Genocides and Xenophobia in South Asia and Beyond: A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Known, Lesser-known and Unknown Crime of Crimes [1 ed.] 9781032020914, 9781032071220, 9781003205470

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“Across geographies of time and space, including India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, South Africa and Rwanda, the authors reveal how past and present coalesce in powerful and complex ways to manifest in the atrocities of xenophobia and genocide. While the world’s eye is on the Russian-Ukrainian war, with the accompanying genocide in Ukraine, the book is a stark reminder of the fragility of peace, the all too easy negation of the ‘never again’ promise, and of humanity’s unfortunate propensity to decompensate into a brutalizing inhumanity. Against this background is Rwanda’s story of reconciliation, rebuilding and hope that the world might draw lessons from. A must read for anyone with a moral impulse towards an undivided and a more peaceful world!” Dr. Vishanthie Sewpaul, Emeritus Professor, University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN), South Africa, Professor ii, University of Stavanger, Norway “Xenophobia and Genocide are contentious notions in the wider landscape of mass atrocities and violence. Xenophobia and Genocide in South Asia and Beyond is a provocative collection of substantive and innovative essays on understudied issues that intersect between violence, power, and prejudices in South Asia and beyond. The contributors to the volume use lesser known and some popular case studies across spatial landscapes to present a critical narrative of existing and emerging mass atrocities. In the process, these scholars critically re-examine and provide innovative analyses of the conceptual notions of Xenophobia and Genocide even as they consider established institutional perspectives. The essays brilliantly challenge our existing notions of atrocities and violence and stimulate our understanding of the same. To that end, the book is a necessary read for students, researchers, and practitioners who wish to become familiar with the critical attributes of violence (emerging from economic effects of debt, fiscal deficits, capital flows, international trade, militarization, and globalization) as it manipulates consent and challenges democratic norms in places.” Dr Rajiv Thakur, Associate Professor of Geography, Missouri State University, West Plains and AAAS Science and Technology Policy Fellow – USAID “This is a wonderful collection of thought-provoking eleven chapters, discussing very relevant and timely needed topics. It will prove to be a significant contribution to the critical understanding of the cases of Xenophobia and Genocide in five countries. The book will be handy and highly useful for the academic community.” Dr Subhash Anand, Professor, Department of Geography, Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi, Delhi – 110007, India.

GENOCIDES AND XENOPHOBIA IN SOUTH ASIA AND BEYOND

This volume foregrounds some of the unknown or lesser-known incidents of xenophobia and genocide from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, South Africa, and Rwanda. It critically analyses the cultural and structural contexts triggering these various forms of genocides and xenophobia, and situates them within modern histories of violence and human tribulations. The book discusses various non-Western case studies, which include the communal violence incited by anti-CAA protests in Delhi; the expulsion and displacement of Kashmiri Pandits; xenophobic attitudes against illegal immigrants in Assam; genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh; the 1994 genocide in Rwanda; and incidences of human rights violations across the world. A comprehensive and transdisciplinary text, the book will be useful for students and researchers of human geography, sociology, political science, social work, anthropology, colonialism and postcolonialism, nationalism, imperialism, human rights, and history. Rituparna Bhattacharyya holds a PhD from the School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of Newcastle, UK. She is a senior fellow at Advance HE (formerly Higher Education Academy), UK, and an adjunct professor at Indian Institute of Technology, Guwahati, India. She also works as a research consultant and editor-in-chief (Joint) of the journal Space and Culture, India. She does volunteer work at the Prag Foundation for Capacity Building, a public charitable trust in India, and the Alliance for Community Capacity Building for North East India, a UK-registered charity. She has more than 65 publications to her credit with international publishing houses. Her latest book is Bhattacharyya, R. (2023). North East India Through the Ages: A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Prehistory, History, and Oral History. London and New York: Routledge, Taylor and Francis.

Genocides and Xenophobia in South Asia and Beyond A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Known, Lesser-known and Unknown Crime of Crimes Edited by Rituparna Bhattacharyya

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Rituparna Bhattacharyya; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Rituparna Bhattacharyya to be identified as the authors of the editorial material and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this book are those of author and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of Routledge. The international boundaries, coastlines, denominations, and other information shown in the maps in this work do not necessarily imply any judgement concerning the legal status of any territory or the endorsement or acceptance of such information. Maps used in this book are for representational purposes only. For current boundaries please refer to Survey of India maps. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-1-032-02091-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-07122-0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-20547-0 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470 Typeset in Sabon by SPi Technologies India Pvt Ltd (Straive)

To my parents – Late (Mrs) Meera Bhattacharyya and Late Professor Narendra Nath Bhattacharyya

Contents

List of Figures xi List of Tables xii Foreword xiii List of Contributors xv Acknowledgements xxi 1 Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide

1

RITUPARNA BHATTACHARYYA

2 Nationalisms On(the)line: New Media and the Fanning of Fear and Xenophobia

33

APARAJITA DE AND VIVEK TRIPATHI

3 The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot: New Delhi, 2020

52

AJOY ASHIRWAD MAHAPRASHASTA

4 Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits

76

KULBHUSHAN WARIKOO

5 Narratives, Violence and Consent: The Normalisation of State Violence in Jammu and Kashmir

106

DEVIKA MITTAL

6 Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide? Framing and Naming the Anti-Sikh Violence of Delhi 1984 SILVIA TIERI

124

x Contents 7 Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?

144

RITUPARNA BHATTACHARYYA AND PRANJIT KUMAR SARMA

8 ‘Recovering Violent Pasts’: Revisiting moments of Xenophobic Violence and Uprooting from Partitioned North-East India

181

BINAYAK DUTTA

9 Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh

197

TULSHI KUMAR DAS AND MOHAMMAD JAHIRUL HOQUE

10 Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka: Politics of SinhalaTamil Tensions

227

ROSHNI KAPUR AND AMIT RANJAN

11 Xenophobia in South Africa: Can this Morph into Genocide?

244

BRIJ MAHARAJ AND STEVEN LAWRENCE GORDON

12 1994 Rwanda Holocaust: A Critical Analysis of Xenophobia Mutating to Genocide against the Tutsi

261

RITUPARNA BHATTACHARYYA, VENKAT RAO PULLA, CHARLES KALINGANIRE, AND GASPARD RWANYIZIRI

Index 286

Figures

7.1 Ahom Kingdom 146 7.2 Increase in the Number of Persons Born in Mymensingh in Goalpara, Kamrup and Nowgong Districts in Assam, 1911–1931 152 7.3 Migrants from East Bengal/East Pakistan in Assam, 1901–1951 153 7.4 Share of Muslim Population to the Total Population of Assam (1901–2011) 163 7.5 Intercensal Population Growth Rate of Hindus and Muslims in Assam (1951–2011) 164 7.6 Trend of Population Growth of Hindus and Muslims in Barak Valley (1961–2011) 165 7.7 District-wise Percentage of Muslim Population, Assam 167 9.1 Study Area 202 9.2 Local School Teacher, who Escaped from the Mass Killings, Describes the Genocide Committed by the Pakistani Army and their Collaborators. He was also Shot by the Military 210 9.3 A Genocide Survivor Indicates the Spot of the Atrocity of the Pakistani Army and Their Collaborators 211 12.1 Administrative Map of Rwanda 266

Tables

1.1 A Brief Overview of the Key Events Linked to Genocide 7 1.2 10 Stages to Genocide 16 7.1 Number of Persons Born in Bengal in Each District of Assam, 1911–1931 (Ms = Mymensingh and Population in 000s) 151 9.1 The Brutality of the Pakistani Army and their Collaborators against the Bengalis in 1971 206 9.2 Genocide Spots in the Sylhet Region of Bangladesh 207 11.1 Different Stages of Genocide 246 11.2 Xenophobic Violence and Killings in Democratic South Africa Timeline 251 11.3 Count and Percentage of Adults Willing to Take Part in Violent Action 253 11.4 Count and Percentage of Adults Willing to Take Part in Violent Action 254 12.1 Brief Outline of the Timeline till Rwanda Gained Independence 264 12.2 ICTR Indicted 93 Individuals 274

Foreword

Genocide is a crime that has devastated people in different periods of history. Readers of the book will be well exposed to the fact that it is an organized crime. There is a specific target which the perpetrators of the crime decide. It is executed by unleashing severe violence. It is not just the loss of human lives but also the loss of faith, trust, and human feelings to live and let live. No other being in the animal kingdom organizes mass killings of its fellow beings. One of its companions might be killed or left to die because of its rogue behaviour or sickness, but to kill just for the reason of exterminating is not known. Then why do we, the Homo sapiens, kill our fellow beings on a mass scale? It’s a severe threat to the species. It can result in the loss of certain specific genotypic and phenotypic characters, which might result in the species losing specific capacities to survive. But as we read the various chapters of the book with cases of genocide from across the world, it is clear there is no species-level concern. There is very little understanding that the species is harmed. Instead, it is planned for the benefit of a few members of the species. Political agendas are supreme in guiding such mass killings, but besides that religion and individual egos of powerful rulers play their roles. The scale of violence is unexplainable. Adolf Hitler might have set the benchmark for all future perpetrators of genocide, but that might be surpassed soon. United Nations is the only body in the world that provides guidelines and instructions for regulating human group behaviour, especially regarding xenophobic tendencies. But it has not been able to prevent it. It keeps happening. The larger ones might get covered by the media, while the smaller ones might go unreported. In all types of political systems, whether it is a democracy, dictatorship, monarchy or others, genocides happen. Maybe this type of effort of enquiring into the genesis of the xenophobic violence, of connecting it to survival questions of a few, graphically representing the fallout of such actions, and of looking at policies framed by governments of respective states fanning xenophobic tendencies can bring in an effective mechanism to stop it at the community, state, national and international levels. This will also help build awareness at the level of policymakers, community leaders, intelligentsia and the general public.

xiv Foreword How can Genocide be prevented? It’s a million-dollar question that this book attempts to examine and opine. Developing mechanisms to build trust and faith amongst groups of people in contesting positions is essential. Can history guide us? Is resilience a mechanism to rebuild, to resist? This book, a research endeavour, can help us design and frame our thoughts and actions to condemn and erect breakers to stop genocide. I congratulate the editor of the book and the contributors of the chapters who made attempts to bring together data, maybe unspoken, maybe hidden, perhaps coloured, to place it concisely for readers. Professor Sukanya Sharma Humanities and Social Sciences Indian Institute of Technology, Guwahati, India 29 August 2022

Contributors

Rituparna Bhattacharyya holds a PhD from the School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of Newcastle, UK. She is a senior fellow in Advance HE (formerly Higher Education Academy), UK, and an adjunct professor in Indian Institute of Technology, Guwahati. She also works as a research consultant and is editor-in-chief (joint) of the journal Space and Culture, India. She does volunteer work at the Prag Foundation for Capacity Building, a public charitable trust in India, and the Alliance for Community Capacity Building for North East India, a UK-registered charity. She has more than 65 publications to her credit in international outlets  – Routledge, Taylor and Francis, Elsevier, Springer Nature, Palgrave Macmillan, Sage, Wiley, Primrose Publication and many others. Her most recent and forthcoming publications are: Bhattacharyya, R. (2023), North East India Through the Ages: A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Prehistory, History, and Oral History, London and New York: Routledge, Taylor and Francis, DOI: 10.4324/9781003157816; Anand, S., Das, M., Bhattacharyya, R. and Singh, RB. (eds. in production, 2023); Sustainable Development Goals in Northeast India: Challenges and Achievements, International Geographical Union (IGU) Series: Advances in Geographical and Environmental Sciences, Springer Nature https://link.springer.com/book/9789811964770; Bhattacharyya, R. (2021); Pierre Bourdieu’s Symbolic Violence: Scripting Gender among Assamese Middle-Class Women in Higher Education; in Anindita Dutta  (ed.). Gender, Space and Agency in India: Exploring Regional Genderscapes, 15–33 (Routledge); Pulla, V., Bhattacharyya R., & Bhatt Sanjai (2020); Discrimination, Challenge, and Response: People of North East India, London: Palgrave Macmillan, DOI:10.1007/978-3-03046251-2; eBook ISBN:978-3-030-46251-2; Hardcover ISBN:978-3030-46250-5 & Das, Tulshi Kumar, Bhattacharyya, Rituparna & Sarma, Pranjit (2022). Revisiting geographies of nationalism and national identity in Bangladesh, Geojournal, 87, 1099–1120. https://doi.org/10. 1007/s10708-020-10305-1 (Springer). ORCID ID: https://orcid.org/ 0000-0002-4290-6172

xvi Contributors Tulshi Kumar Das is a professor of social work at Shahjalal University of Science and Technology. He has widely published articles with Sage, Wiley-Blackwell, Taylors and Francis, Springer, Oxford University Press, Primrose Hall, Australia, ACCB Publishing, England etc. He has completed research projects relating to domestic violence, natural disasters, street children, micro-credit, food security, ethnicity, human rights, nationalism etc. sponsored by Comic Relief Fund, UK., FAO, Ministry of Social Welfare, European Commission, USAID, GIZ/ EPOS (Germany), Japan College of Social Work, Korea International Cooperation Agency (KOICA) and Bangladesh University Grants Commission. He actively works with many welfare organizations in Bangladesh. ORCID ID: https:// orcid.org/0000-0002-3495-5900. Aparajita De is presently a professor at the Department of Geography, Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi. Her research largely falls within the scope of urban and media studies. She has been working for over a decade on the theme of imagination and constructions of space in everyday lives. She has conducted research and published on the socio-spatial construction of Hindu-Muslim identities in the backdrop of communal violence. Aparajita currently researches mediated ‘geographical’ imaginations and in particular how new media has reconfigured notions and emotional geographies of space, borders and everyday cultural practices. Binayak Dutta is a faculty member at the Department of History of North Eastern Hill University (NEHU) in Shillong and a senior fellow at Asian Confluence, Shillong. Before joining NEHU, Binayak was an advocate at the Gauhati High Court, and taught History at Assam University in its Diphu Campus and St Edmund’s College in Shillong. He was also a visiting fellow at the ICSSR’s OKD Institute of Social Change and Development in Guwahati. His research includes studying the cultural and social dimensions of partitions in North East India between 1947 and 1971, understanding the history of mapping, migration and displacement and how these could be seen through the lenses of gender, law and citizenship. He has authored three books and about two scores of research papers related to his interests. Steven Lawrence Gordon is a senior research Specialist at the Developmental, Capable and Ethical State research division within the Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC). He is also a research associate at the Faculty of Humanities, University of Johannesburg. He holds a PhD in geography from the University of KwaZulu-Natal. His work has focused on intergroup relations, subjective wellbeing, prejudice formation and attitudes towards democracy, and he has published more than 30 peer-reviewed papers on these themes.

Contributors  xvii Mohammad Jahirul Hoque is a professor of political studies at Shahjalal University of Science and Technology, Sylhet, Bangladesh. He holds a PhD in development studies from SOAS, UK, and master’s degree in peace and development from Leeds Met., UK, and is a Commonwealth Scholar in both programmes. He graduated in political studies and public affairs from SUST with distinction and then passed master’s in the same discipline with distinction. He has been awarded President Gold Medal, Vice Chancellor’s Medal and University Book Prize for his academic excellence. He researches on contemporary issues in development, environment, governance and politics. Charles Kalinganire is a lecturer at the University of Rwanda/College of Arts and Social Sciences in the Department of Social Sciences, and is currently a PhD candidate in social work. He has been working with Trócaire, World Vision, UNICEF, Care International, Gender Monitoring Office, Tulane University, SOS Children Villages, CBOs, FBOs and various Rwandan ministries. His main research activities and consultancies focus on child and family welfare, gender, HIV/AIDS, community work and social development. Roshni Kapur is a programme manager/political strategist for Rule of Law Programme Asia at Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung Ltd. She previously worked as a research analyst at the Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore from 2018 to 2021. She specializes in geopolitics, conflict resolution, political violence, transitional justice, identity politics and energy transition in South Asia. She is the editor of the book ‘Sustainable Energy Transition in South Asia: Challenges and Opportunities’. Her commentaries, book reviews and review essays have been published in journals including Strategic Analyst, India Quarterly: A Journal of International Affairs, Commonwealth & Comparative Politics and Asian Ethnicity. She regularly contributes commentaries for Lowy Institute, The Middle East Institute, South Asian Voices and East Asia Forum. Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta is currently the political affairs editor at The Wire, a New Delhi-based news platform. He has been covering national politics for 15 years, with a special focus on Indian elections. He has travelled extensively through the Indian hinterland while reporting on sectarian conflicts, social sector, agriculture and higher education. During his eight-year stint at Frontline magazine, he also wrote occasionally on art, culture and cinema. He holds an MA in Indian History from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, and a journalism diploma from Asian College of Journalism, Chennai. His stories attempt to map the socio-­ political and cultural churnings that India has been experiencing since the onset of economic liberalization in the early 1990s.

xviii Contributors Brij Maharaj is a senior professor of geography at the University of KwaZuluNatal, Durban, South Africa. He is a B-rated NRF researcher and is also a member of the Academy of Science of South Africa. His research scholarship focuses on a range of critical themes relating to urban inequality, social exclusion and displacement, and he has published over 150 peerreviewed papers on these themes. Devika Mittal is an assistant professor at the Department of Sociology, Jesus and Mary College, University of Delhi. She holds a doctorate from the Department of Sociology, Delhi School of Economics. Her doctoral work examined the discourse of secularism through an ethnographic study of a school culture in Delhi. Her research interests include nationalism, secularism, peace and conflict studies and education. Besides academics, she is  also a peace education practitioner and works with Aaghaz-e-Dosti, a civilian India-Pakistan peacebuilding initiative. Venkat Rao Pulla is a Tata Dorabji Merit scholar from the Tata Institute of Social Sciences India. He began his career in Hyderabad, India, and taught ethics and social work practice throughout his career, and writes in the areas of human coping and resilience. He has co-edited volumes on strengths-based practice. He was the head of the School of Social Work and an associate professor of social work. He has taught at several universities in Australia. He is the associate editor of Springer Nature, Social Sciences, member of the International Journal of Innovation, Creativity and Change, UK, and editor-in-chief (joint) of the journal Space and Culture, India, which is published from the UK. He is currently a foundation professor at the Brisbane Institute of Strengths Based Practice, Adjunct Senior Lecturer in the College of Arts, Society & Education, James Cook University, Australia, and life member at Australian Institute of International Affairs. He can be reached at: [email protected] and his ORCID ID: https:// orcid.org/0000-0003-0395-9973. Amit Ranjan is a research fellow at the Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore. His latest book is Contested Waters: India’s Transboundary River Water Disputes in South Asia (Routledge, London and New Delhi, 2020). He is also the author of India-Bangladesh Border Disputes: History and Post-LBA Dynamics (Springer, Singapore, 2018). Dr Ranjan has edited the following books: India in South Asia Challenges and Management (Springer, Singapore, 2019), Partition of India: Postcolonial Legacies (Routledge, London and New Delhi, 2019) and Water Issues in Himalayan South Asia: Internal Challenges, Disputes and Transboundary Tensions (Palgrave Macmillan, Singapore, 2019). His papers, review essays and book reviews have been widely published in journals, including Asian Survey, Asian Affairs, Asian Ethnicity, Asian Journal of Comparative Politics, Economic & Political Weekly, India

Contributors  xix Review, Indian Journal of Public Administration, India Quarterly, Journal of Migration Affairs, Journal of the Indian Ocean Region, Roundtable: The Commonwealth Journal of International Affairs, Social Change, Studies in Indian Politics, Society and Culture in South Asia, South Asia Research, Journal of Asian Security and International Affairs, Water History, and World Water Policy. Gaspard Rwanyiziri (PhD) is an associate professor of geography and planning (major: environmental geography) and Director of the Centre for Geographic Information Systems and Remote Sensing at the University of Rwanda. His research interests are environment, climate change, natural resources management, green growth, spatial thinking, GIS and applications. He published a good number of scientific papers in peer-reviewed journals on above-mentioned research areas. He also contributed to the drafting of various technical reports and policies in Rwanda and in East Africa. Finally, he has travelled extensively within East Africa, Western Europe and North America. Pranjit Sarma is an assistant professor at the Department of Geography, Mangaldai College. He holds a PhD from North Eastern Hill University, Shillong, Meghalaya, India. Dr Sarma has expertise in the field of remote sensing and GIS and published a number of research papers in that field in journals of national and international repute. He is also associated with a biodiversity conservation organization called Aaranyak, and has worked as an honorary head in its GIS Division. Dr Sarma has completed several projects on the application of GIS and remote sensing on resource management and its conservation funded by organizations like the International Foundation for Science (IFS), Sweden, Asian Rhino Project (ARP), Australia, Rufford Foundation of UK, and Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO). Dr Sarma is currently working on social issues of North East Indian states and generating a GIS database of the region. His Scopus Author ID: 35219128400; and ORCID ID: https://orcid. org/0000-0001-9986-9790. Silvia Tieri is a PhD candidate at King’s India Institute (King’s College London) – South Asian Studies Programme (National University of Singapore). Her dissertation deals with the politics of linguistic identity in contemporary Punjab. Earlier she was a research analyst at the Institute of South Asian Studies (ISAS) in Singapore. She studied political science and international relations at the University of Pisa – Scuola Superiore S. Anna (Italy) and South Asian Studies at the National University of Singapore. Vivek Tripathi is an assistant professor at the Department of Geography, Miranda House College, University of Delhi. He holds an MA and a PhD from the Department of Geography, Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi. His previous teaching experience has been at Noida International University, Kalindi College and Bhim Rao Ambedkar College at the

xx Contributors University of Delhi. In addition, he has been a research consultant at the Institute of Social Studies Trust (ISST), Outline India, Tata Consultancy Service (TCS) and Macmillan India for various research projects. Kulbhushan Warikoo holds a PhD from the Centre for Russian and Central Asian Studies, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Prof Warikoo taught for over 30 years at Jawaharlal Nehru University and founded its Central Asian Studies Programme, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He was Senior Fellow at Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi for 2 years (April 2019–March 2021). Known for his distinguished service to Himalayan, Central Asian, Xinjiang, Eurasian and Silk Route Studies, Prof Warikoo is the author/editor of 22 books. These include Xinjiang: China’s Northwest Frontier; Eurasia and India: Regional Perspectives; Himalayan Frontiers of India; Religion and Security in South and Central Asia (all published by Routledge Taylor & Francis, UK,USA), The Other Kashmir: Society, Culture and Politics in the Karakoram Himalayas; Cultural Heritage of Jammu and Kashmir; Cultural Heritage of Kashmiri Pandits; Afghanistan: Challenges and Opportunities; Bamiyan: Challenge to World Heritage; Central Asia and Kashmir: A Study in the context of Anglo-Russian Rivalry and Central Asia: Emerging New Order. Prof. Warikoo has travelled extensively in Xinjiang; Central Asian Republics of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan; Khakassia, Altai, Buryatia and Tuva Republics of Russian Federation; Afghanistan and Mongolia. He is the founder editor of Himalayan and Central Asian Studies, a quarterly journal being published regularly and uninterruptedly since 1997, devoted to the study of various issues pertaining to the Himalayan and Trans-Himalayan region in South and Central Asia. He has supervised 34 PhD and 52 MPhil research scholars, thus inspiring, guiding and training the young generation in the field of Himalayan and Central Asian studies.

Acknowledgements

I dedicate this book to my parents. My mother – late Mrs Meera Bhattacharyya – the epitome of ‘Girl Power’ – retired as Headmistress, Dalibari High School, Kamrup District, Assam, in 2007, and my late father, Dr Narendra Nath Bhattacharyya, was a professor at the Department of Geography, Gauhati University. They always believed in me, possibly giving me the strength, tenacity, confidence and determination to carry this project forward. In the wake of the promulgation of the Citizenship (Amendment) Act (CAA) 2019 by the Parliament of India, the whole country witnessed storms of xenophobic hate, polarization, protests and violence, the ripples of which were visible all over the place, including the occidental world – the social media, and the diasporic community. The xenophobia and violence prompted me to delve into how geographic places became the node of xenophobic and (or) genocidal intention and action. Therefore, a few chapters (Chapters 2, 3, 7 and 8) of this project demonstrate how xenophobia escalated into riots in various locations of India after the implementation of the CAA, 2019. Alongside, the project advances the critical understanding of some of the popular, less popular and unknown incidents of xenophobia and genocide, thereby geographically representing various locations of South Asia and beyond (Rwanda and South Africa). Interdisciplinary scholars of Humanities and Social Sciences – International Studies, Geography, Social Work, Sociology, History, Cultural Studies and Journalism – bearing insider perspectives contribute to this project. All of them are experts in their own fields. I thank each author for their contributions and continued support during the journey of re(writing) and revising the chapters and making this project a grand success. Dr Poonam Kakoti Borah, Assistant Professor, Department of Women’s Studies, Gauhati University and Dr Amit Ranjan, Research Fellow at the Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore (himself an author in this project) deserve special mention for their support in networking and recruiting authors for this project. I would like to thank Professor Sukanya Sharma, Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology, Guwahati, India, for writing the Foreword of this book. Equally, I convey my heartfelt thanks to Dr Vishanthie

xxii Acknowledgements Sewpaul, Emeritus Professor, University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN), South Africa, and Professor ii, University of Stavanger, Norway; Dr Rajiv Thakur, Associate Professor of Geography, Missouri State University, West Plains and AAAS Science and Technology Policy Fellow – USAID; and Dr Subhash Anand, Professor, Department of Geography, Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi, India, for writing the blurb of this book. A ‘big thank you’ to Anvitaa Bajaj, Brinda Sen, Aakash Chakrabarty, Saritha Srinivasan and other production team members of Routledge, and Taylor and Francis Group for their constant support in accomplishing this project. I cannot forget Mr Molen Vaklin (my Vaklin uncle), Senior Engineering Assistant, Doordarshan Kendra, Guwahati and his better half, Mrs Rajalakshmi Vaklin (aunty), Private Secretary, Dy. Director General (NER), All India Radio, Guwahati, for inculcating the sense of writing in my subconscious mind. I also thank my mother-in-law, Mrs Mrinalini Devi, and my father-in-law, late Kailash Nath Sarma, for their continued blessings. My family has rendered complete support in accomplishing the project. My two children, Miss Maitreyee Mahasweta Moudgalya (Mimli), PhD scholar, Department of Physics, Manchester University, and Mr Dhritiman Biswa Sarma (Jamie), first-year undergradute student, Newcastle University, have grown up seeing their mother always in front of the computer, busy completing academic assignments. They have taught me to reimagine and relive life. Finally, of course, there are no words to express my thanks to my soulmate, Dr Jayanta Biswa Sarma, Lead Consultant Microbiologist, North Tyneside General Hospital, Northumbria Healthcare, NHS Foundation Trust. Together we have spent more than 25 years caring, sharing and supporting each other. Rituparna Bhattacharyya

1 Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide Rituparna Bhattacharyya

Introduction Each year, UNESCO pays tribute to the victims of the Holocaust [Hebrew Shoʾah (Catastrophe), Yiddish and Hebrew Ḥurban (Destruction)], around 27 January, commemorating the day as the International Holocaust Remem­ brance Day1 aimed at reducing the hostility, prejudices, and discrimination that people face simply because of their identity. In January 2022, the BBC produced Storyville: Final Account (2022), a documentary portraying the poignant tales of the last living generation who grew up during the regime of Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Germany, the Third Reich experiencing the Holocaust. Similarly, Rise of the Nazis is another knowledge-building documentary produced by BBC Two (Rise of the Nazis, n.d.), presenting how Hitler’s savage power and dictatorship were deployed to seek Lebensraum (living space) for the Germans in Eastern Europe, which gave birth to the Holocaust killing more than six million Jews and other civilians (Soviet civilians and prisoners of war, Poles, Serbs, disabled, Romani, Freemasons, Slovenes, homosexuals, Spanish Republicans, Jehovah’s Witnesses) based on their political beliefs, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation (Black, 2016; Crowe, 2008; Shaw, 2015; Rise of the Nazis, n.d.). In his speech, The Atlantic Charter, broadcast in London, on 24 August 1941, published in the book Never Give In, selected and edited by his grandson Winston S. Churchill (2003), in connection to the onset of the Holocaust against the European Jews by Nazi Germany and its collaborators, Mr Winston Churchill, the then prime minister of Britain, called the Holocaust as a “crime without a name” (Churchill, 2003a, p. 300): Famine and pestilence have yet to follow in the bloody ruts of Hitler’s tanks. We are in the presence of a crime without a name. (Churchill, 2003a, p. 300) Again, in his Never Give In! speech on 29 October 1941 at his alma mater, Harrow School, boys’ private boarding school, Prime Minister Churchill,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-1

2  Rituparna Bhattacharyya after listening to the traditional school hymns, narrated the continued struggle against the extermination and oppressive regime of Nazi Germany. He said: I am addressing myself to the School - surely from this period of ten months this is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never – in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. We stood all alone a year ago, and to many countries it seemed that our account was closed, we were finished. (Churchill, 2003b, p. 307) Although the Holocaust took place over seven and a half decades ago, there is ample evidence to suggest that the xenophobic or racist attitudes against the Jews and other races continue in the form of antisemitism and racism. While much has been discussed about the Holocaust and relatively small set of cases of other mass atrocities—the Armenian Genocide, Cambodia, Rwanda, and Bosnia; the process of xenophobia and mass atrocities/genocides in South Asia—even the major ones such as the violence during the partition of India and the 1971 war in Bangladesh, and other atrocities such as those against the Kashmiri Pandits; Anti-Sikh massacre of 1984; ethnic violence in Sri Lanka—remain outrageously understudied. Therefore, the central novelty of this transdisciplinary project is to bring to the fore the cases of mass atrocities/genocide alongside xenophobia. Even before World War II, the world had witnessed many violent deaths since prehistoric and historic times, including World War I. The attributes of violence (brutal and symbolic) often intersect with guises of power (with the geopolitics of either a nation or a community), prejudices, and hatred, producing the process of xenophobia, infrequently leading to mass violence (mass murder), ethnic cleansing, and (or) genocide. Different forms of cultural and/or political genocides have occurred in different geographical spaces. Nuanced scrutiny unravels that genocides and xenophobic incidents often bear roots in abuse of agents of power—despotism (including state power), imperialism, authoritarianism/totalitarianism, free trade, fascist, and racist attitudes. The following section devotes to understanding the notions of xenophobia and genocide. Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide The word ‘xenophobia’ is a Greek word derived from the word xeno, meaning foreigner or stranger, and phobia from the word phobos, meaning fear (Bordeau, 2010, p. 4), signalling “attitudes, prejudices and behavior that reject, exclude and often vilify persons, based on the perception that they are outsiders or foreigners to the community, society or national identity” (International Migration, Racism, Discrimination and Xenophobia, 2001,

