|
Going
Beyond Nation and the East-West Divide
Palmira
Brummett (History) &
Lydia Pulsipher (Geography),
U. of Tennessee
In spring 2000 we devised a course called "Mapping
Identity: The History and Geography of Nation," an
interdisciplinary course in history and geography. Two of
our objectives were to examine 1) the ways in which the
nation state did and did not map identity, and 2) colonial
and post-colonial constructions of identity and how those
constructions did and did not rely on the nation as a primary
frame. We are both engaged in the writing of college texts
for world history and world geography and are thus interested
in alternatives to the nation-state as a primary mode for
dividing the globe.
INTRODUCTION:
In this presentation, we propose to illustrate two alternatives
to the nation-state as the primary unit of historical and
geographic analysis: 1) the island as focus of the decolonization
paradigm - comparing the Caribbean and parts of island Southeast
Asia; 2) the city-state revisited, using Goa and Dubrovnik
as two examples of the enduring city-state which resists
integration into the nation. Both cases are comparative
and violate assumptions about the "East-West"
divide. Both illustrate the limitations in space and imagination
of the nation-state. The island, by its very nature (size,
boundedness, isolation) has an enduring geographical identity
that can aid, resist, or confound the constraints of national
identity. The city-state, approximates the condition of
an island in its small size, boundedness, and separate identity.
In the Eastern Caribbean, European incursions virtually
eliminated native populations. "Indigenous peoples"
are, instead, the descendants of imported slaves and indentured
servants as well as remnants of European settlers.
Here, because of a wide array of European colonizing powers
(Spain, Britain, France, the Netherlands, Denmark and the
United States), national identity gets intertwined with
the former (or continuing) metropolitan country and with
emerging well-springs of identity, such as nascent regional
economic unity, resistance to the remaining hegemonies of
Europe and the U.S., and new opportunities to identify with
other post-colonial societies across the globe. In Southeast
Asia (specifically Indonesia), there is less sense of we
are all in this predicament together. European hegemony
was countered by strong but varied indigenous traditions
and by other outside influences, such as Chinese merchants,
and several different cultural iterations of Islam. The
modern result is both a heightened sense of localized identities
and less sense than in the Caribbean of commonality with
global post-colonial societies.
Dubrovnik and Goa stand as enduring examples of the autonomous
city-state with their own "glorious" histories
of sub-regional rule and resistance to the attempts of colonial
powers (modern and pre-modern) to subordinate them. These
city-states were ultimately integrated into the nation-states
of Croatia and India, but continue to insist on their historically
defined identities as separate, independent, and "different."
Attempts to colonize these identities are challenged by
the city-states own telling of history which emphasizes
spirit, toughness, and resistance to homogenization. Goans
today refer to themselves as "Goans" and use the
term "Indians" for outsiders, often in a hostile
sense to refer to those who are "coming in and taking
over."
Our two sets of cases are linked in a variety of specific
ways. One factor is the tenacious efforts of colonial powers
(Portugal in Goa and East Timor, the Dutch in Indonesia
after World War II, the French in present-day Martinique
and Guadeloupe, and Britain in volcano-threatened Montserrat)
to dominate colonies long after the imperial era has ended.1 Another is the geographic
isolation of individual islands within the archipelagos
of the Eastern Caribbean and Indonesia and of Goa and Dubrovnik,
as islands attached to mainlands, which approximates them
to other island examples. A third factor is the articulation
of identities as defined by connections to the sea. A fourth
factor is that tourism is already or soon will be a major
source of income in these places, leaving them with the
contradictory needs to appear safe destinations while trying
to construct identities that counter histories of control
from outside.
THE CLASS:
In the classical Western curriculum, history and geography
were not treated as separate and distinct fields in the
ways they are today. We wanted to combine the approaches
of these two disciplines, for ourselves and for our students;
and we wanted to employ maps as a vehicle for understanding
the intersections of history and geography and the nature
of identity formation. Our first step, then, was to ask
our students to each draw a map of a favorite childhood
site and discuss its various intellectual and spatial dimensions.
This exercise immediately raises the issues of spatial accuracy,
memory, and selectivity. Then we brought in a series of
maps to discuss the ways in which the various images and
texts imagined space, peoples, relationships, and identities.
We discussed the authority of maps and how that authority
is taken for granted and rarely challenged.2 We also wanted our students to think
about the ways in which maps change over time, the implications
of those changes, and the ways in which maps represent culturally
determined ways of seeing.
After these preliminary discussions we read a series of
texts that address conceptions of land, space, nationalism,
and imperialism, including parts of Lewis and Wigen, The
Myth of Continents, and Benedict Andersons Imagined
Communities, Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism,
particularly its section on maps, census, and museums.3
We discussed various definitions of nation and the ways
in which nations come to be bounded, intellectually, militarily,
economically, and politically. Our students were intrigued
by depictions of space which placed south at the top,
and by conceptions of space that did not assume a natural
division between East and West (with concomitant assumptions
about modern and Christian vs. Third World and non-Christian.
In the course of these exercises the students began to see
how limited and how modern the notion of nation state
is. We, on the other hand, learned how surprisingly persuaded
our students are of their own freedom to choose their
identities. We then analyzed case studies focusing on the
Balkans (particularly Kosovo), the Middle East (particularly
Israel/Palestine), the Caribbean, and Southeast Asia, emphasizing
the ways in which geography, colonial context, and ethnicity
(defined in terms of language, culture, race, and history)
condition identity formation.4
WHAT GOOD IS AN ISLAND
Oceanic islands are a special category of place, forming
as they do a compact ecological package surrounded by water.
Although the actual edges of islands are less precise than
immediately apparent, in that the surrounding ocean interacts
ecologically with them and politically islands can claim
wide circles of the ocean around them, still their physical
isolation from other land places, usually leaves them with
a discrete biological, cultural, and often political identity.
Archipelagos are also a special category of place, because,
being made up of a chain of islands, they are often perceived
from a distance as a unit. Yet upon closer inspection
the island parts turn out to be very distinct places physically
and culturally that dont necessarily fit together.5
The Archipelagos of the Eastern Caribbean and Indonesia:
Our island examples are drawn from the Eastern Caribbean
and Indonesia in Southeast Asia. The Eastern Caribbean,
an archipelago that stretches from Puerto Rico to Trinidad
near the South American coast, was once a set of European
colonies belonging to Britain, the Netherlands, and France
(see Map 1). Today these islands are not united politically,
but are working toward economic integration. Future
political union is a possibility not often discussed.6 Relationships between the islands are cordial
and are beginning to bridge old cultural barriers imposed
by the colonial powers. There is no obvious core to this
region, no one city that is thought of as the heart. When
people go shopping for big items, they go to Miami.
