Bigotry

The Renaming Epidemic: Can and Should One Re-Write the Past?

India is not alone in being obsessed by the renaming mania, though the reasons elsewhere, at least currently, go beyond religion, politics and political ideology.

Amongst other more serious epidemics, there is one global epidemic which has escaped comment. This is the renaming of institutions, roads, buildings, parks, or whatever, for a variety of reasons, among them political correctness, historical reappraisal, religious bigotry or ethics.

India began the renaming game soon after Independence, but was by no means the only one, being followed by other erstwhile colonies freed from imperialism. In India, Kingsway became Rajpath, and Queensway Janpath, in an effort to wipe out the colonial past. Names of well-known freedom fighters – Mahatma Gandhi, Maulana Azad, Pandit Nehru – replaced those of viceroys and British royalty in statues or institutions.

Another round of renaming was done for the sake of linguistic correctness. Names of towns or places which had become anglicised were restored to their original colloquial usage. Thus Bombay became Mumbai, Calcutta became Kolkata, Madras became Chennai, and Bangalore, Bengaluru, to name but a few. Some changes were made to project pride in a regional hero. Thus to celebrate Shivaji, the Marathi warrior, the pride of Maharashtra, Victoria Terminus became Shivaji Chatrapati Terminus, amongst other well-known landmarks named after him like the Prince of Wales Museum.

Reorganisation of states on linguistic lines and later bifurcations provided another occasion for changing names. By 2022, an estimated 57 cities and at least nine states were renamed, among them United Provinces becoming Uttar Pradesh and Madras state becoming Tamil Nadu. Gurgaon, the bustling Infotech city, became Gurugram allegedly to honour the great Guru of the Pandavas – Dronacharya of the Mahabharata times.

Memorialising leading members of the ruling Nehru-Gandhi dynasty made for another spree of renaming – of airports, parks and so on. Though Connaught Place – named Rajiv Chowk after the tragic death of the then prime minister – has retained its place in people’s memories as CP, colonialism be damned!

Connaught Place. Photo: Shome Basu/The Wire

Till 2014, the renaming was largely a political decision, but not necessarily guided by a particular political ideology. But after that the Bharatiya Janata Party’s strong Hindutva ideology, with its desire to erase the Muslim heritage, and assert “ancient India’s glory” gave a particular religiopolitical turn to the renaming business. Thus Aurangzeb Road in Delhi was renamed as Dr APJ Abdul Kalam Road, on the ground that Aurangzeb was a cruel, anti-Hindu despot who destroyed Hindu temples. In the same tenor, Allahabad became Prayagraj and Faizabad Ayodhya. Religion and religious beliefs are playing a bigger part in today’s renaming than pure power politics, which was more intent on glorifying its own heroes than obliterating others.

Many believe this thinking is driven by an unscientific approach to history, wherein mythology is presented as the actual past and an era of infinite glory, and the heritage, especially the Islamic heritage, is denigrated as despotic. The objective behind the renaming, whether done earlier or being done now, is to erase the prevailing memory of the good done along with the bad by the other, while simultaneously super-imposing history as interpreted by the current rulers as the flawless truth.

But as mentioned earlier, India is not alone in being obsessed by the renaming mania, though the reasons elsewhere, at least currently, go beyond religion, politics and political ideology. The demand for renaming is due to a reinterpretation of history from the lens of a modern value system in which racism, injustice against indigenous peoples, charity funded from unethical fortune-building practices, such as the slave trade, and illegal drugs, and gender insensitivity or exploitation of women, are unacceptable.

Also Read: As Symbols of Discrimination Fall Worldwide, Meet the Women Who Blackened Manu’s Statue

Demands by civil society

While the renaming in India is largely due to political demands, and led by political figures or parties, the renaming demands in other parts of the world come more from civil society, especially the “woke” citizenry.

For instance, in Canada, a social media campaign is mounting to have the Muzzo name removed from public buildings, especially, the Toronto Hospital for Sick Children, where the Muzzo family were major benefactors. The campaign for the removal of the donor family’s name came after the scion of the family caused the death of five people, including three children, due to drunken driving. Ryerson University has been renamed the Toronto Metropolitan University as retribution for his actions harmfully targeting Indigenous peoples. Similarly, statues of Canada’s first Prime minister John A. Macdonald have been removed or doused in red paint for his role in the much-hated Indigenous residential schools which harmed their culture and well-being.

In Africa, thanks to public anger, statues of slave traders and hated colonialists like Cecil Rhodes are being defaced or toppled, and their names are erased from institutions memorialising them.

In the US, the most severe outcry in recent years has been against the Sackler family which has been a major donor to many cultural and educational institutions, amongst them Harvard and Oxford Universities, the Tate Galleries in Britain, and the V and A Museum. There is a demand for erasing the Sackler name because their money came from making opioid drugs causing addiction and misery to thousands of people.

The statue of Cecil Rhodes. Photo: Nayanika Mathur

Can and should one re-write the past?

The renaming raises several questions, among them, what purpose does it serve? Is it a way of erasing unpleasant public memories, a salve for collective emotional wounds caused by history and historical figures? Or is it a form of retributive justice, and a warning for current generations? Or simply a way of replacing heroes of one generation with those of the more recent past with whom they have more connections and from whom they can draw inspiration?

A second question that comes to mind is, should one apply the ethical and other standards of one generation to a different historical context? It implies a reductive reading of history, losing sight of context. History is inevitably subjective, to a large extent. As A.K. Ramanujam pointed out there are at least 300 versions of the Ramayana, each locating the action in different places, and interpreting the main characters in different ways.

The statues of famous people or institutions named after them are representative of the general attitudes and values of the people of the time. It was racism and a sense of cultural superiority among the people in general that moulded the personalities of the colonial heroes or slave traders. The behaviour of philanthropists or colonial rulers was acceptable in the particular historical context in which they lived.

Do we, now in a different time and context with different standards and values, condemn their behaviour and remove their names from institutional history or public memory irrespective of any vestige of good they may have done, or do we use their presence in our midst to remind us that such behaviour is no longer acceptable?

If some Muslim rulers were cruel and unjust should Hindus retaliate by practising reverse religious bigotry, forgetting the contribution made by other Muslim rulers and citizens to enrich their art, architecture and learning?

