A little while back, a friend introduced me to "Bald and Bankrupt". He's a Youtuber who travels the world, filming his adventures and finding his way with little more than a selfie stick and a generous dose of charisma. He seems to know every language and fits seamlessly into whatever society he finds himself in, chatting with locals, filming the sights, and (more often than not) sniffing out the booze. It is a wildly entertaining street-level view into another part of the world.
One episode (link here), which I’d recommend to everyone, found him exploring Dharavi, the sprawling slum of Mumbai. I’ll admit that my idea of slums, probably like most people, was not pretty—crime, poverty, squalor, noise and congestion, and choking smog. My impression was a dog-eat-dog (or maybe just eat-dog) world of angry, sickly, desperate people.
But seeing it through his eyes, as a real place with real people, was something else entirely. Bald and Bankrupt, AKA Benjamin Rich, takes us through the narrow, chaotic streets and alleyways of Dharavi, shooting the sights and talking us through what we are seeing. It is a whirlwind of a ride. In just 45 uncut minutes, he discovers the Muslim and Hindu sections of the slum, meets a group of children flying kites outside a derelict high-rise, gets a head massage from a street booth, explores makeshift temples, wades through meat and fish markets, and plays with homemade firecrackers, all the while striking up congenial banter with shopkeepers, housewives, teenagers, and schoolchildren.
For a westerner (a relatively seclusive one at that), it is sensory overload, even in video form. But seeing it for the first time was like having a light turned on in an unused corner of my mind. Even amid the blaring of horns, trash-strewn streets, and raw sewage, here were people optimistic, industrious, and making do with what they can. Pursuing a better life and aspiring to dreams just as bold as any others. I daresay happy. I found myself slightly ashamed at my prejudice, that I could be so unimaginative.
It’s hard to figure out exactly what forces are at play in the video. Rich’s narration is easy and entertaining, and there is never a shortage of things to see. I’m jealous of his fluency and ease in unfamiliar situations. But watching him is made all the more compelling by the other things: the smiles of strangers, the pride of a country and its people, the soft yellow glow of a warm evening. Like a stroll in the park. Within sight of the glassy skyscrapers of the business district, the raw, overflowing exuberance of humanity.
The media portrays only a small slice of life overseas, largely tailored to our American tastes and engineered to hold our attention for the sake of advertisements or some other scheme. Even environmental organizations are guilty of this, often highlighting the ugliest parts of the human story to gin up fundraising dollars. Rarely do we get a portrayal it on its own terms.
Take another story most probably saw this year. India’s cities have notoriously poor air quality. In March, the Indian government imposed a strict nationwide lockdown to curb the spread of COVID-19, closing factories and keeping millions of cars and buses off the roads. In New Delhi, PM 2.5 particulate dropped by an astonishing 71% (from 96 to 26 µg/m3) in the space of a week (the WHO considers anything above 25 to be a health risk). As a result, the Himalayas were visible for the first time in 30 years from northern cities across the country, from as far as 125 miles.
Those images were hailed by many as an unexpected success of 2020, a silver lining to an otherwise bleak set of circumstances. If nothing else, it was a ray of hope for people in the region, many of whom have lived their entire lives never seeing the mountains.
Air pollution killed more Indians last year than any other cause. Particulate emitted from coal power plants, internal combustion engines, the burning of crops, and open fires for cooking and heating often contains toxic arsenic or lead and is small enough to enter the bloodstream through the lungs. Prolonged exposure can lead to chronic health problems such as asthma, cardiovascular disease, and liver and brain damage, and has been shown to detract years from life. Even within India, there are radical disparities based on class (or caste). Wealthier families live in homes with better sealing windows and doors and purchase purifiers to clean indoor air. Poorer families have no such option. For them, air quality is often not even a concern as they struggle to meet more basic needs.
We’ve all seen the awful images: smog blotting out a city skyline, bathers in the sludge-filled Ganges (drinking water source for 400 million people), children sifting through piles of trash, the hellish process of recovering precious metals from electronics. The heartbreak of knowing people endure those conditions. Pollution, though, is not entirely the peoples’ making. In large part, it is western corporations that outsourced labor, manufacturing, and waste disposal to the lowest bidder, sticking the people in those places with the results. The Indian government in turn has made it de facto policy not to care that much about pollution, seeing rapid economic growth, which has lifted millions of people out of poverty, as worth the tradeoff.
On top of that, the global south will be disproportionately affected by climate change. Developing nations and their people lack the ability to sufficiently prepare for the effects of sea level rise, drought, and other natural disasters precisely where they are forecasted to be most intense. They will bear the brunt of the forces set in motion by an affluent minority who can largely insulate themselves from the worst impacts.
One billion people. What do we owe them? Certainly not our pity. The magic of Bald and Bankrupt is that an unfiltered view of another part of the world makes it instantly recognizable. People everywhere work hard for a living, are upset with their governments, and want to see their children do better than themselves. There is happiness and resilience to be found in even the foulest of places, even the most dire of situations. They are not victims, and imposing that label does them a disservice. Rather, we owe them a seat at the table. The dignity of an apology and an outstretched hand in partnership for a better future.
It’s ironic that all this should be happening where it is. India is, after all, the land of the Buddha, rich in beauty in both culture and landscapes. The Pali words for nature are loka and yathabhuta, roughly translated as “world” and, intriguingly, “things as they really are”. Degradation of the physical world, then, is by definition also degradation of its psycho-spiritual dimension. The world’s religions are full of this concept, in various names and forms. Take care of the gifts you are given—earth, sky, and water—they say, for they are the same as you. Even the Pope weighed in on the harmful impacts mankind is causing in the natural world, calling on leaders to take “swift and unified global action” against climate change, pollution, and rampant consumerism. Protecting the Earth and its resources is a moral imperative, necessary to securing a prosperous and healthy future for humanity.
A central tenet of Buddhism is the impermanence of all things. The world is in constant change, lurching ever-forward. But recognition of impermanence is not nihilism. On the contrary, it is an emphatic embrace of all that there is, a saying YES to life in all its aspects. Despite hardship and unfairness, people continue to write their own stories, carving out their place in history and existence. That’s what you see in the video. An unwillingness to be broken by the circumstances of life. Perhaps there’s something to be learned from that example.
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