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Cross-Indigenous Dialogue to Bridge Cultural Differences
It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries.
Cultures do not have strict boundaries; many borrow (or take) stories and technologies from each other. Something can only ever be fully defined when it is not moving, but that would mean that it is dead. Culture is the current in a river of shared humanity, ever living, ever flowing.
What, then, can it look like to affirm and respect differences, while acknowledging the humanity that connects us all?

Creating Differences
In our attempt to understand the world, we end up endlessly categorizing things into one or the other. In both the scientific arena and the sociopolitical sphere, we have become aware of hierarchies, dichotomies, and differences. In our criticism of certain structures, we are not truly dismantling them; rather, we are constantly affirming them. Even within my field, there is a tendency to contrast indigenous, non-Western values to Western values, usually to show how morally superior we are to the corrupt and hollow West. The most this says is that we value different things, not necessarily that one is better than the other. After all, Western values are indigenous to Western culture in the sense that they evolved through their own history and geopolitical affairs.
As it is popularly understood, a major difference between Western and Eastern cultures is that the former is more individualistic, and the latter more collectivistic. Mindless interaction between the two has been, for better or worse, either by fetish or fear. That there are “individualistic” and “collectivistic” cultures is one of the lazier generalizations in cross-cultural psychology. Furthermore, it has nothing to do whatsoever with geographical location: many cultures in South America are community-oriented, whereas many people from industrialized cultures in Eastern Asia are more ambitious and isolated. When we speak, therefore, of “West” and “East” (or even, Global North and Global South), we are not talking literally; we are talking philosophically.
I was born and raised as a Filipino, so this essay comes from my perspective, shaped by the culture I have gotten used to. It is a Filipino perspective, but it is not the essential or foundational one. But let us be clear: culture is not bound by one’s nationality. There is no singular “American” culture any more than there is a singular “Filipino” or “Japanese” or “Italian” culture. When we say that some people are more or less “Filipino,” we are not setting them against the standards of a culture, but against the standards of a nation, which is an imagined geopolitical thing—and this is largely shaped by the agendas of those in power.
Within what we know as the United States, there are many cultures, and even within a group such as “Asian-Americans,” there are still more varied cultures depending on one’s heritage. Within the Philippines, there are many cultural dichotomies (hating kultural), each representing various social locations by birth, affiliation, or socioeconomic status: taga-lungsod (urban) and taga-probinsya (rural), burgis (elite), and bakya (masses), Kristiyano (Christian, but more generally referring to lowlanders), and katutubo (Indigenous People). There are also nuances by group and by family, which are often lazily described by outsiders in terms of stereotypes.
So, when we refer to “culture,” we are actually just talking about adaptive differences shaped by biology, geography, and history. This applies to small groups, but also to groups that come together. Cultural heritage is how we have survived and decorated the places we call home. Language and fashion develop based on what is useful to us. For example, we Filipinos do not have a native word for snow—we borrow the Spanish nieve—because it does not snow here. However, we do have many words for rice at all stages of its household use, even for when it is past its freshness. We are also shaped by our interactions with other cultures, either by imposition or assimilation.
Much has already been said about the colonial history of the Philippines, and about how many foreign standards are still imposed today. This is true in economics and politics, but also in smaller, everyday things. For example, in Metro Manila, where the thick concrete absorbs the heat of the tropical sun, warm jackets are worn to signify status and coolness. Colonial mentality is often impractical. That said, as writer Nick Joaquin pointed out in Culture and History, many technologies that we enjoy today were brought in through trade and colonization—this includes our modes of transportation, cooking techniques, the printing press, etc. Adobo, the jeepney, and the Barong Tagalog are distinctly “Filipino” even though they are of foreign origin.
There is also much to talk about regarding the interplay of various cultures, and how each one manifests in various places. We can see this in the experience of immigrants everywhere (there are millions of Filipinos living and working abroad), the dominance of Manila-centric ideologies across the varied regional cultures of the Philippines, the enduring hospitality of locals to even the rudest foreigner, and so on. We engage in intercultural dialogue wherever we go, even without leaving our place of residence. In fact, we are allied with each other despite all our differences because we are all human. And so, instead of imposing what has worked for us, it would do us well to learn the many ways of living in the world.
