The question could be interpreted literally and answered accordingly, which in my case would be Sweden, as that is where I was born. This usually doesn’t satisfy the questioner though.

Or I could “play along” and, in my case, say Iran but that isn’t totally the truth either, as I haven’t ever even been there.

What complicates the matter are the indirect implications of my answer. It’s usually not a matter of where I literally came from, but more a question of ethnic origins, and/or perhaps even cultural identity. What people are more interested in is knowing what I identify myself as, which is understandable. The problem occurs when people put me in a “file” depending on what I answer.

Regardless of the benefits or drawbacks of the present-day global economy, this way of thinking is out-of-date, and I know more and more (young?) people are liberating themselves from it. The days when most people strictly belonged to one nationality and one culture are history.

With people moving across borders and continents more and more, generations are arising where one has had the benefit of experiencing so many different cultures that it is impossible to identify with just one of them. Being a mix of several cultures — hopefully taking the best of each — and realizing that people across the world have more in common than the opposite, will make people see themselves less as belonging to a certain nationality, and more as world citizens.

This concept has been beautifully expressed in the Baha’i-writings, revealed almost 150 years ago:

That one indeed is a man who, today, dedicateth himself to the service of the entire human race. The Great Being saith: Blessed and happy is he that ariseth to promote the best interests of the peoples and kindreds of the earth. In another passage He hath proclaimed: It is not for him to pride himself who loveth his own country, but rather for him who loveth the whole world. The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens.

(Baha’u'llah, Tablets of Baha’u'llah, p. 167)

I’m not so bothered by people asking me where I come from as it may seem. I just hope that I’m not sorted into a file of a “typical Persian” (whatever that is), but rather a person whose identity has been formed by the experiences I’ve been through, may it be Persian, Swedish or simply… a world citizen.

A recent article published in the New York Times tells the story of Luang Prabang, a Laotian town whose idyll has been shattered in the past decade. Since its selection as a Unesco World Heritage Site in 1995, camera-toting tourists have flocked to town, with its daily procession of Buddhist monks and its centuries-old architecture. With the tourist boom, pizza parlors, bars, and even day spas have sprouted alongside the quaint narrow streets and traditional structures. Jobs and wealth have emerged as a result: those same monks, donned in their bright orange robes, abandon their monastic lives to cash in on the tourism industry.

Despite the economic upturn, many ask: is it worth it?

Laurent A. Rampon, the director of Luang Prabang’s cultural preservation office, sees it this way:

The paradox is that Unesco gives out the Heritage Site label partly to reduce poverty, but reducing poverty is reducing heritage. If you want to preserve heritage, you must keep poverty.

Though the development-versus-culture debate has been seen as a twenty-first century phenomenon, I’ll let you in on a little-known fact: it’s actually raged for centuries.

Back in nineteenth-century Persia, modernization was the issue of the moment. Many Persians yearned for the kinds of prosperity and advancement that Europe and neighbouring Russia enjoyed, not only because of their pride, but for their own self-preservation. With the humiliating defeat of the Persian army at the hands of the Russian forces during the Russo-Persian wars, it became clear that Persia needed to modernize in order to survive.

Yet, for all those pro-modernizers that passionately appealed to the Persian people and rulers to advance the cause of modernization, there were those who clung to fears of Westernization. Would Persia lose its culture at the hands of modernization? The clergy likewise feared a loss of power and influence, with the development of judicial and educational institutions that threatened their sway over the populace.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá addressed this question in 1875 in His scintillating treatise, The Secret of Divine Civilization. In it, He outlines the necessity of modernization and its requisite components: democratic governance, a just rule of law, scientific and technological advancements, human rights, universal education, and economic development.

But He similarly rejects the notion of modernization as synonymous with Westernization. It is possible, He asserts, to glean those aspects of modern society that will contribute to the advancement of a nation’s people without losing those unique aspects of one’s culture. He states:

Those who maintain that these modern concepts apply only to other countries and are irrelevant in Iran, that they do not satisfy her requirements or suit her way of life, disregard the fact that other nations were once as we are now…. Would the extension of education, the development of useful arts and sciences, the promotion of industry and technology, be harmful things? For such endeavor lifts the individual within the mass and raises him out of the depths of ignorance to the highest reaches of knowledge and human excellence. Would the setting up of just legislation, in accord with the Divine laws which guarantee the happiness of society and protect the rights of all mankind and are an impregnable proof against assault — would such laws, insuring the integrity of the members of society and their equality before the law, inhibit their prosperity and success?