Some islands in the chain are functionally in a periphery
imposed by their small size or extreme spatial isolation.
Indonesia, also an archipelago stretching in a wide arch
around the southern reaches of the South China Sea, was
united (with the exception of East Timor) under a series
of European colonial administrations and then at mid-twentieth
century became a strong political state, assertively united
by an imposed national mythology. The strong state
has served the economic and political aims of the core in
Java, which imposes a sort of internal neo-colonialism on
the periphery, from which it extracts natural resources
and agricultural products for export, and to which it sends
surplus population. While the Eastern Caribbean, made up
of many tiny nation states and dependent territories, appears
to be finding many reasons for closer association, Indonesia,
for now still a nation state, shows signs of fracturing
along regional, economic, and ethnic/religious lines.7
How the Eastern Caribbean and Indonesia Are and Are Not
Comparable:
What they share: During the several centuries of
European colonialism experienced by the two sets of islands,
their physical environments were turned to providing surplus
wealth for the benefit of distant mother countries. Their
own economies and social institutions were suppressed and
modified to serve the needs of the colonial enterprise,
the cultural make-up of their populations was drastically
modified. Actual population numbers first slumped
and then grew rapidly after mid-20th century.
Meanwhile, although Europeans inadvertently encouraged the
rise of cultural and national identity by modeling such
behavior themselves, they squelched any such efforts in
their colonies. Until mid-twentieth century Europeans
depicted the goals of political independence, national identity
and economic viability as beyond the reach of these colonized
island populations.
How they are different: Changes in the Eastern Caribbean
brought on by European colonialism were abrupt. Within 100
years of the first European contact (i.e., by 1600), Caribbean
native people had died out, due to European instigated violence
and introduced diseases.8
With them died indigenous ways of life, language, knowledge
about the environment, and identity with place. New
people were imported from Europe, Africa, and Asia to serve
the personnel needs of the plantation economies established
by Europeans. These disparate Caribbean populations, much
more numerous than native people had been, had to adjust
to one another and construct new ways of life, and strategies
for using an alien environment all within the confines
of a slave plantation society.9
As a result, Caribbean landscapes underwent drastic changes.10
European colonization in the general vicinity of what is
now Indonesia, began in 1511, with the conquest of Malacca
by the Portuguese. But, until the 19th
century, European activities remained largely confined to
the spice trade along coastal zones. Most people in the
region continued to live according to their own customs
and to be governed by their indigenous rulers. Compared
to the Eastern Caribbean, the complex mosaic of native people
and landscapes in Indonesia were more slowly marshaled to
serve the needs of colonial masters; indigenous ways survived
and landscape change proceeded more slowly. Trade, not territory,
was the primary objective of the Dutch (the Dutch replaced
the Portuguese as dominant colonizers by the 1640s). Plantations
and other extractive economies were introduced later than
in the Eastern Caribbean.11 .
By the mid-nineteenth century in the Eastern Caribbean most
people were impoverished ex-slaves with few rights to land
and no unifying cultural networks. Depending on local circumstances,
they were either left to their own devices on worn out plantation
land, or forced to work in an obsolete plantation economy
at exceedingly low wages.12 In Indonesia, on the other hand,
the majority remained small farmers still occupying ancestral
lands. Though they were now forced to produce tradable crops
and sell them at fixed prices to the British (who took over
temporarily from the Dutch in the early 19th
century), they remained more autonomous and prosperous than
Caribbean people.13
The contrasting role of religion: Religion played
a supporting role in both island regions during the colonial
era, but was more obviously instrumental in affecting colonial
policy in Indonesia than in the Caribbean. In Indonesia
Islam was dominant and deeply entrenched at the time of
the European incursion. Efforts at Christianizing
met with only modest success (in places like Malacca, East
Timor and the Molucca Islands where there are many Roman
Catholics) primarily because of the strength of Islam.14
Today Islam is dominant and becoming more so, though Indonesia
is officially a secular state. Fundamentalist Muslims are
a powerful political force and assertively seek to define
national identity.
In the Caribbean, Roman Catholic, Anglican and several
Protestant sects were early established among the elite;
but there was little effort to Christianize slaves. Most
people of African descent became Christian when various
Protestant groups began to advocate the emancipation of
the slaves in the early 19th century. Christianity
is now important in the daily lives of most Caribbean people
and plays a role in social reform, education, and community
service. But, Christianity figures only vaguely in
definitions of nationhood. Freedom of religion is
thought of as a basic freedom; and fundamentalist sects
are not prominent politically.
Modern economic comparisons: In the present
era both island regions are undergoing neo-liberal economic
reforms but with somewhat different circumstances. Having
never found a satisfactory substitute for the plantation
economy, the Eastern Caribbean has cobbled together economies
based on export agriculture, maquiladora-like manufacturing,
information processing, migration-plus-remittances, and
tourism.15 Most islands rank either
in the high or high-medium categories on the United Nations
Human Development Index (UNHDI).16 Regional economic
cooperation is increasing and social connections between
the islands are constant and at a high level of congeniality.17
Indonesia, on the other hand, though long labeled an Asian
Tiger of development, with growing prosperity based mostly
on manufacturing and resource extraction, hit hard times
in the 1990s. Neo-liberal reforms aimed at reducing high
levels of debt resulted in shrinking employment, disinvestment,
widespread social unrest, and declining human well-being.
Never as prosperous in recent times as the Eastern Caribbean,
Indonesia now ranks in the low-medium category on the UNHDI
and its standing has declined significantly since 1996.18
20th Century Nation Building in the Two Archipelagos:
Paradoxically, in the Caribbean, which is officially made
up of many independent countries, pan-regional identity
is growing; and economic unity is an increasing reality.
Meanwhile the nation state of Indonesia, apparently united
economically and politically since the 1940s now shows signs
of coming apart along ethnic, religious, and spatial/political
lines.
Map 1. The Eastern Caribbean
In the Caribbean, WWII had an overall positive effect on
local identity. The war never physically touched the
region, but it did provide important opportunities for change.
Young people, mostly males, joined the Allied armed forces,
gaining travel experience, a new vision of change for their
home islands, and cash income that was sent home to fuel
the beginnings of modernization. After the war, many migrated
to work abroad, but most kept ties with home, sending substantial
remittances that funded important initial improvements in
standards of living at the family level. Others came home
to work for political and economic change.
