Portuguese citizenship and the debugging of Indian imaginations

I read with interest the recent opinion piece “The Portuguese nationality bug”  on the vexed issue of the rights of Portuguese Indians to Portuguese citizenship and was disappointed by the author’s refusal to see the larger picture. I suspect that this is because the author seeks to resolve the question within the narrow frames of Indian nationalism. As a result, the argument forwarded in the op-ed seems to buttress the rights of the state over those of citizens. Such legality will only strengthen the growing authoritarianism of the Indian state over subjects who, while formally citizens, increasingly lack the space to realize this condition.

In the opinion piece citizenship is presented as a status that is conferred by a state. This is not only a peculiarly lawyerly perspective but also a dated idea. Unsurprisingly, the argument refers to a judgment of the US Supreme Court from 1875. The wider field of contemporary citizenship theory recognizes that citizenship is more than a status, rather a condition to be realized. In these more recent understandings, as evidenced in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) for example, rights are not conferred by a state, but inhere in the individual. Even the Indian Constitution recognizes that it is the people who constitute the state as evidenced in the famous lines of the preamble “We the People of India….” Thus, a post-colonial political theory recognizes that states are actually constituted by the people, which formally recognize the rights of people. With the passage of time as our appreciation of the depths of rights grows, states are required to recognize these evolving rights. Indeed, this was very much the case with India as well when from about the 1950s the existing fundamental rights were dramatically expanded through the interpretations offered by the Supreme Court.

Of the many rights that inhere in individuals, surely the right of citizenship is the most fundamental.If there was one single right that the anti-colonial nationalist movements fought for, it was the right of citizenship. As in the case of British India, the initial demand was for the right to imperial citizenship, and it was only because the British, hobbled by a racist imagination, failed to recognize this right, that the Indian nationalists pressed forward for a national citizenship.

Citizenship must necessarily be distinguished from nationality. These are two distinct concepts and must theoretically be kept separate. While citizenship involves a gamut of rights that allow one to be a political subject, nationality is the status of belonging that the nation confers on some individuals, and restricts from others. This is to say, the first deals with rights, while the second is the realm of cultural belonging. One of the reasons why the debate on the Portuguese Indian rights to Portuguese citizenship is so vexed is because the various parties fail to recognize the fundamental differences between these two concepts. This is obvious even in the opinion piece where there is a constant switch between the terms nationality and citizenship as if they were the same.

This failure is not surprising given that the nation-state form that has been taken up across the world purposely seeks to conflate the concept of the state and the nation. The famous philosopher Hannah Arendt refers to this as “the transformation of the state from an instrument of the law into an instrument of the nation”. Taking up this idea, other scholars have pointed out that “It was this conquest that defined citizens of the state as nationals whether defined racially, ethically, culturally or even religiously”. There is, in fact, no good reason for the two concepts to be conflated. A state can compromise multiple nations, while nations need not have a state. Take the case of Belgium, which is composed of people that identify with two different nationalities, the Flemish and the Walloon. Or take India, which can be said to comprise different nationalities, but refuses to recognize, and in principle rightly so, that each of these nations needs its own state. Indeed, the foundation of the contemporary international order as an association of nation-states can be traced back precisely to the racist imaginations of the colonial order. To this extent, the assertions of Portuguese Indians to retaining their Portuguese citizenship while also accepting that of India stands to offer the world a model in terms of post-colonial citizenship precisely because it is born of an early modern experience that differs dramatically from the colonial experience rooted in late-modernity.

What does come out in striking clarity from the argument in the opinion piece referred to above is the legal position of the former citizens of Portuguese India in the Indian republic. In addition to the legal formulation that the argument the op-ed relies on, and the military action of 1961, this population is not a liberated population able to act on equal footing with other individuals from British India, but in fact a subjugated population whose “rights” depend on what the State of India grants them. The noted philosopher Partha Chatterjee has recently articulated a concept of political society that addresses precisely this point. He argues that not all who are formally recognized as citizens enjoy rights. Chatterjee suggests that these people are members not of civil society, but political society. Members of political society do not enjoy rights, which are permanent and inhere in the individual; they are merely extended temporary concessions when these excluded groups challenge the status quo. Once the status quo is secure these concessions can and often are revoked.

