Followers

Monday, February 11, 2019

Caught between two extremisms


Wahhabi influence and Hindu nationalism are responsible for the radicalisation of a small segment of Muslim youth

News reports about occasional acts of terrorism outside of Jammu and Kashmir, which for historical reasons forms a special case, attributed to young Indian Muslims have appeared intermittently in the press. In addition, several recent reports suggest that global jihadi organisations such as the Islamic State and Al-Qaeda in the Indian Subcontinent (AQIS) have recruited a few Indian Muslim youth primarily by exploiting the latter’s local grievances to serve their own global goals.
Many analysts, Indian and foreign, had assumed until recently that Indian Muslims were immune to extremist propaganda because of both the syncretic and moderate nature of Indian Islam and the democratic and secular character of the country which made them feel they were equal participants in the political process. Both these assumptions are now problematic, as several factors have been at work in the past three decades that challenge this conventional wisdom.
Wahhabi influence
The first is the increasing influence of Saudi Wahhabism and related forms of Salafism on Islam as practised in the Indian subcontinent. This is the result of several inter-related variables but the most important of these is the vast increase in employment opportunities in the energy-rich West Asian countries following the oil boom of the 1970s. This resulted in many Indians of all faiths temporarily locating to these countries in search of higher earnings. While a much larger number of Indians belonging to other religions moved to West Asia in search of lucrative jobs, both white and blue-collar, the religio-cultural impact of the encounter with the fundamentalist form of Islam followed in these countries, especially Saudi Arabia, on a section of Indian Muslim emigrants was qualitatively different.
Several of these temporary migrants returned to India enamoured with the obscurantist ethos of these oil-rich countries. This fascination was publicly exhibited above all in the adoption by a section of Muslim women, often under patriarchal pressure, of an ultraconservative dress code, including the niqab, or full face covering, popular in Saudi Arabia and some other West Asian countries. This dress code is very different from the traditional concept of purdah (covering up or modesty) practised by conservative Muslim families in the Indian subcontinent.
Protected by Sufism
But this display of presumed orthodoxy constituted merely the tip of the iceberg. The impact of Wahhabi/Salafi Islam on the mindset of a segment of returnees, who also passed on their preferences to a much larger group of relatives and acquaintances already impressed by the former’s newly acquired prosperity, was more profound. Islamic beliefs and practices among some Indian Muslims began to approximate the harsh Wahhabi dogma, which stands in stark contrast to the indigenous version of Islam in India. The vast majority of Muslims in the Indian subcontinent belong to the Hanafi sect based on the most liberal school of Islamic jurisprudence.
Moreover, traditionally Indian Islam has been greatly influenced by Sufi teachings and is, therefore, tolerant and accepting of religious diversity. Visitors to major Sufi shrines, such as those of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti in Ajmer and Nizamuddin Aulia in Delhi, where people of all confessions come to pray and seek blessings, can testify to the syncretic spirit of Indian Islam. Consequently, it harbours natural defences against extremism in belief and practice. The ideological infiltration of Wahhabism/Salafism has eroded some of these defences and made a section of Muslims more insular and, therefore, open to extremist ideas.
Equally important, the spectacular rise of Hindutva or Hindu nationalism from the 1990s has had a major psychological impact on a section of Muslim youth, prompting their estrangement from the national mainstream. Inter-religious riots in which Muslims suffered disproportionately had been common in India since Independence. In some cases the police killed Muslim youth in fake encounters. The Hashimpura massacre in Uttar Pradesh by members of the Provincial Armed Constabulary in 1987 was the most macabre example of such incidents.
However, until the 1990s the vast majority of Indian Muslims treated such occurrences as aberrations and their belief in the secular and non-discriminatory character of the Indian state remained unshaken. The demolition in 1992 of the Babri mosque by a Hindu mob under the direction of Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) luminaries and the riots that ensued, in which scores of Muslims lost their lives, shook the confidence of many Muslims in the secular character of the Indian state. What was most galling was the Central government’s apathy in the face of this brazen act of mob violence despite the fact that it had been forewarned. This event began the process of alienation among a section of Muslim youth from the Indian state.
This feeling grew exponentially a decade later in 2002 with the massacre of about 1,000 Muslims in Gujarat under BJP rule to avenge the death of 59 kar sevaks who were burnt to death in a train at Godhra after an altercation with local Muslims. What added insult to injury was the inaction, or, as the Human Rights Watch report on the bloodbath put it, the refusal of the state machinery to protect Muslim citizens.
More recently, the disenchantment caused by these earlier events has been reinforced by the lynching of several Muslims in northern and central India on the pretext that they were taking cows for slaughter or eating beef. The lynching of Mohammad Akhlaq in Dadri, in western Uttar Pradesh, in 2015 on suspicion that he had stored beef in his house was the most chilling example of such incidents. It was followed by additional acts of mob violence carried out with relative impunity by the so-called gau rakshak (cow protector) vigilantes. Such incidents have led to a widespread feeling among Indian Muslims that the state, instead of providing security to them, now colludes with those determined to intimidate them into submission. This series of actions and reactions makes it evident that the growth of Hindu nationalism has acted as a major stimulus for the radicalisation of a section of Muslim society in India and that the two phenomena feed off each other.
Onus on governing elites
Opinion leaders and religious scholars from within the Muslim community have the primary duty to confront and defeat the malign Wahhabi-Salafi influence on Indian Muslims in order to preserve the liberal and syncretic nature of Indian Islam thus pre-empting the spread of extremist ideology among Muslim youth. However, the impact of the growth of Hindu nationalism on the Muslim psyche can be countered only by the policies and actions of the governing elites at the Centre and in the States. Only they can take concrete steps, such as quick and impartial action against those responsible for creating mayhem in the name of religion, to reassure Muslims that the state will not shirk its responsibility of providing them physical security and ensuring that they are treated with fairness and dignity. This will be the best antidote to the percolation of radical ideas among Muslim youth by removing their sense of alienation from the Indian state that in the long run can threaten the country’s security.
Mohammed Ayoob is University Distinguished Professor Emeritus of International Relations, Michigan State University and Non-Resident Senior Fellow, Center for Global Policy, Washington DC
Source: 11/02/2019

