On the one hand, Slumdog Millionaire is all about 
Dharavi, the vast slum district in the
middle of Mumbai, and, especially, its wretched 
children. At the Oscars Sunday night,
we heard a lot about those miserable masses from 
the happy Oscar-winners, some of
whom said solemnly that Slumdog was for them.

But, on the other hand, Slumdog Millionaire is 
really not about les miserables in that
rank, booming city, but about the needy audience 
dispersed throughout the multiplexes
here. Slumdog is, in fact, a masterpiece of 
audience manipulation, of just the sort that
Hollywood--and Bollywood--have both been churning out for years. It tells an
epic (and, at times, near-pornographic) tale of 
horrifying abuse, capped with an absurdly
happy ending that appears to have the whole of 
India roaring in unanimous applause
(along with us). And lest that fantasy not seem 
intense enough, it's followed by a big
dance number, with the stars and countless extras 
rockin' out in perfect unison, to
A.H. Rahman's irresistible "Jai Ho" (which won the Oscar for Best Song).

"It blew me away," people often say about this 
movie. That's precisely what the movie
does--and that's what's wrong with it. It would 
be one thing if it were an outright
fantasy, like High School Musical or Mamma Mia, 
and not one that purports to tell the
truth about those actual immiserated masses. As 
it is, the film itself exploits the wretched
children of Dharavi, and Mumbai overall, to give 
us all some (pricey) kicks--and
then have us .... do nothing, other than to tell 
our friends to go and see it, too. And
while that movie keeps on blowing us away, the 
poor in India--and all throughout
the world, including here--just keep on getting poorer.

MCM


"Slumdog Millionaire": A Hollow Message of Social Justice
By Mitu Sengupta, AlterNet
Posted on February 23, 2009, Printed on February 24, 2009
http://www.alternet.org/story/127845/

Danny Boyle's "Slumdog Millionaire", perhaps one 
of the most celebrated films in recent times, 
tells the rags-to-rajah story of a love-struck 
Indian boy, Jamal, who, with a little help from 
"destiny," triumphs over his wretched beginnings 
in Mumbai's squalid slums. Riding on a wave of 
rave reviews, "Slumdog" has now won Hollywood's 
highest tribute, the Academy Award for Best 
Picture, along with seven more Oscars, including 
one for Best Director.

These honors will probably add some $100 million 
to "Slumdog's" box-office takings, as Oscar wins 
usually do. They will also further enhance the 
film's fast-growing reputation as an authentic 
representation of the lives of India's urban 
poor. So far, most of the awards collected by the 
film have been accepted in the name of "the 
children," suggesting that its own cast and crew 
regard it (and have relentlessly promoted it) not 
as a cinematically spectacular, musically rich 
and entertaining work of fiction, which it is, 
but as a powerful tool of advocacy. Nothing could 
be more worrying, as "Slumdog", despite all the 
hype to the contrary, delivers a deeply 
disempowering narrative about the poor that 
thoroughly undermines, if not totally negates, 
its seeming message of social justice.

"Slumdog" has angered many Indians because it 
tarnishes their perception of their country as a 
rising economic power and a beacon of democracy. 
India's English-language papers, read mainly by 
its middle classes, have carried many bristling 
reviews of the film that convey an acute sense of 
wounded national pride. While understandable, the 
sentiment is not defensible. Though at times 
embarrassingly contrived, most of the film's 
heartrending scenarios are inspired by a sad, but 
well-documented reality.

Corruption is certainly rampant among the police, 
and many will gladly use torture, though none is 
probably dim enough to target an articulate, 
English-speaking man who is already a rising 
media phenomenon. Beggar-makers do round-up 
abandoned children and mutilate them in order to 
make them more sympathetic, though it is highly 
improbable that any such child will ever chance 
upon a $100 bill, much less be capable of 
identifying it by touch and scent alone.

Indeed, if anything, Boyle's magical tale, with 
its unconvincing one-dimensional characters and 
absurd plot devices, greatly understates the 
depth of suffering among India's poor. It is 
near-impossible, for example, that Jamal would 
emerge from his ravaged life with a dewy 
complexion and an upper-class accent. But the 
real problem with "Slumdog" is neither its 
characterization of India as just another Third 
World country, nor, within this, its shallow and 
largely impressionistic portrayal of poverty.