Reading the argument in “The Portuguese nationality bug” in the context of this framework, given that the citizenship rights of Portuguese Indians seem to depend on the whims of the Indian state, one can see that what the Portuguese Indians enjoy are not rights that inhere in the individual and are not granted by the state, but merely temporary privileges that can be, and are, rolled back when the State feels like. The privilege of Indian nationality was extended to these groups when the Indian state needed to consolidate its hold over the newly conquered territories creating the mirage of extension of citizenship when in fact the recognition of their pre-existing rights is what would have constituted acceptance into Indian civil society.  It needs to be noted that this is not the position of the Portuguese state that recognizes the continuing rights of citizens in territories over which it formerly claimed sovereignty.

The argument also fails to appreciate the federal nature of the Indian Union, a vision that is embodied in the Constitution. The Indian constitution patently allows for a diversity of legal regimes within the Indian Union. Take, for instance, Art. 370 of the Constitution that allows for Kashmir to have its own constitution. This particular article is the subject of much vituperation but the fact is that such resentment against Art. 370 has been the result of Hindu nationalist opposition. Ironically it is Hindu nationalism which is contrary to the constitutional mandate. Art. 370 must therefore be seen as embodying the basic structure of the Indian constitution that makes space for a federal structure that incorporates widely different polities within a single structure. Consider also the fact that Buddhist monks and nuns in Sikkim get a double vote to ensure the representative of the Sangha in the legislature. This argument for legal pluralism can also be buttressed by reference to the reports on the conclusion of the Indian state’s negotiations with the Naga activists. Though the terms of the agreement are still secret, if a dubious news report is to be believed it appears that the Indian state, under Prime Minister Modi, has agreed to the Naga demand for a separate Constitution, as well as a separate flag. Such an agreement, if true, would testify to the capacity of the Indian Union to accommodate legal difference within a single federal structure.

A resolution of the question of the Portuguese citizenship of denizens of the former Portuguese India could contribute to the failing health of the Indian Union. It would allow an assertion of the dignity of the rights-bearing individual in opposition to asserting the right of a potentially tyrannical Indian state. It would contribute to the constitutional imagination of a federal India, an imagination that has unfortunately been undermined by the desires of Hindu nationalists and successive central governments.

For too long a time the question regarding the legitimacy of Portuguese Indians holding on to both Portuguese and Indian citizenship is being debated in a dry and inspired manner. Given that the question is admittedly complex, the resolution cannot be obtained through a niggardly attention to the letter of the law. Rather, what is required is a reference not merely to the spirit that animates laws, but to the larger questions of postcolonial justice and the rights of individuals, this is to say a reference to political theory and the philosophy of law. What is required is not a debugging of Portuguese nationality, but Indian imaginations.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo dated 4 Oct 2016)

The naked truth: Kejriwal’s non-secular politics

“Tarun Sagarji Maharaj is a very revered saint, not just for Jains but everyone. Those showing disrespect is unfortunate and should stop.” Aam Aadmi Party’s chief Arvind Kejriwal recently tweeted allegedly in response to music composer Vishal Dadlani’s suggestion that the Jain monk’s address to the Haryana Legislative Assembly was “monkery”.

There is one matter that needs to be addressed before moving on to the problem with Kejriwal’s tweet; the manner in which Tarun Sagar’s nudity has been the object of much ridicule, horror and debate. For those who remember, Goans had their own opportunity to deride the Digambara Jain monastic practice where monks do not wear clothing. This was in April 2015 when Digambar Kamat participated in a procession led by another Digambara Jain monk, Pranam Sagar Maharaj, through the city of Margao. Not only was Pranam Sagar the object of much hilarity, but this derision was extended to Digambar Kamat, even as there were attempts to initiate legal proceedings against the monk for obscenity.

As was rightly pointed out by the spokespersons for the Jain community at the time, it was the unfamiliarity with Jain practices that led to the complete disbelief among large segments of the Goan population. However, despite learning that some Jain monks do give up clothing in their practice of austerity, there were still a number of Goans who were not mollified. Their reaction was similar to that of some in Goa who felt that Tarun Sagar too was engaging in an obscenity and ought to be prosecuted for such act.

