Of wolves, sheep and wolves in sheep's clothing: The secular liberal in the emerging Hindu Raj

I was, apparently, not the only one to be perplexed by Jagdish Bhagwati’s denouncement of the insecurity expressed by Christians in India. This widespread bemusement should not come as a surprise; after all, Bhagwati did expend three of the eleven paragraphs of his article protesting his fides. He assures us that despite the crude manner in which he dismisses the concerns of a community that has faced not merely arson attacks against its religious structures and institutions, but rape, desecration, and belligerent rhetoric, his arguments are not antagonistic, or communal, but secular, and rational. This is because he comes from a “from a family that is impressively pro-Indian-minorities”, some of his dearest friends are non-Hindu, and he himself earned his basic degrees from a Christian institution.

Many who read his offensive dismissal, and call for strict action, wondered if Bhagwati had lost his marbles. After all, did not the argument “I have many left handed friends, hence I speak for left-handed people”, or “I’m not Islamophobic! Some of my best friends are Muslim!” run out of credibility in the 70s? I would argue, however, that Bhagwati’s protestations are not the sign of a feeble mind, nor of a man out of step with contemporary reality, but rather a strikingly clear indication of a variety of political equations in contemporary India. In this response, I would like to highlight and protest against Bhagwati’s callous attitude, as well as point to the manner in which his position is in fact indicative of the manner in which Nehurvian secularism is being bridged with Modi’s Hindtuva regime.

What is striking about the first of Bhagwati’s reasons for his secular location is the fact that he has placed his familial connections up front and centre. However, this is not an average family; Bhagwati has gone through some pain to demonstrate that his friends and family are all either extremely powerful, highly qualified professionals, or come from dominant caste groups. While Bhagwati would prefer that we focus on the fact that all of these individuals hail from different religions I would rather point to the fact of their location within networks of privilege. Marriage between people from elite backgrounds, no matter what their caste, or confessional backgrounds is not necessarily a mark of secularism in contemporary India. It is primarily a mark of the desire to maintain privilege. Marital liaisons across sectarian differences are the hallmark of dynastic marriages across the world, whether ancien régime Europe, pre or early modern India.

The fact that he chooses to highlight these marital connections demonstrates facts about how power was wielded, as well as how secularism was understood, in Nehruvian India. Power was structured dynastically. This meant that while the Nehru-Gandhi presided at the top, the pyramid of power was structured by a variety of families in alliance and allegiance to this family, while these families maintained the structure of power downwards, from Delhi toward every federating region in India. As Bhagwati demonstrates, it was not necessary that these alliances be rooted in marriage alone. On the contrary, one could also establish familial friendships. These friendships were often engendered through education in Christian institutions which introduced these native elites to a more universal language of privilege embodied in Euro-American, i.e. ‘Western’, forms. To enter into the structures of power of Nehruvian India, one had to belong either via blood, or through participation in culture. The sad truth, however, is that access to this culture, was possible largely through belonging to existing structures of privilege, most often belonging to a dominant caste.

Bhagwati’s articulation also demonstrates that the locus of secularism in Nehruvian India was these educated and ‘cultured’ elites. It was their practices that were assumed to embody secularism. The question was not of the fact of the entire gamut of their practices, but a selective reading of some of their practices. These practices included the fact of their marriages across caste and religion, their gustatory practices where they ate food at the home of privileged friends from other confessional groups, but especially Ashraf Muslims, and the affective links with Christian institutions that gave them the veneer of being Christianised.

On reading earlier opinions on the state of secularism and fascist violence in India, many have inquired of me, why instead of making strident condemnations of Prime Minister Modi I choose to “attack” secular liberals, and Nehruvian secularism. The logic for this critique is revealed in Bhagwati’s article given how his statements demonstrate the continuum between the apparently secular liberal, and the outright Hindu nationalist. Reflecting on the practice of Indian secularism, Paul Brass observed that there were many similarities in the way secular nationalists and Hindu nationalists crafted an Indian history: “first, that Indian history has displayed a striving for unity of the subcontinent and its peoples that has persisted through time; second, that unity must never again be compromised; third, that unity is essential to achieve India's rightful place in the world as a great power; fourth, that any threat to that unity must be squashed by the utmost force, should any group be recalcitrant enough to resist. In all these respects, secular and Hindu nationalists agree, as they do on the great goal that inspires it, namely, that of transforming India into a great, modern state.” So many of the elements outlined by Brass are so obviously present in Bhagwati’s text, not least in his assertion that there is a need to “forcefully” expose the apparently false claims made by Julio Ribeiro, as well as his plea to the latter to “join those of us who would like to see religious harmony, not the religious discord that can only subtract from our humanity.” This “humanity”, if of course best captured in the slogan so dear to Nehruvian secularism “unity in diversity”.