Learning to Listen
Our divisiveness today is rooted in the same human tendency that led to capitalism, totalitarianism, and colonialism, that is, a mindset characterized by kaniya-kaniya (to each their own). Even with good intentions toward collective liberation and indigenization, we might enter haphazardly into the territory of ethnocentrism, xenophobia, and jingoism.
When we view the “colonizer” only as a dangerous foreigner, we tend to ignore the colonizer within, which is the tendency we all have to enter without consent (panghihimasok) and to take without permission (pananakop).
What might it look like to move from the possession and ownership of culture, land, and power to collaboration, stewardship, and mutual flourishing?
As an antidote to harmful social conditioning, we can revisit the intuitive and indigenous. At the core of Philippine folk psychology is a recognition that we are part of a larger whole, not as a singular thing, but as an interplay of interconnected yet beautifully diverse parts. This is most popularly known as Kapwa, a Filipino term that refers to a common identity and a sense of belongingness. The Ilokano concept of Nakem also stands out, as it refers to the relationship of one’s interiority to the larger ecology of people, nature, and spirits. At the meeting of self and other, we see that, despite our differences, we grow from the same earth. It is, as the Bisaya would say, our Kahimtang, our place and shared condition.
Now, if we seek to engage in genuine dialogue across cultural differences within and beyond nations, we can revisit an interesting approach from the Philippine indigenization movements. It is called the kros-katutubo or cross-indigenous approach. The idea is simple: instead of treating other cultures as targets for analysis and domination, we treat them as sources of wisdom. “Indigenous” simply refers to whatever emerges naturally from a particular culture, and so a cross-indigenous approach is essentially a round table, with everyone welcome to sit in. Each of us becomes a culture-bearer. This is relevant in ethical and collaborative social science research (as opposed to exploitative and agenda-driven research), but it is also useful in everyday conversations. This is, fundamentally, an application of Kapwa philosophy. If we are to encourage multicultural diversity, this approach can be incredibly valuable and nourishing.
With respect to the great scholars who came before me, such as Virgilio Enriquez, Rogelia Pe-Pua, and all other critical Kapwa-oriented researchers locally and globally, here are a few important principles for Kros-Katutubo Dialogue:
-
When faced with something or someone new, welcome it or them as an opportunity to recognize a different aspect of your own personhood. Feel with them, be mindful of their moods, and carefully adjust your manners depending on whether something seems appropriate to do or say.
-
Remember that, even if someone is a stranger, they are still knowledgeable in their own way; they have their own life experiences, and they have much to teach you. Be open to this.
-
Do not be quick to sell or expose the knowledge you receive. Your first thought must be whether what you do with this new knowledge will benefit the other. And, if you do have the opportunity to share what you learn, let it be affirmed by them, to ensure that you truly understand.
We do not have to “go native” to understand a different culture, but working with local communities can help us develop our fluency in Kros-Katutubo Dialogue. In this age of information, we are constantly in connection with various cultures around the world, and despite the anonymity and scatteredness of our online spheres, there is the potential to practice intercultural dialogue. In the midst of global confusion and polarization, Kros-Katutubo Dialogue can help bridge divides and guide us toward a collective understanding of the planet we all call home.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Cross-Indigenous Dialogue to Bridge Cultural Differences",
"author" : "Carl Lorenz Cervantes",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/cross-indigenous-dialogue-bridge-cultural-differences",
"date" : "2025-06-14 14:26:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/cervantes-phillipines.jpg",
"excerpt" : "It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries.",
"content" : "It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries. Cultures do not have strict boundaries; many borrow (or take) stories and technologies from each other. Something can only ever be fully defined when it is not moving, but that would mean that it is dead. Culture is the current in a river of shared humanity, ever living, ever flowing.What, then, can it look like to affirm and respect differences, while acknowledging the humanity that connects us all?Creating DifferencesIn our attempt to understand the world, we end up endlessly categorizing things into one or the other. In both the scientific arena and the sociopolitical sphere, we have become aware of hierarchies, dichotomies, and differences. In our criticism of certain structures, we are not truly dismantling them; rather, we are constantly affirming them. Even within my field, there is a tendency to contrast indigenous, non-Western values to Western values, usually to show how morally superior we are to the corrupt and hollow West. The most this says is that we value different things, not necessarily that one is better than the other. After all, Western values are indigenous to Western culture in the sense that they evolved through their own history and geopolitical affairs.As it is popularly understood, a major difference between Western and Eastern cultures is that the former is more individualistic, and the latter more collectivistic. Mindless interaction between the two has been, for better or worse, either by fetish or fear. That there are “individualistic” and “collectivistic” cultures is one of the lazier generalizations in cross-cultural