Make a REAL Difference

More than $1 Trillion in developmental aid has gone to Africa over the past 50 years. So, what kinds of benefits has all that money provided to the people who live on the continent? Not much, says former World Bank consultant Dambisa Moyo in her book Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How there Is a Better Way. Her thesis is that aid given as a hand out does not work and never will, as it does not hold the governments disbursing the aid accountable. A continent which is awash with dictators who preside over failed states, aid as a concept seems to have had very little long term impact. Present and past political regimes have used the bureaucracy of international aid to further their primary goal of maintaining a grip on power. Robert Mugabe is a great example for our times.

Institutional aid coming from governments, The World Bank, UN and IMF have proven to be ineffective. According to Dambisa Moyo there is a growing sentiment among experts and African leaders that aid does not foster entrepreneurship and therefore on the long run does not benefit the people of the receiving nation. Therefore she recommends African nations to decline aid and get off the wagon of panhandlers and foster entrepreneurship among its people.

One cannot deny the abject poverty that needs to be dealt with on a short term basis to bring about a level of stability. Non governmental organizations such as Oxfam, Doctors Without Borders and countless others are doing a phenomenal job in tackling poverty. What can you do, (other than writing a check to one of these organizations and not knowing how the money is being spent) where you can truly feel empowered?

In her book Dambisa Moyo mentions an American Internet based not-for profit-organization called KIVA which is providing a commendable service by offering micro-credit to entrepreneurs in poor countries. I immediately went to www.kiva.org and was amazed by the brilliance of the idea. Within minutes I found an African woman in need of money to get her small store off the ground. Using my paypal account I donated $25. Hours later I found out she had received her money and she was able to raise the finance she needed from several individuals like me to start her business. The best part, the money I gave was a loan and not a hand out. She is supposed to pay it back when her business improves and there is a term limit on the loan.

I have given money to organizations which work with the poor many times. I am an Oxfam patron. But this is the first time I could genuinely see, almost in real time, my money at work.
It was truly empowering and satisfying and I felt I was contributing to more than one person or family. I urge everyone to go to www.kiva.org and make a REAL difference.

Even in these tough economic times we are better off than most people in the world. We can still give and giving is what will bring us back from the brink. It is what it is.

Larry plugs Gupta

Flipping through mindless television in my nightly vegetative solitude I stumbled upon Larry King doing his shtick about the audacity of greedy AIG executives. Three fourths of the way into the show he takes a break to announce to the world that Dr. Sanjay Gupta (one of the other CNN super anchors) had become a father for the third time. Soon the fresh baby's picture was splashed across the screen and the doctor was on the phone giving us the medical details. I could almost hear the viewing audience go "aaahhhh". In the two minutes that followed the doctor told us that this was his third daughter. He did not know "if this was meant to be a punishment or a reward". While he had delivered his second daughter he did not perform the delivery this time. Despite his hectic schedule we learned he had been a good husband being present for every ultrasound except one. Then we found out that he was present in the OR for all his children's deliveries and this time the journalist in him had him flip the camera on in one hand while the other cut the umbilical chord. Interrupted by Larry he spared us the remaining details and we all found out what a stand up father, husband and doctor Sanjay Gupta really is.

Did we really need to know all this? Do we really care? He is not exactly a family friend, he is just a face on TV. He may be a dashing young accomplished surgeon with an angular chin, "ethnic" and articulate, but at the end of the day he is just another TV reporter, a ruse for a journalist, trying to transform himself into a celebrity by virtue of being on TV. And here was CNN taking part in that very process by shoving his personal life into our face.

There was a time when journalism was about the story and not the person bringing us the story. But with the advent of the Diane Sawyers and Barbra Walters TV journalism has become as much about the face as the story. The cult of personality of TV reporters has become an acceptable aspect of TV news reporting. The respective networks that these personalities represent market them as faces of authenticity and integrity. If it is coming from the mouth of a Blitzer or a Brokow then the news has a certain element of gravitas, and therefore must be credible. If not it would be just drivel. And hence that cult of personality has to be shaped through promo spots and having absurd names for news programs like AC 360º. News has to be delivered in a constant state of climax, otherwise the 30 second sound byte would be lost in the air waves of an infinite TV universe.

