The Globalization Movement

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::Pulling the Rug from Under Our Feet

To Nonsense, Global

This is partly in response to some curious ideas about globalization that's been floating around, and of which I came to be aware recently. Some of the ideas:

1. Globalization derives its vitality from the classical idea of 'World Mind' (whatever that means; nous means, simply, 'mind'). The classical Greek philosophers sought to unify the world under the comforting canopy of this "Nous on steroids," et cetera. (The imbecility of the idea is measurable in megatons of marshmallow trapped in the Marianas Trench.)
2. Globalization (i.e., the movement for globalizing economic practices) is a ragbag assortment of post colonialism, religious studies (!), feminism, media studies (!!), philosophy (!!!), and economics. Milton must be turning in his grave for fear of the fleas, but he wouldn't care less.
3. Among other things, religious fundamentalism has been an ill-begotten offspring of globalization.
4. Globalization is the nickname of one of the best known hot springs in the Yellowstone National Park.
5. Globalization, or the guiding spirit of globalization, is a very old idea, probably predating the Cro-magnon.
   

A compilation of all the ideas in vogue will make me sound like a voodoo doctor or a grasshopper enthusiast, so I'll just give my take on it in as few words as possible (because globalization is something which most people are aware of, but don't care—or need—to research into).

• Globalization is an economic process. (It is exclusively and merely an economic process.)
  
• It has nothing to do with existentialism, philosophy, Julia Kristeva, women's lib, Madonna, or Lovable®. (This takes care of the entire array of items proposed in Item #2.)
  
• Globalization was not preconceived. It just fell into place.
  
• The basic idea of globalization is this: "I'd feel no qualms in robbing my neighbour, but since it is probably easier and more lucrative (and a lot less work) to rob some place in Chile or Iraq or China, I'm just relocating my process there." Thus said the Uncle, Daddy concurred, and off went all the men dragging their old Parkers and pets and licences to practise coarseness elsewhere. Lab rats were in short supply so they chose the men for the mice.
• We in the Third World (not sure if the terminology holds in the global village; probably better phrased as rest cure centres) do not need to defend globalization. We do not need to defend it until we find ourselves drinking coconut water imported from Israel (and bottled from Asian produce, of course; the label will be manufactured in China).
• And until then, we—especially the pen-pushing morons who can do no better—can of course pass the time defending it, reinventing it, while all the time it burgeons and gnaws away at our self-esteem as a nation. (But what is a nation but an outdated modernist term?)

Adios. Muchas gracias, ¡señoras y señores!

Post-Write::റാേഫലിന്.

I would have written something more in the vernacular, but Malayalam transliteration support in Google is dreadful. I expected miracles too soon. This post is a real laugh, but all I can do is direct you to Naomi Klein's new book, which is perhaps the best book so far on the impact of globalization.

When you read this, you'd be probably well over the "dead" line, so you can have a laugh if you so choose. Your guide seems a reasonable fellow, but perhaps a tad reserved in his comment. I'm sure I don't know his best side, and I guess you would some day send m just the Editor's Introduction so I can see.

Very many different stories in my head, half-formed, but finding it difficult to reconcile them under the panoply of your impressive collection grouped under 'Z'. For a change, these things happen exlusively in India and are dated at around 18-22 (sweet somethings, almost dying, in love, undoubtedly. Decided on this because it undoubtedly works, though it makes me die of boredom having to imagine all that.) Unfortunately, I find nothing, no girl certainly, even remotely appealing so I could fall head over heels. (A very difficult manoeuvre, that: head over heels. Just imagine me doubled on my back with my legs stacked in a 'Z'. And imagine me writing in that posture. And just remember I'm having to assume that posture all too often, one time too many.)