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  3 p. 2; see also, Getmansky et al., 2018; Jylhä et al., 2019). In sum, xenophobia is an irrational fear or distrust of foreigners (Bordeau, 2010, p. 4; Getmansky et al., 2018; Jylhä et al., 2019; Smelser and Baltes, 2001).2 Scholars argue that xenophobia is different from the notion of racism. Racism is indeed the perception that a particular race is superior to the other based on genetic, indelible physiological characteristics (Bhattacharyya and Pulla, 2020; Law, 2012; Law et al., 2014; Law and Kovats, 2018; Pulla et al., 2020; Tate and Law, 2015; Zakharov and Law, 2017; also Dunn, 2003; Fisher, 2013). The perception of ‘superiority’ held by individuals or groups translates into behaviour and attitudes against other individuals or groups (Bordeau, 2010; Giddens, 2009). Scholars argue that the notion of xenophobia and racism are distinct, but both notions often imbricate when it becomes challenging to make a clear distinction between the two. Both racism and xenophobia are pervasive all over the place; however, its scale, nature, and patterns (individual, structural, institutional, xeno-racism, Islamophobia, and antisemitism) vary from place to place (Bhattacharyya and Pulla, 2020; Law 2012; Law et al., 2014; Law and Kovats, 2018; Pulla et al., 2020; Tate and Law, 2015; Zakharov and Law, 2017; also Dunn, 2003). For instance, apartheid in South Africa from 1948 to 1994 is an infamous form of institutional racism that fostered racial discrimination and segregation against the black majority (the Africans, the South Africans, and the people of colour). Seemingly, Brexit, too, perhaps falls into the definition of xeno-racism. The use of the word ‘foreigner’ in the definition of xenophobia can be problematic. This is because the case studies presented here demonstrate that the process of xenophobia is not against a foreign community but often against a community of the same nation/motherland, treating the community as ‘other’/‘outsider’ or foreigner based on prejudices and hatred linked to the hard work and superiority, religion, customs, or language of the ‘other’ community. For example, following the formation of Pakistan in 1947, racist and linguistic xenophobia kindled between West and East Pakistan communities. These communities belonged to Pakistani nationalism practising Islam but spoke different languages—Urdu in West Pakistan and Bengali/Bangla in East Pakistan. The middle-class Bengali Muslims of East Pakistan demanded Bangla be made one of the state languages of Pakistan. However, the Pakistan authorities based in West Pakistan nullified the demands on the ground that Bangla was an “un-Islamic language bearing its roots in Sanskrit” (Afzal, 2001; Das et al., 2022; Jahan, 2013, 2018; Maniruzzaman, 2003). This xenophobic and linguistic discrimination of the Pakistan government in treating the Bengali Muslims of East Pakistan as ‘foreigner’ seeded hatred, proliferating into the linguistic movement triggering genocide in the 1971 Liberation War of Bangladesh (Afzal, 2001; Das et al., 2022; Jahan, 2013, 2018; Maniruzzaman, 2003). Similarly, the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda, which lasted for more than 100 days, was rooted in Rwandan colonial history by Germany and Belgium, where the colonisers favoured the minority Tutsis (14%) over the majority

4  Rituparna Bhattacharyya Hutus (85%) (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; United Nations (UN), 1996), thereby stimulating the Hutu-Tutsi hate. The Hutus, based on their irrational fear, considered the Tutsis as others. Both Tutsi and Hutu communities belong to the same race, speak the same language, Kinyarwanda, adhere to the same culture, live in the same area, and follow the same religious faith, Christianity. Over time, the hatred fuelled by the colonisers transformed into xenophobia among the Hutus against the empowered Tutsis, which sparked ethnic cleansing, escalating to one of the world’s deadliest genocides (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020; McDoom, 2020; Meierhenrich, 2020; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Reydams, 2020; Verpoorten, 2005, 2020), killing six persons every minute (Chapter 12). The word ‘genocide’, a signature term of Raphaël Lemkin, a Polish jurist of Jewish descent, was coined in his book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe: Laws of Occupation, Analysis of Government, Proposals for Redress. Reading and recognising the plight and massacre of the Armenians by the Ottoman Empire during World War I, Lemkin developed an interest in war crimes in the 1920s. He became passionate about taking his interest forward after meticulous reading of the Soghomon Tehlirian homicide trial executing Mehmed Talaat aka Talaat Pasha, on 15 March 1921. However, Lemkin was petrified to find no international legislation to take legal action against the Ottoman leaders and bring the perpetrators to justice. Himself a survivor of the Holocaust, Lemkin lost 49 members of his family. Blending his agony with passion, Lemkin worked hard on recognising mass murder as an international crime. In Chapter IX of his book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe, titled “Genocide1. Genocide-A New Term and New Conception for Destruction of Nations”, Lemkin first defined the word ‘genocide’, which was borrowed from two words: “the ancient Greek word genos (race, tribe) and Latin cide (killing), thus corresponding in its formation to such words as tyrannicide, homicide, infanticide, etc.” (1944, p. 79). Alongside, Lemkin suggested another Greek term, ethnocide, which is a synonym for genocide; ethnos means a nation. Lemkin gave a detailed definition of the term ‘genocide’ (1944, p. 79): Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be [the] disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups. Genocide is directed against the national group as an entity, and the actions involved are directed against individuals, not in their individual

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  5 capacity, but as members of the national group…. Genocide has two phases: one, [the] destruction of the national pattern of the oppressed group; the other, the imposition of the national pattern of the oppressor. This imposition, in turn, may be made upon the oppressed population which is allowed to remain, or upon the territory alone, after removal of the population and the colonization of the area by the oppressor’s own nationals. (Lemkin, 1944, p. 79) In the wake of World War II, the Nuremberg trials (Nürnberger Prozesse in German) were conducted at Nuremberg, the second-largest city of the German state of Bavaria, between 20 November 1945 and 1 October 1946. Nuremberg trials, a saga of 13 trials, were conducted to prosecute the 24 high-profile masterminds, including the Führer and Chancellor of Germany, Adolf Hitler (20 April 1889–30 April 1945), who engaged in military, political, judicial, and economic wings of the Third Reich, planning, participating, and executing the Holocaust and other war crimes (Stiller, 2019). The use of the word ‘genocide’ became apparently conspicuous in the indictment process before the International Military Tribunal (IMT) and Nuremberg Military Tribunal (NMT). It even made a road to judgement (Stiller, 2019). However, the term was still applied as a descriptive term and not as a legal one to refer to crimes against humanity, particularly concerning persecution and murder (Stiller, 2019). Sir William Norman Birkett, 1st Baron Birkett, the alternate British judge who was present during the entire trial period, referred to IMT as ‘the greatest trial in history’ (Marrus, 1997, p. 563). In its 55th plenary meeting of 11 December 1946, genocide was recognised as a crime under international law by United Nations General Assembly. The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide3 classified it as an independent crime in the 1948 Genocide Convention, which was enforced on 12 January 1951 (Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, n.d.-a, n.d.-b). Evidently, by January 2018, 149 States ratified the Convention (Genocide, n.d.). Although Lemkin’s definition of genocide was extensive and subject to various analyses, but following the proceedings of Nuremberg, the genocide notion was scaled down to the “crime of direct and planned mass murder” (Stiller, 2019, p. 144). Article II of the Genocide Convention defines genocide as “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: a Killing members of the group; b Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; c Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; d Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;

6  Rituparna Bhattacharyya e Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.” (Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, n.d.-a, n.d.-b; Genocide, n.d.) Article I of the Genocide Convention outlines that “the crime of genocide may take place in the context of an armed conflict, international or non-international, but also in the context of a peaceful situation”, albeit the latter is uncommon but possible. This definition of the UN Genocide Convention is more than 75 years old. Social scientists too paid very little attention to the notion of genocide until the 1970s (Crowe, 2008; Shaw, 2015). This was, perhaps, because of the Cold War. Scholars emplace the definition of genocide of the 1948 Genocide Convention as a ‘benchmark’ (Shaw, 2015, p. 4); however, new and nuanced local challenges were witnessed in the Bangladesh genocide, 1971; Anti-Sikh massacre, 1984; Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits starting September 1989; Rwanda genocide, 1994; Crisis in the former Yugoslavia, referred to as “Yugosphere” (Slovenia, since 1991; Croatia, since 1991; North Macedonia, formerly Macedonia, since 1991; Bosnia and Herzegovina, since 1992; the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, Serbia, and Montenegro, 1992–2006; Montenegro, since 2006; Serbia, since 2006; Kosovo, since 2008, but independence disputed); and Darfur, Sudan Genocide, 2003 (Blum et al., 2008; Shaw, 2015). Table 1.1 outlines several crucial events linked to genocide, which are of course, not definitive. Of course, there are massive confusion and contestations between mass violence (killing), ethnic cleansing, and genocide because of the blurry boundaries that remain tangled within the concepts (BBC News, 2021; Rummel Rudolph, 1994; Shaw, 2015; Staub, 2011; Tago and Wayman, 2010; When to Refer to a Situation as “Genocide”, n.d.). Mass killing refers to the intent of killing the members of a group (without targeting a particular racial, religious, or ethnic group), usually bearing no motivation to obliterate the whole population of that specific group or exterminating a large population without an explicit definition of the membership of the group (Staub, 2011; Tago and Wayman, 2010). However, this explanation about mass killings appears vague. This is because the intent of the action is subjective and always questionable (Ott, 2011; Valentino, 2004). After all, intent could be a part of a hidden agenda and viciously propagandistic; even counting the victims’ characteristics could be misleading. Valentino (2004) argues that no consensus is an appropriate term to explain the large numbers of intentional non-combatant killings, usually not necessarily sponsored by a state or a government. Indeed, the definition of mass killing remains obscured by several competing notions—democide, classicide, politicide, and genocide (Rummel Rudolph, 1994; Valentino, 2004)—overlapping one another in its subtlety characteristics. However, scholars argue that the term ‘mass killing’ is usually less complicated when compared to genocide or politicide (Ott, 2011; Tago and Wayman, 2010).

Table 1.1  A Brief Overview of the Key Events Linked to Genocide Key Events Linked to Genocide

1900

As stated above, Raphaël Lemkin, a Polish-Jewish jurist, was born and later coined the term ‘genocide’. In his memoirs, Lemkin detailed the violence of Ottoman attacks against Armenians and other violence, such as anti-semitic pogroms and other group-targeted violence, calling for these groups’ legal safeguards. Rise of the Nazis under the leadership of Chancellor Adolf Hitler, who took control of Germany. Nazi hubris was reflected in their walkout from the Conference for the Reduction and Limitation of Armaments (also known as the World Disarmament Conference or Geneva Conference) held in Geneva, Switzerland, between February 1932 and November 1934 and withdrawal from the League of Nations, an international organisation, founded on 10 January 1920, headquartered in Geneva, which was created in the aftermath of World War I to solve international disputes. Raphaël Lemkin put forward legal measures to protect the targeted groups in an international legal conference held in Madrid, Spain, but failed to receive support. World War II kick-started on 01 September 1939. Germany invaded Poland. The Soviet Army counter-attacked and occupied the eastern part of Poland by 17 September 1939. Raphaël Lemkin found his way out of Poland via the Soviet Union to finally arrive in the US. Under Hitler’s leadership, on 22 June 1941, the Soviet Union was invaded by the Nazis. As stated above, in August 1941, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill labelled it as a ‘crime without a name’. In his 1944 book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe, Raphaël Lemkin coined the term genocide. Adolf Hitler committed suicide along with his wife, Eva Braun, on 30 April 1945. Nazi Germany surrendered, and Holocaust came to an end. Nuremberg trial, the International Military Tribunal, began on 20 November 1945 until 01 October 1946, where 22 foremost Nazi leaders were charged on various counts— conspiracies, war crimes, crimes against peace, and crimes against humanity. However, ‘genocide’ was used as a descriptive term in the indictment, not a legal one.

1933

1939 1941 1944 1945–1946

(Continued)

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  7

Year

Year

Key Events Linked to Genocide

1947–1951

Raphaël Lemkin was the key driver in begetting the debate on genocide before the delegates of the United Nations so that international law on genocide could be launched. On 9 December 1948, the delegates unanimously adopted the final text of the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide, which was enforced on 12 January 1951 following the ratification by more than 20 countries. The countries signing/ ratifying the Genocide Convention and other nuanced details are accessible at https://treaties.un.org/Pages/ ViewDetails.aspx?src=IND&mtdsg_no=IV-1&chapter=4&clang=_en. In 1947, undivided India (Bharat) was partitioned into India and Pakistan based on religious sub-nationalism. During the partition, communal violence ruptured, where a staggering number of civilians were displaced while millions were dead (see below). In West Punjab (currently in Pakistan), the Muslims slaughtered Hindus and Sikhs; in East Punjab (current Punjab) in India, the Hindus and Sikhs annihilated the Muslims. Similarly, in the eastern part of Bharat, after the Muslimmajority region became East Pakistan in 1947, xenophobia and communal violence erupted between Hindus and Muslims and continued in different forms and shapes (Chapters 7 and 8). Besides, from September to November 1947, the princely state of Jammu and Kashmir witnessed a massacre known as the Jammu massacre. This period of more than three and a half decades engaged in the Cold War, which had started as a rivalry between the US and the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), post–World War II till 1991, the time of dissolution of the Soviet Union. This period witnessed a colossal rate of crime against civilians across the globe. Some of the examples that created headlines—the 1948 Hyderabad massacre; the First Sudanese Civil War, or Anyanya Rebellion or Anyanya I, 18 August 1955–27 March 1972; the mass killings of 1965–1966, or Indonesian genocide; the Nigerian Civil War, or Biafran War (06 July 1967–15 January 1970); Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution in China under the leadership of Mao Zedong launched in 1966 till his death in 1976; American Combat Troops in the Vietnam War, 1965–1968; the US’s Bombardment of Kampuchea,1969–1973; Idi Amin Dada Oumee’s brutal regime in Uganda, 1971–1979; Bangladesh Liberation War, 1971 (Chapter, 9); mass killings of Hutus in Burundi, 1972; Paraguay, Guayaki Ache Indians Genocide, 1974; East Timor invaded by Indonesia (Operation Lotus), 1975; Cambodian genocide (17 April 1975–07 January 1979); Ethiopian Red terror or Qey Shibir or Kay Shibbir by ruling Dergue, 1976–1978; Argentina’s military coup d’état and military junta’s Dirty War (Guerra sucia) against guerrillas, 1976–1983; El Salvador Civil War, 15 October 1979–16 January 1992; Hama Massacre or Hama Uprising, in 1982, when Sunni Muslims were killed by Syrian Arab Army; Guatemala Genocide (or Maya Genocide or Silent Holocaust), 1982–1983; 1983 Nellie massacre (Chapter 7); the Second Sudanese Civil War, 05 June 1983–09 January 2005; Sri Lankan Civil War, 23 July

1948–1991

8  Rituparna Bhattacharyya

Table 1.1  (Continued)

1988 1991–2001

11 December 1994–31 August 1996

1994

(Continued)

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  9

1993

1983–19 May 2009 (Chapter 10); 1984 anti-Sikh massacre (Chapter 6); Anfal Genocide or Anfal campaign or Kurdish Genocide, 23 February 1988–06 September, 1988; Dissolution of former Soviet Union (former, USSR: Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), 16 November 1988–26 December 1991 vis-à-vis collapse of communism in Eastern Europe and the end of the Cold War. It is saddening to note that the majority of the countries engaged in heinous crimes against their civilians signed or ratified the Genocide convention; however, these countries least cared to investigate whether the crimes constituted genocide. For example, India had signed the Genocide Convention on 29 November 1949 and ratified it on 27 August 1959. However, there is no legislation on genocide. Perhaps, for the first time, in the Parliament of India on 08 February 2022, honourable Prime Minister, Mr Narendra Damodar Modi, recognised the 1984 anti-Sikh massacre and mass exodus and killings of Kashmiri Pandits as genocides. On 11 December 1948, the US signed the Geneva Convention, which was ratified on 25 November 1988. Former Yugoslavian Wars: Slovenian War of Independence (27 June–7 July 1991); Croatian War of Independence (31 March 1991–12 November 1995); Bosnian War (6 April 1992–14 December 1995), Kosovo War (28 February 1998–11 June 1999); Insurgency in the Preševo Valley (12 June 1999–01 June 2001); Insurgency in Macedonia (22 January–12 November 2001). Taking resolution 827 of the UN Security Council created the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in The Hague, which is the second international tribunal after the Nuremberg criminal tribunal. The key purpose of ICTY is to try and prosecute crimes gravely breaching the Geneva Convention. The First Chechen War or First Russian-Chechen War, also known as the First Chechen Campaign. Chechen was Sovietised in 1921 during the time of the Russian Civil War (7 November 1917–16 June 1923). Following the dissolution of the Soviet Union (USSR), the Chechen rebels declared independence in 1991. Deploying covert plans, the Russian Intelligence Services in November 1994 seized Grozny, the capital city of Chechen, intending to oust the Ichkerian government. The war, the First Battle of Grozny, broke out on 22 December 1994 and lasted till 6 March, albeit the First Russian-Chechen War, which started on 11 December 1994, continued for more than a year, that is, 1 year, 8 months, and 3 weeks. It ended on 31 August 1996 with a ceasefire (Khasavyurt Accord) by Boris Yeltsin’s government, signing a peace treaty known as Treaty of Moscow in 1997. Chechen–Russian conflict restarted in 1991, and the Russian army gained control over Grozny in February 2000. But the Russian government continued the battle to depose the Chechen leadership from Chechnya until 2017, incorporating Chechnya as the Terek Oblast, Russian Empire. Genocide in Rwanda (Chapter 12). Taking the mandate of the UN Security Council forward, International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) was founded on 8 November 1994 in Arusha, Tanzania.

Year

Key Events Linked to Genocide

1998

The International Criminal Court (ICC) was founded after adopting the Roman Statute, which was ratified by an international treaty on 17 July 1998, and came into force on 01 July 2002. Located in The Hague, Netherlands, the ICC is the first permanent international court, which has the authority to prosecute individuals for international crimes—war crimes, genocide, crimes against humanity, and the crime of aggression. Jean-Paul Akayesu, a former teacher, school inspector, and mayor of Taba commune in Gitarama prefecture was the first man to be convicted of life imprisonment on 15 counts of Rwandan genocide—crimes against humanity, ethnic persecution, murder, torture, and rape under ICTR on 2 September 1998 and apprehended on 10 October (see below and Chapter 12). Currently, he is serving his sentence in Benin. Earlier, Julius Streicher (1885–1946) at Nuremberg International Military Tribunal faced conviction on four counts of crimes against humanity and was hanged to death on 16 October 1946 for spreading hatred and violence during World War II through his racist and anti-semitic newspaper, Der Stürmer. On 11 April 1961, Otto Adolf Eichmann (19 March 1906–01 June 1962), who was an Obersturmbannführer (senior assault-unit leader, lieutenant colonel), German Nazi Party (NSDAP) faced trial before a special tribunal, Jerusalem District Court, on 15 counts and found guilty of all charges—war crimes, crimes against humanity, crimes against the Jewish, and for being a member of a criminal organisation. He faced execution on 01 June 1962. Mengistu Haile Mariam (21 May 1937–), the chairperson of the Derg and Head of State of Ethiopia (1977–1991) and former president of the People’s Democratic Republic of Ethiopia (PDRE) (1987–1991), was indicted for genocide in absentia by the government of Ethiopia under the leadership of Meles Zenawi for Mengistu’s alleged criminal activities—1976–1978 (Red Terror) and 1983–1985 (1983–1985 famine in Ethiopia)—killing approximately 2,000 people and acts of illegal imprisonment, homicide, and confiscation of property. His trial began in 1994 and ended in 2006 with a life sentence, which was upgraded to a death sentence in absentia in 2008 by Ethiopia High Court. The East Timorese crisis was where East Timorese gained victory by defeating pro-Indonesian militia. On 02 August, Radislav Krstić (15 February 1948–), General Major, Bosnian Serb Army and commander of the Drina Corps, was the first person to be convicted of genocide of approximately 8,000 Bosniak prisoners of war and civilians on 11 July 1995 at the ICTY, facing 46 years of imprisonment, which was later reduced to 35 years.

1998

1999–2005 2001

10  Rituparna Bhattacharyya

Table 1.1  (Continued)

Key Events Linked to Genocide

2002

Slobodan Milosevic (20 August 1941–11 March 2006), former president of Serbia within Yogoslavia, 1989–1997 and former president, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, 1997–2000. When still in office, ICTY had indicted him in May 1999 of war crimes linked to the Bosnian War, Croatian War, and Kosovo War. However, his charges of war crimes were upgraded to gravely breaching Genocide Convention. On 12 February 2002, his trial began at The Hague; Slobodan Milosevic, himself a student of the law, defended himself, but passed away before the trial could be completed. On 06 May, the US unsigned the ICC under the leadership of the then president George W Bush. Currently, approximately 139 countries are signatories of the Rome Statute; however, 118 countries have ratified the document, signalling that these countries want to apply the ICC in their countries. The countries who have signed/ratified the ICC can be accessible at: https://treaties.un.org/Pages/ViewDetails. aspx?src=TREATY&mtdsg_no=XVIII-10&chapter=18&clang=_en On 23 February, mass murder and systematic killing started against the people of Darfuri ethnicity, and the conflict continues still in Darfur, the Western part of Sudan Former field marshal President Al-Bashir (01 January 1944–) of Sudan was indicted by the ICC in March 2009 on charges of mass killing, pillage, and rape against Darfur civilians. The Government of Sudan agreed to hand him over for trial to ICC on 11 February 2020. The brutal violence committed by the self-proclaimed Islamic State (Isis) in Syria and Iraq was declared genocide by the US secretary of state, John Kerry, on 17 March. On 24 February, Russia invaded Ukraine. Is this apocalypse heading towards a genocide? Based on their investigation into the Ukrainian situation, Mr Karim Khan, the ICC prosecutor, asserted a reasonable basis to believe that crimes against humanity and war crimes have been committed in Ukraine by Russia. However, President Jo Biden has already labelled this as genocide.

2002

2003– 2009– 2016 2022

Sources: BBC News (2018); Clayton (2006); Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (n.d.-a, n.d.-b); Genocide Timeline (n.d.); Holpuch (2016); Joseph (2017); King (2008); Ling (2022); Műnzel (1974); Office of the Prosecutor (2022); The Kurdish Genocide Achieving Justice through EU Recognition (n.d.); Sengupta (2013); Siddique (2022); Spencer (2012); Tisdall (2022).

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  11

Year

12  Rituparna Bhattacharyya Nonetheless, scholars of genocide studies initially put forward the term ‘mass killing’ to collect a global database of genocidal events and recognise and build statistical models to prognosticate the genesis of mass killings (Ott, 2011; Tago and Wayman, 2010). The word ‘ethnic cleansing’ gained momentum during the Yugoslavic wars in the 1990s following the persecution and attacks on Bosnian Muslims and Kosovo Albanians by the Serbians (Blum et al., 2008; Ethnic Cleansing in Kosovo: An Accounting, 1999; Ethnic Cleansing, n.d.; Shaw, 2015). It is derived from the phrase etničko čišćenje, which is Serbo-Croatian (Ethnic Cleansing, n.d.), referring to the act of coerced eviction of a targeted group from a particular geographical territory or geopolitical space, situating deportation, forced emigration, or genocide (Blum et al., 2008). Apartheid and Holocaust are considered notorious examples of ethnic cleansing. Under the statutes of both ICC and ICTY, ethnic cleansing is not recognised as an independent crime but constitutes a crime against humanity4 and falls under the parasol of the Genocide Convention (Blum et al., 2008; Case of Jorgic V. Germany, 2007; Ethnic Cleansing, n.d.; Shaw, 2015). The Question is, Where to Draw the Line?

However, theorisations of these terms are beyond the scope of the project. Regardless of whether it is mass killing, ethnic cleansing, or genocide, any brutal war violence (including wartime sexual violence against gender) is of appallingly proportionate equivalence amounting to gross violations of human rights and arguably constitutes crimes against humanity and prosecuted as genocides(Blum et al., 2008; Shaw, 2015). Another critical question that arises here is whether gender-based violence is a form of genocide. The following section is an attempt to analyse the same. Genocide: A Form of Gender-Based Violence It remains well documented that all types of barbaric ventures of war crimes ensconce various forms of gender-based violence (GBV) as a sexualised weapon of war. However, this subject remains highly under-researched in academia (Breathnach and O’Halpin, 2021; Ellis, 2006/2007; RussellBrown, 2003; Sharlach, 2000). Of course, ‘GBV’, a public health issue, is an umbrella term encompassing a whole host of gendered violence (physical— beating, pushing, strangling, and the use of weapons; sexual—verbal, physical, or even non-verbal sexual conduct; rapes; gang rapes, trafficking and forced prostitution; female genital mutilation; forced marriage; online violence) (Bhattacharyya, 2021, 2015; Bjåstad, 2008; Heise et al., 2002; Morrison et al., 2007; Muluneh et al., 2020; Reed et al., 2010; Terry and Hoare, 2007). Scholars argue that GBV often overlooks mutual aggression and perpetration by the female in intimate partner violence or domestic violence, accusing

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  13 the ‘male’ or sometimes falsely accusing the male as the sole perpetrator of GBV (Reed et al., 2010; see also, Avieli, 2021; Bates, 2019, 2020; Bhattacharyya, 2020–2021). Therefore, gender is inappropriately represented in the concept of GBV. However, this chapter fails to dive deep into this argument simply to avoid straying from the rationale of the chapter. GBV, as a tool during wartime, is used to imbue fear and terror aimed at obliterating the targeted ethnic group either by coerced eviction and (or) by leaving little or no room for the community to return (please refer to Dr Gregory H. Stanton’s Stage 9 in Table 1.1). Arguably, GBV is not an offshoot of war but a premeditated and intended blueprint of actions aimed at gaining control by paralysing the targeted ethnic community alongside destroying the family progeny (Bhattacharyya, 2013, 2018; Smith-Spark, 2004). However, GBV in wars/genocides was either ignored or was considered as an inevitable aspect of war crimes (Bhattacharyya, 2018; Haffajee, 2006; Hossain et al., 2014; Russell-Brown, 2003) until the post-1994 Rwanda genocide. ICTR recognised rape and sexual violence as acts of genocide and convicted Jean-Paul Akayesu, former mayor of Taba, of rape and sexual violence against the Taba Commune during the Rwanda genocide (Amnesty International, 2004; see Chapter 12). As stated in Table 1.1, Jean-Paul Akayesu was indeed the first person to be convicted of rape and gender-based sexual violence as crimes of genocide. The ICTR Jean-Paul Akayesu judgement (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998) defines rape and sexual violence as: a physical invasion of a sexual nature committed on a person under circumstances which are coercive. The Tribunal considers sexual violence, which includes rape, as any act of a sexual nature which is committed on a person under circumstances which are coercive. Sexual violence is not limited to physical invasion of the human body and may include acts which do not involve penetration or even physical contact. The incident described by Witness KK in which the Accused ordered the Interahamwe to undress a student and force her to do gymnastics naked in the public courtyard of the bureau communal, in front of a crowd, constitutes sexual violence. The Tribunal notes in this context that coercive circumstances need not be evidenced by a show of physical force. Threats, intimidation, extortion and other forms of duress which prey on fear or desperation may constitute coercion, and coercion may be inherent in certain circumstances, such as armed conflict or the military presence of Interahamwe among refugee Tutsi women at the bureau communal. Sexual violence falls within the scope of “other inhumane acts”, set forth Article 3(i) of the Tribunal’s Statute, “outrages upon personal dignity,” set forth in Article 4(e) of the Statute, and “serious bodily or mental harm,” set forth in Article 2(2)(b) of the Statute. (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998, para 688)

14  Rituparna Bhattacharyya Para 687 of this judgement admitted the following: The Tribunal considers that rape is a form of aggression and that the central elements of the crime of rape cannot be captured in a mechanical description of objects and body parts. The Tribunal also notes the cultural sensitivities involved in public discussion of intimate matters and recalls the painful reluctance and inability of witnesses to disclose graphic anatomical details of sexual violence they endured. (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998, para 687) Although wartime sexual violence was constituted as a criminal act since the second international peace treaty,5 The Hague Convention of 1907, it failed to end impunity. For instance, neither the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg prosecuted the sexual violence perpetrators of World War II nor the Tokyo Tribunal took the Japanese army’s matter of slavery and sexual exploitation of “comfort women” sternly (Crimes of Sexual Violence, n.d.). Nevertheless, the wartime sexual violence against women and children gained momentum in the Genocide Convention, yet it remained a ‘theory’ until ICTR and ICTY brought the matter into the trial rooms of the courts. As of September 2016, ICTY charged more than 78 high-profile individuals out of 161 accused, which is 48%, for committing wartime crimes of sexual violence, including assault and rape, out of which 32 were convicted (In Numbers, n.d.; Landmark cases, n.d.). Some of these high-profile individuals are—Duško Tadić, former local board president of the Bosnian Serb Democratic Party; Anto Furundžija, the commander of the Jokers, a wing of the Croatian Defence Council (HVO) in BiH; three Bosnian Serb army officers: Dragoljub Kunarac, Zoran Vuković, and Radomir Kovač (In Numbers, n.d.; Landmark cases, n.d.). Ratko Mladic, former Bosnian Serb military chief, nicknamed the butcher of Bosnia, has been convicted of two genocidal counts and nine war crimes and crimes against humanity during the 1992–1995 Bosnia War (8 June 2021—Final Verdict Against Ratko Mladic, 2021). Nonetheless, in many conflict zones worldwide, the perpetrators committing brutal crimes that constitute crimes against humanity and sexual violence continue to revel in impunity (Bhattacharyya, 2013, 2018; Haffajee, 2006; Hossain et al., 2014). This study does not focus on the geopolitics of prosecution of wartime GVB; Chapters 9 (genocide during the Bangladesh Liberation War, 1971) and 12 (1994 Rwanda genocide), however, discuss the plights of the women and children as victimisation of genocides. While the chapters of this book consider the definition of genocide as put forward by the UN Genocide Convention as the yardstick, it also considers the ten stages of genocide as put forward by Dr Gregory H. Stanton, president Genocide Watch, who was a research professor in Genocide Studies and Prevention at the School for Conflict Analysis and Resolution at George