(Abdu’l-Bahá, The Secret of Divine Civilization, p. 13-14)

So when Rampon claimed, in the article, that cultural heritage can only be preserved by maintaining poverty, it first made me angry, but then it made me think. Those opponents of globalization loathe so-called development because of its perceived destruction of culture, while its advocates maintain that it’s the price to be paid for increased global wealth, at any expense.

But what of a middle ground? In part two, I’ll explore the idea of a middle ground, and the Baha’i model of modernity.

“If you want to preserve heritage, you must keep poverty.”

This was the claim of Laurent A. Rampon, director of the cultural preservation in Luang Prabang, Laos, in response to the city’s cultural erosion at the hands of tourist influx.

In my last post, I touched on the debate surrounding modernization. I presented both sides: that globalization’s opponents are wary of “development” because of its effects on culture, while its advocates maintain that it’s the price to be paid to bring nations out of poverty.

But, is there a middle ground? Can’t we argue that poverty, along with certain harmful traditions (among which are those that degrade women, such as the ever-contentious practice of female genital mutilation) are what prevent human advancement? Can we not argue that such traditions as slavery are likewise “cultural heritages” that needed to be abolished? Bahá’u'lláh counsels, in His Hidden Words:

Noble I made thee, wherewith dost thou abase thyself?

And similarly, would it be wrong to suggest that modernization need not equal the “Westoxification” that many see as stripping nations of their culture? That prosperity can result sans McDonald’s, The Gap, and Wal-Mart on every street corner, without the blossoming of mini-malls and homogenized suburbia? Are capitalism and socialism mutually exclusive, or can the “invisible hand,” as suggested by Adam Smith, be guided to lessen the wealth-poverty gap?

Bahá’u'lláh, the Prophet-Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, has revealed that the unification of humankind is a necessary and inevitable end to which we are working, whether we realize it or not. This vision, in turn, necessitates, and works toward, economic equality—for how are communities steeped in poverty able to effectively and equitably participate in the global arena?

This process of modernization and development is a slow and painful one, to be sure. But if we examine the history of humankind, we realize that out of disintegration comes integration. The growth pains are a painful but necessary part of humanity’s evolution. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá clarifies this concept another work, Some Answered Questions:

All beings, whether large or small, were created perfect and complete from the first, but their perfections appear in them by degrees. The organization of God is one; the evolution of existence is one; the divine system is one. … When you consider this universal system, you see that there is not one of the beings which at its coming into existence has reached the limit of perfection. No, they gradually grow and develop, and then attain the degree of perfection.

(‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Some Answered Questions, page 199)

Just as the messages of Prophets past were divinely ordained to unify family, tribe, and state, at the crux of Bahá’u’lláh’s message is the oneness of humankind. These processes were gradual, tumultuous, and often violent. If we look at today’s world, can we not argue that we are undertaking a similar, and far grander, project?

In this light, modernization, however flawed and sometimes harmful it may be in its present shape, is but a manifestation of this move toward oneness. As the world awakens and learns to cope with this reality, so too will the phenomenon of modernization and globalization begin to take on a more mature and culturally conscious form.

This is where the real story of the film begins. Arriving in the U.S. never having seen electricity, never having taken a shower much less experienced running water, their plight is seemingly helpless. Indeed, were one to stop watching the film at this point, one would expect this film to proceed in the same vein as so many others: another supposed success story of the “undeveloped” finding “development”", the “have-nots” finding the keys to “prosperity”, the “less civilized” at long last discovering “civilization”. With these patterns of classification so deeply prevalent in society, no one can be surprised at their consequences, not only in the way they affect the nature of our interpersonal relationships with those perceived as outsiders, but also in the unnumbered prejudices, both overt and subtle, that arise as a result.

Watching the film, however, a different picture begins to emerge. The film’s protagonists, after the initial shock of being thrust into their new environment, proceed to evaluate the nature of the this life as compared to life in the refugee camp.

The perspective they provide is truly eye-opening. One of them wonders why, at Christmas time, so much emphasis is placed on Christmas trees and Santa Claus — to paraphrase his comments: “Where are these things mentioned in the Bible? Nobody can answer this question for me. Back in the camp, at Christmas we used to dance to celebrate. We would also reflect on the birth of Christ’s and think about how to improve ourselves.” Another, who found a job at a local supermarket, talks about a distressing incident where a lady was crying and everyone passed by without caring to ask her what was wrong. He reached out to her, as was the custom back home, and she took the opportunity to open up to him (much to his own surprise, it must be added). All of them speak of the sense of isolation that they feel living in a society where group culture is non-existent and neighbours hardly talk to each other.

