Recognition: an apology to Owen Jones

I am trying to imagine what it would be like to be LGBT and reeling from the news of the Orlando massacre – the worst mass shooting in the United States, with the overwhelming majority of those killed being Latina/o and Black members of the LGBT community. I think this is what Owen Jones was inviting us to do when he was part of a TV interview on Sky News, until he walked out. He gave up on an interviewer who failed to understand that really listening means using your imagination if you are taking time to understanding something.

My reading is that Owen was trying to tell the interviewer and fellow guest that this was a mass homophobic murder, the biggest since the Holocaust, in a long history of hatred and lethal violence towards LGBT people. The interviewer kept wanting to make comparisons with the ISIL terrorist attacks last year on Paris, implying they were identical. In both cases people – it doesn’t matter who, he said – were having a good time and were then murdered by Muslims. When the interviewer failed to see how insensitive he was being, Owen Jones told him he couldn’t understand because he wasn’t gay.

The interviewer probably failed to appreciate what Owen meant by this too, judging by his expression of ‘regret’ and failure to apologise later. He may have heard, “you can’t speak about this because you’re not gay – only gay people are feeling the pain.” But I did not hear Owen Jones like that at all. The interviewer would not have gone off on tangents about Paris if he had the experience of being gay and facing homophobic violence himself. Aside from the fact that the terrorist’s own father wrote that his son was homophobic and not motivated by religious ideology, this massacre was not about killing people because they were enjoying a night out. It was the targeting of a particular group – LGBT people – in a long history of lack of recognition, abuse, denial, imprisonment and and murder. You only have to look at twitter to witness the vile homophobia that persists in every country including our own. Citizens of our country are hated by homophobes for something that is integral to their identity.  LGBT people do not need to be reminded that violent homophobia is something they experience on a daily basis, so they would surely understand Orlando without a pause and perhaps have their grief for others mixed with painful memories of their own struggles.

Imagine being both gay and Muslim, contending with both that pain but also the Islamophobic backlash that this kind of massacre generates (Beydown and Mack write about this eloquently). If we don't use our imagination, and recognise the nature of evil, then how can it be challenged? I apologise, Owen Jones, that it took me a moment to see this hateful homophobic massacre for what it is.

Representation: how drama reveals everyday democracy

with Professor Zahir Ahmed

When thinking about what MPs do in their work, in this case representing those that elect them, some academics tend to list activities, construct categories and create a ranking of which task receives more time or attention. They are inclined to consider improvements based on the reform of structures, clarification of responsibilities (as if this was like any other job) with the creation of job descriptions or better information and training.

But if you consider the claim of elected politicians to ‘represent’ others, such an approach misses a critical point. Part of the rigour of anthropological inquiry it is continually ask what matters most; it can be political dramas that reveal this. We are alert to this in our research on democracy in Bangladesh.

Two weeks ago an MP in Narayanganj humiliated a Hindu head teacher for making comments against Islam. He forced the teacher to stand and squat holding his ears with his two hands (kane dhore uth bosh kora) until he was too tired to continue, and fell down. Only a Bengali can comprehend the severity of this punishment. The Daily Star (Bangladesh) editor Mahfuz Anam explains ‘Culturally, there cannot be a more humiliating act that one can be forced to perform in public…. This is what is done when we want to rob a person of all his sense of dignity and self-respect’, (DS, May 18, 2016). Even the most hardened of criminals has a right to the due process of law before being punished. And yet the MP meted out the cruellest punishment, claiming that he had to humiliate the teacher to "save his life", otherwise the mob would have killed him. Some Islamic groups in the local area came to the MP’s defence and demanded capital punishment for the teacher. But the story exploded on Facebook and Twitter, with 10,000s posting photos of themselves holding their ears and saying “sorry sir” in solidarity with the teacher. Young people formed human chains across the country in protest and students showed their anger by holding their ears on campuses.

This story illustrates the complexity of ‘representation’.  MPs claim to represent the interests of their constituents but in this drama this particular MP was hero to some and villain to others. Rather than representing interests as if they are homogeneous (as if they ever could be), he privileged the demands of a school committee, who wanted the teacher sacked, over those of the teacher (and by extension the Hindu community he belonged to), exacerbated divisions between communities in his constituency. Those MPs at the national level who kept silent in the face of this provocation were also encouraging societal divisions, standing by while a minority was being alienated. This should be a warning to politicians in Bangladesh. When democratic representation fails to at least aspire towards respect for diversity, then the risks of conflict will intensify.

When political scientists emphasise the idealized structural roles and duties of MPs, they can miss the symbolic and practical significances of stories, performance and disruptions. Crucially, when telling this story it becomes clear how it is inherently social embedded in everyday life of the constituents and MP relations with representation (or failure of representation) at its core. The story itself, and stories in general, can function as political tools, in this instance used to undermine the claims made by the teacher when challenging power and authority. So a question for us to ask is, how do MPs make choices between competing and conflicting interests within their constituency? How do they find out about them? How do we know what MPs are up to, who they are listening to and what choices they are making? Anthropology as a discipline has become good at seeing the significance of local events to wider patterns at the national level and finding out what is going on for different groups. It is well worth listening to the anthropologists in Bangladesh.


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