I wrote in my last column about Chinese history, because while we might not think about it, the Chinese do, and the way they view their history (specifically the ancient idea of China as a place that is unified culturally and politically) affects how they approach their future.
In this column, I'd like to discuss a more concrete example that expresses why it matters how we see our past and the past of others.
Think of Africa - the continent of one billion people and around 3,000 languages. What do you think of? Plenty of images will come to mind, but one in particular is almost guaranteed to appear - poverty. Whether it's the sad child in the World Vision commercials or the famine-stricken mascot of Live Aid, it's what we tend to see when we think of Africa. The Rwandan genocide, the Biafran war and the periodic reports about Somali pirates only reinforce the image of Africa as an enormous basket case.
Of course, African poverty is real and horrible. But what came before? In the popular imagination, the second most commonly-mentioned eras of African history is prehistory - i.e. the birth of homo sapiens.
So when most people think of Africa, all they see are the first humans and the worst dictators.
In general, of course, we have horrible memories for history or geography. Most people couldn't muster much more than a Bela Lugosi laugh at the mention of Transylvania (though it is a real place), couldn't locate Kyrgystan on a map, couldn't describe the geographic scope of the Sassanid empire. And why should we? There's no reason to have an exhaustive memory of every place on Earth and its history. But in the case of Africa, where we have a very clear (albeit inaccurate) image of its present, we should have a clearer image of its past, and of its complexity.
This point was made simply and brilliantly recently with a slick ad made for Radi-Aid, a fake charity. To the sound of an imploring, sickly sweet song, a variety of Africans sing about the horror of a Norwegian winter. We are told that "a lot of people aren't aware of what's going on there right now," and that "it's kind of just as bad as poverty, if you ask me," as images are shown of Norwegians flailing across icy streets, digging out six feet of snow, or sliding off the road.
Before the song itself starts, the ad's narrator tells us that "sunlight puts smiles on people's faces. People don't ignore starving people so why should we ignore cold people? Frostbite kills too." His command? "Africa. We need to make a difference in Norway. We need to collect our radiators, ship them over there, spread some warmth, spread some light and spread some smiles."
The message of the ad is brilliant. If this is all you saw of Norway, what would you think? Probably that winter defined Norway and that Norway needed help getting through its winter. Neither is true, of course, though Norway's harsh winters are a reality. Similarly, African poverty is real. But it doesn't define Africa. It's not monolithic, and, from a historical perspective, it didn't come out of nowhere.
More importantly, the ad is not saying that we should ignore child poverty (just as it is not saying that we should ignore Norwegian winters), but that focusing on poverty alone is insulting to the countless millions of Africans who live comfortable lives.
The campaign makes five simple requests: for fundraising not to be based on exploiting stereotypes, for better information about what is going on in the world, in schools, in TV and media, for the media to show respect and for aid to be based on real needs rather than good intentions.
In other words, don't treat poverty as something that defines Africa and doesn't have a history.
The trouble is that the history of a continent (especially one as diverse as Africa) is tough to learn, and tougher still to understand. No one should expect everyone who watches a World Vision ad to know everything about the past few millennia in Africa. But, as the ad suggests, we should at least be humble, and acknowledge that we really don't know Africa's history. We should also get a more accurate picture of its present, and understand that there's far more to any place than poverty.
Of course, we as a culture can also do the opposite - we can look at a culture's past without considering its present. I'm thinking here of the Mayans, and all this talk about what's going to happen on Dec. 21. Leaving aside the fact the date seems to have had no special meaning, it's bizarre to think we speak of the Mayans as an ancient culture when there are plenty of Mayans still alive, speaking the same languages they spoke, albeit changed by time, hundreds of years ago.
Mayans themselves have come forward, in Guatemala for example, to protest the doomsday predictions as insulting to their culture and just plain wrong. But no one seems to be listening. The Maya, in popular imagination, disappeared hundreds of years ago and the eschatological imbeciles won't have it any other way.
As always with these issues, it's easier to understand if we imagined it was done to us. Imagine if every time someone thought of Canada, it was in an ad for a lumberjack charity. How would the Vancouver film industry, or Bay Street lawyers, feel if our country was represented by hockey players alone?
