Loudness is in the genes

The teenager I started to speak with, turned his head to stare at me. You’re too loud, he said, I don’t like loudness. Fair enough, I responded, dropping my voice to a stage whisper, does this work better for you? This was a family counselling session, and it seemed to me that the boy was habituated to pushing buttons. His intent may have been only to embarrass the adults, but his statement gave me food for thought. Perhaps, culturally we are indeed rather loud in this country. ‘Privacy’ hardly exists; even personal conversations tend to be broadcast to all and sundry.

 

 

It must be the result of social learning. But surely it didn’t happen in a day, and has been ingrained in us over generations. It shows up our cultural roots - the agrarian background, the traditional collectivism, and the societal divisions based on birth that has been the practice of our ancestors. Sharing everything within the biraderie (one’s own kind, family or caste) was common within these social groups. Their information pool grew as a result; it nurtured interpersonal ties, and gave the group the strength of unity. Social allegiances were inward, and the wellbeing of the community trumped that of individuals.

These bonds were routinely reinforced through various activities, especially those of religious festivals, whereby the entire community was able to come together. To be loud was to feel at home, included in the crowd. Entire villages grew around this biraderie of strong intra-group ties. People didn’t need to whisper; it was safe to holler across cultivation fields and large ponds. Where everybody was somehow related to everybody else, there were no secrets. 

Mostly for economic reasons, this scenario has changed today. Many village people migrate to the towns in search of work, and their own kind therein is minority, like small fish in big ponds. Still, the loud communicative patterns are carried forward from village to city. They may now own mobile phones, but they still holler in answer to phone-calls, unconsciously attempting to bridge distance between members, as in the past.

Loudness many also be a technique meant to establish some level of interpersonal positional authority. Parents and teachers do it to ensure compliance in children.  Age, in Indian traditions, is hugely respected, even if the difference is only of a few years. The form of address tends to change, in response to social perceptions. For instance, in Hindi, there are three distinct forms of address. Anybody a little older assumes the right to address younger people as ‘tum’ rather than ‘aap’. Amongst peers, the form is generally ‘tu’, which testifies to their mutual familiarity.

Although in cities, many diverse families house in close proximity, the loudness continues - albeit here, it is for a different reason. More people, more establishments and more vehicles lead to rising levels of white noise.  As a matter of course, people go up the scale to compensate for the hustle and bustle of everyday living. The loud to drown out ubiquitous external sounds. And, because we forget to adjust in more confined spaces, raised voices in ordinary conversations become normal, not an obvious sign of conflict.

Thus, loudness must be embedded in our genes. For women in a patriarchal society, however, loudness is new learned behaviour of social assertiveness, a measure to protect their comparatively new self-dependence. Through generations, men have had tacit social sanction to shout at their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters. Women, perceived as second-class citizens, are thus dominated verbally, and sometimes much more. Any man on the street, unwilling to change with the times, and considering himself superior to women, would expect similar subservience from them. Women now need to be loud to ensure that boundaries are kept, and they are not aggressed upon. Being shouted at by a woman in public is extremely shaming for the Indian male! 

Culturally, we are loud, but our communications are faulty, since the collectivistic element of our heritage is almost lost. A new togetherness has not been built with the diverse city elements; rather the traditional concept of the biraderie diminishes. The extended ‘family’ of yore has been left by the wayside. The social universe grows smaller, and we hardly know who lives next door. We routinely become members of various social groups, but our allegiances to them are tenuous. 

The outcomes of public arguments may depend on the vocal strength of each side, as is often clearly proved with our state and union parliament representatives - members rush into the well of the House, shout slogans, and so on, to crank up the decibels. They need to understand that mere loudness is hardly the substance of good, communicative governance! Similarly, our inherited speech patterns need reexamination too, if we want others to actively listen to our words of wisdom.

Preservation of culture?

In categorizing people into ‘us’ and ‘them’ groups, we refer to culture a lot.  According to our standards of judgement, these others belong to cultures that may be somewhat like us, or more usually, backward to us. Individual behaviours that may differ from our own, we tend to attribute to their cultural origins, their social DNA. Obviously, the term is of great importance to determine status in the civilized world.  

Culture means different things to different people. The spectrum of definitions the ‘Net throws up is wide, including: 

• Human intellectual achievement
•  Language, religion, cuisine, social habits, music and arts
•  Quality of excellence in person or society in manners and scholarly pursuits
•  A form or stage of civilization
•  Development or improvement of the mind by education or training
•  Shared beliefs and behaviours of particular ethnic, social or age group.

However, in India, and elsewhere in the world, the administrative view of culture focuses on one aspect only – a form or stage of civilization. Accordingly, the preservation of culture is a practice. This does not apply to the mainstream, which may socialize in the global community. It is meant instead to protect uncontacted tribes located in the remotest parts of India’s vast diversity. But, does the process work?