Underneath its façade of unity in diversity practiced by groups of elite families, Nehruvian secularism hid the fact that upper-caste Hindu culture was the de facto logic of Indian-ness. As long as things were hunky dory the façade remained in place. No sooner was non-Hindu difference asserted than the fangs were bared, the assertions dismissed and Hindu supremacy asserted. In his interesting study of the Doon School, Sanjay Srivastava calls this politics “Hindu contextualism”. Srivastava explains that Indian nationalism resolved the religious question—at least at the Doon School— through “the establishment of a supra-context which was Hindu” i.e. upper-caste Hindu. It was only within this context of “hierarchised encompassment” that religious pluralism was allowed. This hierarchy is evidenced in the manner in which Bhagwati references non-Hindu religious groups in India, in the condescending terms of “another minority much loved in India”. Condescension, it must be remembered, is only capable from a location of privilege and power. What Bhagwati seems to not realise is that majorities and minorities do not exist normally, but are actively constituted.

This distinction of citizens into majority and minorities is the legacy of the anti-colonial nationalist movement, but the condescension that allows Bhagwati to reference Christians and Sikhs as much loved minorities is a legacy of Nehruvian secularism. This patronising position also enables Bhagwati’s dismissal of Christian concerns when he says “So, if there was anything to the Christian fears today, I should be the first to join the protests. But the truth is that these fears are totally groundless and are, at best, a product of a fevered imagination.” Not only does Bhagwati dismiss the concerns raised by Christian groups, he also displaces their right to air their concerns by claiming that they need not speak at all, since given his location, he can speak just as effectively for them. His statements are a demonstration of the practices of Nehruvian secularism that continue, though in more frightening proportions, into Modi Hindutva.

Bhagwati’s text goes on to demonstrate that problems that both secular nationalists and Hindu nationalists have with Christians in India, namely conversion. One icon for this problematic relation with Christians in India is Mother Theresa who is celebrated as long as she offers service to the Republic of Dominant Caste Indians, and reviled if she asserts her desire to attract people to Christianity. It must be underlined that conversion is a problem largely because Hinduism is imagined as the defining marker of Indian-ness, and conversion to a religion deemed foreign is seen as the colonization of consciousness and the route to denationalisation. But Bhagwati’s fear goes beyond an apparently harmless ideological desire to maintain Hindu culture as dominant. His is also a fear of numbers indicated so clearly when he says, “In fact, [Hinduism] being a religion that does not normally convert, only a minuscule number of Hindus will do this [convert] whereas a far higher proportion of Christians and Muslims will.” In other words, not only are we back to the poppycock of a non-aggressive Hinduism, but also the majoritarian fears that Hindus will be reduced to a minority if Muslim and Christian groups are allowed to persist with their right to conversion.

It needs to be emphasized that fear is not restricted to Bhagwati and the largely upper-caste members of the Hindu Right alone, but was shared by Gandhi as well. It was to ensure that a Hindu majority was produced that he insisted against the provisions of the Ramsay Macdonald Award in August 1932 that granted separate electorates to minorities in the dominion of India. To impose his will, Gandhi went on a hunger strike that forced Dr. Ambedkar to agree that Untouchables abandon the demand for a separate electorate and be included as Hindus. In other words, Gandhi was responsible for producing India as a Hindu majority state, against the wishes of the untouchables.