psychology. Furthermore, it has nothing to do whatsoever with geographical location: many cultures in South America are community-oriented, whereas many people from industrialized cultures in Eastern Asia are more ambitious and isolated. When we speak, therefore, of “West” and “East” (or even, Global North and Global South), we are not talking literally; we are talking philosophically.I was born and raised as a Filipino, so this essay comes from my perspective, shaped by the culture I have gotten used to. It is a Filipino perspective, but it is not the essential or foundational one. But let us be clear: culture is not bound by one’s nationality. There is no singular “American” culture any more than there is a singular “Filipino” or “Japanese” or “Italian” culture. When we say that some people are more or less “Filipino,” we are not setting them against the standards of a culture, but against the standards of a nation, which is an imagined geopolitical thing—and this is largely shaped by the agendas of those in power.Within what we know as the United States, there are many cultures, and even within a group such as “Asian-Americans,” there are still more varied cultures depending on one’s heritage. Within the Philippines, there are many cultural dichotomies (hating kultural), each representing various social locations by birth, affiliation, or socioeconomic status: taga-lungsod (urban) and taga-probinsya (rural), burgis (elite), and bakya (masses), Kristiyano (Christian, but more generally referring to lowlanders), and katutubo (Indigenous People). There are also nuances by group and by family, which are often lazily described by outsiders in terms of stereotypes.So, when we refer to “culture,” we are actually just talking about adaptive differences shaped by biology, geography, and history. This applies to small groups, but also to groups that come together. Cultural heritage is how we have survived and decorated the places we call home. Language and fashion develop based on what is useful to us. For example, we Filipinos do not have a native word for snow—we borrow the Spanish nieve—because it does not snow here. However, we do have many words for rice at all stages of its household use, even for when it is past its freshness. We are also shaped by our interactions with other cultures, either by imposition or assimilation.Much has already been said about the colonial history of the Philippines, and about how many foreign standards are still imposed today. This is true in economics and politics, but also in smaller, everyday things. For example, in Metro Manila, where the thick concrete absorbs the heat of the tropical sun, warm jackets are worn to signify status and coolness. Colonial mentality is often impractical. That said, as writer Nick Joaquin pointed out in Culture and History, many technologies that we enjoy today were brought in through trade and colonization—this includes our modes of transportation, cooking techniques, the printing press, etc. Adobo, the jeepney, and the Barong Tagalog are distinctly “Filipino” even though they are of foreign origin.There is also much to talk about regarding the interplay of various cultures, and how each one manifests in various places. We can see this in the experience of immigrants everywhere (there are millions of Filipinos living and working abroad), the dominance of Manila-centric ideologies across the varied regional cultures of the Philippines, the enduring hospitality of locals to even the rudest foreigner, and so on. We engage in intercultural dialogue wherever we go, even without leaving our place of residence. In fact, we are allied with each other despite all our differences because we are all human. And so, instead of imposing what has worked for us, it would do us well to learn the many ways of living in the world.Learning to ListenOur divisiveness today is rooted in the same human tendency that led to capitalism, totalitarianism, and colonialism, that is, a mindset characterized by kaniya-kaniya (to each their own). Even with good intentions toward collective liberation and indigenization, we might enter haphazardly into the territory of ethnocentrism, xenophobia, and jingoism. When we view the “colonizer” only as a dangerous foreigner, we tend to ignore the colonizer within, which is the tendency we all have to enter without consent (panghihimasok) and to take without permission (pananakop).What might it look like to move from the possession and ownership of culture, land, and power to collaboration, stewardship, and mutual flourishing?As an antidote to harmful social conditioning, we can revisit the intuitive and indigenous. At the core of Philippine folk psychology is a recognition that we are part of a larger whole, not as a singular thing, but as an interplay of interconnected yet beautifully diverse parts. This is most popularly known as Kapwa, a Filipino term that refers to a common identity and a sense of belongingness. The Ilokano concept of Nakem also stands out, as it refers to the relationship of one’s interiority to the larger ecology of people, nature, and spirits. At the meeting of self and other, we see that, despite our differences, we grow from the same earth. It is, as the Bisaya would say, our Kahimtang, our place and shared condition.Now, if we seek to engage in genuine dialogue across cultural differences within and beyond nations, we can revisit an interesting approach from the Philippine indigenization movements. It is called the kros-katutubo or cross-indigenous approach. The idea is simple: instead of treating other cultures as targets for analysis and domination, we treat them as sources of wisdom. “Indigenous” simply refers to whatever emerges naturally from a particular culture, and so a cross-indigenous approach is essentially a round table, with everyone welcome to sit in. Each of us becomes a culture-bearer. This is relevant in ethical and collaborative social science research (as opposed to exploitative and agenda-driven research), but it is also useful in everyday conversations. This is, fundamentally, an application of Kapwa philosophy. If we are to encourage multicultural diversity, this approach can be incredibly valuable and nourishing.With respect to the great scholars who came before me, such as Virgilio Enriquez, Rogelia Pe-Pua, and all other critical Kapwa-oriented researchers locally and globally, here are a few important principles for Kros-Katutubo Dialogue: When faced with something or someone new, welcome it or them as an opportunity to recognize a different aspect of your own personhood. Feel with them, be mindful of their moods, and carefully adjust your manners depending on whether something seems appropriate to do or say. Remember that, even if someone is a stranger, they are still knowledgeable in their own way; they have their own life experiences, and they have much to teach you. Be open to this. Do not be quick to sell or expose the knowledge you receive. Your first thought must be whether what you do with this new knowledge will benefit the other. And, if you do have the opportunity to share what you learn, let it be affirmed by them, to ensure that you truly understand. We do not have to “go native” to understand a different culture, but working with local communities can help us develop our fluency in Kros-Katutubo Dialogue. In this age of information, we are constantly in connection with various cultures around the world, and despite the anonymity and scatteredness of our online spheres, there is the potential to practice intercultural dialogue. In the midst of global confusion and polarization, Kros-Katutubo Dialogue can help bridge divides and guide us toward a collective understanding of the planet we all call home."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Ziad Rahbani and the Art of Creative Rebellion",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/ziad-rahbani-creative-rebellion",
"date" : "2025-07-28 07:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/2025_7_for-EIP-ziad-rahbani.jpg",
"excerpt" : "When I turned fourteen in Beirut, I came across Ziad Rahbani’s groundbreaking work. I immediately felt connected to him, his words, his perspective and his unflinching commitment to liberation for our people and for Palestine. My first love introduced me to his revolutionary plays, his unique contributions to Arab music and very soon I had listened to all of his plays and expanded my understanding of our own culture and history.",
"content" : "When I turned fourteen in Beirut, I came across Ziad Rahbani’s groundbreaking work. I immediately felt connected to him, his words, his perspective and his unflinching commitment to liberation for our people and for Palestine. My first love introduced me to his revolutionary plays, his unique contributions to Arab music and very soon I had listened to all of his plays and expanded my understanding of our own culture and history.Ziad Rahbani’s passing marks more than the end of a brilliant life—it marks the closing of a chapter in the cultural history of our region. His funeral wasn’t just a ceremony, it was a collective reckoning; crowds following his exit from the hospital to the cemetery. The streets knew what many governments tried to forget: that he gave voice to the people’s truths, to our frustrations, our absurdities, our grief, and our undying hope for justice. Yet he died as an unsung hero.Born into a family that shaped the musical soul of Lebanon, Ziad could have taken the easy path of replication. Instead, he shattered the mold. From his early plays like Sahriyye and Nazl el-Surour, he upended the elitism of classical Arabic theatre by placing the working class, the absurdity of war, and the contradictions of society at the center of his work. He spoke like the people spoke. He made art in the language of the taxi driver, the student, the mother waiting for news of her son.In his film work Film Ameriki Tawil, Ziad used satire not only as critique, but as rebellion. He exposed the rot of sectarian politics in Lebanon with surgical precision, never sparing anyone, including the leftist circles he moved in. He saw clearly: that political purity was a myth, and liberation required uncomfortable truths. His work, deeply rooted in class consciousness, refused to glorify any side of a war that tore his country apart.And yet, Ziad Rahbani never lost his clarity on Palestine. While others wavered, diluted their positions, or folded into diplomacy, Ziad remained steadfast. His support for the Palestinian struggle was not an aesthetic position—it was a political and ethical commitment. And he did so not as an outsider or savior, but as someone who understood that our futures are intertwined. That the liberation of Palestine is integral to the liberation of Lebanon. That anti-sectarianism and anti-Zionism are not contradictions, but extensions of each other.He brought jazz into Arabic music not as a novelty, but as a defiant act of cultural fusion—proof that our identities are not fixed, but fluid, diasporic, ever-evolving. He blurred the lines between Western musical forms and Arabic lyricism with intention, not mimicry. His collaborations with his mother, the legendary Fairuz, carried the weight of generational dialogue, but his own voice always broke through—wry, melancholic, grounded in the everyday.Ziad taught us that being a revolutionary doesn’t require a uniform or a slogan. It requires listening. It requires holding complexity, laughing in the face of despair, and making room for joy even when the world is on fire. He reminded us that culture is the deepest infrastructure of any resistance movement. He refused to be sanitized, censored, or simplified.As we mourn him, we also inherit his clarity. For artists, for organizers, for thinkers: Ziad Rahbani gave us a blueprint. Create without permission. Tell the truth. Fight for Palestine without compromising your own roots. And never forget that the people will always hear what is real.He was, and will always be, a compass for creative rebellion."
