The Skeptical Optimist

Watching the Shaolin monks perform in the Singapore Arts Festival performance “Sutra” was a strange experience for me.

I could definite appreciate the acrobatic grace, fluid strength and poetic placement of kungfu in the context of a minimalist Anthony Gormley set and the beautiful evocative music of Polish composer Szymon Brzoska. Still, cross-cultural forays in art are always risky business – how much of an outsider eye are you bringing to an insular tradition? Can you ever hope to erase the perception that we are looking at non-Western performers as an exotic spectacle?

After all, the renowned Flemish-Moroccan choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui who is behind this collaborative project said it first grew out of his fascination with Bruce Lee and kungfu movies. So this Cherkaoui some how do a Quentin Tarantino Kill Bill turn in high art… well not quite. There is a real attempt, even within the work of art itself to address the difficulties and challenges of cultural dialogue, of mutual incomprehension that occurs when two different traditions meet. The work being unconscious of the kungfu stereotypes in the West, somehow paradoxically can’t escape from the overarching cliches that have fascinated outsiders for so long.

I really wonder how these monks’ lives have changed – from being isolated in the Shaolin Temple in Henan, China to touring to sold out critically acclaimed shows.

One of the most moving parts of the work I felt was when Sidi Larbi finally joins in the kungfu sequences near the end of the performance; he doesn’t pretend to have mastered the art of kungfu – instead he follows the monks’ movements through an almost gentle dance. He makes no attempt to execute their breathtaking flawless leaps into the air, he just lets the language of their bodies flow into his own somehow and turns their each stance and punch into an elegant fluid dance move. It was really something to behold. Somehow through the abstract form, an understanding was reached about how although we might never be able to truly embrace a culture alien to our own, and there is still much richness that can come out of the encounter.

The funny thing was though that watching them for me was as strange as it would have been for me to watch Spanish flamenco or African tribal dance or Brazilian capoeira. No matter how much I’ve been told otherwise, I don’t really feel Chinese in any deep fundamental cultural way. I’ve learnt, slowly and sometimes painfully that how I look has really no relation to who I am culturally.

When I was in primary school I used to flunk my listening and writing tests in Mandarin and subsequently get scolded by my Chinese language teachers for not being “Chinese” enough or for being a disgrace because I couldn’t do well in my own “mother tongue”. Nevermind that my mother only  spoke Malay and Penang Hokkien. I think somewhere between getting poked with a red pen and having my exercise book thrown on the classroom floor, I decided on a boycott. This lasted all the way until I reached university, barely scraping through with passes through each O’level, A’level milestone. I took a class in Chinese in the American college I went to to try and fulfill a requirement for my Comparative Literature degree and it was such a welcome change. There were Asian-Americans, Americans, international students all grappling with Chinese and no one ever questioned my lack of ability just because of my skin colour.

Of course it’s not just about the language, although that is, I’ve found, one of the only ways to access a lot of Chinese culture. I was brought up in a Catholic family that only followed a few Chinese traditions, namely Lunar New Year, Qing Ming and calling every relative by their appropriate title. Even then it was always slightly fusion with the oranges being taken to the church to be blessed and the grave spring cleaning followed by a rosary recitation.

So watching the monks made me realise – I’m really not Chinese at all. Not in that motherland sort of way. So what does that mean? How do I approach culture? Where do I find “roots” or “traditions”. It’s not an easy question to answer at all.

So the whole AWARE controversy has resolved itself with what some say is a return to the status quo? I would argue that seeing so many passionate women turn out in support of their beliefs is very heartening – but can this energy be sustained? And what of the Education Ministry’s turnaround in now suspending Comprehensive Sexuality Education in schools? Who has really won which battle? Does there really have to be a “battle” in the first place? Isn’t the point of civil society that you resolve differences and find consensus in a civil way? I really wonder whether this was just a storm in a teacup or whether it really points to deeper currents in my “conservative” and cautious countrymen.