Doing the needful: Why 'Indian'-English is my mother-tongue

About a week ago, a little humor column, titled 10 classic Indianisms: 'Doing the needful' and more: How to fix grammatically insane phrases found in common Indian English appeared on a website. Spreading like a virus from one FaceBook wall to another the column poked fun at a number of phrases that South Asians use, ‘Out of Station’, ‘Do one thing’, ‘Do the needful’ and implored the ‘Indian’ to buck up and start using proper English, since ‘Indian English’ was not correct or appropriate English.

There were a number of people who found the column funny, blessed as they were with this incredible capacity to laugh at themselves. One matron for example squawked ‘The scary part is how many of these terms I use... and here I was thinking my English was good!’ The manner in which she phrased her comment though, shed light on another aspect of that column; the column was also inviting ‘us’, i.e. those who speak ‘proper’ English to laugh at (and indeed find irritating) those who do not speak ‘proper’ English. This column was not entirely funny it turns out, because it seemed like just another cruel joke that school yard bullies pull on those weaker than them.

To begin with, the logic that the author used to belittle the English spoken in South Asia is terribly muddled. The author pointed out to us, that a number of the phrases that were used by South Asians were products of the colonial period, and hence ‘outdated’. In other words, we had to move on and pick up the latest forms. This could be a valid argument, especially since picking up new forms of the language serves to aid us to understand what others are saying. And yet, does that invalidate the English we use? If this is the case, then surely there should be huge problems with the English used in the United States? Contrary to popular perception, the English used in the United States is not English spelled incorrectly, but very often older versions of the spelling that has now changed in the UK. Merely because it comes from another era, does not mean that it has to necessarily be consigned to the dustbin of history, especially when it has a thriving life among millions of people on the planet.

Furthermore, what is more important is that this US English is in fact an internationally accepted form of the language. It exists and operates side by side with British English. Microsoft’s Word for example, gives you a choice between not just UK English and US English, but Philippines, Australia, Belize, Jamaica and Indian.

An argument could be made that this column found Indian English embarrassing when Indian English or non-British forms of English are otherwise deemed acceptable, because of the racist logic that unconsciously underlies it. According to this logic, each race has a language that is its own. This language is an expression of the collective spirit of the group, and as such this language cannot be taken up by another race, who have to always follow the original owners of this language who set the authentic forms of the language.

Now this bizarre logic,formulated at the height when racism was an acceptable logic in the international academy, does not hold ground anymore, at least not among those committed against racism and other forms of social discrimination. The clearly debilitating impact of this racism is that it prevents the South Asian from claiming their own history of the English language and delegitimizes both this history and the language it has produced. This is a rich history, and has produced charming nuances in interaction with the other languages in the subcontinent. Indeed, forms of English commonly used across the world today have derived from words associated with the subcontinent. Indian English then, in the forms that it is articulated in, is therefore a legitimate form of English spoken globally, and legitimately an ‘Indian’ language at the same time.

There are a great many reasons why we should reject the racist formulations for languages and accept the proposition above. An earlier column suggested that the Indian elites are an extremely insecure group. They are insecure because they allow racist logics left over from the days of the British Raj to govern their thought patterns. If they were to reject the racist formulation of English, they would not so insecurely look over their shoulder continuously trying to imitate the white man, and trying to match up to them. On the contrary, they would, like those in the US, confidently assert the legitimacy of their version of English.

This confidence gained in the process, would possibly allow them to respect their compatriots who do not speak other (international) forms of English. The author of the essay for example, finds Indian English ‘irritating’. Persons who speak South Asian variants of English would be recognized as having a limited command over the multiple forms of the language, just as one has a limited capacity by not speaking other international languages. They would not however be ridiculed for not as speaking ‘wrong’ English. Perhaps the Indian ignores how much the lack of respect for fellow Indians, contributes to thwarting the fond dream of an Indian super-power.

The formulations discussed in this column are not unhelpful to intervene in the debate currently ongoing in Goa that opposes the introduction of English as a State supported medium of instruction. Those opposing English are in fact persons guided by racist logics that prevent us from acknowledging that English is a local language, a mother tongue even. It allows them to raise silly arguments against English, arguing that there are not teachers skilled in the language. Most importantly however, it shows us what the real problem with the anti-English lobby is; motivated by racist imaginations, their arguments can only lead to the suffocation of democratic life and opportunities in Goa.