Gained in Translation: Gandhi’s art of disagreement

Nathuram Godse and Gandhi both had an abiding love for India but Godse was so deeply offended by Gandhi’s idea of India that killing Gandhi was, for Godse, the most satisfying way of settling this disagreement.

On the evening of October 30, 1947, exactly three months before Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was shot dead, one person who had come to the prayer meeting on the lawns of Birla House objected to verses from the Quran being included in the prayers. The majority of the people present were in favour of the entire multi-faith prayer and they compelled the person who had objected to leave.
The entire episode deeply pained Gandhi. First of all, he said, all are welcome to the prayer meeting “but after coming here it is not good manners to raise any objection”.
This was no mere difference of opinion on some fleeting issue of the moment. The objector was striking at the very heart of what was most dear to Gandhi — prayer and acknowledging that all faiths are paths to the same divinity.
Yet even this did not prevent Gandhi from approaching the objector with empathy and seeing that there was pain behind his anger. At the same time, Gandhi firmly stood his ground: “…I am helpless because it (verses from Quran) is an inseparable part of my prayer.” Gandhi vowed to continue to persevere, despite this disagreement, strictly within the boundaries of nonviolence.
This story does not offer any easy copy-paste solution for our times. But it is potentially an entry point for reflecting on the delicate art of disagreement. Before we look more closely at that incident on the lawns of Birla house, 72 years ago, there is merit in re-stating some well-known fundamentals.
To be human is to disagree. Diversity of views and convictions has been an essential part of what has brought our species this far. The scale of viciousness and open hatred over social media may be new but the problem itself is very old.
Historically, disagreement has led to a wide range of responses — from killing, shouting down or ignoring the opponent to listening and attempting dialogue with the “other”.
In India, at present, it is easy to mistakenly believe that religion, caste and other forms of social identity are the main causes of violent disagreement. But some of the most famous murders in recent history have happened within the same ideology. For example, Stalin not only commissioned the murder of Leon Trotsky, his rival within the communist movement, he also presented the assassin a medal in absentia.
Nathuram Godse and Gandhi both had an abiding love for India but Godse was so deeply offended by Gandhi’s idea of India that killing Gandhi was, for Godse, the most satisfying way of settling this disagreement.
Today it is common to hear praise for Godse’s idea of India. Those who hold this view will sympathise with the person who objected to the inclusion of verses from the Quran in the evening prayer meetings led by Gandhi.
Usually this is seen as a disagreement between the advocates of Hindutva and those who believe that to support Godse is to betray both the legacy of the freedom struggle and the very essence of what it means to be a Hindu.
January 30, Gandhi’s martyrdom day, is commonly recognised as a stark marker for this on-going dispute in Indian society. Gandhi was indeed killed for his refusal to give up his respect for all faiths. But the political urgency of this dispute can obscure the core significance of this day. Gandhi’s assassin was, above all, striking at the art of disagreement which Gandhi had so assiduously cultivated.
Gandhi’s life and his politics brought forth a truth that ordinary people knew instinctively — namely, that a mat-bhed, difference over an issue, need not become a man-bhed, a division of hearts. Among the millions who lined up to pay respects to Gandhi’s ashes, many would have disagreed with him on many specific issues but that paled in comparison with the glow left behind by his art of disagreement.
