The rational thing to do, according to economic theory, is
to maximize your income, and buy goods and services, and be happier than
before. What about dignity?
I frequently think about Vercingetorix, the leader of the
Gauls. According to economic theory, he should have kowtowed to Julius Caesar,
asked for a handsome retainer, and lived happily ever after. Instead, he --
dumb Gaul that he was -- had the irrationality to rise against the Roman
Republic. For his foolishness, he was taken to Rome in chains, exhibited in
Caesar's triumph, and executed six years later. Today, it is not Caesar I
admire, but Vercingetorix. I never was a good student of economics.
From Vercingetorix, my mind moves, by association, to a more
recent figure. Mullah Omar was promised "a carpet of gold" or a
"carpet of bombs" by the American Republic. He -- totally ignorant of
neoclassical economic theory -- chose the latter. Some people are just born
losers ("doofus," I think, is the word).
Why should anyone in his senses rise against power? It's not
the rational thing to do. Consider the so-called suicide bombers. In 1991, we
were stunned by the report that a Tamil woman had blown up Rajiv Gandhi (and
herself). (Incidentally, this gives the lie to the assertion that the
"suicide bomber" was a Muslim, irrational innovation). She had taken
revenge against Gandhi because the Indian troops he had sent to Sri Lanka in
1987 to help enforce a peace accord there had ended up fighting the Tamil
separatist guerrillas. Now, blowing yourself up must be the most irrational of
human acts -- there isn't even a chance of your sticking around to find out
which side finally prevails. But perhaps that's the point: when you have little
or no hope of prevailing against a mighty foe, it makes sense to destroy the
enemy and yourself in the process. I say "makes sense" even though
Adam Smith would have ridiculed me for making that statement. After all, bombs
and bullets are bad for business -- unless you are in the business of making
and selling them. The production of explosives is an eminently productive and
remunerative enterprise, but the use of such gadgets -- and here's the rub --
makes no sense at all. In that case, a query arises: if the consumption of
bullets makes no sense, then how does the production thereof? It seems, then,
that the biggest sellers of arms -- the world's topmost democracies and
capitalist countries -- must be engaged in an irrational pursuit. Or perhaps there's
a mystery here that some future PhD (in economics, of course) will resolve, and
my puny little brain can't.
It is estimated that around 5 million Vietnamese died
fighting the American Republic. That, surely, was insane. These Vietnamese
should have accepted the American yoke (much as the prostitutes described in
Graham Greene's novel The Quiet American
accepted the American poke) and maximized their economic well-being. Instead,
they invited a "carpet of bombs," including a weed-killer called
Agent Orange that, to this day, deforms Vietnamese foetuses. Why not let
sleeping dogs lie? As to those who admire the Vietnamese for their heroism --
such as myself -- the less said, the better. As a student of economics, I
should have enough common sense to condemn irrationality when I see it. But I
don't!
Take my compatriots. Ever since Mir Zafar betrayed the last
Nawab of Bengal, Siraj ud-Dawlah, we have been a rational people. At the Battle
of Plassey, the former sold his honour, his country and his ruler to the
British. A force of 3,000 went on to defeat a force of 50,000, and the Nawab
was ferreted out and executed. Now, there's a real doofus for you. If he had
supinely allowed the British to go on building their fort in Calcutta, turning
a blind eye to the obvious, and selling his loyalty after an agreed upon
interval, well, he would never have found a place in the hearts of the common
people, as he has with the superb popular play enacted in the countryside, but
he would have died in a silken bed. After all, you can't eat glory and heroism.
Posthumous applause is posthumous.
"US Charge d'Affaires Geeta Pasi yesterday refuted
claims of interference in Bangladesh's internal affairs, while Foreign Affairs
Adviser Iftekhar A Chowdhury reiterated that the government's recent caution
against foreign interference is not directed at anyone in particular." So
reported a local paper. Now and then, like an intermittent itch, we have
moments of irrationality; we complain about foreign interference, for instance,
knowing well that the country is run by foreigners -- mostly by Americans and
Europeans. We know it, and we love it -- the amount of money that we get from
these Western powers swells our pockets at the price of our honour and dignity.
But you can't consume dignity. It is simply not for sale.
Therefore, the wise Bangladeshi avoids dignity at all times.
Only when it becomes blatantly obvious that our real rulers are not the
murderous begums now in jail do we shrug off our lethargy and make noises, and
promptly fall asleep. The Americans, the British, the French, the Germans just
adore us -- we are their quiet little pet, albeit with a soft bark uttered at
long intervals. Cute.
It can be no accident that economists are so highly valued
in Bangladesh. The chairmen of Transparency International Bangladesh and the
Centre for Policy Dialogue are highly respected economists. They serve as
exemplars of the economic doctrine of maximizing personal income, the nation be
hanged. Nearly half the people live below the poverty line, and have little
chance of augmenting their income -- and with the rising price of rice, the
poverty level is bound to increase. That makes the achievements of Vietnam and
China all the more irrational. Their rulers actually work for the people's welfare.
They don't scurry off to attend seminars in New York to gain prestige; they
don't kowtow to Caesar. They don't genuflect before Geeta Pasi or the current
US ambassador to Bangladesh, James Moriarty. An elite should learn to sell the
national interest to the highest bidder, to make sure that their children can
live in Europe when the nation collapses. And what if women are going to be
raped by the student armies of the political parties? So long as it's not my
sister, why should I care?
Not to love thy neighbour -- that's rational. Only the
doofus loves his neighbour as himself. In Bangladesh, we're not doofuses.
Iftekhar Sayeed was born in Dhaka, Bangladesh,
where he currently resides. He teaches English as well as economics. His
poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in Postcolonial Text (on-line); Altar
Magazine, Online Journal, Left Curve (2004,2005) and The Whirligig in the
United States; in Britain: Mouseion, Erbacce, The Journal, Poetry Monthly,
Envoi, Orbis, Acumen and Panurge; and in Asiaweek in Hong Kong; Chandrabhaga
and the Journal OF Indian Writing in English in India; and Himal in Nepal. He
is also a freelance journalist. He and his wife love to tour Bangladesh.