Eric Valli's film Himalaya (Perrin & Barratier, 1999) captures the everyday struggle of the Dolpo-pa, a fast-disappearing primitive Tibetan tribe living in the remote northern Dolpo region of Nepal (Kino International, 1999; Braun, 2001). Before the harsh winter arrives, the tribe's clans must make their annual trek through the rugged mountains and across the fertile southern plains. There, they will exchange salt extracted from the high areas with grain grown in the temperate southern area.
Against the backdrop of this annual caravan, we witness the generational struggle between Tinle—an elder tribe leader—and Karma—the ambitious leader of a rival clan of young Dolpo-pas. Weeks before the annual caravan, Tinle's son, Lhakpa, is killed while on a salt-gathering expedition. Tinle blames Karma for Lhakpa's death, accusing him of trying to wrest control of the tribe. Angered and grieving over his son's death—and facing the prospect of relinquishing his family's control of the tribe—Tinle insists on leading the tribe until his grandson, Tsering, is old enough to continue in his father's footsteps.
Unfortunately, Tinle is far too frail physically to command the tribe and nearly gets his men killed as he leads his own caravan to the lowlands. Karma, while clearly the best man to lead the tribe, is himself so cavalier and stubborn that he ignores Tinle's years of experience and his admonishment not to lead a caravan in the face of an impending snowstorm. In the end, both make the trek successfully, but each acknowledges his own hubris—along with one another's wisdom and courage.
Valli's film gives us an excellent window through which to appreciate the difficult process of personal identity development and continuity between generations. Erikson's (1950) conceptualisation of the "Eight Stages of Man" helps us more clearly understand what happens during these processes. As we move from childhood to youth, we are innately driven to form a personal sense of identity that is both true to ourselves and that "has a place" in society at large. This mutuality—in both modern, industrialised societies and primitive cultures such as the Dolpo-pa—is often expressed in the choice of one's "career". As we forge our personally and socially acceptable identities, the generations before us—ie, our parents and elders—aim to contribute to the life cycle by influencing our identity development (Erikson, quoted in Coleman, 1988). They do this by giving advice, telling stories, mentoring, or insisting that one leads one's life the same as one's elders have.
Yet how do the stages of identity development and generativity actually start? If our personal identity and drive to generativity are partly guided by social demands (eg, the need for productive workers and the need for elders to act as role models for them), then major social milestones will undoubtedly signal the beginning of identity and generativity contemplation. But what makes us actually choose from among the products of this contemplation? What makes us finally commit to one identity over the next, to one way of influencing future generations over another? I suggest that there are specific "precipitating factors" that play this role, many of which are evident in Valli's film. They include time pressures, the salient prospect of life and death, and moments of isolation and solitude.
In Western, industrialised societies, young adults sometimes have upwards of a decade to start solidifying their basic identities. The Dolpo-pa in Himalaya do not have this luxury. Because their very survival depends on trading salt for grain, they are very much under the control of the seasons. Nature will not wait a decade until a potential leader decides he wants to lead a caravan down to the lowlands. Thus Karma—who may have for a very long time contemplated replacing Lhakpa—is forced to decide once and for all to identify as the young Dolpo-pas' leader. Similarly, as Tinle realises he may not have much longer to live, he must decide once and for all how he will best influence his future generations (in this case, by grooming grandson Tsering as leader). Thus, actual identity selection and generativity are both spurred by the same precipitating factor—time.
More than time itself, the actual prospect of life and death—of one's finitude on this earth—is another such precipitating factor. When Karma finds Tinle collapsed in the snow, he realises how quickly death can present itself. Indeed, it could easily have been Karma face down in the snow! As he encounters Tinle, Karma is forced to think about the value of an individual life. If we consider the core of an individual life to be a personal identity, then I might suggest that the prospect of death propels Karma to think very strongly about his own personal identity—particularly because his identity is so similar to Tinle's (both are stubborn, tenacious, and courageous men). Essentially, in facing Tinle's death, Karma faces his own. If Tinle had ignored the gods' prophecies, he might have been caught right in the middle of the storm—and would most certainly have perished. But because he heeded the divinations, he survived. This realisation, coupled with the moment of acute contemplation that occurs with the prospect of his own death, precipitates Karma's selection of a new identity—as a leader who relies not only on his own logic, but on guidance from the gods. I think this parallels what we see with victims of car accidents and other life-threatening traumas. After their experiences, many such victims pledge to become "new people", whether it be more authentic, more compassionate, or more respectful people.
Moments of isolation and solitude can also spur identity formation and specific acts of generativity. When Tinle reaches Karma's caravan, he decides to continue his voyage before the storm strikes. Karma, on the other hand, believes his own caravan is too tired to go on and so he elects to spend two days resting. With much of the village's men gone (or sitting amongst themselves debating Karma's leadership competence), Karma essentially experiences two days of isolation and solitude. Because isolation—real or imagined—sometimes creates the impression that people are against us, we automatically start criticising our own identities (again, the core of who we are). This becomes painfully apparent when we see Karma standing all by himself with only his yaks at his side—brooding as all the other men either rest in their tents or leave with Tinle. We see the same with Tinle as the other tribal elders surround him and question his own leadership abilities. After this episode, we see a Tinle who is more determined than ever to continue his family line by holding on to power until Tsering is old enough to lead. Thus, the same isolation that both Tinle and Karma experience acts as a precipitating factor for both identity formation and solidification of a particular mode of generational continuity.