Current projections of Godse as a hero are essentially about obliterating the vital difference between disagreement over an issue and a division of hearts. In this context what are the key lessons from Gandhi’s experiments with the art of disagreement?
First and foremost we must recognise, if not celebrate, that Gandhi’s practice was not perfect. This is why it is human, accessible and replicable. For instance, Gandhi’s differences with B R Ambedkar over separate electorates are perhaps the best-known instance where Gandhi fell short. Gandhi’s fasting onto death on this issue had an internal and authentic logic, but it acted upon Ambedkar as a form of coercion and laid the grounds for a lingering bitterness.
Here then is just one version of Gandhi’s key gains in the art of disagreement.
One, engagement with the other’s views is always possible and worthwhile — no matter how obnoxious that view may appear at first glance. Two, this can and must be done while being true to the fundamentals of your own conviction. Three, this requires a willingness to both listen deeply to the “other” so as to decipher their underlying concerns and anxieties and to respond accordingly.
Of course, all of the above is possible only if we seek power with others rather than over them. When there is confidence in power with others then there is potentially strength in agreeing to disagree. It is when we crave power over others that disagreement veers towards fatal conflict and any reduction in the polarisation seems threatening because a resolution of the conflict becomes anathema.
Gandhi was able to cultivate the art of disagreement not because he was drawing on modern liberal values but because he located himself in the spiritual traditions of the Indian subcontinent. Seeing all faiths as different paths leading to the same truth was only one part of this legacy. More importantly, he was rooted in the conviction that when primacy is given to the spiritual domain then our worldly disagreements become proportionally small and fleeting.
Therefore, the shouting down of the man who objected to the Quran verses was a form of violence. That evening, on October 30, Gandhi refused to have the prayer meeting. But he was clear that “disappointing 300 persons for the sake of two or three is also a kind of violence.”
So the next day the multi-faith prayer gathering proceeded complete with verses from the Quran. In case anyone objects, Gandhi had said earlier, the rest of those gathered must put up with the objection without anger: “Because you are in the majority, you should not think that you can ignore the people who are protesting. If you think you can ignore them, you would be following the path of violence. We must be more concerned about the people who are in the minority.”
Having refused to drop the Quran verses from his prayers Gandhi invited the objectors to meet him later and explain how they were harming the Hindu religion. “Personally, I think I have only done some good to Hinduism. Through this practice of reciting from the Quran I am able to draw my Muslim friends nearer to me. I have not done anything wrong in this.” After the prayer meeting, Gandhiji thanked the objectors for remaining silent and also complimented the rest of the gathering for tolerating their protests.
Three months later, the objector took the form of Nathuram Godse and killed Gandhi.
Godse’s disagreement with Gandhi ended in murder. When the court found Godse guilty and passed a death sentence, Gandhi’s family and followers pleaded that the assassin’s life be spared.
It is for each one of us to decide whether it was violence or ahimsa that was victorious on the lawns of Birla House on January 30, 1948. As individual beings, as members of a family and as a society — we cannot hope to resolve differences of issues if we are caught in the quicksands that divide hearts.
This is an abridged text of the 46th Vishnu Shastri Chiplunkar Memorial Lecture delivered at Ruia College, Mumbai on January 24. Abridged and translated from Hindi by the author
Source: 10/02/2019

In Good Faith: Hinduisms of India

The harsh religion of today is based on illiteracy of texts, is divisive.

