Friday, July 05, 2019

Charles Darwin said all humans have a common ancestor but could not reject racism as bad science

BOOK EXCERPT

Angela Saini’s ‘Superior’ tracks the troubling return of so-called scientific attempts to prove that some races are greater than others.


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Angela Saini

In 1871 biologist Charles Darwin published The Descent of Man, sweeping away these religious creation myths and framing the human species as having had one common ancestor many millennia ago, evolving slowly like all other life on earth. Studying humans across the world, their emotions and expressions, he wrote, “It seems improbable to me in the highest degree that so much similarity, or rather identity of structure, could have been acquired by independent means.”

We are too alike in our basic responses, our smiles and tears, our blushes. On this alone, Darwin might have settled the race debate. He demonstrated that we could only have evolved from shared origins, that human races didn’t emerge separately.

On a personal level, this was important to him. Darwin’s family included influential abolitionists, his grandfathers Erasmus Darwin and Josiah Wedgwood. He himself had seen the brutality of slavery first-hand on his travels. When naturalist Louis Agassiz in the United States spoke about human races having separate origins, Darwin wrote disparagingly in a letter that this must have come as comfort to slaveholding Southerners.

But this wasn’t the last word on the subject. Darwin still struggled when it came to race.


Like Abraham Lincoln, who was born on the same day, he opposed slavery but was also ambivalent on the question of whether black Africans and Australians were strictly equal to white Europeans on the evolutionary scale. He left open the possibility that, even though we could all be traced back to a common ancestor, that we were the same kind, populations may have diverged since then, producing levels of difference.

As British anthropologist Tim Ingold notes, Darwin saw gradations between the “highest men of the highest races and the lowest savages”. He suggested, for example, that the “children of savages” have a stronger tendency to protrude their lips when they sulk than European children, because they are closer to the “primordial condition”, similar to chimps. Gregory Radick, historian and philosopher of science at the University of Leeds, observes that Darwin, even though he made such a bold and original contribution to the idea of racial unity, also seemed to be unembarrassed by his belief in an evolutionary hierarchy. Men were above women, and white races were above others.

In combination with the politics of the day, this was devastating. Uncertainty around the biological facts left more than enough room for ideology to be mixed with real science, fabricating fresh racial myths. Some argued that brown and yellow races were a bit higher up than black, while whites were the most evolved, and by implication, the most civilised and the most human.

What was seen to be the success of the white races became couched in the language of the “survival of the fittest”, with the implication that the most “primitive” peoples, as they were described, would inevitably lose the struggle for survival as the human race evolved.


Rather than seeing evolution acting to make a species better adapted to its particular environment, Tim Ingold argues that Darwin himself began to frame evolution as an “imperialist doctrine of progress”.

“In bringing the rise of science and civilisation within the compass of the same evolutionary process that had made humans out of apes, and apes out of creatures lower in the scale, Darwin was forced to attribute what he saw as the ascendancy of reason to hereditary endowment,” writes Ingold. “For the theory to work, there had to be significant differences in such endowment between ‘tribes’ or ‘nations’.” For hunter-gatherers to live so differently from city-dwellers, the logic goes, it must be that their brains had not yet progressed to the same stage of evolution.

Adding fuel to this bonfire of flawed thinking (after all, we know that the brains of hunter-gatherers are no different from those of anyone else) were Darwin’s supporters, some of whom happened to be fervent racists. The English biologist Thomas Henry Huxley, known as “Darwin’s Bulldog”, argued that not all humans were equal. In an 1865 essay on the emancipation of black slaves, he wrote that the average white was “bigger brained”, adding, “The highest places in the hierarchy of civilisation will assuredly not be within the reach of our dusky cousins.”

For Huxley, freeing slaves was a morally good thing for white men to do, but the raw facts of biology made the idea of equal rights – for women as well as for black people – little more than an “illogical delusion”.