Being actually "confronted" by other generations is another precipitating factor. Consistent with their desire for generativity, older generations can hasten younger generations' decisions regarding identity. But younger generations can also have a potent effect. In Karma's case, it is young Tsering who spurs him to make some decisions. Tsering looks up to Karma as an all-powerful leader who also happens to be "hip" (recall that Karma teaches Tsering how to shoot bows and arrows). When young people who themselves will soon start forging an identity look up to us, we become flattered enough that we make identity decisions consistent with their views of us. Tsering sees Karma as wild and cavalier, and, accordingly, Karma confirms for himself an identity as a buccaneering leader. The content of this identity may always have been in Karma's mind, but it is Tsering who actually "tips the balance" and leads Karma to openly confirm his identity. Tsering is also a precipitating factor for Tinle. As he sees in Tsering the image of his deceased son, Tinle becomes all the more resolved to fight for his family line. Again, although both Karma and Tinle may have contemplated as much, they do not fully affirm identity and generativity until they are "prompted" by Tsering to do so.
Personal identity and issues of generativity are no doubt influenced by a wide variety of people. However, when we are "bombarded" with a flurry of opinions all at the same time, we stop contemplating identity and generativity issues and actually start making concrete choices. I think we do this in order to prevent the confusion that this "bombardment" can create. As Karma's men become wary of their own survival, we see them standing side-by-side around Karma, each volleying his own opinion about Karma's ability to lead. To gain some control of the situation, Karma re-affirms his confidence in his own leadership. "If we survive," he says, "it will be because of me—and me alone." In the face of a multitude of opinions from his men, Tinle invokes his dead son's name and boldly vows once again to lead his own caravan to success. In both cases, the flurry of opinions as to their leadership spurs both Karma and Tinle to re-affirm both identity and generativity.
Not only do precipitating factors influence identity and generativity per se, but they also colour how we see one another's struggle with these issues. We can return to time as the best example of this. The realisation by both Karma and Tinle that a leader must be chosen before the winter season approaches makes their battle for power particularly intense. Knowing that their decisions as to identity and generativity will determine the life/death of their village, the two men are forced to make definite affirmations. Karma re-affirms his role as leader, and Tinle re-affirms his role as keeper of the family line. Unfortunately, as they do this, their stances become increasingly polarised. This polarisation prevents the two men from understanding one another's perspective, and, ultimately, from working together. This inevitably puts the village's fate in jeopardy.
Yet the passage of time—as expressed in the realisation of the finitude of one's life—puts an end to this. As mentioned earlier, it is the moment when Karma encounters Tinle in the snow that he faces the finitude of his own life and finally accepts the value in heeding the gods' prophecies. This appreciation helps Karma understand why Tinle is so concerned with leading the caravan in his son's name: if he does not do something now, he will die and have no further time to do something that maintains continuity of his own family. Similarly, the prospect of his own death prompts Tinle to understand Karma's cavalierness and hubris. If death results from the passage of time, then Tinle realises why Karma was so eager and impatient to lead his own caravan. The passage of time marks the eventual death of one's identity—the death of one's self. To ward off death, Karma must work against time. In both cases, as Karma and Tinle are sensitised to the passage of time (through the prospect of death), they are prompted to appreciate one another's perspective.
The role of time as such a precipitating factor is echoed when we think of the role of seasons in this film. When towards the end of the movie Tinle and Karma make a successful voyage to the lowlands, we see a dramatic change in seasons. The dark, dreary clouds and the snow part way to soaring, blue skies and gliding eagles. This perfectly parallels the same change in perspective we see in both Tinle and Karma.
We spend much of our lives contemplating our personal identities and the ways in which we will ensure continuity from one generation to the next. Erikson has written extensively on the social influences that inform this contemplation (Erikson, 1950; 1968). Yet I do not think that we have spent enough time looking at those situational factors—what I have called "precipitating factors"—that can push us to actually choose identities and modes of continuity (even if these choices are only temporary). We may ask whether the exploration in this paper is nothing more than an exercise in literary minutiae. Perhaps it is. To my mind, however, I think it is critical to explore such "precipitating factors". From a clinical and counselling point of view, an appreciation of them may help a counsellor foretell when a client will actually "make the plunge" and put his new identity "to the test". This is critical knowledge because it is precisely at these moments that the client will need added support and encouragement. Without such reinforcement, clients run the risk of fearing the actualisation of what Erikson felt were epigenetic drives. To my mind, nothing could be worse than thinking about one's identity or generativity but not being able to live it out. Indeed, as we see in Himalaya, this could easily mean the difference between life and death.
Braun, D. (2001, June 21). "With Himalaya, National Geographic photographer moves to Big Screen." National Geographic [Online]. Available: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/06/0621_himalaya.html
Coleman, J. (1998). Intimate relationships, marriage, and families. New York: Macmillan.
Erikson, E.H. (1950). Childhood and society (2nd ed.). New York: W.W. Norton.
Erikson, E.H. (1968). Identity, youth and crisis. New York: W.W. Norton.
Kino International (1999). Himalaya: Pressbook. New York: Kino International.
Perrin, J., & Barratier, C. (Producers), & Valli, E. (Director), 1999. Himalaya:
L'enfance d'un chef. [Film].
Copyright © 2002, by Eddy M. Elmer
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