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  15 Mason University, Arlington, Virginia, USA (2010–2019). Founder of the Cambodian Genocide Project, Dr Stanton served in the US State Department (1992–1999), when he presented a brief communication titled The 8 Stages of Genocide6 in 1996 in the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide to the United States Department of State. In this communication, Dr Stanton argued that the stages are predictable but not inexorable. At each stage, preventive measures can stop it. The process is not linear. Stages may occur simultaneously. Each stage is itself a process. Logically, later stages are preceded by earlier stages. But all stages continue to operate throughout the process.7 Dr Stanton added two more stages to its 1996 genocide model in 2012—discrimination and persecution (Table 1.2). Chapter Overviews This volume is a dedication of 11 Chapters examining the case studies of some of the lesser-known, or even unknown, as well as some of the popular cases of xenophobia and genocides that had taken place in India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, South Africa, and Rwanda. Four of the chapters (Chapters 4, 7, 11, and 12) have applied Dr Gregory H. Stanton’s ten stages to genocide to demonstrate the cases of xenophobia and genocides in their case studies. In the wake of the promulgation of the Citizenship Amendment Act (known popularly as CAA), 2019 in the Parliament of India, in December 2019 (The Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, 2019), and driven by polarisation and (mis)information, the country witnessed a volatile situation igniting xenophobia, protests, mass movements all over the country. CAA aims to grant citizenship to illegal migrants from three Muslim-majority countries— Afghanistan, Bangladesh, and Pakistan, practising six different religions— Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, Parsis, and Christians, who entered India on or before 31 December 2014. To qualify for naturalised citizenship, one of the key clauses of CAA is that the migrants must supply proof of their residency in the country for the past five years. This is indeed a relaxation from the initial requirement of 11 years. In addition, these illegal migrants must produce proof of either residing in the country or have been a central government employee for the past 12 months. India’s Citizenship Act of 1955 was amended and introduced in the Lok Sabha8 as Citizenship Amendment Bill (CAB) in 2016. Earlier, on 7 January 2019, the Joint Parliamentary Committee submitted its report, and on 08 January 2019 the Lok Sabha passed the CAB, which, however, lapsed due to the dissolution of the 16th Lok Sabha. The ripples of the protests were also flamed in different parts of the world— the US, the UK, Singapore—mainly by the diasporic communities of India. The protests turned ugly in many cities in India, inciting riots and brutal violence. Taking these backdrops into context, Chapters 2 and 3 critically analyse the violence stemming from CAA protests. The analysis unfolds how the notion of (anti)nationalism was played out using the xenophobic sword under

Stage 1

Stage 2

Stage 3

Stage 4

Stage 5

CLASSIFICATION

Here, the people are classified based on their colour, religion, language, and race, leading to disrespect for the differences between the people. These differences trigger divisions—‘us’ and ‘them’—German and Jew, Hutu and Tutsi, Hindu and Muslim, Christian and Muslim, Assamese and Bengali. Arguably, such classification ignites xenophobia. SYMBOLISATION In this stage, symbols or names are nestled to identify the differences between the people based on their classification. For instance, under Nazi Germany, the Jewish people were coerced to wear the yellow star (and other symbols). Similarly, the genocidal campaign of the Khmer Rouge used the blue scarf to identify people and murder. In Rwanda, the disclosure of ethnic origin via the introduction of identity cards during the Belgium Colonial rule played a crucial role in developing fissures and xenophobic hate between the Hutus and Tutsis, escalating ethnic conflict first, further aggravating to genocide. *NEW* Here, the dominant group tries to nullify the rights of the other groups via the law, customs, and DISCRIMINATION political power. For example, the 1935 Nuremberg Laws of Nazi Germany stripped the German citizenship of the Jews and prohibited them from being employed in government and university jobs. Another recent example fitting this stage are the minority Rohingya Muslims, who were denied citizenship in Myanmar. DEHUMANISATION At this stage, the political significance of the citizens/people is reduced to ‘bare life’ (naked life) (Agamben, 1998, please see below), thereby stripping their human rights away and equating them with animals, insects, vermin, or diseases. In Nazi Germany, the Jews were referred to as vermin, and during the Rwandan Genocide, the Tutsis were referred to as ‘cockroaches’. At this stage, xenophobia accompanied by hate propaganda is usually propounded by various media platforms (print, radios, television, and social media) employed to denigrate the targeted group. For example, Chapter 2 demonstrates how social media propagated xenophobic hate between the Hindus and the Muslim communities over the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), 2019 (The Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, 2019), triggering the Delhi riots (Chapter 3) and riots in other parts of the country. In the 1994 Rwandan genocide, the Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM) and the Kangura, the print media, played critical roles in spreading xenophobia, hate, and rumours against the Tutsis (Chapter 12). ORGANISATION Usually, the genocides are state-sponsored and organised well in advance, deploying trained and armed militias and denying state responsibility.

16  Rituparna Bhattacharyya

Table 1.2  10 Stages to Genocide

POLARISATION

Stage 7

PREPARATION

Stage 8

*NEW* PERSECUTION

Stage 9

EXTERMINATION

Stage 10 DENIAL

Hate groups disseminate disinformation. While the German Nazis used Der Stürmer newspaper to spread and incite xenophobic hate messages against the Jewish, as discussed in Stage 4, RTLM and Kangura propagated hate messages and xenophobic attitudes against the Tutsis. The so-called Final Solution is prepared by the national or group of perpetrators in leadership roles, often using intentional euphemisms goals harbouring the continuum of violence to destroy the targeted groups in the guise of “ethnic cleansing”, “purification”, or “counter-terrorism”. At this stage, the group leadership of the perpetrators and their followers identify the victims based on their religious or ethnic identity and either segregate them into ghettoes, and deporting them into concentration camps, or confine them into famine-struck regions, deliberately depriving them of the basic needs and resources—food, water, clothing, electricity, and heating. The most glaring and recent example includes the ongoing Russian-Ukraine War, which has emerged as an apocalyptic with no power, heat, or water supply (Reuter, 2022; The New York Times, 2022), and the residents of the country have been stripped off from their basic human rights and dehumanised where thousands have been killed like insects and animals. Simultaneously, the perpetrators develop death lists. As discussed above in Stage 2, in state-sponsored genocides, the targeted groups are often coerced to identify themselves with some form of symbols (symbolisation). Very often, the properties of these victims are expropriated. Programs like forced sterilisation or abortions are implemented to prevent procreation. There remains a heightened risk of children being forcibly separated from their parents, which are arguably genocidal acts aimed at intentional destruction of a group or a part of a group. The perpetrators, of course, wait for responses and retaliation from the international communities. Upon realisation that the international communities are simply mute spectators, the perpetrators continue their crimes against humanity and genocide. For instance, the 1994 Rwandan Genocide and the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War. At this stage, mass killing inflamed by extermination is legally referred to as “genocide”. The perpetrators regard acts of this stage as “extermination” because they fail to consider the target group as human beings. Already the dead bodies of the target groups are dismembered; as discussed above, rape and other forms of GBV are used as wartime assets to eliminate the whole group either genetically or eradicate the targeted group (see ‘Genocide against Kashmiri Pandits’, Chapter 4; ‘Rwandan Genocide’, Chapter 12) At this stage, the perpetrators (or the state) play the blame game by denying that they committed a crime amounting to genocide but often blame the victims for becoming the targets.

Sources: The Ten Stages of Genocide. http://genocidewatch.net/genocide-2/8-stages-of-genocide/; Holocaust Memorial Day Trust. https://www.hmd.org.uk/ learn-about-the-holocaust-and-genocides/what-is-genocide/the-ten-stages-of-genocide/

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  17

Stage 6

18  Rituparna Bhattacharyya the marquee of CAA protests. While in Chapter 2, titled Nationalisms on(the) line: New Media and the Fanning of Fear and Xenophobia, Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi illustrate the growing fear and xenophobia over CAA on social media sites—Facebook and WhatsApp, in Chapter 3, titled The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot – New Delhi, 2020, Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta, a journalist by profession, reports systematically about the riot-stricken north-east Delhi from his own experiences of personally witnessing how and why the violence unfolded as well as collecting data from the localities complemented by media reports. In so doing, he presents the biasedness of Delhi police in the riot investigation. Nevertheless, India has seen many incidents of xenophobia and genocides during its pre-independent and post-independent periods. While some of the incidents were known to the outside world, others continue to remain either hidden or not adequately mediated and communicated. Undivided India’s partition into India and Pakistan in 1947 (Das et al., 2022) triggered communal violence recording an unprecedented number of displaced refugees—while around 14 to 20 million faced displacement, approximately 200,000 to 2,000,000 people lost their lives (Chapter 3: Rupture in South Asia, 2000; Sengupta, 2013; Talbot and Singh, 2009; Zamindar, 2013). This is a genocide on its own scale, breadth, and intensity. It is worth mentioning here that under Dr Guneeta Singh Bhalla’s leadership in Berkeley, California, and a registered trust in Delhi, the 1947 Partition Archive was launched in 2010 aimed at archiving the tales of xenophobia and genocide of the 1947 partition of undivided India (Bhattacharyya, 2023). A few other genocides during the pre- and post-partition era are: 1946 Calcutta communal violence or Direct Action Day (15 August–17 September 1946), which killed 7,000–10,000 Hindus and Muslims (Sengupta, 2006); 1946 Noakhali genocide (September–October) of East Bengal killing 5,000 Hindus (Sinha and Dasgupta, 2011, pp. 278–280). In retaliation to Calcutta and Noakhali killings, the Bihar massacre (30 October–7 November 1946) was triggered, which killed 2,000–3,000 Muslims, and the Garhmukteshwar Anti-Muslim Violence (November 1946), located in the present Hapur district of Uttar Pradesh, killed 214 Muslims (Pandey, 2001, pp. 94–98). Two other massacres that occurred just after India’s partition were the Jammu massacres of September to November 1947, located in the then princely state of Jammu and Kashmir, that killed 20,000–100,000 civilians belonging to Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs and the 1948 Hyderabad massacre that left between 27,000 and 40,000 civilians dead (Das and Bhusan, 1968; Thomson, 2013). Evidently, based on classification (Hindus vs Muslims and vice versa), symbolisations and discrimination, victims, as political objects, were placed at the margins of the political order, excluded, and dehumanised—abandoned to violence (including sovereign violence) (The Ten Stages of Genocides), reducing them simply to the level of killable bodies (death)— bare life (naked life) (see Agamben, 1998).

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  19 In his book, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, Giorgio Agamben (1998) deployed the notion of homo sacer, signalling a sacred human under Roman law who cannot be sacrificed but killed. Simultaneously, Agamben (1998) repositioned two ancient Greek terms—zoē (biological life) and bios (political life legitimising social life) in order to place his notion of ‘bare life’ in between the two—at the intersection of sovereign power and biopower. Taking the cue from Michel Foucault’s thesis on biopolitics discussed in the History of Sexuality (Foucault, 1978 [1976]) and the notion of ‘exception’ from Carl Schmitt’s (1888–1985, the right-wing political philosopher—the infamous German jurist, the supporter and intellectual party worker of the Nazis) book entitled Politische Theologie (Political Theology), Agamben (1998) argues that the main activity of sovereign power is the construction of the biopolitical body. Though ‘bare life’ is an object of marginalisation of political order, yet ‘bare life’ is a critical object of political calculation grounded in the praxis of ‘exception’ underpinned by sovereign power manifesting the state of ‘sovereign exception’ (Agamben, 1998). Schmitt (1922) asserted that exception emerges from sovereignty rather than sovereign power stemming from exception. Bare life is thus socially produced where ‘bio power’ exerts control, oppression, and subjugation over the individual body (Foucault, 1978[1976]). And ‘sovereign power’ beset in ‘sovereign exception’ (Schmitt, 1922), devoid of its legal status and rights, pushes the individual body to colonise in the juridical-legal threshold, thereby exposing it to sovereign violence and death (Agamben, 1998). The ingredients of biopower and exception can be witnessed in the episodes of genocides, where the ‘bare life’ remains the key protagonist. Taking the ten stages of Genocide and the 1948 Genocide Convention into context, it is perhaps that Russia has violated the international court of law in the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War, signalling that the crime and the intent of the war could possibly be addressed as genocide. In the words of Agamben, the soldiers of both Ukraine and Russia and the Ukrainian civilians are ‘bare lives’ and are ‘homines sacri’ (Agamben, 1998, p. 115). As discussed above, in his fiery speech in the Parliament of India on 08 February 2022, honourable Prime Minister Mr Narendra Damodar Modi criticised the opposition Congress on many socio-economic issues and problems that the country witnessed during the rule of Congress (India Today, 2022; Republic World, 2022). Among the many problems, the prime minister argued that had there been no Congress, then there would have been no exodus and killings of Kashmiri Pandits from Kashmir and the 1984 Sikh genocide (India Today, 2022; Republic World, 2022). However, one must acknowledge that there is very little research on the genocides of Kashmiri Pandits and the 1984 anti-Sikh massacre. The princely state of Jammu and Kashmir acceded to the Union of India under the Jammu and Kashmir Instrument of Accession, which was signed on 26 October 1947 between Maharaja Hari Singh (king of Jammu and Kashmir) and Lord Louis Mountbatten (dominion of India). Although the

20  Rituparna Bhattacharyya Accession Treaty was sealed and became effective on 27 October 1947, the Kashmir territory has been reeling in the conflict—mainly between India, Pakistan, and China. While the Azad Kashmir region is under the administration of Pakistan, the Line of Control separates it from the greater geographical portion of the Kashmir territory (Jammu, the Kashmir Valley, Ladakh, the Siachen Glacier), which comprises currently9 the union territories of Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh and under the administration of the Government of India. Pakistan is claiming the Indian portion of the territory based on the rationale that it is a Muslim-majority region. Another player in this dispute is China, who wants to claim uninhabited areas of Shaksgam Valley and Aksai Chin (Chinoy, 2020; Sering, 2013). Directed and written by Vivek Agnihotri and produced by Zee Studios, The Kashmir Files, a 170-minute 2022 Bollywood fictional film, is perhaps the first film to depict the genocidal brutalities against the Kashmiri Pandits who were compelled to leave the valley amidst the rise of militancy and Islamisation in Kashmir in the 1980s (Aljazeera, 2022; Kashmiri Pandits Exodus, 2022; Pulla, 2022; The Kashmir Files, 2022). In Chapter 4, applying Gregory Stanton’s ten Stages of Genocide, Kulbhushan Warikoo has given a detailed account of the genocide of Kashmiri Pandits. Nevertheless, amidst genocide and the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, the breeding ground of growing insurgency posed a heightening challenge to the state administration and was declared a ‘disturbed area’ for which the Armed Forces (Jammu and Kashmir) Special Powers Act 1990 was promulgated in Jammu and Kashmir on 10 September 1990 (Bhattacharjee, 2015; Bhattacharyya, 2018; Ganai, 2021).10 Known in short form as AFSPA, the components of this piece of legislation are draconian and colonial because they give an officer of the armed forces the power to conduct search operations or arrest anyone without a warrant. AFSPA also allows an official the license to rape, kill, or fire  upon mere suspicion but enjoy the power to have legal immunity (Bhattacharyya, 2018). In the wake of the Malom massacre, Irom Chanu Sharmila, Mengoubi or Iron Lady of Manipur, sat on a hunger strike on 4 November 2000, demanding the revocation of AFSPA (Bhattacharyya, 2018; Devi et al., 2020; Sharma, 2014). After 16 years of hunger strike, Sharmila decided to end her strike on 09 August 2016 to contest the assembly election of Manipur (Bhattacharyya, 2018), where she failed to win. Indeed, AFSPA operates as a normative ‘state of exception’ in Jammu and Kashmir and parts of North East India, where the civilians are ‘homines sacri’—subjected to sovereign violence and ‘exposed to death’ (Agamben, 1998), reporting a high number of casualties. Based on the official figures released in 2008, there were reported deaths of 47,000 (including 7,000 deaths of armed and police personnel) and 34,000 disappearance cases since 1989 (Reuters, 2008). However, these figures are highly disputed, but savagery cannot be nullified (Bhattacharyya, 2018; Hindustan Times, 2017). In Chapter 5, titled Narratives, Violence and Consent: The Normalization of State Violence in Jammu and Kashmir, Devika Mittal narrates how state

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  21 violence has been legitimised in Jammu and Kashmir under the model of AFSPA as an exception. Her chapter examines how the knowledge of legitimisation of state violence is constructed and disseminated via national curriculum and media. Mittal argues that state violence in Jammu and Kashmir is a demand for secession embedded in Kashmiri sub-nationalism. And the administration’s counter-response to these demands bears xenophobic characteristics. Chapter 6, titled Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide? Framing and Naming the Anti-Sikh Violence of Delhi 1984 by Silvia Tieri, is a detailed discussion of the Sikh massacre stemming from a cataclysmic surge in violence in the aftermath of the then Prime Minister Mrs Indira Gandhi’s assassination by her bodyguards, who were Sikhs (Joseph, 2017; Kaur, 2006). Between 31 October and 3 November 1984, the hierarchies of state actors unleashed violence against its ‘homines sacri’ (Agamben, 1998)—the Sikhs dwelling in various geographical spaces—mainly Delhi, Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Bihar were dehumanised—exposed to forms of looting, mass murder, gang rape, arson, immolation, and acid throwing. The number of casualties as per the statistics of the Government of India stands at 3,350, but independent estimates nullify this figure, and argue that approximately 8,000 to 17,000 Sikhs died during this massacre; around 20,000 escaped from these locations, and about 1,000 faced displacement (Ghosh, 2013, 2018; Pillalamarri, 2014). The state of Assam has witnessed a chequered history of (il)legal migration from the densely populated erstwhile East Pakistan. The (il)legal migration flow from Bangladesh continued after India gained independence in 1947. Post the annexation of undivided Assam by the British Colonialism following the Treaty of Yandabo in 1826, Assam was incorporated as a part of the Bengal Presidency (1826–1873), also known as the Presidency of Fort William or Bengal Province, a subdivisional administrative unit of the British Raj. Bengal Presidency made Bangla an official language, language of the courts, and a medium of instruction in the educational institutions of Assam in 1836 (Bhattacharyya, 2023). For smooth operations of administrative, professional positions, and school teachers, the British brought in educated Bengalis. However, these actions unlatched a floodgate for the Bengalispeaking people, particularly the Muslim peasantry, to migrate to the fertile lands of the Brahmaputra Valley. The culmination—migration of Bengalis and imposition of Bengali as the language of offices, courts, and educational institutions—unfolded trepidation among the local Assamese sprouting yoke of xenophobic attitudes against the Bengalis and a language movement. Indeed, the Assam Agitation (1979–1985), the Nellie massacre of 1983, the National Registrar of Citizens (NRC), and the protests against CAA 2019 reflect xenophobic attitudes. Taking these into context, in Chapter 7, titled Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?, Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma apply the phrase silent genocide to examine whether the increase of Bengali migrants has altered the demographic profile

22  Rituparna Bhattacharyya of the state. If so, has it posed a socio-cultural, religious, and linguistic threat to the people of Assam? In Chapter 8, ‘Recovering Violent Pasts’: Revisiting Moments of Xenophobic Violence and Uprooting from Partitioned North-east India, Binayak Dutta revisits the violent history of the partition of undivided India into India and Pakistan. His discussion is devoted to East Pakistan and current North East India, taking Assam as the partition site. In so doing, he has discussed how the 1947 Sylhet referendum laid the violent xenophobic foundation, where civilians were dehumanised and exposed to vicious violence in both physical (arson, looting, beating, murder) and economic forms. Besides, the author argues that the newly formed Pakistan government laid the policy of economic genocide against the minorities (scheduled castes and indigenous communities) dwelling in Sylhet. Furthermore, the Khasi-Jaintia tribes of current Meghalaya faced hardships following the sealing of the international Indo-Pak border as they were heavily dependent on supplies (mainly rice and salt) from Sylhet. Similar other arguments on violence and economic genocide are discussed in this chapter. The author argues that the xenophobic attitudes that laid the foundation during the partition continue even in present North-East India in the form of CAA and NRC. As discussed above, in the aftermath of the creation of Pakistan in 1947, racist and linguistic xenophobia burgeoned amongst the communities of West and East Pakistan as Urdu was made the official language of the Dominion of Pakistan in 1948. The Bengali community of East Pakistan asserted Bengali identity and Bangla Creole, provoking the Linguistic movement (Afzal, 2001; Das et al., 2022; Jahan, 2013, 2018; Maniruzzaman, 2003). When the Linguistic movement reached its zenith, it transpired into the 1971 Liberation War of Bangladesh, taking the shape of genocide (Afzal, 2001; Das et al., 2022; Jahan, 2013, 2018; Maniruzzaman, 2003). Applying Benedict Anderson’s notion of ‘creole nationalism’ and ‘imagined communities’ (Anderson, 1983) embedded in both primary and secondary data, Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque, in Chapter 9, Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh, demonstrate the causes of the war vis-à-vis genocide in Sylhet city of Bangladesh. Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan, in Chapter 10, titled Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka: Politics of Sinhala-Tamil Tensions examine the 26-year protracted Sri Lankan Civil War that began on 23 July 1983 until May 2009. Velupillai Prabhakaran launched an insurgency called Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE, also known as the Tamil Tigers) against the Sri Lankan government on 23 July 1983 due to the state-sponsored violence and persecution by Sinhalese mobs against the Tamils. The LTTE aimed to build Tamil Eelam, an independent Tamil state northeast of Sri Lanka. The authors argue that because of the cloudy nature and blurred information about the war, it remains highly contested whether violence in Sri Lanka is labelled as genocide or a simply successful anti-militancy operation. Nevertheless, perhaps, no one can rescind the preparation, discrimination, and dehumanisation of the

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  23 civilians. Two reports—2011 and 2012—from the United Nations estimate about 40,000 civilian deaths while about 70,000 remain unaccounted for.11,12 The penultimate chapter, titled Chapter 11, Xenophobia in South Africa – Can this Morph into Genocide? Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon apply Gregory Stanton’s ten stages of genocide to discuss how xenophobia in South Africa remains a perennial issue, rarely transmuting to the genocidal massacre. In so doing, the authors have critically analysed migrant labour and undocumented migration, the role of the media in disseminating misinformation and xenophobia, and how these have escalated xenophobic violence. The final chapter, titled Chapter 12: 1994 Rwanda Holocaust— A Critical Analysis of Xenophobia Mutating to Genocide against the Tutsi by Rituparna Bhattacharyya, Venkat Rao Pulla, Charles Kalinganire, and Gaspard Rwanyiziri, is on more than 100 days of genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda. While critically analysing how xenophobia and its variants morphed into genocide against the Tutsis, it also discusses how Rwanda re-emerged from the Dunkirk spirit and remnants to its current state. In doing so, the chapter brings to the fore some of the unique homegrown initiatives that helped in the process of reconciliation and rebuilding of Rwanda. In other words, the chapter demonstrates how the communities of post-­genocide Rwanda attenuated trauma and rebuilt gradually and the ­factors responsible for its reconstruction. The chapter also discusses how the  government and community sought justice via International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), the National Court System, and the traditional Gacaca Court System. Conclusion In the current age of resurgent nationalism, when many countries are battling over social segregation, discriminations, injustices, and inequalities that have been long suppressed or ignored, the chapters in the book demonstrate reckoning with past injustices and the legacies of either colonial, imperial, and (or)despotic rule. The chapters, hereafter in the book, bring to the fore the nuanced understanding of often-‘forgotten’ or overlooked instances of discrimination and violence—xenophobia and genocide. All the chapters present a commonality: while ‘peace’ remains at bay, it is either hate, xenophobia, or death that wins over life. Notes 1 International Holocaust Remembrance Day. UNESCO. https://en.unesco.org/ commemorations/holocaustremembranceday 2 Xenophobia. Learning to Live Together. UNESCO. https://wayback.archive-it. org/10611/20171126022534/http://www.unesco.org/new/en/social-and-humansciences/themes/international-migration/glossary/xenophobia/

24  Rituparna Bhattacharyya 3 https://documents-dds-ny.un.org/doc/RESOLUTION/GEN/NR0/033/47/img/ NR003347.pdf?OpenElement 4 International Criminal Court. How the Court works. https://www.icc-cpi.int/ about/how-the-court-works 5 The first peace treaty was also held at The Hague, Netherlands in 1899. 6 The Eight Stages Of Genocide by Dr Gregory H. Stanton, President, Genocide Watch. https://www.keene.edu/academics/ah/cchgs/resources/educational-handouts/ the-eight-stages-of-genocide/download/ 7 The Ten Stages of Genocide. Genocide Watch. https://www.genocidewatch.com/ tenstages 8 India’s Parliament is bicameral. Lok Sabha is the House of people or the Lower house of the Parliament. Rajya Sabha is the Upper House of the Indian Parliament. 9 Article 370 and Article 35(A)of the Indian Constitution bestowed autonomy or temporary special status to Jammu and Kashmir since 1947. However, on 5 August 2019, the Indian Parliament revoked its special status and divided it into two union territories—Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh via the Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Act, 2019, which came into effect on 31 October 2019 (the Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Act, 2019, 2019) 10 Armed Forces (Jammu and Kashmir) Special Powers Act, 1990 (Act No. 21 of 1990). https://www.mha.gov.in/sites/default/files/The%20Armed%20Forces%20 %28Jammu%20and%20Kashmir%29%20Special%20Powers%20Act%2C %201990_0.pdf 11 Report of the Secretary-General’s Panel of Experts on Accountability in Sri Lanka (2011, 13 March). United Nations. https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/ resources/POE_Report_Full.pdf 12 Report of the Secretary-General’s Internal Review Panel on United Nations Action In Sri Lanka (2012, 14 November). United Nations. https://reliefweb.int/sites/ reliefweb.int/files/resources/The_Internal_Review_Panel_report_on_Sri_Lanka.pdf

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30  Rituparna Bhattacharyya Pulla, Venkat, Bhatta, Sanjai, and Bhattacharyya, Rituparna (2020). Discrimination, Challenge and Response: It’s Time for Truth Telling. In Pulla, Venkat Rao, Bhattacharyya, Rituparna, and Bhatt, Sanjai (Eds.) Discrimination, Challenge, and Response: People of North East India. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-46251-2_1, pp. 1–15 Pulla, Venkat Rao, and Kalinganire, C. (2021). The 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. Space and Culture, India, 9(3), 17–31. https://doi.org/10.20896/saci. v9i3.1065 Reed, Elizabeth, Raj, Anita, Miller, Elizabeth, and Silverman, J.G. (2010). Losing the “Gender” in Gender-Based Violence: The Missteps of Research on Dating and Intimate Partner Violence, Violence against Women, 16(3), 348–354. https://doi. org/10.1177/1077801209361127 Republic World (2022, 08 February). ‘Agar Congress Na Hoti…’: PM Modi Reminds Cong Of Sikh Genocide, Pandits Exodus, Emergency & More. YouTube. https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RW_2WpU-GM Reuter (2022, 07 March). Over 900 Ukrainian Communities without Power, Heat or Water Supply - Ukrainian Official. https://www.reuters.com/world/over-900-ukrainiancommunities-without-power-heat-or-water-supply-ukrainian-2022-03-07/ Reuters (2008, 21 November). India Revises Kashmir Death Toll to 47,000. https:// www.reuters.com/article/idINIndia-36624520081121?edition-redirect=in Reydams, Luc (2020). ‘More than a million’: the politics of accounting for the dead of the Rwandan Genocide. Review of African Political Economy, 48(168), 235–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/03056244.2020.1796320 Rise of the Nazis (n.d.). BBC iPlayer. https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/m00084td/ rise-of-the-nazis Rummel Rudolph, Joseph (1994). Death by Government: Genocide and Mass Murder Since 1900 (1st ed.). New Jersey: Transaction Publishers. Russell-Brown, Sherrie L. (2003). Rape as an Act of Genocide. Berkeley Journal of International Law, 21(2), 350–374. http://scholarship.law.berkeley.edu/bjil/vol21/ iss2/5 Schmitt, C. (1922). Politische theologie (Political Theology: Four Chapters on Concept of Sovereignty) (George Schwab, Trans.). Cambridge, MA, and London: MIT Press. Sengupta, S. (2013, 13 August). Potent Memories from an Divided India. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/14/arts/potent-memories-from-adivided-india.html Sengupta, Debjani (2006). A City Feeding on Itself: Testimonies and Histories of ‘Direct Action’ Day. In Narula, Monica (Ed.) Turbulence, Vol. 6, pp. 288–295. The Sarai Programme, Center for the Study of Developing Societies. http://archive.sarai. net/files/original/2ed2f960de6596b5ed75501e6de2c774.pdf Sering, Senge H. (2013, 11 October). China’s Interests in Shaksgam Valley. IDR Indian Defence Review. http://www.indiandefencereview.com/news/chinas-interestsin-shaksgam-valley/ Sharlach, Lisa (2000). Rape as Genocide: Bangladesh, the Former Yugoslavia, and  Rwanda. New Political Science, 22(1), 89–102. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 713687893 Sharma, A. (2014). Irom Chanu Sharmila and the Movement against Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA). Space and Culture, India, 1(3), 18–26. https://doi. org/10.20896/saci.v1i3.42