Bhagwati imagines his trump card is the argument that if conversion is allowed for Christians and Muslims it must be allowed to Hindus as well. No person committed to an egalitarian legal regime would have any disagreement with such a proposition. What he does not seem to recognise, is that the Indian state, does not provide, and indeed, has almost never provided, a level playing ground for the freedom of religion. Where Hindu nationalism and its associated form of Hinduism are the privileged ideology and religion one must recognise that if there is any coercion involved with conversion, it comes into play when persons are forced to convert to Hinduism. Failing any state support, it is difficult to imagine coercion when persons choose to align with Christianity, Islam or Buddhism. Indeed, conversions to these latter faith practices are signs of protest against the brahmanical order that the Indian state upholds. Any shift away from Hinduism is filled with the threat of statal and extra-statal violence.

Bhagwati’s article may demonstrate the problems with Nehurvian secularism, but his assertion at this point in time also highlights the continuing, and growing, problems with the Indian republic. Additionally it also focuses attention on the manner in which these groups and families who formerly pledged allegiance to the Nehru-Gandhi family are now coalescing around the Sangh Parivar. This shift of elite groups towards the BJP should be read as a matter of great concern, given that it demonstrates how consent is being manufactured for the deeply troubling acts of the BJP regime both at the Centre, as well as in states where they hold sway.

This response to Bhagwati would not be complete without one final argument. It would be wrong and irresponsible to suggest that there is no difference between Nehruvian secularism and Modi’s Hindutva regime. The former allowed for a modicum of participation to dominant caste elites among minority groups, and the exercise of power was veiled. In the case of the Modi led state all pretence has been dropped, and the space for non-Hindu elites is also shrinking. This was perhaps abundantly clear with Julio Ribeiro’s recent cry of anguish. While Ribeiro’s cry does capture the sense many Christians in India feel, as was recently pointed out, it should also be seen as a cry from the tribe of elite Christians who had pledged their life in service to the Indian state. That Bhagwati fails to read this demand for continued inclusion but brushes it off as mischievous says a lot about the climate in the country.

(A version of this post was first published in DNA India on 1 April 2015)

Modi’s Verbal Politics Made Flesh

Prime Minister Narendra Modi was recently invited to be the chief guest at a national seminar on “Religious Witnessing” organized by the Syro-Malabar Church in New Delhi. The seminar was to mark the recent canonization of Kuriakose Elias Chavara and Mother Euphrasia. Modi’s comments at this event seem to have sent leaders and members of Christian groups, as well as secular liberals, into paroxysms of delight. This frenzy possibly has its roots in the unnerving stony silence that the Prime Minister’s Office maintained for months after the recent vandalisations and desecrations of churches in the national capital. This silence was a matter of concern for many and one can understand why the leaders of the Christian communities were relieved that Modi has finally taken initiative on the matter. The delight from various quarters has also been fuelled by the manner in which the media has framed Modi’s statements as a “reaching out” to Christians, and a commitment in favour of freedom of religion.

For my part, I fail to see what the excitement is all about. Not only were Modi’s statements at this event a case of too little, too late; they are also dangerously ambiguous. Rather than supporting non-Hindu religious groups (Christian or otherwise) in the country, his statements in fact underline the Hindutva logics that have resulted in the recent vandalisations and desecrations.

“We cannot accept violence against any religion on any pretext and I strongly condemn such violence. My government will act strongly in this regard,” Modi is reported to have said. So far, so good. But it is what comes later that should, if not give cause for alarm, warn us that the Prime Minister has not swerved from the path of the Hindu Right.

The other statements that we should give closer attention to include the folowing: “[m]y government will not allow any religious group, belonging to the majority or the minority, to incite hatred against others, overtly or covertly.” In addition, the Financial Times reported Modi as having said, “[m]y government will ensure that there is complete freedom of faith and that everyone has the undeniable right to retain or adopt the religion of his or her choice without coercion or undue influence.”

The devil, as they say, is in the detail, and it is this detail that I have italicised above. In phrasing his supposedly soothing words to the Christians in the country, Modi has also suggested that it is not just supposed majority groups that incite hatred against others but minoritised groups too! These are hardly the salving words one extends toward communities that have been at the receiving end of mob violence. Rather, it suggests that these groups may have done something to invite the violence. This position is, of course, in keeping with the position of the Hindu Right that argues that it is Hindus who are under attack, and that all forms of violence from the Hindu Right are merely the result of righteous anger. The VHP is reported to have said as much, indicating that Modi was not referring to the Hindu Right, but in fact delivering a lecture on the good behaviour expected from Christians in the country.

