'I, Sir, am a Guyanese!'
By Festus L. Brotherson, Jr.
HOW the human mind molds self-identity makes for a fascinating study that reveals paradoxes, idealism and only occasional pragmatism. In ancient times, respect was compelled and granted travellers who could pridefully declare with stiffened bosom, "I, Sir, am a Roman!" In modern day world affairs, even though international sensitivities have heightened to the level where such braggadocio is "politically incorrect" - given the doubled-edged sword of patriotism in a world of heavy, unstoppable cultural intermingling - there were and still are parallels to the Roman tradition. For most of the 20th Century, in the rule Britannia era and beyond, a native-born British citizen, invoking the `stiff upper lip' profile, would declare his nationality and be sure most times of a flurry of respectful responses that opened bureaucratic and other doors more easily. The same is true for Israeli citizens and for citizens of Cuba; although the latter claim might evoke dissent about my opinion. But by far, the best example of raw power this type of self-identity taps is for citizens of the United States of America. In most countries, they do not even have to present a US passport. A driver's licensee suffices. Why? Tourist dollars are craved. Hopes heighten that befriending an American would lead to easier emigration. Some people also seek to create an economic life line by occasional supply of US dollars. These are some of the reasons. However, the power of the state to which the citizen belongs and that state's ability to flex its muscles is perhaps the overwhelming one. What the examples of countries have in common is the deep respect they enjoy in the international community for a variety of accomplishments that make their citizens proud to identify themselves with their state of birth and country of residence; even if at times the respect is begrudgingly given. Over time, cinematic art has dramatised the need for those in the advanced world to curb arrogance that effervescent nationalism can spark. Classics like Gandhi and The Battle of Algiers have effectively made the case for natives of Britain and France to see how others view them. One of the best in the tradition of effective humorous criticism is from Horace Miner in his 1959 classic essay, `Body Ritual of the Nacirema.' But what are paradoxes of citizens' eagerness to identify with their state or country? In his book `Power and Choice', W. Phillips Shively argues that the tendency "does not really make much sense." He finds that most people in a foreign land, when suddenly asked what or who they are, tend to `go national.' Typical responses are overwhelmingly of national origin as in, "I am a Guyanese," or "I am German,", etc., whereas it would be more pragmatic and more helpful if one responded by profession, religion, and so on. The latter tell more about a person and his personality than nationality. Says Shively, this paradoxical behaviour "is a result not of logic, but of our modern fixation with the state." Another paradox of national identity is to be found in democratic elections in most LARGE states. The national election of a political leader seizes attention more easily than local elections because people identify so much with the nation state. However, a single voter has virtually no chance of definitively determining the outcome of a national election in such states. In Walden Two, one of the author's characters insightfully laments, "The chance that one man's vote will decide the issue in a national election is less than the chance that he will be killed on his way to the polls." On the other hand, an individual is more likely to affect local elections which deal with readily identifiable issues like crime, jobs, parking, and schools. But such elections draw the lowest voter turnout! Nonetheless, democracy works just fine in large democratic countries and this fact is further tantalising and deserving of deeper analysis at a later time. For citizens from small states like Guyana, and who now reside in large democratic ones like the USA, the tendency to say "I, sir, am a Guyanese," remains very strong. The results of such inspired identification include headaches at times and unflattering realisation most of the time about life in the wider international arena. Saying, "I am from Guyana," prompts even more questions like: "Where is that - Africa?" More bruising to the ego is this typical response: "Oh! That's where the Jonestown thing happened." This is in reference to the infamous Jim Jones who led hundreds of Americans to commit suicide in 1978. We persevere, though, in the hope that somehow, some way, one day, when we say, "I, Sir, am a Guyanese," the response will be flattering enough to open doors more easily. This would bring to reality the powerful sentiments of Sir Walter Scott's celebration of patriotism in "Lay of the Last Minstrel" that we learnt while growing up Guyana: "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, as home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand!
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