Understanding Xenophobia and Genocide  31 Shaw, Martin (2015). What Is Genocide? Cambridge: Polity Press. Siddique, Haroon (2022, 06 March). Karim Khan: The ‘Very Modern British barrister’ Heading ICC’s Russia Inquiry. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2022/mar/06/karim-khan-british-barrister-icc-russia-war-crimes-inquiry Sinha, Dinesh Chandra, and Dasgupta, Ashok (2011). 1946: The Great Calcutta Killings and Noakhali Genocide. Kolkata: Himangshu Maity. Smelser, N.J., and Baltes, P.B. (Eds.) (2001). International Encyclopaedia of the Social and Behavioural Sciences. Pergamon: Elsevier. Smith-Spark, Laura (2004, 08 December). How Did Rape Become a Weapon of War? BBC News. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/4078677.stm Spencer, Philip (2012). Genocide Since 1945. New York: Routledge. Staub, Ervin (2011). Overcoming Evil: Genocide, Violent Conflict, and Terrorism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stiller, Alexa (2019). The Mass Murder of the European Jews and the Concept of ‘Genocide’ in the Nuremberg Trials: Reassessing Raphaël Lemkin’s Impact. Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 13(1), 144–172. https://doi.org/10.5038/1911-9933.13.1.1610 Storyville: Final Account (2022, 26 January). BBCiPlayer. https://www.bbc.co.uk/ iplayer/episode/m0013vf3/storyville-final-account Tago, Atsushi, and Wayman, Frank (2010). Explaining the Onset of Mass Killing, 1949–87. Journal of Peace Research, 47(1), 3–13. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0022343309342944 Talbot, Ian, and Singh, Gurharpal (2009). The Partition of India. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tate, S.A., and Law, I. (2015). Caribbean Racisms: Connections and Complexities in the Caribbean Region, Mapping Global Racisms. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Terry, Geraldine, and Hoare, Joanne (2007). Gender-Based Violence. Working in Gender & Development. Oxfam GB. https://oxfamilibrary.openrepository.com/ bitstream/handle/10546/115394/bk-gender-based-violence-300907-en.pdf? sequence=5 The Citizenship (Amendment) Bill (2019). Home Affairs. PRS Legislative Research. https://prsindia.org/billtrack/the-citizenship-amendment-bill-2019 The Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Act, 2019 (2019, 9 August). The Gazette of India Ministry of Law and Justice, No.34 of 2019. https://egazette.nic.in/Write ReadData/2019/210407.pdf The Kashmir Files (2022, 11 March). Directed/Written-Vivek Agnihotri, Production: Zee Studios. The Kurdish Genocide Achieving Justice through EU Recognition (n.d.). UNPO. https://www.europarl.europa.eu/meetdocs/2009_2014/documents/d-iq/dv/ 03_kurdishgenocidesofanfalandhalabja_/03_kurdishgenocidesofanfalandhalabja_ en.pdf The New York Times (2022, 13 March). Russia-Ukraine War—Ukraine Live Updates: Russian Airstrikes Kill at Least 35 at Base Near Polish Border. https://www.nytimes. com/live/2022/03/13/world/ukraine-russia-war?name=styln-russia-ukraine& region=TOP_BANNER&block=storyline_menu_recirc&action=click&pgtype= Interactive&variant=0_Control&is_new=false Thomson, Mike (2013, 24 September). Hyderabad 1948: India’s Hidden Massacre. BBC News. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-24159594

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2 Nationalisms On(the)line New Media and the Fanning of Fear and Xenophobia Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi

Introduction Around the second week of May 2021, many of us received messages on WhatsApp and saw multiple posts, tweets, and retweets on Facebook and Twitter regarding the now-viral Charlie Hebdo cartoon that depicted Indians dying in the wake of the second wave of COVID-19 pandemic, primarily due to lack of oxygen, with the catch phrase, “33 million gods in India and not one capable of producing oxygen”.1 The cartoon was widely shared by liberals, moderates, and the right wing across all the social media platforms and handles and initiated a public discussion of ‘being’ Hindu and being and belonging as an Indian. More than the cartoon, what drew our attention were these ensuing public discussions and conversations that took place online—some pointed out that it was only a cartoon, an expression of humour and an opinion that the sartorial journal was entitled to.2 Few others thought that difficult questions and provocations need to be raised specially during crises like these.3 On the other hand, most were critical, stating that humour cannot be condoned when it trivialised mass deaths and suffering.4 At the same time, many opined, “Wine n Fries will be loved just the same here. Be rest assured, there will be no attack on your office or staff”5 or that “we Hindus”6 respect freedom of expression and will cause no harm nor “disrespect the country or its people”.7 Further comments on posts in a Facebook thread read: “But no one killed the cartoonists or burn[ed] the office… Otherwise think of it’s [the] scenario if it made [the] same cartoon of other religion…” “…..the major difference between Hinduism and Islam. We are tolerant, we won’t kill you”.8 Interestingly, being a Hindu and a tolerant Hindu is constructed online around a narrative of difference that seems to be in contrast to the Muslim other, who are insinuated of being intolerant. Here, almost all the narratives hint at the earlier 2015 tragic attack on the offices of Charlie Hebdo

DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-2

34  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi in France, killing the magazine’s editor and several of its cartoonists and employees.9 The terrorist attack was in response to several cartoons and caricatures of Prophet Muhammed published in the magazine that reportedly hurt the Muslim sentiments, which alluded to Muslims avenging the blasphemous act of publishing caricatures of the Prophet.10 In sharp contradiction, many stated that the cartoon was not only shared by hundreds but laughed at as well, whereas “they dare not even mention another cartoon that Charlie Hebdo drew. Should tell you all you need to know about Hindutva extremism and another kind of extremism”.11 Not surprisingly, comments were also made, mentioning, “Thank you for bringing this up and letting us know we have sense left, unlike others!”.12 It is evident how a more sensible and rational Hindu self is being fashioned vis-à-vis the Muslim other again. It needs to be highlighted at this point that the Hindu self here converges with the Hindu nationalist discourse—of being and belonging in Hindu India—as many thanked Charlie Hebdo for “clarifying the religion of India”13 and the fact that it “declared India to be a Hindu Rashtra because apparently, only” Hindu gods “are responsible for the production of oxygen for all Indians”.14 The online narratives not only articulated a clear connection between the ‘Hindu’ and the ‘Rashtra’, or the notion of the Indian nation, but also visibilised an online Hindu collective—‘we Hindus’ unlike ‘them’—the Muslim other (Anderson and Longkumer, 2018). Simultaneously, it created a mediated presence of all Hindus being there together vis-à-vis the Muslim other (Villi and Stocchetti, 2011). This brings us to the central question that the chapter attempts to address: How are these notions of nationalism negotiated online and offline, and the affective economies of digital nationalism in terms of feelings of xenophobia, fear, and anxiety of the other? Kumar (2018: 135) points out that a “new kind of public is being constructed in India”, which is marked by overt aggressive behaviour that often verges on being abusive. Similarly, Shruti, a middle-aged housewife belonging to an upper-middle-class family and a self-proclaimed new media addict, tells us that FB [Facebook] and WA [Whatsapp] can be very toxic places. Irrespective of your political ideology or beliefs, you can be judged and branded quickly by complete strangers. And you could equally offend and outrage complete strangers. So often one can be branded and almost accused of being a closet Sanghi, Bhakt, Liberandu, or Sickular. You would find people making posts, saying, “one slip and carefully hidden – expose themselves so ‘purged my friend list of closet Sanghi’” or “sickular liberandu exposed, identified and unfriended”. Feelings really run high on these social media platforms. Looking at FB and WA one would think that we can get offended and outrage other with great ease. Shruti’s narrative clearly indicates that the spaces of new media are emotive spaces where ‘feelings run high’, which clearly resonate with the affective politics of being a Hindu and Hindu nationalism. Thus, what Kumar refers to as new public goes beyond the

Nationalisms On(the)line  35 notion of representational politics to include affective politics as well. Doveling, Harju, and Sommer (2018:1) argue that “social media is emotional media” and that it nurtures emotional exchanges giving way to “affective digital cultures”. The chapter is based on digital ethnography of popular new media sites, like Facebook and Twitter, which constantly circulates images and narratives of nationalist identities, nationalism, xenophobia, and fear in the public sphere. There are some pages with large number of followers who keep interacting on these pages. Some of these are: भारत माता परिवार (Bharat Mata Pariwar—Indian Mother Family),15 The Hindu Voice,16 Nitin Shukla,17 Pushpendra Kulshrestha,18 सबलोकतंत्र (Sabloktantra),19 Inquilab India,20 Mahua Moitra Fans,21 Nabiya Khan,22 Ayesha Renna,23 Safoora Zargar,24 and Abdur Rahman25. These Facebook pages have more than 100,000 followers, and Twitter accounts have more than 40,000 followers. These social media accounts regularly keep posting current incidents occurring around India as per their ideologies. More specifically, these accounts work on the narrative building,26 and their thousands of followers use the images, videos, and textual content shared on these accounts across various social media networks (Negi, 2017). We tried to examine the content circulated over social media accounts related to nationalism, xenophobia, identity building, and identity tarnishing by identifying, extracting, and analysing the data shared in the form of text, image, and video. We also conducted 15 in-depth interviews between February 2020 to April 2021 to gain an insight into the affective responses and interpretation of the producers and consumers of social media content. The interviewees were selected keeping in mind their religious identities, participation on Twitter, and membership in some of the FB pages selected. Names of all interviewees have been changed at the request of the interviewees. The following section of the chapter explores how online nationalism creates a sense of community through feelings, particularly emotions of love and rejection one has for one’s nation. In the subsequent section, we discuss how in the backdrop of the Citizenship Amendment Act 2019 questions of who belongs as a citizen is specifically worked around Hindu and Muslim communities, and how their acceptance and non-acceptance of one another translates into denying the ethos and values of the nation and thereby rejecting the nation as such. The affective energies fuelled by perceptions of rejection creates an online space for fear and anxieties to take hold. Affect Registers of Digital Nationalism Eriksen (2007) states that though scholars almost predicted the death of nationalism given the nature of the Internet, it was thought that its non-­ territorial, supranational character would eventually lead to the

36  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi breakdown of national identities and the formation of new global identities (Beck, 2002; Friedman, 2005; Ohmae, 1995). Eriksen (2007: 7) argues: the Internet strengthened rather than weakened national identities and it acted as a ‘re-embedding technology’ that clearly did not dis-embed notions of nationalism and national identities. Eriksen further points out that nations have thrived in cyberspace and that digital technology has played a key role in keeping ‘nations (and other abstract communities) together (Eriksen, 2007: 1). Thus, giving birth to virtual communities and nationalisms (Miller and Slater, 2000). Much like Ang (1996), we would like to raise the question of what it means to live and negotiate with our national identities and sense of belonging in a media-saturated world and the underlying implications for nationalism and national identities. Harari (2018) believes that in the twenty-first century, the world lives along global rivers of information and innovation that could be disruptive and difficult to control by individual nations and paves the way for global corporation amongst nations. On the other hand, Mihelj and Jiménez-Martínez, (2020: 332) observe that the digital era has announced the return of nationalism and its passionate variants and has ushered a worldwide experience of populism and neo-­ nationalism, neo-authoritarianism that promote anti-liberal and anti-immigrant views raising concerns for liberal democracy. It is not surprising when Wang and Daniel (2017: xvi) claim that it is impossible to understand nationalism, particularly nationalism and how it ‘works effectively’ without trying to unpack the digital media and technologies as a critical space for reproduction of affective nationalism. The focus here is not on how the nation-states are formed but rather how they are reproduced, particularly through digital media and technologies (Antonsich, 2020; Mihelj and Jiménez-Martínez, 2020). Anderson (1991: 4) speaks of nationalism having the ability to arouse “deep attachment” and “command profound emotional legitamacy [sic]”. Similarly, Antonsich and Skey (2020: 581) assert that “nations are first and foremost felt by the people”. The notion of nationalism and the nationalist are articulated and circulated by evoking powerful emotions of love and hate (Ahmed, 2004; Brennan, 2004; Wang and Daniel, 2017). In other words, the interplay and negotiations between the intense emotions, whether that of love and hate or a range of intense feelings of victimhood, superiority, rage, hurt, fear, anxiety, and disillusionment, co-constitute affective nationalism. Simultaneously, as Antonsich and Skey (2020) argue, they broaden the scope of understanding the nation, its production and reproduction, beyond the nation, being an imagined community and a community of practice to a community of feelings. The challenge here is to untangle the many contradictions and ambiguities of the practices of affective nationalism coupled with the messiness of the digital space in itself. Affective nationalism, according to Antonsich and

Nationalisms On(the)line  37 Skey (2020), is characterised by its fluid, mobile, and circulatory nature that finds, as we argue in this chapter, a complementary space in digital media. In other words, the digital platforms allow such a space to emerge where a cross-­section of individuals and collectives can freely express and opine about what they feel, making them both media producers and consumers (Bruns, 2008; Jenkins, 2008). Scholars have extensively argued how digital media have opened up space for individuals and collectives to contribute and participate in public communication that has diversified and democratised the public sphere (Yusupova and Rutland, 2021). At the same time, the ease of access to digital media has made such opinions and expressions to get widely circulated and reaches large audience without any form of censorship or intermediation (Cammaerts, 2018). This disintermediation of the digital media environments results in it having emotionally charged and emotionally driven content (Adriani, 2019). No wonder it has been observed that radical views have become increasingly commonplace in social media (Fuchs, 2021; Sunstein, 2017). Mihelj and Jiménez-Martínez (2020) claim that the era of common national narratives is over, giving way to perhaps polarised, fragmented, and niche versions of notions of national identities and nationalism in social media. Ritesh, a young college student, tells us: “the fringe elements make the loudest noise on social media…. And who are they? Do they represent the majority? NO. They are literally on the fringe and do not speak for everyone. They only speak for a particular ideology”. Here, the fringe elements that Ritesh refers to are the radical and polarised views akin to what Antonsich and Skey (2020) describe as ambivalent practices and politics of affective nationalism having different meanings for different social groups. Sumartojo (2020) suggests that affective nationalisms must be understood in light of how people relate to the nation and co-nationals, specifically how they feel towards the nation and other co-nationals. In other words, what one feels for the nation and other co-nationals is not only a complex, dynamic process, but as Sumartojo emphasises, it is highly contextual, making forms of affective nationalism unstable and unpredictable. Thus, the affective framing of nationalism makes it a process that is always in the making, emerging from continuous, ongoing experiences. The online avatar of affective nationalism we argue too is similar as exemplified through the events surrounding the Charlie Hebdo cartoon. Ritesh further adds, “wait till something happens… all hell breaks loose on the social media. Everyone …anyone who has an opinion and a point of view will post/ comment or the other”. People you least expected to have an opinion, they too jump in the fray. They all go trigger happy. The ‘trigger happy’ mode within which affective nationalism operates in social media, especially around certain ‘key moments or events’, reinforces feelings of uncertainty and unpredictability that amplifies emotions like fear and anxiety.

38  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi Abdul, who owns an electronic shop in Seelampur in North-East Delhi where the Delhi riots of 2020 took place, elaborates the intense feelings of unease and dread: In our everyday lives, we know so many Hindus, many of our neighbours, friends, colleagues, customers, suppliers, the local vegetable-wala (vegetable seller) and fruitwala (fruit seller) or chotu who does all kinds of errand jobs are Hindus. We are cordial with them, and so are they. Everything seems perfectly fine …all is ok. But all of sudden, you will notice that after the riots, they post these radical views on FB. But more dangerous ones are the silent ones who may just like some of these very aggressive posts…. Or will not post anything in public but sends you those posts or some very provoking communal messages on WhatsApp. And if you look at it neutrally, you will find such people both amongst Hindus and Muslims. It is then you start questioning what you know of them … you start losing the trust you become fearful and anxious. In the backdrop of the Delhi riots of 2020, the chapter tries to examine the articulation of nationalism and xenophobia, particularly the intense affectively overcharged public discourses in social media. Delhi has witnessed several protests and violent clashes in recent years.27 The voice of dissent and invigorating feeling about assertive self-identities of both Hindus and Muslims have created a democratic space, albeit contested.28 Looking at the timeline of various events in Delhi helps us to understand the connection between these events. The Citizenship Amendment Bill (CAB) was passed in the Parliament on 11 and 12 December 2019, and after President Ram Nath Kovind had signed it, the CAB bill became the Citizenship Amendment Act29 (CAA).30 On 15 December 2019, the protest in Jamia Millia Islamia (JMI) University and the clash between students and police marked the first resistance and opposition to the CAA.31 Soon after, several protests broke out in different parts of Delhi and India.32 Some people gathered at Shaheen Bagh to protest against CAA, National Population Register33 (NPR), and National Register of Citizen34 (NRC) and the police attack on the JMI University students.35 The protestors blocked the link road between Delhi and Noida.36 There were counter-demonstrations demanding the clearing of the blockade, and objections were raised against the anti-CAA protests.37 Gradually, tension kept building among the people. Several events were witnessed at the Shaheen Bagh protest site—for instance, a two-month-old child died, a 17-year-old boy fired a gun,38 and there were slogans against anti-CAA protesters, which were followed by Delhi Riots.39 The protest site at Jaffrabad, North-East Delhi, was the last protest site after which violent clashes between Muslims and Hindus broke in on 23 February 2020.40 A group of people comprising mostly women sat for a protest near Jaffrabad metro station on 22 February 2020. On 23 February, after the visit of Kapil Mishra, a BJP politician, stone pelting started and gradually converted into a violent riot in

Nationalisms On(the)line  39 the surrounding areas like Maujpur, Kardampuri, Yamuna Vihar and Brijpuri, Bhajanpura, Khajuri Khas, Chand Bagh, Gokul Puri, and Shiv Vihar. Shiv Vihar, a locality bordering Delhi and Uttar Pradesh, bore the massive brunt of violence.41 42 A large tyre market of predominantly Muslims in Gokul Puri was burnt,43 a petrol pump of a Hindu in Bhajanpura was burnt, and the violence went out of control in the following days.44 Marauding groups of people were seen verifying the religious identities of people.45 Vehicles were snatched and burnt, and people were tortured and brutally thrashed.46 There have been accounts of serious gunfire47 and petrol bombs48 in Shiv Vihar near the Rajdhani Public School, which became the site of intense violent clashes and the death of many rioters.49 According to Sumit, a riot survivor and a resident of Shiv Vihar: the riot was a planned attack on Hindus. The Rajdhani School in front of my house was the centre of guard from where attackers were shooting guns, petrol bombs and stones to the nearby area, and they had the benefit of height. We (Hindus) didn’t initiate an attack; once our shops on the road and house were set on fire, attempts were made to desecrate Hanuman Mandir at the Shiv Vihar tiraha (T-point crossing). We tried to save our lives and our pride. There were many people who were not from local areas and that’s what led to bitter violence. Sumit further added about the role of social media during the riots: Social media played a very key role during the riot. Minute by minute circulation of videos, images and texts about the violence helped people to be safe on one hand while it acted as putting oil on flames by enraging and inciting people based on false propaganda. Rumours on social media platforms created a very dangerous situation.

Affective Digiscapes: Of Loving and Belonging The voicing and circulation of undying love, devotion, and sacrifice for the nation is often at the core of affective nationalism in social media (Brennan, 2004; Mankekar and Carlan, 2019; Wang and Daniel, 2017). Often this love and devotion to the nation are seen as demanding and never taken for granted. It is a love that has to be proved and tested time and again, and any failure indicates as a detachment, a love lost, and hence a rejection of the nation itself. Thus, in a way affective nationalism speaks of either love for the nation or its complete rejection. Therefore, Wang and Daniel (2017) rightly consider nationalism as both powerful and dangerous, uniting, and divisive. We also argue in this chapter that the very nature of affective nationalism in social media, particularly its articulation in terms of love, devotion, detachment, and rejection, creates a space of violence.

40  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi Hamid, a young IT engineer, explains to us how social media has evolved into an ‘aggressive’, ‘disturbing’, and ‘anxiety’-producing space: Here in social media lagam hi nehi he kisi ko (nobody has any control). It is as if the love for your country entitles you to say anything to anybody… no one cares whether you are hurting someone’s sentiments or being abusive. Trolls are so common. I know many who have quit Facebook or have withdrawn from Twitter because of it being a very aggressive place. Constant ‘tu tu kari’ (arguments) completely destroys one’s peace of mind. Truly it is disturbing. It increases your anxiety. On the other hand, Niraj, a middle-aged businessman, counters Hamid’s narrative, saying: Look, social media is very much a democratic space to express our opinion. Someone may not like it but does that mean I can’t voice my opinion? Today because of it [social media] an ordinary person like me can say something and be heard …. otherwise do you think any of the big big media houses will interview me or value my opinion? Here, Niraj substantiates the argument that Yusupova and Rutland (2021: 327) make, that digital nationalism has become more engaging and is no more an “elitist enterprise” and that ordinary people can be equally politically active through their participation through digital media and technologies. In other words, it challenges the idea of ordinary people as passive consumers of media and plays an active role in defining the discourse on nationalism. Sagarika Ghose, a journalist and television news anchor, first coined the term ‘Internet Hindus’ on Twitter in 2010, referring to groups of Hindus present online, who would react strongly to any posts, news, and comments that appeared to slight Hindus, Hindu religion, and Hindu practices (Mohan, 2015). Subsequently, many have noted the presence of such groups with aggressive and abusive languages have attacked and threatened people online, whom these groups have thought to have insulted Hindu sentiments, religion, and practices (Arya, 2013; Dasgupta, 2012; Guha, 2012; Pradhan and Sriram, 2013). Gittinger (2015: 11) remarks that the Internet Hindus identify themselves as the common Hindus whose voice has been marginalised and ignored by mainstream media, which is dominated by ‘English educated elites’. On Twitter, Sunanda Vashisht,50 who identifies herself as an explorer, political commentator, columnist, and chronicler of our times, posts: Spent last two days away from Twitter, talking to students in university campuses and community events. Everyone I spoke to was aware of how twisted the Delhi riot narrative is in liberal media. Without exception, everyone asked me how they can help me in countering biased media.

Nationalisms On(the)line  41 And she goes on to add: On Twitter we may not realise it, but there is a groundswell against biased media and people are hungry for truth and agenda-free reporting. Those who don’t see it are living under a rock. Responding to the above tweet, a follower living in Bay Area, USA, comments that his Nepalese Uber driver had remarked that the ‘ek taraf’ or onesided, reporting of media persons causes problems. The post clearly emphasises ‘liberal media’ as ‘biased media’ instead of the ‘ground swell’, and this groundswell represents ordinary people who are seeking the truth and an agenda-free reporting. Thus, the post raises questions about how the nation is being represented and in what light, particularly their relationship to the nation and national values. Finally, in whose interests are these representations being made? It is interesting to note how the events of the Delhi riots and the outbursts in social media, particularly its biased reporting, are understood in relation to incredibly ‘unremarkable stuff’ (Skey, 202051; Skey and Antonsich, 2017). Some of these ‘unremarkable stuff’ relate to very ordinary everyday experiences that may include festivities, everyday rituals, and cultural practices, which otherwise are rather mundane and banal and of no particular concern or interest. These unremarkable everyday festivities, rituals, and practices are all of a sudden brought to the centre stage of public discussion in social media. For example, posts appeared that spoke of how Hindu festivals, rituals, and practices are targeted. One such post spoke of how the Hindu festival of Diwali was being targeted, where the Supreme Court bans the sale of firecrackers.52 Shruti tells us that people talk of how Hindus have always been ‘cornered’ and especially criticised at times like these in social media. So, on the one hand, firecrackers are being banned at the time of Hindu festivities and no action is taken during festivals celebrated by Muslims. In contrast, during Eid, the bursting of firecrackers is celebrated by posting pictures of the night sky lit with fireworks. Earlier posts made by people resurface. Newspaper reports made in different contexts, sometimes in different countries, in totally different times, and not related to the present situation are compiled together to show their contradictory positions where the two communities are concerned. It was pointed out on a Twitter post with the hashtag ‘Hinduphobia is real’ when the same person posts how their pets are scared and have not been eating because of the continuous bursting of firecrackers.53 Similarly, posts with hashtag ‘Hindu in Danger’ raise the question that has celebrated a waterless Holi: Can one celebrate a bloodless Bakri Eid?54 Or newspaper reports that took a contradictory stand when the wearing of Hijab by Muslim women55 is celebrated as a choice and a question of pride, while Hindu women wearing ‘ghoonghat’56 is reported as gender bias and a regressive practice.57 Here, we would like to point out that such discussions are not

42  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi solely about the suppression of the Hindu voice or misrepresentation of Hindus in mainstream media, thereby taking offence. But it is more about creating intense feelings and sentiments—of discharging affective energies, which come from the perception that the community is being either wronged or being deliberately misunderstood through perpetual biased representations of the community. Alok is quick to apprise us that it is not just the news reporting in mainstream media but also the advertisements that portray the community in a particular manner. Have you seen the Sham Sharma Show?58 There he discusses in detail how advertisements are also Hinduphobic. He raises very interesting questions why should Hindus be always blamed? Why are they painted as badmash (rogue) and criticised? Why can’t we equally criticize other communities for their culture and traits? When hashtags like Hinduphobia are real or Hindu in Danger is used, it also underscores strong feelings of precarity. Such hashtags amplify fears and anxiety towards the ‘other’ and here, specifically the Muslim community, who are viewed as favoured (Mohan, 2015) on the one hand. On the other, there is a need to stand up and defend oneself. Often, the ‘favoured Muslim’ is described as appeasement of minorities vis-à-vis the persecution of the Hindu majority (Mohan, 2015). Yet, we argue here is how this kind of perception unleashes feelings of rejection. But despite being the majority, their national belonging, love for the nation, and the values they stand for are constantly questioned. This constant questioning is reflected in both Shruti’s and Alok’s narrative of Hindus being solely ‘blamed’, ‘criticised’, and cornered. Or when Niraj shows us a couple of tweets and memes in his phone59 mentioning that one is immediately labelled a communal bigot or Islamophobic if one speaks against radicals and radicalisation of the Muslim poor. The tweet “Parashuram teaches us shastra and shaastra (weapon and scripture), both are important in life and those who have the knowledge of both will always survive”60 in a way underlines the need to reclaim the nation, if need be, aggressively for the survival of the Hindu community. It is interesting to note that the Muslims on the other hand feel equally cornered and targeted, and just like hashtags of Hindus in Danger and Hinduphobia is real, there are similar hashtags of Islam in Danger and Islamophobia. Hamid points out that the Muslims being favoured is just a ruse and that the ‘tu tu kari’ often translates to online hate. He gives an example of a GIF (Graphic Interchange Format) that had gone viral during the beginning of the pandemic. It was a picture of a Maulvi saab (learned Muslim teacher or doctor of law), and the moment you touched it would laughingly say you now have corona.