Both Tarun Sagar and Pranam Sagar are engaged in a practice that, in the final analysis, is not in fact hurting anyone. Just as in the case of the outrage people feel when women or men are dressed in a manner that they feel is inappropriate, if one is offended by their nudity, one need simply turn away. Of course, that both the monks were in public spaces raises the issue of how we, in a country with such a diversity of social practices, are to share public space. However, this is a matter that needs to be addressed through nuanced debate, rather than resolved through police action. At the end, this use of state violence is a fascist resolution to complex social challenges.

I was, therefore, mystified when people raised Tarun Sagar’s nudity when they responded to his sermon in the Haryana legislative assembly. If reports are true, his being dressed would not have made his address any less problematic. Sagar suggested the need for state legislations to be subservient to dharma (i.e. brahmanical morality), just as he suggested that wives ought to be disciplined by their husbands. While actively promoting hatred for Pakistan, Sagar also continued the tradition of making brahmanical sensibilities with regard to the river Ganges a guide for state policy.  Kejriwal’s tweet could have addressed Dadlani’s tweet by making the case for a respect for social practices – such a monastic austerity – while also problematizing the content of Tarun Sagar’s address. It should be mentioned that not everything Sagar expounded on was problematic. For example, he did condemn the practice of female foeticide, and the presence of criminals in politics. There was every opportunity for Kejriwal to show that he was serious about creating a political environment where we can have nuanced debate. He opted to sidestep the problematic content, however, and only express his devotion to the monk.

It is this aspect of Kejriwal’s politics that is deeply disturbing and suggests that he may not be the resolution of our political problems that he presents himself as. Indeed, through many of his actions, including his response to Dadlani, he demonstrates that he is part of the Hindutva continuum. 

Kejriwal’s affinity with Hindutva was first on display when the anti-corruption rallies he organized along with Anna Hazare and Baba Ramdev, both proponents of Hindutva, featured Hindu nationalist images of Bharat Mata. Subsequently, there was Kejriwal’s decision to attend the World Culture Festival organized by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar’s Art of Living movement earlier this year despite the fact that the festival was being organized in contravention of existing guidelines. Not only did Kejriwal attend this event but, while appearing in his capacity as Chief Minister of Delhi, also played the role of a devotee of the god man just as he did in the case of his tweets in defence of Tarun Sagar. In the case of the latter not only did he indicate that Sagar was revered by many, but demonstrated his personal devotion to the man by adding in a subsequent tweet that “I met Shri Tarun Sagarji Maharaj last year. Our family regularly listens to his discourses on TV. We deeply respect him and his thoughts.”

As I argued in an earlier column, Kejriwal violates principles of secularism by actively bringing in Hindu imagery into politics (I recognize that Tarun Sagar is a Jain, but there is not the space here to elaborate how some aspects of contemporary Jainism work with Hindutva). In this latest action, Kejriwal demonstrates that he is no different from other politicians to the extent that he is willing to be populist to remain in power. He consistently participates in Hindutva politics by portraying himself as a devotee of godmen in the Hindu spectrum, and clearly sees no problem with the same. There was not a whisper about Tarun Sagar’s problematic comments, including the suggestion that dharma must guide secular legislation.

In such a case, it turns out the Kejriwal may be no different from other politicians that we are subject to. In the previous assembly elections, many Goans voted for the BJP because they thought they were voting against corruption. In the upcoming elections, AAP is asking Goans to vote for them for a similar reason. Goans should avoid falling for a limited agenda that focused on corruption and a narrowly constructed idea of good governance and realize that what is at stake in Goa is not some narrowly constructed economic corruption, but in fact a commitment to secular values. One should beware the Greeks (in this case, the Delhi-based leadership of AAP) who come bearing gifts. If we don’t, our Troy will surely fall.

(First published in the O Heraldo dated 6 Sept 2016)

The Goan language problem and its resolution

There were a wide variety of responses to the State Legislative Assembly’s resolution on the twelfth of this month to grant official language status to Marathi. As can be imagined, in addition to the delight of Marathi language activists, for whom the explicit status of official language for Marathi has been a matter of principle, there were loud cries of dismay and protest from those for whom Konkani is the only vernacular tongue they consider their own.