The 1950s saw the end of the plantation era, in part because
labor organizers, many of them veterans, made it clear that
cheap labor could no longer be part of the plantation equation.
The opportunity to migrate was labors ace in the hole.
Then by the 1960s, the regions natural beauty and location
close to the huge wealthy continent of North America was
recognized by international tourism developers. Tourism
opened up another source of income (admittedly low-wage
employment of primarily women) for Eastern Caribbean families.
When, by 1962, the British West Indies Federation failed,
one by one most of the islands were given individual independence,
a process that was mostly complete by the 1980s. 19 France chose to make its former colonies
into parts of France (thus squelching local identity with
a seductive sort of neo-colonialism). The Netherlands, chose
a middling approach, allowing independence but investing
more in moral and economic support, and hence retaining
good will, but also, more control, than did Britain. The
education and social welfare infrastructure of the region
improved, and democracy is now the norm, with peaceful transitions
in government the rule. Informal democratic institutions
have proliferated in the form of civic and religious community
improvement organizations.
As European influence retreated, indigenous leadership took
over.20
As a result, regional consciousness is expanding. Assertive
nationalism is frowned upon. Island newspapers carry regional
news and warm commentary about other places in the region.
There is a constant exchange of personnel to fill bureaucratic
positions, and official and casual contact between former
British, Dutch, and French territories (and even with former
Spanish territories) is increasing. While the rhetoric of
stridency and militancy is occasionally heard, it is muted
and focused mostly on political issues internal to specific
islands, though pan-regional disagreements over economic
integration can reach heated levels. Legal systems
are formalized and scrutinized by the public and, in the
case of the few remaining colony-like territories, supervised,
by Britain, France or the Netherlands. In fact European
Union ideas on human rights are diffusing to the Eastern
Caribbean through the tiny remaining colonies.21 Seemingly the
only threat to civil society in the Eastern Caribbean at
the moment is the drug trade, which, passing from South
to North America, consistently tries to buy off island governments
and to use island spaces for drug trans-shipment.
In Indonesia, early nineteenth century revolts against the
Dutch colonizers have been identified as the precursors
of modern nationalist movements. More coherent efforts at
building national identity derive from the early 20th
century efforts at public education aimed at reviving knowledge
of and pride in traditional culture. Although anti-Dutch
sentiment was subtly fostered, the leaders of the education
movement believed that Western ideas would aid national
progress. Another movement that contributed to national
identity was the Islam Association, which had as one part
of its agenda, the protection of Indonesian merchants against
Chinese merchants and of Islam against proselytizing Christian
missionaries.22
The struggle by various Indonesian groups (with conflicting
aims) against the Dutch colonizers continued until World
War II when the Dutch were forced out by the invading Japanese.
Upon arrival in 1942, the Japanese suppressed political
movements for independence; but Japanese arrogance proved
to exceed that of the Dutch and this fueled the rise of
Sukarno, who after the end of the war achieved Indonesian
independence from the Dutch. He was ousted in a coup
detat by Suharto in 1967. Early in his career Sukarno
presented five postulates aimed at uniting the disparate
ethnic and religious groups of Indonesia. Eventually known
as Pancasila, or Unity out of Diversity, these five ideas
included a united Indonesia from Sumatra to Irian Jaya;
internationalism that promoted unity out of diversity at
the global scale; the idea of consent, that included within
it representative democracy; the principle of social justice,
meaning especially economic prosperity for all; and finally,
belief in God, but a God of individual choice, hence secularism
was the effect. Idealistic in concept Pancasila in
time was transformed into an overarching myth of multicultural
union used to squelch local resistance to such things as
unsustainable resource extraction by the state, forced re-settlement
of surplus urban populations on seized indigenous lands
on remote island groups, and the abridgement of human rights
of those who protested any actions of the state.23
Map 2: Political map of Indonesia: http://www.askasia.org/image/maps/indon1.htm
At present the multi-island nation of Indonesia is devolving
into a sets of islands seeking to manage their own affairs
and define themselves as quite separate from the present
nation. The motives for seceding from Indonesia range from
Islamic fundamentalism to the desire for local management
of resources, to initiatives that revive older ideas of
socialism. In Aceh in northern Sumatra, the language of
secession refers to myths of greatness predating European
incursions but not to the somewhat earlier introduction
of Islam by Arab traders. Separatist movements exist in
virtually all parts of the archipelago: Aceh, Sulawesi,
Mulucca, Iran Jaya, Timor, Lombok, and Kalimantan; but there
is also a critical discourse evolving that pursues the possibility
of a new unity through diversity.24
OLD CONCEPTS AND NEW: THE CITY STATE AND BEYOND
We are intrigued by the ways in which traditional modes
of organization and identity survive despite radical
alterations in political and economic conditions.25 In the twentieth century
the historical profession was forced to admit that its projections
of the end of the nation-state and nationalism in the face
of globalization were wrong. Nationalism, often aggressively
projected, is alive and well. But the nation state, imposed
so successfully (through force and education) on places
like the Middle East and Africa in the colonial period,
is only one in the series of layers through which peoples
have organized and identified themselves. If we look for
other layers, they are easy enough to find. In the breakup
of the state of Yugoslavia, the world media has imposed
upon the Balkans the incongruent identities of Serbs, Croats,
and Muslims, privileging religious over ethnic identity
for the latter group. This division posits that if Islam
is the religion, then ethnicity is secondary; if Christianity
is the religion, ethnicity is primary. Religion is an important
layer of identity by which rhetorics of difference are mobilized
in the Balkans. So is a more global level of humanitarianism.
But if we examine closely the history and geography of the
Balkan region, we can see another significant layer emerging,
a layer of identity with a long history, that of the city-state.
The city-state era of economic and political organization
created a powerful set of identities, linked to geographic
particularism, which have survived and flourished in the
modern era. Dubrovnik (formerly Ragusa) and Goa are classic
examples of the enduring city-state (Hong-Kong, Singapore
and Jerusalem are others).26
Both are areas where religious synthesis and religious boundary-drawing
have gone on side by side for many generations (Latin &
Slavic Christianity and Islam in the case of Dubrovnik and
Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam in Goa) within a framework
of significant, inter-regional commercial activity.