As Ken Coates in a thought-provoking article in the Toronto Star has pointed out, renaming buildings or defacing statues of leaders, though it serves some immediate purpose also deflects attention from where responsibility properly rests – with society at large. In his words:

“The past is a complicated place. It should not be reduced to memes and social media messages. Historical leaders are people, with personal foibles, living in and reflecting their places and times. Democracies hold leaders accountable during their political lives. Historians and the public determine their legacy. Attitudes towards the leaders, and their actions change over time. But these discussions should be handled with caution.”

Or else we will be living with distorted history.

The remedy for the historical guilt of a leader or a community does not lie in renaming a few buildings or removing statues but in the re-education of present societies in the wrongs they represented.

Pushpa Sundar writes on social issues, civil society, philanthropy and development, and is an author of several books on these topics.

Countering Bigotry in the Indian Classroom

Young people (teenagers, especially) are open to reason and there is a very good chance they will listen to facts if we will but dialogue with them calmly, objectively, and respectfully.

For many years now I have conducted a workshop called ‘Finding You’ for high school students. It is aimed at helping teenagers find their own unique voice and identity, and deal with the existential angst that invariably accompanies the adolescent years. One of the activities during this workshop involves students cutting and pasting pictures from magazines and newspapers and making individual collages depicting their hopes, dreams and unique personalities. For this purpose, I ask them to bring old magazines and newspapers from their homes.

The COVID-19 pandemic and the resultant closure of schools, however, brought a two-year hiatus in these sessions. As I resumed workshops once again this year, I wondered just how much the students’ worldviews have changed over the last couple of years, considering how Hindutva propaganda has now all but saturated print, electronic and social media.

I found my answer soon enough. In the years before the pandemic, students would bring magazines like India Today, Conde Nast Traveller, Vogue, etc. for the aforementioned collage-making activity. This time, to my consternation, I saw something I have never seen before in the pile – copies of Panchajanya, the RSS publication that openly advocates the idea of a Hindu rashtra. I decided to hold my peace and see how things developed. And develop they did!

As they were making their collages, the topic of ancestry came up amongst a couple of them. One of them cheerfully remarked to the other, “My grandparents came from Pakistan and I wouldn’t mind visiting it for a bit. I’ve heard the people there are quite hospitable and the food is great!”

The other student, a girl, immediately retorted, “I would never go there! I hate Muslims!”

Overhearing this, I said, “That’s a strong statement! Why do you hate Muslims? Have they ever done anything to hurt you?”

“Well, no…” she responded hesitantly, “but my parents tell me they are dangerous people.”

“But have you personally interacted with any Muslim people to know this for sure?” I persisted.

“I haven’t,” she replied with a tone of finality, “but my parents hate them, and so do I.”

Migrants waiting to go home during the lockdown. Photo: Rohit Kumar

The thing I had been afraid of had happened. The poison of communalism had entered their minds and homes. That night I tossed and turned, wondering how to address this. The following morning, I decided to talk about prejudice and asked the students for examples of stereotyping. They came up with many, and finally the student who had wanted to taste Pakistani cuisine said slowly and tentatively, “I hear all the time that all terrorists are Muslims.”

I asked the class how many of them had heard that before as well. Slowly, they all raised their hands.

I asked them if they remembered the first major lockdown in March 2020. They said they did. Just to refresh their memory, I reminded them how, as the country went on a 21-day lockdown with only four hours’ notice, lakhs of migrant workers suddenly found themselves out of work and without money or a place to stay. Unable to sustain themselves in the cities, and with no transport available to return to their hometowns or villages hundreds of kilometres away, they simply started walking or cycling home. Many were beaten by the police. Some were sprayed down with chemicals. Many died on the way.

I told the students that a couple of days after the migrant exodus began, a friend of mine sent me an anguished message in the middle of the night saying, “We need to help these people!”

The next morning this friend, who is originally from Sitapur in Uttar Pradesh but who was living in Delhi at the time told me he was getting desperate appeals for help from migrant workers from Sitapur who were stuck in Delhi. He suggested we try to hire buses and help these people get home. I agreed.

We called the project ‘Destination Home’ and put out an appeal on social media. Within hours, help started pouring in and by the end of two months we had managed to send nearly 2,000 migrant workers home by bus and train.

I told the students how difficult it was to get permissions at that time for these buses to cross borders and how my friend not only ran from pillar to post every single day in the blistering heat of summer to get bus permits, but how he also arranged food packets for these families and called every single migrant worker on his list to make sure no one was left behind.

I showed the students photos and videos of the migrant workers boarding the buses, including four who had bicycled to south Delhi all the way from Sonipat on the hottest day of the year just to be able to get on one of these buses and go home to Sitapur, and who had blistered hands and swollen feet as a result.

Suffice it to say, the students were moved.

Children of migrants waiting to go home during the lockdown. Photo: Rohit Kumar

And then I said, “By the way, this friend of mine that I’ve been talking about, his name is Zartab bhai. He is a Muslim and he did all this while keeping his rozas. Still think Muslims are awful people?”

What followed next was ‘pin-drop silence’. And then slowly, one student started clapping, followed by another and then another. The whole class then burst into sincere, heartfelt applause that went on for a long time. It was a beautiful moment.

An animated discussion about the importance of resisting bigotry ensued. Much of the class confessed that they too had believed there is something intrinsically ‘dangerous’ about Muslims, but that this story had given them something to think about. (It was interesting to note that there were no Muslim students in this class.) We finally arrived at the conclusion that it is wrong and dangerous to stereotype people by religion or community.

The girl who had been convinced she ‘hated Muslims’ told me she was embarrassed by how wrong she had been in her sweeping generalisations. I commended her for being willing to change her mind. I wondered if she would discuss this with her parents. If she did, I wondered how they would respond.

It is tempting to fear that in the face of Hindutva’s relentless propaganda onslaught our youth are all but lost to critical thinking, but this is not true. As this experience showed, young people (teenagers, especially) are open to reason and there is a very good chance they will listen to facts if we will but dialogue with them calmly, objectively, and respectfully – and with real-life examples of the values we espouse.

Rohit Kumar is an educator and can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.

Welcome Straws in the Wind That Blows From the Right-Wing

Recent examples of dissent within the BJP are valuable because their provenance underlines the fact that the political machine from which they emanate is still dominated by hate-filled intolerance.

