A critique of a 20-year-old paper by Laudan Nooshin (Circumnavigation with a Difference? Music, Representation and the Disney Experience: It’s A Small, Small World)

Hey guys! This is a slightly different type of post to usual, but a while ago I stumbled on an academic paper called ‘Circumnavigation with a Difference? Music, Representation and the Disney Experience: It’s A Small, Small World’, and as an it’s a small world enthusiast, I wanted to look into the paper and what it might be talking about. However, I think Nooshin fundamentally misses the purpose for which the ride is created. Whilst I can’t claim to be an authority on Orientalism or very well versed in music theory, I want to create a counter-argument for Nooshin’s claim based on the message that the Disneyland Paris version of it’s a small world and the park as a whole aims to share, and reveal the idea that the ride’s simplicity of nature is what makes it so beautiful, alongside how the park humanises the ‘other’ and encourages us to explore perspectives beyond our own. This is neither an essay (mostly) nor an attack, merely just someone sharing their thoughts. And a fun fact, this paper was published a month after I was born haha! XD

I took screenshots of the paper so we can more easily analyse what is being said, and so I don’t have to write a ton of quotes! (My arguments are below!)

Okay, there’s a whole lot to unpack here. I’ll try and tackle this one point at a time, but to me this argument just feels flawed from the outset. A friendly reminder that I’m not a scholar and these are all just my opinions, but considering Nooshin went to the park in around 2001-2002 (as far as I can tell) and myself starting in 2008 when I was 4 years old, I can safely say that I have had a very similar experience to her, and thus wish to discuss my own perspectives.

Nooshin’s argument hinges on there being a deeper meaning behind the dolls and clocks of this simplistic attraction. Her argument is based on the idea of there being an Americanised vision of the world throughout the attraction, one which thus follows the colonialist ideals of the pioneers and times of old. She argues this with Frontierland, Discoveryland, Adventureland and most importantly of all, Fantasyland’s ‘it’s a small world’ ride. Conversely I want to read Disneyland Paris from a humanist perspective, and argue the stories it tells are not those of colonialism, but innate human curiosity, and how we seek to understand rather than conquer. For the purposes of this argument I won’t go into Walt Disney Studios, just stick to the castle park, hehe.

To begin, with the overall argument, it uses some weaker evidence but twists it in a compelling way, giving a sense of moral superiority. It acts as if the guests, innocently traversing the park, are part of some sort of larger colonialist action. It frames us as an enemy on the inside of sorts, as if once someone steps into the gates, they feed into the endless cycle of colonialist action. However, in actuality, if we look into the stories the park tells and see them from a humanist perspective, which is what I believe my moral values best align to, then this is a completely different perspective within which the guest is placed. Yes, it’s important to understand the cultural context behind many of the decisions and traditions that govern how the dolls representing each country are dressed, however, one could argue countries feed into their stereotypes themselves. For example, when I visited Mexico, they sold sombreros, ponchos and traditionally made dolls on the street. In Africa, they had an elephant sanctuary where guests could ride an elephant (I did it when I was 10 and it was a lot of fun), and when I visited Florida, they sold spacesuits in the airport. Even in my home country of the UK, we sell royal guard toys and double decker buses. Countries have been stereotyped long before this ride existed, and have continued to do so. In Japan, they offer kimono rentals for tourists. In Egypt, they sell tours for the pyramids. And in Panama, where I visited recently, they sell you cocoa tours. No matter where you visit in the world, theme park or real-life, there will always be a capitalistic nature and a stereotyping of culture. It’s up to you if you want to look deeper, but being respectful and indulging yourself in a country’s main attractions isn’t necessarily a bad thing. They sell it to you, it attracts you to visit and benefit said country’s economy, thus I don’t think subscribing to a touristic version of a country is necessarily a bad thing when done with the correct mindset.

Now, let’s look at each land in turn and how it subverts this pro-colonialist mindset, with a particular focus on it’s a small world at the end. To begin, Adventureland.