So while TV networks conspire in creating the cult of personality for their anchormen and women, one should be aware that they are playing the role of the paparazzi in a surreptitious way. Thus the anchors walk a dangerous line of potentially falling victim to their own personality. There is only six degrees of separation between CNN, Fox News, ABC News and TMZ.

The difference being Larry King will not take a break to reveal to the world if Dr. Sanjay Gupta were to be involved in a child custody battle or an extra marital affair.

It is what it is.

Food for thought

GENETICS LOADS THE GUN
AND THE ENVIRONMENT PULLS THE TRIGGER.

Not my words, heard it on the radio in a discussion about who lives, how long and in what state.

Made perfect sense.

We all live in a polluted world breathing lethal chemicals and digesting mercury without our knowledge. But every one responds differently to the pollutants based on their genetic make up. And that decides what diseases one would be prone to contract or develop in the course of ones life span. It is not just about the toxins that we come in physical contact with, but also ones mental state . People with high stress and discomfort will develop certain diseases in comparison to people who live like monks. It is what it is.

The Oscar Orgy

This evening millions around the world will turn on their television sets to watch a red carpet orgy "Live". An annual showcase of pomp and pageantry that has become a global event purely because of the might of the American media to "shove it down" through the air waves. While movies and people who make them are pitted against each other and crowned in a run off, it is hard to ignore that the Oscars are primarily about American cinema and films made in the English language, overwhelmingly by a white community. The token black actor or the occasional surprise and the foreign film category attempt to give it an international flavor, but in no sense of the word is it an international affair. The only thing that makes it global is the viewing audience. At the end of the day the event is merely a network TV show with premium advertising, where you get to see your favorite actors outside of their screen persona, showing of their beautiful made up faces and clothes, like gods and goddesses descended from the heavens.

This year “Slumdog Millionaire” attempts to add international flavor to the Oscars even though it’s a British production with some Indian talent lucky to be nominated. Most often the majority of the awards are shared between the Americans, the British and recently the Australians.

The great American actor George C. Scott was nominated twice and won it once for his role as the war general Patton. He never attended the gala and declined to accept the award as he felt the whole process forced actors to become stars and the ceremony was little more than a "meat parade." He found the whole notion of pitting actors against each other to proclaim one a winner, absurd and obscene. He famously said "the ceremonies are a two-hour meat parade, a public display with contrived suspense for economic reasons." Unlike Marlon Brando who declined to accept the award for political reasons, George C. Scott had strong personal convictions about the hoopla and rightly so. But then he was George C. Scott a titan in his own right.

The Oscar podium provides a great forum for people to voice their opinion about what’s wrong with the world. But seldom do you find people taking advantage of that. For most people the award is a badge that furthers their career, so movie trailers can use the term “Academy Award Winner/Nominated” to sell their movies.

I have been guilty of watching the Oscar orgy many times. Partly because I am a filmmaker and have been a movie buff all my life. At the same time I am a documentary filmmaker and have always felt discriminated and am happy to have a documentary category at the Oscars. Even so like many in the biz and outside the biz I dream of making a feature film one day. Ironically the pain and glory of working with actors and telling a fictional story is rewarded more in the culture we live in. For all the criticism I would not mind having gold on my mantle someday.

At the back of my mind, I understand and am aware of the power of movie stars and the celebrity meat culture that poisons our world and pushes its way into our subconscious. Like many who live in a TV/internet infested world, I am a victim of this media incursion. At the same time I talk about movies all the time with great passion. Even though I find the cult of celebrity misplaced in the world we live in, most probably I will be watching the ceremony tonight rooting for “Slumdog Millionaire” and A.R.Rahman. It is what it is.

