Letters from Portugal: No dia 24, não vou trabalhar

Reports tell us that the protest in Lisbon on 15 October, as part of the Global Day of Protest was one of the largest demonstrations in the world on that day. This is in fact quite surprising for a country that, since the upheaval around the 25 of April 1974, has not been marked by grand demonstrations.  But then today the Portuguese have much to be afraid for; the consumerist paradise that was constructed in the years following their entry into the European Union seems to be falling apart with every passing day. Not a day passes when we are not informed that there are to be more cuts on social spending, that taxes have increased, and the Christmas bonus that is normally handed out will be culled. 

Eavesdropping on a conversation brought home the realization, that in a country marked by low salaries, the Christmas bonus, which amounts to the salary of a whole extra month, is very often the key to balancing basic household expenditures. Minus this bonus a good many homes will fall into very serious economic crises. Add to this, the general privatization of the economy and the sale of public assets. But, as if to add insult to injury are the suggestions that emanate from the Prime Ministerial Office that in the city of Lisbon, there are plans to curtail the hours of the metro system so that it stops even before midnight. This suggestion was responded to by one Portuguese person, as sending the message to the people that the role that the State had decided to play, was to only to ensure that the population could get to work. Beyond this limited objective, where the citizens are now seen as the route through which the State will pay off a debt, the State under the new leadership seems committed to abdicating its responsibilities.

It is for these reasons that the Portuguese landed up, from the leftist radicals, members of Catholic religious orders, and members of the comfortably placed Portuguese middle-class, to make their displeasure obvious. It was a heady experience, this sense of revolution; this boy getting up on one of the stone lions that sits guard before the Assembleia da República and burning a newspaper carrying the statement of the Prime Minister, the stand-off between the police and the people, and the general assembly of the people that followed. This general assembly saw divergent groups make their position, from the black boy who pointed out that it wasn’t, or it could not be just a ‘white’ thing, but the rights of the blacks in Portugal needed to be counted as well; to the person who pointed out that underneath the uniform they wore, the police-persons were their brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts. They may stand as a force between us and the Assembleia, but they would suffer the say cuts as those on the other side of that line. And then there were those leftist radicals (one has to love them for the sense of symbolic drama they bring to any demonstration), who urged an occupation of the Assembleia. 

In the course of this public assembly emerged a voice demanding a ‘Greve Geral’, a general strike of the population of Portugal, attempting a complete paralysis of the system, indicating how widely unpopular the budgetary cuts and other fiscal interventions were. This move was, as is to be expected, widely popular at the public assembly, and has been growing in strength, with various unions pledging their support to this general strike, and public discourse and discussion around the benefits of the strike growing. How effective this strike, scheduled for the 24 day of this month, will be in paralyzing the country, and in forcing some sort of rethink of the position this country finds itself in, remains to be seen.

It was under these circumstances that a little Facebook movement, called ‘Trabalhar’, popped up. The strap-line to this title read ‘No dia 24, eu vou trabalhar’ (on the 24^th I will go to work). This ‘movement’ suggests that “Portugal is in an emergency, a situation brought about by the previous government. A general strike would work only to further harm the economy and send a negative signal to the outside world. On the 24 November, I will go to work, just as I do on other days”.

What is amusing about this little ‘movement’ is that like the comment on the decision to curtail the working hours of the Lisbon Metro, it has latched onto work. It seems to suggest that all that is at issue here, is about getting to work, as if hard work is lacking in the country, and it is hard work that will resolve the issues of this country. Nothing could be further from the truth. If there is a truth about Portugal’s current crisis, it is that as was famously pointed out by Alessio Rastani in that famous interview with the BBC, it is not governments that rule the world, but rogue financial institutions that rule the world through their speculative actions. To make the strike on the 24^th about working or not working then, is to deliberately obfuscate a significant point.

A good look at Portugal would cure us of the fantasy that the trivializing of larger issues to petty party politics is the unique curse of our country. Here a situation, where the governance is effectively in foreign hands, is being further compromised, not through a strike that could call for a general reckoning, but by making the issue of party politics, and viewing the whole situation from the narrow perspective of the country’s financially secure groups. Furthermore, what the general strike would prove is also that life is not about work alone. On the contrary, we work, only because we want to live. It is a shame that we are being made to apologize when we assert this right to not live by bread alone.

