Indians Want the Love of a Foreigner, But Not the Criticism

Seven and a half decades after independence, we are still so insecure that a documentary or an analysis of a private company can shake the foundations of this nation.

Four years ago, India’s prime minister won the Philip Kotler Presidential Award, named after the famous marketing guru. It was an honour of which nothing was heard before or afterwards. Much was made of the award, even though questions were raised by critics. The man who presented the certificate, Jagdish Sheth, a professor of management in an American university, himself got a Padma Bhushan the next year.

It was an honour given by a ‘foreign’ name, and that was that ― a recognition by the world that India was making strides under Narendra Modi. He, and his followers, are big on foreign recognition. But if criticism comes from abroad, then all hell breaks loose.

The arguments trotted out are familiar: What do they know of what’s happening in India? Who are they to comment on our internal matters? It’s a devious plot to destabilise India. Seven and a half decades after independence, we are still so insecure that a documentary or an analysis of a private company can shake the foundations of this nation.

And foreign criticism has been coming at a furious pace lately.

First, the BBC documentary that focused on the Gujarat violence in which hundreds of Muslims were killed by marauding mobs. The first part was entirely about that, and revealed that the British government had received a confidential report by its Foreign Office that pointed fingers towards the then chief minister, Narendra Modi, as being responsible. The then British foreign secretary was interviewed and he confirmed it.

A British citizen who lost family members in the riots was also interviewed, a heartbreaking recall of a particularly brutal incident. Old interviews of Narendra Modi to a BBC correspondent ― in those days, when he did speak to journalists ― showed him making the chilling admission that the one thing he regretted was his inability to “handle” the media, which he has more than made up for since.

The documentary made waves in India and the Modi government in Delhi came down heavily on social media, which were told in no uncertain terms that it could not be shown anymore ― indeed, even a clip could not be shared on Twitter. Students who tried to see it in their hostels were detained. The second part of the documentary, which was about India under Modi since 2014, again focussing on communal lynchings etc. It more or less disappeared before it could get here.

All through, the BJP and its supporters called the BBC corrupt and worse. And the Modi government’s Income Tax Department ― almost predictably ― raided the BBC’s Delhi and Mumbai offices for over 48 hours in search of tax  infringements. It was a ‘survey’ and not a ‘raid’, they clarified, but whatever it was, it sent a clear message not just to the BBC and other media organisations, both Indian and foreign, that criticism and investigations would not be tolerated.

After the BBC documentary came a detailed report on the Adani group by American shortseller Hindenburg Research. The markets reacted violently and Adani companies lost 118 billion dollars ― half their valuation ― in 10 days.

The Adani Group’s CFO appeared in a video with the Indian flag fluttering behind him, saying it was an attack on India. He compared it to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, a travesty of a statement that should have at least led to dismissal from the company.

Since then, the BJP, in and outside Parliament, have either attacked Hindenburg or simply shut down all attempts to mention the A word, especially in connection with Modi. Memes started doing the rounds, saying that the world is jealous of India’s progress.

But nothing compares to the furious attack on 92-year-old George Soros, who said optimistically in a speech that the Adani crisis would weaken Modi and strengthen democracy in India. Modi-friendly television channels have linked Soros to all kinds of organisations and individuals in India, and even the Congress waded in, saying that whether or not democracy is strengthened is up to the Opposition. (The Congress has some experience in invoking the ‘Foreign Hand’, a phrase that Indira Gandhi often used.)

But it was the external affairs minister S. Jaishankar, who used the strongest words when talking about Soros. He called the billionaire “an old, rich, opinionated and dangerous man” who invests resources to change narratives. The undiplomatic language used by the former foreign secretary suggests that the government was stung by the billionaire’s remarks.

The fear of the foreign could be linked with colonialism. Historians, sociologists, even psychologists would be the best persons to offer academic explanations for this. The BJP talks about “1,200 years of slavery”, which implies that India’s servitude began under the Muslims, though many of the invaders were not Muslims at all.

And yet, any recognition or achievement, however minor, by a Person of Indian Origin ― and this includes a child’s victory in a Spelling Bee in the US ― is an occasion for celebration. The many Indians who have become CEOs of foreign companies are a vindication of India’s superior culture and our education system, the same system set up under Jawaharlal Nehru who is routinely trashed by Modi and the BJP, and the nomination of a song from a masala film for the Oscars sends the Indian public into paroxysms of joy. And yet, a documentary by a foreign channel, which recounts familiar facts and which will not even be shown in India, is a plot against the country.

Consider India holding the presidency of the G-20, a rotating post that will last only one year. The hype and hoopla around it suggests that India is now acknowledged as the Vishwaguru, and that India’s PM is the accepted leader of the world and India is the Mother of Democracy.

And yet, the ‘foreigner’ is still viewed with suspicion, while at the same time we desperately crave their endorsement. The ‘foreign’ is still a benchmark of excellence, against whom we measure our own worth. The Australians, who went through a period of a national inferiority complex in the 1950s and 60s, called it a ‘cultural cringe’. Perhaps we are still experiencing it.

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Author: Sidharth Bhatia

Sidharth Bhatia is a Founding Editor of The Wire.