During the Rajasthan assembly elections, a Congress candidate, C P Joshi, was singled out for a casteist public speech. Brahmin by birth, Joshi declared that the likes of Narendra Modi, Uma Bharati and Sadhvi Ritambhara, who came from castes traditionally considered “low”, had no right to speak about Hinduism. That prerogative, he suggested, squarely rested on the Brahmins who had the requisite knowledge. Had Joshi been aware of his community’s historical role before and during the British period, and expressed himself in a more nuanced manner, he could have avoided embarrassment to himself and his party.
Brahmins formed an alliance with the British and derived great benefits, which continued into the decades immediately following Independence. But the numbers game, inescapable in a democracy, has increasingly pushed them to the margins.
Traditionally Brahmins, except in rare cases where the learned ones received land grants, depended on alms and honorariums for performing domestic rituals and occasional gifts from rich patrons. With the coming of the Europeans, Brahminical learning and their old manuscript pothis became internationally marketable commodities. Even before the British became a territorial power, Pandits agreed to go to the residence of Europeans to teach them Sanskrit for monetary considerations. Eventually, the very definition of mlechchha was changed to suit the times. Instead of being a despised barbarian, a mlechchha was now one who could not pronounce Sanskrit correctly. Post the Battle of Plassey, the new rulers hired Brahmins at high salaries, treated them with due respect, and patronised their institutions. Sanskrit was taken out of the preserve of the Brahmins, and Hindu sacred texts made their way to public libraries.
If the Brahmins opened the doors of Sanskrit learning to mlechchhas, they could not possibly have kept the erstwhile shudras out. In colonial Bengal, the old aristocracy was destroyed and its place taken by people from whom, traditionally, Brahmins would not even accept drinking water. They were selectively given a ritual upgrade so that Brahmins could accept gold from them. The biggest zamindar of colonial Bengal, Maharaja Nubkissen, was born a sonar-bania but successfully passed off as a kayastha. His adoptive grandson, Raja Radhakant Deb, emerged as the biggest Sanskrit scholar of the 19th century and a leading conservative leader of his time.
With a view to blunting the attack on Hinduism by the missionaries, Ram Mohan Roy (caste surname Bannerjee) met them more than half-way by arguing that the superstitious practices which deform the Hindu religion have nothing to do with the “spirit of its dictates”; and that the real or pure Hinduism was the one based on the Upanishads. In the late 1810s, while building the case for banning widow burning, he selectively enlisted the support of ancient rishis like Manu and Yajnavalkya, while condemning authorities such as Gotama. Similarly, a generation later, when Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar (Bannerjee) campaigned for widow remarriage, his opponents far outnumbered supporters. The government did not go by head-count, but by Vidyasagar’s assertion that, “this custom is not in accordance with the Shastras, or with true Hindu law”. The roots of Hinduism were pushed further back to the Vedas themselves by Gujarat-born Swami Dayanand Saraswati, who gave them the status of revealed texts.
British patronage made Brahmins less rigid. In 1832, the appointment of Premchand Tarkabagish as a professor in Sanskrit College Calcutta was opposed by the highfalutin Brahmin professors and students on the ground that he was a Sudrayaji Brahmin (one who administered ritual to the low castes). Horace Hayman Wilson who oversaw the College imperiously told the objectors to leave if they so wished. Of course, nobody left.
In matters of social reform, most Brahmins were conservative, the Benares ones the more so than those from Bengal. The reform movements, however, were invariably led by Brahmins. The explanation may simply lie in the caste psychology. The Brahmins considered themselves the living repositories of tradition which they had a right to preserve, interpret and modify if need be. For the non-Brahmins (such as Radhakant Deb), tradition was a fossil that had come their way and which needed to be preserved as it was.
The 19th century, solutions to contemporary problems had to be justified by selectively quoting ancient scriptures. Hinduism in actual practice was brought to the centrestage by Mahatma Gandhi when he set out to make the nationalist movement mass-based.
Gandhi first spoke of Ram Rajya on May 8, 1915, in the context of the Ramayana. In 1920, he contrasts the British Rakshas Raj with Ram Rajya, describes himself as a Sanatani and a Vaishnav, and quotes Tulsidas and the Gita. However, by 1929, he is ready to make his Ram Rajya secular: “By Ramarajya I do not mean Hindu Raj. I mean by Ramarajya Divine Raj, the Kingdom of God. For me Rama and Rahim are one and the same deity.” It is remarkable that Gandhi takes a term from a popular Hindu epic and tries to develop it to serve a secular purpose.
Jawaharlal Nehru was rather fond of being addressed as Pandit. And yet, he formulated and propagated irreligious secularism. This was laid to rest by Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s soft Hinduism. Concerted moves are now afoot to bring in its place a harsh Hinduism. This new formulation does not distinguish between sense and nonsense and does not know how to reconcile Puranic and archival Hinduisms.
From Rammohun and Radhakant Deb to Gita Press, the activists at least read the texts and sought to employ them to serve their purpose. The harsh Hinduism of today is based on illiteracy, and is unhistorical, divisive and hateful.
Source: Indian Express, 11/02/2019

Informal jobs are the new norm, not the exception

We need to identify strategies to organise informal workers to increase their collective representative voice.

Over the last one year, those in the highest echelons of government have claimed that India is facing a jobs’ data crisis, not a jobs crisis. In the absence of any officially released employment-unemployment statistics since the Labour Bureau’s household survey of 2015-16, the lack of any recent data (barring that of the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy, a private agency ) is certainly a problem. But the real issue, which is more deep rooted and structural than any data challenge and has attracted relatively little attention in the jobs debate, is that of the dominance of informal employment.
The National Sample Survey’s (NSS) last quinquennial employment-unemployment survey (2011-12) showed that 92% of India’s workforce is informally employed. More recently, the International Labour Organization (ILO) provided comparable estimates on the size of the informal economy at the global and regional levels for the first time (Women and men in the informal economy: A statistical picture, 2018). The report found that 88.2% of employment in India was informal, significantly higher than the global average of 60%. What is more, the prevalence of informal employment in India was comparable to that of sub-Saharan Africa (89.2%). With little job security and limited access to safety nets, most of the informally employed remain vulnerable to health hazards, economic downturns and natural catastrophes. It is no surprise that the ILO estimates that three out of four workers in India will fall in the category of vulnerable employment by 2019.
The extent and importance of the traditional informal sector has persisted in India over the decades and it has not been absorbed by the modern sector as expected with robust economic growth. Many attribute this to factors such as India’s labour regulatory environment and trends in trade and technology. However, it needs to be noted that India’s pattern of structural transformation where the GDP growth has been driven by sectors which are not employment intensive has generated limited productive formal job opportunities for the country’s low skilled and unskilled workforce. Consequently, the poor, who do not have the luxury to remain unemployed in their wait for formal jobs, resort to informal employment as a survival mechanism.
What is more, many of the new jobs being created in the platform economy (such as the often-cited success stories of taxi aggregators like Ola and Uber) are also non-standard in nature. In other words, they are outside the ambit of laws and regulations covering minimum wages and other benefits. While for some, these informal work arrangements may be a matter of choice and a way of supplementing their income, for most others they are associated with job insecurity, earnings volatility and reflect precarious work as they can no longer rely on an employer to pay their pension or cover their health care. Thus, as old forms of informal employment persist, new forms are also emerging. We need to confront the reality that the informal economy is increasingly the norm, not the exception. Informal workers are not the marginal or temporary entities depicted in early development theories.
There is no denying the importance of creating an enabling environment for productive enterprises to flourish and generate more formal jobs. It is another matter that this cannot be achieved by mandating a 10% quota in government jobs for economically weaker sections (defined generously by annual family income of less than Rs 8 lakhs), when the pool of government jobs is shrinking. But, the real policy challenge lies in how we can improve the quality of informal work and reduce the decent work deficit in the informal sector. This requires a multipronged approach.
In addition to providing social security benefits for informal workers, there is a need to rethink how social protection systems and labour market institutions need to adapt to a changing world of work where traditional employer-employee relationships are likely to erode. We need to identify strategies to organise informal workers (both the working poor and gig economy workers) to increase their collective representative voice and ensure that their fundamental rights at work are not violated. The lack of data cannot any longer be cited as an excuse to deny the enormity of these challenges.
Radhicka Kapoor is a fellow at ICRIER, and has worked with the Planning Commission and International Labour Organization
Source: Economic Times, 11/02/2019

Extraordinary In Ordinary


Japanese poem Haiku is the smallest poetry form in the world but one of the most penetrating. The word haiku means ‘the beginning’. The Haiku poets say: We only begin, we never end. The poet begins, the listener has to complete it. If a poem is complete with the poet, then nothing is left for the listener who will remain a mere spectator. Then the act is not creative. Basho was a mystic poet who has written amazing Haikus: “When I look carefully,/ I see the nazunia blooming/ By the hedge!” Now, this might not seem like great poetry. Let’s go into it with more sympathy, because Basho is being translated; in his own language it has a totally different texture and flavour. The nazunia is a very common flower. To see a nazunia carefully, a meditator is needed, a delicate consciousness is needed, otherwise you will bypass it. Unless you penetrate it with a sympathetic heart you will miss it. The last syllable, ‘kana’ in Japanese means “I am amazed!” Basho is possessed by its beauty. It is not really the nazunia, it is Basho’s insight, his open heart. The word ‘carefully’ has to be remembered in all its meanings, but the root meaning is meditatively. It means without mind, no clouds of thought in the sky of your consciousness, no memories passing by, no desires... utter emptiness. When in such a state of nomind you look, even a nazunia is transported into another world. It becomes a lotus of the paradise; the extraordinary has been found in the ordinary.

Source: Economic Times, 11/02/2019