(A version of this post was first published in O Heraldo 13 Nov 2011)

Letters from Portugal: The Chinese in Lisbon

Some months ago this epistolary series made reference to an underground Chinese restaurant in the vicinity of Lisbon’s Praça Martim Moniz. The experience was so grittily unappealing that it is only in the best interests of the reader that the experience that ought to have been a hipster’s fantasy adventure is not repeated on the pages of this newspaper.

The Chinese in Lisbon however are the source of a number of interesting stories. Ubiquitous in urban Portugal, the Chinese shops, the Lojas dos Chineses, are invariably large stores that host all varieties of goods, ranging from electronics, shoes, umbrellas, kitchen utensils and underwear. Given that these stores, not surprisingly, also offer the cheapest prices for similar quality goods, they are also the first option for those looking for the cheapest option. Judging from the snazzy canvas shoes a friend was displaying the other day, these stores may not necessarily be lacking in style either.

Speak to some Portuguese and they will tell you that the Chinese presence in Portugal is not related to the handing over of Macau, and nor was it a slow growth of a community. It was more like a big bang. One day they weren’t there, and the next day, there were Chinese all over the country. This sudden presence has not come without observation in Portuguese society, some offering a suggestion that this presence, and the rumour that the Lojas dos Chineses pay a lower tax rate, is linked to the investments of the Republic of China in the Portuguese economy. Some of the best stories however, are linked to the restaurants that the Chinese run.

There used to be a time, the story goes, when Lisbon was full of Chinese restaurants, and then one fine day, they all began to shut down. This closure was only temporary however. These restaurants soon re-opened with a new décor, and cuisine. The formerly Chinese restaurants were now Japanese, serving among other things, a cheaper sushi-dining option.

The change occurred, if one is to believe the rumour, after people started getting sick from eating at these Chinese restaurants. Their popularity plummeted drastically. An alternate version is that some over-enthusiastic health and hygiene inspector started targeting the Chinese restaurants, and rather than risk going under the block, they voluntarily shut down and re-opened under a new guise.

One can’t help but imagine, in this context, that there is a certain attempt at dissimulation that the Chinese are attempting, a certain turning of the Orientalist tables on ‘the white people’. It is as if the Chinese decided that since all ‘Oriental’ people look the same to the white-eyes, they might as well pull a fast one on the presumably none-too-sharp Portuguese customers.

The wickedest story about these restaurants however is tied straight to the presence of this large community and the anxiety it must create in some Portuguese. The story goes that till date, there have been no Chinese people buried in the local cemeteries or otherwise consigned to the elements. There are similar stories of the Vietnamese population in Warsaw. The rumours in Warsaw are that the dead are covertly buried and their papers are used to support new ‘illegal’ entrants into the community. The reasons the Chinese in Lisbon apparently give, is that they send their dead back to China for burial. The version some wicked Portuguese peddle however, is that the dead, end up in… the Chinese restaurants!

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo 4 Sept 2011)

Letters from Portugal: Portugal and the Prophet

Many months ago this column commenced suggesting that it was perhaps not necessary for us, as Goans and South Asians, to look solely to a reliving of the colonial past to forge a relationship with Portugal. While acknowledging the colonial past that ties us together, one can explore the contours of a contemporary relationship by looking at features of Portugal that speak to a common experiences and circumstances.

One of these circumstances it appears, is the rather unlikely counter of Islam. True we are all aware that Portugal once had Moorish sovereigns and has imbibed a substantial Arab heritage that lies under the surface of the Portuguese cultural tapestry. We are perhaps less aware that in recent times, Iran has ‘discovered’ the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima. Connecting the names of the location (Fatima), and the miraculous appearance of a Lady; to the Islamic and specifically Shia history, of Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet; Iran encourages pilgrimages to the same site normally venerated by Catholics alone. In Her own right however, Mary as the mother of Christ, enjoys reverence in the Islamic tradition.

Another thread in this Islamicate link however emerged in conversation with a young monarchist in Lisbon. Portugal, he believed, should cease to be a republic, and return to being a monarchy. Elaborating why a return to the monarchy was a good idea, he suggested that having the head of the House of Bragança as Head of State would allow Portugal a special relationship with Muslim countries, given the Duke of Bragança’s claim, apparently recognized in North Africa, of descent from the Prophet Mohammed. This claim would make the Duke of Bragança, like groups of Muslims across the world, a Sayyid.