In Germany, meanwhile, Darwin’s loudest cheerleader was Ernst Haeckel, who taught zoology at the University of Jena from 1862, and was a proud nationalist. He liked to draw connections between black Africans and primates, seeing them as a kind of living “missing link” in the evolutionary chain that connected apes to white Europeans.

Darwinism did nothing to inhibit racism. Instead, ideas about the existence of different races and their relative superiority were merely repackaged in new theories. Science, or the lack of it, managed only to legitimise racism, rather than quash it. Whatever real and reasonable questions might have been asked about human difference were always tainted by power and money.

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Excerpted with permission from Superior: The Return of Race Science, Angela Saini, HarperCollins India.

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The Daily Fix: Where is the personal data protection law that Indians were promised?

The Aadhaar Amendments and the Economic Survey envision government monetising data by selling access to it. What about privacy? 

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Narinder Nanu/AFP

Rohan Venkataramakrishnan

There is a small portion in the Economic Survey, tabled in Parliament on Thursday, that reveals something quite important: In a chapter dedicated to treating data as a public good, meaning government would have the freedom to use it, the Survey says, “Even if not explicitly mentioned every time data is talked about in this chapter, it is assumed that the processing of data will be in compliance with accepted privacy norms and the upcoming privacy law, currently tabled in Parliament.”

Those italics are in the document itself, and this is the only portion of the body text that is highlighted. Why is this significant? Because the survey seems to believe that India has laid down some “accepted privacy norms” and that a privacy law has been tabled in Parliament. Unfortunately, these norms remain nebulous. Though the government told the Supreme Court years ago that it would pass the privacy law, more commonly referred to as the Personal Data Protection Bill, there is no sign of one.

The absence of such a law is important because the government is making strenuous efforts to do all sorts of things with the data of Indian citizens. Remember, it is the Bharatiya Janata Party-led government that argued in the Supreme Court that Indians have no fundamental right to privacy, a contention that was unanimously rejected by the judges.

Since then, the government has paid lip service to the idea of privacy, even as it doubled down on the idea of data as a “national resource” rather than individual property. This view has been put forward in a number of draft pieces of legislation over the last year and a half, all of which make the argument that the government ought to be the custodian of data – which can even be handed over to private organisations for monetisation.

Commercial use

On Thursday, for example, the Lok Sabha passed the Aadhaar Amendment Bill, which would permit the commercial use of Aadhaar, India’s biometric unique identification system, originally developed to be used only to deliver welfare benefits. The Supreme Court, in a 2018 judgment, had struck down the use of Aadhaar by commercial entities but left open the door for Parliament to pass a new law regulating this, all under the pernicious fiction that use of the biometric ID could be “voluntary”. 

The very same day, the Economic Survey chapter on data went even further. “Datasets may be sold to analytics agencies that process the data, generate insights, and sell the insights further to the corporate sector, which may in turn use these insights to predict demand, discover untapped markets or innovate new products.” In other words, the Survey envisions the government making money off information often mandatorily extracted from citizens, with the benefits of this going to corporations and with no question of whether this will be done with the consent of the individual. 

This is where the Personal Data Protection Bill comes in. A panel headed by Justice Srikrishna put forward a draft bill last year. Although many had questions, comments and criticisms of the draft, it laid out one approach for how Indians can lay claim to their own data, which is something that each one of us generates, unlike a resource like oil or coal that may just happen to lie on land belonging to a citizen. 

Yet there has been almost no discussion from the government itself about this law since then, though it has gone ahead in discussing things like the E-Commerce Bill, Cloud Computing regulations and so on. The Economic Survey, in a section that one can only surmise was tentative (and hence in italics), recognises the elephant in the room and tries to address it by saying that the privacy law is on its way. 

But this is untrue. The government has made no indication that it plans to bring the law anytime soon. Simply put, this should count as a violation of our fundamental rights. Before the government can think about starting a data war with the United States or trying to monetise datasets of citizens by handing them over to the private sector, it must pass a strong data protection law built on the idea that privacy is a fundamental right and consent belongs to the citizen. 

