In reading Lila Abu-Lughod’s piece, I found myself asking: why is it that in the US, soap operas focus on materiality and the human psyche whereas in Egypt, soaps focus on educating the culturally illiterate and transforming society into a socialist one, encouraging nationalist thought? Muhammad Fadil, a prominent Egyptian director, maintained that in a third world country, television “should not simply entertain” but “eliminate cultural illiteracy,” especially in poorer areas. In Egypt, dramas became the most popular genre on TV and, in order to eliminate cultural illiteracy, soap operas such as Hilmiyya Nights incorporated modern Egyptian history, “social and political commentary,” and moral themes into story lines. On the other hand, the American soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, (which was imported to Egypt) portrayed men and women in lavish houses and clothes dealing with problems such as cheating husbands and “taboo sexual relationships” in Western culture. In both the Egyptian and American soaps, the characters lived wealthy lifestyles—lifestyles that the majority of Egyptians only imagined: it depicted wealthy upper class society and their problems—which is not an accurate reflection of the majority of the Egyptian population. Nonetheless, lower class citizens who watched the show found pleasure in them. Even though they could not relate economically (or relate to problems characters faced) did they find pleasure in seeing how the other half lives? Why is it that Egyptians, and even people all over the world, are entertained by lifestyles, goods, and scenarios that are impossible for them to have for their own?
In Vicki Mayer’s piece on TV manufacturing laborers in Brazil and Korea, Mayer brings up an interesting point: much like television producers (recall those of Egyptian soap operas), these laborers make TV—but in a physical sense rather than a visual and creative way. However, producers are able to create freely whereas the laborers creativity was only allowed if it benefited the factory. In other words, if a worker’s creativity “assisted the production process” he would be rewarded. Factories used their workers to get practically free insight for new innovation but it also allowed laborers to break their daily routines and exercise creativity encouraged by the factory. In some cases however, as in Sueli’s and Aline’s, creativity was seen as a “personal problem” or “subversive and a threat to a work hierarchy grounded in gender and racial differences.” In a moral perspective, how is this exploitation justifiable?
Consider Abu-Lughod’s piece in relation to Meyer’s work: how can we compare the creativity of laborers, who work for below minimum wage, with TV producers who incorporate social and political aspects in current events? This clear class divide raises another question: how can anyone say whether or not a person’s creativity is valid or not? Mayer’s argument on the validity of laborer’s creativity is an answer to a producer’s target of a specific audience: “laborers…excel at the art of identifying potential new sources for profits.”
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Abu-Lughog’s piece emphasizes what she sees as a critical distinction between the American Soap Opera and television in Egypt, namely that Egyptian producers “appropriating and inflecting Western discourses on development … construct themselves as guides to modernity and assume the responsibility of producing, through their television programmes, the virtuous modern citizen”, a task vacant in the work of their American counterparts (Abu-Lughog 377). It seems as though, where in Egypt the goal of television is to craft and develop modern society, in America the soap opera aims to reflect notable aspects of modern culture. Americans show what is already believed to be true about the society. Along these lines, the prevalence of depictions of luxurious lifestyles such as those in The Bold and the Beautiful, far from positing that this is what society should be like, rather work as statement of what is already understood as a modern ideal. This difference between reflection and creation may also account for the differentiation in censoring techniques mentioned in the lead post. Taking the television program as a guide, a certain rigidity in censorship would be necessary to ensure the desired political and cultural outcome. Contrastingly, if television is merely an idealized reflection on society there is no imperative to ensure accuracy; there is nothing to lose with respect to the programs aims.
Additionally, to address the second post, in considering the pieces in conjunction with one another, one can see the stark paradox which is created. Meyer notes the reflections of Terezinha on her work in assembly line television production, that she “did everything that goes into the TV and gives it life" (Meyer 35). Regardless of which interpretation of the goals of television we ascribe to (TV as a reflection of society or a tool of cultural creation) individuals like Terezinha are explicitly left out of the world depicted on the screen. Though she gives life to the TV, the TV does not reflect her life nor does it change her way of living. This seems to reiterate the idea that TV does not touch everyone in the same way. Even those who physically have a hand in its construction may not be implicated in “television life.”
I too, like St. Andrew, found it interesting that the Egyptian people of lower classes had such interest in the Hilmiyya Nights serial, however it is point that can be seen even in Western serials as reality shows and serials have often also focused on the wealthy and famous. Like Stephanie however, I too thought it is important to acknowledge that Abu-Lughog, as well as the writer of Hilmiyya Nights, ‘Ukasha, do not consider this a soap opera like that of Falcon Crest or The Bold and the Beautiful. The essential differences between the two is made by Abu-Lughog, stating that the Hilmiyya Nights “series differed radically from any American soap opera in being historically contextualized…had the moral themes of loyalty, betrayal, corruption, thwarted desires and tragic errors embedded in an historical narrative that tied individual lives to Egyptian national political events…provided an explicit social and political commentary on contemporary Egyptian life” (Abu-Lughog, 381). This essential difference is important as we exam why, like the article pointed out, serials such as Hilmiyya Nights were much more popular and revered by Egyptian culture than a typical American soap opera.