As per the telling of this claim to Sayyid status, Dom Duarte is descended, as are a small number of other Portuguese, including the young monarchist recounting this tale to me, from Saint Queen Isabel. Queen Isabel, one of the early Queens of Portugal, was elevated to Sainthood, thanks to her leading a virtuous and prayerful life, being a peacemaker, and doing so consistently enough to be a model to others. The process of canonizing Rainha Isabel, however took an undue amount of time, given the serious obstacle her lineage provided. Queen Isabel was said to have descended from the Prophet. Happily however, these obstacles were resolved, allowing us to claim a descendant of the Prophet among the pantheon of Catholic saints, and continuing a happy give and take among Father Abraham’s spiritual family.

There are a number of problems with this story. The claims to Sayyid status, even among those who have been Muslims a long time, is merely that, a claim, that may not possibly stand up to scientific scrutiny. Furthermore, it appears that Queen Isabel’s lineage derives from the Moorish sultans of Iberia, none of whom (save the Fatimid Caliph) were apparently descended from the Prophet. Nonetheless, claims, stories and myths are the basis of what allow us to see strangers as brothers, and foreign lands as (also) home(s). Take the Saraswat migration, and conversion from Hinduism, myths that allow so many Goan Hindu and Catholics to see themselves as brothers, despite existence of scientific facts to the contrary.

Our common Islamicate heritage it appears, allows us to formulate alternate bases for the manner in which we in South Asia forge a relationship with Portugal, as well as the manner in which the Portuguese can imagine themselves.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo 24 July 2011)

Letters from Portugal X: Ego Sum Panis Vivus

To view the Portuguese Parliament, the Assembleia da República is a wondrous thing. This building emerges, like a huge ant-hill, from right within the middle of a regular residential neighborhood. There are no high walls, no barricades, battalions of guards restricting your experience of the exterior of the building. One minute you are ambling through the streets of the São Bento neighborhood, and the next minute you are smack in front of this national edifice. Indeed, one can walk right up to the main façade of the building and not be interfered with by the largely ceremonial guards standing at the entrance.

For a South Asian, this is a unique experience. For not only is the procedural seat of democracy, however flawed it may be, located right among the people it represents, but it is also unmediated by unnecessary security. Security in South Asia, is unfortunately a testament to the certain lack of trust in the citizenry by the government, a sign that something is not quite right. As a Goan, this arrangement is actually a reminder of happier days, when our Legislative Assembly was similarly located in Panjim, amongst the people it represented.

A Portuguese friend once grumbled that the location of the Parliament saying it allowed people no space to protest against the Government. The roads around the Parliament restricted the space and amount of protestors. While this may be true, a recent incident demonstrated how innovative protest can in fact make its point in such a situation.

Some months ago, faced with the looming financial crisis, the Portuguese government raised the VAT on a number of products, including bread – the most basic of all foods. Simultaneously however, it reduced the VAT on golfing drastically. While seemingly bizarre and insensitive this action was possessed of an internal logic. Golfing holidays brought in 500 million euros to the Portuguese economy in the year 2009, persuading the Government that reducing the VAT would encourage more golfers to holiday in Portugal.

This act however, drew the ire of a number; resulting in a rather innovative protest. Apparently designed so it could be recorded and transmitted to a larger audience, the protest is available online at http://vimeo.com/21415500. Choreographed to the music from the motet ‘Ego Sum Panis Vivus’ (I am the Bread of Life) by Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, the video shows a young man attired for golf, walk up the steps to the front of the Parliament, place a loaf of bread in front of it, and then swing his club, shooting the bread toward the Parliament. Having done so, he calmly collects his bag of golf clubs and leaves the scene of protest.

Returning to this focus on security, what is so interesting is that the guards at the entrance did not stop the man, calling their supervisors only after they saw this man shoot the bread toward the building. By the time the supervisors arrived it was too late, and the video shows them standing there, being briefed about the action. The video seems to mock the security apparatus around the Parliament. But perhaps these young Portuguese protestors seem to miss the point. The drama of their protest was enabled precisely by the relaxed security around the building. To mock this situation is to demand for the suffocating security that marks official buildings, and thus their democracies across much of the world. But then, we never know, until much later, what to be thankful for.

(A version of this post was first published in the Oheraldo 12 June 2011)