Nationalisms On(the)line  43 In a way, the GIF immediately stigmatised and blamed the Muslim community as a super spreader of COVID-19 virus. Many of our interviewees told us that time and again both in mainstream media and in social media, Muslims are misrepresented as dangerous, violent, and intolerant (Hashmi et al., 2020). For example, Dilshad Ahmed posts on the occasion of the arrest of a well-known gangster in Uttar Pradesh, Vikas Dubey, that because of Hindu surname he was lucky and that had his name been Khan, Ali, or Abdullah, not only him but his entire village would have been branded as terrorists.61 His post lays stress on how Muslims are often stereotyped in mainstream media as violent criminals. Ahmed, an electrician with an online start-up company, opines that media often stereotypes Muslims as “goondas, badmash chor chakke jo har waqt bawaal machata he” (gangsters, rogue, and thieves who are up to no good and always creating trouble). A message he claims became viral when the headlines of a newspaper were deliberately altered to read that Muslims involved in riots were distributed Rs 24.48 crores (Rs 240 million), while the actual headline was that people affected by riots were to be given aid totalling an amount of approximately 24 crore (240 million) Indian rupees. Or when posts particularly mention that Muslims used mosques and loudspeakers to congregate and attack Hindus in a planned manner.62 Such social media circulation substantiated a narrative of communal and violent Muslims. It is important to point out that social media has in many ways reduced the space for interaction and dialogue amongst the two communities but have instead fanned fear and anxiety. Hamid narrates: looking at social media one would think that the Ganga Jamuna tehzeeb (syncretic Hindu-Muslim cultural practices) that India was famous for is all gone and dead. One is only talking of Zakir Naik63 or few others like him and how they represent Muslims, who are spreading the message of hate against the Hindus. But no one talks of the show Hum Log on NDTV, where Muslim clerics and writers debated rather neutrally on why Islam is often associated with terrorism across the world.64 Or the numerous Twitter Facebook posts made by Hindus that equally spread the message of hate against Muslims. Today it only points out our differences, how opposed we are to one another and how we are troubling/harming one another, be that with actual violence or saying things to hurt one another. These public discussions in social media, as many of our interviewees, both Hindus and Muslims, have acknowledged, have heightened the consciousness of the differences and amplified feelings and sentiments of fear and anxiety towards one another. Shruti adds: the constant circulation, particularly the very vocal and strong language used to express these differences, makes them almost real. I mean if we

44  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi had not noticed them earlier, we now pay more attention to these differences …. How do ‘we’ practice a particular thing and do ‘they’ do it. Also, I have come across the most liberal people saying that Hindus are sometimes shown the least sensitivity, whereas one tiptoes around Muslims and is overtly mindful of what comments you make about them. According to Skey (2020), these phantasmatic divisions of ‘us’ and ‘them’ are made into distinct oppositional binaries through the use of hyperbolic and exclusionary languages. Here, we would also like to point out that the same use of hyperbolic and exclusionary language creates this acute sense of online crisis where both Hindus and Muslims feel constantly persecuted and always under threat from one another. The more they feel in danger, the greater is their intensity of laying a greater claim to the nation. In staking and reclaiming the nation as one’s own, every act of both Hindus or Muslims is read within the prism of either undying love for the nation or a complete rejection of it. Thus, the dialectics of love and rejection determines who belongs and who does not. The association of loving to belonging to the nation and rejection to not belonging to the nation produces the fertile ground for affective energies and intense feelings of xenophobia to unfold. The manner in which online xenophobia grows takes two interconnected directions. For the first, let us draw your attention back to Shruti’s comment on ‘circulation’—it is important to understand that online circulation does not refer only numerically to larger audiences but also to broader audiences across national boundaries. It is not surprising that in claiming the nation the larger South Asian digital context must also be taken into account. Many a time, our interviewees have referred to the persecution of Hindu minorities in neighbouring states of Bangladesh and Pakistan, where Hindus have been killed or hacked to death, temples were destroyed, or anti-Hindu hate speeches online were made. This has gone on to strengthen the affective energies around notions of xenophobia. Simultaneously, the Muslim concept of brotherhood and pan-nationalism, particularly in the light of violent histories of partition and Pakistan and Bangladesh being Muslim-majority countries, has cast a shadow of doubt on the Muslim love for the Indian nation. Conclusion The chapter explores how social media emerges as a critical space for articulating affective nationalism on the one hand. On the other, it becomes a space of violence, becoming an overtly accessible space that accommodates a spectrum of views and opinions. Undoubtedly, the space of social media has opened up for the marginalised voices to be heard and has created a participatory culture with people playing an active role in engaging with notions of nationalism. The chapter argues that both the communities—Hindus and

Nationalisms On(the)line  45 Muslims—have similar narratives of being ‘cornered’, ‘blamed’, and ‘marginalised’. These narratives of being marginalised, suppression of the Hindu/ Muslim voices, and victimhood release affective energies of intense emotions of being rejected by co-nationals, as well as fear and anxiety, thus creating an overcharged space that articulates extremes of emotions—of undying love for the nation or of complete detachment and thereby rejection of the nation, a by-product of which are expressions of xenophobia. Though social media has increased participation and sharing opinions and information, it has resulted in the deep polarisation of communities, in this case that of Hindus and Muslims (Sunstein, 2018). Equally, social media has not created a common space for communities with different opinions to engage in a dialogue with one another and connect and listen to diverse ideas and views (Iwabuchi, 2017; Zuckerman, 2013). Notes 1 Charlie, J. Suis. (2021, April 28). Articles & DESSINS de Riss. Charlie Hebdo. https://charliehebdo.fr/auteurs/riss/. Also see Grewal, K., Rajagopalan, R., Ghosh, A., and Ghosh, P. (2021, May 13). ‘33 MN gods…not one producing oxygen’: Charlie Hebdo releases cartoon on India’s Covid crisis. ThePrint. https://theprint. in/world/33-mn-gods-not-one-producing-oxygen-charlie-hebdo-releasescartoon-on-indias-covid-crisis/65780/. 2 India Resists (2021, May 14). Charlie Hebdo cartoon: 33 million gods in India, not a single one for Oxygen. Bhakts used to be fans once upon a time… [Image Attached] [Status Update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/indiaresists/ posts/4592850957410931 3 #charliehebdo (2021, April 28). Tweet Post. Twitter Hashtag. https://twitter.com/ hashtag/charliehebdo?lang=en 4 Jha, S. (2021, May 14). Yesterday came to know about recent Charlie Hebdo cartoon controversy. Mocking the faith is not new for this French magazine. [Status Update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/sadan.jha/posts/ 4630440146970703. 5 For details see: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=96708736 7455065&id=100024614312200 (last accessed on 1 May 2021) (The post has been deleted). 6 India Resists (2021, May 14,) Charlie Hebdo cartoon: 33 million gods in India, not a single one for Oxygen. Bhakts used to be fans once upon a time… [Image Attached] [Status Update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/indiaresists/ posts/4592850957410931) 7 The Print. (2021, May 13). Published on 28 April 2021, the cartoon depicts Indians lying on the ground, gasping for oxygen and the accompanying. [Status  Update] [Facebook]. https://www.facebook.com/theprintindia/posts/ 3465007503729013 Also see: Joshi, A. (2021 May 16). “33 million Gods and not one capable of producing oxygen”. This is the latest Charlie Hebdo cartoon on India. [Status Update] [Facebook]. https://www.facebook.com/archan.aarya. varman/posts/4040898349291488 8 India Resists (2021, May 14). Charlie Hebdo cartoon: 33 million gods in India, not a single one for Oxygen. Bhakts used to be fans once upon a time… [Image Attached] [Status Update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/indiaresists/ posts/4592850957410931)

46  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi 9 BBC News. (2020, September 1). Charlie Hebdo: Magazine republishes controversial Mohammed cartoons. BBC News. https://www.bbc.com/news/worldeurope-53985407; and BBC News. (2015, January 13). French terror Attacks: Victim obituaries. BBC News. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe30724678. 10 Vinograd, C., Jamieson, A., Viala, F., and Smith, A. (2018, July 24). Charlie Hebdo Shooting: 12 killed at Muhammad cartoons magazine in Paris. NBCNews. com. https://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/paris-magazine-attack/charlie-hebdoshooting-12-killed-muhammad-cartoons-magazine-paris-n281266; and Philipose, R. (2020, September 6). Explained: 5 years after terror attack, WHY Charlie Hebdo has reprinted caricatures of the prophet. The Indian Express. https:// indianexpress.com/article/explained/explained-five-years-after-deadly-terrorattack-why-has-charlie-hebdo-reprinted-caricatures-of-the-prophet-6580382/. 11 The Sham Sharma Show. (2021, May 15). Charlie Hebdo made a cartoon about  the second COVID wave in India. Got me thinking… [Video Attached] [Status Update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/shamsharmashow/videos/ 1728717127338753 (last accessed on) 12 The Print. (2021, May 13). Published on 28 April 2021, the cartoon depicts Indians lying on the ground, gasping for oxygen and the accompanying. [Status  Update] [Facebook]. https://www.facebook.com/theprintindia/posts/ 3465007503729013 13 #charliehebdo(2021, April 28). Tweet Post. Twitter Hashtag. https://twitter.com/ hashtag/charliehebdo?lang=en 14 The Print. (2021, May 13). Published on 28 April 2021, the cartoon depicts Indians lying on the ground, gasping for oxygen and the accompanying. [Status  Update] [Facebook]. https://www.facebook.com/theprintindia/posts/ 3465007503729013 15 भारत माता परिवार. (n.d.). About [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/groups/bharat.maata/about 16 The Hindu Voice. (n.d.). Home [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/TheHinduVoice/?ref=page_internal 17 Nitin Shukla नितिन शुक्ला. (n.d.). Home [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/NitinShuklaIn/about 18 Pushpendra Kulshrestha (n.d.). Home [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/pushpendrakulshresthaIndian/ 19 Sab Loktantra [@SabLokTantra]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/SabLokTantra 20 Inquilab India. (n.d.). About [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/InquilabIndia001/about/ 21 Mahua Moitra Fans. (n.d.). About [Facebook Page]. Facebook. Retrieved on June 15, 2021, from https://www.facebook.com/MahuaMoitraFans/about/ 22 Nabiya Khan [@NabiyaKhan11]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/NabiyaKhan11 23 Aysha Renna [@AyshaRenna]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/AyshaRenna 24 Safoora Zargar [@SafooraZargar]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/SafooraZargar 25 Abdur Rahman [@AbdurRahman_IPS] (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/AbdurRahman_IPS 26 Pushpendra Kulshrestha [@Pushpendraamu]. (2021, July 26). Founder Trustees of “Rashtra Chetna” Our focus is on “Narrative building” and raising the Hindu consciousness. [Image attached] [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/ Pushpendraamu/status/1419507505319849984

Nationalisms On(the)line  47 27 The Economic Times. (2020, December 25). CAA protests Highlights: Violence in UP, Karnataka; big demonstrations in Delhi and other cities. The Economic Times. https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/caa-protests-highlights-violence-in-upkarnataka-big-demonstrations-in-delhi-and-other-cities/liveblog/72881262.cms. 28 Hindustan Times. (2020, February 25). How violence unfolded on Delhi streets  during anti-CAA protests in Jafrabad. Hindustan Times. https://www. hindustantimes.com/delhi-news/pro-caa-rioters-go-on-a-rampage/story-5pvG23r 6ZGsFpZybyr98OJ.html. 29 The Citizenship Amendment Act, 2019 determines the eligibility of illegal migrants, particularly Hindus, Sikhs, Budhhidts, Jains, Parsis and Christians coming to India from neighbouring countries—Afghanistan, Pakistan and Bangladesh—on or before 31 December, 2014. 30 Press Trust of India. (2019, December 12). Citizenship bill 2019 becomes law with President Ram Nath Kovind’s Assent. Business Standard. https://www. business-standard.com/article/pti-stories/citizenship-amendment-bill-getspresident-s-assent-becomes-act-119121300006_1.html. 31 Sinha, B., Gupta, S., and Inayat, N. (2020, June 4). Jamia violence was a Wellplanned incident carried out By ‘riotous mob’: Delhi Police to HC. ThePrint. https://theprint.in/judiciary/jamia-violence-was-a-well-planned-incident-carriedout-by-riotous-mob-delhi-police-to-hc/435904/. 32 OpIndia Staff. (2020, January 30). 20 heinous incidents of violence by Muslims mobs during anti-CAA protests. OpIndia. https://www.opindia.com/2020/01/20heinous-incidents-of-violence-by-muslims-mobs-during-anti-caa-protests/. 33 The National Population Register (NPR) is a list of all people residing in India, both citizens and non-citizens. 34 The National Register of Citizens (NRC) is a list that would document all citizens living in India. 35 Business Standard. (2020, February 1). What is Shaheen Bagh protest? Business Standard. https://www.business-standard.com/about/what-is-shaheen-bagh-protest. 36 Lalwani, V. (2020, March 3). The road that opened near Shaheen Bagh had been blocked by Delhi Police, not protestors. Scroll.in. https://scroll.in/article/954072/ the-road-that-opened-near-shaheen-bagh-had-been-blocked-by-delhi-police. 37 Press Trust of India. (2020, February 2). Anti-CAA protest at SHAHEEN Bagh: Irked by difficulties faced during commute, LOCALS stage demonstration against closure of Kalindi Kunj road-India News, Firstpost. Firstpost. https://www. firstpost.com/india/anti-caa-protest-at-shaheen-bagh-irked-by-difficulties-facedduring-commute-locals-stage-demonstration-against-closure-of-kalindi-kunjroad-7991611.html. 38 TNN. (2020, January 31). On martyrs DAY, 17-year-old fires at anti-CAA march in presence of COPS: India news - times of India. The Times of India. https:// timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/on-martyrs-day-17-year-old-fires-at-anti-caamarch-in-presence-of-cops/articleshow/73782381.cms. 39 Express News Service. (2020, February 6). Shaheen Bagh: Baby dies of cold, mother says fell ill at the protest. The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/ article/cities/delhi/shaheen-bagh-baby-dies-of-cold-mother-says-fell-ill-at-theprotest-6251306/. 40 Web Desk (2020, February 23). Anti-CAA protest turns violent in delhi’s Jaffrabad. The Week. https://www.theweek.in/news/india/2020/02/23/anti-caaprotest-turns-violent-in-delhi-jaffrabad-metro-station-closed.html?trc_geo=IN. 41 Pandey, A., and Tantray, S. (2020, July 31). A Hindu rioter speaks: Delhi violence was “revenge” against Muslims, police gave free reign. The Caravan. https:// caravanmagazine.in/crime/delhi-rioter-testimony-hindu-revenge-muslims-policefree-reign.

48  Aparajita De and Vivek Tripathi 42 Business Standard. (n.d.). What is Delhi riots 2020, Delhi violence, North East Delhi riots, Delhi News. Business Standard. https://www.business-standard.com/ about/what-is-delhi-riots-2020. 43 Anand, J. (2020, August 3). Delhi violence: Renovated Gokulpuri tyre Market struggles to get back on track. The Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/ Delhi/trying-to-find-traction/article32255234.ece. 44 PTI. (2020, February 27). Delhi violence: Burnt vehicles and petrol tanks are all that remain in Bhajanpura petrol pump. News18. https://www.news18.com/ news/india/delhi-violence-burnt-vehicles-and-petrol-tanks-are-all-that-remain-inbhajanpura-petrol-pump-2518323.html. 45 Sherrif M. K., and Manral, M. S. (2020, July 5). Saw people being identified by Religion, killed, dumped Into Sewer: PCR caller is key witness to Delhi riot murders. The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/delhi/saw-peoplebeing-identified-by-religion-killed-dumped-into-sewer-pcr-caller-is-key-witness-todelhi-riot-murders-6490678/. 46 For details see: https://www.organiser.org/Encyc/2020/2/29/Glimpse-of-Ghazwae-Hind-during-Delhi-anti-Hindu-riots.html (Last accessed on 15 July 2021). Post deleted. 47 Singh, K. P. (2020, March 5). At least 102 hit by bullets in north-east Delhi Riots: Cops. Hindustan Times. https://www.hindustantimes.com/delhi-news/102-peopleshot-at-over-13-000-distress-calls-received-in-two-days-of-rioting-police-report/ story-gr15IfN9Sn4so5m7Po4lTM.html. 48 Singh, A. K. (2020, July 23). We braved stones and petrol bombs to save the honour of our daughters from Islamists: Ground report from shiv vihar. OpIndia. https://www.opindia.com/2020/02/delhi-anti-hindu-riots-ground-report-shivvihar-rajdhani-school-drp-school/. 49 Trivedi, S. (2020, June 3). School owner charged with attempt to murder, rioting. The Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/school-owner-chargedwith-attempt-to-murder-rioting/article31743203.ece. 50 Sunanda Vashishth [@sunandavashisht]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from https://twitter.com/sunandavashisht 51 Skey, M. (2021, April 20). Nationalism and Media. The State of Nationalism Comments. https://stateofnationalism.eu/article/nationalism-and-media/ 52 Chayaa Nanjappa [@nanjappa_chayaa]. (n.d.). Tweets [Twitter profile]. June 15, 2021, from For details see: https://twitter.com/nanjappa_chayaa 53 I Support Modi Ji and BJP. (May 14, 2021). ह्य्पोक्रिसी. [Image attached] [Status update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/ISupportModijiandBJP/photos/ a.211817239149425/1580243252306810/?type=3 54 NaMo, The Healer [@360vue]. (2016, March 25). Now that we have celebrated #WaterlessHoli, can we have #BloodlessBakrid? #Secular #churchcrimes #KanhaiyaKumar #jnu #HinduInDanger. [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/ 360vue/status/713260901764177920 55 Hijab primarily refers to the cloth covering the head, shoulders and upper torso of Muslim women. 56 Ghoonghat is a veil which is used by women in the Indian subcontinent to cover their heads. 57 Jay [@SaffronJay]. (2020, January 17). This is the Reason Why I Call Rabid Hindu Hater @timesofindia A“Toilet-Paper” & “Times of Pakistan”. [image attached] [Tweet]. Twitter. https://twitter.com/SaffronJay/status/1218021990117912577 58 The Sham Sharma Show. (2019, September 6). Hinduphobic Indian Ads | Hinduphobia In Secular India [video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=jf9JnTudl7I

Nationalisms On(the)line  49 59 aavaj_desh_ki2 [@random_bkp]. [2021, June 22]. post by @official_artkrafter #hindulivesmatter #rss #bjp #savebangalihindus #yogiji #indiastandswithisrael #jaishriram #hinduism #hindunationbjpnamo1 #aavaj_desh_ki #sanatandharm #kattarhindu #jay_shri_ram 9w [Instagram Photo] Retrieved from https://www. intagram.com/p/CQbEwZvBIV1/?utm_medium 60 The Hindu Voice (2021, May 14). “Parshuram teaches us that Shastra and Shaastra, both are important in life and those who have the knowledge of both…” [Image attached] [Status update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/The HinduVoice/posts/1648441368684407 61 Ahmed, D. (2021, April 17). Do you have any shame. [Image attached] [Status update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=28834 1182807588&id=100048951259527 62 Rastogi, Akshay Kr. (2020, February 26). अश्चिनी मिश्र ने यमुना पार में जाकर ग्राउंड रिपोर्ट की चुनौती को स्वीकार किया। जो तस्वीर उन्हें दंगाग्रस्त इलाकों में …. [Status  update]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/akshay.k.rastogi/posts/ 10215918479265268 63 Zakir Naik is an Islamic preacher who runs one of the largest religious television chan­ nels in the world which has been banned in multiple countries due to hate speeches. He is currently wanted by the Indian government and has escaped from India. 64 NDTV. (2015, December 20). Hum Log: Why is terrorism associated with Islam? [video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXBbYvYvgLw

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3 The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot New Delhi, 2020 Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta

Introduction Rekha Ram* (name changed) recalled what a marauding mob looked like. “All of them were young, well-built, and full of rage”, said the 50-year-old municipal corporation employee who has been cleaning the streets of Shiv Vihar for over 20 years. The incidents that unravelled on the morning of February 25, 2020, in Shiv Vihar – a working-class neighbourhood located in the north-east fringe of New Delhi – caught Ram by surprise. A group of predominantly young men had captured two schools built adjacent to one another, eventually unleashing a series of unforeseen violence in the locality. The political rage the mob displayed against Muslims, Ram said, was unthinkable in Shiv Vihar, where Muslims and Hindus have stayed together for years without any communal hostility. Yet, the mob let their recently acquired fury do the talking on that fateful day. They were all masked; I think some of them were locals too. Many among them had arms and catapults which they used to throw stones and Molotov cocktails from the school roof to houses owned by Muslims across the road. They not only attacked bystanders and passersby, but they also set the school on fire. What harm did those children do to them who come to study here, Ram wondered, even as he cleaned the clogged drain with burnt books and broken bottles. Like the drain that flowed outside the schools, the streets, too, were cluttered with the debris of communal conflict. The rioters used the school’s furniture to tactically block the street separating the Hindu and Muslim localities of Shiv Vihar, thereby drawing an unofficial line between the two communities (Agha, 2020). As a Dalit, a person belonging to the lowest rung in the Hindu caste ladder, Ram had never identified himself as a pious Hindu, nor had he harboured any particular liking for Muslims. However, Ram believed all humanity appeared to be lost when the mob resolutely occupied private properties DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-3

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  53 tearing the neighbourhood asunder while simultaneously undertaking numerous wanton acts of oppression and destruction (also see De & Tripathi, 2024, Chapter 2). The optics of the division could not be missed. In the aftermath of the riots, battle lines were clearly drawn. In what may be read as an explicit act of aggression, the Hindu side of Shiv Vihar raised saffron flags almost everywhere, while the Muslim side largely reeled under the burden of their collective losses. At least two mosques were left demolished or arsoned, the smell of burnt leather-bound copies of the Quran still wafting through the air. Muslim-owned houses and shops had been either razed down to the ground or arsoned, even as those owned by Hindus remained conspicuously unscathed. The streets in the Hindu-dominated areas and public infrastructure, including a temple and a municipal office, however, were littered with loads of broken bricks that reminded one of a violent attack, possibly by a Muslim mob (Barton, 2021b; Mahaprashasta, 2020d). Shiv Vihar was only one amongst a number of working-class settlements that found itself at the centre of the sectarian violence that gripped the north-eastern fringe of the Indian capital in the last week of February 2020. Various neighbourhoods of north-east Delhi witnessed large-scale communal violence that began on the evening of February 23 and continued unabashedly until February 26. Sporadic incidents of similar violence were also reported across the capital through the week. Fifty-three people were eventually killed, two-thirds of whom were Muslims. A policeman, an intelligence officer, and around a dozen Hindus were also killed. Hundreds were left injured and displaced from their own homes (Mahaprashasta, 2020e). Multiple observers on the ground, including the residents of north-east Delhi, claimed that the official list of the dead could be more as a number of people – a majority of them Muslims – had gone missing during the riots (Chand, 2020; Khan, 2020). There is, however, no concrete estimate of those who disappeared during the period. Such was the scale of the violence that properties estimated to be worth millions were entirely gutted by fire or destroyed. A conservative estimate made by the Delhi Chamber of Commerce projected in early 2020 that the total economic cost of the riots may add up to around Rs 250 million (Agarwal & Srivas, 2020). The destruction was meant to convey an unequivocal message to the Muslim inhabitants of the locality and also perhaps the nation at large that they were up against the might of a new and confident Hindu majority emboldened and cajoled by a political leadership that saw Muslims as the “outsider” and thereby the “other”. In this chapter, I attempt to establish how the Delhi riots were a corollary of a political discourse that depends heavily on deepening existing divides to remain in a commanding position. In the case of Delhi riots, the chronology of events preceding the riots indicate how the risk of sectarian violence loomed over the Indian capital against the backdrop of an extremely hateful rhetoric perpetuated by the dominant Hindu right groups against a minority

54  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta group. In the process, the chapter also explores the state’s complicity in the violence which ultimately aided and abetted the perpetrators. In polities marked overwhelmingly by majoritarianism, dissent is often construed by the state as treason. The current Indian government and its supporters have shown similar inclinations. In this context, the chapter also shows how dissent is increasingly being met with violence in India, occasionally leading to riots as was the case in north-east Delhi. In fact, sectarian violence often serves as one of the most crucial political instruments for majoritarian parties in a digitally driven world to advance xenophobic tendencies in society. I rely heavily on my own reportage and experiences from the localities of the riot-stricken north-east Delhi, while also borrowing from a range of verifiable media reports from the time. My attempt has been to present a chronological analysis of how significant political events and ensuing debates in the months preceding the riots eventually led to violence in Delhi. Therefore, in the first section of the chapter, I explore how debates around a controversial law led to nationwide protests, which faced unprecedentedly hostile responses from different agencies of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)led governments in India. The state offensive against dissident groups, and a widespread mainstream media narrative that exclusively toed the government line, effectively alienated the Muslim community, which had already been feeling sidelined owing to a range of factors. In the second section, I document the unfolding of the Delhi riots and its significant aftermath. Here, I attempt to lay out facts that show a rather disproportionate impact of the riots on the Muslims compared to the Hindus. In the final section, I draw from multiple police chargesheets and pro-government reports to briefly analyse Delhi police’s blatantly partial probe into the riots. Unfortunately, the investigations which have also come under judicial scrutiny have bolstered far-right groups that have continued to perpetuate hateful rhetoric and communal crimes with impunity since the riots. Riot as Theatre: The Politics and Optics of Communal Rage A brief contextual analysis is imperative to understand underlying causal factors that instigated and propelled the sectarian violence as well as to grasp the scale of its significant aftermath. The riots were preceded by crucial political developments which had a critical bearing on the trajectory of the clashes between the two communities. Since December 2019, Muslim women across the country had been leading a movement against the recently promulgated Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) – a legislation that enabled the fast-tracking of Indian citizenship for those persecuted minorities who had entered India illegally from neighbouring Muslim-majority states of Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Afghanistan. The new law permitted these undocumented migrants to apply for Indian citizenship if they had entered India before December 31, 2014, as long as they aren’t Muslims. Even before the law was merely a bill in consideration,

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  55 various observers pointed out that the law’s provision to introduce religious criterion for citizenship violated the Indian secular-constitutional framework, and pandered to the Hindu right-wing, which never actually abandoned its core idea of a theocratic state, or a Hindu rashtra (Mahaprashasta, 2019; Naqvi, 2019). Newspaper editorials also pondered over the rationale behind the omission of key states such as Myanmar and Sri Lanka from the ambit of the CAA. Both Myanmar and Sri Lanka have witnessed the exodus of minorities groups who survived ethnic violence – the Rohingyas in the case of the former and the Tamils in the latter. These groups have historically taken refuge in India (Firaque & Vishwanath, 2019; The Hindu, 2019) but were left out of the new law’s purview. The CAA, which recognises only religious identities as criteria for citizenship rights, curiously fails to account for the historical persecution of sects such as the Hazaras in Afghanistan, or Shias and Ahmadiyya Muslims in Pakistan. This key lacuna was flagged by a large section of constitutional experts as a discriminatory measure compromising India’s human rights obligations (Swart, 2020). Political analysts saw the enactment of the CAA as a deliberate attempt by the Hindu nationalist BJP in power to undermine the political agency of Indian Muslims domestically, particularly as it came right after two key decisions of the state. Earlier that year, the BJP-led union government unilaterally criminalised Triple Talaq and diluted Article 370 that allowed special privileges to Jammu and Kashmir (Ali, 2020). A section of scholars perceived the criminalisation of the age-old, albeit archaic, Islamic practice of instant Triple Talaq as not only a move to override the Muslim personal law, which enjoys certain autonomy in matters of family disputes, but also as a measure to malign Muslims, as men from other communities who abandoned their wives still remained outside legal purview (Agnihotri, 2017). Similarly, the reading down of Article 370 and bifurcation of the Jammu and Kashmir province into two centrally governed union territories was widely celebrated by the pliant mainstream Indian media and the forces in the Hindu right (Dev, 2019). Article 370 of the Indian constitution guaranteed Jammu and Kashmir to have its own constitution, a separate flag and freedom to make laws, including the power to decide who could be its permanent residents under Article 35A, a sub-section of Article 370. However, matters relating to defence, external affairs, and communications remained the preserve of the government of India (EPW Engage, 2019). Hindutva groups and the BJP had long nourished the desire to strip militancy-torn Jammu and Kashmir of its special constitutional status. They believed that only such a heavy-handed move could ensure the state’s full integration into the Indian union. However, the decision was met with unanimous dissent by the leaders of Kashmir. Observers of the Kashmir valley who have studied the historical realities under which the state of Jammu and Kashmir acceded to the Indian union, necessitating the existence of Article 370, perceived the BJP-led government’s move as an executive excess. The move was also seen

56  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta by many as possibly detrimental to the delicate socio-political equilibrium hitherto maintained in the Muslim-majority Kashmir Valley (The Hindu, 2019; Jha, 2019) Demonstrations against CAA Each of these government decisions abetted the growing discomfort within the Muslim community and secular groups. The CAA, which was passed on December 11, 2019, came against the backdrop of such disenchantment against the surging majoritarian impulses of the BJP-led union government, eventually leading to nation-wide protests. Immediately after the law was passed by the Indian Parliament, Muslim women began to organise sit-ins or dharnas in various parts of the nation. The protests only grew with time. Support for the movement poured in from diverse quarters – from opposition forces to civil society groups. These groups believed that the act was inherently discriminatory in nature on grounds that it undermined ethnic identities within communities, and amplified religious affiliations of persecuted people. More importantly, they also feared that it may set a precedent for the further tinkering of citizenship rights along religious lines. Although the new law was framed as an act of benevolence, it was perceived as an act of pointed exclusion, especially by the minorities of India. Members of every faith in South Asia were included as beneficiaries in the new law – “Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, Parsis, and Christians” – except Muslims. Many democratic-minded citizens and groups saw the conspicuous omission of persecuted Muslim sects as yet another measure by the BJP-led union government to advance the ruling regime’s Hindu majoritarian political agenda (Mahaprashasta, 2019). For them, the act was the first in independent India that enshrined discrimination on the basis of religious identity. As the chief minister of the Indian state of Gujarat from 2001 to 2014, Narendra Modi and his aide Amit Shah had aggressively stoked communal tensions between Muslims and Hindus to consolidate the latter in BJP’s favour electorally (Thakur, 2002, 2019). This state-patronised “othering” of Muslims played a vital role in enabling Modi to win three consecutive terms in Gujarat. When he was selected as the prime ministerial candidate in 2013, the duo sought to emulate the same electoral formula nationally. Historically, the BJP has struggled to negotiate, within India’s robust parliamentary fray, its particular brand of Hindu nationalism vis-à-vis a larger secular imagination and ethos that has been integral to nation-making and -building. As a result, BJP leaders have been often found wanting in the face of critical queries around its extremist Hindu nationalist lineage and positions. Modi, however, has been unapologetic. His campaigns in 2014 and 2019 strategically bordered on hardline Hindutva, even as he projected himself as a blemish-free leader with a futuristic vision for India. The age-old Hindu nationalist agenda of turning India – a secular, constitutional state – into an overtly Hindu nation had existed in the cracks of

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  57 India’s democratic practice since independence. However, a majority of other political parties, which positioned themselves within an imperfect but determined democratic model of co-existence, managed to keep the BJP largely away from power. The Modi-Shah duo broke this unofficial consensus between political groups and meticulously used to its advantage India’s complex demographics to polarise the electorate along religious and caste lines. Throughout his electoral campaigns, Modi has consistently attacked the secular liberal ideal that India has historically espoused, demonstrating and establishing it as an inherently anti-Hindu model in need of urgent redressals. He believed this earlier format of maintaining a critical – albeit fragile – secular consensus was implemented by “corrupt” political parties only to “appease” minority communities. Modi positioned and branded himself as an outsider in the world of Indian politics – an almost messiah-like figure who had finally arrived to rid the nation of what was being projected by him and his critical supporters as the country’s decrepit “vote bank politics” (Desai, 2017; Sardesai, 2014). The intended polarisation worked electorally yet again, and Modi, aided by his effective communication and PR strategy, registered massive victories in the 2014 and 2019 parliamentary polls. However, minority communities, especially Muslims who comprise the major chunk, have felt wholly sidelined from mainstream political dialogues and processes over the last seven years (Agarwal & Pokharel, 2019; Chacko & Talukdar, 2020; Izzuddin et al., 2019). The reification of religious identities in the public sphere, consistently orchestrated under the careful watch of the BJP-led government, has translated into what many observers refer to as a state-sponsored loathing for India’s 172 million Indian Muslims on the ground. Enthused by policies and  government decisions that overtly or covertly sidelined Muslims, several  fringe Hindu right groups have increasingly displayed unapologetic Islamophobic sentiments with unprecedented impunity over the last seven years. Many of them directly targeted Muslims; some of such incidents have led to horrific mob lynchings (The Quint, 2019). In the same period, a surge in low-intensity Hindu-Muslim riots have also been reported (Factchecker Team, 2018; Ranjan, 2017). In his second term as India’s prime minister, Modi moved fast to enact the Hindu nationalist demand of stripping Jammu and Kashmir of its constitutional status, as his party BJP had promised in its election manifesto. His government revoked Jammu and Kashmir’s special status and reconstituted the state into two centrally governed union territories. While doing so, the government placed all politicians of Kashmir Valley under a prolonged house arrest and shut down the internet indefinitely, literally isolating the state from the outside world (Varadarajan, 2019). Immediately on the heels of this mammoth and definitive decision, the Supreme Court passed a contradictory order ending the decades-long Ram Janmabhoomi land dispute at Ayodhya – an issue that has been at the heart

58  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta of Hindu nationalist politics in independent India. The apex court ruled that the disputed land was to be handed over to Hindu organisations to build a Ram temple, while also acknowledging in the same order that Hindu mobs had illegally destroyed the Babri mosque that had stood at the site until 1992 (The Wire Analysis, 2019). The controversial judgement emboldened Hindutva groups further, even as Modi and the BJP left no stone unturned to take credit for the court’s order. The next section argues how two significant developments proved definitive in the run-up to the Delhi riots – new legislation in the form of CAA and the proposed National Register of Indian Citizens (NRC); and the Delhi assembly elections that happened in early February heralding the fledgling Aam Admi Party (AAP) back to power for a second term. In separate ways, both events played pivotal roles in shaping the course that the riots were to take and framing the narratives around it post the arson and violence. State Hegemony and Cementing Divisions The citizenship law, and the union government’s aggressive advocacy of a proposed National Register of Indian Citizens (NRC) intended to detect and oust “illegal immigrants”, cemented insecurities among Muslims even further. In multiple political rallies, the union home minister Amit Shah had strongly shown his inclination to implement a nation-wide NRC exercise which would officially record legal Indian citizens as per the Citizenship Act 1955 and create a pan-India database. The fervour with which the union home minister, perceived as a Hindutva hardliner, advocated a nation-wide NRC government fuelled anxieties among minority groups (Chakravarty, 2019). The CAA, read with the proposed NRC, was seen by a large section of secular-minded citizens as challenging the very existence of Muslims in India. The sentiment sparked a series of spontaneous, peaceful protests across India. Several universities, civil society groups, and minority communities organised dharnas demanding a repeal of the controversial law. Perhaps, for the first time in independent India, Muslim women and their leadership inspired a pan-India movement against CAA/NRC. It all began when a group of unlettered elderly women, fondly called Dadis (grandmothers in Hindi), from Shaheen Bagh, a small Muslim ghetto in south Delhi, decided to participate in a sit-in against the new law. They braved the harsh Delhi winters, threats by police and right-wing groups, adversarial media reporting, and provocation but did not leave the protest site. The Shaheen Bagh protest inspired similar sit-ins across India, from metropolises and small towns to villages and kasbas. Muslim women everywhere mustered the courage to challenge the new laws peacefully. It appeared as if their dissent had become viral, various groups taking a cue from Shaheen Bagh to organise their own neighbourhood dharnas.