Today, all the peoples of the world are indulging in self-interest and exert the utmost effort and endeavour to promote their own material interests. They are worshipping themselves and not the divine reality, nor the world of mankind. They seek diligently their own benefit and not the common weal. This is because they are captives of the world of nature and unaware of the divine teachings, of the bounty of the Kingdom and of the Sun of Truth.

(Abdu’l-Baha, Selections from the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, p. 103)

This film provides a striking demonstration of how the two dimensions of human existence, the material and the spiritual, should both be looked after in order to promote true human welfare. The lost boys of Sudan would never have achieved their dream of receiving a higher education were it not for the structural and material means afforded to them by moving to the United States. At the same time, by their simple yet moving commentary on the realities of life in the U.S. compared to back home, they display a maturity of insight that a purely secular system of schooling could never provide.

We must care for man’s two natures; for as the material man makes certain demands for food and raiment and if not looked after suffers, even so his spiritual reality suffers without care.

(Abdu’l-Baha, Divine Philosophy, p. 96)

Reflecting further, there are two pairs of themes that are at play here, which historically have given rise to failed or failing ideologies. These themes are touched on somewhat indirectly during the film, yet in a sense they encapsulate the context that the boys find themselves in. In the next part, I will identify these themes and try to examine them.

Meanwhile, I suggest renting this film and watching it — it’s well worth it.

Nevertheless, we observe a clash of two worlds. We see a demonstration of modern society’s “individual is king” ideology that tenaciously upholds individual rights and liberties, in this case the perceived right to safety. This right is a given, yet if it is established that the boys have not caused any harm and that they merely prefer walking in groups, should this factor not also be taken into consideration? One may also ask how much the group’s ethnic background had to do with the police decision, and so on and so forth, but this would be an entire discussion of it’s own! The key point here is that, even when dealing with notions of individual liberty, one should carefully weigh such rights against the principles of equity and moderation.

…Bahá’u'lláh “inculcates the principle of ‘moderation in all things’; declares that whatsoever, be it ‘liberty, civilization and the like’, ‘passeth beyond the limits of moderation’ must ‘exercise a pernicious influence upon men’…

(The Universal House of Justice, 1988 Dec 29, Individual Rights and Freedoms, p. 4)

Of course, moderation is also vital in ensuring that we resist the temptation to hop to the other end of the ideological spectrum, namely an excessive collectivist culture. Much has already been written about the “pernicious influence” of Communism in stifling the flame of individual creativity and dismissing the importance of religious faith. In an extract from “In The Quantum Self: A Revolutionary View of Human Nature and Consciousness Rooted in the New Physics”, Danah Zohar makes some compelling observations about such extremes, or “splits”, in our thinking:

The split between the individual and his relationships led on the one hand to an exaggerated individualism, to a selfish will to power and possession, and on the other to an enforced communitarianism like that of Marxism, which denied the meaning or importance of individuals at all while stressing the absolute primacy of relationship.

The split between culture and nature led both to relativism of all sorts — factual, moral, aesthetic and spiritual (value judgments) — and to dogma and extreme fundamentalism. There seemed no middle ground between the two extremes of saying that a given way of looking at things was only one of many contingent and relative ways of looking at them, or between saying there was only one, true and absolute way of looking at them. There seemed no way to say that we were not either wholly creatures of culture, and therefore unrooted in any established facts, or wholly creatures of nature (of the given), with no flexibility or room for creative development.

In the West, these dichotomies robbed our individuality of its context and landed us in the deepest isolation, leading to narcissism. We were cut off from an outer confirmation of our inner life, leading to nihilism, and denied the confirmation of our ideas, leaving us with relativism and subjectivism. Each nourished a form of alienation, and the sum total of this alienation is the curse of modernism.

Zohar’s conclusions on these fragmented approaches to understanding human reality are echoed in the Baha’i Writings. So, where do the Baha’is stand? It could be said that the Baha’i model lies at the confluence of several lines of thought; and while aspects of each are recognized and their worth acknowledged, none of them are accepted in isolation. For example, on the necessary relationship between the individual and the collective, Shoghi Effendi states:

We cannot segregate the human heart from the environment outside us and say that once one of these is reformed everything will be improved. Man is organic with the world. His inner life moulds the environment and is itself also deeply affected by it. The one acts upon the other and every abiding change in the life of man is the result of these mutual reactions.