Dubrovnik:
The 1998 official guide to Dubrovnik highlights the citys
natural beauty. But this guide also presents Dubrovnik as
a timeless and enduring city-state, crafted by its location
on the sea, its history of independence, and its religion.27
History and autonomy (the citys motto is liberty before
gold) take precedence over existence as one small city
in a larger nation-state called Croatia. The guide calls
Dubrovnik the Croatian Athens, thus admitting its
attachment to a greater region and cultural identity while,
at the same time, conjuring up the classical model par excellence
of the city-state. Visiting Dubrovnik, one cannot help but
feel that it is the city-state identity that takes precedence.
Viewing Dubrovnik simply as part of a nation thus misses
the point. Such a vision cannot convey the ways in which
the city and its residents project identity and imagine
themselves, their history, or their interactions with the
broader region and the world.
Dubrovnik began its existence as a Latin colony of survivors
fleeing from the Avars to a small rocky island adjacent
to the eastern coast of the Adriatic; these 7th
century migrants were soon joined by Slavs. Thus, the city-state,
then called Ragusa, established itself as a place of ethnic
and religious dualism, its identity inextricably linked
to the notion of migration and refuge. From the medieval
era to the nineteenth century Ragusa was the object of various
imperial ambitions. It was subordinated to Venice from 1205
to 1358 and became know as a mercantile power that offered
asylum to all migrants. It was a vassal of Hungary from
1358-1526 (during which time it was the object of Serbian
expansionist ambitions) and then of the Ottoman Turks, but
retained its autonomy as an independent republic. Its trade
and culture flourished in the sixteenth century but declined
in the later 17th. Seized by Napoleon in
1805, Ragusa finally lost its freedom and it was annexed
to Austria in 1814. The modern mythology of Dubrovnik characterizes
this as a dark era of subordination after centuries of fierce
independence. In 1918 the city-state was incorporated into
the newly formed state of Yugoslavia and its name was officially
changed to the Slavic Dubrovnik. It was seized by Italy
in 1941, a period characterized in the citys
present-day mythology as one of Fascist oppressors and
tyrants, and incorporated into Croatia as part of the new
Yugoslavia after WWII.28 After the collapse of the Soviet Union,
Yugoslavia fractured and in 1991 and the citizens of Dubrovnik
voted to become part of the new democratic Republic of Croatia.29 Bosnia and Herzegovina devolved into war and
Serbia targeted Dubrovnik which survived a terrible siege
as the European Union and the United Nations, somewhat halfheartedly,
rose to its defense. Now, this most recent defense of Dubrovnik
looms large in the historical imagination of its people.
The naval museums displays, which chronicle the long history
of Dubrovnik and the sea, end with photographs of the citys
two harbors in flames after the 1991 bombing. And the Franciscan
cloister which along with the Dominican church forms the
two organizing poles of the old city, has added a new exhibit
to its small museum of medieval and Renaissance art work
and relics: a very contemporary bomb-shell that pierced
the roof in 1991. It is labeled simply Serbian bomb. These
additions to the record of Dubrovniks history proclaim
the continuity of the city-state identity, an identity marked
by fierce defense of independence and territorial isolation.
The enemy has a clear ethnic identity in these images and
their accompanying narratives, but the identification of
the defenders above all emphasizes their position as citizens
of the city-state.
Goa:
Goa, considered as a city-state rather than as a small port
embedded in the large nation state of India, reveals a series
of unique attributes and connections. The very particular
history of Goa - as a city-state, and (from 1948-1961)
as a small European colony surviving in a state (India)
that had thrown off colonial rule, then (from 1961-present)
as a fiercely independent territory in a broader ethno-linguistic
region - makes it a wonderful case for analyzing the borders
of race, religion, language, and caste.30
Goan identity formation, history writing, and institutions
are a function of the perceptions of those borders. Thus,
for example, Goan historiography has struggled over whether
to condone or condemn Portuguese influences. Goan cultural
institutions (like the Jesuit Xavier Center and the, Instituto
Menezes Braganza) reflect the claims of Portugal, the Catholic
Church, and Hindu consciousness on the citys history and
identity, producing works on topics such as the Hindu past,
the seafaring history of Goa, anti-Portuguese resistance,
and the cross-fertilization of Goan and Portuguese cultures.
A new generation of Goan students is learning Portuguese
in order to study the citys archival records while the
relative position of the Konkani, Marathi, Portuguese, Hindi,
and English languages is an issue contested in Goan intellectual
and quotidian life. The new journal Govapuri (the
ancient Hindu name for Goa) reveals the intertwined and
competing strands of identity within Goan culture today;
it includes poems, stories, accounts of the insult of Western
tourism, memoirs, and articles on Goan folklore, history,
and nationalist movements; it is written in English.31 Further, Goa has intriguing historical
connections, through voluntary and forced migration, to
such places as Mozambique, Timor and Japan.
In 1510 the Portuguese conquered Goa which then constituted
their major base on the west coast of South Asia. It had
been under the control of the Muslim sultan of Bijapur,
and the Portuguese furiously persecuted the Muslim elements
of the population and excluded them from government employment.32
Goa, a major port for pilgrims traveling to Mecca and for
the import of Arabian horses into India, would remain in
Portuguese hands until 1961. Under the Portuguese, Goa became
the capital of the whole Empire of the East and an administrative
province. It was also the center of an ecclesiastical province
which by 1606 included Macao, Japan, Peking, and Mozambique.
(Such wide ranging ecclesiastical divisions provide an interesting
alternative to imperial or national divisions of territorial
space.) The Jesuits became very active there and St.
Francis Xavier is interred in the old city, his incorruptible
remains on display in a glass coffin. Under Portuguese rule
Goa was a base for controlling the spice and textile trades;
in modern times it possesses a not particularly lucrative
export trade in rice, coconuts, fruit, spices, manganese
and iron ores, fish, and salt. The core (or Velhas Conquistas)
provinces were primarily Portuguese-speaking Christian and
the surrounding districts (Conquistas Novas) primarily Konkani-speaking
Hindu. Migration was (and is) a problem due to economic
insufficiency.33
Like the French in Syria, the Portuguese were obdurate in
clinging to Goa despite India gaining independence from
Britain in 1947. They claimed Goa, Diu and Daman were integral
parts of the Portuguese nation, a claim which reveals the
malleability of the notion of nation in the later 20th
century.34
A Goan Liberation Committee was established in Bombay in
1954, there were campaigns of active and passive resistance
and finally, in December 1961, Nehru marched Indian troops
in and seized Goa.35 Since Nehrus liberation of the city-state and its
surroundings, Goa has become an administrative province
of India under a chief-minister. But its Portuguese legacy
in the form of myth, history, institutions, atmosphere,
and tourist attractions retain the stamp of the long Portuguese
colonial era. Many of its residents are of mixed Portuguese
and Indian blood and bear Portuguese names, including its
chief-minister. In Goa, Nehrus policies of antiracism and
anti-colonialism had different implications than those in
territories that had been under British or princely-state
rule. Goa was a Portuguese island in a British sea; it is
still markedly distinct from the surrounding territories.
