Telling a truth as a story…
I never give much thought about it as I think that telling something is automatically storytelling where you build a narrative that revolves around a topic which eventually ends in truth being laid bare.
Last week I have my Pitching Your Stories, Service, and Products class, hoping to learn a thing or two about pitching in corporate or fund raising context. During one of the session by Joshua Reynolds, he mentioned “everyone has their own truth to assert” which makes me remember that while something can happen in real life, the narrative in which we perceive as truth may be different for each individual. Reality is a narrative we build and choose to believe in.
After class, I was hit with a sudden fatigue which still lingers until this very moment while I type this blog, and during my walk home my brain wanders around and stumble upon Plato’s allegory and his tale about the people in the cave watching shadow made by others and perceive it as a truth. I remember the ending where the freed person who finally see the ‘real’ world outside the cave returned and try to convince their friends only to be threatened and accused of telling lies. So much different compared to how Neo was perceived as a saviour after knowing the truth of The Matrix.
Is pitching like capturing and imprisoning some person with their own perception of reality, and try to convince them of our version of reality until they willingly subsided and swallow the narrative we impose on them as their new version of truth? And in return, they will happily invest—time, money, energy, etc.—on our narrative of truth that we ourselves are still working on to bring into realisation.
This reminds me of the World As Story presentation where my group speak about colonial narratives regarding the stewardship of unethically obtained artefacts by institutions of authority from a powerful nation who—through their website, exhibition, public programs, publication—impose a narrative to the public that they might just happen to obtain it through legal means, citing outdated and politically questionable regulations—such as permit from an empire who conquer the civilisation in which the artefact is taken from—which harms the original owner of the artefact. Moreover, there is bias in which these objects are contested and returned, for some artefact are able to be returned in the grounds of moral and compassion towards the original owner. In what grounds that these authoritative institutions decide which approach is suitable when encountering contestation of an artefact that is owned by one cultural group and another?
Further justification of this right of stewardship also extends to the diminishing of other culture’s knowledge system by pitching the narrative of—self proclaimed—’Guardian of Human History’ which have all the technological advantage to preserve these artefacts. However, traditionally, each culture, if not conquered and structurally destroyed in almost every aspect, have their own way of preservation method for their artefacts. Take the Javanese Keris blade for example, as a relic imbued with spiritual energy according to the Javanese spiritual belief, there is a procession called Jamasan (to bathe or to purify). This ritual while it seems like a practice of spiritual belief, the material, substances, and stages of these bathing or purifying ritual of these blades gets rid of rust in the blade, sharpens it, brings back it’s shine, and unique patterns for centuries. On top of that, it connects the people with their culture through practicing what their ancestors did hundreds of years ago, linking them to the past, giving a deeper understanding of themselves individually and communally, strengthening the roots of their identity in the rapidly changing society. Clearly it is different when it is inside a glass cube, displayed on top of a vitrine and never been ‘preserved’ as it should be preserved, as a relic, not artefact.
The practice of approaching Keris blades as artefact for an object of thought exercise and elite academic discourse is not apparent in Javanese culture—I don’t know in other cultures—since Keris as ageman (a relic that has spiritual energy that gives you positive effects such as luck or protection) is intertwined within the life of Javanese people as something that we just naturally… Do.
Instead of thinking about it, we work on it. Through working on it, we naturally think about it, ngelmu iku kelakone kanthi laku which loosely translated into “learning by doing”. And through constantly practicing our tradition, we constantly re-contextualise it throughout the passage of time, keeping it relevant and established in our society, that is the idea and narrative about Javanese culture I want to pitch to people, including my own.
Cogito, ergo sum, said Descartes. Laboro, ergo sum, said my ancestors.
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