(A version of this blog post was first published in the Gomantak Times 22 June 2011)

Letters from Portugal X: Ego Sum Panis Vivus

To view the Portuguese Parliament, the Assembleia da República is a wondrous thing. This building emerges, like a huge ant-hill, from right within the middle of a regular residential neighborhood. There are no high walls, no barricades, battalions of guards restricting your experience of the exterior of the building. One minute you are ambling through the streets of the São Bento neighborhood, and the next minute you are smack in front of this national edifice. Indeed, one can walk right up to the main façade of the building and not be interfered with by the largely ceremonial guards standing at the entrance.

For a South Asian, this is a unique experience. For not only is the procedural seat of democracy, however flawed it may be, located right among the people it represents, but it is also unmediated by unnecessary security. Security in South Asia, is unfortunately a testament to the certain lack of trust in the citizenry by the government, a sign that something is not quite right. As a Goan, this arrangement is actually a reminder of happier days, when our Legislative Assembly was similarly located in Panjim, amongst the people it represented.

A Portuguese friend once grumbled that the location of the Parliament saying it allowed people no space to protest against the Government. The roads around the Parliament restricted the space and amount of protestors. While this may be true, a recent incident demonstrated how innovative protest can in fact make its point in such a situation.

Some months ago, faced with the looming financial crisis, the Portuguese government raised the VAT on a number of products, including bread – the most basic of all foods. Simultaneously however, it reduced the VAT on golfing drastically. While seemingly bizarre and insensitive this action was possessed of an internal logic. Golfing holidays brought in 500 million euros to the Portuguese economy in the year 2009, persuading the Government that reducing the VAT would encourage more golfers to holiday in Portugal.

This act however, drew the ire of a number; resulting in a rather innovative protest. Apparently designed so it could be recorded and transmitted to a larger audience, the protest is available online at http://vimeo.com/21415500. Choreographed to the music from the motet ‘Ego Sum Panis Vivus’ (I am the Bread of Life) by Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, the video shows a young man attired for golf, walk up the steps to the front of the Parliament, place a loaf of bread in front of it, and then swing his club, shooting the bread toward the Parliament. Having done so, he calmly collects his bag of golf clubs and leaves the scene of protest.

Returning to this focus on security, what is so interesting is that the guards at the entrance did not stop the man, calling their supervisors only after they saw this man shoot the bread toward the building. By the time the supervisors arrived it was too late, and the video shows them standing there, being briefed about the action. The video seems to mock the security apparatus around the Parliament. But perhaps these young Portuguese protestors seem to miss the point. The drama of their protest was enabled precisely by the relaxed security around the building. To mock this situation is to demand for the suffocating security that marks official buildings, and thus their democracies across much of the world. But then, we never know, until much later, what to be thankful for.

(A version of this post was first published in the Oheraldo 12 June 2011)

A frog on slow boil: The inevitable outcome of nationalism

What is the problem with nationalism; is the question often posed to the opinions articulated in this column. Is it not a force for good? To love your county and country-persons? To be proud of your culture, and to know your history? To these innocent and hopeful questions this column presents the answer in the form of the bandh on June 6 2011. The bandh called by the BBSM is a perfect example of what nationalism brings and the costs that it extracts from you.

The demands of FORCE and the parents of students were rather simple. We have made a choice for our children; a decision to educate them in English. As taxpayers and citizens of this country, we would like the State to recognize this life-decision that we have made for our children and support schools that teach our children in English. This is a simple demand. A demand that flows from the many fundamental rights that are enshrined in our Constitution and indeed part of the globally recognized canon of Human Rights. After some dithering, the Government seems to have made a reasonable decision, it would provide aid to those schools where parents make explicit their choice for English. There are problems with this formulation, but let us leave that be for now. What was the response to this peaceful demand for the exercise of choice? The BBSM’s violent and forced shutting down of the State. What was the BBSM, and the BJP that sponsored this paralysis, saying? You do not have a choice to determine your future. You do not have this choice because it could threaten the existence of national culture. What is important to note is that this perceived threat is apparently going to emerge because of a choice a people are making for and about their own lives. This threat does not emerge from a demand to restrict the choices of others. Thus, what these groups are saying is that in Goa, you are not allowed to live your life, you are required to live for the nation. The moment the self-appointed caretakers of this nation perceive a threat to the nation, all rights must necessarily grind to a halt. They can then ask you, and this is what the BBSM and allied groups are doing, to surrender your life, and your life chances.