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  59 For the BJP-led union government and other state governments where the party was at the helm, the protests came as yet another opportunity to polarise the electorate along religious lines. Several BJP leaders, including at least two union ministers, dismissed the protests as influenced by foreign Islamist forces and propagated the idea that the agitations were backed by foreign powers keen on destabilising the Modi government (Pandey, 2020). At the same time, the police in BJP-ruled states dealt with protestors with a heavy hand. They attacked marchers with wooden staves, tear-gassed New Delhi-based Jamia Millia Islamia university’s library, detained scores of people merely for dissidence, and charged them with the stringent National Security Act. In several states, including the most populous north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, a blanket ban on any gathering was imposed to prevent any protest. In Uttar Pradesh, the BJP-ruled state government went a step further, passing orders to confiscate properties of protestors, even as it decided to hang large billboards displaying photographs and contact details of protestors who were fined for participating in demonstrations against CAA. In addition, the government shut down the internet at will around the time. The union government aided the Islamophobic agenda by defending the CAA, claiming that it was an act that projected India as a benevolent nation and tactically refrained from responding to any criticisms against it. At the same time, it mobilised its sympathisers to run a campaign against anti-CAA protestors. Despite all such efforts by the government, the protestors refused to budge. The demonstrations spread far and kept increasing by the day. The widespread and frenzied xenophobic sentiments the BJP was whipping up in the process of suppressing dissent against CAA/NRC was generously tapped into during its electoral mobilisation for the February 2020 assembly polls in Delhi, which saw the party run one of its most communally charged campaigns yet. BJP leaders like West Delhi parliamentarian Parvesh Verma and union minister Anurag Thakur held rallies in which they openly equated the anti-CAA protestors with “jihadis” and “traitors”, even as their slogans called for shooting the protestors. The party’s campaign line, clearly intended to polarise the electorate, focused on the “illegitimacy” of Shaheen Bagh and other such protests in the capital city. However, its primary opponent, the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP), deftly stayed away from responding to such allegations and concentrated its campaign on the development work it had done during its five-year tenure. Eventually, when the assembly results came in mid-February, AAP comprehensively defeated the BJP to form the government again in Delhi. However, an analysis of the results demonstrated that the BJP’s performance in north-east Delhi, where the riots were to break out soon after elections, was much better than the rest of the capital city. Moreover, the HinduMuslim polarisation strategy intrinsic to the union government-backed pro-CAA sentiment paid dividends for BJP’s electoral performance in east Delhi.

60  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta The BJP had concentrated much of its anti-Muslim campaign in north-east Delhi, which has a sizeable Muslim population. Out of the 70 seats, BJP could win only eight while the rest went to AAP. Despite its overall poor performance, the saffron party won six of its eight seats in east Delhi. In most other seats of east Delhi, which it could not win, the BJP showed a substantial increase in its vote share, especially in the eight seats that would later witness the maximum violence during the riots (Menon, 2020). Despite being handed a comprehensive defeat, the BJP machinery vilified Muslims for voting largely against BJP. The community’s vote for AAP was projected as an “anti-Hindu” act. For instance, Mustafabad in north-east Delhi was won by AAP’s Haji Yunus, a senior politician who defeated BJP’s sitting legislator Jagdish Pradhan. Commenting on Yunus’s win, BJP’s national social media head Amit Malviya indicated in a tweet that Pradhan had taken a lead of nearly 30,000 votes in the Hindu-dominated booths but Yunus surpassed him in most booths which Muslim voters dominated. “It (the voting pattern) tells us what really lurks under the surface of Indian secularism”, Malviya commented, in a not-so-veiled criticism of Muslim voting preference of the area (Malviya, 2020). It is pertinent to note that Mustafabad would be one of the worst-affected areas during the impending riots. A week later, the violence that erupted in north-east Delhi was concentrated mainly in eight assembly constituencies of east Delhi – Seelampur, Babarpur, Gokulpuri, Ghonda, Mustafabad Karawal Nagar, Laxmi Nagar, and Rohtas Nagar. BJP had registered a marked increase in its vote share in each of these constituencies compared to its performance in the earlier 2015 assembly polls. While BJP’s overall vote share in Delhi had increased only by around 6.2%, its vote share in riot-affected assembly seats had swelled substantially. For instance, in Gokalpuri, where the rioting first began on February 23, BJP’s vote share increased by 14.6% during the 2020 assembly polls. Similarly, in Karawal Nagar, which the BJP won, its vote share went up by nearly 17%, while it registered its maximum increase of 18.6% in Ghonda, again one of the worst-affected by the riots (Menon, 2020). There may or may not be a direct correlation between BJP’s improved electoral performance in the riot-affected assembly seats, but it provides critical background in terms of better comprehending the deepening communal divides in north-east Delhi. It also helps provide a more attentive and comprehensive view of how polarising electoral campaigns foster and fuel discourses of hate, the repercussions of which are felt and lived through much longer than the average life of an election. Anatomy of a Riot During and since the riots, many media reports painstakingly documented the clashes between Hindus and Muslims in north-east Delhi over the four days it lasted. On the basis of these and personal reportage, a few observations may be conclusively drawn.

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  61 One, the communal clashes were primarily instigated when Hindutva mobs attacked people at the anti-CAA protest sites. BJP leader Kapil Mishra’s now-infamous incendiary speech at Jaffrabad threatening the demonstrators to leave the protest site in front of a deputy commissioner rank official of the Delhi police on February 23 is a case in point. Within hours of his speech, clashes began in the Jaffrabad-Maujpur area. Similar inflammatory speeches by saffron party leaders and activists were reported in other localities of north-east Delhi. “Jai Shri Ram”, invoking Lord Ram in the Hindu pantheon, became a war cry for rioters (Barton, 2020a; Mahaprashasta, 2020b. Hate slogans equating anti-CAA activists with “traitors” or “jihadis” pervaded the air during the violent incidents (John & Singh, 2020). In detailed investigative reports that The Caravan magazine published, witnesses gave vivid accounts of the complicity of both the Delhi police and BJP leaders in the violence, while no such organised attempt from the side of Muslims came to light. In multiple witness accounts made to the Delhi police, the victims named BJP leaders Kapil Mishra, a sitting member of parliament Satya Pal Singh, Uttar Pradesh assembly member Nand Kishore Gujjar, former Delhi legislator Jagdish Pradhan, and saffron party member and Delhi’s Karawal Nagar representative Mohan Singh Bisht, along with members of far-right groups like Bajrang Dal and Vishwa Hindu Parishad, as some of the chief instigators of the violence (John & Singh, 2020). From most accounts, the concerted attacks followed a specific modus operandi. It invariably began with attacks on anti-CAA protest sites, following which the violence spread to streets and localities in the vicinity. In my reporting of the riots, every witness account confirmed the pattern. The mob demolished protest sites at Jaffrabad, Chand Bagh, Mustafabad, Khajuri Khas, Karawal Nagar, and other such small protest sites before it went on to unleash destruction in other parts of the neighbourhood. The site at Shaheen Bagh in south Delhi, however, remained untouched by the violence. The execution of the riots was almost entirely restricted to the poorer and serried neighbourhoods of north-east Delhi and its border areas (Mahaprashasta, 2020c). Two, the Hindus almost everywhere had the upper hand in the clashes because they appeared to be more organised and better armed with staves, Molotov cocktails, and, on few occasions, guns and pistols. On the other hand, Muslims battled mostly with stones and bricks and other arms only after they realised there was no going back from the clashes. As the riots progressed over three days, the Muslim community too organised themselves and attacked a number of Hindu-dominated localities, the worst-affected being Yamuna Vihar and Brijpuri areas (Mahaprashasta, 2020c). The asymmetrical nature of the violence is reflected in even official figures. In an annexure to one of the affidavits submitted to the Delhi high court on July 13, 2020, the Delhi police list the dead left in the wake of the riots. It claims that 77% of the civilians killed – 40 out of 52 – were Muslim, while the remaining 12 were Hindus. The 53rd victim was a policeman, head constable Ratan Lal, who died of gunshot wounds (Varadarajan, 2020).

62  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta A separate annexure also lists the number of houses damaged, although a large section of witnesses and observers dismissed it as an undercount. Yet, the official figures give a good sense of which community lost most during the riots. The Delhi police, which functions under the BJP-led union government, presented to the court a total of 185 houses that were damaged in the riots, out of which 14 belonged to Hindus, while 50 were owned by Muslims. The rest, the police said, was “unknown”. If an area-wise break-up is accurately incorporated in the same annexure, the Muslim tally rises from 50 to 90, representing a gross underestimation. The Delhi police wilfully withheld the community-wise break-up for Khajuri Khas and Karawal Nagar – both localities where the largest number of Muslim houses were destroyed during the riots. The same pattern is seen in the counting/undercounting of damage to shops. Going by the annexure, 53.4% of destroyed shops belonged to Muslims compared to 14%, which Hindus owned. However, since the police did not do a religion-wise break up of damage at Khajuri Khas and Karawal Nagar, “unknown” remains at 32.4%. The annexures and media reports make it clear that a vast majority of Muslims appear to have been the target for 80–85% of the attacks on shops and businesses. There were several mechanisms by which the rioters identified shops, houses, cars as belonging to one particular community. For instance, while speaking to a magazine, a Hindu rioter said that the mob identified vehicles and houses by the inscription of the number “786” – a number considered holy by Muslims, or by Arabic inscriptions imprinted on the properties (John & Singh, 2020). Similarly, in Shiv Vihar, a Hindu victim told this correspondent that the Muslim mob identified Hindu houses by the signs of “Happy Diwali” – posters that most north-Indian Hindu families hang in their homes during the Indian festival Diwali. Both communities felt that an overt display of religious symbols in the houses and properties operated as a double-edged sword. As a result, a Muslim mob was more likely to attack houses with Hindu symbols while leaving out Muslim households with Islamic markers. The same was true for a Hindu mob which was more likely to attack houses with Islamic symbols (Mahaprashasta, 2020d). At every location of violence, people complained of Delhi police’s inaction, irrespective of whether they were Hindus or Muslims. Multiple records of victims claimed that the Delhi police’s response mechanism to distress calls was weak. From areas like Chand Bagh, Mustafabad, Yamuna Vihar, Brijpuri, and Shiv Vihar, where this correspondent reported, both Hindus and Muslims claimed that Delhi police personnel arrived after the clashes ended, leaving both communities to defend themselves (Jayaprakash, 2020b). After the first day of clashes between the communities, Section 144 of the Indian Penal Code, prohibiting a gathering of more than four or more people, was imposed. Yet, rioting mobs moved around with impunity. On February 24, even as the rioting mob moved around with swords, wooden

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  63 staves, tube lights, and empty glass bottles, this correspondent asked the policemen deputed there about their inaction against such violation of the law. However, most of them either refused to answer or said they had not been ordered to arrest anyone yet. In a similar vein, most victims spoke openly about how either police remained mute spectators while the rioters indulged in violence or arrived late on the scene. In a few places like Chand Bagh, some witnesses made serious allegations that the police assisted the Hindu rioting mob in demolishing the anti-CAA protest site (Singh, 2020). Several people in both Hindu- and Muslim-dominated areas said that in the three days when riots continued unabated, frequent calls to the nearby police stations or Delhi police’s central lines went unanswered. Many said that even if the police answered and assured them of action, there was barely any deployment of forces in the riot-torn areas. Against this backdrop, many independent observers questioned the role of union home ministry that governs the Delhi police. The ministry deployed the Rapid Action Force, a special paramilitary unit to contain riots, only on February 25 – while the clashes began in many places on the evening of February 23 (Jayaprakash, 2020b). These critical details raise compelling questions around the government’s competence and general intent in controlling the riots, especially because a large part of the riots coincided with US president Donald Trump’s visit to India. The government has failed to answer these pertinent questions despite repeated queries, merely claiming that its intervention prevented killings after February 25, 2020 (Jayaprakash, 2020b). The late deployment of riot police in north-east Delhi is even more perplexing because multiple reports had confirmed that the Delhi police was well aware of the deteriorating situation at Jaffrabad metro station from the afternoon of February 23, even before Kapil Mishra gave his inflammatory speech at the location. The police’s special branch and intelligence wing, too, had already sent at least six alerts to the police headquarters about the worsening situation in north-east Delhi (Ajmal & Ibrar, 2020). Conspiracy Theories and Riot Narratives: The Erosion of Dissent Any discussion on the Delhi riots will be incomplete if the struggle of hundreds of victims to seek justice is not explored. The way Delhi police’s investigations into the riots were subsequently carried out has concerned many. It gradually became clear to multiple independent observers that the police were being selective about its probe in framing and charging the accused persons. The four days of violence left the entire north-east Delhi in a debilitating mess. Millions of properties were lost, many had gone missing apart from those who were officially counted dead, even as hundreds of victims still battle injuries. Yet, curiously, the Delhi police attempted to build a narrative that the anti-CAA protestors instigated, planned, and carried out the riots (Iyer &

64  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta Menon, 2020a). According to the Delhi Police, the riots were a culmination of a “deep-rooted conspiracy” by Muslim activists opposed to the CAA and NRC to embarrass India internationally, especially at a time when the then US president Donald Trump was visiting the country (The Wire Analysis, 2020). Trump was on a state visit to India on February 24 and 25. In the same vein, the Delhi police has attempted to churn out a theory that the entire opposition to CAA since December had been planned to defame India on the international stage. It pointed out that Jamia Millia Islamia university’s protests that began in December were also part of the riot conspiracy, curiously ignoring the many other university protests against the contentious law across the country. Delhi police has sought to buttress its claim by citing some scattered incidents of violence that happened in the national capital prior to the February riots. A detailed examination of chargesheets filed by the police in cases related to the riots shows a crucial pattern. In a majority of the chargesheets, the police advanced the theory that provocation by Muslim protestors opposed to the CAA and NRC led to communal clashes. In those chargesheets which document violence led by Hindu mobs, the police claimed that the Hindus retaliated against alleged Muslim aggression. Significantly, while the “conspiracy” angle is drummed up in the chargesheets where Muslims have been named, “revenge” and “retaliation” are mentioned as rationale in those cases where the accused were Hindus (John & Singh, 2020). However, these phantom accounts fail to cover a critical lacuna. Some of the chargesheets by Delhi police alleged that three primary planners of the violence – Aam Aadmi Party councillor Tahir Hussain, former JNU student and activist Umar Khalid, and anti-CAA group United Against Hate’s prominent member Khalid Saifi, all of whom are incarcerated under the stringent Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) – planned a “big blast” in New Delhi at the time of Trump’s visit to “defame the country in international arena”. The trio, according to the Delhi police, met at Shaheen Bagh on January 8, 2020, to plan the “conspiracy”. However, claims of the police came crashing down when the media house The Quint pointed out that there were no reports of Trump’s visit either by the government or any other media outlet before January 13, 2020 (Iyer & Menon, 2020). In what appears to be an afterthought, the Delhi police later changed the date of the alleged meeting to “16–17 February” (Iyer & Menon, 2020). Strangely, while the first reports on Trump’s visit came only on January 13, the chronology cited in chargesheets establishes that the “conspiracy” angle events go back to December (Iyer & Menon, 2020). More importantly, the democratic protests against CAA in the riot-torn areas had been entirely peaceful since December when they started. In an affidavit filed in the Delhi High Court on 13 July, the police claimed that the protestors at the first site of violence Jaffrabad had blocked the roads to trap non-Muslims wilfully and timed it in concurrence with Trump’s visit. However, it is known widely that most anti-CAA protestors across the

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  65 country had decided to stage a “chakka jam”, or road block, agitation on February 23 in solidarity with the Dalit group Bhim Army’s call for a nationwide strike in opposition to the CAA. How the Delhi police concluded that a plan to observe a “chakka jam” to facilitate protests was a conspiracy to carry out violence against Hindus is unclear. What is clear, however, is that the Delhi police’s version of riots is in line with the BJP’s campaign about it. Moreover, the police chargesheets treat the anti-CAA protestors as a homogeneous group, failing to account for multiple differences between them during the course of the protests. A pertinent instance would be the way protestors at Shaheen Bagh distanced themselves from a student activist Sharjeel Imam after he unilaterally called off the protest a few weeks into it. He is one of the accused in the riots probe for a speech he made in Aligarh, around 120 miles away from Delhi, and is currently in prison. Several such debates and differences between anti-CAA groups regarding the mode and method of the protests have been documented amply. Additionally, the police fail to note that the violent incidents at Jamia Millia Islamia and Delhi Gate in December (these incidents find mention in the chronology cited by the police to establish a conspiracy angle) saw clashes between police personnel and anti-CAA protestors, whereas the February clashes happened primarily between pro-Hindutva activists and anti-CAA protestors. According to its affidavit, the police has filed 750 first-information reports and 200 chargesheets related to the riots. It also claims to have arrested more than 1,500 people. Yet, it is strange that no action has been taken against BJP leaders like Kapil Mishra, Satya Pal Singh, and Jagdish Pradhan, who victims have named as instigators in multiple complaints. The questionable role of the leaders is conspicuously missing from the Delhi police’s narrative (Singh, 2020). It has registered at least 18 UAPA cases in 2020 against a range of accused persons, most of them who are students, feminists, and young democratic activists (Bhatnagar, 2021). The UAPA is a stringent and repressive law in which the police can press non-bailable terrorism charges against the accused. Most of the UAPA accused are those who were not only active participants in the demonstrations against CAA but have been vocal critics of the current BJP-led central government. Even as Delhi police’s investigations were being criticised widely, its special commissioner for crime sent a written instruction to all senior officers cautioning them against “arrests of some Hindu youth” as a preventive measure to contain “resentment among the Hindu community”. After widespread flak, the police backtracked and said that the purpose of the letter was only to inform officers of the Hindu leaders’ viewpoint. In contrast, the Delhi police, while trying to establish its claim about the Delhi riots being a “conspiracy” by anti-CAA demonstrators, named in one of its many chargesheets the Communist Party of India (Marxist) general secretary Sitaram Yechury, renowned economist Jayati Ghosh, Delhi University professor and public intellectual Apoorvanand, Swaraj Abhiyan

66  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta leader Yogendra Yadav, and documentary filmmaker Rahul Roy, among other prominent personalities, as persons who had allegedly encouraged the protesters as part of a “plan”. Importantly, all these personalities have been vocal critics of the controversial legislation and had aired their views openly, either at various protest sites or in the media (Mahaprashasta, 2020e). In a similarly bizarre accusation, the police also produced transcripts of chats in a WhatsApp group called the Delhi Protests Support Group (DPSG) to target a range of eminent citizens. The group had diverse members, mostly cultural and political activists, all of whom were all publicly opposed to CAA. The group was formed to provide intellectual and logistical help to the antiCAA activists who had been protesting at various sites. The chats clearly showed that members debated, discussed, and even differed with each other on various tactics to make their protests heard. The police singled out a specific debate on whether “chakka jam” is a legitimate protest tactic to name some group members as possible instigators of the violence (Mahaprashasta, 2020a). Much of the Delhi police narrative closely aligns with the Hindu right campaign before and after the riots indicating a larger complicity of the state machinery in advancing xenophobic crimes (Varadarajan et al., 2021a). Ever since Muslim women started to stage sit-ins against CAA/NRC, Hindu right groups had been overly active in dismissing what was perhaps the biggest dissidence during Modi’s regime. While the dharnas were termed by Hindutva activists as a “foreign-funded” Islamist conspiracy, some alleged the agitations to be the handiwork of “‘Urban-Naxal-Jihadi’ network” (a term coined by the Hindu right to discredit liberal-democratic dissenters and civil society/ academia) (Jayaprakash, 2020a). The same activists attempted to brand the sectarian violence as an “antiHindu” riot. At least two such associations – Group of Intellectuals and Academicians (GIA) and Call For Justice (CFJ) – presented their reports to the union home ministry reiterating the conspiracy angle, even before the Delhi police fully espoused the hypothesis (Jayaprakash, 2020a). The 48-page report by the GIA was titled “Delhi Riots 2020: Report from Ground Zero – The Shaheen Bagh Model in North-East Delhi: From Dharna to Danga”, while the CFJ titled its report “Delhi Riots: Conspiracy Unraveled” – Report of Fact Finding Committee on Riots in North-East Delhi during 23.02.2020 to 26.02.2020. The reports were part of an organised effort to make the perpetrators of violence look like victims. The findings of these reports need to be closely studied not for its rigour but for gleaning the scope and potential of building a defense narrative – an element the Delhi police seems to have been quick to pick up on and emulate in the months following the riots. Consider some of the following conclusions made in the reports. Both of them say that the Delhi riots were “pre-planned” and could have been a part of a “Left-Jihadi model of revolution” sought to be replicated across India by the far-left political forces. “The Delhi riots are not genocide or a pogrom targeted at any community. They are a tragic outcome of a planned and

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  67 systematic radicalisation of the minorities by a far left-Urban Naxal network operating in universities in Delhi”, the GIA report concluded. Its findings were reproduced almost verbatim in the Organiser – the official mouthpiece of BJP’s ideological parent the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). The magazine decried that a large section of the Indian and Western media deliberately gave a partisan outlook to the riots to make Hindu victims look like perpetrators of the violence. The CFJ report, too, concluded that the riots were planned and executed to specifically target the Hindu community even as official records, evidence from the ground, and the nature of property losses all persuasively indicate the opposite. The botched-up probe into the riots have also come under judicial scanner. On August 28, 2020, a Delhi court came down heavily on the Delhi police, while noting the “poor standard of investigation in a large number of riot cases”. The judge alleged that the police did not take the probe to its “logical end” after “filing half-baked chargesheets in court” and called for immediate remedial action. The court was hearing a case in which the police had accused two alleged rioters, Ashraf Ali and Parvez, of throwing acid at police officers during the riots (Thapliyal, 2021). Similarly, a Delhi court had in July questioned the Delhi police’s claims of “fairness” while investigating the loss of vision sustained by a Muslim man owing to a gunshot injury during the riots. The court also censured Delhi police for resisting the complainant’s FIR, despite the fact that he was being threatened by the accused persons regularly. Pronouncing the investigation in the case as executed “in a most casual, callous and farcical manner”, the court imposed a fine of Rs 25,000 on Delhi police (Singh, 2021) What is clear is that the violation of law that happened at multiple levels was sought to be supplemented by a sectarian propaganda which even the state agencies seemed eager to espouse. The victims of violence, as a result, have been left to struggle for even a semblance of justice, while the arrested activists continue to remain incarcerated. The Aftermath: Media, Rumours, and Burgeoning Mistrust The Delhi violence was perhaps one of the few riots significantly covered by the electronic media. However, a substantial chunk of mainstream television media has come under scathing criticism over the last few years for gradually surrendering its critical role as a democratic watchdog and being quick to transform into compliant and sophisticated government propaganda platforms. In such a context, the televised nature of the Delhi riots amplified the Hindu Right’s version of the violence. Such media coverage also sent across a clear and salient message to minorities and other oppositional forces that those in power would brook no dissent. The riots, in a way, broke the spirit of anti-CAA agitations across the country. The way in which protest sites became the first casualties of the riots, and how democratic activists were

68  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta incarcerated systematically, conveyed a larger threat to dissidents in an explicit attempt to silence resistance of any kind or form. Apart from forcefully curtailing voices of dissent, the Delhi riots of February, 2020, had a multi-layered impact on the social and political fabric of the riot-affected parts of north-east Delhi as well as the larger National Capital Region. The hate-filled campaign around CAA, which finally culminated in the riots, impacted communitarian relations in north-east Delhi like never before. Religious fault lines sharpened, prejudices deepened, and power equations visibly tilted in favour of the majority Hindu community. The demographic make-up of north-east Delhi, which has had largely harmonious relations between communities until the riots, indicates that such inimical relations can only make the state of affairs increasingly volatile. According to the 2011 Census, the dense and concentrated working-class neighbourhoods of north-east Delhi are home to over 22 lakh people. The majority of the population is Hindu, at 68.22%, while 29.34% is Muslim (Census, 2011). This shift in community sentiments is powerfully reflected in some of the interviews I conducted with Hindu and Muslim respondents from different parts of north-east Delhi. Many of them had not been impacted by the riots but had polarising and strong opinions nonetheless and did not seem keen on building relations at all. Hindus appeared to see Muslims as the sole reason for the violence. Consider some of these on-the-record statements by residents of the riot-affected areas (De and Tripathi, Chapter 2, Same volume Cross Reference to the chapter titled “Nationalisms on(the)line: New Media and the Fanning of Fear and Xenophobia”): This time Hindus have told them clearly that ‘Jis thali mein khate ho, us thali mein ched nahin kar sakte (You can’t drill a hole in the plate that you eat from)’, said a Hindu resident of Yamuna Vihar People are born to various faiths. But I just want to say that no other community is as traitorous as them, another Hindu man from Maujpur said. When I asked him about incendiary speeches made by BJP leaders such as Kapil Mishra, They did not say anything wrong. Why should they live in India and protest against Indian laws? They are nothing less than terrorists. He further added that if the Muslims had not organised protests and blocked streets, the violence could have been avoided. In Shiv Vihar, an elderly Hindu woman told two correspondents of The Wire: In Hindu-dominated neighbourhoods, Muslims were fine. They can even come back now. But in Muslim-dominated neighbourhoods, Hindus are not safe. They will be killed…We helped them [Muslims who lived in the same lane] survive. We guarded them. We stood

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  69 outside the lanes and told the mobs that there are no Muslims here. But now they are turning around and saying ‘Hindus burnt our home’ and ‘Hindus wanted to kill us’. How is that fair? Now we are scared, what if they come back and decide to take revenge. (Agarwal & Sen, 2020) Another telling example is a story incorporating an interview with a Hindu rioter, a member of the extremist group Bajrang Dal, that The Caravan magazine published: He described Muslims as “merciless,” and accused them of always instigating violence. He claimed that Muslims are loyal to Pakistan, which was their rightful country—a common refrain among members of the Hindu Right in India, including prominent BJP leaders “Hindus never fight first, it is always the Muslims who fight first. We thought, ‘Let’s end this once and for all,’” he told us. He cited other misinformation, such as the unproven claim that the population of Muslims is rising extraordinarily. He claimed that Muslims all have “ten children … that their population has risen a lot.” His claim echoed that of many BJP supporters and leaders, some of whom have previously demanded population-control measures against Muslims. “I would like for all Hindu brothers from Pakistan to come here and for Muslims to go there … then there will not be any fighting”, the 22-year-old said. “They are Muslims, they will never improve, they will attack us one day or another … this is true. Hindu brothers must be prepared.” (Pandey & Tantray, 2020) It may also be noted that while the Hindus don’t seem hesitant to speak about the riots, the Muslims largely wanted to stay away from media glare assuming that the media would only advance Hindu Right’s narratives. The few who did speak to the media justified their views against CAA, and blamed the Hindutva organisations squarely for the violence in their areas. However, they refrained from clubbing the Hindu communities with the Hindu right organisations. “They (the mob) identified Muslim households and shops, and systematically attacked them. Most were drunk. They chanted ‘Jai Shri Ram’. I am sure a true Hindu would never approve of this hooliganism,” a Muslim respondent at Chand Bagh told me. Responding to a question on whether the Muslims also indulged in violence, a Muslim resident at Mustafabad told me, “We had to defend ourselves. But we did not intend to hurt any of our Hindu neighbours. You can come and see.

