Learning from the Beef Ban

Ever since the government of Maharashtra imposed a complete ban on the slaughter of any kind of cattle there has been a huge hue and cry from diverse segments of the Indian population. Before we go any further, it needs to be pointed out that while the state of Maharashtra has gone a step further by banning the slaughter of any kind of cattle, there have been bans on the slaughter of cows in a variety of states, and in others there are restrictions and innocent looking regulations that make it difficult to slaughter cattle. If there is a problem, then the problem lies in the fact that rather than protesting the creeping Hindutva-isation of India, we have allowed matters to get to this state of affairs.

The first issue that we need to deal with is the issue of the sacrality of the body of the cow. Most people, upper-caste Hindu, or otherwise, offer up this belief as reason for the ban. ‘The cow is like a mother to us’, they argue. The standard response to this has been to suggest that while one is entitled to believe whatever one wishes, one does not have a right to impose this belief on the rest of the population.

In response to this argument some scholars have pointed out that this concern for the body of the cow is not some ancient belief, but in fact a belief that achieved prominence in the nineteenth century, in the course of nationalist mobilization.  While we are taught in school that the nationalist movement was a glorious struggle against British rule, more balanced historiography indicates to us that a good amount of the nationalist mobilization was in fact mobilization by upper-caste Hindus of lower-caste Hindus against non-Hindu religious groups, including the Muslims, Christians and Dalits.  

Christopher Pinney has done some really interesting work in demonstrating how the image of Durga as Mahishasuramardini, or the killer of the Asura Mahisha, manipulated what should have been a bull, into the image of a cow. Similarly, the image of the Asura, was made to look like that of Muslim or Dalit butchers, so as to appear as if they had killed the cow. He points out that even though the Asura and the Goddess are supposed to be in battle, there is blood only on the blade of the Asura. This allows for the interpretation that the Asura was in fact a butcher, had slaughtered a cow and that Durga was punishing them for this act of cow slaughter. In the discussion around this picture, we have a clear image of the politics of Hindutva: mobilize hatred against the Muslim, Dalit, or Christian, to ensure caste Hindu hegemony.

The hegemony works because the values that are being promoted are the values of the Hindu upper-caste. As so many works have already pointed out, the eating of beef was not anathema to a number of groups that would have identified themselves as Hindu. A number of middle, and lower caste groups would routinely eat beef, as it offers the cheapest source of protein to impoverished groups. What we see in the ban on the slaughter of cattle, therefore, is the extension of  State legality to caste-based legal principles. What we have is the rolling back of constitutional provisions of equality, to allow for the beliefs of dominant caste groups to rule the roost in India.

I bring up this aspect of extension of legality because another aspect of this ban on beef recently struck me. What the various states of India have ensured through this ban on beef also amounts to an infringement on the right to property. If one owns a cow, or breeds cows, either to feed oneself, or to gain profit through the sale of their meat, these laws are placing an unfair restriction on the practice of one’s business. Surely the sentiments of another, religious or otherwise, are no good reason to place a restriction on the business practice of another? The state of Maharashtra has gone a couple of steps further than most other states in India. By banning the slaughter of any kind of cattle, what they have done is effected what the legal system of the U.S. would call a taking. If one were to try to put this in terms of the Indian legal system, by preventing the logical use of one’s property, they have effectively acquired the same property. What they have done, is to make cattle wards of the state, and yet saddle the individual with the cost of maintaining this property. Given that the Modi regime has ridden to power on the basis of claiming to be pro-business, this scary way of disrespecting the right of private property is odd. However, given that the laws of Manu generally assert the right of upper-castes to the property of those beneath them, it appears that this ban on cattle slaughter is very much in keeping with the principles of Hindutva that guide the prime minister and the party he leads. In other words, the Modi regime’s suggestion of being business friendly is just a scam. It is nothing of the sort.

There is one last point that needs to be addressed before concluding this opinion. The Hindu Right has suggested that the slaughter of cattle is evidence of traits of cruelty in those who eat meat. This is a bizarre suggestion that must be actively contested. People who eat beef, do not do so because they are cruel. They do not slaughter animals for fun. They do so because they are in need of food. The need to feed oneself is a basic human need. Further, when people slaughter animals, they do not eat only the best portions of the meat. On the contrary, they have found ways to make sure every part of the animal’s body is used effectively, whether as food, or as some other product. What I found particularly interesting is that a good amount of the social media outrage was trained on the fact that they would not be able to enjoy a steak anymore. I found this outrage misplaced, and perhaps representative of elite tastes. My own experience of beef is of eating not just steak, but other parts of the animal, like the stomach, intestines, hoof, tongue, brain. There is a certain respect for the animal that is embodied in these practices consequent on slaughter. The suggestion that persons who eat meat gain pleasure from the slaughter of animals is a vicious lie that must be contested vigorously.