}
,
{
"title" : "Saul Williams: Nothing is Just a Song",
"author" : "Saul Williams, Collis Browne",
"category" : "interviews",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/saul-williams-interview",
"date" : "2025-07-21 21:35:46 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_SaulWilliams_Shot_7_0218.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Saul Williams: Many artists would like to believe that there is some sort of sublime neutrality that art can deliver, that it is beyond or above the idea of politics. However, art is sometimes used as a tool of Empire, and if we are not careful, then our art is used as propaganda, and thus, it becomes essential for us to arm our art with our viewpoints, with our perspective, so that it cannot be misused. I have always operated from the position that all my work carries politics in it, that there are politics embedded in it. And I’ve never really understood, if you are aiming to be an artist, why you wouldn’t aim to speak directly to the times. Addressing the political doesn’t have to take away from the personal intimacy of your work.",
"content" : "Collis Browne: Is all music and art really political?Saul Williams: Many artists would like to believe that there is some sort of sublime neutrality that art can deliver, that it is beyond or above the idea of politics. However, art is sometimes used as a tool of Empire, and if we are not careful, then our art is used as propaganda, and thus, it becomes essential for us to arm our art with our viewpoints, with our perspective, so that it cannot be misused. I have always operated from the position that all my work carries politics in it, that there are politics embedded in it. And I’ve never really understood, if you are aiming to be an artist, why you wouldn’t aim to speak directly to the times. Addressing the political doesn’t have to take away from the personal intimacy of your work.Even now, we are reading the writings of Palestinian poets in Gaza and the West Bank, not to mention those who are part of the diaspora, who are charting their feelings and intimate experiences while living through a genocide. These works of art are all politically charged because they are charged with a reality that is fully suppressed by oppressive networks and powers that control them.Shakespeare’s work was always political. He found a way to speak about power to the face of power, knowing they would be in the audience. But also found a way to play with and talk to the “groundlings,” the common people who were in the audience as well.Collis Browne: Was there a moment when you realized that your music could be used as a tool of resistance?Saul Williams: Yeah, I was in third grade, about eight or nine years old. I had been cast in a play in my elementary school. I loved the process of not only performing, but of sitting around the table and breaking down what the language meant and what the objective and the psychology of the character was, and what that meant during the time it was written. I came home and told my parents that I wanted to be an actor when I grew up. My father had the typical response: “I’ll support you as an actor if you get a law degree.” My mother responded by saying, “You should do your next school report on Paul Robeson, he was an actor and a lawyer.”So I did my next school report on Paul Robeson. And what I discovered was that here was an African American man, born in 1898, who had come to an early realization as an actor that the messages of the films he was being cast in—and he was a huge star—went against his own beliefs, his own anti-colonial and anti-imperial beliefs. In the 1930s, he started talking about why we needed to invest in independent cinema. In 1949, during the McCarthy era, he had his passport taken from him so he could no longer travel outside of the US, because he refused to acknowledge that the enemies of the US were his enemies as well. He felt there was no reason Black people should be signing up to fight for the US Empire when they were going home and getting lynched.In 1951, he presented a mandate to the UN called “We Charge Genocide.” In it he charged the US Government with the genocide of African Americans because of the white mobs who were lynching Black Americans on a regular basis. [Editor’s note: the petition charges the US Government with genocide through the endorsement of both racism and “monopoly capitalism,” without which “the persistent, constant, widespread, institutionalized commission of the crime of genocide would be impossible.”] When Robeson met with President Truman, Truman said, “I’d like to respond, but there’s an election coming up, so I have to be careful.”Paul Robeson sang songs of working-class people, songs that trade unionists sang, songs that miners sang, songs that all types of workers sang across the world. He identified with the workers and with the working class, regardless of his fame. He was ridiculed by the American Government and even had his passport revoked for his activism. At that early age, I learned that you could sing songs that could get you labeled as an enemy of the state.I grew up in Newburgh, New York, which is about an hour upstate from New York City. One of my neighbors would