This article first appeared in The India Cable – a subscribers-only newsletter published by The Wire and Galileo Ideas. You can subscribe to The India Cable by clicking here.

During my career as a teacher at Delhi University, I was an activist in the Delhi University Teachers’ Association (DUTA).

Our Association comprised three principal political segments – the Left, the Congress and the Sangh.

Through long decades and many movements, DUTA set an example of consensual, democratic decision-making and united action programmes, some of which yielded lasting constructive fruit for the profession and for higher education.

Some teachers who belonged to the Sangh were exemplars of the culture of decency, dialogue and educated and democratic dissent. Those were the days before the full-blooded weaponisation of religion. One of these that I recall with pleasure was O.P. Kohli, who later became governor in three states.

Indeed, the functioning of DUTA could well be studied by our parliamentarians as a model to follow.

My belief that no cultural or political organisation is ever a monolith now stands vindicated by news that comes from two states, Karnataka and Kerala.

In Karnataka, two legislators of the ruling BJP have spoken against the ban imposed on Muslim traders from doing business around temple areas as “wrong” and “undemocratic”, and have pleaded with the administration to undo this regressive measure.

Even more significantly, some Sangh affiliates in Kerala have opposed the decision of the Koodalmanikyam temple authorities to disallow a Muslim Bharatnatyam dancer from dancing in the temple premises as being against Hindu “culture” and “tradition”.

Also read: Imagine if Umar Khalid, and Not PM Modi, Were to Address ‘Pariksha Pe Charcha’…

This section of the Kerala Sangh had earlier also supported the Supreme Court’s order about the need for gender equality in the devotional practices of the Sabarimala shrine, although they were later obliged to fall in line with the dominant view of the Sangh.

These stands come against the backdrop of a cultural boycott of Muslims that BJP and Sangh leaders and activists have pushed in Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh, the vilification of Muslim actors, and also calls for the economic boycott of Muslim vendors in the wake of the Hindutva-driven ‘corona jihad’ campaign.

To be sure, these recent examples of rationality are the product of local politics and circumstances in Karnataka and Kerala. It may be far too early to think that these instances tantamount to any substantial cracks in the edifice. But they are valuable because their provenance underlines the fact that the political machine from which they emanate is still dominated by hate-filled intolerance.

Sadly, these expressions of sanity are few and far between and occur too far down the BJP-Sangh food chain to really make a difference. And yet it is important to welcome them. The dissenting Karnataka BJP legislators and Kerala Sangh members bring hope that skepticism, even among seemingly watertight formations, exists. Will the ‘high command’ slap them down? Or recognise that dialogue and the independence of opinions are essential for democracy? Or simply ignore them as a minor hiccup in the consolidation of sectarian dominance?

It is to be hoped that in the days to come, Hindu cultural activists and artists will also participate in the cultural events of other communities. That indeed is the route to firming up both citizens’ rights and cementing inter-community relations – thereby helping to dissipate the atmosphere of hostility that now obtains in many places.

Also read: ‘If We Stay, They’ll Kill Us’: Mathura Hindutva Groups Harass Muslims Over Non-Existent Cow Crimes

The failure of the prime minister to even once condemn the multiple expressions of hatred that his party’s leaders and members frequently trade in offers us a clue about what the future holds. Far from speaking out, Narendra Modi has been unable to resist resorting to such articulations. In his first speech from the Red Fort after becoming prime minister in 2014, Modi had asked for a ‘10 year moratorium’ on communalism and casteism. It was odd that he chose to put a time limit on the noble goal of eliminating bigotry. But eight years on, only two straws in the wind, however welcome, suggest how facetious the Red Fort pronouncement has been.

Badri Raina taught at Delhi University.

Who Let the Bigots Out?

Social media trolls are a vital part of the entire hate-mongering ecosystem because they build up an atmosphere of distrust.

This piece was first published on The India Cable – a premium newsletter from The Wire & Galileo Ideas – and has been updated and republished here. To subscribe to The India Cable, click here.

Close on the heels of BJP MP Tejaswi Surya’s tweet about a FabIndia ad on Diwali using the phrase Jashn-e-Riwaaj, comes another tweet pointing out that the women in the ad were not wearing a ‘bindi’. This then became the subject of unending back and forth on Twitter with earnest discussions and memes.

Less high-profile was a tweet on another ad asking why two women in an ad about the festive season showed them wearing green, presumably instead of saffron. Somewhere in the bowels of the social media site, was a poster of a Hindi film Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, translated into Hindi as ‘Pralay Se Pralay Tak‘. Whether these were satirical or not is unknown – the line between parody and fact has blurred.

But there is no saying when any obscure mention like these could take off and go viral. All it would take is some trolls giving it traction and well-meaning folks, who are opposed to this kind of cheap bigotry, could retweet them and launch into outrage and condemnation, giving them more publicity. Other trolls follow, encouraged by these controversies – already some freelancers have gone after other Muslim stars appearing in ads, and newspapers, always looking for sensationalist stuff, have dutifully reported these in detail.

Last year, there was an uproar — a manufactured one — when a Tanishq ad showing a mother-in-law lovingly respecting her daughter-in-law’s (different) faith. By showcasing an interfaith marriage, Tanishq broke new ground, but this did not please those who don’t want Hindus to marry Muslims. Two years ago, a customer in Jabalpur cancelled an order on a food delivery site because it was brought to his home by a Muslim.

The point of listing these examples of objections to what should otherwise go unnoticed is the growing hate-mongering about anything perceived as connected with Muslims, such as Urdu, like Surya did. A bindi, for example is projected as a Hindu tradition, which it is not – women from all religions wear it and many Hindu women don’t. More serious is objecting to the very notion of a mixed marriage between the two religions.

Such ‘controversies’ immediately put the company on guard and its first reaction – as in the case of both, Tanishq and FabIndia – is to withdraw the ad, primarily to avoid a consumer backlash. Surya was clear that companies such FabIndia be made to pay ‘economic costs’ . The message couldn’t be clearer and not surprisingly, companies just cave in.

And other companies will be discouraged from ever attempting anything that showcases India’s diversity and its ease with living with all the many cultures that around us. Nobody has ever thought of all that ‘Muslim’ culture around them; it is just there. Nor has a bindi ever been perceived as part of ‘traditional Hindu attire’. In food, clothing and language, to say nothing of traditions, both — and the rest of the population — comfortably slide into the other, without making a distinction.

