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Video and Television

Introducing Indians to video also means introducing them to kid-vid star Xuxa, Rambo, and the sexy, gory, sentimental private worlds of Brazilian novelas, or soap operas. The "contamination" of traditional culture and the willy-nilly adoption of "Western" expression have long been a concern (Faris 1992) and continues to be a roiling point of debate among anthropologists and critics (Rival 1992). Indigenous Brazilian producers and leaders have not typically shown such anxieties. Anthropologist Faye Ginsburg has sensibly argued that video can work productively to foster cultural self-consciousness and strengthen interest in cultural autonomy (Ginsburg 1991), an assertion that well matches the experience of Video in the Villages.

Carelli notes that getting control of their own media image has been a constant desire of indigenous groups for as long as he has been working with them: "They are bombarded by journalists and photographers who exploited them and never even send them a copy of the photo in return." He has noted as well that video is only the latest technology that Indians have fought to get access to; Indian groups have long struggled to control the short-wave radio system installed by the government in the reserves (CTI 1993, 8). Furthermore, many Indian groups, such as the Gavião, are already being barraged by Brazilian television; some, such as the Rambo-loving Kokrenum, appear to be able to juggle the two kinds of use as adeptly as anyone.

Getting video equipment means getting access to national culture even if Indians were not plugged in before, and Indians have seized on the chance to rig antennas and receive satellite signals. Without doubt, this experience also affects their culture. For instance, one Xavante group, with the arrival of an antenna, must now decide whether and, if so, how, to control access to commercial programming.

Carelli sees a clear difference between groups that have commercial TV and those that don’t. He sees it among young people, whose values tend to be more individualistic among the TV watchers, and also in film language. The TV watchers absorb the rhythm and style of commercial TV and have a better grasp of the language of outsiders. But he does not worry about his video work contributing to cultural decay:

I think it’s ridiculous to worry about this — they are in contact with everything from our culture. There is no way for them to avoid it. They watch soap operas; the Kayapo have satellite dishes; the Gavião already have thirty televisions. It has an enormous impact on young people, on their values.

Our work is contrapuntal to this. They’ll see Rambo no matter what we do. We don’t need to patrol them. But we need to give them something to make themselves and their own culture strong in contrast to it.

This corresponds with the experience of Australian media activist Philip Batty, who argues that "resistance" to global TV "can only be accomplished in any effective way, by gaining an active if basic knowledge of television technology, and applying that knowledge in locally relevant and meaningful ways" (in Ginsburg 1993, 570).

Video and Traditional Attitudes toward Image

What do the processes of filming and viewing their own and other Indians’ cultural events mean to Indians? Carelli and others in the Video in the Villages project have found that each group incorporates and interprets the process differently. As well, familiarity with the form changes attitudes. For instance, the sacred flutes of the Enaunê-Nauê, which women may not see in real life, could be filmed and their images shown in the center of the village because they believe that the spirits that are attracted by the sound of the flutes and that can threaten the women were not present at the time of the projection.

For the Waiãpi, the image not only reproduces but materializes the vital force of the represented people and objects. For this reason, when a video was shown to a family watching its own image for the first time, it was seen as a duplication of forces, which could threaten them and which led them to paint themselves with the red vegetable dye achiote to protect themselves. The Waiãpi made it very clear that anything about shamanism must not be filmed, since it dealt with very dangerous knowledge reserved for the initiated (CTI 1993, 10).

Anthropologist Dominique Gallois also noted that the Waiãpi distinguish between symbols that do not "bear life elements of the being represented," and the likeness that photography and video bring. During some initial screenings, women were shielded from the screen by a young shaman (Gallois and Carelli n.d.). When a related group of Waiãpi from French Guiana, already familiar with photographic realism and television, came to visit and scoffed at this kind of behavior, "some Waiãpi . . . concluded that they would ‘get used to’ the presence of TV" (Gallois and Carelli n.d.).

The meaning of sharing one’s own video record with others also varies with different groups. The Waiãpi exercise a strict principle of exchange, showing their videos only to people who they have "met" by video, while among the Xikrin and Xavante, chiefs must negotiate directly with each other over showings (CTI 1993, 14).

Aesthetics of Indigenous Video

The stylistic and expressive options chosen in this highly visual medium, by people who do not necessarily share the aesthetic conventions of the dominant society, says as much about the dominant society’s assumptions about the form as it does about the indigenous use of the medium.

The experience of Video in the Villages suggests that, as with the above issue, neat generalizations are difficult to make. Nonetheless, Carelli easily admits, "Our intervention is decisive. My presence alone is a huge influence. An indigenous person’s camera begins working through a long intervention." Although he has participated in, and accompanied Indians to, events showcasing their video work, he also finds such activity problematic. He worries especially about Indians making a video career, rather than cultural renewal, their goal.