(Compilations, The Compilation of Compilations vol. I, p. 84)

Similarly, in stressing the importance of both material as well as spiritual education, Abdu’l-Baha offers the perfect analogy of the lamp and the light during one of His talks in the United States:

Since my arrival in this country I find that material civilization has progressed greatly, that commerce has attained the utmost degree of expansion; arts, agriculture and all details of material civilization have reached the highest stage of perfection, but spiritual civilization has been left behind. Material civilization is like unto the lamp, while spiritual civilization is the light in that lamp. If the material and spiritual civilization become united, then we will have the light and the lamp together, and the outcome will be perfect. For material civilization is like unto a beautiful body, and spiritual civilization is like unto the spirit of life. If that wondrous spirit of life enters this beautiful body, the body will become a channel for the distribution and development of the perfections of humanity.

(Abdu’l-Baha, The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 11)

These passages only scratch the surface. Indeed, there is an enormous depth of knowledge in the Baha’i Writings in terms of gaining an appreciation of our role as individuals within society, on society’s effect on the individual, on the necessary duality of spiritual and material civilization.

The unease one feels when watching certain scenes in the film will hopefully force the viewer to question certain assumptions, leading to a deeper understanding of what it means to be human; an understanding that would harmonize rather than fragment, one that would accept that material existence is empty unless it is illumined by the light of the spirit, one that would acknowledge the totality of our existence both as creative individuals as well as vital actors in society.

He confessed waking up that morning in a contemplative mood, filled with profound thoughts about meaning and purpose – rather uncharacteristic of him, he added. But these thoughts were not entirely random either. For one, he had observed his classmates devoting every waking hour to their studies, in an almost mechanistic way, without pausing to ask themselves why they were doing it. Was the lure of the job that might follow really worth all the fuss?

Life in London wasn’t as enriching as he had imagined either. Sure, it is pacey, hip and multicultural, but like most newcomers to the city – and even some who have been here for years – he had fallen prey to the paradox of big city life. That acute awareness of being surrounded by masses of people from all walks of life, yet at the same time feeling isolated and alone.

On this latter theme, we tossed some thoughts around for a while. What was it about life in the urban sprawl, or the structure of the education system, or the norms of acceptable dialogue and interaction that give rise to feeling like you may as well be the only living organism on this planet? Surely there are elements of the human condition that are being overlooked here, but what could they be? As I suggested that they might be related to conditions that uplift the human spirit, a palpable expression of acknowledgement appeared on his face, at which point the conversation somehow drifted to other themes.

Yet in my mind, the words “systematic” and “exclude” rang loud and clear, as I recalled the passage from Century of Light that seemed to encapsulate the moment :

…the pressure of a dogmatic materialism, claiming to be the voice of “science”, that seeks systematically to exclude from intellectual life all impulses arising from the spiritual level of human consciousness.

Applying this statement to most tertiary education systems, it is quite an indictment. And another passage from the Prosperity of Humankind (part of a larger critique on contemporary development theory, and well worth reading in its entirety):

For the vast majority of the world’s population, the idea that human nature has a spiritual dimension — indeed that its fundamental identity is spiritual — is a truth requiring no demonstration. It is a perception of reality that can be discovered in the earliest records of civilization and that has been cultivated for several millennia by every one of the great religious traditions of humanity’s past. Its enduring achievements in law, the fine arts, and the civilizing of human intercourse are what give substance and meaning to history. In one form or another its promptings are a daily influence in the lives of most people on earth and… the longings it awakens are both inextinguishable and incalculably potent.

These two passages, referring to the potent longings of the human spirit, help to explain why strictly rational approaches to development would alone fail to yield the inner satisfaction sought by every soul. We might imagine, for example, that putting people of different cultures within close vicinity of one another (the so-called “melting pot”) will magically lead to people holding hands and singing together.

Unfortunately, it’s not so straightforward. This year, the Scottish Interfaith Council produced a document entitled Values in Harmony, containing representations from 10 major Religion and Belief communities, including the Baha’i Faith. In it, one finds this striking quote from Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks:

Multiculturalism has run its course, and has not led to integration but segregation. It has allowed groups to live separately with no incentive to integrate…Culture is fragmenting into non-communicating systems of belief in which civil discourse ends and reasoned argument becomes impossible.

While multiculturalism has helped to weaken age-old prejudices and contributed to a greater sense that we are a single human race, I can also see where Rabbi Sacks is coming from. How will the motivation arise to genuinely reach out and integrate with other cultures, if not driven by an inner belief system that encourages it? And how nice would it be if more welcoming neighbourhood communities started to spring up across our cities as a result?

As I come full circle to my flatmate’s sentiments on that day, I am left with two conclusions:

• That at some point, every individual will experience those inner promptings that lead to the question “why?” and we can scarcely predict when that point will be.
• That to be an effective antidote to alienation in the big city, multiculturalism has to be infused with a big dose of spirit…