 

No doubt the bureaucracy started out with sound rationales behind the practice.  Because they have lived so long in their own microcosms, these tribes have become endangered species. The rest of the world is toxic for them; hence the intention to save their numbers makes sense. Their physical survival is important against germs of modernity becoming life-threatening diseases.  

They are kept away on reservations of land tract, forest or islands. Their way of life of centuries continues, and that, on face value, seems logical. The social organization, their family structure, relationships and laws are to remain the same, same and same, as they ever were in the bygone days. Taxpayer monies are pumped in to maintain the appropriate ambience, and very heavy restrictions imposed on the surrounding environment. The laws strictly prohibit any interactions between mainstream society these isolated threads of humanity. Mainstream society is warned against entering their preserves, meeting the inhabitants or photographing them up close.  

I, however, find the present process discomforting. Fact is process implementation is faulty with inadequate safeguards and lax supervision. Its very purpose defeats with asphalt roads constructed around the reservations for the flow of convoys of tourist vehicles. When modernity invades their backyard, the tribes are hardly uncontacted anymore. The alien presence they are supposedly protected from is emphatically brought home to the people of the land. 

It seems to have become discriminatory, to keep the uncontacted backward, and make them anthropological attractions. Their ‘form or stage of civilization’ feeds the majority self-esteem. Tour operators rely on the greed of lower level administrative personnel to sell their tours. Their tourist convoys are little different from any jungle safari in search of exotic animals. There is folklore of their wild nature, their mistrust of outsiders, and their attacks with bows and poison-tipped arrows. They are taken as creatures of the wild and their habitats human zoos that excited tourists want to visit.  

The natural curiosity of a people is played upon. Inquisitive customers on tour crane their necks in eagerness for glimpses of their appearance with little or no clothing.  Convoy drivers are bribed to stop, and the tribals – especially women and children – to approach, enticed with food and other objects. They must then perform for the entertainments of a voyeuristic ‘superior’ civilization. The fact that they are living, breathing human beings worthy of dignity and respect, escapes attention. 

It carries the flavour of exploitation of groups unused to the culture of deception and guile. Unscrupulous middlemen take advantage of the gray areas. They grab every opportunity presented by loopholes in the system to further vested interests. Wherever there is an obstacle, bribes or favours are freely exchanged. What then is the point of laws when the measures to enforce them are weak or nonexistent?

 

In South America, watchdog organizations are able to expose the racketeering of corporate bodies that flout laws with impunity for their profits – owning land without title, deforesting without environmental licences. Because the people are isolated from modernity, and have neither the knowledge of laws, nor vigilant administrative support, they are easy prey for predatory groups unconcerned by their extinction. The spokespersons for some ancient tribes in Brazil and Peru have even claimed genocide of tribal population. 

One report from Paraguay last year says:

The secret agenda of a huge ranching firm in Paraguay has been exposed by satellite photos showing a newly-constructed reservoir. The reservoir reveals the firm’s intention to clear nearby forest belonging to an uncontacted tribe. In a pattern characteristic of the Chaco region, landowners first build large water containers before clearing tracts of forest for livestock. Carlos Casado SA’s construction of the reservoir puts neighboring Indians, especially uncontacted Ayoreo, in immediate danger.

Another report in March this year points out the growing dangers posed by unbridled industry:

Many Ayoreo have already been contacted and have been claiming title to the land owned by Carlos Casado S.A. for more than twenty years. Their uncontacted relatives who remain in the forest are extremely vulnerable to diseases brought in by outsiders, and unwanted contact could be deadly. The uncontacted Ayoreo are being forced to flee as their forest is being rapidly bulldozed to make way for cattle. … In 2009, Survival International successfully lobbied shareholders such as the Church of England and the Rowntree Trust to disinvest from mining giant Vedanta Resources, because of the company’s intention to mine the sacred mountain of the Dongria Kondh tribe.

 

It may be argued that in the Indian context, the situation is not so dire. I would add ‘yet’ since it is only a matter to time before it might be. The environment and fragile ecosystems are already endangered, as changing weather patterns testify. The lack of ethics in modern society makes illegal mining, deforestation, poaching, and industrial pollutions almost the rule. Corporate bottomlines drive the agenda, backed by powerful resources. Faced with the politico-corporate nexus, the bureaucracy falls silent, while India’s non-governmental social organizations lack bite. 

Superiority in this new age is certainly in terms of corruption. It threatens not only people groups, but also planet survival. The majority should forget their preoccupation with empty status and relearn from people backward to us a bit of forgotten ancient traditions. The uncontacted tribes have preserved a culture for centuries, that the mainstream has lost sight of – adaptability to Nature, and harmonious existence with its creations. They could ensure longevity of the planet, and yes, of our modernity.