|
|
So what do the isolated poor have to offer, in a fast-moving global cyber-economy? The old answers were cheap hands and abundant natural resources. But those vestiges of post-colonialism create dependency, drain human potential, devastate the environment and cannot be sustained. And those sweatshop paychecks are only available in crowded, toxic third-world cities: the labor of the two billion disconnected who live in 600,000 remote villages is so far away that it's not even worth exploiting.
There is an unknown, unrealized asset of the disconnected that exists precisely because of their disconnectedness. It is priceless, unique, of universal value, and easily exchanged worldwide.
That asset of the disconnected is their voice, their vision, their intimate connection to tradition, to the earth, their families, community, their history, wisdom and legends: their culture. The more isolated a village, the more likely that it harbors music, artwork, poetry, traditional herbal knowledge, legends and ways of living that are of supreme value: real, authentic expressions of human life that have been lost in the connected noise of industrial culture.
In fact, the connected/disconnected dichotomy may be inverted: people in remote villages may, in some cases, be more connected to themselves, to their families, communities, to the earth, than people who live in the post-modern, wise and cynical media world, where every culture is recycled, fused with others, parodied and echoed in an endless attempt to create something novel. We in the developed world may have vital lessons to learn from traditional people, in terms of how and why to live as a human being.
Can these cultural expressions be recorded, organized in a digital package, presented by the people themselves in a living form to share with the world, without perverting their simplicity and originality? Can markets be created for these digital culture products that generate income for traditional people, to bring them the health, education, energy and communications services they need and close the great divides, and earn for them the tools of an independent future? Can this be done in a sensitive, decentralized way so that delicate traditions are not polluted in the process?
In Sarawak, Borneo, where this process is underway; a tribal leader explains:
“...in our race to modernize we must respect the ancient cultures and traditions of our peoples. We must not blindly follow that model of progress invented by European wealth; we must not forget that this wealth was bought at a very high price. The rich world suffers from so much stress, pollution, violence, poverty, and spiritual emptiness. The wealth of the indigenous communities lies not in money or commodities, but in community, tradition, and a sense of belonging to a special place (Earth Island Institute, 1997, p.3).”
There is a "cultural ecology" element to this idea as well. The diversities of human language, history, music, legend and image are just as important to protect as the physical ecology of ocean, atmosphere, earth, rainforest and river. As the developed world's McCulture becomes increasingly homogenized, the distinct, varied voices of the villages of Honduras, Tanzania, Jordan, New Mexico, Bangladesh and Mongolia will be seen as just as precious -- and just as vital to the survival of the earth -- as the redwood, the butterfly, the eagle, the whale, the hummingbird and the tiger.
During the course of colonial expansion and industrial development, the rich nations became rich at the expense of traditional culture. Old ways, binding us to one another and our surroundings, were thought to impede "progress," so they were cast aside. Now that the rich world has achieved material wealth, we faintly recognize what we abandoned, but cannot recover. We're drowning in a sea of riches, and starving from lack of a reason for it. An instinctive sense of meaning has been lost, a void that we barely understand, yet feel intensely. Could that sense of meaning be the most precious resource of the new century?
The traditional voices which retain that meaning and connection are endangered, just as much as the ozone layer and the harp seal. Oral traditions are fragile, like an ecosystem -- they depend on the continuous effort of fathers speaking to sons, of mothers speaking to daughters, of old people sharing honored history, and of young people growing up in respect for the wisdom of their village heritage.
These fragile links are easily fractured in remote communities. Cultures which took thousands of years to refine can vanish in a couple of generations if their young people stop believing in them. This is happening all over the world today, as young people in traditional communities are lured away to the bright lights of the megacities. Our generation could see a great spasm of cultural extinction, as priceless human legacies that reach back into pre-history vanish.
Can markets be created for digital culture products that generate income for traditional people? Can these cultural expressions be recorded, organized in a digital package, presented by the people themselves in a living form to share with the world, without perverting their originality? Could the resulting income be used to bring to remote villages the health, education, energy and communications services they need and close the great divides, and earn for them the tools of an independent future? Can this be done in a sensitive, decentralized way so that delicate traditions are not polluted in the process?
|
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
Paul Swider
This user has not written anything in his panorama profile yet.
|
Comments
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