often come sing at my father’s church. At the time, I did not understand why my dad would allow this white guy with his guitar or banjo to come sing at our church when we had an amazing gospel choir. I couldn’t understand why we were singing these school songs with this dude. When I finally asked my parents, they said, “You have to understand that Pete—they were talking about Pete Seeger—is responsible for popularizing some of the songs you sing in school.” He wrote songs like “If I Had a Hammer,” and he too was blacklisted by the US government because of the songs he chose to sing and the people he chose to sing them for, and the people he chose to sing them with. I learned at a very early age that music and art were full of politics. Enough politics to get you labeled as the enemy of the state. Enough politics to get your passport taken, or to be imprisoned.I was also learning about my parents’ peers, artists whom they loved and adored. Artists like Sonia Sanchez, Amiri Baraka, and Nikki Giovanni, all from the Black Arts Movement. Larry Neal and Amiri Baraka made a statement when they started the Black Arts Repertory Theatre School in Harlem that said essentially that all art should serve a function, and that function should be to liberate Black minds.It is from that movement that hip-hop was born. I was lucky enough to witness the birth of hip-hop. At first, it was playful, it was fun, but by the mid to late 1980s, it began finding its voice with groups like Public Enemy, KRS-One, Queen Latifa, Rakim, and the Jungle Brothers. These are groups that started using and expressing Black Liberation politics in the music, which uplifted it, made it sound better, and made it hit harder. The first gangster rap was that… when it was gangster, when it was directly challenging the country it was being born in.As a teenager, I identified as a rapper and an actor. I would argue with school kids who insisted, “It’s not even music. They’re just talking.” I would have to defend hip-hop as music, sometimes even to my parents, who found the language crass. But when I played artists like KRS-One and Public Enemy for my parents, they said, “Oh, I see what they’re doing here.”When Public Enemy rapped, “Elvis was a hero to most, But he never meant shit to me you see, Straight up racist that sucker was, Simple and plain, Motherfuck him and John Wayne, ‘Cause I’m Black and I’m proud, I’m ready and hyped plus I’m amped, Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps,” my parents were like Amen. They understood. They understood why I needed to blast that music in my room 24/7. They understood.When the music spoke to me in that way, suddenly I could pull off moves on the dance floor like doing a flip that I couldn’t do before. That’s the power of music. That’s power embedded in music. That’s why Fela Kuti said that music is the weapon of the future. And, of course, there’s Nina Simone and Billie Holiday. What’s Billie Holiday’s most memorable song? “Strange Fruit.” That voice connected, was speaking directly to the times she was living in. It transcended the times, where to this day, when you hear this song and you understand that the “strange fruit” hanging from Southern trees are Black people who have been lynched, you understand how the power of the voice, when you connect it to something that is charged with the reality of the times, takes on a greater shape.Collis Browne: Public Enemy broke open so much. I grew up in Toronto, in a mostly white community, but I was into some of the bigger American hip-hop acts who were coming out. Public Enemy rose to a new level. Before them, we were only connecting with punk and hardcore music as the music of rebellion.Saul Williams: Public Enemy laid down the groundwork for what hip-hop is: “the voice of the voiceless.” It was only after Public Enemy that you saw the emergence of huge groups in France, Germany, Bulgaria, Egypt, and across the world. There were big acts before them. Run DMC, for instance, but when Public Enemy came out, marginalized groups heard their music and said, “That’s for us. Yes, that’s for us.” It was immediately understood as music of resistance.Collis Browne: What have you seen or listened to out in the world that has a clear political goal, but has been appropriated and watered down?Saul Williams: We can stay on Public Enemy for that. Under Secretary Blinken, Chuck D became a US Global Music Ambassador during the genocide in Gaza. There are photos of him standing beside Secretary Blinken, accepting that role, while understanding that the US has always used music as a cultural propaganda tool to express soft power. I remember learning about how the US uses this “soft power” when I was working in the mid-2000s with a Swiss composer, who has now passed, named Thomas Kessler. He wrote a symphony based on one of my books, Said the Shotgun to the Head, and we were performing it with the Cologne, Germany symphony orchestra, when I heard from the head of the orchestra that, in fact, their main financier was the US Government through the CIA.During the Cold War, it was crucial for the American Government to put money into the arts throughout Western Europe to try to express this idea of “freedom,” as opposed to what was