70  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta There are three Hindu temples in our locality. We did not even touch them.” He added that the Hindu mob in contrast specifically targeted Muslim places of worship in most riot-affected areas, a fact that even the Delhi police concedes. A Muslim woman whose father lost his footwear shop in the violence told reporters in what seemed a clear breakdown of trust: Everyone told father not to open the shop in a Hindu area. But he said it would be safe, that these Hindus are our friends. But what happened? They climbed on the top floor. They looted. And they set everything on fire, she said. (Agarwal & Srivas, 2020) The only aspect common in responses of both the communities was that their opinions were shaped hugely by rumours, misinformation, and fake news that has become a new normal in India (Cross-reference to De and Tripathi, 2024). Several videos of violence which triggered hate were widely circulated on mobile phones during the riots. These played a significant role in stoking communal sentiments even further. The reverberations of such polarising opinions appear to have spread to the rest of Delhi too. Enthused by the impunity they have enjoyed, Hindu rights groups have organised marches and demonstrations across Delhi, brazenly making xenophobic statements against Muslims. One such striking incident of such a rally by some far-right groups was in south-west Delhi’s Dwarka against the Delhi government’s decision to construct a Hajj house in a Hindu-majority area (Ara, 2021). In yet another such hateful show at central Delhi, far-right groups, while demanding a uniform civil code in India, gave open and loud calls for a genocide of Muslims. Some of the organisers of the event were arrested subsequently (The Wire Staff, 2021). In Conclusion Eminent political scientist Ashutosh Varshney, who has extensively researched riot patterns in India, claims that exempting the 1984 anti-Sikh violence, which scholars have dubbed as a pogrom, the 2020 Delhi sectarian clashes comprise the biggest riots in the national capital since 1950. He believes that the first day of the Delhi violence was not a pogrom and that clashes may have spontaneously happened between the anti-CAA protestors and the Hindu mob. However, he adds that the next two days “began to look like a pogrom, as the police watched attacks on the Muslims and was either unable to intervene or unwilling to do so, while some cops clearly abetted the violence” (Varshney, 2020). He argues that when state power blatantly embraces a majoritarian, sectarian agenda as the BJP-led government has done in India, “a recognisably clear incentive structure is created within the party”. He says that the Delhi

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  71 riots, in this context, witnessed the ugliest form of what social scientists have referred to as the “principal-agent” problem. He explains the phenomenon further while writing for the Indian daily The Indian Express: Those displaying larger communal bigotry, those publicly abusing political dissenters as seditious traitors, think that they will be rewarded by the party. The tap can be turned off by the bosses, as happened after three days last week, but the agents below can also turn on the tap without any explicit instructions from the principals above. He points out that such a system legitimised bigotry while propagating the dismissal of dissent on account of “national disloyalty”. The 2020 Delhi riots, now imprinted in national memory, were meticulously designed to cripple the Muslim community socially and economically, sowing the seeds for long-term distress and persecution. Varying factors, including the state’s culpability, coalesced to enable the brutal execution of the riots leading to the further oppression of a minority community that has increasingly been reeling under the immense burden of methodically orchestrated hate. The genealogies of longer xenophobic traditions perpetuated by the ultra-nationalist Hindu extremist forces played out during the Delhi riots. In its bid to gain political power, the Hindu right has ensured the consistent erasure of India’s syncretic and secular practices of cohabitation and coexistence. Bibliography Agarwal, Kabir & Sen, Jahnavi, (2020, March 2). Ground report: ‘Normalcy’ returns to a corner of Delhi, but fear and grief are a step away, The Wire. https://thewire. in/communalism/shiv-vihar-delhi-riots Agarwal, Kabir & Srivas, Anuj (2020, March 1). A Hindu-owned parking garage, a Muslim-owned footwear shop and a 2 km stretch of riot hell, The Wire. https:// thewire.in/political-economy/braijpuri-mustafabad-delhi-riot-businesses-arson Agarwal, Vibhuti & Pokharel, Krishna (2019, December 20). With protests, India’s Muslims push back against Modi government, The Wall Street Journal. https:// www.wsj.com/articles/with-protests-indias-muslims-push-back-against-modigovernment-11576866067 Agha, Eram (2020, March 4). Over 2,000 outsiders occupied two schools to carry out Delhi riots, says state minorities panel report, News 18. https://www.news18.com/ news/india/class-warfare-over-2000-outsiders-occupied-two-schools-to-carry-outdelhi-riots-says-state-minorities-panel-report-2525473.html Agnihotri, Indu (2017, April 24). Is the BJP’s sudden interest in abolishing triple talaq really about empowering Muslim women? The Wire. https://thewire.in/gender/ triple-talaq-muslim-women-bjp Ajmal, Anam & Ibrar, Mohammad (2020, February 28). Delhi riots: Marauding mobs vent fury on schools too, The Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/ city/delhi/marauding-mobs-vent-fury-on-schools-too/articleshow/74348358.cms

72  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta Ali, Asim (2020, August 10). Art 370, CAA, triple talaq, Ram Mandir are just one cycle of Modi’s ‘permanent revolution’, The Print. https://theprint.in/opinion/art370-caa-triple-talaq-ram-mandir-are-just-one-cycle-of-modis-permanent-revolution/ 478415/ Ara, Ismat (2021, August 6). Hindutva groups target Haj house in Dwarka, call it ‘terrorism in our peaceful Area’, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/hajhouse-dwarka-construction-delhi Barton, Naomi (2020a, February 25). At Gokalpuri tyre market, fire rages as Hindutva activists shout slogans, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/gokalpuri-tyremarket-fire-jai-shree-ram Barton, Naomi (2020b, February 29). Delhi riots: Stolen in the looting, baby Shoes, never worn, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/delhi-riots-stolen-in-thelooting-baby-shoes-never-worn Barton, Naomi (2021a, February 25). Delhi riots one year on: As Ashok Nagar mosque went up in flames, so did bonds between neighbours, The Wire. https://thewire.in/ communalism/delhi-riots-one-year-ashok-nagar-jai-shri-ram-police-muslims Barton, Naomi (2021b, March 1). Living with the mob: In Shiv Vihar, were local rioters paid to target Muslims? The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/shivvihar-communal-violence-local-rioters Bhatnagar, Gaurav Vivek (2021, August 16). Delhi arrested 34 under UAPA in 2020. Here’s why the Home Ministry won’t list them out, The Wire. https://thewire. in/government/details-of-the-9-uapa-firs-that-the-union-govt-refused-to-share-inparliament Census (2011). https://www.census2011.co.in/data/religion/district/170-north-eastdelhi.html Chacko, Priya & Talukdar, Ruchira (2020, March 3). Why Modi’s India has become a dangerous place for Muslims, The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/ why-modis-india-has-become-a-dangerous-place-for-muslims-132591 Chakravarty, Ipsita (2019, July 15). Explainer: What exactly is the National Register of Citizens? Scroll. https://scroll.in/article/930482/explainer-what-exactly-is-thenational-register-of-citizens Chand, Sakshi (2020, February 29). On a wing & a prayer: People run from pillar to post to trace missing relatives, The Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes. com/city/delhi/on-a-wing-a-prayer-people-run-from-pillar-to-post-to-trace-missingrelatives/articleshow/74409139.cms De, Aparajita & Tripathi, Vivek (2024). Chapter 2 Nationalisms on(the)line: New Media and the Fanning of Fear and Xenophobia. In Bhattacharyya, R. (Ed.) Genocides and Xenophobia in South Asia and Beyond: A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Known, Lesser-known and Unknown Crime of Crimes, pp. 33–51 New York and London: Routledge. DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-2 Desai, Meghnad (2017, August 4). Narendra Modi, the outsider, is different from previous PMs, NDTV. https://www.ndtv.com/book-excerpts/narendra-modi-theoutsider-is-different-from-previous-pms-1733535 Dev, Atul (2019, December 01). Manufacturing Normalcy: How the Indian media covered Kashmir, The Caravan. https://caravanmagazine.in/essay/manufacturingnormalcy EPW Engage (2019, August 6). Article 370: A short history of Kashmir’s accession to India, Economic and Political Weekly. https://www.epw.in/engage/article/article370-short-history-kashmirs-accession-india

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  73 Factchecker Team (2018, July 5). Fact Check: Over 389 people have died in communal riots in the last four years, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/no-bigcommunal-riot-in-last-four-years-says-bjp-minister Firaque, Kabir & Vishwanath, Apurva (2019, December 25). Explained: What is Citizenship Amendment Act? The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/ article/explained/explained-how-to-be-a-citizen-of-india-earlier-now-6165960/ Group of Intellectuals and Academcians (2020). Delhi Riots 2020: Report from Ground Zero – The Shaheen Bagh Model in North-East Delhi: From Dharna to Danga, The India Post. theindiapost.com Iyer, Aishwarya S & Menon, Aditya (2020a, June 12). Delhi riots: Is Trump visit a hole in Police’s conspiracy theory? The Quint. https://www.thequint.com/news/ india/delhi-riots-trump-visit-police-conspiracy-theory-tahir-hussain-umar-khalid# read-more Iyer, Aishwarya S. & Menon, Aditya (2020b, September 25). Delhi Riots: 8 major gaps in police’s ‘conspiracy’ charge sheet, The Quint. https://www.thequint.com/ news/india/delhi-riots-conspiracy-chargesheet-gaps-special-cell-chakka-jam Izzuddin, Mustafa, Mohsina, Nazneen & Namreen, Tahira (2019, July 8). Long Read: Muslims and an inclusive India under Modi 2.0, LSE. https://blogs. lse.ac.uk/southasia/2019/07/08/long-read-muslims-and-an-inclusive-india-undermodi-2-0/ Jayaprakash, N.D. (2020a, July 6). Delhi Riots 2020: A critique of two purported fact-finding reports, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/delhi-riots-2020-acritique-of-two-purported-fact-finding-reports Jayaprakash, N.D. (2020b, July 7). Delhi Riots 2020: What were Amit Shah and the MHA doing when violence raged in the capital? The Wire. https://thewire.in/ communalism/delhi-riots-2020-amit-shah-home-ministry-police Jayaprakash, N.D. (2020c, July 8). Delhi Riots 2020: The curious case of Tahir Hussain and Ankit Sharma, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/delhi-riots2020-tahir-hussain-ankit-sharma Jha, Prem Shankar (2019, August 10). Why reviking special status is the final betrayal of Kashmir, The Wire. https://thewire.in/politics/kashmir-special-status-revocationfinal-betrayal John, Arshu & Singh, Prabhjit (2020, September 20). Crime and prejudice: The BJP and Delhi Police’s hand in the Delhi violence, The Caravan. https://caravanmagazine. in/politics/the-bjp-and-delhi-police-hand-in-the-delhi-violence Khan, Fatima (2020, March 11). Number of missing husbands and sons going up as riot-hit Delhitries to pick up the pieces, The Print. https://theprint.in/india/numberof-missing-husbands-and-sons-going-up-as-riot-hit-delhi-tries-to-pick-up-thepieces/378721/ Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2019, December 12). With CAB, India has taken a decisive step towards the Sangh Parivar’s idea of a nation, The Wire. https://thewire. in/communalism/with-cab-india-has-finally-achieved-the-sangh-parivars-ideaof-a-nation Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2020a, August 13). How Delhi Police turned antiCAA WhatsApp group chats into riots ‘conspiracy’, The Wire. https://thewire.in/ communalism/delhi-riots-police-activists-whatsapp-group Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2020b, February 25). Ground report: In riot city, Hindutva mobs rage with impunity as police watch in silence, The Wire. https:// thewire.in/communalism/delhi-riots-jai-shri-ram-hindutva-bjp

74  Ajoy Ashirwad Mahaprashasta Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2020c, February 28). Ground report: How the riots unfolded in Delhi’s Chand Bagh, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/ delhi-riots-chand-bagh-arson-mazaar Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2020d, February 27). Ground report: In Mustafabad, Delhi riots sow seeds of distrust between Hindus and Muslims, The Wire. https:// thewire.in/communalism/mustafabad-delhi-riots-ground-report Mahaprashasta, Ajoy Ashirwad (2020e, September 12). Delhi Police spreads riots ‘conspiracy’ net, drags in eminent academics and activists, The Wire. https://thewire. in/rights/delhi-police-riots-conspiracy-academics-activists Malviya, Amit (2020, February 13). Twitter. https://tinyurl.com/r2xtxnv6 Menon, Aditya (2020, February 26). Delhi violence: How BJP poll campaign polarised northeast areas, The Quint. https://www.thequint.com/news/politics/delhiviolence-election-bjp-hindutva-seelampur-karawal-nagar-amit-shah#read-more Ministry of Home Affairs, Government of India (2015, August 25). RGI releases Census 2011 data on population by religious communities, Press Information Bureau. https://pib.gov.in/newsite/printrelease.aspx?relid=126326 Mukhopadhyay, Nilanjan (2017, August 29). Past continuous: How communal political campaigning changed post Gujarat 2002, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/ past-continuous-modi-communal-political-campaign-gujarat-2002 Naqvi, Farah (2019, December 12). The citizenship amendment bill and NRC will together destroy our country, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/nrccitizenship-amendment-bill-hindu-mus Pandey, Amit & Tantray, Shahid (2020, July 31). Hate speech, a Hindu rioter speaks: Delhi violence was “revenge” against Muslims, police gave free reign, The Caravan. https://caravanmagazine.in/crime/delhi-rioter-testimony-hindu-revenge-muslimspolice-free-reign Pandey, Gyandendra (1999). In Defense of the Fragment: Writing about HinduMuslim Riots in India Today. University of California Press. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/2928653 Pandey, Neelam (2020, January 28). BJP MP says Shaheen Bagh protesters will ‘rape, kill’ as party makes it Delhi poll plank, The Print. https://theprint.in/politics/bjpmp-says-shaheen-bagh-protesters-will-rape-kill-as-party-makes-it-delhi-poll-plank/ 355438/ Ranjan, Mukesh (2017, July 26). Communal violence cases up 41% in 3 years: NCRB, The Tribune. https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/nation/communalviolence-cases-up-41-in-3-years-ncrb-442925 Sardesai, Rajdeep (2014, December 25). India’s most powerful prime minister in decades, Narendra Modi has become the focal point of a young nation’s aspiration for a better tomorrow, India Today. https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/cover-story/ story/20150105-indias-most-powerful-prime-minister-in-decadesnarendra-modihas-become-the-focal-point-of-a-young-nations-aspiration-for-a-better-tomorrow806372-2014-12-25 Singh, Prabhjit (2020, June 21). Dead and buried: Delhi Police ignored complaints against Kapil Mishra, other BJP leaders for leading mobs in Delhi violence, The Caravan. https://caravanmagazine.in/politics/delhi-police-ignored-complaints-againstkapil-mishra-bjp-leaders-leading-mobs-delhi-violence Singh, Soibam Rocky (2021, July 15). Court fines Delhi police Rs. 25,000 for ‘farcical’ probe into riots case, The Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Delhi/ court-fines-delhi-police-25k-for-farcical-probe-into-riots-case/article35333090.ece

The Alchemy of a Sectarian Riot  75 Swart, Mia (2020, March 30). Does CAA comply with India’s human rights obligations? Aljazeera. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/3/30/does-caa-complywith-indias-human-rights-obligations Thakur, Sankarshan (2002). An architect of fractures, sankarshanthakur.in. https:// sankarshanthakur.in/2019/03/15/architect-of-fractures-my-piece-from-2002-onhow-narendramodi-might-chart-his-political-career-post-the-gujarat-violencehttps-bit-ly-2t6tgux-and-where-he-has-arrived-today-https-bit-ly-2tkvn/ Thakur, Sankarshan (2019). The Reign of an Unchallenged Overlordship. The Telegraph. https://www.telegraphindia.com/opinion/the-reign-of-an-unchallengedoverlordship/cid/1688029 Thapliyal, Nupur (2021, August 29). “Painful to note that standard of investigation is very poor in large number of riots cases”: Delhi court pulls up police, calls for remedial action, Live Law. https://www.livelaw.in/news-updates/painful-notestandard-investigation-very-poor-large-number-riots-cases-delhi-court-180518 The Hindu (2019, December 10). Unequal, unsecular: On Citizenship Amendment Bill. https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/editorial/unequal-unsecular/article30259807.ece The Quint (2019). Hunted: India’s lynch files, https://thewire.in/communalism/pastcontinuous-modi-communal-political-campaign-gujarat-2002 The Wire Analysis (2019, November 9). Supreme Court’s Ayodhya verdict rests on a  glaring contradiction, The Wire. https://thewire.in/law/supreme-court-ayodhyaverdict-possession The Wire Analysis (2020, June 12). Delhi Police riot ‘plot’ has Trump present when he can’t have been, Kapil Mishra absent, The Wire. https://thewire.in/government/ delhi-police-riots-chargesheet-trump-umar-khalid-conspiracy-loophole The Wire Staff (2021, August 9). Inflammatory, anti-Muslim slogans raised at Jantar Mantar event organised by BJP leader, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/ violent-anti-muslim-slogans-raised-at-jantar-mantar-event-organised-by-bjp-leader Varadarajan, Siddharth (2019, August 9). Scrapping Article 370: What’s the political,  security and diplomatic fallout? The Wire. https://thewire.in/video/ beyondtheheadlines-scrapping-article-370-what-happens-next Varadarajan, Siddharth (2020, July 16). Delhi police affidavit shows Muslims bore brunt of riots, silent on who targeted them and why, The Wire. https://thewire.in/ communalism/delhi-police-affidavit-shows-muslims-bore-brunt-of-riots-silenton-who-targeted-them-and-why Varadarajan, Siddharth, Jafri, Alishan & Wani, Makhnoon (2021a, February 28). Delhi 2020, the real conspiracy: what the Police chose not to see, The Wire. https:// thewire.in/communalism/delhi-2020-the-real-conspiracy-what-the-police-chosenot-to-see Varadarajan, Siddharth, Jafri, Alishan & Wani, Makhnoon (2021b, March 3). Just before Delhi riots, militant Hindutva leader called repeatedly for Muslims to be  killed, The Wire. https://thewire.in/communalism/delhi-riots-conspiracy-antimuslim-cleric-yati-narsinghanand Varshney, Ashutosh (2020, March 2). How we define and categorise the Delhi violence matters, The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/ columns/delhi-violence-riots-death-toll-6294461/

4 Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits Kulbhushan Warikoo

Introduction Eruption of armed insurgency and terrorism and rise of a militarised form of Islamic fundamentalism in Kashmir since late 1989 came as a disaster for about 450,000 Kashmiri Pandits living in the valley of Kashmir at that time, who were targeted, killed and forced out of the Valley by the terrorists beginning September 1989. The entire community of indigenous minority of Kashmiri Hindus is agonising in its 33rd year1 of displacement, which has resulted in the loss of their land, property, homes, businesses and educational and religious institutions and the break-up of families, social and cultural community ties. Their forced displacement has had devastating consequences on the socio-psychological, physical, health and demographic profile of the Kashmiri Pandit community, which is on the verge of extinction. Kashmiri Pandits present a classic case of ethnic cleansing and xenophobia through organised oppression, dispossession of their property and territory, marginalisation in cultural, economic and political terms and adverse discrimination based on their distinct ethno-religious identity. Ironically, the law enforcement agencies have neither prosecuted any terrorist or extremist for killing the Kashmiri Pandits nor has any effort been made to address their problems of dispossession and illegal occupation of their properties, compensation for their losses. Nor has any credible human rights body or think tank at the national or the international level cared to pay attention to this colossal tragedy. This chapter seeks to fill this critical gap in the literature on the subject, taking into account the ground situation, primary sources and testimonies of several victims, including the author. The United Nations Genocide Convention of 1948 defines genocide as acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, as such: killing members of the group; causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; deliberately imposing living conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.2

DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-4

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  77 In 1996, Gregory Stanton, president of Genocide Watch, in his paper The 8 Stages of Genocide (Stanton, 1996) outlined the eight characteristics of genocide as: (i) Classification (dividing the people into ‘us and them’). The Kashmiri Pandits were identified as Kafirs (infidels) and made the target of holy war; (ii)Symbolisation (combined with hatred, symbols being forced upon the target group). Organised hate campaign was carried out to target Kashmiri Pandits, particularly for their un-Islamic traditions, culture and religion and for being patriotic Indians; (iii) Dehumanisation (denying the humanity of the ‘other’ group). Kashmiri Pandits suffered the most brutal means of killing, including strangulation, bleeding to death, nailing the forehead, breaking limbs, rape and cutting live women into pieces by a saw, not allowing the cremation of victims and so on; (iv) Organisation (the genocide being organised by special militias etc.) Kashmiri Pandits were massacred by armed groups like Jammu & Kashmir Liberation Front (JKLF) and Islamic terrorist groups like Hizbul Mujahideen, Al Badr, Lashkar-e-Toiba etc.; (v) Polarisation (hate groups broadcasting polarising propaganda). The Islamist extremists prepared a hit list of Kashmiri Pandits, put them on their homes, street poles etc., warning them of their impending death. Threatening calls were published in local newspapers warning them to leave or get killed. On 19 January 1990, anti-Kashmiri Pandit slogans were raised by huge crowds on the streets and in thousands of mosques across the Valley with loudspeakers asking the Kashmiri Pandit men to leave, keeping their women behind; (vi) Preparation: The orgy of violence was well organised and was carried out through the length and breadth of the Valley; (vii) Extermination: The extermination of Kashmiri Pandits was done by targeted killings and forcing the rest out of the Valley; (viii) Denial. The perpetrators and their local Muslim supporters launched a campaign of denial of their responsibility for the massacres and forced exodus of the indigenous minority of Kashmiri Pandits. In 2012, Dr. George Stanton incorporated two more stages to his 1996 Genocide Model: discrimination and persecution.3 The stage of discrimination can be argued as the destruction and usurpation of immovable properties, business, cultural, educational institutions and their places of worship to bring about total Islamisation of the Valley and close all possibilities of survivors’ return to their ancient homeland. I discuss the stage of persecution in the following text. Kashmiri Pandits: The Indigenous People of Kashmir The antiquity of Kashmiri Pandits is well established by archaeological and historical documentary evidence. As per the Saptarishi calendar, one of India’s ancient calendars from Kashmir, the year 2020 corresponds to 5096 Saptarishi Samwat (which dates back to 3076 BC), denoting the antiquity of Kashmiri Hindus (Pandits). The Kashmiri Pandits are the precursors of Kashmiri Muslims, who now form a majority in the valley of Kashmir. This

78  Kulbhushan Warikoo historic transformation of far-reaching importance took place as a result of the introduction of Islam in Kashmir in the fourteenth century. Whereas Kashmiri Pandits are of the same ethnic stock as the Kashmiri Muslims, both sharing their habitat, language, dress, food and other habits, Kashmiri Pandits form a constituent part of the Hindu society of India on the religious plane. However, due to the geophysical and eco-cultural uniqueness of the Kashmir valley, the traditions, ontology and way of life of Kashmiri Pandits are deeply associated, rather enmeshed with the mountains and peaks, springs and waterfalls, flora and fauna, shrines and pilgrimages—all that is the essence of Kashmir. Almost every spring (nag), mountain peak, cave and hill in Kashmir has been a pilgrim centre for Kashmiri Pandits. Similarly, since ancient times the river Jhelum (Vitasta) has been an inseparable part of their daily rituals. Due to the long-distance and mountain barriers, Kashmiri Pandits could not visit the tirthas (pilgrim centres) in other parts of India in early times; they discovered their own sacred sites in the Valley. So the confluence of Vitasta (Jhelum) and Sindhu near Shadipur has been treated as Prayag, where ashes of the dead were immersed. Similarly, Gangabal Lake at the foothills of Harmukh was a popular pilgrimage place like Gangotri in the Uttarakhand Himalayas. A stream at Ishbar, near Srinagar, is known as Gupt Ganga, where a high centre of Shaivism came up under late Swami Lakshman Ji’s guidance. The most significant contribution of Kashmiri Pandits has been the exposition of Trika philosophy of Kashmir Shaivism, which synthesises the diverse currents of thought and wisdom found in ancient Indian philosophy. Earlier, Kashmiri Pandit scholars and savants played a leading role in spreading Buddhism far and wide across India’s Himalayan frontiers in Central Asia, Tibet and China. Similarly, Kashmiri Pandits made notable contribution to human civilisation in the fields of mysticism, humanism, aesthetics, art and architecture, language and literature, astrology, science and historiography. In this context, mention may be made of the contributions of Abhinavagupta, Anandvarman, Kshemendra, Kallat, Mammat, Rudrat, Jagadar Bhatt, Avtar Bhatt, Kalhana, Jonaraja, Srivara etc. In short, Kashmiri Pandits acted as the vanguard of intellectual, cultural and spiritual movements, which lent a distinct identity to this ethno-religious minority of Kashmir. Kashmiri Pandits inherit a history of tumultuous tragedies during the past seven centuries, after Islam became a dominant religio-political force in Kashmir. Against immense odds, including conversions, killings and exodus of its members, the community of Kashmiri Pandits tenaciously held onto its traditions, culture and beliefs, though its energy was drastically clipped. At the same time, they adjusted to the changed political situation and not only learnt but also excelled in the Persian language and literature. The consequent interaction between Islamic Sufi thought and Kashmir Shaivism led to creating a composite culture that was the hallmark of Kashmiri society and culture until three decades ago. Undeterred by adverse vicissitudes of history, Kashmiri Pandits demonstrated

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  79 a close attachment to ancestral habitat and its natural surroundings in Kashmir, which continues to be the pivot of their day-to-day life as well as their aspirations; b preservation of their traditions, customs, cultural spiritual and religious manifestations in the form of shrines, pilgrim centres, springs, peaks, mountains and hillocks, rivers and meadows dotting the length and breadth of Kashmir Valley and which are revered most; c self-identification as a distinct ethno-religious and cultural group popularly known as Kashmiri Pandits –distinct from the Muslims of Kashmir. The community continues to be identified by others as Kashmiri Pandits. Persecution The Kashmiri Pandit community met with a great traumatic experience in the middle of the fourteenth century when forced conversion to Islam took place on a massive scale. The process of conversion was accompanied by the super-imposition of new customs over the ancient indigenous culture leading to its erosion. In a span of about 500 years (AD 1320–1819), this persecuted community was forced to leave its homeland several times when the Valley was ruled by the Sultans, Chaks, Mughals and Afghans. Yet most of them made it a point to return (Suvir, 2020) as soon as there was some let-up in religious frenzy. There is recorded evidence of forcible conversion of Kashmiri Pandits to Islam and destruction of their places of worship and their cultural heritage. Syed Ali Hamadani, who entered Kashmir in AD 1379, himself enunciates certain principles/terms and conditions for the Muslim ruler in his dealings with the Zimmi (non-Muslim subjects). Some of these, as are recorded in his Zakhirat-ul-Mulk (Chapter 5), are: a Muslim ruler shall not allow fresh construction of temples and shrines for idol worship. b No repairs shall be executed to existing temples and shrines. c No difficulty shall be offered to those non-Muslims who are ready to accept Islam. d Non-Muslims shall not ride a harnessed horse. e They shall not dispose of their dead in the neighbourhood of Muslim maqbaras, nor weep or wail loudly over their dead. It was left to Syed Mohammad Hamadani (the son of Syed Ali Hamadani) to carry out the unfinished task of his father, using violent means. The reign of Sultan Sikandar (AD 1389–1413), infamous as Sikandar Butshikan (Sikandar the iconoclast), and his successors are known for such atrocities. Baharistan-i-Shahi, a contemporaneous history of Kashmir written in AD 1614 by an anonymous author, most probably Syed Ali, gives a glimpse of the methods of such forcible conversion to Islam. It also provides an idea

80  Kulbhushan Warikoo of the struggle of the Kashmir Pandits to hold to their faith under such terrible circumstances. It says: One of the big tasks completed by Malik Kaji Chak, was the massacre of infidels and polytheists of this land. It happened like this. During the government of Malik Musa Raina all the depraved heretics of this land had been converted to Islam. But with the help of some of the chiefs of this land, some of them had reverted to the customs of the infidels and polytheists. These infidels had resumed idolatory. Some of the infidels related that during the hours of offering prayers and worshipping of idols they would place a copy of the holy Quran under their haunches to make a seat to sit upon. This idol worshipping proceeded even while they sat on the divine book. When the news and details of these doings were brought to Amir Shamsuddin Mohd. Iraqi, he summoned Malik Kaji Chak and ordered him to inflict punishment upon the infidels. Malik Kaji Chak in deference to the wishes of Amir Shamsuddin Araqi, decided to carry out a wholesale massacre of the infidels. Their massacre was scheduled for the days of approaching Ashura. Thus in year 924 A.H. (A.D. 1518), during the Asuhra about 7 to 800 infidels were put to death. Those killed were the leading personalities of the community of infidels at that time; men of substance and government functionaries. Each of them wielded influence and sway over a hundred families of other infidels and heretics. Thus the entire community of infidels in Kashmir was coerced into conversion to Islam at the point of sword. (Pandita, 1991, pp.116–117) Another contemporary source Tohfatul-Ahbab, the biography of an Iranian Shia Muslim missionary, Shamsud Din Muhammad Araqi, who came and stayed in Kashmir from AD 1483 to 1490 to propagate Islam, provides chilling details of the destruction of “idol houses and temples of the infidels on the ruins of which mosques and hospices (Khanqah) were erected” (Pandita, 2018, pp. 206–276). It also explains how “groups of infidels, polytheists and heretics of Kashmir were converted to Islam, by force with their threads being removed, circumcision done and eating of beef made compulsory” (Pandita, 2018, pp. 206–276). Seven centuries of religious, political and economic persecution turned Kashmiri Pandits into a minority community in their own homeland in Kashmir. In 1947, the population of Kashmiri Pandits in Jammu and Kashmir was about 15%, which declined to about 5% in 1981. By 1991, they had a nominal presence of 0.1% in the Valley.4 The destiny of the Kashmiri Pandit indigenous minority of Kashmir took a turn for the worse in the post-1947 era when Kashmir turned into a zone of conflict between India and Pakistan. Pakistani armed tribals, who raided and looted Kashmir in 1947–1948, targeted the Kashmiri Hindus and Sikhs

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  81 settled in Muzaffarabad, Baramulla, Budgam and elsewhere, killing them, raping and kidnapping their womenfolk, and destroying their hearths and homes. Though post-independent India has several recorded narratives of partition and its aftermath, the harrowing and tragic experiences of the hapless Kashmiri Pandits have been glossed over. Whereas the Indian Constitution provided special safeguards to Kashmiri Muslim majority in the form of Article 3705 to the State of Jammu and Kashmir, it failed to take cognisance of the precarious situation of this ethno-religious minority in Kashmir as the local administration practised majoritarianism in its policies and actions (Pulla, 2022). As a result, the minuscule minority of Kashmiri Pandits became a victim of discrimination in political, economic, educational and cultural spheres in the otherwise secular, democratic and federal political system of post-independent India. Though Kashmiri Pandits would not like to leave their homeland even in such adversity, the imperative of survival forced many members of this community in search of security and livelihood outside Kashmir. It is common knowledge in Kashmir that even Sheikh Abdullah, the undisputed leader of Kashmiri Muslims and the so-called messiah of secularism, would advise Kashmiri Pandits: “Raliv, chaliv or galiv (convert, run away or perish)” (Pandita, 2017: p. 19; Pulla, 2022). The fate of the indigenous Hindu minority of Kashmir was sacrificed at the altar of ‘secularism’ in Kashmir (Teng and Gadoo, n.d), which was seen as a key pillar of the Muslimmajority Kashmir’s rejection of Jinnah’s two-nation theory and acceptance of Indian secularism and democracy. Based on the yoke of religious nationalism—Hindus and Muslims—the two-nation theory was popularised by Muhammad Ali Jinnah, in the wake of the idea of ‘Pakistan’ propounded by Choudhry Rahmat Ali in 1933, a then Cambridge law student. Choudhry Rahmat Ali developed a pamphlet titled Now or Never; Are We to Live or Perish Forever?, which is also known as Pakistan Declaration6 and which was circulated among the delegates (of both undivided India and British) at the Third Round Table Conference in London (Das et al., 2022; Dixit, 2020; Kamran, 2017; Wolpert, 1984). Choudhry Rahmat Ali seeded the acronym ‘Pakstan’ taking five Muslim majority entities of Northern part of undivided India—Punjab, North-West Frontier Province (Afghan Province), Kashmir, Sindh and Baluchistan (Das et al., 2022; Dixit, 2020; Kamran, 2017; Wolpert, 1984).7 The idea of Pakistan as a separate Muslim nation state gradually gained momentum after the idea kindled Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who along with his comrades like Muhammad Iqbal politicised and proliferated the idea, gained success in transforming the history of a nation and modify a world map (Wolpert, 1984) giving birth to Pakistan on 14 August 1947. Now returning to the question of Kasmiri Pandits, one is appalled at the response of Jawaharlal Nehru government to the exodus of these Kashmiri Pandits during and after 1948, in search of petty jobs in Indian government offices in various parts of India. In order to appease Sheikh Abdullah, who officially wrote to the then prime minister Nehru asking him to debar these Kashmiri emigrees from the Valley from getting any jobs in the rest of India,