The map of India shows Goa as a tiny province caught between
the large states of Maharashtra and Karnataka. Indeed, maps
of modern day city-states provide an intriguing vehicle
for examining the construction of identity and interactions.36
LINKS:
Enduring Imperial/Colonial Control:
Dubrovnik and Goa remain focal points in enduring yet much
evolved colonial struggles. Dubrovnik has become a symbol
of the ability of the nation of Croatia to maintain its
hold on a vulnerable spit of land in the face of Serbian
(Yugoslav) imperial ambitions. That is an old story. Goa,
on the other hand, while no longer the subject of Portuguese
imperial ambitions, has been so indelibly marked by its
existence as a Portuguese colony that its administration
and institutional structures reflect an ethno-religious
cultural divide that is, in itself, an inherent element
of the city-states identity. Further, the nation state
of India has, in some ways, replaced the empire and nation
of Portugal in the Goan imagination as an imperial hegemon,
attempting to impose its will on a city and region that
prefers its own languages, culture, economic organization,
history, and style. Regionalism, often defined by language,
plays, of course, a very prominent role in the construction
of Indian national identity. It is embodied in countrys
foundational laws and is the subject of much popular political
rhetoric and scholarly analysis. Focusing on Goa as a city-state,
however, provides a new and more localized dimension to
the analysis of the internal dynamics of India; it shows
how critical a unique historical past is to the forms taken
by the contest between nation and part.
Dubrovnik, like Goa, makes a point of insisting on its separate
identity despite and because of its colonial past.37 Prominently displayed in the tourist
shops and bookstores of Dubrovnik in the summer of 1999
was the fourth edition of a photographic work by Matica
Hrvatska Dubrovnik, entitled Dubrovnik in War, detailing
in text and images the defense of Dubrovnik against the
Serbian onslaught in 1991.38 It is a book that suggests both
devastation, isolation, and triumph. The visitor can walk
the old citys streets and find the sites where bombs fell
and buildings burned. This strange sort of tourist guide
illustrates a new episode in Dubrovniks story of autonomy,
ferocious independence, and resistance against acquisitive
enemies. Similarly, the survival of Dubrovnik has become
a marker of pride for the whole Croatian nation in its struggle
against the ambitions for a Greater Serbia. Hence, the Little
David city-state is both separate and part of the new
nation that emerged in the aftermath of the collapse of
Yugoslavia.
The Eastern Caribbean and Indonesia appear to be using their
long experiences with colonialism in opposite ways.
The Caribbean islands construct colonialism as something
in the past and increasingly see the economic advantages
of close cooperation. Indonesias parts are all at
the stage of identifying the core (Jakarta, and by extension
Java) as embodiment of old colonial hegemonies. They
are in a state of resistance against this core that for
many seems to mean eventual secession.
Geographic Isolation:
Dubrovnik and Goa are both islands attached to mainlands
and that island structure has, historically, crafted their
identities.39 Modern Goa is much
more accessible than modern Dubrovnik which possesses no
rail links to the surrounding region (both have airports).
The mountainous hinterland and rocky and hazardous Adriatic
shore have always isolated Dubrovnik which (historically)
functioned commercially as a coastal entrepot along overland
and sea-based trade routes. The sea was often the citys
source of relief from land-based invaders. Indeed, the film
celebrating the reconstruction of Dubrovniks Inter-University
Centre proudly notes that the citys brave young divers
swam out daily to circumvent the besieging Serbian army,
retrieve newspapers, and communicate with their Croatian
compatriots. Thus part of the mythologizing of Dubrovniks
modern history involves the image of the resourceful and
hardy citizen who has learned to make an advantage out of
his/her isolation. Goa, on the other hand, in the modern
era relies more on cultural, linguistic economic, and historical
divides to mark its isolation from the rest of the subcontinent.
Unlike Goa and Dubrovnik, our other island cases are more
decisively defined by their isolation from the rest of the
world. There is not the same flow of interaction and communication;
staying or leaving is always a major decision. Further,
the nation cannot be imposed and retained on an island
(or islands, Indonesia for example) in the same way that
is can be imposed on contiguous territory. Island peoples
do, like city-state people, glorify the idea of being removed,
of occupying a different space.
Perceptions of the two archipelagos discussed here as isolated
or not, vary. Not too long ago the Eastern Caribbean
lay at the heart of the global plantation economy, as did
Indonesia. Given ocean technology of the time both
were rather intimately integrated with the outside world.
Today, that seems less the case, especially for the Caribbean,
whose role as a tourist destination is paramount in island
economics, and this role is to some extent linked to a notion
of desirable isolation from the cares of urban life.
Indonesias continued role as a source of raw materials
and of manufactured goods, places it still at the center
of world commerce. Indonesian products are in every
American home. But another factor must be remembered.
The Internet and mobile communication devices have brought
both archipelagos into immediate contact with the outside
world, and that fact is changing the economies of both places
and is blurring the meaning of spatial isolation.
Identities Defined by the Sea:
Goa and Dubrovnik have historically been linked to the sea
by their dependence on sea-based commerce and fishing and
by their vulnerability to attack from the sea. What distinguishes
the two city-states in this regard is Dubrovniks longer
and fuller history of involvement in sea-based combat and
Goas much greater integration into an agriculturally based
economy. In both cases, however, the construction of the
modern city-state identity is very much based on histories
of seaborne interactions: the people, goods, and traditions
that came and went by sea. Migration is also linked to the
sea, even if the initial route is overland. Goa, in particular,
like Ireland, narrates its history in terms of migration
across the sea forced by the political and economic brutality
of a colonial master. While Dubrovnik and Goa both have
histories of land- based migration to Zagreb and Bombay
respectively, Goan identity in particular has significant
links to political and labor migration to sites such as
Mozambique and Timor, other Portuguese colonial territories.40
The sea is also critical to the construction of both Goa
and Dubrovnik as tourist magnets, particularly Goa, which
gained fame as a tourist attraction because of its great
expanses of the unspoiled beaches so important to European
tourists.41
The people of the Eastern Caribbean and Indonesia appear
to view the surrounding sea from different perspectives.
