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April 24, 2006
The importance of image
Around a week ago I tried to visit the local museum, and when it was locked I sat down in the plaza to relax a little. I saw an older fellow also enjoying the afternoon and his cigarette and I decided to ask a simple question about the name of the plaza. He turned out a sort of museum himself and wanted to tell me all about the historical names of plazas and streets in Cádiz. Not only that, but went I asked about some other parts of Spain’s story, he was eager to tell about Andalucía’s hard times with poverty and hunger, immigration movements to Buenos Aires, and later, about the changes that Spain has seen through the transition from Franco’s dictatorship to democracy. “It was a change that happened overnight,” he said. Politically, that may have been the case (or maybe felt that way), but I have some questions about how the 1975 transition has still influenced today’s culture in Spain.
He told me about how during the dictatorship, everyone had to be calladito, quiet, on their guard. You never knew who might be the one who might have some allegiance toward the dictatorship who could turn you in for complaining or “conspiring” against the government. Many “agitators,” some who were more agitators than others, were carried off by the firing squad to the pit behind the Puerta de Tierra wall. People learned to question their neighbors, even families.
My friend in the plaza told me that he felt that that suspicion dissipated with the transition to democracy. He might be right. At the same time, I’ve been impressed by the amount of defending one’s image or actions can be. I remember first noticing the tendency in Ceuta. I felt like everyone was best friends with the ones they were with so they could talk about what some other person had done wrong or been out of line in someway or another. Every step of the way people wanted to make it clear that they had nothing to do with whatever problem was on the table. Since then I’ve continued to notice tendency frequently. There is a cycle of distrust that seems to permeate different groups.
Image takes different forms. My host dad laughed at a long-sleeve t-shirt I wore one day and couldn’t believe I went out in the street in what he thought looked like “pajamas.” (Fortunately with the warmer weather, I haven’t needed to wear it since!) The Semana Santa processionals and the Catholic churches hold high images that represent perfection and purity. Interestingly, I haven’t gotten the sense that image is characterized by jobs or possessions like in the US. That honor may be found more in the social ladder represented by who you know.
There’s another thought, an observation on cross-cultural interaction. It seems that in times when we struggle to understand our image or define our identity we tend to quickly analyze and judge the identity or the culture around us, trying to make sense out of our world. When we become more comfortable with our surroundings, it isn’t until we pull ourselves together into classrooms or conferences before we think about evaluating our culture. Whether we consciously think about it or not, we all try to maintain a certain image (although we might use other words for that). It seems that sometimes we can choose to let the same similarities and differences in between us drive us apart or bring us together. Perhaps that which is actually closest to us threatens us most.
I remember waking up early to pray with the Franciscans at the Cruz Blanca in Tangier, Morocco. I think the famous prayer that guides their ministry is a wise approach to this question of identity or image. “O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek… to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love…”
Posted by Derrick at April 24, 2006 09:19 AM