Dead BODIES

“Bodies…The Exhibition” has become America’s biggest museum sensation and has been playing to full houses across the nation. The exhibition is a traveling spectacle of 20 real cadavers and more than 250 body parts, exhibited in a dark, black and gray sleekly lit display spanning eight large rooms. The show is produced by Premier Exhibitions Inc., an Atlanta-based company which specializes in creating mega-million dollar grossing exhibitions. The company is listed on the NASDAQ offering its investors handsome dividends.

Unlike its earlier exhibition like “Titanic”, “Bodies” has stirred debate just about everywhere it has shown for using unidentified bodies of Chinese citizens, who apparently did not document their consent for use of their remains. The bodies were allegedly obtained from the Dalian Medical University in China and were unclaimed bodies from their morgue.

From Miami to New York City this exhibition has educated, enthralled, fascinated and repulsed thousands. It has been showing in New York City since 2005, held over by popular demand. The New York exhibit has recorded remarkable ticket sales. With tickets priced at $25 per person, more than the admission fees charged by the MOMA and The Met, it has become one of the most popular destinations on the New York cultural scene. It has been showing at the South Street Seaport location a two minute walk from my office. For months I had been contemplating making a visit with my daughter but some how never managed just out of concern that it might repulse us. Recently a relative of mine visiting from Canada showed great interest in seeing the exhibit, so I finally caved in. Even though my wife had some valid arguments as to why we should not go, I decided that I could not judge something informed only with what others have written or said. I had to see it for myself to determine whether it was controversial enough to warrant disdain.

As we entered the first room, a big sign screamed at us saying, PHOTOGRAPHY STRICTLY PROHIBITED. There were people in uniform making sure you did not use even your cell phone to take any pictures. This prohibition seemed a bit excessive to me. These were after all dead bodies, not ancient artifacts. The first room was dedicated to the muscular system. A skinless figure greeted me with his muscles flying out of his legs and arms. He was postured as though he was running a race and his muscles were separated as though they were flying like ribbons attached to his limbs. It looked like a sculpture at first glance, a work of art. There were others displayed in various sporting postures, swinging a baseball bat and holding a football. There were other smaller exhibits in the room, body parts enclosed in glass cases. On first glance it was fascinating to see the human body in this form. Exposed, with out skin, fat, muscles and veins- all revealed. It reminded me of a large piece of meat from an Asian village market hanging from a hook, but without the smell and the presence of flies on flesh. It was frozen in time and space. You could not help but wonder how it could have been preserved in this manner.

I found out that the preservation process is called Plastination. It involves carefully dissecting the skin from the human body, then immersing it in various chemicals and replacing all that is water in the body by a silicone rubber which effectively solidifies the body parts. It sounded simple but I am sure the process required great skill. From afar the figures looked dry, rubbery and extremely fragile. The preservation process, we were told, was painstaking work and it took approximately fifteen hundred hours to create a single specimen. The result was body parts mostly preserved in all their detail, texture and color.

I was fascinated and consumed by the science behind this exhibition until my eyes met the eyes of an anonymous body. In the eyes I could see an expression. Behind the eyes was a brain visible in all its intricate detail, and I could not stop to imagine that this person was once a living breathing creature with hopes and dreams and now, without his knowledge, was a skinless model in a room surrounded by strangers looking at him through his nakedness. This was a very disconcerting and uncomfortable feeling as I was a member of that crowd as well.

My eight year old, innocent and virgin in her thinking, devoid of the baggage of adults, was enjoying the museum with out any blinders or deep philosophical leanings. For her, it did not matter if the bodies were real or not. She was being a sponge, inquisitive and enamored by what she was seeing, completely fascinated by the detail and the textures. For her it was no different from going to the Museum of Natural History where stuffed African Elephants and other exotic animals were routinely displayed in still life. The art of taxidermy had finally come to the human specimen. But this was a reverse process. The shell was gone and the insides were frozen in time. These bodies were over 90% real and original in composition. The skin was skinned and the anatomy was the exhibit. Henry Gray’s classic book on the human anatomy was on view in three dimension. I am sure he would have been stunned by this exhibit.

