Groundviews

Potato Farmer’s Anthropology Research: Part 1

I have taken up anthropology. It is I, your potato farmer. In previous posts, I told you the story of my farm, my trial and my poultry venture. I now want to study the differences between the T-tribe and the S-tribe in our island paradise, in order to answer a fundamental question about genetics and behavior.

Experts say that the genomic variation within members of either tribe is as high as that across. The technology of DNA sequencing was unknown to the authors of our History 101 texts, MV and YVM, from which our tribal elders often quote, to drive up our blood pressures and make us vote for them. Because of our overindulgence in these classics, we have failed to notice the scientific advances taking place around us, miserably failing, for example, to take part in the fantastic technological developments in neighboring India – the Bangalore phenomenon, though we had an advantageous starting point in terms of education (C.W.W. Kannangara, turn in your grave). They trained their youth to do high tech stuff, from insurance selling in call centers to writing reliable software for safety critical aircraft control systems. We killed ours.

At the genome level, we should remind ourselves that the chromosomal left-over of our ancestors are well integrated. Hence making a case for tribal purity and indigenous occupancy, hence land ownership, as many unashamedly do even in this forum, is nothing more than arguing for closer evolutionary proximity to our cousins, the chimps.

Those knowledgeable in Systems Biology tell me that variation in the genome is not the whole story. Epigenetics has to be considered. Control of when and where a gene is turned on amplifies differences in the genome, so that the phenotypes (forms and behaviors) can vary much more. They have concluded thus, by comparing the degree to which gene expressions differ between organisms: Mouse, chimpanzee and human. Humans, though we share much of our genes with these lower cousins, differ a lot in which genes are expressed, and when, in different parts of the body. Specifically, if we compare ourselves to the chimp, we differ a lot in the brain and — “thank God”, you say — testicles.

So I want to explore this genome-similar-behavior-different paradox. Behavioral differences, after all, are what made us fight, over thirty years, killing some 100,000 fellow inhabitants, often in brutal ways. I, like most of you, had nothing to do with this carnage and take no share of the guilt. What about our national shame? Should I not, as citizen, acknowledge a share in it?

As genetics seems to fail, anthropology is the way forward.

First, I must put aside my prejudice: Anthropology is about observing some remote tribe (usually black and poor), by a university researcher (usually white and rich), who, based on short field work amongst the tribe, concludes: “Look, they are a bit like us!”  To understand the limitations of this game, do the following thought experiment: Imagine my grandmother, from a remote village in the north of Sri Lanka – no running water, no electricity and a childhood existence just above poverty lines — gaining an academic appointment in anthropology at her local university, and being sent to do field work in Scotland with the MacDonald tribe. She would have found their eating, drinking and mating habits odd and amusing, documented them meticulously, and published scholarly papers, but can we be confident that she would have discovered what was under the Scotsman’s kilt?

I arrive in Colombo, accompanied by my potato-wife and potato-kid to organize my field work. As I was filling in the immigration form, the kid comments: “Dad, you are going to be half a century old!” (The boy has been reading Asterix comics.) “You must be really sad, watching your balding head in the mirror every day”, the kid irritates. “And his payasam belly”, my potato-wife rubs it in.

“With age come wisdom and other goodies. Learn to be positive”, I reply, rock-solid in optimism. Now, I must tell you that I am an incredible optimist. For example, I have never been more optimistic about the future of my country than at present.

Of the present times, you readers are cynical: You worry about the large numbers that perished when bulldozers moved in on softened targets, you are impatient to see post conflict peace-making progressing like a CTB bus through Borella traffic, at the other end of the speed scale you find rapid formations and collapses of unworthy alliances that expose the intellectual vacuum in our politics, corruption you encounter is of astronomical scale and has caught up with our big sub-continental neighbor, value systems in society have plummeted and Gods don’t seem to intervene, you sometimes wonder if what you are living in is a multi-racial or a multi-racist society, rich people you come across are ever so richer and the poor have been further pushed to the other extreme.

Young amongst you think that time is right for a socialist revolution. Yes, at the age of 20, I thought so too. But a wise man cautioned me, quoting Churchill: “If you are not a socialist at 20, you don’t have a heart; if you are still a socialist at 40, you don’t have a brain”.

Yet, it was a stewardess in the Sri Lankan flight who gave me ammunition for my present optimism: In the departure lounge at Heathrow, I do some statistics. A third of the passengers are Caucasian European, I observe. The remainder equally split between our T and S tribes. S/T detection is easy with technology – just eavesdrop on their mobile phone conversations for a few milliseconds.

We stop at Male’ and majority of the Europeans get off. For sun and sea, they need not come any further. Their governments have warned against travel to our parts. So they get sun-burnt in Male’ instead. “Lost revenue for us”, I mention to the stewardess and ask if that was the pattern, or just a freak measurement on that day.

“Eka problem ekak nae, Sir” (it is not a problem, Sir), she dismisses, not bothered about the economic impact of Europeans keeping away. “Some are still coming once in a while.” And then she gives me the real meat of her data, the climax treat for the statistician in me: “Now lot of Tamil people also coming, no?”

I invite you to do the back-of-the-envelope calculations this smart lady has done. Number of visits per person, times number of people visiting, times the money spent, plus investment in property. Compare it to the reduction in revenue, were we to lose GSP+. It will be your “Eureka!” moment, I assure you.

What would you do, if you were policy maker? Go around European Capitals with a begging bowl? Or build air-conditioned hotels in Jaffna and run the annual Nallur festival three times a year? — “You savvy?” (I have been reading the boy’s Asterix comics.)

Back to the potato-kid: “What is positive about being so old?” he mocks. “Well, I’m just ten years away from getting free bus-pass!” That shuts him up.

At the foot of Hantana hills, amongst a scholarly community living on the banks of the Mahaveli, I have set up three experiments to solve my genome-similar-behavior-different paradox: Appearance, art and arithmetic, the three A’s of anthropology.

…to be continued.

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