Another point I dissent from St. Andrew on is in regards to his remarks on creativity in the article. I believe a general theme of creativity versus the censorship of such creativity can be seen throughout all three articles. ‘Ukasha “clashed with the television censors who not only commented on the screenplay but also required cuts after the filming was complete” (Abu-Lughog 382). In the “Producers as Creatives” part, Mayer’s emphasized the sanctioned and unsanctioned creativity imposed on the workers in Manaus. The unsanctioned rules limited the workers ability to communicate their ideas in terms of assembly line working. Mayer points out that “unsanctioned forms of creativity were numerous and primarily aimed at reducing the stress or boredom that the repetitive assembly motions evoked after they became routine” (Mayer 54). The third reading, “Sponsoring Selves,” also points out the lack of creativity and limitations placed on reality casters as Mayer notes that “Although a few of the casters have moved within the hierarchy of reality production, the glass ceilings for casters prevented them from moving in to more prestigious television or film genres, reinforcing the lines between the professionals who create programs and the semi professionals who merely sponsor them” (Mayer 105). All these readings bring into light the difficulties of creativity within the television industry. Is there any way to overcome such things as government censorship, work regulated censorship, or just perceived differences in segments of an industry that allow all individuals to be truly creative in their pursuits in the television industry?
As Kyle said, there is certainly a general theme of creativity in regards to television media in all three articles. And, as Geena asked, how can anyone say whether or not a person’s creativity is valid or not? As we have seen, many of these creative acts are confined due to censorship or rules amidst their workplace. What I found interesting, though, was the differences among the individuals who act creatively (tv manufacturers, reality casters, soap opera writers) and the way in which they thought of or spoke of themselves; the way they validated their own creativity. For example, Mayer writes in “Producers as Creatives”, “While structural conditions may have failed to constrain workers’ creative actions, the context of the factory did constrain the ways that assemblers could talk about creativity. None of my interviewers would ever use the word creative to describe themselves on the job.” She goes on to say, “Whether or not assemblers understood that they did something new on the job, the social agreement that assemblers were not creative conspired against them recognizing their own actions as such.” Even Aline, perhaps the worker with the greatest awareness of her own “creativity”, never explicitly says that she is in fact creative. She instead says, “You have to be imaginative to get what you want in your job. I never wanted a promotion, just to do my job well.” She ties her imaginative thinking to the demands of her job rather than generally stating her inherent creative nature. This contrasts with John in Mayer’s “Sponsoring Selves” piece, who says, “…and gay guys tend to choose more creative careers, and this is more creative than being a producer.” John explicitly talks of his career as creative, rather than simply believing that a part of his job is being creative. Similarly, ‘Ukasha, the writer of Hilmiyya Nights, complains, “Instead of insulting Egyptian drama writers by asking them to learn from such [American] programmes, columnists should request that censorship exercised on the work of Egyptian writers be lifted so that their full creativity could be enjoyed.” ‘Ukasha is pointing out that he feels his inherent creativity is being lost to Egyptian censors. Obviously, John and ‘Ukasha are free to both speak of themselves and think of themselves as creators in their respective environments, whereas many of the creative workers in Manaus are not even given the linguistic space to do so.
As far as I understood the themes of “politics of representation” and the creativity spectrum upon which Mayer touches. While creativity is a somewhat less obvious theme in Lila Abu-Lughod’s, the producers of the serial and soap-opera-esque television shows in Egypt, like ‘Ukasha’s Hilmiyya Nights, creatively incorporate Egyptian politics and history into these shows, attempting to “change people’s views on political participation and life,” as well as “educating and ‘culturing’ the poor and those outside the urban capitals” (Abu-Lughod 377-8). This brought a huge sense of national unity to Egypt, for several reasons. The majority of the characters, though some were caught up in tragedy, were “good and patriotic” people (381), and the show was aired during the time of Ramadan, when Muslims across the nation were fasting, and television was an easy way to pass the time. However there was some politics of representation to this, considering the censorship applied to Ukasha’s work censored his creativity as well. But many, including historians like Dr Abd el-Azim Ramadan and others, also believed the show and its educational message were brilliant. The politics surrounding the show, to me, fall under the “politics of representation,” for which the nation and its new socialist ideals were being represented.
The creativity spectrum Mayer discusses ranges from the “creative producer,” to the actors, the cameramen, the screenwriter, and at the end, the television manufacturers. I don’t think that Mayer was trying to prove that the art of assembling alone is creative. I believe she was talking more about how the process and result of the production of the television was creative compared to less “unique” and rational actions performed everyday. I suppose I’ve always assumed there are people out there in charge of television assembly, though I have not thought about it very much until I read these articles, so television assembly does sound like a unique job to me. I also think its important to note how important this taboo sense of creativity is for the workers. “Factory workers faced a bind to create themselves, given the confines of a political economy with few better alternatives,” Mayer argues. The quote from worker Terezinha, “I did everything that goes into the TV and gives it life,” seems to have stood out to a lot of us as readers this week, including myself. Terezinha is creative, for creating this media of creativity.
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