As we walked through the endocrine system, nervous system, respiratory system, things began to get more and more complex. The human organs were displayed in every cross section possible. The intricate web of the human nervous system was suspended in a glass tank separated from skin, muscle and bone. Diseased lungs were displayed next to healthy ones. A smoker’s lung charred black by nicotine and other noxious substances lay there scaring the smoking audience. An obese body was displayed with yellow fat hanging from every side. That was a rare specimen. An obese Chinese is hard to come by. I had never seen one in motion in my lifetime, and here he was frozen in time.

And then finally, I saw a female in the reproductive section. This exhibition was another place where you felt it was a man’s world we lived in. This lonely woman stood there exposing herself as the bearer of life and all that comes with it. The exhibition in one sense was telling me that this was the only reason the woman was made, to bare children. I could see why some feminists have had a problem with the exhibit. But later I would find there was an explanation for it. Next to the woman, displayed in small glass containers were the different stages of the human fetus. My eight-year-old found this fascinating and disgusting at the same time, especially because her baby sister had been born only a few months ago and she was saddened to see babies lying there still and lifeless. We had to leave that room in a hurry.

Many interesting lesser known facts about the human body were displayed on the walls, on large placards. They made interesting reading even for my young one.

By the time we reached the last room of the exhibit, I had had my fill of dead bodies and the finer aspects of the construction of the machine known as the human body. I still could not get over the fact that this exhibition was racially homogeneous. Thoughts about why these were only Chinese specimens and not any other, bothered me, especially because China has a deplorable human rights record and is a nation that sends more people to death as a program of punishment than any other in the world. The United States is not far behind in that statistic. So, I wondered why I did not see American specimens – black and white - in the exhibit.

At the end of the exhibit was a perky man sitting behind a table with a button on his shirt with the words “ASK ME”. He, I assumed, was the spokesperson for the exhibit and answered questions that remained unanswered for many, and I sure had my share. When I approached the table, I realized he was there to entertain the children who were passing through the museum with some fun facts. This was the table where you could actually touch and feel body parts. You were not allowed to touch those in the exhibit as they were delicately supported and suspended. The children were having fun asking questions and answering those posed by him, while squeezing body parts. My eight-year-old, who wants to be a doctor when she grows up, had quite an impressive set of question to ask the man while he offered her a liver, heart, spleen and a lung to clasp. After the children had their fill, then came my turn to ask him some questions.

The first logical question in my mind was the one which was bothering me a lot:

“Why Chinese? Why not some Americans and some others from around the world?”

He said it was easier to acquire specimens from China than anywhere else. And all the specimens were unclaimed bodies from a morgue. And there was some other connection between the person who had pioneered this technique of preserving bodies and China, which I could not entirely understand from his explanation. Then, he added, if there were Caucasians in the exhibit, the audience (predominantly Caucasian) would have had a hard time looking at the bodies. Even though the exhibit showed, that under the skin we are all the same, the fact that the specimens were all Chinese, defeated that very purpose.

“Why mostly men”?


He responded by saying that most often it is the men who are reckless and disregard their families, get drunk and get killed. The women, on the other hand, stay close to their children and are programmed to put their wellbeing last and their children’s first and the chances of them going missing and ending up unclaimed in a morgue are rare. That, I thought, was an interesting hypothesis offered by a man who certainly did not seem like a social scientist with a PhD. I had a feeling, however, that it was his own hypothesis and not the company line. But then again, it could have been a company line fed to him in anticipation of such questions being raised by the general public.

As I walked away from the museum with an unsettling feeling, I could not help but think of the countless times humans have desecrated the dead in pursuit of science, history, curiosity and sometimes pure entertainment. These have ranged from the “body snatchers” of the 19th century, who stole dead bodies from burial sites to meet the growing demands of the medical establishment of the time, to the unearthing of mummies from Pyramids in Egypt and South America to be exhibited in museums in the west. Together with the display of the preserved bodies of Lenin, Mao and Stalin in glass enclosures and the reality TV show on the National Geographic Channel called “The Mummy Road Show,” dead bodies have always played to the curiosity of the human mind. And, now with this exhibition, new ground has been broken as a result of technological breakthroughs and humankind’s ingenuity. The art of preserving flesh and bone had reached a new level. The unending quest for humans to deal with their own mortality pushes them to look at our insides closer, than ever before.

