Privilege Guilt

 I suppose all social scientists struggle to connect with people who don't share their political views. Or, maybe, only the sanctimonious ones do. The meet-up walk to Brecon beacons yesterday had two South Africans. I am wary of bringing up the topic of race with white South Africans, just as I would never bring up the question of caste or Modi with Indians. I stay away from these topics because chances are, I wouldn't like what I hear. Living in countries as riven with disparities is South Africa and India requires one to unsee stuff that would horrify an outsider. I want to say the conversation naturally turned towards race, but the truth is I was curious about their views. So, I brought up JM Coetzee, who is one of my favourite authors. He is a white South African, but race relations are a big theme in his novels, and he writs sensitively and incisively. The South African woman on the trek said his white characters are always villains and black characters are saints. I replied that that wasn't the case, at least in one of his most famous works. She admitted the point, but mentioned a more recent work that I hadn't read. And, then she talked about how Black South Africans don't see racism as their biggest problem, and are more concerned about poverty, corruption, etc. I remained silent, but felt like a sanctimonious twat afterwards. I remember feeling distinctly uncomfortable when a conversation with a friend and her friend turned to privileged Indians. At the time, I felt that I am well aware of my privilege, and didn't need to be reminded about it by someone who I had just met, and who had already pissed me off for an unrelated reason. But, I suppose everyone get uncomfortable when their privilege is brought up. The ones who are not aware of it. But, even people who are aware of it like to talk about it on their own terms and I have to admit that there is some virtue-signaling involved, at least in my case.