(A version of this story appered in the Malay Mail on the the 6th of November.)
The French are disputing English accounts of the Battle of Agincourt of 1415. The English version has 6000 men (mainly archers) defeating a French Army of 30,000. Not quite, say the French, backing their argument with historical evidence. They are probably right, but then they are French.Shakespeare immortalised that battle in 1599 in Henry V; it was too romantic not to. The battle has been described as England's 'finest hour'. But it was the bard who fire up the imagination of the people with his version of the story, truth be damned, and brought new glory to distant history. Shakespeare was no prophet, nor saint, nor historian, nor anything. He was only a storyteller, but helluva good one. He was at the (or was the) epicentre of the English renaissance and, probably, indirectly responsible for 400 years of world domination by his countrymen. Well, like journalists like to say: never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
It is not news that, of all the creatures in the world, we are the strangest. We eat and sleep and breathe and so on like all the rest, but one thing we do that none of the other creatures (are known to) do, is tell stories to one another. We need to tell and listen to stories every waking moment of our lives, be it on the telephone, radio, television, movies, newspapers, magazines, books or at the tea shop. We gossip, blog, report, write, dance, sing, and act out stories. We can never stop even if we try. We can go without a few meals. (During famines they will not have much to eat but they will keep alive by telling one another stories of hope, of spirit, of faith.) Our stories will be true, false, good, bad, exhilarating, depressing, funny, sad, tragic, magic ... anything. Most will be forgotten, but some will stick and become part of our culture, our ethos, our claim to human-ness. (I will leave the 'what, how, where and why' arguments to the anthropologists.)
There was a story in the newspapers not too long ago from India about the Sethusamudram Shipping Canal Project. Adam's Bridge (or Rama's Bridge or Rama Sethu) is a shallow chain of limestone shoals between India and Sri Lanka. The Indian government approved the project in 2001, but to date no work has started due to economic, environmental and religious arguments. The government can use all their scientists and argue until they are blue in the face, but they are not going to win the last one. According to the Ramayana, Hanuman and his monkey hoard built it. Period. Some researchers say that Rama was a god worshipped in Babylon and Egypt, and that he is mentioned in the Epic of Gilgamesh, that by the time Valmiki wrote down his version 2500 years ago, his story was already several centuries (if not millenniums) old. Of the over 300 known versions of the Ramayana, Valmiki's is the most popular and the most romantic. What can mere logic do in the face of such a good story, of such a romance?
Storytelling is such a potent force that it is not surprising that forces have existed throughout history to control it. During the Inquisition, the clergy demanded absolute control of the media, and literacy was actually illegal. People were put to death in the most terrible ways if it was found out (or suspected, or rumoured) that they could read. The church controlled the Word and all interpretations of it absolutely. The people of Europe paid a horrifying price for freedom of information. In ancient India, it was the Brahmins, who started of as minstrels singing the praises of their kings, who saw the power in the monopoly of knowledge. The myth of the battle between 300 Spartans against the Persians still influences East-West relationships and dialogue, that people of the East are an inferior people.
It is not surprising that many rich countries 'steal' cultural talent from poorer ones, and not just for tourism promotion. Stories make nations, and nations make stories. They are part of the blood that runs through our veins; they live in our genes; they create our memes. We may not like some of it but the alternatives, of letting one small group decide for everyone, for a one size fits all solution, are frightening.
Let's leave the Middle Ages where we left it, 500 years ago.