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Friday, May 03, 2019

How would a razor know the difference between a boy and a girl?

In Partnership with #ShavingStereotypes

In the footsteps of ‘The Best A Man Can Be, Gillette’s latest ad makes a powerful statement

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May 01, 2019

Long live, O son. Your birth brings fortune to the family, so begins Gillette’s latest ad in Banwari Tola, a small village in eastern Uttar Pradesh. The lyrics are derived from the Sohar, a traditional song sung in some parts of North India to celebrate the birth of a boy. The film begins with a little boy hopping and skipping around the village, taking in all the typical sights and scenes of a regular day in rural India. His father’s voice rings in his ears, “Children always learn from what they see.”

On his path, the child comes across vibrant scenes that define the way of life in his village — men roughing it out in the akhada, women returning after fetching water, men manning the shops around etc. He watches and learns, like a sponge that absorbs everything around it, and forms his own observations — the boys inherit their vocation from their father, while the girls have their domesticity to keep them occupied. It’s a fairly simple world he’s seen in his eight-year long life, until one day he notices something out of the ordinary during a trip to a barbershop.

Barbershops in India have always been all-male zones, so you can imagine the little boy’s bewilderment and absolute confusion when two girls pick up the razor.



“How would a razor know the difference between a boy and a girl?” Just one simple statement from the father to his son is enough to change his perspective forever. The film captures how deep-seated stereotypes can be shaved from the society. It’s through observation that gender norms get hard coded, and it’s through observation that they can also be dismantled.

Jyoti and Neha Narayan challenged the norms and ventured into a male-dominated profession by taking over their father’s barbershop at a very young age while ensuring not to skip their education . Seeing their sheer grit and determination, the entire village of Banwari Tola rallied behind them to help them in their endeavour. The girls now have a stream of loyal customers who appreciate their work and are their well-wishers. Jyoti and Neha have given the Sohar a new meaning in their village, long live O daughter, your birth brings light into our world.

The barbershop girls and the village of Banwari Tola have set an example for future generations on how to look beyond gender norms. Thanks to their efforts, the kids in their village will have no trouble imagining women as skilled barbers. After all, as the little boy’s father says in the closing scene of the ad, “Children always learn from what they see.”

By keeping it simple and yet #ShavingStereotypes, the Gillette ad beautifully brings out the story of two sisters who’re inspiring the next generation of men to rethink their notions about gender roles.

This article was produced by the Scroll marketing team on behalf of #ShavingStereotypes and not by the Scroll editorial team.

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Friday, April 19, 2019

How Humayun convinced the love of his life to marry him

Valentine's Day

Hamida Bano grew up to be a feisty queen and loyal wife, but when she first met her husband, she was just an angry teen.

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Rana Safvi  Feb 14, 2017

Hamida Bano was a 14-year-old when Humayun Badshah, 33, met her in Pat, a town in Sehewan in the kingdom of Thatta, in 1541. Having been defeated by Sher Shah Suri in the battle of Kannauj, Humayun was on the run – he had lost the kingdom his father Babur had established in India and along with his half brother Hindal, he took refuge with Shah Hussain, the Sultan of Thatta in Sind.

After many days spent travelling through perilous and desolate deserts, they had finally found some peace. Humayun’s stepmother Dildar Bano, who was Hindal’s mother, gave a banquet in his honour and among the guests she invited, was the beautiful Hamida.

Hamida’s father Sheikh Ali Akbar, a Persian sufi more popularly known as Mir Baba Dost, was Hindal’s spiritual instructor, and there was a close bond between him and the family. As soon as Humayun saw Hamida Bano, he asked his stepmother Dildar, “Who is this?” He was mesmerised by the beauty and liveliness of the teenager and asked if she was already betrothed. On hearing that she was not, he expressed the desire to marry her.

Mirza Hindal was affronted. Not because, as some stories and texts say, he was in love with her – but because he was concerned about the family name.