Adventureland is a land that many would argue feeds into the narrative of the ‘other’, but personally I think it subverts the colonialist ideals by inviting the guest into a world where the only ruler is the wild, chaotic and untamed spirit of adventure. For example, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride expressly takes down the capitalist ideology of the Marines, instead inviting guests to understand a world in which pillaging and plundering is the way of life. No one person is ruled by a system, but it’s every man (or woman!) for themself, and there is an express idea of camaraderie and mutual respect. If we go with the old version that myself and Nooshin would have ridden, the ride opens with an incredibly accurate depiction of the Caribbean, the palm trees and tiki torches giving the sense of misunderstanding whilst also being inviting, and the skeletal remains of pirates reveal we are being told this story backwards. What we know of piracy is what remains of it, the legacy that does give us that ideal of the ‘other’, that pirates were fearful, terrifying beings that ruled the seven seas, but the ride invites us to see the deeper meaning, and experience the lives of pirates for ourselves. We then see shadows, we see the fear and understand why these pirates were considered menaces, as they shoot at each other and occupy space, their boats on the horizon large and imposing. But as we progress, we see further. We see them as prisoners, bargaining for their freedom, and are called to contemplate their humanity in an admittedly comedic scene. We then see them aboard their ships, pillaging and plundering, we see them engaging in things they find fun. And whilst they are dismantling a capitalistic town with their schemes, we also see them as fun, exciting, something aspirational. We see their music, their drinking, their habits, we see their humanity. No longer are they harming others, but they are sharing a sense of camaraderie. We understand. We understand their humanity, their sense of self, their identity. We know piracy isn’t something to be feared, for we understand the human connection that makes it up. Whilst it is formed on greed, it is also formed on freedom. Pirates are not systematically oppressed, or controlled by capitalism. They roam the seven seas. And the guest, equipped with a newfound sense of inspiration, is allowed to contemplate the reality that with time, they too could enjoy a pirate’s life, if they aren’t quick to judge and seek the unknown. And with the ride ending with skeletons and the overhang of death once more, the story of a humanised pirate is told, and effectively so, through a reminder we all end up the same once our time is up, which is the true essence of humanity.

Next, Frontierland. This is one I can speak extensively about, but Frontierland actually is rather critical of colonialism, depending on which version of the story of Thunder Mountain and Phantom Manor you believe, which in this case, will be the old one. To begin, the story starts with Henry and Martha Ravenswood, Henry hailing from New York to begin a mining company on indigenous land. Though the Natives warn him of the Thunderbird and the consequence of mining deep, he ignores them and thus suffers the consequence when he and his wife die in an earthquake that may have been caused by the wrath of the Thunderbird. This perspective plays into the idea of the negative side of colonialism, in that it drowns out voices of the minority, and this is directly addressed by having the evil colonialist be put to death for his ignorance. To further the humanisation, we are used to seeing ghosts and spirits as the ‘other’, but the original version of Phantom Manor has a focus on the tragedy, leading to understanding. Entering the manor, we are met with a disembodied voice, an unreliable narrator who guides us on our journey, but gives us a twisted view on Melanie, the main character. The voice objectifies her, claiming she’s lovely, the true beauty of the manor, but doesn’t give us her perspective. When we get into the ride, though, we learn more of her. She’s lost her husband thanks to this voice, who is actually her father, now a vengeful spirit, and is forced to rot away as a prisoner of both her grief and his control, stuck in the manor for the rest of her days. Only upon riding the ride do we get to see her humanity, and unlike Henry Ravenswood, this kind and innocent nature persists even after death, when she points guests to the exit. No longer are ghosts and skeletons the ‘other’, they’re human, and as humans, they can be good, bad, or morally grey. Phantom Manor’s key to understanding is to take us on a journey, following a girl’s descent into a dark and lonely life, and the one act of kindness she can achieve after death, proving her father could never truly stop her from following the right path.