While all these questions knocked around in my brain, one aspect of the exhibition that continued to cause me great concern: the racial homogeneity. I could not ignore the fact that these bodies come from the world’s most populous country already supplying the West with a vast array of cheap consumer goods. Now, members of the Chinese populace have, themselves, become a low-cost source of bodies and body parts. Even if they were acquired through legal channels, there is considerable evidence that China’s repressive regime does not value the lives of its citizens. With a growing worldwide illegal trade in human organs emerging as a growing business, and with China on the forefront, no matter how good the exhibits are, it was hard for me to walk away from there emotionally unscathed. The pain was even sharper when I realized how heavily my pocketbook was hit to pay to see this show. I have to console myself by observing that it at least generated this essay, for which I am grateful.

This exhibition probably will never travel to China. If it does, it would be fascinating to record the reaction of a predominantly Chinese audience. So, no matter how spectacular human endeavors are worth in my dictionary of any achievement, creative or otherwise, they are always measured by the ethics that define them. Everyone walks by one’s own code and so, this exhibition could have been a fascinating journey of spectacle for many and also had a great deal of educative value for some. For me, it was a troubling observation of ourselves, and the complex world we live in.

With more than a million viewers having passed through it, the exhibition in New York has been extended indefinitely by popular demand. It is what it is.

Republic Day

It is the 26th of January. On this day India celebrates "Republic Day", marking the adoption of the constitution and the transition of India from a British Dominion to a republic. It is a day of great national pride. It is a national holiday and the country is awash in flags and all that symbolizes nationalism in the most overt way. Growing up as a boy in India in the 80's, what I remember most is waking up in the morning and turning on my Dyanora black and white TV (one of two brands sold in India in the 80's) to watch the live broadcast of the parade from Rajpath in Delhi. The muddy gray images of the crowds gathering on the bleachers in the cold Delhi winter waiting for the parade to begin are vivid in my mind. Then the presidential horse carriage gently drives down the majestic colonial road. The president descends and shakes hands with all the dignitaries and the celebrations begin. The whole event lasts for half the day with endless army, navy and air force battalions marching in unison and floats displaying India's vast cultural colorful diversity forming an impressive pageant.

Today marks the 60th anniversary of the Indian republic.The economic down turn and the terrorist attacks on Mumbai have not deterred the government from putting on an impressive show. Republic day is also the day the country shows off its military hardware. The tanks, the missiles, war planes and a plethora of killing machines are on grand display. This year the nuclear weapon carrying missile "Agni" was on display. The chief guest at this years celebration was the Kazakhstan President Nursultan Nazarbaye. A controversial leader who has been in power since 1990 and has constantly undermined democracy in his nation. A dictator hiding behind a suit.

As a child the images on television always instilled a sense of pride. I always dreamt of being on those bleachers one day taking in the foggy Delhi morning. Much like dreaming of attending the Olympic games or the Wimbledon. But now as an adult I find those dreams misplaced. Even though America is the largest supplier of weapons to the world, the public display of military hardware is always shunned. A double standard, effectively managed for the world and the nation. The last time a presidential candidate was seen wearing a helmet in a tank, it ended his career. I do not understand why India, which is a democratic secular nation feels the need to present itself in this manner. It seems like a vestige from the time when it was aligned with the Soviets. I always associate military parades with repressive regimes. India feels the need to show its neighbors once a year that it has the fire power, so shoot at your own risk. The age old deterrent theory.

The most ironic aspect of the Republic Day parade is that the majestic road that it marches down is flanked by a statue of Mahatma Gandhi on one end. In fact from where he stands, he gets a clear unobstructed view of all the weaponry. I wonder what he must be thinking as he sees a nuclear warhead pointed at him. It is what it is.

