A cure for bigotry, anyone?

Born in Dhaka, raised in Tehran -- growing up in a residential complex with neighbours from across the world and attending an international school, I have experienced my share of multi-culturalism, political heterogeneity, and, to a more limited extent, religious pluralism. One might expect, spending my time with playmates from Nigeria, Bosnia, Afghanistan, Iran, along with a bunch of other nations, sharing a classroom with Turks, Pakistanis, Sri Lankans, to name a few of the nationalities, my former school had enlightened me with profound wisdom and nuanced understanding of differing cultures. It had not. For I am not all the wiser about Buddhism and Dharma Chakra, for having a best friend who happened to be Buddhist, nor do I know an awful lot about Jehovah’s witnesses for having another friend subscribing to their belief. The thing is, it mattered not. When it came to a game of football in our backyard or typical hangout, none of this were a decisive factor. We all pretty much kicked the ball in the same way irrespective of our nationality and laughed in the same manner, and, in our angst, shed the very same tears and when it came down to it, cussed like every other person. It is not to say there was no instance of animated discussion on divisive topics -- be it on the legality of capital punishment, delivering a verdict on the current Iranian regime, or the much more serious issue of what slogan one must sing, “Forca Barca” or “Hala Madrid.” But, in those rare instances of blood-boiling and passionate polemics, our relationships survived unscathed. Hence, we are all the same underneath, a mere statement of fact to most was a visceral experience for me.

Empathy is not a cerebral trait, it is an emotional one. To instill it, the cold statements of facts alone won’t do. One needs to toil, laugh, and cry alongside men and women of different skin colour, race, and religion to harness it

I credit these experiences in my formative years for my global perspective today, one immunised against racist rhetoric and buttressed on tolerance. And therein lies my point. Empathy is not a cerebral trait, it is an emotional one. To instill it, the cold statements of facts alone won’t do. One needs to toil, laugh, and cry alongside men and women of different skin colour, race, and religion to harness it. So there you go, we do seem to have a cure for bigotry. Now, the issue is how to deliver it. Because, you know, changing the demographic of one’s locality is a nigh impossible task, nor is it practical to move in to such places. So, when we have limitations to what could be possibly experienced, we can turn to fiction, art, literature, and media. All of them allow us to transcend practical boundaries: To travel to worlds that never were, see things from perspectives our upbringing and culture don’t allow us to, and learn of the struggles and glories of a people we seldom think of. These mediums too played a role in sculpting my worldview and further strengthening my inclusivity. Gorging on books with the savage glee of a bibliophile, I got to see the humanised representation of many characters seldom seen in my own life, or at least hear what they have to say unfiltered by cultural bias. And this is exactly why I, though never having read a comic book, applaud Marvel for its decision to certifying Lunella Lafayette, an African American who takes up the alias of Moon Girl, as the most intelligent character in its Earth 616 universe and casting a Pakistani American, Kamala Khan, as the new Ms Marvel. Also worthy of applause of Rick Riordan’s decision to feature a diverse cast for his bestseller series: The Heroes of Olympus, Kane Chronicles, The Trials of Apollo and Magnus Chase, and The Gods of Asgard. I have no qualms over the fact that Hermione’s role in Harry Potter and The Cursed Child was given to Noma Demezweni, which went against fans’ assumption that the said character absolutely needs to be white, and I salute JK Rowling for giving her blessings for this choice. Nor should the naysayers frown at the assumed futility of what Marvel, Rick, or Rowling are doing. The Pulitzer Prize winning writer and the venerated scholar Steven Pinker, in his book The Better Angels of Ourselves, tells of the decline of violence in modern times and identifies six different historic trends: The pacification process, the civilising process, the humanitarian revolution, long peace, new peace, and the rights revolutions. Humanitarian revolution is the term the author uses for the first organised movements to abolish socially-sanctioned forms of violence like despotism, slavery, dueling, judicial torture, etc, in Europe in the 17th and 18th century, and rights revolution is what the author calls the recognition of rights of women, ethnic minorities, and the LGBT community in the 20th century. Steven Pinker strongly suggests that the rise of enlightenment values and humanitarian reforms that happened almost immediately after the technological innovations in book publishing, increasing popularity of novels and epistolary novels, increasing literacy, were not just a mere coincidence. In rights revolution, he singles out the technologies that allowed for greater mobility of ideas -- say television broadcasting and the internet -- and points out to the substantial increase in book publishing. Perhaps better literacy and even greater representation of ethnic minorities and fringe members of society was all we would have needed to avert the unsavoury Trump situation.