In light of these facts, one can assume that when Modi assures that “We will act strongly against such violence” what he is doing is in fact playing out the standard tactics of the Hindu Right. These tactics include the march toward an authoritarian state. Authoritarian states have a peculiar relationship with violence. They would ideally not like to exercise mob violence continuously, knowing full well that violence once unleashed can be hard to control. Further, the leaders of the violence could develop their own agenda and pose a challenge to the existing leadership. Thus, what they would like is to strategically exercise this violence, allowing it brief and controlled reign from time to time. The fact of past violence is used as a threat to repressed groups. One need only look at the playing out of the genocidal violence in Gujarat in 2002 to understand the first part of the equation that I have just elaborated. And it is not just Gujarat; one could argue that in India, mob violence does not simply happen, but occurs because the state allows for it to take place.

In the light of international outcry, and the Presidential rebuke from Obama the anti-Christian violence is now an embarrassment to the Modi regime. In this context, it is now perfectly comprehensible if heads will roll for the anti-Christian violence in Delhi. Also, bear in mind that this assertion of the intolerance of the state against violence will just as easily be turned toward members of besieged faith groups. This fact was in evidence both in the recent protests in Delhi, but also in 2008, when Christians in Mangalore protesting against attacks on their churches were arrested and attacked by the police.

That this assertion of an inclination toward law and order has little to do with securing the security of non-Hindu groups becomes evident in Modi’s statements about the freedom of religion. In assuring that he stands behind the right to freedom of religion, he also felt the need to add that there ought to be no coercion or undue influence in the course of adopting the religion of one’s choice. This latter caveat is critical, because coercion and undue influence is exactly what Hindu nationalists allege against both Christian and Muslim missionaries. Hindu nationalists of all stripes have since Independence used this allegation of coercion and undue influence as a way to place legal restrictions on the freedom of faith. As a result, the various Freedom of Religion legislations in India make conversions actions that can be monitored by the state executive. In doing so the Indian state makes a mockery of the right to freedom of religion. Modi has simply confirmed a repressive practice of the Indian state and is being applauded for it.

The final straw is the manner in which Modi chose to frame the entire incident. From the Hindustan Times we hear that his statements that supposedly assure Christians that their place in the country is secure were framed by Modi pointing out that “equal respect” for all faiths was an ancient Indian value that was also integral to the Constitution. “This principle of equal respect and treatment for all faiths has been a part of India’s ethos for thousands of years. And that is how it became integral to the Constitution of India. Our Constitution did not evolve in a vacuum. It has roots in the ancient cultural traditions of India.” 

What nobody seems to have realised is that Modi’s entire statement at this event was couched in references to Hindu scriptures and ‘Indian’ traditions alone. There was no recognition of the fact that the Constitution of India was in fact born via inspiration from universal modern values. The fact that equal respect and treatment is marked out as a feature of “Indian ethos” only underlines the Indian nationalist allegation that religious violence was brought into the subcontinent via the Christians and Muslims. Adding insult to injury is the fact that this history of the subcontinent is entirely fabricated. Historians, such as Romila Thapar, have indicated that rather than being an idyllic period, ancient India was marked by vicious religious violence between various brahmanical sects, and also between the Jain and Buddhist groups and brahmanical groups.

One can understand that Christian leaders, especially Bishops and their spokespersons, are obliged by protocol and a sense of caution to make polite noises in recognition of the Prime Minister’s statements. But let us be under no illusion. Modi’s words are not statements that assure security to non-Hindu religious groups in India. He has not moved an inch from the position of the Hindu rightist groups to which he owes his primary allegiance. If anything, his statements are another public relations exercise from camp Modi.  Further, the Christians are not the audience of this public relations exercise. Rather, they are merely the tools through which the international image conscious Modi government can indicate to the world that all is well in Hindu nationalist run India.

(A version of this post was first published in O Heraldo on 20 Feb 2015)

Rajdeep Sardesai, Caste and Secularism

Rather than presenting the news, Rajdeep Sardesai has very recently actually been in the news on two rather different occasions. The first occasion was when Sardesai got into a scuffle with some of Modi’s supporters when the Prime Minister was in New York. In the video war that followed, Sardesai was first seen as being beaten by the Hindu nationalist, then as having started the scuffle, and finally as having been forced to respond violently to the nationalist’s heckling. Regardless of the reasons for the scuffle, or its context, however, Sardesai almost instantly became the poster boy for Indian secular liberals across the world. Vociferous opponents of the BJP, Hindu nationalism and Modi, they cheered Sardesai and used the episode to reflect on the rowdy ways of Hindu nationalists.

The second occasion, however, saw the same Rajdeep Sardesai being booed for being casteist. His sin this time round was a tweet where he confessed to “Saraswat pride” at seeing two members of his Saraswat caste being included in the prime minister’s cabinet. In response to the outrage that rained on him, Sardesai sought to explain himself in an oped in the Hindustan Times, and subsequently in the Navhind Times. This only complicated matters further, since what could have been excused as a momentary lapse was now justified rather elaborately.

How does one explain this swing from being the archetypical secular liberal to unrepentant casteist in the space of a few months? The sad truth is that all too often what Sardesai demonstrated more recently is not an uncommon feature of the Indian secular liberal. 

Indian secular liberalism is based on caste and largely the ideological position of anglicised upper caste Indians. One need go no further to unearth this relationship between caste and secularism than to look at Nehru, the revered figure of Indian secularism. Often referred to as Pandit Nehru, where did this title of Pandit come from? Nehru was a graduate, but the title of Pandit came not from his graduation in Western education, nor from any knowledge of the Sanskrit texts. The title is one inherited from his caste location as a Kashmiri Pandit. Nehru may have been an unrepentant dismisser of Hindu religiosity, but that did not stop him from claiming his brahmin privilege and assume a right to leadership that supposedly came with his heritage.

Nehruvian secularism was the product not merely of one man, but a social milieu that gathered around Nehru and formed the core of the anti-imperial nationalist struggle. Referred to as the ‘nationalist class’ by Partha Chatterjee, this was a group that in some ways was secular. They were secular in the sense that they did not necessarily find their spouses within their natal caste groups, nor did they follow other traditional caste rules. They did not do so, largely because they did not have to. Theirs was an anglicised milieu and they had in fact formed a sub-caste, or jati, of their own. This was the group that controlled power in the Centre through the initial decades of Indian independence.

The fact of the matter is that group was composed of people like Pandit Nehru, anglicised segments of already dominant caste groups. The nationalist class was not averse to recruiting people and accommodating them in various governmental institutions. However, the route to this recruitment depended critically on the privileges available to dominant groups in India. This meant the ability to be educated in one of the “good” schools in India, gain a degree in Oxford, Cambridge, where one gained access to scions of these families. These options are technically open to all, and yet as is the reality of this country, were, and are available largely to privileged segments of dominant caste groups. Rajdeep Sardesai, with his dominant caste background, and his privileged education is a natural member of the nationalist class jati.

One would not appreciate how this nationalist class can be seen as a jati if one has the standard static notion of India and its culture. One has to recognise that like culture, caste is not static, but dynamic and constantly changing. Take, for example, the fact that the Gaud Saraswat caste that we today assume to be an ancient caste was in fact produced through a caste unity movement that commenced in the latter part of the nineteenth century. This caste movement gathered together various jati like Bardezkars, Bhanavlikars, Pednekars, Kudaldeshkars and Sasthikars on the one hand, and Smartha and Vaishnava sampraday on the other, to form one Gaud Saraswat caste. This movement took a good amount of effort and often ran counter to the wishes of the Swamis of the various sampraday, as well as orthodox elements within these jati. 
 
When upper castes like Sardesai refer to themselves as progressive, they are not necessarily referring to a tradition of egalitarianism, but rather to their caste histories where some radicals reading the need of the times stop following caste laws and began to westernise themselves. As Sardesai’s tweet and subsequent article demonstrate, none of this meant that they gave up caste. What happened was that caste was now masked under a superficial veneer of westernised behaviour, like eating meat, not fulfilling brahmanical Hindu religious rituals, crossing the waters. In other words, they merely produced new rules for their caste groups.