Also read: The BJP Has Turned Diwali Into a Festival of Hate

We cannot imagine the Mumbai film industry without Muslim actors, directors, musicians and lyricists, as much as no one finds photographs of Muslim kids dressed up as Hindu deities for a school function as weird. This is India’s syncretic culture.

That is what these bigots wish to destroy. Surya is a member of the BJP, which has made no secret of its anti-Muslim platform, but the others undoubtedly subscribe to Hindutva. They keep the hate pot boiling, ensuring that such issues in the public eye, sowing doubt and fear. Behind this smokescreen, there are serious moves to hit Muslims economically – in Gujarat, they are warned not to buy houses in ‘Hindu’ neighbourhoods, and Hindus are not allowed to sell property to Muslims. This is not government policy, but enforced by the Vishwa Hindu Parishad and then followed up independently by property owners.

In some states, laws aimed specifically against Muslims have been enacted — the ‘love jihad’ law in Uttar Pradesh, for example. In Assam, last month, the homes of 800 families, mostly Muslim, were demolished by the government. The motivations and impact of the Citizens (Amendment) Act of the Union government are well known.

All are part of the same ecosystem, to marginalise Muslims in every way possible, to reduce them to not just second-class citizens but also hit them economically. It is not difficult to imagine a scenario when companies are asked not to hire Muslims and, one day, objecting to a Muslim actor playing a Hindu character on screen.

The online trolls are a very important part of this enterprise. Their larger objective is to completely separate Muslims from the mainstream They build up an atmosphere of distrust, and keep up the drumbeat of hatred and bigotry. And it is this drumbeat that, after a while, begins to play in the heads of even those who, earlier, never thought of such things before.

India’s COVID-19 Crisis Isn’t Just Modi’s Fault. It’s Ours, Too.

Even though the buck most certainly stops with Modi, there is a very real danger in blaming him alone for the devastation all around. Because if we do so, we will miss learning the critical lessons as a nation.

Narendra Modi’s dream of becoming a vishwaguru has come true, just not in the ways he would have liked to. Instead of becoming an exemplar of visionary leadership to the rest of the world, India’s prime minister has become a case study on how not to handle a pandemic (or manage an economy, or run a country).

The blame for India’s cataclysmic COVID-19 crisis lies primarily with its prime minister, of this there can be no doubt. As Reuters reported, “a forum of scientific advisers set up by the government warned Indian officials in early March of a new and more contagious variant of the coronavirus taking hold in the country… [But] the government took no steps to prevent gatherings that might hasten the spread of the new variant, as new infections quadrupled by April 1 from a month earlier.”

Not only did it not take steps to prevent large gatherings, it actively promoted them, both at election rallies and at the Kumbh Mela, with close to ten million gathering on the banks of the Ganga.

At a time when other countries were ramping up preparations for the next inevitable wave, the Indian prime minister had already declared victory against the virus, and so did next to nothing to strengthen India’s fragile medical infrastructure for the coming onslaught.

But, even though the buck most certainly stops with Modi, there is a very real danger in blaming him alone for the devastation all around. Because if we do so, we will miss learning the critical lessons that we as a nation desperately need to learn. And if that happens, then, as George Santayana says, we will be doomed to repeat the mistakes that have brought us to this point.

Also read: Centre Should Procure Vaccines for All. Anything Else Is Contrary to Efficiency and Equity

So, what are these lessons?

Lesson 1: Electoral choices have lasting consequences

This may seem like a painfully obvious point, but the fact is that the government which has failed us so spectacularly during the biggest crisis of our collective existence is the government which was elected by the people of India (though, thankfully, not all the people of India). The Indian electorate gave Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) a brute majority in the Lok Sabha not once, but twice. It is a decision many are now deeply regretting, because the same Modi that so many had placed such great faith in, has now told the people of India to be atmanirbhar, that they are, for all practical purposes, now on their own.

This Great Abandonment (tears on television notwithstanding) has been amply borne out by the fact that, at the time of this writing, only a shocking 1.6% of India’s 140 crore people have been fully vaccinated. The question, “If not Modi, who?” is now being rapidly replaced with an angry “Because of Modi, this!”

Perhaps if we had cast our ballots more thoughtfully and not fallen repeatedly for what can now only be called the Great Lie, we might have had a government that was more concerned with managing the pandemic than with managing the perception of how it is handling the pandemic.

BJP supporters during Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s public meeting ahead of West Bengal Assembly Polls, at Brigade Parade Ground in Kolkata, Sunday, March 7, 2021. Photo: PTI/Swapan Mahapatra

Lesson 2: Ignore history at your own peril

Ignorance of the law, it has been said, does not give you license to break it. Ignoring a demagogue’s history, likewise, does not exonerate you from your moral culpability in having supported him. It has been disappointing and more than a little nauseating to see many world leaders, captains of industry, academics, and, of course, journalists, only too willing to overlook Modi’s murky past.

A case in point is Pratap Bhanu Mehta. The professor’s resignation/removal from Ashoka University earlier this year caused much dismay and hand-wringing in liberal urban circles, but it is good to remember that while he may now have come to regret it, a mere seven years ago the good professor was very much amongst those willing to overlook Modi’s fascist antecedents. When Modi won a landslide victory in 2014, Mehta exulted:

(The new prime minister) “embodies the quintessence of politics: converting adversity into opportunity. … He was an outsider, demonised by the intelligentsia, with a Central government arrayed against him. But he has broken through and will now produce the biggest churning that India’s power structure has seen since Independence.”

Mr. Mehta’s prophecy has now come to pass, though probably not in the way he expected. Like him, far too many Indians, famous and otherwise, here and abroad, chose to ignore Modi’s history. Today, we are all paying the collective price.

Lesson 3: Heed the signs

Coming events cast their shadows before, but we failed to see them. Perhaps it is because we chose not to.

Something should have rung a bell when the person holding the highest executive office in the land cheerfully told attendees at a hospital inauguration in 2014, “A plastic surgeon may have fixed an elephant’s head on Ganesha,” or school children in 2015, “There is no such as thing as climate change; we are the ones getting older.”