In the Caribbean, the sea is primarily a beautiful backdrop
for island life and a physical situation that must be coped
with. Ocean based travel and economic activity are
not highly developed, perhaps because when the indigenous
people of the Caribbean were eliminated, they were replaced
with a variety of people who came primarily from inland
locations with no traditions of using sea resources.
Water transport between islands that existed of necessity
during the colonial era has given way almost entirely to
air transport. Only a few islanders fish. Caribbean
people do remember fondly, however, that for a brief period
after World War II, until air travel took over, there was
a special unity among all Eastern Caribbean islands of all
colonial heritages that was based on the sea. This
unity was born of the fact that for little money one could
travel the entire island chain on small commercial boats.42
Indonesia, on the other hand, retains many indigenous groups
that have an ancient heritage of fishing, sea travel and
commerce. The sea remains an important source
of food and a means of transport, and in fact, ports in
the region are now essential parts of global commerce, and
those with seafaring skills play an important role in the
global merchant marine.
Tourism:
One of the elements that makes a city-state endure as such
within the framework of the modern nation state is its self-conscious
construction as a tourist attraction. The city emphasizes
its history and geography as separate and attractive. Its
uses its tourist potential to provide it with leverage in
terms of maintaining its autonomy. In turn, the nation state
in which the city-state is embedded benefits from the preservation
of that sense of difference and uniqueness. The two political
and cultural entities exist in a state of tension based
on both shared interest and conflict over control of tourism.
Goa and Dubrovnik have both depended extensively upon the
revenues of tourism in recent years and have capitalized
upon their unique city-state identities and historical treasures
to develop that tourism. The ways in which their tourist
industries have evolved, however, are very different. Where
Goa is experiencing an expansion and gentrification of its
tourist industry and attracting an increasing volume of
Indian tourists in recent years (accompanied by more entrepreneurial
activity on one hand and more rabid anti-tourist sentiment
on the other), Dubrovnik has seen its tourist trade and
revenues fall dramatically as a result of a full decade
of armed conflict.43 While the city itself
is no longer the object of military struggle, its proximity
to Kosovo and the world perception of regional instability
mean that its tourist industry continues to suffer dramatically.
Several major hotels remain bombed-out ruins, including
the desolate Liberty, whose huge sign, rather ironically,
dominates a hillside over the Adriatic while its rooms sprout
grasses and remain roofless and open to the night air.
The Liberty points up the ephemeral nature of tourism in
places like Dubrovnik, Indonesia and parts of the Caribbean.
The threat of war or internal violence means that the populace
can never count on the continuity of tourist revenues.
Thus, while employment in the tourist industry is an important
option, the fact that those jobs are not dependable makes
migration an important option as well. Tourism runs the
economies of the Caribbean and the economies of Dubrovnik
and Goa. Tourism also provokes the fear (or provides the
reality) of cities, beaches, ecosystems, economies, and
cultural systems being swamped by strangers thus, in turn,
providing a focus for debates over housing, traffic, education,
and identity.44
In our archipelagos, tourism is tied to public perceptions
of tranquility and danger. At the moment the Caribbean
plays up its role as a destination of safe relaxing escape,
a place characterized by a level of racial harmony and interaction
that is difficult to find in North America from where most
tourists come. Any evidence of discord or danger is
eschewed in tourism literature.
Indonesia, in large part because of recent political unrest
centered on issues of national identity, has become a destination
primarily for adventure tourism (Bali is a an exception).
The tourist literature focuses on travelers who wear back-packs
and are aware of and interested in the social issues in
the various parts of the archipelago. Arguments are
even made that these adventure tourists are better for the
economy because they tend to spend much more within local
communities and less with outside travel agencies or cruise
lines that export incomes to First World capitals.45
CONCLUSIONS:
The scope of this paper does not allow us to present in-depth
analysis of our model. Nonetheless, we hope this brief proposal
has suggested the ways islands and city-states may be used,
for scholarship and pedagogy, to reconfigure our notions
of area and nation and the ways in which they interact.
Diverting our gaze from the nation state in this fashion
allows us to develop comparisons that are not otherwise
obvious.46 The island and city-state models allow
us to explore smaller-scale and cross-national forms of
identity that have different temporal limits than nation
state identities. They highlight sea-based interactions,
and different patterns of migration, economic organization,
tourism, and institutional identity. They allow us to develop
alternative themes of analysis. The city-state examples
of Goa and Dubrovnik, for example, highlight the ways in
which analysis of ethno-religious divides based on the nation
states of India and Croatia (or, formerly, Yugoslavia) are
not representative of smaller-scale identity formation in
segments of the nation-state. National tourism and migration
statistics do not reflect the realities of the situation
in cultural and historical centers within the nation. Yet,
cross-national comparison of city-states and islands can
lead to revealing similarities in identity formation, population
movement, institutional development, and resistance to national
colonialism.
Notes
1 Lydia M. Pulsipher, Can Volcano-based
Eco-Tourism Save Montserrat? A Post-Colonial Development
Proposal. Paper presented at the Association of American
Geographers Meetings, Pittsburgh, P.A. April 5, 2000,
pp. 1, 2.
2 One student, a truck driver, noted that
his work-generated maps chronically understated distances
which resulted in the drivers being underpaid for distance
driven.
3 Martin Lewis and Karen Wigen, The
Myth of Continents: A Critique of Metageography (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1997); and Benedict Anderson,
Imagined Communities, Reflections on the Origin and Spread
of Nationalism (London: Verso Press, 1991).
4 We drew our case studies from these regions
and asked the students to read basic geographical analyses
of each one. We then divided the regions based on our own
expertise. If the historian initially presented the issues
of identity, imperialism, and nationalism for a specific
region, then the geographer would add commentary (and sometimes
critique), and vice versa. Temporally, we focused on the
period from the mid-nineteenth to the twentieth centuries.
Race and gender were important topics in our discussions
about identity formation (ethnic cleansing through rape
in Bosnia, gendered access to power in post-colonial states,
Portuguese colonialism in Goa, and revolutionary proponents
in the Caribbean), but they were not our primary focus.