The film's real problem is that it grossly 
minimizes the capabilities and even the basic 
humanity of those it so piously claims to speak 
for. It is no secret that much of "Slumdog" is 
meant to reflect life in Dharavi, the 213-hectare 
spread of slums at the heart of Mumbai. The 
film's depiction of the legendary Dharavi, which 
is home to some one million people, is that of a 
feral wasteland, with little evidence of order, 
community or compassion. Other than the children, 
the "slumdogs," no-one is even remotely 
well-intentioned. Hustlers, thieves, and petty 
warlords run amok, and even Jamal's 
schoolteacher, a thin, bespectacled man who 
introduces him to the Three Musketeers, is 
inexplicably callous. This is a place of evil and 
decay; of a raw, chaotic tribalism.

Yet nothing could be further from the truth. 
Dharavi teems with dynamism and creativity, and 
is a hub of entrepreneurial activity, in 
industries such as garment manufacturing, 
embroidery, pottery, and leather, plastics and 
food processing. It is estimated that the annual 
turnover from Dharavi's small businesses is 
between US$50 to $100 million. Dharavi's lanes 
are lined with cell-phone retailers and 
cybercafés, and according to surveys by Microsoft 
Research India, the slum's residents exhibit a 
remarkably high absorption of new technologies.

Governing structures and productive social 
relations also flourish. The slum's residents 
have nurtured strong collaborative networks, 
often across potentially volatile lines of caste 
and religion. Many cooperative societies work 
together with grassroots associations to provide 
residents with essential services such as basic 
healthcare, schooling and waste disposal, and 
tackle difficult issues such as child abuse and 
violence against women. In fact, they often 
compensate for the formal government's woeful 
inadequacy in meeting the needs of the poor.

Although it is true that these severely 
under-resourced self-help organizations have 
touched only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, 
it is important to acknowledge their efforts and 
agency, along with the simple fact that these 
communities, despite their grinding poverty, have 
valuable lives, warmth, generosity, and a 
resourcefulness that stretches far beyond the 
haphazard and purely individualistic, Darwinian 
sort portrayed in the film.

Indeed, the failure to recognize this fact has 
already led to a great deal of damage. Government 
bureaucrats have concocted many ham-handed, 
top-down plans for "developing" the slums based 
on the dangerous assumption that these are 
worthless spaces. The most recent is the "Dharavi 
Redevelopment Project" (DRP), which proposes to 
convert the slums into blocks of residential and 
commercial high rises. The DRP requires private 
developers to provide small flats (of about 250 
sq. ft. each) to families that can prove they 
settled in Dharavi before the year 2000. In 
return for re-housing residents, the developers 
obtain construction rights in Dharavi.

The DRP is being fiercely resisted by slum 
residents' organizations and human rights 
activists, who see it an undemocratically 
conceived and environmentally harmful land-grab 
scheme (real-estate prices in Mumbai are 
comparable to Manhattan's).

Though perhaps better than razing the slums with 
bulldozers -- which is not, incidentally, an 
unpopular option among the city's rich - the DRP 
is far from a people-friendly plan. It will 
potentially evict some 500,000 residents who 
cannot legally prove that they settled in Dharavi 
prior to 2000, and may destroy thousands of 
livelihoods by rendering unviable countless 
household-centered businesses.

If forced to move into congested high-rises, for 
example, the slum's potters and papad-makers, 
large numbers of who are women, will lose the 
space they need to dry their wares. For the 
government, however, that the DRP will 
"rehabilitate" Dharavi by erasing the eyesore and 
integrating its "problem-population" into modern, 
middle-class Mumbai.

It is ironic that "Slumdog", for all its 
righteousness of tone, shares with many Indian 
political and social elites a profoundly 
dehumanizing view of those who live and work 
within the country's slums. The troubling policy 
implications of this perspective are 
unmistakeably mirrored by the film. Since there 
are no internal resources, and none capable of 
constructive voice or action, all "solutions" 
must arrive externally.

After a harrowing life in an anarchic wilderness, 
salvation finally comes to Jamal, a Christ-like 
figure, in the form of an imported quiz-show, 
which he succeeds in thanks to sheer, dumb luck, 
or rather, because "it is written." Is it also 
"written," then, that the other children depicted 
in the film must continue to suffer? Or must 
they, like the stone-faced Jamal, stoically await 
their own "destiny" of rescue by a foreign hand?

Indeed, while this self-billed "feel good movie 
of the year" may help us "feel good" that we are 
among the lucky ones on earth, it delivers a 
patronizing, colonial and ultimately sham 
statement on social justice for those who are not.

A version of this article appeared in the Toronto Star.

Mitu Sengupta is an Assistant Professor in the 
Department of Politics at Ryerson University in 
Toronto, Canada.

email: mitu.sengu...@gmail.com




© 2009 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
View this story online at: http://www.alternet.org/story/127845/
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