Carelli has found that the Indians he has worked with usually resist editing of the kind he uses in the center’s documentaries. They prize long, uninterrupted sequences and assemblage that closely follows events. There are a variety of reasons, he believes, for these choices. As in any home movie, each element of the event is likely to be interesting to some member of the group. As well, in this region the beauty of a ceremony is often measured, at least in part, by its completeness in detail and by repetition.

Indians carefully discriminate between audiences, both as producers and viewers. As is clear in Terence Turner’s work with the Kayapo, they clearly can and do learn different editing styles (Turner 1992). But in the Video in the Villages projects they have usually emphasized their most immediate audience. Carelli recalls a discussion with a young Xavante who worked with the CTI team editing images from a male initiation ritual. When asked about his target audience, he said that all of the raw material was intended for the village, while the edit was designed "for the outside public, for whites, and other Indians." The ritual involved five social groups repeating each segment, and Carelli suggested editing to allude to the repetition. But the Xavante resisted this, even for "outsiders," for fear that his own group would accuse him of not knowing how the ritual was supposed to be done or that other groups would not believe they did it correctly. "Although the video supposedly was for an outside public, in fact, he never managed, at any moment, to free himself from the inner view," noted Carelli (CTI 1993, 12).

Carelli believes that his own tapes — such as those discussed here — are essentially a different project from that of Indians making their tapes. In the latter case, he says, "We work more with the idea of just ‘cleaning up’ the material and making the exhibitor’s work easier, grouping together the parts best liked by the local audience" (CTI 1993, 12). He also sees that Indians who have more familiarity with Brazilian and U.S. television adapt their visual styles to it, and he believes that indigenous work is evolving unpredictably.

The Internal Politics of Video

As Terence Turner has eloquently discussed (Turner 1991) and as others practicing technical assistance in video know well, decisions about how and with whom to work involve the technicians in complicated political dynamics.

In terms of selecting sites, Video in the Villages typically works with groups with whom Carelli or others already have a relationship or have established one as a result of relationships with other groups. In a few cases, such as the Xavante, Indian groups sought out the project. Carelli limits the project’s obligations, since its infrastructure is small, and he will not work with groups whose leadership is contested or whose political internal organization is not relatively stable (Carelli 1993). Carelli accepts that

leaders perceive from the very first moment the importance of exercising their control over this image, as much at the level of internal circulation as in the projection of the group’s image outside. They incorporate video into their own political and cultural projects. (CTI 1993, 13)

Since Carelli’s objective is to foster cultural integrity and since he perceives strong leadership as important to that project, this is not an ideological problem for him. It does, however, pose some practical difficulties. For instance, he works and must work with the young people selected by the leadership, not necessarily those most interested or adept. He also accepts that their dream of having Indians share video knowledge throughout their community is "utopian": "The one in charge never relinquishes his privilege and doesn’t cede the camera to anyone" (CTI 1993, 13). He accepts that unforeseen political consequences can occur, for instance, when the Waiãpi became fascinated with the political rhetoric of rivals to Chief Wai Wai (Gallois and Carelli n.d.).

Indians and Mass Media

One of the most common reactions to the tapes Carelli has made to explain his work has been amazement that Indians can analyze the power of the media, want to participate in that power, and have explicit, concrete ideas about how to deploy it. This may sometimes appear quaint, crude, or touching to the viewer, for instance, when Chief Wai Wai worries about showing the group in a drunken state for fear that landowners will see that they are vulnerable. Or it may appear forthrightly practical, as when Kokrenum says of a descendant watching the tape, "He will watch and say, ‘I know now how to do it.’" But there is no doubt that Indians grasp the power of representation and misrepresentation. The canny use of "savage Indian" stereotypes in the media by groups such as the Xavante and the Kayapo (imitated eagerly by Chief Wai Wai and others) highlights that awareness and indeed plays on their perception of others’ naïveté. What may ultimately be most interesting about this amazement that Indians have their own analysis of media is its striking evidence of ignorance about Indian contact with mass media, which has been — as Carelli is at pains to point out — perforce a part of most of their lives.

Revitalization and Video

The experience of Video in the Villages reminds us at every point that indigenous cultures incorporate video into complex, distinctive cultural and political patterns. Uses of video have ranged from home movies for the village to circulation of tapes between cultures to strategic use of clips in press conferences and political meetings. Styles have differed depending on a group’s cultural expectations and on audiences. The tapes discussed here have documented some of the processes and results in order to demonstrate — most immediately to potential allies of CTI in the effort to maintain the project — that such video use helps indigenous peoples revitalize their traditional cultures.

- Pat Aufderheide is a professor in the School of Communication at American University and a senior editor of In These Times newspaper. A Guggenheim and Fulbright Fellow, she is a prolific writer on cultural affairs and the author, most recently, of "The Daily Planet: A Critic on the Capitalist Culture Beat" (University of Minnesota Press, 2000).

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