The Obama Factor

It was August, 15, 1992, I was speeding down an empty highway with a stranger at the wheel. All I can remember is a disorienting feeling looking down a dark highway lit by headlights and trying to have a conversation with the driver who was so gracious to give me a ride. We were driving through corn fields in the middle of Ohio. I had just got off a small plane at Toledo airport, and was being driven to a small town called Bowling Green. I was to start a graduate program in Mass Communication at the Bowling Green State University. This was the first time I had left my homeland, India, in search of change, I was 24.

The first few weeks at Bowling Green were extremely disorienting, foreign and stressful. While I settled down and dealt with my anxieties and inner demons, one thing I knew was certain, there was no turning back. I had come very far. I had two hundred dollars in my pocket and a promise of a scholarship and no return ticket. My parents had high hopes, they had mortgaged their house for this trip and the pressure was immense. There was no question of failure. Quitting was not an option.

For the first time in my life I was a foreigner in a foreign land. I was the "minority". I was one of the few people on campus whose skin color was not fair. Up until then I had grown up a part of the ruling class. The middle class educated Hindu. This new identity I had acquired made me grow up many fold and opened my eyes to the history of the American civil rights movement, and the sacrifice of Martin Luther King and all those who followed in his foot steps. With out them I would not be standing in America shoulder to shoulder.

For a campus town Bowling Green was unusually homogeneous. It was a small town with a mile long downtown surrounded by blue collar families. One night a couple of Indian friends and I were walking home from downtown. We saw a car drive by and saw something fly by and land on the grass next to us. It took us a moment to realize that someone had thrown an egg at us. We were shaken. A few days later, I was walking down main street and someone shouted out"Why don't you go back where you came from?". For a moment I could not understand what this young boy was trying to say. It did not take long to figure out what he meant. I was a victim of physical racism. I had never faced something of this nature ever before. Racism exists in India in the form of caste-ism, but as I had grown up in a city and belonged to the elite class, I was immunized. My parents made sure we were never subjected to it. Racism based on the color of ones skin is much more subtle in India as the shades are too many. Even though these were the only two racial epithets I ever faced, they did leave a deep scar. I could not bare to imagine what black America went through in the depths of segregation.

I met more people in Bowling Green who were nice, gracious, tolerant and understanding of me. Intolerance and ignorance can show its ugly face anywhere, but I truly believe it has become the exception than the norm in most parts of the country. At least there is a modicum of civility around race unless you are a black man driving down an interstate highway.

The phenomenon of Obama is being marked as a turning point in the ugly legacy of racism. It is truly an historical moment for many reasons, but in no way does it mean that racism has been banished. By the act of becoming president, Obama has given people of all races and origins the power to walk proudly with their head held high. By the nature of his progeny he has also asked us to have trust and faith in the humanity of all people. Today, I can walk into an upscale restaurant in Manhattan and expect to be treated like everybody else and not be judged by the color of my skin because Obama is president. I can make that argument in my mind, no matter what the reality is and feel good about myself. This is truly historical. America may not have turned the corner when it comes to race, but in its people's mind that corner is on the verge of being turned.

Tomorrow Obama becomes president. It also happens to be my birthday. I became a US citizen a few months ago. I had mixed feelings about it, but Obama's ascendancy gave me hope. I actually began to feel proud, and for the first time in my life made a campaign contribution to a political party and actually made phone calls for Obama. The alternative was just not acceptable to me.

And so we celebrate a change tomorrow. But I fear Obama's cult of personality is pushing its limits. He is being portrayed as "The Messiah" who is going to deliver us to the promised land. He is being compared to Martin Luther King and I am afraid that the bar is being set unreasonably high because of the historical nature of his presidency. If he falters, he runs the risk of being judged unfairly. Washington D.C. is a behemoth, and to move and shake it is going to be difficult. So let us treat him like one among us. A president is always a citizen first. He is a rock star lets not make him a rock god prematurely. He has the most difficult job at hand. Let us be fair and critical. That is what people do in a free country. It is what it is.