The BBSM rejects the right of Goans, whether Catholic, Hindu, Muslim or otherwise to determine the culture of their home. Even if that culture is suffocating the life out of you, these caretakers will not allow you to change, to rise up in life. At the end of the day, this is what Konkani and Marathi represent to some people. It is the dead anchor that ties them to an antiquated past and they too want to be ‘modern’ like the English speakers. What the BBSM is doing is keeping them fixed in the uncomfortable place they want to get out of. THE BBSM is the nationalist jailer.

At the end of the day, this is what nationalism is. It forces you to be one thing alone, and nothing else. It tells you that you can have only one language as your own, and none other. You cannot develop another language as your own. It will tell you what your culture is and what is not. IT will not allow you to claim other cultures as your own. It will cut out portions of your history and tell you that segment A is good, and segments B, D, E are bad. And you will have to meekly agree to this. All these choices are made not by you, but by some third party, invariably in this third party’s best interest.

There is NO good that comes from nationalism and the single choices it offers you. For years since before and subsequent to 1961, Goans, of all religions, castes and creeds have tried to stick to these options. They embraced the idea that Marathi was their language, when in fact they spoke Konkani, and they rejected the possibility of embracing both. They embraced Konkani, even when they knew that Konkani had a precious, but restricted space in their life, and that they saw an emancipatory future in English. Nationalist ideas forced these earlier decisions and its payback time today. What they haven’t told you yet is that it will only get worse.

Enjoy the party folks!

(A version was first published in the Gomantak Times 8 June 2011)

Letters from Portugal: The Natural Order of Things

On the fifth of June Portugal will go to the polls to elect a new national government. This election, precipitated by the economic crisis in the country, comes well before the term of the Parliament was to end. Indeed, I had just moved to Lisbon in September 2009 when José Socrates assumed office at the conclusion of the last election.

As an enthusiastic anthropologist I was looking forward to every possibility to experience facets of the Portuguese life. So when my landlady and her friend excitedly decided that they could not bear to watch the results being announced on TV, but would proceed to the ‘street’, I joined them.

I had no clue as yet though, that the street they had in mind was the street in front of the Hotel Altis, where the Socialist Party was camping while awaiting news of the results. Some time after we arrived at the hotel my landlady’s companion announced that she was going to go up to the thirteenth floor where the big shots were following the announcement of the results. And so, the three of us walked into the lobby of the hotel, to the elevator, and then up to the thirteenth floor. In a matter of minutes, I found myself introduced to the Mayor of Lisbon, the minister of this and the minister of that, and cocktailed my way to the announcements of the Socialist Party’s victory.

What was striking about this whole experience was how easy it had been for us to get up there. It occurred to me, that such a prospect would have been close to impossible in India. First, the hotel would have been bounded by a wall, with guards at the entrance to the compound. Subsequently there would have been security at the entrance to the lobby, then at the entrance to the lift, and finally on the thirteenth floor. There would have been no way in which a shabbily dressed non-entity would have made it all the way, quite literally, to the top.

This experience seems to allow a counter-intuitive reading of both Indian and Portuguese society. India may be a polity marked by a severely stratified society, but it is one in which those who are at the bottom of the pile are not willing to be remain there. They actively challenge the system, transgress boundaries and assert their right to enter spaces they are barred from. The guards are present not because India is marked by a naturally hierarchical society, but because it is not. The guards are there to violently assert the hierarchy of the political and social order.

By the same logic, it appears that the absence of guards at the Hotel Altis is evidence of a 'natural' order of things in Portuguese society. Armed with the knowledge that Portuguese society is in fact severely hierarchical, one could hazard a reading that for the most part, the hierarchies of the system are not challenged sufficiently. The people know their place in the social order and stick there, reducing the need for the excessive policing that one sees in the subcontinent. One also imagines that the economic well-being produced through joining the EU was incentive enough to not challenge social boundaries. What happens to this social compact however, now that the good times are over? Could poverty within a democratic framework in fact prove to be a blessing in disguise?

(A version of the post was first published in the Herald 29 May 2011)