Columnists

Identity and Assimilation

by I.J. SINGH

 

In the United States, the ongoing debate on immigrants and how they might shape this society seems largely centered on the growing Latino population. But, soon enough, it will surely spill over on our existence as well. 

At this time, our numbers here are small.  Sikhs often take comfort in the fact that we mostly inhabit the upper end of the food chain.  Yet, many of us do look different, because of our turbans and beards.  Our religious practices, language, music and culture, even our cuisine, set us apart.

There is a raging debate in this country on what assimilation means.  Many Americans  -  good-hearted people  -  have begun to resent the growing intrusion, as they see it, of Spanish displacing English from its embedded primary position.  When the language, cuisine and culture of immigrants find a visible niche in the mainstream, many see it as strains that weaken the composite American society.

Of course, people like me look for comfort in neighborhoods such as Chinatown and Little Italy in New York, or Mississauga in Canada, where banks, telephone kiosks and street signs come in English, as well as the languages of the immigrants. 

We also draw strength from the bilingual culture of Canada, particularly visible in the French-speaking province of Quebec, which appears to enhance, not weaken, the bonds that unite Canadians.

I have argued elsewhere for moving away from the concept of a melting pot to define societies in transition, and have suggested that we think less of monoliths and more in terms of mosaics or multi-instrument orchestras to define our existence.

The issues of identity and assimilation preoccupy us for much of our lives, from birth to death.  How much of the self is it right to lose in our relationships, and how much to preserve and assert as a definition of who we are?  It is not an easy question. 

Children wrestle with their ties to their parents.  Adults continue to struggle with the same question  -  both in personal and professional human connections, and in those with their country or religion.  The most difficult time for us is during adolescence, when our conflicting loyalties are difficult to discern and parse, when the sense of self is still not very clear.

The boundaries that proclaim our identity are important to us.  Blurring them is not an easy matter; they are like fences between good neighbors, essential but never airtight.

A nation is not unlike a large family.  Members of the same family, even twins with totally identical genetic stock, significantly diverge as they grow and mature.  So, differences deserve to be celebrated, not suppressed.

Horse and dog  breeders, as well as farmers, have always recognized the principle of hybrid vigor. Plants, animals and human societies that mate first cousins or closer relatives show extraordinarily high incidences of congenital malformations.  As a wag opined, "Inbreeding produces idiocy".

In that, I think Punjab, Punjabis and the larger body of Sikhs who boast of Punjabi roots, have lucked out. Whether it was for India's silk or its spices, from time immemorial, invaders and traders have crossed through the Middle East, hurtled through the Khyber Pass, which lies between India and Afghanistan, and found themselves in Punjab  -  to return, perish or stay. 

Anthropologists tell us that, most likely, the Caucasians of Asia Minor went two separate ways: towards Europe and towards Punjab, via the land route through the Khyber Pass. 

Alexander the Great brought his Greek hordes to Punjab.  This was also the path trod by the Mongols, Mughals, Arabs, Persians and countless others. Much later, Vasco Di Gama found his way by sea, as did the British, French, Portuguese and Dutch, but the sea-lanes to India remain a more recent phenomenon.

The Muslim invaders of Punjab saw a rich land with five rivers flowing through it, and changed its name to reflect that fact; the land was called "Panchaal" in ancient lore.

I know that India is not a homogenous country. In fact, it is like the European Union, comprised of many different cultures, languages and cuisines. And nowhere is that difference quite so obvious as when traveling through the rest of India and into Punjab, from where most Sikhs descend.

True hybrids, Punjab and Punjabis are most easily noted for their vigorous folk music and dances, their love of the land, their boisterous lives, almost gross humor and their legendary prowess at war; these then become an unexcelled testament to the biological principle of hybrid vigor. Theirs is an existence that is larger than life.

It is so self-evident that North America owes its energy, its vibrancy, indeed its inventiveness to the eclectic mix of immigrants from all over the world, that I prefer to let the statement stand without further elaboration. In time, and over the course of some generations, a patina of unity overlays and connects even the most diverse people.  Assimilation, however, never means unanimity of opinion, homogeneity of thought, or uniformity of action in living societies. 

In the modern global reality of a single world connected by growing trade and transfer of human capital across political borders, nurturing of diversity would only enrich us all.

Emerson reminds us, "A nation, like a tree, does not thrive well till it is engrafted with a foreign stock".

It would be good to keep in mind the teaching of Guru Granth, "I see no stranger"!

 

[Third image from bottom, on this page: detail from photo by Yasmin Etemadi. Thumbnail: detail from the painting, "The World is One Family", by Norman Rockwell.]

 

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