is not a white country and never has been’. It’s radical, still, for immigrants of colour to talk about this country from any perspective other than sycophantic gratitude, because our citizenship is always considered conditional."

Sycophantic Gratitude

There is a fire in me that has been (re-)ignited since my recent connections with other queer people of colour here in Melbourne, particularly around leadership and social change, and in celebration of Diwali over a picnic in the Carlton Gardens just yesterday.

I sense in me a re-emergence of a sort of collective impatience that sees, in this 'sycophantic gratitude', a disingenuity, and an anemic quietism of false and privileged spirituality.

In his essay "Why I'm Angry" in the blog the Angry Asian Buddhist, the author writes of his interest in connecting with anger, as an Asian American Buddhist.

"for all their self-proclaimed open-mindedness, the high profile American Buddhist publications generally don’t let in that many Asian American authors. Tricycle is the worst culprit. It’s not as though we don’t exist—it’s just they don’t care enough. I make it my job to point this out because, maybe, someday, it might lead to actual change rather than a privileged complacency."

He then adds:

"There are plenty of other reasons that I blog here, but the main reason I maintain this site is because I’m encouraged by my readers. You may not see them leave comments, but I run into them all the time in the community. And, yes, they are angry—not writhing in conniptions, but seriously indignant. They are upset at a perceived injustice by predominantly White Buddhists of ignoring Asian Americans, who are the biggest part of Buddhist America."

In this, I am reminded of a conversation with my brother (who blogs here on PsychonautErotica as manoverbored), who shared with me that one of the problems with the term 'minority' in describing people of colour is that it actually conflates disempowerment with minoritarian status, which can thus effectively bypass serious engagement with issues of power and privilege.

After all, black and brown folks are actually the world's majority, and so, in the historical contexts of post-European-colonial and settler societies, how have people of colour come to be minorities in the first place?

A great meme that has been on my Facebook newsfeed recently:

And of course, the excellent Wanda Sykes, who beautifully uses humour to demonstrate some of white racial fears of impending minoritarian-status in the USA (and the concurrent dwindling of racial privileges that may be associated with this):

"Ain’t it funny the only time your race or gender is questioned, it’s when you’re not a white man? Cause I think white men, they get upset, they get nervous like a minority or another race get a little power, it makes them nervous cause they get scared that race going to do to them what they did to that race. They get nervous. So they start screaming “Reverse racism! This is reverse racism!” I’m like, wait a minute, ain’t reverse racism when a racist is nice to somebody else? That’s reverse racism. What you’re afraid of is called karma."

Out of Privileged Complacency

My gorgeous friend and white ally Tim Mansfield has written to me, in response to some of the differing views on the 'Left' (and Centre-Left) on the re-election of Obama as U.S. President.

"It's interesting to think of [these] two discourses as a polar-pair, I guess: 

A. Look how far everything's come! 

B. Look how much farther there is to go! 

– yet another pair which, when dancing together enliven, enrich and deepen each other but just get mutually annoying when placed in opposition."

A sense for me then, is that there are conditions in life in which we find it infinitely easier to create and circumnavigate communities of gratitude (often, these conditions are associated with material wealth, access, and privilege). There are other conditions, highly correlated with marginalisation, oppression, and systems that perpetuate large gaps between the Haves and HaveNots, which are not conducive to a path of individual psychological healing.

Part of a progressive politics then, means moving out of the extreme of a total commitment to a politics of Gratitude, moving away from the hypnotically alluring idea that the 'goal of life is to be Happy', and it means allowing ourselves to be contextually, relevantly animated by righteous anger. To collectively commit to creating, nurturing, and sustaining the conditons in which gratitude is no longer only contingent on forced, ritualised, utilitarian, authoritarian and individualistic endeavourings, but is something that is liberated as an inevitable consequence of a meditation on justice that has been properly and deservedly enacted.

So this is where I am at too, in consideration of Gratitude, as part of a dynamic cycle of social change. To be animated both by Gratitude ("look how far everything's come!") AND Righteous Anger ("look how much farther there is to go!"). To let neither emotional state monopolise the experience of my political convictions. To be mired by neither extreme in their 'pathological' manifestations (anemia, in the first, and self-destructive, debilitating exhaustion in the second). 

BOTH are spiritual, working in tandem.
Another one of the Yin and Yang of progressive social change.

Coloured Paper

My original post on this is on the Melbourne Colouring Book

A few days ago, the Australian Government released
The White Paper : Australia in the Asian Century, which "sets out a strategic framework to guide Australia’s navigation of the Asian Century."


The official website says more:

"The scale and pace of Asia’s transformation is unprecedented and the implications for Australia are profound. Australia’s geographic proximity, depth of skills, stable institutions and forward-looking policy settings place it in a unique position to take advantage of the growing influence of the Asian region.

