Shedding Yoga's Nationalistic Skin

It is well accepted by now that the world of yoga is undergoing change—a "paradigm shift" as posited by many—in terms of narrative, pedagogy, safety, supply and demand, to name but a few shifts. This is only natural, as the history of yoga is rediscovered in the sense of being first contextualized as well as "factualized" through painstaking research. That is, we are moving away from establishing authority (of what yoga is or the true and authentic way to practice) "by means of hagiography and the editorializing of memory" (Singleton, 2010; e-loc 238).

We are on a yoga truth train, probably mid-journey or so, slowly but surely wriggling out of the skin of what I feel has been a nationalistic model of historical presentation to a more fluid, evolving and expanding model of belonging.

Over the last few years, I have slowly but steadily learned that a lot of what I was taught in history class as a young Bulgarian child and student has been at best romantically exaggerated and embellished, usually creatively interpreted, and plainly untrue and made up at worst. A recent two-part article by Ivan D. Stoyanov (available through librev.com and in Bulgarian only) provides a fascinating perspective on one of the most revered periods in the individual and collective Bulgarian psyche: our Vuzrazhdane (Revival or Renaissance) period (roughly 18th century until 1878), which is popularly presented as the period in which the Bulgarian people organically initiated the process of self-determination and national identification in the face of the Ottoman oppressor, which culminated with the liberation of Bulgaria from Ottoman/Turkish yoke (with the help of the "bratushki," i.e. Russia) and established the modern Bulgarian nation-state.

Officially, the Vuzrazhdane period is the history of the (re)birthing and becoming of the Bulgarian nation. The root of the word, razhdane, means birth. The prefix vuz- means either to do something again or to do something that leads to a result. One can say that the Vuzrazhdane period is ontological to what it means to be a Bulgarian.

Instead, Stoyanov argues that nationalism in Bulgaria and elsewhere was championed by newly emergent local capitalist elites/classes as a revolt or emancipation against the feudal framework of their societies. It was a quest for more economic, political and educational rights; that is, it was class struggle, not national struggle. Nationalism proved a great tool—a convenient "us" versus "them" framework complete with territorial claims—for these new elites to gain political capital, influence and power, especially when employed over masses of population characterized by low literacy rates, lack of socioeconomic development, and a largely survivalist way of life.

The ideology of nationalism and the nation-state is intimately dependent on how history is taught and narrated for mass consumption, especially to a young, impressionable and malleable population (children and young adults), primarily relying on an external enemy and constantly instilling a sense of superiority over and hate toward that enemy (whether concrete or more diffuse) in order to promote social cohesion at home and raise willing soldiers for the inevitable future aggressions or injustices against the nation-state.

As such, history exists in at least two forms: one for a small circle of professional scholar-historians and amateur enthusiasts and the other for the masses. The latter version is a lot more entertaining, often based on single or multiple personality cults, which are cultivated to mesmerize (or dumb down, some might say) the masses. This model of mythologized historical presentation for mass consumption has become clearly outdated and no longer serves the needs of the Bulgarian people and their society.

Similarly, the 21st century has seen scholarly research on yoga starting to seep into and inform the knowledge and practice of contemporary committed practitioners. Mark Singleton (2010), in Yoga Body, documents the quite recent (as opposed to ancient) origins of modern postural yoga practice, despite that fact that "factionalism and vested interests in the management of memory are still alive and well in the realm of modern yoga" (e-loc 236).

A lot of the historical narrative of 20th century yoga was based on creative interpretation of historical fact and some fantastical storytelling, often centered around gurus or charismatic leaders, feeling at times like a convenient ideology, like nationalism.

David Gordon White (2014) in his recent Yoga Sutra of Patanjali: A biography writes about the "strange case" of T. M. Krishnamacharya, the father of modern postural yoga, with regards to his ever-evolving biography: "As his biographers note, the salient facts of Krishnamacharya's life are known through eleven pages of autobiographical notes written by him near the end of his life, as well as from their own accounts of his reminiscences and teachings to them. It is therefore curious that these facts have changed with each new biography: what one in fact sees in these books is a process of legacy building, of transforming an innovator of postural yoga into a 'universal man' of Yoga," which Krishnamacharya became "through his 'genealogical bloodline' and three types of training: direct revelation, a conventional academic education, and discipleship under a trans-Himalayan master" (pp. 197-8). White goes on to politely call into question all of these claims and to show that modern yoga's ontology (widely promoted as the marriage of postural practice and study of the Yoga Sutra) had much to do with nascent Indian nationalism and its quest for independence from the British, and was heavily influenced by "modern body culture techniques developed in the West and the various discourses of 'modern' Hindu yoga that emerged from the time of Vivekananda onward" (Singleton, 2010; e-loc 142). 

This foundation further crystallized into various yoga styles/schools/methods which can be thought of as yoga nation-states. One could say that we have (or had in some cases) the yoga nation-state of Iyengar, Anusara, Bikram, Ashtanga, Forrest, Jivamukti, etc., with a proliferation of countless tiny yoga nation-states usually called [insert name here]yoga.com or heavily affiliated and loyal to one of the big ones. Relations between the big yoga nation-states are/were not necessarily warring but they can certainly be characterized as uneasy, contemptuous, cool, disparaging and smirking. As with nationalism, cohesion and belonging was based on different styles proclaiming to be the best or the most, such as Anusara's former claim of being the most elegant method of alignment, for example.