In their anger these self-confessed Konkani lovers rejected the idea that Marathi has any Goan history while claiming that Konkani alone is the language of Goa, and that Marathi has ample opportunity to be patronized in Maharashtra.

I believe that this position is a grievous mistake. The fact is that Marathi has a long and legitimate Goan history.  Marathi was an official language when the Portuguese were around. In his book Goan Society in Transition (1975) Bento Graciano D’Souza haw drawn attention to the fact that the Boletim do Governo do Estado da India, i.e. the Gazette of the Portuguese State, used Marathi to communicate with its citizens since the late 1800s. It is also a fact that Marathi was used by the Adil Shahi sultanate, whose territories eventually came to comprise parts of the New Conquests. In Primary Education in Portuguese Goa (2013), Ricardo Cabral highlights that the Portuguese State also backed Marathi-medium government schools in Goa. Scope for the first Marathi Primary school in Panjim was established through a Portaria dated 8 Aug 1843, and by 1847-48 there were five schools in the Marathi language.

Marathi, therefore, does have a historic presence in Goa, and it would be silly to discount patent historical facts. If these Marathi language schools were able to ensure the education of the dominant castes in the New Conquests, it also ensured the education of the upper ranks of the bahujan groups. These bahujan groups deepened their emotional bond with Marathi when they used this language to counter the hegemony that the Saraswat Brahmins attempted to assert, in both late colonial and especially post-colonial Goa, through Nagari Konkani. It is in part this more recent history that has resulted in the insistence that Marathi be officially recognized as an official language, despite the fact that it has effectively been an official language since the enforcement of the Official Language Act, 1987.

However, it should be stressed that these angry responses are not without reason. No matter the history, the recognition of Marathi as an official language will not be without consequence. In the course of my doctoral research a couple of Romi Konkani activists explained to me that the recognition of Marathi as official language would impact on government recruitment. While knowledge of Konkani is today essential for recruitment to a Government post, they explained, Marathi is optional. A recognition of Marathi as an official language would require the knowledge of both Marathi and Konkani, or ensure that those with knowledge of both languages would be preferred for governmental positions. What this means is that Catholic aspirants will essentially lose out in the recruitment process, further marginalizing Catholic groups, and especially the bahujans among these groups.

Seen in this light, the opposition to Marathi is not necessarily a blind opposition but largely the response from marginalized groups fearful for their continued existence. One way to redress this fear would have been along the lines articulated by Dale Luis Menezes in a recent post on social media. As he said, “if justice has to be done, it is not by recognizing Marathi as official but Romi as official first. This is not to say that Marathi shouldn't be recognized, but first it has to be Romi Konkani. Otherwise the Marathi movement, which had anti-caste [and] pro-Bahujan leanings at its start [but] has since now been increasingly reproducing Hindu majoritarian politics, through Marathi mobilization will only lead to more Hindutva.” In formulating the argument in this manner, Menezes hits the nail on the head. As much as Marathi has been associated with bahujan politics, it has, and is, also associated with Hindutva politics. What should also be noted is that with the full recognition of Marathi, we would have a situation where the high (Marathi) and low (Konkani) languages of Hindus in the state are recognized, but those of Catholics and other groups are not. As such, only a simultaneous recognition of Romi Konkani along with Marathi would ensure a state in which justice is meted out to the various groups that call the territory its home.

However, there is also a need to point out the ridiculousness of the propositions that are determining this entire politics. No territory is the home to just one language. Such formulations emerged from antiquated ideas of the Romantic movement and have led to way too many wars and conflicts to be the basis for serious state building. The linguistic reorganization of states of the young state of India in 1956 drew from these problematic and racist politics. What we need is a politics that moves outside of the faulty frame of linguistic homelands and recognizes that the duty of the state is to speak to all of its citizens, in the languages they understand. After all, if the much criticized, if unfairly so, Portuguese state way back in the XIX century could speak to its citizens in languages other than Portuguese, what prevents the Indian state in Goa from doing so in the XXI century with all the technological capacities at its disposal?

Speaking of Portuguese, Pratapsingh Rane, the elder statesperson of the territory, made an interesting intervention in the ongoing debate on languages in our territory.  He is reported to have stated in the assembly that “We should have no problem with any language. I learnt Portuguese because our own documents are in Portuguese,” further adding a critical point that I too made some years ago, “If you want to know the history of what happened in past, you should know this language also.” Indeed, in the coming years the failure to inculcate a knowledge of the Portuguese language in a broader segment of the Goan population will lead to a crisis in both historiography and legal interpretation.