On the contrary, it can be suggested that if there is one group that is guilty of cruelty to animals, it is those who have urged this ban on cattle. In doing so, the Hindu Right has converted an animal that was slaughtered for food into a symbol of a culture war. Prior to the unreasonable drama that the Hindu Right has brought down upon us, the cow did not have any particular significance for those who eat beef. With this ban, however, groups are now encouraged to look at the cow as a route through which to express their disgust for the Hindu Right. This is a very cruel attention that they have brought upon this otherwise innocent animal. This just goes to show the depths of cruelty embodied in Hindutva.  Not only does it visit harm on human beings, and manipulate one group against the other, but it also draws innocent animals into its politics of hate.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo on 6 April 2015)

Reviewing Moda Goa: A story of how the choice of style makes a difference

Released early this year, Wendell Rodricks’ book Moda Goa: History and Style , a work that presents a history of Goan costume, clothing and accessories, has garnered a good amount of unstinted praise from the popular press.  This review will not however follow suit, but will attempt instead a more critical position on this work.

To begin with, one should recognize that in having consolidated the plethora of views on ‘Goan’ style and costume, Moda Goa has effectively created the foundation for a discreet line of study; style and costume in the areas around what has come to be called Goa. With the lavish images, and acknowledgement of sources, Rodricks provides future researchers with a starting point to commence their discussion of the themes that he attempts to consolidate. We should also acknowledge that unlike so many other books, a good number of the images in Moda Goa point to the identity of the individuals, who are otherwise unfairly left without mention. However, some credit for this democratic act should perhaps also be shared with Rajan Parrikar, given that these acknowledgements accompany Parrikar’s photographs in the book.

By popular accounts, Moda Goa would in fact live up to its promise, of presenting a narrative of History and Style. The book continues the grand tradition of understanding and writing about Goa that was first established by Goan public intellectuals in the late nineteenth -century. Toward that end, Rodricks must rightly be held to have joined that company, demonstrating also the continuity of intellectual traditions that Rodricks is heir to. The problem with this tradition however, is that it is one that is in severe need of updating in light of theories propounded by scholars working outside of the narrowly nationalist, orientalist and racist frameworks that marked nineteenth century scholarship. 

Rodricks’ work would have benefited immensely had he engaged with contemporary scholarship. Indeed, had he done so, it is more than likely that Rodricks would have crafted a remarkably different book. For example, Rodricks currently attempts an encyclopedic presentation of style and design, presenting a narrative of a linear history of Goan costumes, stretching from the prehistoric to the contemporary. The result is a work that is markedly thin in a number of areas, allowing him to suggest for example, it was the Emperor Ashoka’s Greek wife Helen who ‘set the style for Indian women who continue to drape their saris in much the same way even today’. While this may be a part of the story, failing to mention research that indicates the more contemporary origins of the story of the sari leaves us with the idea of a pristine garment that has come down to us. Contemporary research suggests that the contemporary Indian sari, along with the blouse and petticoat, was a Victorian era adaptation in nationalist Bengal, this model being popularized through Raja Ravi Varma’s wildly popular depictions of brahmanical goddesses. Another example is his suggestion that ‘The Muslims who traded with Goa after the Inquisition was lifted wore traditional fez caps’  challenging the suggestion from scholarship that the fez gained popularity in the sub-continent around the time of the Khilafat movement, the deliberate adoption of a fez cap being a mark of solidarity with the deposed Ottoman Sultan-Caliph. It is possible that, given the general disregard for the nuances of sub continental histories outside of British-India, Rodricks is in fact overturning established scholarship through reading the largely ignored Indo-Portuguese archive. However his failure in following standard academic norms of citations prevent us from ascertaining if this is the case, or if Rodricks is simply extending commonsense back into time.

Engagement with this body of research would also have ensured that at the very least Rodricks would have problematized the linear history he makes use of. Linear history is eminently suited to nationalist agendas that see the culmination of history in the idea citizen for the nation. Once this ideal citizen has been identified all else is held of dubious value. Given that the ideal citizen for the Indian nation is largely imagined as the upper-caste Hindu, the history that Rodricks crafts is an upper-caste history that often runs counter to the evidence that he himself provides. Thus for example, the departure of groups from Portuguese controlled Goa, was not necessarily that of Goans, but often of upper caste groups, especially those who had already, prior to the arrival of the Portuguese, established themselves as a dominant group along the length of the West coast. Further, the presence of the (Mangalorean) Catholics in Kanara was not merely the result of Goan Catholics fleeing Inquisitional terror, as Rodricks suggests, but also the result of combined factors of peasant abandonment of villages when faced with excessive taxes from the Portuguese State, and Maratha incursions into the same territory. It is not as if this fact is not recognized by Rodricks, but so great is his verve in telling a nationalist mythology that he fails to make this, and other facts, cohere with the larger narrative he weaves.