happening in the Eastern (Communist) Bloc. So it was a long time between when the US Government started enlisting musicians and other artists in their propaganda campaigns and when I encountered this information.There’s a documentary called Soundtrack to a Coup d’État, which talks about how the US Government used (uses) music and musicians to co-opt movements and propagate the idea of American freedom and democracy outside the US in the hope of winning over the citizens of other countries without them even realizing that so much of that art is there to question the system itself, not to celebrate it. Unfortunately, there are situations in which an artist’s work is co-opted to be used as propaganda, and the artist buys into it. They become indoctrinated, and you realize that we’re all susceptible to the possibility of taking that bait."
}
,
{
"title" : "The Culture of Artificial Intelligence",
"author" : "Sinead Bovell, Céline Semaan",
"category" : "interviews",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/sinead-bovell-on-ai-artifial-intelligence",
"date" : "2025-07-20 21:35:46 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/sinead-bovell-headshot.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Céline Semaan: It is being reported that AI will make humans dumber than ever, that it is here to rule the world, and to subjugate us all by bringing on a climate apocalypse. Being an AI and tech expert, how can you help people better understand AI as a phenomenon that will impact us but that we shouldn’t necessarily fear?",
"content" : "Céline Semaan: It is being reported that AI will make humans dumber than ever, that it is here to rule the world, and to subjugate us all by bringing on a climate apocalypse. Being an AI and tech expert, how can you help people better understand AI as a phenomenon that will impact us but that we shouldn’t necessarily fear?Sinead Bovell: It depends on where you are… in the Global North, and particularly in the US, perspectives on artificial intelligence and advanced technologies are more broadly negative. When you look at regions in the Global South, when you look at regions in Asia, AI is seen in a much more positive light. Their societies tend to focus on the benefits new technology can bring and what it can do for their quality of life. The social media ecosystem thrives on negative content, but it really does depend on where you are in the world as to how negatively you’re going to view AI. When it comes to the actual fears and the threats themselves, most of them have some validity. Humans could become less intelligent over time if they’re overly reliant on artificial intelligence systems, and the data does show that AI can erode core cognitive capacities.For example, most of us can’t read maps anymore. If you are in the military and your satellite gets knocked down and you need to understand your coordinates, that might be a problem. But for the average person, not reading a map has allowed us to optimize our time; we can get from A to B much more quickly. What do we fill the time with that AI gives us back with? That’s a really important question.Another important question is: How do we purposely engineer cognitive friction into the learning and thinking environment so we don’t erode that core capability? That’s not something that is just going to happen. We are humans, we take the path of least resistance, like all evolutionary species do. If you look at the printing press, the chaotic abundance of information eventually led to the scientific method and the peer review. Educators, academics, scientists, and creators needed to figure out a way to sort through the valuable information and the nonsense, and that led to more cognitive friction. Those pathways haven’t been developed yet for AI. How we use and assimilate AI depends on the actions we take when it comes to the climate apocalypse, for instance. As of now, how AI uses water and energy is nothing short of a nightmare. However, it’s not really AI in isolation. It’s our social media habits in general. When you look at them in aggregate and globally, our digital habits and patterns aren’t good for the climate in general. And then AI just exacerbates all of that.AI is not a technology that you are going to tap into and tap out of. It’s not like Uber where maybe you don’t use the app because you would prefer to bike, and that’s the choice that you make. AI is a general-purpose technology, and it’s important that we get that distinction, because general-purpose technologies, over time, become infrastructure, like the steam engine, electricity, and the internet. We rebuild our societies on top of them, and it’s important that we see it that way, so people don’t just unsubscribe out of protest. That only impedes their ability to make sure they keep up with the technology, and give adequate feedback and critiques of the technology.Céline Semaan: I recently saw you on stage and heard your response to a question about whether AI and its ramifications could be written into an episode of the TV show Black Mirror. Would you be able to repeat the answer you gave?Sinead Bovell: The stories we see and read about AI are usually dystopian. Arguably, there are choices we