5 In the cases of both archipelagos discussed
here the chains of islands lie along the leading edge of
tectonic plates and are for the most part volcanic in origin,
the result of subduction. Lydia M. Pulsipher, World Regional
Geography, (New York: W.H. Freeman, 1999), pp. 108,
473).
6 Bonham C. Richardson, The
Caribbean in the Wider World, 1492-1992: A Regional Geography,
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).
7Jonathan Rigg, Southeast Asia: The Human
Landscape of Modernization and Development, (London
and New York: Routledge Press, 1997).
8 David Watts, The West Indies: Patterns
of Development, Culture and Environmental Change since 1492
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989).
9 Lydia M. Pulsipher and Conrad M. Goodwin,
Here where the old time people be, in Jay B. Haviser,
African Sites Archaeology in the Caribbean, Princeton
and Kingston: Markus Wiener Publications and Ian Randle
Publications, 1999.
10 Within 100 years of European contact,
most island lowlands and uplands were cleared of their forests
and thousands of monocrop plantations were installed, colonial
towns were built and a wide range of alien animals and plants
were introduced. See Franklin W. Knight, The Caribbean:
The Genesis of a Fragmented Nationalism, 2nd.
ed. (Oxford &New York: Oxford University Press, 1990);
and Lydia M. Pulsipher, Galways Plantation, in Herman
Viola and Carolyn Margolis, ed. Seeds of Change (Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Press, 1990).
11 D.R. SarDesai, Southeast Asia, Past
and Present, 4th ed., (Boulder, Westview
Press, 1997), pp. 63-99.
12 Knight, op.cit., pp. 159-193.
13 SarDesai, op. cit. p. 90. Contrary to
the Caribbean, British colonial policy in Indonesia included
building an entrepreneurial rural majority freed to some
degree from the tight control of their native leaders and
sufficiently well off to be able to buy British manufactured
goods.
15 Grants in aid come in from the European
Union and Canada, and even occasionally from Asia and the
United States. But, now some of these support systems are
shrinking. For example, bananas can no longer be sold
to Britain at higher than world market prices under EU regulations;
and lower labor costs in Asia are making Eastern Caribbean
light manufacturing uncompetitive. Nonetheless, tourism
and remittances are taking up some of the slack and as a
result the human well-being of the region is secure.
16 United Nations Development Programme,
Human Development Report 2000 (New York: Development
Programme, 2000), Human Development Index, Table 1. In 1998,
Barbados out-ranked its former colonial power (Britain)
on empowerment of women. U. N. Development Programme, Human
Development Report 1998, (New York: Development Programme,
1998), Gender Empowerment Index, Table 3.
17 Gary S. Elbow, "Scale and
Regional Identity in the Caribbean," in G. H. Herb
and D. H. Kaplan, Nested Identities: Nationalism, Territory,
and Scale, Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Littlefield, 1999),
75-99.
18 United Nations Development Programme,
Human Development Reports 1996 and 2000, (New
York: Development Programme, 1996 and 2000), Human Development
Index, Table 1 for both years.
19 The European states were hampered by
their colonizers model of the world, their inability
to imagine that the Caribbean peoples could manage their
own affairs. This phrase was coined by geographer James
Blaut, The Colonizer's Model of the World : Geographical
Diffusionism and Eurocentric History, (New York
: Guilford Press, 1993).
20 Examples of Caribbean leaders who have
reached international renown are the Nobel Prize winners,
Sir Arthur Lewis and Derek Walcott.
21 Recently Britain unilaterally abolished
laws in Montserrat and the Cayman Islands that discriminated
against homosexuals. While this angered the islands
affected, the action opened a region-wide debate that may
result in voluntary abolition on other islands.
22 SarDesai, op.cit., pp 167 ff. The Islamic
movement also included those with socialist and communist
philosophies, whose efforts at constructing identity out
of anti-Dutch sentiment and social reform within Indonesia
were supported by some Dutch communist thinkers.
25 I use traditional here to mean modes
of organization and identification that have been embedded
over time, ones that have become part of the historical
memory, of the culture. I use culture here in the sense
of Donald Edward Brown, Human Universals (Temple
U. Press), as cited in Joseph Trimble, Considering the
Cultures Within, Radcliffe Quarterly (Fall 2000),
pp.12-13. Culture consists of the conventional patterns
of thought, activity, and artifact that are passed on from
generation to generation in a manner that is generally assumed
to involve learning rather than specific genetic programming.
Besides being transmitted vertically from generation to
generation, culture may also be transmitted horizontally
between individuals and collectives.
26 Jerusalem does not have the attachment
to the sea that our other examples have. Yet, methodologically
it can be treated as an island and as a city-state. Despite
its long early-modern history as a backwater and minor trading
town in Palestine, Jerusalem is distinguished by it sacred
status and by its modern colonial history. That separateness
is pointed up by the proposals for the partition of Palestine
after WWI (which tended to treat the city as a separate,
international entity within the region) and by the struggles
of the last generation over the status of Jerusalem as capital
of a real state of Israel and a so far only imagined state
of Palestine. Like our other examples here, Jerusalem can
be analyzed as a city-state in terms of migration, ethno-religious
divides and syntheses, function as a tourist city, and historical
construction as a separate identity within a set of greater
regions. Jerusalem and Dubrovnik, as walled cities, may
be compared for their celebration of those walls.
27 Anuka Novaković, Dubrovnik and
Its Surroundings (Zagreb: Turism and Heritage, 1998).
The pages in this guide are unnumbered.
28 Dubrovnik, no page number. The
official tourist guides tend to present a very fuzzy picture
of the period of fascist rule in Croatia; it does not jibe
well with the city-state self identity which emphasizes
freedom.
29 Dubrovnik in the modern era exports,
among other things: liqueurs, cheeses, some agricultural
products and slate. It was famous before the mid-nineteenth
century vine disease, for its malmsey wine.
30 These themes of race, caste, colonialism
(and parallels with Philippine colonial policy) are pointed
out by Teotonio de Souzas Introduction to, Joaquim Heliodor
da Cunha Rivara, Goa and the Revolt of 1787 (New
Delhi: Concept Publishing, 1996), pp. 9-16.
31 Govapuri (or Gova) is the name of the
ancient Hindu city of Goa, mentioned in the Puranas
and other ancient Hindu texts.
32 Alfonso dAlbuquerque wrote his king
that Goa could be used to wrest the wealth of India and
business from the hands of the Moors. Stanley Wolpert,
A New History of India, 6th edition (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 137.
34 Wolpert, p. 363. Daman and Diu are Gujarati
ports.