Something should also have alerted us when the same person regaled IIT scholars with the story of a tea seller who channelled sewer fumes to make tea, or who told TV anchors that he gave the order for Indian Air Force planes to attack Balakot on a cloudy day, because the clouds would prevent the radars from detecting them!

These, and other such revealing incidents, should have warned us that scientific temper is not our prime minister’s forte. It should have told us that this was not the person we needed leading us through national crises which inevitably come in the life of a nation. Next time, we need to vote for a man or woman who respects expert opinion and the hard facts of science.

Lesson 4: Hate will come back to hurt the hater

Let’s face it. Far too many people voted for Modi because they wanted a ’Hindu Hriday Samrat’ to teach Muslims a lesson and ‘put them in their place.’ The problem with electing a divisive leader, though, is that his divisiveness will ultimately end up hurting everyone, not just those we hate. Those who lustily cheered when the prime minister talked of shamshaans and kabristaans are now seeing there is space in neither to cremate or bury the dead.

Hatred has a way of boomeranging, and the fire that we have kindled to destroy our neighbour’s house has now burned down ours, too. If there is one thing that this tragedy should teach us, it is that we are all part of the interconnected whole and what happens to one will affect all. If there is anything this pandemic should have taught us, it is that we need leaders who will spend their mandate building and uniting, not dividing and destroying.

Bodies lined up for cremation, amid surge in COVID-19 cases across the country, at Hindon river crematorium in Ghaziabad, Tuesday, April 20, 2021. Photo: PTI

Lesson 5: In a democracy, silence is never golden

Ervin Staub, professor Emeritus of Social Psychology at the University of Massachusetts, and best known for his work on altruistic behaviour, has spent a lot of time studying the psychology of the Germans and their treatment of the Jews in Nazi Germany.

Staub studied the cruelty and hatred meted out to the Jews, and found that one of the roots of such evil was the turning away, or choosing not to see or know, of bystanders. Their silence and inaction was read by the perpetrators as tacit approval. But, Staub noted, if these bystanders had spoken up in protest of the evil happening in front of them, it would have made such acts much more difficult for the perpetrators.

Also read: COVID’s Bitter Pill: India’s GDP Contracts 7.3% In FY’21

That is perhaps one of the most biggest lessons we as 21st century Indians need to learn. Far too many of us chose to stay silent over the last seven years. Because, let’s face it, who wants to face the nastiness of the mob? But it is important to realise that our silence has encouraged the bigots on social media and the lynch mobs on the streets. Instead of hiding in our cocoons of self-preserving silence, if more of us had clearly and consistently spoken out against the growing hatred and bigotry, and if more of us had called out the pseudo-scientific nonsense of ‘gurus’ like Ramdev and Jaggi Vasudev, then perhaps, as a nation, we could have avoided reaching this point.

This might be an odd metaphor to end on, but our prime minister is not unlike a child throwing a tantrum in a mall because mummy and daddy have not bought him the toy of his choice. A child throws a tantrum because his parents have not set the boundaries to curb his self-entered, egocentric, selfish and greedy tendencies. We, the citizens of India, too, have failed to curb our prime minister’s infantile desires. That is why, in the middle of the worst crisis India has ever known, he is now spending Rs 20,000 crore of public money and building himself a brand new house in Central Vista and knocking down everything that does not remind him of himself.

It is too late to expect anything noble and worthwhile from this prime minister. But it is not too late to expect better things from the next one. It’s up to us now.

Rohit Kumar is an educator with a background in positive psychology and psychometrics. He works with high school students on emotional intelligence and adolescent issues to help make schools bullying-free zones. He can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.

Michigan Governor Says Donald Trump Complicit in Militia Plot to Kidnap Her

Thirteen men, seven of them associated with an anti-government militia group called the Wolverine Watchmen, have been arrested.

Connecticut: Thirteen men, seven of them associated with an anti-government militia group called the Wolverine Watchmen, have been arrested on charges of conspiring to kidnap the Michigan governor, attack the state legislature and threaten law enforcement, prosecutors said on Thursday.

The suspects had plotted to abduct Governor Gretchen Whitmer, a Democrat who has clashed publicly with Republican President Donald Trump over state coronavirus restrictions, ahead of next month’s presidential election, according to state and federal criminal complaints.

Prosecutors said the conspirators discussed recruiting a force of 200 supporters to storm the state capitol building in Lansing and take hostages but later switched to a plan to kidnap Whitmer at her vacation home.

At a news conference, Whitmer accused Trump of fomenting political extremism, citing his comments during last week’s U.S. presidential debate against Joe Biden in which Trump declined to condemn white supremacists and instead called for members of the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by.”

“When our leaders meet with, encourage and fraternize with domestic terrorists they legitimize their actions, and they are complicit,” Whitmer said.

Trump lashed back at Whitmer on Twitter late on Thursday, saying the governor “has done a terrible job” and casting her as being ungrateful to his administration.

“My Justice Department and Federal Law Enforcement announced … today that they foiled a dangerous plot against the Governor of Michigan. Rather than say thank you, she calls me a White Supremacist,” Trump wrote.

Biden weighed in with his own statement, accusing Trump of “giving oxygen to the bigotry and hate we see on the march in our country.”

Internal U.S. security memos in recent months have warned that violent domestic extremists could pose a threat to election-related targets, a concern heightened by political tensions, civil unrest and foreign disinformation campaigns.

FBI Director Christopher Wray said in September that his agency was conducting investigations into domestic extremists, including white supremacists and anti-fascist groups.

A militia group with no political affiliation from Michigan, including Pete Musico (R) who was charged October 8, 2020, for his involvement in a plot to kidnap the Michigan governor, attack the state capitol building and incite violence, stands in front of the Governor’s office after protesters occupied the state capitol building during a vote to approve the extension of Governor Gretchen Whitmer’s emergency declaration/stay-at-home order due to the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) outbreak, at the state capitol in Lansing, Michigan, U.S. April 30, 2020. Photo: Reuters/Seth Herald/File Photo

The FBI became aware through social media in early 2020 of groups discussing the “violent overthrow” of multiple state governments and used confidential sources to track their movements, according to court records.

The six men named in the federal complaint – Adam Fox, Barry Croft, Ty Garbin, Kaleb Franks, Daniel Harris and Brandon Caserta – could face life in prison if convicted on charges of attempting to kidnap Whitmer.