New jati, therefore, are constantly being born, and if the Gaud Saraswat caste was born in the context of creating opportunities in colonial Bombay, the nationalist class is a jati that was formed through the process of fighting off the British. The idea of a single nation was the idea of this jati and they had to fight off rival claims from the princes and other caste groups. These latter groups were more interested in maintaining spheres of influence. While the princes were dismissed through democratic rhetoric, the dominant castes from various regions were accommodated through the process of the linguistic reorganisation of States. This process allowed for the regional hegemony of these caste groups by recognising their dialects as the official languages of the states where they dominated, while the Nehruvian elite dominated the centre with their secular talk of “unity in diversity”.

Unity in Diversity, with Hinduism on top

The Indian nation is not an ancient primordial entity. It is a production of the Indian nationalists held together by the force of the post-colonial state of India and the logic of Hindutva. Given that the maintenance of the Indian nation was always under threat from the dominant castes of various regions, the nationalist class always existed in some tension with the regional dominant castes. As yet unfamiliar with the options that anglicisization could bring, these regional castes stuck to the regional identities that brought them power. If they cooperated together, it was because they recognised that Hindutva is what allows for dominant brahmanised castes to assert their dominance in the various Indian states. As such, as long as their assertions of caste, regional and religious identity did not challenge the integrity of the Indian state, these were always treated with some amount of condescension by the nationalist class. It was only if these regional groups got too strident in their assertions that the Indian state got nasty.

If one looks at the longer videos of Sardesai interviewing those who had come to support Modi in New York, one will recognise instantly the condescending manner in which Sardesai did not so much talk to these supporters, as much as he talked down to them. This is the condescension that the members of the nationalist class reserve for those that do not buy their version of secularism. Rather than see the assertions of caste, and religion as a way in which segments of the Indian population are trying to assert power, the secular liberal sees this as the product of dull minds who are unable to grasp the sublime truths and value of secularism. Indeed, Hindutva in its current form is  the political response of the non-anglicised regional dominant castes to the secularism of the largely Hindu Nehruvian elite. Had the Nehruvian secularists been honest about the fact that their version of secularism was itself limited by their social location, that it was also a casteist project, then perhaps the project of Indian secularism would have met with greater success.

The two episodes that got Rajdeep Sardesai in the news are not antithetical to each other. In fact, they are but two sides of the same coin.

(A Version of this post was first published in the O Herald on 2 Dec 2014)

Pointing a finger at secularists: A response to Teotonio de Souza

It is always a tragedy when an argument is misunderstood. Something of the sort seems to have happened when Teotonio de Souza, in his op-ed column in this paper (2September, 2014), mounted a critique of my denunciation of the Goa Government’s Sant Sohirobanath project.  The immediate concern was the government’s decision to rename the Government College of Pernem after the Sant. 

According to de Souza, I drew up a comparison between Sant Sohirobanath and St Francis Xavier to argue that Sant Sohirobanath served the saffronisation of Goan culture by the State in violation of constitutionally guaranteed secularism, while suggesting that the state’s administrative assistance in the exposition of the relics of St. Francis Xavier was, “well within the bounds of secular ethics.” In reality, I said no such thing.

My effort was to distinguish between the manner the state has unilaterally taken it on itself to pluck the Sant out of relative obscurity, while in the case of the Exposition, there is a non-statal body that actively organises the event and receives the state’s support in organising it, post factum. As a student of the manner in which states across the world deal with the challenge of secularism, I am well aware of the delicate balance that is involved every time the state steps in to intervene in religious affairs. As such, my argument was much more cautious than de Souza makes it out to be.

de Souza suggests among other things that I was “misusing” the figure of St. Francis Xavier and crafting an imaginary scenario possibly with the intention of stoking communal tensions. The truth, however, is that I did not produce the comparison with St. Xavier out of thin air, but within the very real context of the position of secularism in India and Goa. Hindu nationalists have systematically raised the cry of “minority appeasement” in the context of state support of non-Hindu institutions or events. Their loud clamouring against this support is then used to justify further patronage to Hindu institutions and events. Perhaps de Souza would have preferred had I pointed out that the services that the state of Goa offers to the Exposition is similar to the kind of service that it offers to the zatras, especially the more important ones, across the state. Indeed, in retrospect, I realise that I ought to have included these examples as well.

