Continued from Previous Page
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).