Fox and Croft, in particular, discussed detonating bombs as a diversionary tactic, “and Fox even inspected the underside of a Michigan highway bridge for places to seat an explosive,” Andrew Birge, U.S. attorney for the western district of Michigan, told a briefing.

Action timed before election

Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel unveiled state charges against seven other men affiliated with the Wolverine Watchmen and accused of violating the state’s anti-terrorism act by conspiring to kidnap the governor and propagate violence.

The Wolverine Watchmen group has used Facebook since November 2019 to recruit members, and trained with firearms to prepare for the “boogaloo,” a term used in the militia movement for an uprising against the government or impending civil war, according to affidavits in support of the state charges.

Nessel said the group sought to identify the home addresses of law enforcement officers to threaten them with violence. She said a total of 19 felony charges were filed against seven individuals – Paul Bellar, Shawn Fix, Eric Molitor, Michael Null, William Null, Pete Musico and Joseph Morrison – including allegations of providing support for terrorist acts.

According to the FBI’s criminal complaint, Fox indicated that he wanted to kidnap Whitmer before the national election on November 3, 2020, and he would put her on trial for “treason.”

Michigan, a key swing state in the 2020 presidential race, became a focus of agitation by Trump and his supporters against stay-at-home orders Whitmer imposed this year to curb coronavirus transmissions.

Thousands of protesters, including armed militia members, converged on Lansing in April to protest Whitmer’s social-distancing restrictions, some chanting “Lock her up.” Trump encouraged the demonstrators, tweeting, “LIBERATE MICHIGAN!”

Whitmer, a co-chair of Biden’s presidential campaign, was at the time under consideration as his potential running mate.

Musico, along with Michael and William Null, was among the hundreds of protesters who entered the capitol building on April 30, 2020, as state lawmakers debated Whitmer’s request to extend her emergency powers to battle the coronavirus, according to Reuters photos from that day, which show all three men armed.

In one June video live-streamed to a private Facebook group, Fox called Whitmer a “tyrant bitch” as he complained about restrictions on gym openings.

“I don’t know, boys, we gotta do something. You guys link with me on our other location system, give me some ideas of what we can do,” Fox said on the video, according to the complaint.

Facebook said it first alerted law enforcement about content related to the Wolverine Watchmen more than six months ago and removed the group from its platform in June, after identifying some of the people running it as members of a boogaloo network.

Mark Pitcavage, a senior research fellow with the Anti-Defamation League, said militia movements generally support Trump and have shifted their “anti-government anger” away from Washington, where it has been traditionally aimed, toward state leaders.

“In that sense, it’s not necessarily surprising that a militia cell might decide to target a high-profile Democratic governor,” he said.

(Reuters)

Some Cacti Are Blooming in the Dreary Desert Sands of Indian Unreason

I trust the soul of the nation to find tongue again, and, in simple but decisive syllables, say no to hate and bigotry, and yes to love and camaraderie.

As I sift through the sands of Indian democracy, and the desolation wrought by its enemies, some resistant and life-sustaining cacti have come to view. I still have to get to an oasis, though.

Among the television channels won over by propaganda, money, ratings chase, and the fear of men in authority, I see and hear a young, bearded man of cool demeanour, doing “reality checks” on governmental claims and motivated fake news, seeking to set the record straight even on such forbidden things as what ought to be due to Muslim Indians as against what they get.

In the unperturbable accents of his anchoring, I see fear losing out to the power of truth, and the noisy assertions of the mendacious reduced to gibberish. Kudos, Srinivasan Jain. May your noble endeavour have a long life.

I see Ravish Kumar, doyen of truth-seeking journalists, especially as those truths pertain to the wretched of the earth, name and count those dead of whom the government has no record, and wishes to have none — migrants who perished in their long peregrinations from cities to villages, doctors, and medical support staff, including safai karamcharis, in whose name utensils were sounded but whose count is neither heard of nor available, it seems, in official records; journalists of whom some 380 have so far died doing their perilous and often unpaid and unprotected duty of reporting the pandemic from far flung hinterlands, without support or notice, but with plenty of intimidation from governments and goons here, there, and elsewhere.

I hear him day in and day out bring news of the millions who have not found the jobs they were promised; of desperate young men and women who, having taken job tests years ago, still await their results, and prepare for fresh tests; of people protesting their lot in state after state but never featured by any electronic channel; of the hundreds of desolate young men and women who died by suicide; all losing out in the news bulletins to the one suicide of a film star.

Job seekers fill up forms as others line up for registration during a job fair in Chinchwad, India, February 7, 2019. Photo: Reuters/Danish Siddiqui/File Photo

And I hear from Ravish stories of police brutalities, of the law’s contumely, the truth of hate-mongers with official backing, and stories of inspiring inter-communal living and love drawn from all across, even those belts which are most devastated by anti-minority campaigns.

Also read: We All Know That India Is a Democracy. So No Questions, Please.

And I see him call upon knowledgeable and impartial experts like Faizan Mustafa to acquaint both himself and us with the subtle and fine points of the constitution, and the laws thereof, never claiming to be a know-all himself, unlike most anchors these days, including ones just born.

And much, much more; so I say to Ravish, most deserving winner of the coveted Ramon Magsaysay award, live long in safety and keep us alive in our residual humanity.

I see Sudha Bharadwaj and Safoora Zargar, Natasha Narwal and Debangana Kalita, standing unbowed in the face of the state’s attempts to ensnare them in contrived cases under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act.

And, more poignantly, my mind turns to the women at Shaheen Bagh, and the Shaheen Baghs across the republic, who truly built a civil disobedience movement reminiscent of what Bapu had done. And to the hundreds of young women in student and youth organisations across communities, both in civil society and in educational institutions, who gave their all fearlessly to stand for the rights of the marginalised and the poor, suffering both injury and calumny.

I turn to a Prashant Bhushan and draw my breath in pride that such advocates of little people’s causes exist who do not practice in law courts for humongous sums but to protect the hard won rights of “we the people” as enshrined in the Constitution of India — a man who suffers the slings and arrows of the bench and of rude opinion without batting an eyelid. A man of exemplary and undeterred conscience who constantly reminds the dispensers of justice of their own conscience.