In the recent past there has been much talk about cross-religious bahujan unity. In the spirit of such unity we should welcome the recognition of Marathi as a language. However, such calls for unity cannot be a one-way street. As such, the failure of pro-Marathi activists to also demand the inclusion of Romi Konkani is rightly seen as pushing a Hindutva agenda. It would be useful if we moved away from these narrow linguistic politics to push for an agenda where the State recognizes as official all of the languages that have had a presence in Goa’s recent history.

(A version of this post was first published in the O Heraldo dated 19 Aug 2016)

Eulogy for my father

How sweet a thing is a Christian death.

Once the fact of my father José Manuel’s sudden passing had somewhat sunk into my mind I recollect suddenly smiling to myself. As Christians we are taught that death is only a pause in eternal life. That our loved ones are now among the angels before the very throne of God and that this is a much better location than the one we occupy today. 

This was only one of the teachings that made me smile. The other was the sudden recognition that even though we grieve the physical absence of our loved ones, we also know that on death we are freed from our mortal shells. As such, the departed are also perpetually with us, perhaps closer to us than they were in real life, and always assisting us in our prayers. I have often found these teachings somewhat abstract and it was only with my father’s passing that I realized it emotionally. My father will always be with me, with us, from this moment on. As such, especially given the peaceful manner of his death, this is truly a moment of rejoicing and an occasion to give thanks to God.

You may consider it odd that I choose to open the eulogy of my father with a somewhat catechetical contemplation on Christian death. I am emboldened to do so because the faith meant everything to my father. He was not only raised in the faith by his own parents, the late Manuelinho Tomas Aquino Fernandes and Armina dos Remedios e Fernandes, but he raised us, his sons, in the same faith, providing a model not only through his words, but also in the way he lived his life. Indeed, if his life was marked by anything, it was a solid proximity to the sacraments and the desire to incarnate a Christian life.

Those who know him well will testify to his attempt to be present at the celebration of the Mass every day. He passed on this deep respect for the Mass by teaching all three of his sons how to serve at the altar. This is a kind of intimacy that cannot be explained but is borne out by the fact that in this profoundly secularizing world his sons are more than just ritual Catholics.

In his marriage he could be stubborn and headstrong, but along with his wife, our mother Philomena, he gave witness to a Christian marriage. Their marriage may not have been made in Hollywood, but it was definitely made in heaven. They would often argue, even scream at each other, often to our despair. And yet! And yet, the complete loyalty to each other is something to emulate. The life of my father was one that was filled with trials and tribulations. Through them all, my mother stood by him through thick and thin. He on the other hand demonstrated his loyalty and commitment, and his care, as was his wont, in simple, yet profound ways. I remember, for example, a pilgrimage our family made to the shrine of Nossa Senhora de Montserrat, just outside of Barcelona. We stayed an entire blessed day in the sanctuary. Toward the end of the day cold winds blew through the hills in which the shrine is located. My mother may be a stoic rock when faced with troubles, but she has little resistance to the cold and suffered as we made our way down to the base of the hills. I recollect the way my father sought to shelter my mother, who had no jacket or pullover, with his body. I thought then, as I do now, that there was a profound lesson there in marital and Christian love.

As I just mentioned, my father’s life was marked by trials and tribulations. He worked hard, the poor man, and was often beset by the most horrific incidents. I remember the time a huge machine he was setting up at his industrial unit in Honda crushed his most elegant fingers. Or his heroic battle, assisted once again by the unfailing courage of my mother, against leukemia. He never lost faith though, that God does all things for the best.