Discoveryland has two attractions I’d like to discuss in this analysis. The first is the Nautilus, with a focus more on the book it’s based on, as Nooshin brought up Jules Verne, so it’s safe to assume her analysis is based on the books just as mine will be. In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Professor Pierre Aronnax is taken on the journey of his lifetime when he, Conseil, and Ned Land become prisoners aboard the Nautilus for approximately 10 months, travelling 20,000 leagues across several seas and encountering many sights. I could make a case of Aronnax being incredibly gay toward Nemo, but for the most part I’m going to discuss how the novel humanises the ‘other’, which in this case is the Captain himself. Nemo, Latin for ‘no one’, is a symbol of the marginalised and oppressed, a charitable man who sinks capitalistic warships and destroys those who seek to attack his haven under the sea, his mighty submarine which travels the world. Throughout the story, he becomes less like a monster and more like a heroic figure, at least in the eyes of Aronnax, from whom we see the story. Nemo’s story is not one of conquering, but harmonising, living in peace with the sea and the residents which dwell within. He takes Aronnax (on a date) to Atlantis, he shows them a pearl worth around $15,000 that he’s keeping so he can use the money for charity later, and he gets the three of them up close with sharks and all sorts of other species. And yet, Nemo, the ‘other’, is a human. He’s flawed, he’s broken, and he’s a grey character. His humanity is no better shown than in the end of the novel, when he breaks down crying in front of a portrait of a woman and two children, presumably his own family who were killed by those he calls his enemies, and whose ships he thus sinks without remorse, vengeful and wrathful for the fate which befell his beloved people. Thus, the enigmatic Captain Nemo, in the end, is a mysterious man with a tragic past, a human capable of good and bad just as the rest of us, and with whom we can deeply empathise.

The other ride I want to analyse is ‘Space Mountain: From The Earth To The Moon’, which is actually a source of inspiration for something coming to the FSOS AU blog at the time of writing this! (https://fantasiasymphonyofsorcerersau.blogspot.com/ - please check it out, it’s a fun read!) Anyway, this is based on the book ‘From the earth to the moon’, as you can guess. Whilst that book could be interpreted as being about the colonisation of the moon, it’s actually a book about the human curiosity to explore the final frontier, and this is no better represented than with Michel Ardan, my favourite character. He’s the Frenchman of the group, and he’s all about kindness, empathy, and art. He sees the humanity in both Barbicane and Nicholl when they’re fighting, and encourages teamwork, bringing them both along for the ride in the cannon that will shoot them to the moon. In this way, we are given an inspiring journey that encourages us to shoot for the stars, and the idea that with friendship and planning, anything is possible. Ardan is an artist who looks toward the future, and sees a bit of beauty in everything he makes, as said in the book ‘I think we should put a little art into everything we do. It’s better that way.’ And thus, we have a humanisation of the characters who do not wish to colonise, rather, explore. It is a book about imagination, possibility and innovation, and represents the wonder of exploring the final frontier, and seeks to harmonise, instead of divide and conquer, through the prospects of space travel and friendship.

Now for my final argument, I want to debunk Nooshin’s view on ‘it’s a small world.’ As a ride with which I have many personal connections, as is evident by this blog, I think she fundamentally has misunderstood the point of the ride. It is not a western perspective on the world, it is a CHILD’S. And once again, this is referring to the version pre-2015, with which I am most familiar. To start, I just want to point out a few factual errors with her argument, being the Disney Nerd I am. The ride actually begins in the North Pole and (maybe) Scandinavia, so it doesn’t technically begin in Europe right from the get-go. We also see before the first doll that there are paintings and banners of children from many countries, as well as their greeting, so the ride doesn’t open with a euro-centric focus, rather, from the get-go, even when one sees the fountain, it is a celebration of all the world’s children. On top of that, the reason it ends with the US is because in the original incarnation of the ride, the USA wasn’t represented outside of a Cowboy and Native American in the finale (which might I add, is also very stereotypical!), so they added it close to the ending. And the racial diversity in that scene alone is impressive, for example, the Hollywood girls being dressed in the same outfit but being different tones.

