Another blot on the tattered fabric of democracy in India

November 19, 2012 at 9:51 pm | Posted in democracy | Leave a comment
Tags: , ,

During the last weekend, the entire city of Mumbai, India’s commercial capital came to a standstill as the xenophobic Hindu fundamentalist leader, Balasaheb Thackeray died on Saturday November 17, 2012. A 21-year old woman from Palghar in the neighboring Thane district posted on Facebook, the message:

NewImage

This was “liked” by another 20 year-old woman, Renu Srinivasan. Shockingly, the two were arrested for “hurting religious sentiments” and by Sunday night, Shiv Sainiks–members of Thackeray’s political party–ransacked the orthopedic hospital of Dr. Abdul Dhada, the uncle of the woman who had posted the original message on FB.

NewImage

In cold death as in life, Thackeray has been a menace, Since he founded the Shiv Sena–the army of Shiv–in 1966, he has plagued Maharashtra, first, by unleashing campaigns against migrants from South India, and later in the 1990s by vicious anti-Muslim agitations that led to more than 900 deaths, and in this century campaigns against North Indians. His strength stemmed from the Shiv Sena’s unions, which worked with employers to counter–and eventually subdue the more militant trade unions of the city’s textile mills. The Sena also acted as a cultural police targeting Valentine’s day celebrations, Indo-Pakistani cricket matches, and Pakistani writers and artists. Anyone critical of Shivaji, the great Maratha emperor also faced the Sena’s wrath as the historian James Laine found out when he wrote a book about Shivaji, Hindu King in Muslim India. His book was banned first in Maharashtra, and later in all of India, and the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute where he conducted his research was vandalized.

NewImage

Rather than confronting arguments in a book, the preferred policy of the Indian government is to ban them altogether. Any book–or cartoon–that depicts someone or some community in an unflattering light is banned: recently a textbook that had a cartoon of Ambedkar, the Dalit leader; a novel by Rohinton Mistry; the noted scholar A. K. Ramanujam’s essay on the Ramayana; Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses to name just a few. Banning of books means of course no one in the country can assess the validity of the charges laid against the work in question and why a research institution where an academic consulted books should be vandalized is beyond rational comprehension.

Even then, the case of the arrest of the two women who were arrested in the latest incident should send a chill down the spine of everyone. They had not mentioned Thackeray by name and there are suggestions the arrests were made and the hospital vandalized to settle some local scores. Yet, how these FB posts were singled out among the literally thousands of such posts expressing similar ideas gives great concern.

No one can doubt it is fear that shut Mumbai down: surely one cannot expect the South Indians, the Muslims, and more recently the North Indians to moan the death of a man who persecuted them. What is worse, major political figures from the President of India to Bollywood stars and sporting royalty like Sachin Tendulkar all queued up to pay homage to him on his deathbed!

This is the real legacy of Bal Thackeray. To make political violence so routine that it ceases to outrage. To make the strategy of scapegoating and targeting particular ethnic, religious, or political groups part of the calculus of everyday politics. To make fear and intimidation a legitimate, accepted part of political leadership. And to constantly remind any potential critic, in media or otherwise, of the threat of violent reprisal for saying something that Thackeray and his thugs might not appreciate.

No less part of Thackeray’s legacy is the fact that the political establishment, world of Bombay celebrities, and mediapersons who fawned over him when he was alive as much as they are doing now appear to have quiescently accepted all of this. The curious insistence on journalists addressing Bal Thackeray as ‘saheb’ — imagine, for instance, an article beginning with the words, “Herr Hitler, responsible for the death of millions of German citizens”–merely reflects this legacy.

Only the former Supreme Court of India justice and current Chair of the Press Council of India, Markandey Katju, courageously proclaimed that he could not pay tribute to Thackeray for persecuting his many victims. This too is because

Thackeray did not…come out of nowhere. He was not the creation simply of disaffected subaltern Maharashtrian communities or of middle-class Maharashtrian communities who felt outsiders had snatched what was their due. He represented something central in Indian political society–not an essentialist, ahistorical tendency but a historically produced capacity for using violence as a form of political reason, the absence of a coherent vision of solidarity that could respect similarity and difference, and the many deep failures of the postcolonial Indian state that our exceptionalist pieties about Indian tolerance, coexistence, and secularism often obscure.

They are already talking of constructing a memorial for him in Shivaji Park–imagine what this must indicate to his many victims! Yet another blot on the tattered fabric of Indian democracy

Advertisements

Leave a Comment »

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: