The Grinch who steals Christmas: Holidays and the Hindutva state

Original illustration by Angela Ferrao

We live in interesting times. Sometime around the middle of this month the press broke reports that the Union Government wanted to mark the twenty-fifth of December, birthdays of Hindu nationalist leaders Atal Behari Vajpayee and Madan Mohan Malaviya, as ‘Good Governance’ day. Towards this end, the media informed us, schools would remain open, and students would be encouraged to participate in a national essay writing competition. Howls of protest rang out across the country, and the Ministry of Human Resource Development hurriedly rubbished these reports. There was no question of having schools open on Christmas Day, they assured the country and added that the competition was voluntary and entries could be submitted virtually.

For the moment then, the crisis seemed to have receded. Nevertheless, the episode refreshed my memory over two earlier episodes involving holidays. One is an event that lies within the public domain, the other a personal memory that I would like to share and reflect on.

The first episode dates back a number of years, when the government of the then Chief Minister of Goa, Manohar Parrikar, contemplated withdrawing the public holidays on the Good Friday and the feast of St. Francis Xavier. As can be expected, there was a hue and cry then too, until this controversial move was undone, with Parrikar later suggesting that the move had been an error.

The second episode dates from the time when I was working with an NGO in Hyderabad. I realised with some shock that this corporate-funded entity had not declared Eid (I forget which of the two Eids it was) a holiday. On the contrary, it was marked as an optional holiday. If one chose, for religious reasons, one could take the day off, but the rest of the office would continue working. I also recall being told that one could take the day off, but I would be merely eating into my own stock of optional holidays. I recollect sensing the suggestion of the threat that I would be compromising my days of Christian celebration were I to take the day off to commemorate the feast.

I was quite upset by this scenario. I had recently returned from Patna where I had a number of Muslim friends and had been sucked into a series of Eids, weddings, and other celebrations. Even though I was bereft of this network in Hyderabad, I could not contemplate an Eid that was to be spent working, instead of feasting with friends. It hurt, but rather than create trouble and stand up for a principle I was not yet sure of, I went to work that Eid day, mournfully walking past masses of men praying at the mosques along the route I took to work.

These memories were swirling around my head these past couple of days I realised that the issue of cancelling holidays, or restricting these holidays is much more important than showing disrespect or disregard for religious minorities. On the contrary, such governmental actions ensure that religious boundaries are hardened and religions are formed into water tight compartments. The learning from Hyderabad was just that, you can choose to be a Catholic and take your holiday, or you can choose to show solidarity with Muslims. We are not preventing you from celebrating Eid, but you need to make a choice. Similarly, had the feast of St. Francis Xavier continued to have lost its holiday, a great number of Catholics would have still taken the day off to visit Old Goa and venerate the relics of the saint. This option would perhaps not have been so definite for those Goans who are not practicing Catholics but still venerate St. Francis Xavier. It is possible that they would have continued with their daily routines. Similarly had the holiday on Good Friday been cancelled it would not only have complicated the possibility of having clear roads for the public processions that mark Good Friday, it would also have complicated the participation of non-Catholics, who light up the streets, and offer incense to perfume the funeral path of Christ. 

We must remember that we live in an environment where thanks to the threat of an aggressive Hindu nationalism, all religious groups have been hardening their identities and castigating what are called syncretic practices. When a government restricts a holiday, therefore, or fails to provide one, it is lending its own strength against these already existent social pressures. The issue of cancelling holidays therefore does not merely impact on the group for whom it is most significant. It impacts all, preventing communal celebrations, visits, exchange of sweets. It goes towards creating a fractured society.

It is in this context that we should evaluate the clarifications of Smriti Irani, Minister for Human Resources Development, on the issue of celebration of ‘Good Governance’ day, as well as the subsequent note from the Prime Minister’s Office that mandated various officers to mark ‘Good Governance’ day.  What is clear is that rather than let Christmas day be, the Central Government has identified the twenty-fifth of December as the day to commemorate ‘Good Governance’ day. The essay competition will continue apace even though the event will be restricted to submissions over the internet. Further, various officers of the Government were expected to attend and conduct commemorations linked to the theme of good governance.

What this effectively amounts to is providing an alternative to the celebrations of Christmas that have become a major feature across India. One does not need to be Christian, nor indeed have Christian friends to celebrate the day. Regardless of their religious persuasion, people engage in secular celebrations of this feast by organising Christmas parties, arranging visits from Santa Claus and the like. The fact is that thanks to a variety of factors, a number of Indians, and especially urban and upwardly mobile Indians are ‘culturally Christian’. They have imbibed many Christian and/or western cultural traditions and celebrate them as if these traditions are their own. That these aspects are not strictly religious is not important, it is in fact exactly the point, that the festival has ceased to be religious alone, but is a cross-communal secular festival. Indeed, if one is to take the historical novel, The Mirror of Beauty seriously, Christmas, or Bada Din was a significant festival in Delhi by the time of the last Mughal emperor, and avidly celebrated by the Mughal elites.

Given the kind of pressure that Indian society places on students to excel and gain laurels, one can imagine that children would be encouraged, if not pressured, to take part in a national competition that could get them national recognition. Remember we live in a country where even a certificate of participation is regarded as useful. As such, having a competition at the time of the Christmas holidays, with a submission on Christmas day, no matter that the submission can be made virtually, ensures that one has created a substantial diversion from the pleasures, and significance, of Christmas. In addition to these competitions, the low-key government commemorations of good governance  that continued even while the holiday was still officially on clearly indicate that the conspiracy to steal Christmas is, therefore, still on.

It should be noted, however, that it is not only the BJP government that is engaged in a project that dismisses Christmas. A variety of organisations in India, including academic and non-governmental, as well as those patronised by the nominally secular-liberals think nothing of hosting significant retreats immediately prior to, or soon after Christmas day. This scheduling ensures that very often Christians have to either opt out of Christmas, or the event, or spend a good part of Christmas day in travel. And, as I pointed out earlier, this callous scheduling does not impact Christians alone, but fractures the possibility of non-Christians in participating in what is a wonderful feast of familial gathering. The loss is communal.

We live in a country where the plethora of holidays we enjoy is often castigated. Over the year these holidays have been vilified merely as days free from work. What this vilification does not recognise is that holidays are a way for us to indicate that an event is important enough for us to take time off work and engage with each other. Even if we choose to not engage with other communities, the holiday continues to be a mark that this other community is important. It is this tradition of honouring those who are unlike us that is at stake when holidays are so callously countermanded.

Feliz Natal! Have a blessed and joyous Christmas season!

(A version of this text was first published in the O Heraldo dated 26  Dec 2014)

Common sense and Hindu nationalism – Why the Catholics in Goa are not Hindu

Can a Goan Catholic be Hindu? Can Catholics professing a tradition of Catholicism that is over five centuries old be considered Hindu in culture? This is what the Chief Minister of Goa, Manohar Parrikar, sought to suggest in a recent interview with Sambuddha Mitra Mustafi of the New York Times India blog India Ink, where he said:

"I am a perfect Hindu, but that is my personal faith, it has nothing to do with government. India is a Hindu nation in the cultural sense. A Catholic in Goa is also Hindu culturally, because his practices don’t match with Catholics in Brazil [a former Portuguese outpost like Goa]; except in the religious aspect, a Goan Catholic’s way of thinking and practice matches a Hindu’s. So Hindu for me is not a religious term, it is cultural. I am not the Hindu nationalist as understood by some TV media – not one who will take out a sword and kill a Muslim. According to me that is not Hindu behavior at all. Hindus don’t attack anyone, they only do so for self-defense – that is our history. But in the right sense of the term, I am a Hindu nationalist."

Parrikar’s bizarre statement was in response to the question of whether he saw himself as a Hindu nationalist. Of course, a quick and easy response to his statement would be to summarily dismiss it as expected rhetoric flowing from his saffron affiliations; yet, questions persist, not least because of the peculiar and oft-misrepresented Goan scenario.

More than meets the eye
 

Goan Catholics today find themselves in a strange situation. On the one hand they are summoned to maintain a distinct Goan identity which rests in large part on the Portuguese past of the territory. This distinct identity is called upon not merely by an officially approved tourism policy and practice, but also by local elites who use the claim of a distinct identity to cyclically generate local mass movements that help them maintain their dominance. On the other hand, as Victor Ferrão argues in his recent book Being a Goan Christian: The Politics of Identity, Rift and Synthesis (2011), there is a simultaneous suggestion that this Catholic ‘cultural’ element is not compatible with a Goan and Indian identity; this is precisely what Parrikar is proposing here. What he further does is to paint the community as a monolithic entity, despite a situation where large segments of the Catholics are being delegitimized by dominant-caste members of their own faith who participate in a Hindu nationalist reading of Goan history.  Parrikar’s statement also distorts history through a saffron lens, contributing to the further marginalization of not only Goan Catholics, but also Goan Muslims, Dalits, and Adivasis.

Finally, when Parrikar says that his Hindu faith has nothing to do with governance, he is cleverly skirting the intimate connection that religion and caste ideologies, including the right-wing one he professes, have with state apparatuses in post-1947 India. In the political mobilizations of the dominant as well as the subaltern sections in India, religion has emerged as a potent and important factor. Our contention, not necessarily a new one, is this: that religion in post-1947 India is not a personal affair; it is deeply public and profoundly political, and has now become even more overtly so with the rise of the BJP.

Goa’s encounter with Christianity
 

This background of political machinations and mobilizations makes it even more necessary to unpack Parrikar’s statement against the actual historical context in which Goa and Goans encountered Christianity.
As has been pointed out by the historian R. E. Frykenberg in his book Christianity in India: From the Beginning to the Present (2008), despite appearances to the contrary, the transmission of Christianity from the proselytizer to the converted always involved shifts in practice. These shifts resulted in new and unique forms of Catholicism or Christianity as the converted took in the message of the faith and made it their own. Thus, when Parrikar views a Goan Catholic as different from “Catholics in Brazil”, he is right only to the extent that there would be some ethno-local differences, because the local culture of Goan Catholics is Goan culture in its multiple variations, including, but not limited to, Hindu culture. Further, just as there are many shades in Goan identity, as also with the universality of Catholicism, there are many identities of the Brazilian Catholic. So which Brazilian Catholic is Parrikar referring to? Or is this also part of the fascist project – to understand every community or region everywhere in terms of its majority or dominant group?
 

Pre-Portuguese Goa was not a Hindu Space.

When Parrikar suggests that the Catholic in Goa is culturally a Hindu, and that Hindus and Catholics in Goa match in their practices and ways of thinking, he lends weight to a particular assumption about pre-Portuguese Goa: that it was a Hindu space. The truth, however, is that the territories that became Goa following Portuguese conquest in 1510 were, if anything, Islamicate spaces. This means that, although the majority of the people were not Muslim, they were culturally influenced by the Persian, Arabic, and Turkic traditions of dominant Muslim groups. As Phillip Wagoner and other scholars of the Deccan have pointed out, the notion of kingship in the early modern Deccan was firmly fixed within Perso-Arabic, and Turko-Afghan traditions that had taken root among the elites of the peninsula. Even the ostensibly Hindu kings of Vijayanagara adopted a vast variety of Islamicate traditions, in addition to styling themselves as “Sultans among Hindu kings”. The control of pre-Portuguese Goa shuffled between the Delhi Sultanate, the Deccan Sultanates, and the Vijayanagar kingdom for close to two centuries before the arrival of the Portuguese. In turn, this laid the ground for an Islamicate culture in the territories. So, when Parrikar proposes that Goan Catholics are culturally Hindu, he effectively obliterates the vibrant erstwhile and contemporary manifestations of the Islamicate in Goa by suggesting that the state’s society is one of Hindus and Catholics 

(with putative Hindu pasts) alone.

Goa’s pre-Portuguese history prior to the Islamicate period similarly reflects a complex diversity. There were communities who followed indigenous belief systems which cannot be considered Hindu, and ruling classes that were only recently Hindu. There is strong evidence of Jain and Buddhist communities in the Goan region in the first millennium of the Common Era, communities who were wealthy enough and politically dominant enough to leave behind fairly substantial architectural remains. While there are those who would lump both Buddhist and Jain ideas into Hinduism today, the fact is that these faiths arose and developed in opposition to brahmanical ideas. Parrikar’s statement thus erases the complex cultural life of pre-Portuguese Goa, collapsing it all into ‘Hindu Culture’ even as Hindu “practices” become the benchmark of evaluating the Goanness and Indianness of a Goan Catholic.

Parrikar’s logic implies that Goan Catholics are lesser citizens

Parrikar’s assertion that Catholics are culturally Hindus has another insidious side to it, for it draws from the old accusation of Hindu nationalist historians that Christianity and Islam are foreign to India. While Parrikar may not have actually said that Christianity is foreign, his statement makes it foreign. The truth though is that just as the Christians of the subcontinent are not foreign, their practices embody the culture of the land too. To label such culture as Hindu is not just erroneous, but also pernicious. As a corollary question to Parrikar’s logic, are Hindus living in Christian-dominated countries ‘culturally Christians’?

As Victor Ferrão demonstrates in his book, assuming and asserting a Hindu or brahmanical character to pre-colonial Goa has another ramification. It brings into play the purity and pollution principle that structures caste life within the political realm. The colonial period, and the colonial introduction of Christianity, is seen as polluting the former purity of the Hindu body politic. Consequently, Catholics are placed outside the purview of legitimate citizenship in Goa and India, because the nation’s purity is predicated upon assumptions of its essential brahmanical Hinduness. In Ferrão’s words: “Being polluted by the colonial era, [the Catholics] are thought to have lost their ability to take Goa to the path of authentic progress”. The Catholics may remain in Goa, but every time they make a demand that challenges the assumptions of Hindu nationalism, they are charged as being anti-nationals. This can be seen in the response to the demands for the recognition of the Konkani language in the Roman script, as also the demand for state grants for primary education in English. Thus, even though Parrikar’s statement on the cultural essence of Goan Catholics may seem to embrace, it is in fact a reminder of the second class location of that community within the Goan polity.

Reinforcing clichés of the nationalist historiography of India
 

The assertion that the term ‘Hindu’ “is cultural” rather than “religious” privileges only a certain rigid notion of Hindu culture and way of life, while relegating anything that is not Hindu to a second class status; this of course also begs the questions as to which religion is not a prescription for a way of life? It also relegates everybody in India who is not of the ‘Semitic’ faiths into the category of ‘Hindu’ by default. Such co-option has been challenged in Jharkhand where a struggle is on to give official status to the local Sarna religion. Dr. Ram Dayal Munda, the former Vice-Chancellor of Ranchi University, has written in detail about how the Sarna faith differs in cosmology, myths, deities, rituals, priesthood, and other details, from Hinduism. Yet for many like Parrikar, non-Christian and non-Muslim Adivasis are ‘automatically’ Hindu. Kancha Ilaiah also discusses similar processes in his path-breaking book Why I am not a Hindu (1996). Ilaiah points out that for many children of subaltern communities even in the 20th century, the introduction to Hindu deities, epics, rituals, and other traditions happened only when they joined school, and the novelty was on par with learning Christian faith traditions.

Parrikar’s assertion that Hindus do not attack except in self-defence, i.e. they are a peaceful and tolerant people, is another myth that has been successfully contested by historians as well as scholars of contemporary caste society. That the Hindu nationalists play the card of perpetual victimization, as Parrikar does, when in reality it is the Dalits, Adivasis and many minority groups who are violently oppressed and abused by the caste nature of South Asian society, a society whose ethos, traditions and survival are now championed by Hindutva politics, is an old irony. As for peacefulness, Parrikar may never take up a sword to kill, but he is already neck-deep in a discourse that is violently casteist, racist, and – not to forget – Islamophobic. Furthermore, he does not have to personally pick up a sword because the Hindu right-wing has set up several proxy organizations that do the job, while political leaders like him either plead helplessness or remonstrate that such violence is not ‘true’ Hinduism.

A ‘Universal’ Church divided in itself
 

What Parrikar and others who think like him should acknowledge is that many of the converts to Christianity were from the subaltern communities. But it is also necessary to acknowledge that the Church hierarchy in Goa is not only dominated by upper-caste Catholics, but displays a tendency to discriminate against the subalterns in a manner similar to that of Hindu caste society. There are many examples of this, as when the demand for the Roman script of the Konkani language to be given official recognition in the state, which was made by subaltern-caste and -class Catholics, was opposed by the sections of the Catholic clergy. Ironically, many of those clergy members themselves use the Roman script on a daily basis. The discrimination against the subaltern Catholic groups is intensified by the tendency of the Hindu Bahujan Samaj to ally with the Hindu dominant castes. This tendency is most evident in the way the Saraswat-led Konkani language establishment allied with the Hindu Bahujan leadership to ensure that English language education at the primary school level was denied state grants; a move that the Catholic hierarchy acquiesced to. Grants were thus reserved for schools offering education in Marathi or official (Nagri) Konkani, a move which seriously hurt only poorer (and subaltern-caste) Catholic families, the wealthy being able to shift their wards to private schools where they could continue with an education in English.

Summing up
 

Goan Catholics are not Hindu. Most never were. The reality and history of Goa militate against the simplistic concepts offered by Parrikar. His understanding of universal Hinduness deliberately excludes the minorities while at the same time strait-jacketing and leveling any differences from the point of view of the dominant sections of the majority community. Such notions may appear to unite communities but in reality foster discrimination.

 (This post was written along with Albertina Alemida, Amita Kanekar,

Dale Luis Menezes, and R. Benedito Ferrãoand was first published on kafila.org on 16 Sept 2013.)

(A Konkani version of this text is also available )

Rough Notes: Attempting sight from the other side.

Some weeks ago, short on the heels of the election of the present set of legislators, a friend questioned what would be the implications of a BJP-ruled State. There are a number of responses that could be provided to this query, and one of them would be; ‘Who knows? As of now, it looks as if it is not a BJP-ruled state, but a Parrikar-ruled State.’

The claims being made for life under Parrikar, are nothing short of utopian. Take for example, the rather encouraging discussion, penned by a Veeresh Malik, of Parrikar’s ‘controversial’ reduction of the cost of petrol. Malik’s argument is that this decision by Parrikar, one that has been labeled populist by some, and fool-hardy by others, is in fact nothing short of laying the ground for the utopian in Goa, given that it “is a brilliant move to plug revenue leakage caused by smuggling petrol into Goa and by adulteration of petrol with kerosene; and the first step to improving transport services.” There is no space in this column to discuss Malik’s arguments, but they bear a good read, and perhaps evaluation by political-economists who are more capable of a serious evaluation, not just of Parrikar’s controversial action, but of Malik’s analysis as well. 

An earlier installment of this column, discussing the election campaigning, had suggested that there was a danger to this singular focus on Manohar Parrikar. The danger is that Parrikar ‘(T)he man is no longer addressed as just a man, but per force becomes… the target for the larger claims that are being made on his behalf.’ In other words, when Parrikar is discussed, the discussion is not about him, but his name is merely a platform for other discussions. The same caution holds good for the utopian expectations that are being pinned on the new Chief Minister, and perhaps the claims that are being made for him (if not by him). To promise, or to encourage utopia is a double-edged sword, since we cannot ever really reach this magical space, even as human progress is necessarily predicated on our striving for it. More practically, what very often happens is that when our utopian ambitions fail to materialize the golden boy of one moment, becomes the whipping boy and scape-goat for the next. A good dose of realism therefore, even as we strive toward these utopian goals would be very much in order.

To change track momentarily, but only marginally, a lesson learned in the course of shifting from being a student of law to that of anthropology, has been that rather than judge from predetermined positions of right and wrong, black and white, (as the lawyer is wont to do); one should be open to listening to what the people one is working with are saying. Rather than dismiss what they are saying, because it does not fit into our preconceived notions, the anthropologist must strive to make sense of what they are saying. This exercise, to be sure, requires some amount of interpretation, but at the end of the day, it requires us to carefully sift through popular discourse and listen for the sounds we have not been expecting to listen to. It was such an ethic that caused this column to make a turnaround with regard to the politics of the controversial representativecurrently from Santa Cruz, and then from Taleigão. The politics of Mr. Monserrate, that may appear offensive to some, are in fact the liberatory politics of others. We may not agree with it, in deed we may see problems in it, but we cannot deny the fact that his returning time-after-time to legislative power is indicative of the aspirations of a good amount of people. The democratic imperative does not require us to silently agree with the majority opinion; it does however require us to positively engage with it, compromising at times, countering at others, but always, as in the anthropological exercise, giving respect to the groups one is in conversation with.

This is not to suggest however, that this column will turn into another roll of fanfare for Mr. Parrikar. (pause for smile). What this column will however attempt to do; is to inquire what one is to make of the utopian (and other) responses to the helmsman-ship of Mr. Parrikar. In other words, is there another way of looking at the situation, that isn’t Jeremiad?

As many have already suggested, the victory romp of the BJP into the Goan Legislative Assembly should not necessarily be seen as a pro-BJP wave, but an anti-Congress wave. Let us take the statement beyond the obvious however and point out that perhaps this is more than just a motion against a particular party, but indeed against a particular kind of politics that amply marked the period of Congress rule in the state for the last five years.  Perhaps there is too great an awareness of the fact that regardless of its rhetoric, the BJP once in power, could fall victim to similar patterns of behavior. It is for this reason then, that there is this fervent acclamation of Parrikar. Given his personal credibility as an honest person, and an efficient administrator has never really been suspect, Parrikar can be very easily read, as indeed he is, as more than just a member of the BJP. He is being read as the harbinger of radical change in the Goan polity.

It is this demand for a difference that is perhaps the single-most interesting feature of these obsessions both for and against Parrikar. Clearly Parrikar has become the symbol of a desire for change, and is being presented with a wide variety of agendas that diverse segments of the population wish to see fulfilled.  There are equally other groups that are opposed to these agendas, or simply opposed to Parrikar (both as an individual and as representative of the agendas he stands for). These diverse opinions are finding voice and will necessarily battle it out in the public sphere. They will first acclaim Parrikar for the change that they hope he will bring. When he is unable to, or does not, or simply fails, for no fault of his own, but for larger systemic reasons, to meet up to their expectations, he will be bitterly criticized. This will launch another round of soul-searching, discussion, introspection. This kind of discussion, this public hankering for change, and the demand to see it realized can only be good, in terms that it will, for better or worse, ensure that there is no business-as-usual in our otherwise petty Goan republic. It will mean a public sphere alive with discussion, and charged, after that long winter of ideologically-poor, and opportunistically rich, politics. This much we can expect during the time of Parrikar as CM. And even if for this reason alone, it appears that his presence must be welcomed, like the bitter pill that purges the system of rot.

(A version of this post first appeared in the Gomantak Times dated 10 April 2012)

Lux in tenebris: Mathany Saldanha and the projects of his day

The loss of Mathany Saldanha is indeed a great loss for Goan civil society. By all accounts, Goa has lost a principled man of politics, one who rather than acting merely for a private or familial interest, had the larger interests of society at heart. In an age when ideology seems dead, it appears as if the death of Mathany Saldanha has taken away from us almost all hope of an ideologically driven politics. It is thus with heavy heart that we must mourn the death of Mathany Saldanha, who leaves us as it were in tenebris.

The death of this clearly inspirational figure must not however prevent us from asking questions about some of the decisions that he took in his long life as an activist. Two questions stand above all in my mind; the first, when it should be so obvious that ‘Special status’ for Goa is not going to resolve any of Goa’s problems, why did Mathany Saldanha commit so much passion for it? The second question that emerges is, why did Saldanha, rather than remain the principled independent, join forces with the BJP, not once, but twice?

A more cynical response to the second question is the one given when most marginalized figures join dominant power blocs. Starved of executive power for so long, they are willing to make compromise with even the devil to be able to get into power and convert into reality their vision for the space they represent.  When Mathany Saldanha has been lionized by so many as not one to compromise, this answer does not seem to hold much water. Perhaps a look at the life of the man would provide us with other possible answers.

If we look back into the life of Mathany Saldanha, and to the moment when as leader of the ramponcars’ agitation, he appeared on the stage as an activist to reckon with, we see that it was not merely formal equality that he was looking for, but internal equity.  This involvement was subsequently followed by his role in the Konkani language movement in the 1980’s, the Meta-Strips opposition of the 1990’s, and more recently the mass mobilization against the SEZs, one of the many movements that lent palpability to the call to arms to ‘Save Goa’. Finally was his support for the demand for ‘Special Status’, a demand that has gained much strength from the ‘Save Goa’ cry. What becomes obvious when we look at this long string of associations, is that these were not merely isolated events that he associated with, but part of a larger commitment to the issue of citizenship in Goa. This is to say, Mathany Saldanha was involved in a larger project of renegotiating the citizenship pact in Goa, the relationship between the Goan and the State (be it the regional level, or at the national); and the relationship between and among Goans.

Let us leave aside for a moment the fact that what exactly we mean by ‘Special Status’ has not as yet been clearly outlined in any public debate. All we have so far are emotive calls that assure us that things for Goa will be much better, that it will be saved in fact, by the acquisition of Special Status. What we do know however, is that the demand for Special Status is one that cannot simply be wished into existence, it requires an amendment to the Constitution of the country. To be sure,  this is merely an amendment, if the demand for Special Status is on par with the kinds of special status that have been granted to other territories within the country (though ‘ofcourse’ not including Kashmir). However, it should be emphasized that the Constitution is not merely a document containing administrative clauses that can be modified this way and that, depending on the mood of the moment. On the contrary, the Constitution is the singular document that embodies the kind of relationship that we enjoy with the State, and with each other, as individuals, and as communities.

If one keeps this equation in mind, then perhaps Mathany Saldanha’s association with the BJP begins to make sense. Perhaps the single most important project, at least in terms of citizenship, that the BJP was involved with when it was in power in the Centre between 1999 and 2004 was an attempt to renegotiate the State-citizen compact in Indian republic. The Constitution Review Commission, that was set up by the BJP-led NDA government in Feb 2000 was a signal part of this effort. The reason for the Commission was ostensibly ‘examine the experience of the past fifty years to better achieve the ideals enshrined in the Constitution’. The unilateral move by the NDA government raised a hue and cry across the country, not only for the manner in which this process was initiated, but because the government had failed to specify clearly what exactly were the issues that required changes in the Constitution. What was clearly hanging in the background were statements by the BJP’s ideological partners, the RSS and the VHP that have often called for changes in the Constitution to make it more representative of the Indian ethos.

Even though the NDA government assured its critics that it had no intention of tampering with the basic structure of the Constitution, one has to keep in mind, that such issues as secularism, that forms a part of the basic structure of the Constitution, are not terms frozen in stone, but open to interpretation. A good number of scholars of secularism, have pointed out, that the BJP is not against secularism, where the concept separates State from church (or religious bodies). What some segments of this body are opposed to are a secularism that recognizes that different communities are placed differently in society and require differential (while remaining equal) treatment. The term that they gave to this at the time, was ‘pseudo-secularism’. These segments would rather ignore the fact of real differences in society and treat unequal people, equally. Furthermore, what these groups would like to see is the enforcement of the secularist agenda along radically different lines. One, where the secular citizen is understood as the  upper-caste Hindutva subject, and all other 'communal' groups required to conform to such standards as would be comfortable to this upper-caste Hindutva subject. The presence of cultural difference then would not be tolerated, as is currently the case.

A review, or change in the Constitution, and in the citizenship relation of the people of India with each other, and the Indian State, are clearly a larger part of the BJP’s national agenda. Mathany Saldanha’s agenda, even if directed towards different, nore local, intentions, twined with this larger agenda. Indeed, from among the basket of arguments often forwarded when making the claim for 'Special Status', is the argument that Goa had no representation in the Constituent Assembly when the Constitution was being framed.It would have made sense therefore for him to lend his might (and it has to be recognized that it was he that was lending might to the BJP, and not necessarily the other way around) to the BJP. The question that we need to ask however, and one that I regret not being able to ask Mathany Saldanha directly, is;  is it worthwhile taking this risk? The risk is that, for the goal of gaining ‘Special Status’ within the Union, a remedy whose potential benefits have not yet been effectively ascertained, we may be aligning ourselves with a power that will use our power and voices, to effect larger changes. These changes, it must be recognized will not be in the larger interests of the Indian population, and will radically change the nature of the Indian citizenship compact.

Mathany Saldanha began his career with a commitment to internal equity, and it is my belief, that if he were to contemplate deeply the larger impacts of his commitments, whether to the BJP, or the demand for ‘Special Status’, he may have changed his mind. There are times, when our love blinds us. In this case, perhaps it was his love for Goa (and Goans) that blinded this Prince of Patriots to the larger implications of his move. We need not be guided by his possible errors however, but by the larger principles by which he led his life.

Mathany Saldanha, may you rest in peace.

(A version of this post was first published in the Gomantak Times 30 March 2012)

Grave violations: Looking beyond the obvious

In its reported response to the violations in Curchorem, the Archdiocese has rather appropriately advised restraint in expressing their “justified anger”.  We could quibble however, over the emotion that is being referenced. Should we be angry? Or should we be upset and hurt? Anger seems to suggest a certain right to retaliation, one that in this case we have been asked to necessarily restrain. Hurt on the other hand seems to be more appropriate since it suggests the vulnerability of the person who has been the victim of the attack, while opening up, in a rather Christian manner, the possibility for reconciliation, necessary to sustain the environment for happy coexistence in the State.

However, this column would not like to dwell on semantics, nor on an exploration of the appropriate emotional response open to a Catholic in this situation. What this column would rather do is explore the explanations that are being provided for the unhappy incident in Curchorem. The logical response has been that such actions could not possibly be the work of the BJP, therefore, it must be the handiwork of the Congress, smarting under the humiliation of their rejection at the polls. The deplorable actions in Curchorem, this strand of logic informs us, were an attempt to embarrass Mr. Manohar Parrikar, our Chief Minister, and send a warning to the electorate ‘be prepared for the mess that you have invited upon yourselves’.

This could be one explanation. However this should not limit the field of possibilities that we entertain. Any investigation, criminal or social, should ideally open itself up to all possibilities, even the improbable if it would like to ensure a clearer conceptualization of the subject. This is what this column will attempt. If commonsense tells us that the BJP would not engage in such an obviously ill-timed exploit, and therefore it must be the work of the Congress party, then this column will go on to contradict commonsense and suggest some counter-intuitive possibilities.

This exploration must begin however may suggesting that it would indeed be ridiculous to suggest Mr. Parrikar’s hand in the affair. The suggestion must come not because we know Mr. Parrikar is clever enough to not encourage such an action so soon after his election, but because we know, from personal and private estimations of Mr. Parrikar, that he would not stoop to such a possibility. Mr. Parrikar may have an ideological agenda rooted in the vision of the saffron organizations in the country, but it appears that this vision extends to the centrality of the Hindu as a citizen of this country, and a disciplining of the population to making them have a sense of civic consciousness. We can dispense then, with the thought of Mr. Parrikar being culpable.

We could also perhaps dispense with the possibility that the BJP, at an organizational level has had any hand in the actions in Curchorem. To be sure, one can suggest that the BJP orchestrated this entire event so as to show up the CM as a caring man, outraged by the incident and thus gain brownie points.  This possibility is too patently bizarre to contemplate, and if true, would be simply grotesque. If such be the case, we would as a society (not merely as Catholics and Muslims) have to really gird our loins for the storm that should come. For now, this seems unlikely.

There is a need however, for the popular imagination to make a distinction between the BJP as an organization, an electoral party that seeks to come to power on a certain agenda, with a vision that has definite supporters, and other right-wing Hindutva organizations. We often make the mistake of assuming that the BJP is representative of the big bad guy. This would perhaps, be a conceptual error. We have to recognize that with the successful rooting of the Hindutva ideology in the Indian polity there are many more players in the field than just the BJP.

Let us take the example of Pramod Muthalik’s Sri Ram Sene. We cannot forget the incident in 2009 where the Sene rose to national attention for beating-up women and men, for engaging in the un-Indian activity of women drinking in pubs. The question we need to ask is how far was the Ram Sene under the control (at an organizational level) of the BJP, or indeed even of the RSS? Similarly, let us take the examples of the bomb blasts that have been occurring all across the country, whether in Hyderabad, or Pune, or Malegaon, where the perpetrators have been (surprise, surprise) not Muslim fundamentalist groups, but Hindu fundamentalist (Hindutva) groups like the Abhinav Bharat. We could even look to occurrences in Goa where the works of Dr. Subodh Kerkar, celebrating the diversity of the Ganesh icon, was met with a violent response by the Hindu Janajagruthi Samiti. In a highly volatile, and politically competitive, environment, how obedient are these groups to the BJP or the RSS, even if they are linked, at some organizational, or ideological level?

In such a situation, could we postulate that these diverse saffron groups (and they are very active in Goa) have equated the BJP victory with the raising of the saffron flag over Goa, and are now flexing their muscles, assuming their protection by the BJP controlled governmental apparatus? Goa’s case is different (as we as a society are so fond of repeating) but in light of the State’s quiet acquiescence, both in Gujarat and in Karnataka, these groups would have good reason to believe that it is open season for minority hunting, and that the State machinery will not necessarily act on them. Curchorem is not a bad place to symbolically and effectively begin such hunting given the manner in which sectarian tensions have been systematically stoked in that little town.

In conclusion, it may very well be that the whole episode is, as word on the street goes, a Congress orchestrated incident to upset the new balance of power in the State. However, any good investigation would explore all possible options, and as was pointed out in an earlier column, we need to be aware that there is more to politics that elections, and that the diversity of political players is not exhausted by political parties, and that the contests in our country and our state are not exhausted by a simple binary exhausted in the Congress-BJP rivalry.

If indeed it turns out that the incident in Curchorem was the result of Hindutva groups, then the Parrikar government would have one more agenda clearly outlined on its plate; a stern controlling of these groups, an action that was not taken seriously in any form by the Kamat-led government. Given that the BJP has promised its actions to be contrary to those played out by the previous government, we know that we will see action on this front as well.

( A version of this post was first published in the Gomantak Times  14 March 2012)