Many of you are aware that some decades ago my father made a rather disastrous decision to open an ice factory in Pomburpa. I want to use the words of a friend to describe the reasons for the fiasco. “He was such a fine man, a real gentleman, some would say too fine for today’s twisted world.” In a business environment whose relationship to the law is marked by a wink and a nod, his commitment to honesty as a part of his Christian faith ensured that he complied with the law according to the letter such that he could not compete within the market. He would harass officials with his persistence, but there was no question of paying a bribe. In this respect, he was a man like many Catholics of his generation; God-fearing in the sense of respecting the commandments and trying to live an honest life. There was no shortcut to comfort, or success, only hard, and honest work. As my brother Joshua drew to my attention, our father recognized the dignity of labour, and was not above undertaking the most menial of tasks if it had to be done. Nor did the social station of an individual cause him to treat the individual in an impolite manner. This regard for the dignity of labour is one lesson that we will not soon forget.

Too often these days, these values are lacking around us, and I see in the death of my father, the death of a certain kind of Goan, and we are all the poorer for it. Indeed, if there was one thing that struck me in the condolences that have poured in it was the consistent reference to his charm, his politeness, and his gentlemanly nature.

Amor, was marked by a profound sense of duty and was as such, a faithful son, and committed to his family. He loved with all his heart and might his uncles and aunts, brothers, cousins. So deep was his love for his family that some members of the family knew that they could rely on Amor to fulfill domestic tasks that the children of the house would not. He was above all devoted to his mother. So devoted, that saving the house in Mapuca that she was so proud of was a commitment, perhaps even an obsession, for him. With Joel, my brother, he commenced on what can only be called a labour of love, to save the house from being one more Goan house slated to make way for a block of flats. Having done this, he lovingly restored it. I dare say that today that the Fernandes house in Mapuca stands as a testament to the beauty of the Goa we all cherish so much.

Speaking of Goa, I must point out that there are many aspects of our culture that we learn to despise or are embarrassed by. My father’s love of tiatr and cantaram allowed me to gain respect for these cultural forms. A respect that has allowed me to gain a PhD based on the politics around these forms and in this way highlight their importance to the survival of our cultural world.

Having made these observations on love, there is another aspect to the man that I cannot forget to mention. I wonder if his mother realised how apt was the name, Amor, that she gave him at this cradle. Known to almost the entire Portuguese-speaking world in Goa as Amor, love in all its aspects was something that defined his existence. He was love incarnated. He was the life of any party, the animation of a dance floor. I am very fond of one the sayings attributed to St. Irenaeus, one of the early fathers of the Church, that, “the glory of God is a human being fully alive!” My father had a joy for life and clung on to it fiercely. It was this will to survive, and indeed be fully alive, that allowed him to triumph over his financial crises, as well as the life-threatening conditions he twice found himself in. To this extent my father was a testament to the glory of God.

But he was not just a good time Charlie. My mother revealed to me that my father had a list of names of people he promised to pray for. I know that subsequent to his recovery from cancer he would pray for others with cancer. It is not coincidence, therefore, that the images of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, and Mary, held a prominent place in our house for as long as I can remember. Our father gave his name to our house, Villa Amor, and it was for this reason, that when looking for an icon for the Villa Amor WhatsApp group, it was obvious to me that a flaming heart was the most appropriate.

I could go on, and on, but I realize that I must stop soon. Before I do so, I would like to recollect his gift of Portuguese citizenship to his sons. Trying to resolve the many mess-ups in the documentation, our father travelled to far-off places, Mysore, Puttur, to get the documentation in order.  These sacrifices have made me alive to the sacrifice of so many Goan parents, who wish merely to pass on this birthright to their children. As you can see, my father was to me not only a good man, he was, he IS, a symbol of an entire culture that may be dying, but is not yet dead, and is as worthy of conservation as the beautiful memory of my father.

I spoke earlier of my brother Joel’s his support to my father’s restoration project. Joel will miss my father profoundly. Daddy was his best buddy, his project partner. I can only imagine the loneliness in his heart right now. Joel has had the privilege of being closest to our parents when they were in need of help. For your presence Joel, and the financial support you have extended when there was need, my sincere thanks.

My father was not a perfect man. He had his flaws. However, as we stand and look back at his life, his goodness, sincerity, and devotion are what come to mind.

I would like to end this eulogy with a reference to the Book of Job. “The Lord gives, the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord.” For the gift of love that you gave us in the life of Amor, and for the precious minutes we have had with him, we thank you and bless you. We know he is safe by your side. Amen.

(A version of this post was first read out at the funeral of my father at the church of St. Michael the Archangel in Taleigao on 5 July 2016)