Being the most implies that there is something or someone less, that there is superior and inferior, very similar to nationalism. All this has been usually addressed through the it's-all-good model of thinking, claiming that the superior-inferior language was not just a good old comparison (or negative advertising) but ultimately an expression of oneness such as "Truth is one, paths are many."

The 21st century has seen the democratization of historical knowledge and the questioning of nationalism (and capitalism) as useful (or unquestioned) ideologies of belonging and functioning, albeit very unevenly and subject to debate. But there are currents and they are felt.

Group affiliation and acceptance is a fundamental human need. The paradigm shift in the world of yoga that we are a part of is an ongoing evolution towards a more horizontal approach based on truth and fact, collective rather than exclusive knowledge, which might not be as inspiring, sexy or exclusive, but it shows maturity. As yoga is shedding its nationalistic skin, we are participating in the birthing of a different model of belonging.

Extreme Hardness and Extreme Flexibility: Survival Basics

I saw this NYT article, "Why Are Americans So Fascinated with Extreme Fitness," making the rounds on FB yesterday and actually reposted it because it spoke to something that I have been reflecting on for a while: overexertion and how this reflects the dominant culture's push for constant self-improvement and glorification of hyper-individualism as a trait to be striven for and celebrated.

Then, a couple of hours later three of my colleagues lost their jobs and a quarter of our small association staff were gone. They had middle class dignity and job security on Friday--all gone on Tuesday after the "holiday" weekend.

I had posted the following nuggets from the NYT article:

"For the most privileged among us, freedom seems to feel oppressive, and oppression feels like freedom."
 "Like the idealists and extremists who founded this country [i.e. the USA], the modern zealots of exercise turn their backs on the indulgences of our culture, seeking solace in self-abnegation and suffering."
 "Why can’t we suffer and sweat together, as a group, in a way that feels meaningful? Why can’t someone yell at us while we do it? For the privileged, maybe the most grueling path seems the most likely to lead to divinity."

After the developments at my work, I am rethinking  my post. Yes, it was a clever way to talk about an issue that is just starting to get traction. But I think there is more going on.

Extreme fitness is one response in the face of neoliberalism's demands for extreme worker flexibility, its demands to accept uprooting and ungrounding as a matter of course. It doesn't give you a second chance--it hacks off and moves on. This inherent instability and lack of basic dignity for the worker of the 21st century leads to a desire to be in control, to feel like you can weather the jungle out there.

Where does this leave modern postural yoga (MPY) and its bias toward opening and flexibility?
I think extreme fitness and glorification of flexibility in MPY are two sides of the same gory billboard.

Some of us react by building a shell from which we sometimes poke our head out, but mostly rely on the shell to bounce off the hardness of life. Some of us react by adopting an attitude of malleability. The more gumby, the better. The more like a rag doll whose legs, arms, torso and head can be arranged in knots that would make the distinction of its parts unrecognizable. Both are way to feel in control of one's own flesh. Both are survival training. Both are extremes. What about everyone else in the middle? You harden in some places, you loosen in other. You decompensate, you lose the natural turns and twists that you developed in utero that kept you resilient and largely pain free.

As much as we are asked to be hyper-responsible, we are also asked to trust that the universe knows best. That it is there and holding you no matter how shitty it gets. That it is all for a good reason. That you have to go with the flow. That if you are ever more flexible you can almost ensure that you stretch yourself out so thin that you become part of it all.


All of these responses do not create space; they take it away. All of these want you to believe that you are a king of your own destiny. But by definition you aren't. You aren't a 100% responsible, despite what the dominant narrative would have you to believe. As Matthew Remski says, karma is 1/3 your actions, 1/3 the actions of others around you and 1/3 randomness such as a flood, a mudslide or an earthquake.


In the face of massive labor dislocation and insecurity in the 21st century, the need to feel in control of one's own politic body is vast and reaching tipping point levels. The search for extreme fitness or extreme flexibility is a sign of not enough grounding. When you have no sense of stability, you either think you need to be more hard core or you think you are stiff and therefore need to stretch. Extreme fitness is combat training, a literal interpretation of survival. This morning, I was listening to a story about Wendy Rogers, a candidate for Congress, and one of the first 100 women pilots in the U.S. Air Force, who was training her 3-year-old grandson to do pull-ups because, she said, these skills need to be instilled from a very young age. Extreme flexibility is survival training too, but by disintegration. Because you feel so not in control that reaching more and more extreme ranges of motion becomes a way of feeling in control, of pushing against a boundary that says that you are you and then there is the rest. But maybe by breaking that layer of separation, the issues of the body politic become your issues and your issues become the issues of the body politic and dissipate.

The other day an Economist article called economic growth in the US and UK "healthy." I wrote them a letter (I will let you know if they publish it):

Sir - In your leader article, "Weaker than it looks," you called growth in the UK and US "healthy." One cannot call economic growth healthy if inequality is increasing or if the mean GDP per capita is much higher than the median. Growth is healthy only when it is balanced and sustainable, and allows everyone to progress with integrity, if incrementally. Growth in the UK and US is healthy if you are willing to call cancerous growth healthy.

My former colleagues are left to take advantage of the healthy growth and hope to recover in an era where extreme hardness and extreme flexibility are both required for survival. Something's got to give.