+ interview with Stephanie Black, director of Life and Debt
Reflections
"You see yourself. You see yourself." As you hear
these words in Stephanie Black's Life and Debt,
you see a montage of touristy images: lovely Jamaican
hotel room linens, a balcony view of a perfect beach,
perfectly tanned foreigners, even a wedding between a
couple of tourists set against a backdrop of perfectly
blue surf. Everything is so pretty, just as you'd
expect when you've paid good money for your vacation
package.
But by the time this travel-brochure-ish sequence
appears, some 15 minutes into the documentary, it's
hard to feel impressed by the luxury you're looking
at, much less hear Jamaica Kincaid's accusatory
narration (adapted from her 1987 nonfiction book about
her own island home, Antigua, entitled A Small
Place and read in the film by Belinda Becker). For
by now, you've seen a little too much evidence that
globalization -- with help from the International
Monetary Fund, the World Bank, the Inter-American
Development Bank (IADB), U.S. corporations and "free
trade" policies -- has decimated Jamaica's economy.
By now, you've seen the dire discrepancies between
lovely vacation haven Montego Bay -- blue sea, white
sand, drinks with umbrellas stuck in them -- and
Kingston, where Jamaican sweatshop workers provide
tax-free labor, at $30 U.S. a week, for companies like
Tommy Hilfiger and Hanes; or between once successful
dairy, chicken, and banana farmers, now ruined by U.S.
powdered milk and chicken imports, and Chiquita and
Dole produce. As the film recounts, the Chiquita
debacle included a police rout of workers attempting
to strike in 1993, during which 23 people were killed.
If you're a tourist, however, you see no such
disturbances. Death, poverty, misery -- these are what
the "visitors' industry" is designed to cover over.
When you're on vacation, you're "allowed" to be
ignorant; this is the privilege of privilege. The
irony in this case is that tourism is one of Jamaica's
few remaining viable -- even thriving -- industries
(along with coffin manufacturing and guard-dog
training). And so, Life and Debt makes the
connections for you, refusing to let you off the hook.
The narrator describes how the sewage system works (or
rather, doesn't, dumping waste into the ocean) or how
the beef industry has been ruined by cheap frozen
"patties" shipped in from the States. Such information
rather puts a damper on the sights you see from the
tour bus window you see on the way to the hotel,
passing Baskin-Robbins and McDonald's and Burger
Kings, and an assortment of "natives" who, as Kincaid
describes them, are "squatting by the side of the
road... hanging out with all the time in the world."
But as former Jamaican Prime Minster Michael Manley
(elected on an anti-IMF platform in 1976, then forced,
by lack of alternatives, to sign agreements anyway, in
1977) explains, they're only idle because they're put
out of work by years of brutal international tax and
tariff structures and labor laws.
Much like Black's previous documentary, 1990's H2
Worker (a look at the exploitation of Caribbean
sugar cane workers, which occasioned her first
encounter with Jamaican cultures), Life and
Debt argues its case aggressively, never even
pretending to be "objective." Shot in part by
brilliant U.S. cinematographer Malik Sayeed
(Clockers, Belly), Life and Debt
juxtaposes harsh TV footage of rioting and
poverty-stricken neighborhoods with shots of street
markets and art, reggae musicians and Rastamen talking
politics and spirituality. Through judicious editing,
it sets up an "imaginary conversation" between the
outraged Manley (who died shortly after the interview
from which his comments are culled) and the imperious
Stanley Fischer, speaking for the IMF. He deploys
standard diplomatic double-speak: "In an IMF Program,
there'll be some assumptions about the way interest
rates will go," that is, these assumptions -- and
interest rates -- will be imposed on the borrower, in
order to best serve the lending institution, and no
one is precisely responsible, because all the language
is passive.
To make its case, the film also includes a brief
history lesson, with archival footage and political
speeches, intercut with scenes showing the devastating
results of the accumulating national debt (at present,
Jamaica owes $4.7 billion to various lending
agencies). The history lesson is necessarily
elliptical and referential, but harrowing nonetheless.
Queen Elizabeth announces the island's independence in
a ceremony that has nothing to do with the land and
people she's affecting; and in 1976, newly elected PM
Michael Manley asserts Jamaica's new policy,
asserting, "The Jamaican government will not accept
anybody, anywhere in the world, telling us what to do
in our own country. Above all, we're not for sale."
Sadly, this speech, made some 25 years ago, now
refers to a momentary effort to resist the
overwhelming force of globalization, and the very real
decisions made by people in power. What you see now is
a sad, terrible picture, not the way you want to see
yourself reflected at all.