Now onto a more detailed commentary. I’m particularly critical of her words toward France Telecom. Back when Disneyland Paris first opened, it desperately relied on sponsors as it failed to turn a profit for quite a few years, and the pavilion in question (which is what this blog celebrates) is actually about the power of technology to help human connection transgress all borders, which is its main theme. Yes, it’s a glorified advertisement, but that’s a small-minded perspective. In fact, with these children all viewed in their own rooms and environments (and I have a particular distaste for her use of the word ‘voyeur’, as if to imply the guest is sinisterly watching rather than curiously observing), it can be argued that the children are alone, isolated in their own environments. However, with the power of technology, their loneliness can be quelled, as they can sing and talk to friends, see pets from afar, get tickets to a concert that will connect them with others, or even perform a concert despite being countries apart. This is particularly pertinent post-pandemic, in which billions of people experienced that sort of isolation, and now can see this old little post-show as a representation of the beautiful warmth of how human connections persisted even in the darkest time of our lives.

To further this, it’s fundamentally an attraction about the power of music to unite the world, near or far, we’re all singing the same song, because we’re human. It’s also more focused on the idea that we can all work together to create something beautiful. When you stood in World Chorus, you were surrounded by the music and sights of children from different races, backgrounds and lives all uniting to sing, since music has no language. Music is its own language, one which each culture takes and interprets, but which fundamentally every language can speak. By using one song, and with John Debney’s beautiful orchestrated adaptation which takes the song and utilises a variety of cultural instruments and different languages, the music actually serves to prove that we can all speak the same language through a melody, because we are united when we create a harmony of human heartbeats.

As for Nooshin’s comments on the base ride, she suggests that the guest is presented with a euro-centric vision of the world, which as I previously stated, is flawed thinking. A country presents itself in a certain light, tourists buy that version, helping their economy and experiencing what they want to believe is a culture that they're being sold. While I could be critical of the tourist industry, I do not believe that should be a valid reason for blaming a children’s ride for the colonialist mindset she’s perpetuating. If anything, Nooshin should blame the National Geographic magazines that Alice Davis tirelessly studied back in the 60s to best represent the countries and their costumes she was trying to portray. How can we be so heartless as to blame a ride which utilises toys, dolls and clocks to show how a child sees the world for the reason the world is so flawed? A child won’t see the darkness under the surface, a child won’t see the hurt and pain of marginalised ideals, and thus, it’s a small world doesn’t see them either. That isn’t to say it ignores them, though, instead, it imagines. It dreams of a world where we can all live in peace, where nobody is marginalised or outcast. Where every culture’s clothing is stitched in beautiful tresses of fabric and embroidered with jewels and pipecleaners. It imagines a world of painted patterns, where every race can play together, where we can sit and ride on a ferris wheel, or spin on a carousel. It wants a world where we can all play different instruments but the same melody, and where we all joyously live under one sun and one moon. It dreams of a better world, sparkling with colour and bountiful with life, an innocent world where we are united as humans. And it inspires within us the ideal that we really are the same. United by laughter, tears, hopes, fears, divided by mountains, oceans, but united by the same sky and smile. Every doll has the same face, because we are all the same in the end. We are all human, and it really is a small world, an undivided world that we should be working toward each and every day. And that is what Nooshin missed in her cynicism. She forgot to hope. And so, I leave you with a final question, a philosophical one. By imposing a colonialist narrative onto a ride celebrating world peace and unity, is Nooshin herself doing more to divide the world than to unite us?

That’s all for today everyone! Again, this isn’t meant to be an attack or anything, but rather me sharing my musings. And as a thanks for reading, have some bonus sourced images from the Web Archive and Google!! :D