The Australian Government commissioned a White Paper on Australia in the Asian Century to consider the likely economic and strategic changes in the region and what more can be done to position Australia for the Asian Century"



An example of an action that the paper raises is around a long-term investment in "Asia literacy", including mandating that schools across Australia will teach at least one of four priority Asian languages (Mandarin, Hindi, Indonesian, and Japanese).

This, of course, has interesting implications for our national identity. Australia has, colloquially, tended to be referred to (by others, and also self-referentially), as a "Western country," despite being more accurately geographically situated as an island in the South Pacific (Northwest of Aotearoa New Zealand, and mostly actually Southeast of our closest continental neighbour: Asia)...

The word "Western" is very loaded, of course, and I interpret this to mean that Australia tends to trace its national heritage to European, U.S. American, and Anglicised continental roots, while paying lip service to our indigenous Aboriginal heritage. Another connotation of the word "Western," beyond cultural legacy, is of course the suggestion of Whiteness...

There is something quite powerful, as a statement, about nationally committing ourselves to being more geographically honest, in this regard, while also being most economically feasible as a long-term national and cultural investment in this sort of regionalism, in Asia...

A wonderful essay has been written in the Sydney Morning Herald which explores some of these implications...:

Australia's Asian-ness is barely visible

by Tim Soutphommasane




Now, I am no politician nor economist, but as a layperson, and as a citizen, I write this post as mere conjecture:
As a queer Asian-Australian man, the thought of an "Asian Century" intrigues me.

The phrase itself speaks to the part of me that is perhaps embarrassingly parochial... Since I was 3 years old, I have not lived in a country in which I was a citizen, nor, since my adult life, one in which I was part of a racial or ethnic majority... I am, of course, simultaneously critical of the ways that nationalist identities can and do reinforce certain forms of racial and cultural supremacy. Extreme nationalism to me has often been suggestive of violence, and at least in the context of the USA and Australia, a subtle and not-so-subtle White supremacy.





And then:
There is something in here, in the metaphor of the "White Paper" and the "Asian Century" which interests me, from a queer perspective.


First, to play with this:
What of a metaphor of Coloured Paper?
(as a metaphorical canvas upon which we could explore policy as well as culture?)

What of a Queer Asian Century?

What does multiculturalism look like, outside of a "Western" framework?
What room is there, given the explicit use of the term "Asian" (as opposed to, for example, "Eastern"), to raise issues not just of multiculturalism (such as Australia has done thus far), but also of multiracialism (e.g. in the case example of Singapore)...? What are the implications of including this explicit discourse of race, given the racially-charged name of the "Asian Century"?
As Soutphommasane has written, where are all of the Asian people in this country already, in terms of being featured in positions of civil service?
What would it mean to inherit a British Parliamentary system, including a number of the cultural 'advancements' that we have made as a country for example around the decriminalisation of homosexuality, when we contrast this with other countries in Asia (or the Asia-Pacific region)?

What happens when a baton is passed, from an Anglo-normative government to a pluralistically Asian-normative government?
Is this actually going to happen?

And what will race look like in such a context?
What will racism look like in such a context?

Paradoxes of Group Life...

Kenwyn K. Smith & David N. Berg's "Paradoxes of Group Life: Understanding Conflict, Paralysis, and Movement in Group Dynamics" just arrived in the mail a few days ago...

Just started reading it, and I am very pleased with their consideration of racial(ised) subjectivities and the diverse cultural lenses through which certain forms of group behaviour or 'governance' are constructed as normative.

Also really glad that in their intro, David Berg writes that his interest in paradox emerged through engaging with his Jewish heritage, and in particular, Talmudic exegesis (Rabbinical commentaries on the Torah).

He remarks, "The purpose of [the] arguments [that he had as a child with his father] were rooted in a tradition of Talmudic dispute... to explore an issue and generate some insight, not to defeat the other side. In the Talmud, there are a number of famous pairs - sages whose names, linked together, are a symbol of opposing views. One famous pair -Hillel and Shammai - dispute a number of legl matters throughout the Talmud. Those who have studied these judical texts know that when all the arguing is done, the legal rulings almost always follow Hillel's reasoning. The obvious question is: If the law is always according to Hillel, why have Shammai's arguments been studiously preserved for almost fifteen hundred years?

Perhaps this inclusion is meant to suggest that the other side is also inside the law somewhere and inside us always. The presence of both sides allows us to examine more fully, to understand the complexity of a situation without reducing it to a simple rule or adage. The fullness of our understanding - an understanding that carries with it the other side - enables us to empathize with, make a relationship with, and listen to the other side within us and within our social groups."