I read of a judge belabouring a viciously sectarian electronic news channel for mounting programmes to malign an entire community; and I read a noble and upright ex-police DGP arraign a police force for launching unwarranted cases against citizens who were merely protesting peacefully a blatantly sectarian and unconstitutional law, and for targeting its investigation, not against those who actually fomented violence in those protests but against those who became the victims of their shenanigans.

I salute Julio Ribeiro for the courage of his conviction, and the impartiality of his advocacy and critique that testify to his commitment to his oath of office. And I admire yet another ex-DGP, Vikram Singh, for endorsing his stand, and for often setting many a record straight in a no-holds-barred integrity of mind and fearless uprightness.

I read a newspaper, almost alone among many, speak truth to power from its editorial columns, and I see web portals that still carry on with the work of critiquing authoritarian subversions of democratic, constitutional, and humanist values, and the work of protecting, preserving, and disseminating the wholesome ideals of pluralism and secularism rooted in the anti-colonial freedom movement, and, indeed, in the still healthful minds and hearts of ordinary women and men across communities, castes, and classes.

I see hundreds upon hundreds of educated professionals willing to lend their names to causes that are anathema to the powers-that-be, without regard to their own careers or safety. And outstandingly selfless humanists like Harsh Mander who had the commitment to chuck his Indian Administrative perch in order to devote himself 24/7 to the cause of justice for the defenceless and downtrodden. And many like him who likewise mix with the soil and tirelessly function as keepers of the nation’s conscience.

I hear voices from among the political opposition still unfazed by the brute majority of the ruling party, and regional satraps determined to keep out the forces of homogenising decimation from their spheres of influence.

Also read: Book Review: A Commitment to Sensitive Liberalism, but at What Cost?

And I see faces and hear voices from among the common people who, despite unconscionable suffering and exploitation, mince no words about the rulers of the day who promised them much, but left them holding the sack of interminable miseries.

Migrants head to board buses at Tau Devi Lal Stadium to reach the railway station for catching a Shramik Special train to the Bilaspur in Chhattisgarh, during ongoing COVID-19 lockdown in Gurugram, Sunday, June 14, 2020. Photo: PTI

I count the cacti and keep alive the hope of a springtime when the desert may be dotted with one oasis after another, till the sands are no longer overbearing.

I turn the pages of history and remind myself again and again that cruelty has a day, and, when it crosses all bounds, the least voice raised on behalf of justice and freedom knocks down its elaborately built edifices.

I recall that only some seventy grandees were present in the first Congress of 1885, none of whom dreamt even of dominion status, not to speak of Independence, and yet Bhagat Singh, Ashfaqullah, Subhash, Ambedkar, Nehru, Azad, Aruna and Gandhi followed, lifting millions of women and men to heights of courage and resolve, until the goal of freedom was attained.

I know that in my own life, what is left of it, I may not, indeed, will not, see the Spring I spoke of; but I also know that time and history did not begin with my birth, nor will it end with my death.

I trust the soul of the nation to find tongue again, and, in simple but decisive syllables, say no to hate and bigotry, and yes to love and camaraderie.

Badri Raina has taught at Delhi University.

Don’t Wish Me on August 14

Over the last few years of school, August 14 would arrive and I would have to undergo an annual nationality test.

Back when I was in school, when news anchors didn’t spew hate and political debates were limited to the dinner table, I used to celebrate the secular fabric of my country. Its diverse and accepting nature appealed to me.

Belonging to a minority community didn’t matter then – or maybe it did, but not as much as it does today. I remember singing the national anthem at school, excited and bursting with patriotism. With my friends, it never felt I was different in any way – they accepted me for who I was and so did I.

Polarisation, communal profiling and bigotry were concepts far from my understanding. With more awareness of such issues and just how prevalent they are, I found myself recently recalling a part of my past that I shouldn’t have tolerated; rather, one that shouldn’t have happened at all.

Over the last few years of school, August 14 would arrive and I would have to undergo an annual nationality test.

While students would be busy preparing for the Independence Day celebrations, some of my classmates would come and wish me ‘azaadi‘ – even though it was only August 14.

It would fill me with anguish. I knew why they mocked me. I knew it very well.

Also read: Being a Muslim in School: My Story

It’s because I’m a Muslim. And “technically”, according to some of them, I “shouldn’t be on this side of the India-Pakistan border”.

I would go home and cry after tolerating similar slurs all day at school – where I would be wished ‘Happy Independence Day’.

But one day, I decided I was going to be more assertive. “Don’t say that again. I am an Indian, not a Pakistani, ” I said.

I was asked to not be a spoilsport and said that it was all just jokes. But they saw I was furious and apologised. I felt better after that, but the jokes never really stopped.

I didn’t complain to my teacher, don’t bother asking why. Maybe it was out of fear of losing my friends. So whenever I received such wishes after that first confrontation, I would just smile and state simply that I was Indian.

Sometimes, even I would reiterate to myself that “these are just jokes”.

I now know that they weren’t just jokes. They were communal slurs being thrown at me in a bid to humiliate me because of my religion. These were slurs and insults that can adversely affect a child socially, mentally and emotionally. Using stereotypes about a community and collectively targeting them is something people have been adept at for ages. What I underwent is a form of bullying stemming from just that.

Why am I writing about this after ten years? Thanks to the vitriolic national conversation these days, it wasn’t long before my brain regurgitated these memories.

These incidents don’t mean I don’t have friends from other faiths or hold a personal grudge against anyone. I have some very dear people in my life who happen to be Hindus, Christians, Sikhs, Jains and our relationship till date is unaffected by such factors.

But the point is, why do I and so many like me have to undergo such nationality tests to prove I belong here? Why can’t we start seeing a person beyond religion or caste and teach our children the same? In such an advanced world, how long will religion-based hate govern us?

I am an Indian Muslim and I am as Indian as any of you reading this. Not any less.

So please do not wish me on August 14.

Ayaan Khan is a first-year student studying Statistics at Ramjas College, University of Delhi. He’s particularly interested in journalism and poetry.

Featured image credit: Pariplab Chakraborty

The Kids Aren’t Alright

What does it mean to come of age in such dystopian times?

Baby boomers came of age in a post-War environment, marked by space races. Gen X in India did so in a newly-liberalised and globalised economy. Millennials were raised in the atmosphere of a post 9/11 world, witness to the Great Recession of 2008 as well as unprecedented technological progress.