“I look on this girl as a sister and child of my own,” he is believed to have said. “Your Majesty is a king – heaven forbid there should not be a proper meher, and so a cause of annoyance should rise.” Meher is a mandatory payment in the form of money or possessions paid or promised by the groom, or the groom’s father, to the bride at the time of marriage, which legally becomes her property. Hindal was concerned that an emperor on the run may not have enough resources for this endowment to his bride at the time of nikah, or their wedding.

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Emperor Humayun. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

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Hindal Mirza, the younger half brother of the second Mughal emperor Humayun. Credit: Wikimedia Commons 

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Monday, April 15, 2019

In highlighting India’s cultural diversity, an artist hopes to find her own identity

Internet Culture

Agrima Kaji’s illustration series ‘Beauty in Diversity’ spotlights cultural identifiers of Indian states through portraits of women in traditional attire.

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Agrima Kaji

Damini Kulkarni

In an illustration by artist Agrima Kaji, a young woman can be seen holding her head high. Her pose, deftly detailed by the artist, radiates confidence and ease. She has wind in her hair and intricate tattoos on her body.

The illustration is among the 31 Kaji drew for her Beauty in Diversity project. Each features the profile of a woman dressed in traditional attire and depicts specific cultural identifiers associated with different Indian states. The images, shared on Kaji’s Instagram, are evocative and endearing celebrations of India’s cultural and ethnic diversity. But they also hint at the complexity of social and cultural mechanisms, which define collective identity.

Beauty in Diversity began with Kaji’s questions about her own identity. “My grandfather is from Himachal Pradesh, my mother is from Uttarakhand and my grandmother from Punjab,” said Kaji, who lives in Hyderabad. “And I am married into a Gujarati family. I have very diverse roots and I have always wondered what identity I should put forth as my own.”

Any attempt by Kaji “to define” herself became more difficult every time she moved cities. “I went from being a Delhiite to a Bangalorean and then a Hyderabadi,” said the 28-year-old, who is an alumna of the Delhi School of Art and National Institute of Design. Beauty in Diversity, then, was a means for Kaji “to find my own identity”.


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As Pondicherry’s Creole food fades from restaurants, a Kannadiga home chef has become its evangelist

Food

In Motchamary Pushpam’s kitchen, it’s easy to see the diverse influences – French, Tamil, Portuguese, Dutch and Mughal – that shaped the region’s cusine.

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Motchamary Pushpam | Priyadarshini Chatterjee

Priyadarshini Chatterjee

Sixty-eight-year-old Motchamary Pushpam, Pushpa to most, adjusted her apron and kept a pan on the flame. “Let’s fry the fish in the meantime,” she said in Tamil. On the adjacent flame, thinly sliced onions, garlic cloves, fresh curry leaves and a single bay leaf sizzled in another pan, releasing delightful aromas that wafted through her sunlit house.

Pushpa was busy making the quintessentially Pondicherrian Fish Assad Curry, a coconut-milk-laden curry, flavoured with anise and curry leaves and finished with a squeeze of lime. She would serve the dish at her table d’hôte lunch, later in the afternoon. “They have cut the fish a little too thin,” she complained, while grinding poppy seeds in an electric grinder. The poppy seed paste is an essential ingredient for the Assad Curry.

Anita de Canaga, Pushpa’s daughter, effortlessly repeated her mother’s words in French to the two French women, who had their attention and mobile cameras trained on Pushpa’s every move as she smoothly manoeuvred her way around her airy, uncluttered kitchen – chopping, blending and stirring, while the fish sizzled and crackled in the background. “My mother can speak some English and French, but she feels shy,” de Canaga explained. The conversation soon shifted to where to shop for white poppy seeds in Paris.

Pushpa’s reservation-only table d’hôte meals, which she hosts at her tastefully done home in a quiet, lush neighbourhood near the backwaters of Puducherry, are carefully curated to showcase the region’s own brand of Creole cuisine, which is fast disappearing from the city’s restaurants. The food is served on banana leaves and eating with hands is encouraged. Pushpa also offers cooking demonstrations, on request, at an additional charge.


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