35 Hermann Kulke and Dietmar Rothermund,
History of India (London: Routledge, 1998), p. 322-323.
African nationalists had criticized Nehru at the 1960 Belgrade
conference of non-aligned nations for failing to take the
lead in breaking the last vestiges of Portuguese world colonial
power.
36 The tourist map of the Republic of Croatia
distributed in 1999 is full of images presenting the nation
as a tranquil, seaside country steeped in history and dotted
with antique monuments. A political map, on one side, shows
Dubrovnik in terms of access; it is marked by icons for:
a UNESCO World Heritage Site, fortresses, castles, churches,
museums, camp sites, and marinas. City inset maps on the
page are located to block out most of Bosnia-Herzegovina,
Macedonia, and the Serb Republic. A more impressionistic
tourist map on the other side shows Croatia as detached
from its neighboring countries (existing in a sort of spatial
and historical vacuum with only the sea to its west indicating
its surroundings). Dubrovnik is marked by its fortress walls,
a sailing ship, and a flag labeled Libertas. Tourist
Map/Road Map: Croatia, prepared by Zoran Klarić,
(Zagreb: Turistička Zajednica, 1998). In contrast,
a National Geographic map, The Balkans, printed in 1999,
shows the area as one of conflict and ethnic divisions.
Dubrovnik, like many other cities in the region, is marked
by a red explosion icon indicating air-ground conflict
1991-1999. Insets for each country provide a brief historical
synopsis and indicate ethnic-group percentages of population.
The caption under the maps title reads, Invading hordes,
ambitious empires, and the cultural divide between East
and West have left the Balkan Peninsula with a legacy of
continual conflict. That of course is a gross historical
reduction, but it reflects the concern and emphasis of the
American media and public directed to the region in 1999.
The reverse-side of this map is a world map that shows The
Plight of Refugees. India, East Timor, and Yugoslavia and
Bosnia (among other sites) are all indelibly connected on
this map as places from which people are fleeing. Croatia
is listed as the recipient of 8% of the refugees who fled
Bosnia in 1998. National Geographic Society, The Balkans
(Washington D.C., National Geographic, 1999). For Croatia,
population 4,677,000, the percentages are: Croat 78%,
Serb 12%, Other 8%, Muslim 0.9%, Hungarian 0.5%, Slovene
0.5%.
37 Attached to the giant stones of the fortress
of Dubrovnik, just outside the main gate, is a large plaque,
placed so as to attract the attention of every visitor and
citizen entering the old city. It depicts the hits inflicted
and endured during the 1991 Serbian bombing of the city.
The message of this plaque can be juxtaposed to a series
of images throughout the city showing the spectacular success
of preservation and reconstructive efforts since 1991. Insult,
survival, and reconstruction are thus inherent parts of
the story by which Dubrovnik markets itself to tourists
and to its own citizens.
38 Matica Hrvatska Dubrovnik, Dubrovnik
in War, 4th edition (Dubrovnik: by the author,
1998). A similar story is told in a film celebrating
the citys Inter-University Centre. The film, celebrating
the twentieth anniversary of the Centre was in production
when the Centre was bombed and burned. Rather than scrap
the film, the filmmakers added a coda showing the building
in flames and asserting that it would rise again, as it
did, from the ashes.
39 Both Goa and Dubrovnik count their populations
on a city-state model, the city and surrounding settlements
(including, in the case of Dubrovnik, coastal islands).
The website indianvisit.com lists (1/14/2001) the population
of Goa (and surrounding region) as 1,169,793. The official
Dubrovnik City Guide of July/August 1999, issued by the
Dubrovnik Tourist Board, lists this population (of 31 settlements)
as 47,004. [The Dubrovnik tourist board on on 1/14/2001
listed the population as 55,638.] The guide is written in
Serbo-Croatian and in English.
40 Mozambique provides another interesting
comparison as an island port-city connected to a much larger
hinterland. The Portuguese settled there in 1508 and it
was the capital of Portuguese East Africa until 1897. Like
Dubrovnik, Goa, and other port-cities, it has a long history
of seafaring, cosmopolitan, ethnically-mixed culture. See
Manfred Prinz, Intercultural Links Between Goa and Mozambique
in their Colonial and Contemporary History: Literary Mozambiquean
Traces, in Charles Borges, ed. Goa and Portugal and
Their Cultural Links (New Delhi: Concept Publishing,
1997), pp. 11-127, and 93-110 for other articles. In the
later 19th C. Portugal deported Maratha rebels
who had taken refuge from the British in Goa to Timor after
they refused to be transported to East Africa. See Goa
and the Revolt of 1787, p. 10. On migration up to 1961,
see Stella Mascarenhas-Keyes, International Migration:
Its Development, Reproduction and Economic Impact on Goa
up to 1961, in Teotonio de Souza, Goa Through the Ages,
An Economic History, vol. II, 2nd edition
(New Delhi: Concept Publishing, 1999), pp. 242-262.
41 Goa of course became famous for an entire
get-away lifestyle which included beaches, youth-culture,
drugs, dancing, bohemianism and cheap food and lodging.
42 Inter-island boat traffic is now irregular
because most imported goods arrive not from the region but
from distant global locations via container ship. In 1962
two ships, the Federal Maple and the Federal Palm, were
given to the West Indies Federation by Canada, with the
idea that they would ply the island chain continually from
north to south and south to north, affording constant ocean
transport for the newly united archipelago. They ran
for more than ten years, but were not economical and service
was halted in the mid 1970s.
43 I have seen estimates that the numbers
of tourists who visit Goa annually range from 1 million
to 1,200,000.
44 The following statement appears on the
back of the new journal Govapuri: Bulletin of the Institute
Menezes Braganza (April-June 1999): One of the most
difficult battles a serious student of Goan society has
to fight is with the myth-makers who sit in the tourism
promotion offices. For the tourism promoters and the rest
of those involved in the hospitality industry the engagement
with Goa is only as deep as the depth of the wad of money
they get out of it. What happens to the society of Goa is
not their concern. The result is that the tourists
never come to know of real Goa. What [sic.] to speak of
the tourists, the mythologizing by the tourism promoters
even keeps the younger generations of Goa from knowing anything
about the history, culture, and arts of their native land.
46 The areas focused on here are seldom
considered (and often not even mentioned) in world history
texts.
|
Copyright Statement
Copyright: 2001 by the American Historical
Association. Compiled by Debbie Ann Doyle. Format by Chris Hale.
|