Nevertheless, the very fact, that I may have needed to also talk about Hindu feasts to justify my argument and thus make it sound secular, is illustrative of the burden under which non-Hindu and non-upper castes persons in this country labour when trying to secure space in the public sphere. Indeed, whenever minoritised groups raise arguments critical to establishing an egalitarian system, they are accused of engaging in identitarian politics, or, as de Souza phrases it, “not more than politics of culture”. It needs to be pointed out that the so-called identity politics is not merely about identities alone but in fact fundamentally about distributive justice.

Even though de Souza would have readers believe that I think the state’s association with the Exposition is “well within the bounds of secular ethics” -- I am not entirely sure that it is. It was because of my doubts about the nature of this association that I was so restrained in presenting the Exposition as an example. In very many ways, the State not only offers assistance to the Catholic ecclesiastical hierarchy in the organisation of the event, but also uses the event in many ways. In addition to the symbology of being one of the more significant patrons, the state government also exploits the Exposition for its value to the tourist industry, just as it has now begun to milk the bigger Goan temples for their interest to tourists. To make this argument is not to necessarily or unilaterally condemn the practice, but to highlight something uncomfortable in this arrangement. As the work of scholars such as Talal Asad demonstrates, such discomfort is an integral part of the problem of secularism. Our job is to see how we can enable the possible resolutions of the dilemmas that inevitably present themselves in the operation of this imperfect system.

In addition to accusing me of attempting “to put a wedge that could promote conflict between the Hindu and the Catholic communities” de Souza also claims that I am trying to “divide the Hindu community by presenting Sant Sohirobanath as a symbol of high Marathi culture, and not representative of the Bahujan Samaj.” Once again, he misunderstands and misrepresents my argument. There are already historical and contemporary divisions among those who call themselves Hindu. Postcolonial Goan history is the history of the assertion of the Bahujan samaj in Goa against the dominance of the Saraswat Brahmins. Further, I was not presenting the Sant as a symbol of high Marathi culture, but rather pointing to the manner in which the Sant is being co-opted to aid Saraswat, and brahmanical, hegemony in Goa. I was trying to draw attention to the point that there is no single strand of Marathi culture in Goa, but multiple strands. To this extent my aim is to make explore the varied dimensions of Marathi culture in Goa. Too often this culture is presented as a monolithic monster that Goans, and especially Catholics in Goa, should be afraid of. To be sure, crafting monolithic identities of Catholic and Hindu (as he does) does more to fuel communal tensions. These monolithic identities occlude the similar interests that bahujan of both faith traditions and impoverish political imagination.

Having addressed most of de Souza’s specific comments, it is now time to reflect on the overall thrust of his article. It is significant that de Souza did not take any position vis-à-vis the project at the heart of my discussion, viz. the renaming of the college after Sant Sohirobanath. His silence seems to imply approval of the project. This position would not be surprising given that de Souza generally speaks in the voice of the upper-caste secular nationalist. This is a voice that would prefer that discussions of caste-based oppression not be spoken about, prefers identities to be national and sees the nation as composed of monolithic religious groups who are ideally represented by upper-caste members of that faith tradition. When voices do speak up against the upper-caste Hindu biases of state governance, Indian secular nationalism dismisses it as identity politics, just as de Souza does my arguments. This dismissal is effected not only by Hindu nationalists, but also the dominant elites within these minoritised groups; the latter fearful that their privileges as representatives of the faith tradition will be challenged.

With this understanding of the operation of Indian secularism, de Souza’s position is not surprising. Learning from the recent past indicates that contemporary Goa needs to negotiate different ways to secure a secular environment, one that is honest about the fractures and systemic injustices in our society. Simply sweeping them under the carpet and celebrating the largely upper-caste bonhomie across religions alone is not going to work.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo dated 19 Sept 2014

I would like to acknowledge the useful comments of my colleagues in the Al Zulaij Collective. )