Now Gen Z is coming of age in the middle of a pandemic, having experienced two once-in-a-generation economic collapses, along with a broader backdrop of an urgent and impending climate crisis.

One can only be as hopeful and optimistic about their future as the times permit, and Gen Z is no different. As lawmakers and leaders continue to peddle identity politics, widen income inequalities, favour corporations and their pockets, perpetuate hatred and bigotry, and live in denial of the climate crisis, teenagers and young adults do not find it incredibly easy to enjoy the ‘best time of their lives’.

Climate change, racism, bigotry and problems of such sort have existed for years, but instead of being eliminated, they are more than alive and kicking in 2020. There is a sense of distrust and pessimism for those in charge that blankets almost all of Gen Z, as more often than not it is the youth which has to take to the streets and do all that is possible to get leaders to care – as history has shown time and again.

Now, the very generations that neglected and created a world almost unfit to live in are the ones who complain and call the youth ‘snowflakes’ and ‘lazy’ for voicing their concerns.

Another factor that is common among Gen Z across the world is the fact that most of them have been raised and shaped by the internet; digital spaces are like a second home. Facebook was popularised by millennials, Instagram by millennials and early Gen Z, and TikTok by Gen Z. As time progresses, the younger generations shift to newer platforms while the older ones get dominated by parents – a case in point is the influx of memes featuring minions from Despicable Me on Facebook.

Being brought up in times of such political, social and environmental significance is reason enough for school and college-going kids to want their voices to be heard. But they are instead met with the older generations’ dismissal of their opinions – for the youth is far too ‘naïve’, ‘inexperienced’ and ‘idealistic’.

Digital spaces, especially the ones untouched by boomers and Gen X, serve as a safe spaces for these teens and young adults to indulge in online activism, educate themselves, and express their demands from the demagogues leading half the world’s population – all without the fear of being judged and looked down upon by their parents and grandparents.

Also read: Is India’s Gen-Z Asking the Right Questions?

Couple this sense of dismay and defeat with technological progress and access like never before and we get two products – mobilisation and online activism, and a very absurd meme culture. Twitter, Instagram and TikTok alone have proven to be extremely instrumental in mobilising support for youth-led protests and movements all across the world – be it the Black Lives Matter protests, the anti CAA-NRC protests in India, or the Fridays for Future walkouts.

These platforms have served as an efficient tool to create awareness, educate the youth and garner support for causes that, if ignored, would have grave and almost irreversible consequences. Such spaces also provide the opportunity for one to highlight the injustices they have been through, caused by the very hierarchies of the society that we live in – right from calling out sexual abusers (for the law has often failed victims) to calling out police brutality on minorities and the marginalised.

And, on a few occasions, we get to see videos from K-pop concerts drown out bigoted and racist content posted online under hashtags like #AllLivesMatter, #MAGA and #BuildTheWall. Closer home, Gen Z took over the comment section of one of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Instagram posts, and flooded it with what are known as ‘fairy comments’, as not only a response to the six years served by him in office, but also to the ban on TikTok.

An ironic and sometimes dark meme culture, on the other hand, is a product of using humour as a coping mechanism. In a world plagued by innumerable problems and a host of leaders who could not care less about it, a rising number of depressed and anxious teens and young adults take to the internet to collectively grieve and laugh about their impending doom.

No other generation has been raised with a deadline by when they can still try and stop their home from being inhabitable, and hence no other generation has ever had the glorious opportunity to spend their formative years saying ‘deceased’ and ‘wheezing’ as a response to tweets that read the “world’s not ending guys we’re not that lucky”. Users come together to bond over everything under the sun – from social and political crises to leaving ironic stan (i.e. obsessive fans, for the uninitiated) comments on a suspected serial killer’s Instagram account, forming a wide space of absurd humour on the internet.

Having been raised in times of an amalgamation of almost every imaginable crisis does not leave much room for what the youth cannot joke about and bond over. Everything is meme-able; nothing is ever quite out of reach.

Gen Z knows very well that the issues they feel very strongly about can truly only be resolved once they get into lawmaking offices, or have an older political leader who sincerely represents their interests. Until then, they educate, mobilise, laugh, cry, and then laugh again over their sense of hopelessness.

Sure Billy Joel and his generation did not start the fire, but it (and those who came after them) did not do nearly enough to put it out. Instead the fire is now burning with strength like never before, and the internet is where the youth finds refuge from its flames.

Kavya Sharma is a 21-year-old who is constantly screaming into the void about the trivial obstacles posed by the coronavirus in her life.

Featured image credit: Pariplab Chakraborty

How Did Everything Change?

‘From blue skies to narrow minds, from green grass to bigoted adults.’

As kids we played together –
Boys and girls, Hindus and Muslims, Dalits and Brahmins.
How did these identities overtake us?
In the playground, we were all children
In life, it seems we are in a battlefield.
I wonder, when did everything change?

In that playground there was no judgement.
No one raised a brow if my skirt flew above my knees,
No one worried about engineering, commerce, math or science.
No one bothered about the quota which granted Amrita a seat in IIT,
No one asked my friend Imran whether his mother cooked beef for Eid,
No one doubted his allegiance in an India-Pakistan match.
In that playground, we were only children.

Why then does the boy I once played football with catcall me on my way to college?
Why then was the literature-loving Sunil forced by his family to go to Kota?
Why then does no parent want their child to take tuitions from Amrita?
Why then did Imran’s family have to move to a ‘safer’ neighbourhood?
How did that playground turn into a battlefield?

I’ll tell you how, I’ll tell you when.
We changed when our silver screen heroes raised their hand on the women they ‘loved’,
We changed when our parents warned us ‘there’s no future for history graduates’,
We changed when our relatives blamed reservation for ‘stealing’ our ‘well-deserved’ college seats,
We changed when the ministers whose hate speeches we heard, won by a thumping majority.
That’s when and that’s how everything changed.

And so it happened that these children grew up
From blue skies to narrow minds, from green grass to bigoted adults.
Why couldn’t they let the playground be?
If only it was left untouched
If only our innocent minds had not been poisoned
But how then would their agenda be served?
For if love triumphs over hatred
And prejudices make way for acceptance,
We would have a mind of our own; and act on our own
And isn’t that their biggest threat?

Anwesha Basu is a PhD candidate in Economics at IGIDR, Mumbai

Featured image illustration: Pariplab Chakraborty