As a further result of following these nineteenth century patterns of historiography, and having marked the (upper-caste) Hindu as the central pole, the entry of Aryans into the subcontinent is clearly specified as not an invasion, but an arrival (though to be fair, this early clarification does not translate into consistency, given that the Aryans are saddled with invasion later in the text). Such a clarification however, is not in evidence in the case of the Persianised adventurers and dynasts in the subcontinent, who are simply brushed off as ‘the Muslims’. It is perhaps this dismissal, where he fails to distinguish between the Mughals, and the Deccan Sultanates that is the reason for the plethora of gross historical errors. Take for example the suggestion that  the Vijayanagara empire fell to the ‘merciless Tipu Sultan’, when it was in fact the Wodeyar dynasty that was effectively displaced around 1761 by Hyder Ali, the father of Tipu Sultan, whose throne Tipu inherited. The Vijayanagara polity fell much earlier, subsequent to the battle of Talikota in 1565. With this dismissal, and the following the nationalist common-sense of ancient Goa as a brahmanical seat, Rodricks misses the opportunity to engage in more nuanced understandings of the Islamicate impact on the evolution of Goan dresses, such as the pano baju and the cabai, that he discusses. Indeed, almost completely missing from the 'history' that Rodricks produces, is reference to the Deccan Sultanates, especially the Sultanate of Bjiapur that played a significant role, culturally as well as politically, in the development of the Goan aesthetic. All we have in the book are references to the Delhi Sultanates of the Tughlaks and the Khiljis; and subsequently the Mughals.

Finally, as a result of falling into the nationalist trap of seeing invaders as largely having a negative influence, and, especially in the case of the Portuguese, seeing their influence largely as a rupture from what ought to have been, Rodricks is forced to makes uncomfortable suggestions. Take for example the suggestion that “The Kunbis who were converted to Christianity by the Portuguese were forced to wear a blouse.” Rodricks would have done well to reference the literature that discusses the extensive battles that depressed groups in other parts of the subcontinent (one good example being Kerala) where women had to fight against upper-caste oppression, for the right (to cover their breasts) that the Portuguese state required by law. This is just one of the many places where one wishes that Rodricks’ otherwise detailed work had benefited from deeper reading to provide a more layered, nuanced, and perhaps responsible text. Devoid of an understanding of the power relations that mesh with costume practice, at times there is the danger that this book will slip into a mere coffee-table picture book recounting mythology, not history.

Perhaps most disappointing in the book, is that as a result of making this choice to present to us an encyclopedic narrative of Goan history, and choosing the nationalist frame in which to cast it, Rodricks spends more time on the ancient, medieval and early modern periods of history. As a result, he barely spends much time on the more exciting, and chronologically nearer period of the twentieth century. One would assume that as a trained stylist, conversant if not in active dialogue with the styles of the recent past, this would be Rodricks' area of expertise, one where he would be able to shine through. Furthermore, with the liberation of the Goan underclasses from feudal dependence, as they moved abroad, bringing up money and differing fashion sensibilities, a great many changes were introduced into society. This period is thus hugely interesting. How did these fashions create different ways of being? These are some questions that could have been asked and answered, a route that Rodricks unfortunately does not take. In a similar vein, some of the more interesting stories from the present remain untold. In his final chapter, Rodricks mentions the challenges and potential for a fashion industry in Goa, but fails to mention his own challenges as he made his, at the time laughed at, leap into setting up base in Goa. Some attempt at this is made in the stand-alone piece by Meher Castelino but it lacks the involvement of Rodricks' first hand telling, and given his elegant voice, mores the pity. 

However, to gain a comprehensive sense of the value of the book, we need to ask why it is that Rodricks is attempting this linear history? In this question lies the redemption of Rodricks’ attempt, which can be seen as the effort of the Goan Catholic to find and make space for himself within the largely upper-caste Hindu narrative for Goa and India set in place by nineteenth century intellectuals. In doing so, Rodricks has chosen one of two options, to negotiate space for himself, and others like him, according to the norms that have been laid down by the dominant forces within India and Goa; rather than fighting for a more democratic and open telling of a Goan history.  Rodricks is not the only Goan Catholic to go down this road, we need only refer to the review of Moda Goa by Maria Aurora Couto in the Outlook, to see that this affirmation of the Indian-ness of the Goan, as well as the space for the Goan Catholic within India is uppermost on her mind. Take for example, the deep concern for the Goan image, one that is born from a shame that most Goans feel when Goa is represented merely as a pleasure periphery with no valid 'culture', that is in evidence when Rodricks speaks of his interventions with the Kunbi sair; "if Gujarat can have its Patola and Maharashtra its Paithani, Goa too can proudly present its Kunbi sari in a new designer avatar." While we cannot therefore, fault Rodricks for his choice, we can nevertheless lament the fact that the fine voice that he possesses did not choose what could have proven to be, the more historic option.

(A version of this post was first published in the Gomantak Times dtd 18 July 2012)