continue to make over and over again that we know will lead to negative outcomes, yet we don’t make different choices. To me, that’s the real Black Mirror episode… can we rely on ourselves? In some circumstances, we continually pick the more harmful thing. Most of the big challenges we face are complicated but not unsolvable. Even with climate, a lot of the solutions exist, and actually most of them are grounded in technology. What isn’t happening is the choice to leverage them, or the choice to subsidize them so they become more accessible, or the choice to even believe in them. That scares me a lot more than a particular use case of technology. Most of the biggest challenges we face are down to human choices, and we’re not making the right choices.Céline Semaan: Are you afraid of AI taking over the world and rendering all of our jobs useless? How do you see that?Sinead Bovell: There’s AI taking over the world, and that’s AI having its own desire and randomly rising up out of the laptop or out of some robot. I’m not necessarily concerned about that. You can’t say anything is a 0% chance, right? We don’t know. There are so many things you can’t say with 100% certainty. I mean, are we alone the universe? It’s really hard to prove or disprove those types of things. Where I stand on that is… sure allocate research dollars to a select group of scientists who can work on that problem. However, I am quite concerned about the impact AI is going to have on the workforce. We can see the destruction of certain jobs coming. It’s going to happen quickly, and we’re not preparing for it properly. Every general-purpose technology has led to automation and reconfiguration of the shape of the workforce. Let’s look at the first industrial revolution which lasted from approximately 1760-1840. If we were to zoom in on people working in agriculture, by the end of the 19th Century, around 70-80% of those people were doing something different. That is an astounding change. People had jobs, they just looked very different from working on the farm. But what if that happens in seven years rather than 80 years? That’s what scares me. I think the transition will be quite chaotic because it’s going to be quite quick, but it doesn’t have to be. History isn’t a great predictor of the future, but it does give you a lot of examples of what you don’t need to do again.The reason the industrial revolution turned out to be a good thing in the end, in terms of the life we all live, is that, for instance, we have MRIs and don’t have to have our blood drained to see if we’re sick. But people were just left to fend for themselves. It was chaos, and it turned into this kind of every person for themselves. Kind of figure it out. Get to the city. Bring your family. Don’t bring your family. It was really chaotic. How are we going to not repeat that? I don’t know if we are putting the security measures in place to make sure people are protecting that transition.The most obvious one to me is health care in the United States. I don’t know the exact number, maybe it’s around 60% of people, but don’t quote me on that, are reliant on their job for health care. That’s where their insurance comes from. What is going to happen to their insurance if their job goes away or if they transition to being self-employed? How do we help people transition? People don’t even dare go down that road, but those are the types of conversations that need to happen.Céline Semaan: In 10 years from now, will we look at AI as just another super calculator. And we will be asking the same questions that we are asking today, meaning that the change we’re seeking is not necessarily technological, but philosophical and cultural. How do you see that?Sinead Bovell: AI will look like much more of a philosophical, cultural, and social transition than solely a technological one. This is true of a lot of general-purpose technologies.The inventions in technology lead to how we organize our societies and how we govern them. If you look at the printing press, it led to a secular movement and gave power to that engine. You get big social, philosophical, cultural changes, and revolutions in society when you experience this scale of technical disruption. I think we will look back on the AI inflection point as one of the most pivotal transitions in human history in the past couple 100 years. I would say it’s going to be as disruptive as the printing press and maybe steam engine combined. And we made it through both of those. There was a lot of turmoil and chaos, but we did make it through both of those.We are a much more vibrant, healthy society now. We live longer and, relatively speaking, we have much more equality. There is a path where it works out, but we have to be making the decisions to make that happen. However, it’s not practical that a subset of the population makes the decisions on behalf of everyone. And that’s why I think it’s so important for people to get in the game and not see AI as this really technical device or technology, but instead, as a big social, cultural and philosophical transition. Your lived experience qualifies you to participate in these conversations; there’s nobody who can carry the weight of this on their own."
}
]
}