82  Kulbhushan Warikoo as it would tarnish the image of Kashmir, Nehru promptly obliged by issuing the orders to that effect.8 Recognising the gross discriminatory decision, the daily newspaper Statesman, in its editorial comment on 28 January 1949, acknowledged that “members of the Pandit community complain that this discriminates against them, as they comprise the majority of the Kashmiris, who driven by unemployment or apprehensive about the future, seek work outside the State.”9 This episode of Nehru’s policy, though never known in the public domain, should nail the lies parroted by most of the Indian media, academia and political elites cutting across party affiliations, that Kashmiri Pandits were well off and had benefitted from Jawaharlal Nehru’s empathy towards Kashmir and due to him being a Kashmiri Pandit himself. Hate Campaign After 1947–1948, Pakistan’s open support to Kashmiri Muslim secessionist groups communalised the society and polity in the Valley. However, due to their belief in liberal ethos and indigenous composite culture, the Kashmiri Muslims rejected the communal politics of M.A. Jinnah, the founder of Pakistan during the 1947–1948, 1965 and 1971 Indo-Pak wars. But by the 1970s, sustained campaign by religious and political groups like Ahl-eHadith, Jamaat-e-Islami and their associated mosques/madrasseh resulted in the radicalisation of a large section of Kashmiri Muslims. Ironically, it was the middle and upper classes of Kashmiri Muslims comprising the educational elite, corrupt businessmen, contractors, bureaucrats, big estate holders and politicians who lent financial aid and ideological support to the Islamist extremists, to cover their misdeeds and to gain influence in society and politics. Now writings on Islamic doctrines, history, culture, society and politics exhorting the Kashmiri Muslims to shun their un-Islamic way of life were extensively published (Warikoo, 2011: p. 69). Jamaat-e-Islami and its front organisations denounced the principles of secularism, democracy and socialism, and strived for the establishment of Islamic order as the only solution for the Kashmir issue. A vicious campaign was launched against what they called un-Islamic practices, such as continued reverence of saints, Rishis and shrines (Ziarats) and some traditions and rituals followed by the majority of Kashmiri Muslims (Ahl-e-Itqad), as these were common with their Hindu compatriots. The new and young generation of Kashmiri Muslims who were affluent and highly educated came under the sway of the pan-Islamic ideology, and many of them became the foot soldiers of jihad (war against non-Muslims). The Kashmiri Pandits were viewed as the representatives of secular and Hindu majority India in the otherwise Muslim dominated Kashmir. They were projected as the ‘other’ and undesirable element in Kashmir, whose presence in the Valley would weaken the Islamisation drive and damage the ultimate goal of Nizam-e-Mustafa (Islamic order based on Shariah) in Kashmir. The systematic campaign was launched through sermons in mosques, public get-­ togethers, newspaper columns and routine

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  83 discussions portraying Kashmiri Pandits as the creamy layer in Kashmiri society, having jobs disproportionate to their numbers. They pointed to the existence of some literate Kashmiri Pandit clerks, munshis, postmen and patwaris during the Dogra raj, who were described as instruments of exploitation in the general discourse of the Kashmiri Muslim political, intellectual and bureaucratic circles in Kashmir to whip up passions against this minority community. True that Kashmiri Pandits looked to clerical jobs as the primary means of livelihood, but such positions were limited to a select few who could make it. Maharaja Hari Singh of Kashmir appointed a Grievance Commission under B.J. Glancy, an officer of the Foreign and Political Department of the British Indian government, in November 1931 to look into the grievances of Kashmiri Muslims, particularly in matters of employment and education. The Glancy Commission, which submitted its report to the Maharaja in March 1932, found out that out of 763 gazetted appointments in the state, “Kashmiri Pandits held only 74 including 17 Pandits imported from British India”. Even Glancy remarked that “it is certainly not a high proportion”.10 All others living across the length and breadth of the valley were dependent on their small landholdings for subsistence. Here I quote Walter Lawrence (1894: p.303) to amplify this statement: The vast majority of the Pandits belong to the Karkun clan and have usually made their livelihood in the employment of the State. But as State employment became harder to obtain and the number of the Pandits increased, the Brahmans of Kashmir sought other occupations, and many of them are in business, while others work as cooks, bakers, confectioners and tailors. A Pandit may follow any trade or occupation except those of the cobbler, potter, corn-frier, porter, boatman, carpenter, mason or fruit seller. In 1894 many Pandits were working as daily labourers on the river embankments. Though many have taken to agriculture and many more are looking to land as a means of employment and subsistence, they would infinitely prefer to spend their lives as clerks in some office. The Pandits of the villages consider it no degradation to follow the plough and to carry manure. However, the future of city Pandits is a matter of some anxiety. They are extremely conservative and short sighted. They are deeply attached to their country, and though Kashmiri Pandits have risen to distinction in India, the large number of unemployed Brahmans of Srinagar will not seek service in the Punjab while it is possible to eke out a bare subsistence in the valley. Every city Pandit is sedulous for the education of his children. (Lawrence, 1894: p.303) Similarly, a myth was circulated that Kashmiri Pandits constituted the big landholder class and were, as such, exploiting the poor peasantry. However, the fact is that as a result of the promulgation of Big Landed Estates Abolition Act on 13 July 1950 by Sheikh Abdullah, it was found that 25 families owned

84  Kulbhushan Warikoo little more than 500,000 kanals of land among themselves in J&K State. Out of this 1,52,924 kanals were held in ownership in Kashmir, of which only 23,600 kanals were owned by three Kashmiri Pandits - Shyam Sundar Lal Dhar, Balkak Dhar and Raja Upendra Krishan Kaul. So apart from these three Kashmiri Pandit jagirdars, the whole community had a generally lower middle-class character, with those in the villages living even more difficult and frugal life. The Pandits living in rural areas eked out a living out of their small and petty landholdings. And in the case of those Pandits who owned some land in the villages and were absentee landlords, their landownership rights were transferred to their Muslim tenants without any compensation under the land reform laws. Besides, the increasing Muslim population across the Valley was under irresistible pressure to secure more land, which was done through illegal encroachments and occupation of the lands of hapless Pandits, who being dispersed across the Valley could not offer any resistance due to the brute majoritarian actions of Kashmiri Muslim civil and revenue authorities and law and order machinery. This author encountered the same problem on 15 February 1987 when a band of about 200 Muslim neighbours attacked our house at Lalow Shish Gari Bagh, about 5 kilometres from Lal Chowk, the city centre, and felled down scores of willow and poplar trees which marked the boundary of our land, and occupied about one-fourth of our one-acre land area.11 This was a great traumatising experience for us, and we remained huddled in the corners of our home for several days. Earlier, in July–August 1967, the deep divide between Kashmiri Pandits and Muslims took the form of a mass and spontaneous agitation by the Pandits demanding the recovery of a Pandit girl Parmeshwari of Rainawari, Srinagar, who had been abducted, converted to Islam and married to a Muslim named Ghulam Rasool. She was renamed Parveen Akhtar, and her conversion to Islam was being celebrated through newspaper announcements, gatherings in mosques and taking out victory processions in downtown Srinagar, which indeed dealt a severe psychological blow to the sensitivities of Kashmiri Pandits, who were already suffering harassment, discrimination and persecution. The Pandits, particularly the youth and womenfolk, agitated peacefully for quite some time, seeking the recovery of the abducted girl. But the state administration of Chief Minister G.M. Sadiq, who was believed to be emancipated, and police, backed by the majority Muslim population, remained aggressive against the Kashmiri Pandit agitators, resulting in the death of approximately a dozen protestors. This author would recall the brutalities of the local Muslim police hitting the peaceful protestors on their heads and sensitive body parts. On 25 August 1967 alone, 202 Kashmiri Pandits suffered serious injuries, while a dozen died (Koul, 1999). Even the funeral processions of M.K. Razdan and Lassa Kaul were stoned. Some houses and shops belonging to Kashmiri Pandits at Karan Nagar and other places were looted, damaged or burnt (Koul, 1999). One hoped that the despatch of Y.B. Chavan, the then home minister of India, to  Srinagar would lead to some steps to address the grievances of the

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  85 beleaguered Kashmiri Pandit minority. Though Chavan succeeded in getting the agitation called off, the Kashmiri Pandits did not secure any relief, as the Pandit girl was stated to be a major having converted and married a Muslim out of her own will. Now the state administration took vindictive steps to further marginalise the Kashmiri Pandits by denying them admission to professional courses and employment on merit. The discriminatory practice of such admissions and giving jobs on the basis of population ratio was introduced, ignoring merit and qualifications. Another mischief was played by creating mistrust between the Kashmiri Pandits and Hindu Dogras of Jammu. Kashmiri Pandit employees working in Kashmir were transferred to Jammu province on a routine basis, which added to the fears of Jammu Dogras losing their jobs. Prevalence of insecurity of life, property and livelihood in the Valley led to a silent exodus of the younger generation of Kashmiri Pandits to Jammu and beyond. Simultaneously, erstwhile Pandit-dominated localities in downtown Srinagar turned into the Muslim strongholds after the Pandits sold their houses at throwaway prices to ensure the honour and security of their womenfolk. They now shifted to apparently secure colonies at Jawahar Nagar, Sanat Nagar, Rawalpora, Shiv Pura, Indira Nagar, Natipura etc., in Srinagar, investing all their resources to build their houses in the hope of living peacefully at their new locations. Encouraged by the apathy of local Muslim-dominated police and administration, hate campaign, public jeering, molestation of Pandit womenfolk, anti-Hindu sermons in mosques describing them as Indian Kafirs (infidels), encroachments of properties, temple lands and even cremation grounds was a recurring feature of the emerging order in Kashmir. Whenever India and Pakistan played a cricket match, it turned into a nightmare for the Pandits, who had to bear the brunt of jeering, anti-India slogans and even their houses being stoned, in the event of Pakistan winning or losing the match. This was a period when a substantial number of Kashmiri Pandits shifted to Jammu for security. Thus began a fresh erosion of their territorial base in the Valley—their ancient land of birth. As regards their employment status, I must testify out of my personal experience in Kashmir that after 1972–1973, hardly any skilled or professional Kashmiri Pandit was appointed to any position in the J&K government services. Earlier, few hundred trained teachers, engineers and agricultural graduates had found a place in the state services. Since the Kashmiri Pandit community was generally educated, they found solace in securing employment in various central government offices, life insurance and pharmaceutical companies, banks, post and telegraph offices. And this was made a big issue by the Kashmiri Muslim politicians demanding the recruitment of Kashmiri Muslims to various central government offices on the basis of their population. Literature was published decrying the admission of Kashmiri Pandits to professional courses and their employment in government services. Citing the date of January 1977, Kashmiri Pandits were stated to be holding 225 gazetted posts in 17 government colleges as against 350 held by Kashmiri Muslims, 193 in engineering departments as against 379 Kashmiri Muslims, 28 in

86  Kulbhushan Warikoo Secretariat as against 52 Kashmiri Muslims and so on (Khan, n.d., pp. 1–24). The Kashmiri Pandits were criticised for giving vent to their grievances of being discriminated against blatantly and arbitrarily in matters relating to the alleged encroachment on their places of worship, recruitment to services, admission to institutions of higher learning, grant of aid and scholarships, enforcement of agrarian reforms, representation in cabinet and legislature and local bodies (Khan, n.d., pp. 1–24). Kashmiri Pandits living in the Valley survived because they lived a life of simplicity, patience and contentment. As a community committed to upholding values of culture and civilisation, Kashmiri Pandits spent all their energy and resources in attaining education to the extent possible within their means. Pandit Anand Kaul’s statement that “the Kashmiri Pandit conceals poverty, trying to make his figure presentable much more than his narrow circumstances permit” (Kaul, 1924: p. 38), aptly describes the actual situation of Kashmiri Pandits. The tallest political leader Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah, who headed the J&K government (March 1948–August 1953, February 1975–March 1977, July 1977–8 September 1982) in his voluminous autobiography Aatish -eChinar (Flames in the Chinar), which he finished just before his death in September 1982 and was published posthumously, devoted the concluding chapter to Kashmiri Pandits describing them as “instruments of tyranny and having played contentious role in Kashmir politics through history (Abdullah, 1986: p.883)”. Abdullah’s testimony legitimised the ongoing hate campaign and xenophobia against this indigenous minority, and it set the stage for a fresh assault on the Kashmiri Pandits minority in the 1980s. Ascribing the spread of Islam in Kashmir to propagation rather than sword, Abdullah (1986: pp. 886–887) at the same time underscored the atrocities of a new Pandit convert Sah Bhatt alias Saifuddin on the Kashmiri Pandits and their places of worship. Abdullah portrayed Kashmiri Pandits as informers (mukhbirs—the term used by terrorists during and after 1989 to label Pandits as Indian agents) of the Mughal imperialists in Kashmir (Abdullah, 1986). He also referred to the elevation of few Kashmiri Pandits to high positions during the Afghan rule in Kashmir. In the same breath, Abdullah held the Pandits responsible for inviting Maharaja Ranjit Singh to oust the Afghans from Kashmir. And after the fall of Sikhs (1819–1846), Abdullah talked of the Pandit loyalties to the new rising sun—the British and Dogra ruler Gulab Singh(Abdullah, 1986). He unfairly held the Pandits responsible for Begar (forced labour) of Kashmiri Muslim peasantry (Abdullah, 1986), which in fact was done under the British diktats to ferry supplies to British forces stationed at the Gilgit frontier. Abdullah nursed a deep grudge against D.P. Dhar, singling him out for his intrigues and backstabbing. He was also peeved at the manner some Kashmiri Pandit media persons reported the communal incidents in the Valley targeting this minority in the national press (Abdullah, 1986). Criticising the placement of Kashmiri Pandits in central services, private sector, media and elsewhere disproportionate to their numbers, Sheikh Abdullah accused the community members of acting as “the fifth columnists

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  87 of Kashmir and spies of Delhi over the years” (Abdullah, 1986: p. 904). The insinuations made by the mass leader like Sheikh Abdullah only reflected the misperceptions and deep mistrust harboured by Kashmiri Muslim political and intellectual elite about the Kashmiri Pandits, who were projected as mukhbirs, Delhi’s spies and anti-Muslim. Thus, the ideological ground was laid for legitimising their ethnic cleansing from the Valley. With the death of Sheikh Abdullah (on 8 September 1982), who could put a brake on anti-Pandit pogrom, the political space in the Valley was now dominated by the Islamists. Raising of pro-Pakistan slogans, blackouts on India’s Independence Day, hartals etc. now became commonplace. In February 1986, major anti-Pandit riots took place in Anantnag district in south Kashmir, targeting Kashmiri Pandit houses, womenfolk and worship places. This was a rehearsal of the genocide of Kashmiri Pandits unleashed during and after 1990. Whereas communal violence in India has been a twosided affair with both communities being involved, in Kashmir, it remained a one-sided affair with the Kashmiri Pandits being the target of organised violence, loot, arson and desecration of their places of worship. The Pandits could not even organise their self-defence (Kashmiri Samiti, 1986), as being in very small numbers and dispersed across the Valley, they were overwhelmed by the riotous mobs. A Fact Finding Committee of Kashmiri Samiti, Delhi visited Kashmir on 15–16 March 1986 to have on the spot assessment of the damage inflicted on the Pandits. They visited the affected villages of Dhanav, Wanpoh, Lok Bhawan, Bijbehara and Pampore, besides the towns of Anantnag and Srinagar, and met the victims (Kashmiri Samiti, 1986). The Committee reported 338 houses damaged/burnt, 55 temples burnt/damaged/ desecrated, 30 business establishments looted/damaged, 20 godowns and cowsheds destroyed, 2 schools and cremation grounds demolished, 62 houses looted and 7 vehicles damaged, all belonging to Kashmiri Pandits (Kashmiri Samiti, 1986). What was worse was the trauma experienced by this minority community, particularly their womenfolk. The incident was widely reported in the national press with the efforts of some local Kashmiri Pandit media persons, which did not go well with the Kashmiri Muslim political elite and bureaucracy. Now organised efforts were made to plant Kashmiri Muslim media persons as the local correspondents of the national press, which went in a long way to block the filtration of news of any anti-Pandit or anti-India incident in the Valley in the rest of India. With the State bureaucracy, law and order machinery, political and intellectual elites and a pliable media on their side, the Islamists were now in a commanding position to work towards the establishment of totalitarian Islamic order in Kashmir, to the exclusion of the indigenous minority of Kashmiri Pandits. According to a Kashmiri journalist Bashir Assad, who lived the “ideology of Maududi Islam for 3 years, and was later associated with Mufti Muhammad Syed” (Assad, 2017: pp. 236–237), the founder of Peoples’ Democratic Party (PDP) and state chief minister (November 2002–November 2005, March 2015–January 2016), it was with “Mufti Syed’s tacit approval that some temples and Pandit properties were

88  Kulbhushan Warikoo set ablaze in 1986 in Bijbehara, Anantnag, Shopian in south Kashmir and Sopore” (Assad, 2017: p. 141). Providing an insider’s account, Bashir testifies that “it is known in Kashmir that Mufti engineered the vandalisation of Pandit properties….Come 1990, he was the Home Minister of India. Mufti is the only common link between 1986 and 1990” (Assad, 2017: p. 142) when Kashmiri Pandits were targeted and forced to flee the Valley en masse. The Genocide and Aftermath Terrorism in Kashmir involved coercive intimidation of civil population, introduction of radical Islam in society and culture, violation of human rights and fundamental freedoms of religion, expression and life, destruction of properties, ethnic-religious cleansing of Kashmiri Pandit minority, hostage-taking, attacks on security forces, bomb blasts, destabilising the state’s legitimate political and civil authority, and undermining the democratic and pluralistic socio-political order based on the principles of equality and peaceful co-existence (Warikoo, 1998). In the 1980s, during the first phase of militancy in Kashmir, the Islamist militant groups strived to “bring structural changes at cultural levels of Kashmir society” (Punjabi, 1993: p.43), seeking to Islamicise the socio-political set-up in the valley—openly calling for the establishment of an Islamic order. Various Islamist groups—Jamat-e-Islami and its militant wing Hizbul Mujahideen, women’s wing Dukhtaran-i-Millat, Jamiat-ul-Mujahideen, Allah Tigers, Jamiat-ul-Ulemma Islam etc. signaled the objective of their struggle as Islamicisation of socio-political and economic set-up, the merger of Kashmir with Pakistan, unification of Ummah and establishment of an Islamic Caliphate.12 The liquidation of civilians— Kashmiri Pandits, liberal and nationalist intellectuals, and social and cultural activists—was described as necessary so that the Valley becomes free of un-Islamic elements. The Muslim insurgents launched a malicious campaign against the Kashmiri Hindus through periodic write-ups in local newspapers and sermons in mosques, thereby giving ultimatum to this minority community through local press, asking them to leave the Valley or face retribution and death.13 Throughout the summer of 1989 and after, the Islamist militant organisations used many Urdu newspapers in Kashmir for publishing materials derogatory to the Hindus, their history, customs and traditions, with an object of spreading hatred and disinformation about this ancient indigenous community amongst the common Muslim masses in the Valley. Simultaneously, several Kashmiri Pandits were served with notices asking them to leave the Valley. Generally, such notices were pasted on the doors or delivered in dark hours of the night. Some shopkeepers and businessmen even received threatening phone calls. Prominent social and cultural activists, intellectuals, lawyers and young men of the beleaguered Kashmiri Pandit community were identified and put on the ‘hit lists’ of such targeted persons, who were denounced and openly threatened. These ‘hit lists’ were often displayed on

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  89 the electric poles in the mohallas and squares. Then followed kidnappings, torture and select killings. The first serious blow to the community came with the assassination on 14 September 1989 of Tikka Lal Taploo, a senior advocate of J&K High Court and a widely respected social and political activist, outside his house. The following day, the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front declared the responsibility of killing Taploo (Teng and Gadoo, n.d.). Taploo’s death was followed by the broad day murder of the former Sessions Judge, Nila Kanth Ganjoo, in the busy market of Hari Singh High Street in Srinagar on 4 November 1989. Another prominent advocate, social worker and journalist of the community, Prem Nath Bhat, was shot dead in the heart of Anantang town in south Kashmir on 27 December 1989. The cold night of 19 January 1990 was catastrophic for the Kashmiri Pandits, after massive crowds of local Muslims came out in streets across the Valley shouting slogans: “Pakistan zindabad, Islam zindabad, la ilaha illa Allah”(long live Pakistan, long live Islam, There is no God but Allah); “Assi gacchi Pakistan, batav rostoy, batneiv saan” (We want Pakistan, without the Pandit men, but with their women) (Pandit, 2019: pp. 76–77). Kashmiri Pandits huddled up indoors were the target of the war frenzy, with thousands of mosques blaring these slogans on loudspeakers. Their strategy of killing one and scaring away a thousand worked, as the law-and-order machinery had crumbled, with police and other para-military forces remaining mute spectators to the orgy of mayhem and violence. Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah abdicated his responsibility and resigned. Newly appointed Governor Jagmohan could do nothing. Like frightened pigeons, the Kashmiri Pandits left their homes, hearths, land, business, orchards, livestock, belongings etc., fleeing the Valley, taking all possible means of transport, taxi, car, truck etc., to Jammu, a safer place. It was a spontaneous and individual decision of each household depending upon their situation, with the Pandit families unable to inform their immediate relatives or neighbours. This author’s family tried to cling to its land, the house at Galwanpora, till 14 May 1990, when they left at the dead of the night finding a Sikh truck driver on payment of a high price. The years 1990–1992 witnessed large scale-killings of the Kashmiri Pandits scattered throughout the Valley. Over 1,500 Pandits were brutally murdered, and the rest were forced to leave their hearth and habitat (Kaul and Teng, 1992: pp.175–188; Teng and Gadoo, n.d). Besides, several hundred who were reportedly kidnapped are also believed to have been killed. The terrorists applied most brutal means of killing by hanging, strangulation, beheadings, skinning alive, slitting of blood and dismembering limbs. Sarvanand Koul Premi, a distinguished poet and his son Virendar, were killed savagely. Sarvanand’s forehead was nailed, eyes gouged out and limbs broken. The extremists then killed his son in front of him. Professor Nila Kanth Lala, a well-respected teacher, was killed by one of his own Muslim students. One young lady teacher Girja Tikoo, who, being the sole breadwinner of her low-income family, went to collect her salary in Bandipora, was kidnapped

90  Kulbhushan Warikoo and raped, and her body was cut into pieces by a saw (Pandita, 2017). Many victims were not even allowed to be cremated, and those attempting to do so were threatened of a similar fate (Gigoo and Sharma, 2018: pp. 5–8).14 Whole clusters of Pandit houses in various locations in Srinagar, Anantnag, Baramulla and elsewhere were burnt, and in the official reports/FIRs the cause of the fire was shown as ‘mysterious’, ‘short circuit’ etc. The killings, accompanied by the vilification campaign and the circulation of ‘hit lists’ targeting the prominent Kashmiri Pandit social and cultural workers, intellectuals, government officials and others, were a catastrophe for over 450,000 Kashmiri Pandits dwelling in the Valley during that time. The forced displacement of the entire Kashmiri Pandit indigenous minority, who were terrorised, killed and hounded out by the Islamist terrorists, presents a classic ethnic-religious cleansing with long-term implications for the composite socio-cultural set-up and secular polity in Kashmir. These terrorists even targeted those few remnants of Kashmiri Pandits who had failed to move out of the Valley for various hindrances. On 21 March 1997, seven such Kashmiri Pandits were forcibly taken out of their hearths in Sangrampura village of Budgam district and gunned down.15 Another 23 members of this minuscule minority, including 10 men, 9 women and 2 infants were huddled together on the dark cold night of 26 January 1998 at Wandhama village in Ganderbal and mowed down by the Islamist terrorists.16 In February and March 2000, four Kashmiri Pandits including an eight-year-old girl were gunned down in Anantnag district, forcing the remaining eight families out of their centuries-old habitat. In early 2003, another 24 members of this community were massacred at Nadimarg in the Valley. These targeted killings and forced displacement of this minority community were conducted with an explicit aim of making certain that the Kashmir Valley is cleansed of its Hindu minorities and that the state is disallowed to further restore its secular and composite socio-cultural fabric. The state government informed the National Human Rights Commission on 8 July 1995 that “43,363 Hindu families went to Jammu and 28,713 such families went to Delhi until 1991. Between 1992 and 1994, a further 49 Kashmiri Pandit families had left the Valley”.17 However, Minister of State for Home Affairs G. Kishan Reddy informed the Lok Sabha on 17 March 2020 that a total of 64,951 Kashmiri Pandit families, who left the Kashmir Valley in the 1990s, were currently residing in Jammu (43,618 families), Delhi (19,338 families) and other states (1,995 families).18 These figures, however, exclude more than 25,000 families who were not able to register as migrants due to their immobility, ill health, old age, official apathy and other factors. As such, about 90,000 Kashmiri Pandit families comprising this entire community of over 450,000 people have been forced out from their ancient indigenous habitat in Kashmir by terrorists and religious extremists. This minority community is agonising in its 33rd year of displacement, resulting in the loss of not only their land, property and homes but also educational and employment opportunities. Besides, this led to

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  91 break-up of families, social and cultural community ties. The continued state of homelessness and deprivation has shattered this displaced community both physically and psychologically. A state of continuing chronic stress has led to deterioration in the community’s overall physical and mental health. Low birth rates and high deaths, ageing, diseases like high blood pressure, diabetes, asthma, heart attacks, tuberculosis and strokes have overtaken these hapless people. Over 15,000 displaced Kashmiri Pandits have died during their 33 years of displacement due to exposure to hostile environs, snake bites, heat strokes, cancer, heart, nervous and other ailments. Dr Jitendra Singh, a leading physician and diabetologist of Jammu and now a minister in the central government, had reported a wide prevalence of diabetes mellitus and high blood pressure amongst the displaced Kashmiri Pandits due to continuing chronic stress. According to him, people at a younger age of 35–40 got diabetes, which adversely affected this community’s productive years of life. “My study points to the existence of diabetes in almost each family of displaced Kashmiri Pandits—which is of epidemiological proportions. The displaced community, which has survived homelessness, militancy and economic deprivation, now faces the threat of biological extinction through the ravages of diabetes with all its accompanying impediments including impotence,”19 says Dr. Singh. Another study carried out by Neha Kachroo amongst 110 families living in the government camp at Muthi, Phase II, Jammu revealed that 60% of the respondents suffered from hypertension, psychological and serious respiratory illness.20 A fivefold increase in the number of tuberculosis cases was reported.21 Besides, malaria and diarrhoea were found common among the camp inmates due to poor sanitation and drinking water arrangements. Dr. K.L. Chowdhury, a physician of Jammu reported 108 deaths as against 42 births in 1993 (of 4,105 camp inmates), 200 deaths as against 5 births in 1995 in Purkhoo Camp, 134 deaths as against 85 births in 1997 (among 3,005 non-camp dwellers) and 183 deaths as against 222 births in 1998 in Muthi Camp (of 2,345 inmates) (Chowdhury, 2003). Another major problem encountered by the displaced community has been the loss of their immovable properties—houses, agricultural lands, shops, livestock, orchards and trees—which they left behind. More than 50,000 houses belonging to Kashmiri Pandits, hundreds of their business establishments, educational, cultural and religious institutions have been burnt, destroyed and occupied with the object of decimating all traces of this age-old indigenous minority community. Late Ghulam Mohammad Sofi, a renowned Kashmiri journalist and editor of the daily Srinagar Times, estimated in 1997 that “nearly 32,000 Kashmiri Pandits’ houses have been burnt since 1991”.22 Most of the houses, shops or cultural/educational establishments belonging to the displaced Kashmiri Pandits have been damaged, destroyed, burnt and forcibly occupied by the local Muslims, mostly neighbours, which forecloses all possibilities for these people to return to their homeland after normalcy (Suvir, 2020). Private collections and libraries of Kashmiri Pandits containing rare manuscripts, scriptures and books were plundered,

92  Kulbhushan Warikoo burnt or sold in streets, where special stalls were put up to sell such artefacts, books and other looted materials. The case of those Kashmiri Pandits who belonged to rural Kashmir and were dependent on their agricultural land, orchards and cattle for livelihood are even far more worse. Those dependent on agriculture became jobless. Due to the spontaneity of exodus, all rural households lost their livestock, as it had to be abandoned (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). Most of their land and orchards stand occupied. According to an estimate prepared by the Kashmiri Migrant Fruit Growers Association, about 9,600 orchardists had approximately 3,600 hectares of orchards of apples, walnuts, almonds etc.23 Before the exodus, they had in their possession about 5,00,000 apple, 1,30,000 walnut, 25,000 almond and 15,000 other fruit trees, which yielded an annual yield of, respectively, 15,000 metric tonnes of apples, 3,200 metric tonnes of walnuts, 3,75,000 kilogrammes of almonds and 30,000 boxes of other fruits, valuing about Rs 34.42 crores.24 During the past 33 years of their displacement, they have been incurring a recurring loss of this revenue, most of their orchards being either destroyed or occupied. Similar has been the case with residential houses and agricultural land, which have been occupied forcibly in the absence of their owners. In most such cases, mutation of land and properties has been done fraudulently. All this led to a process of distress sale by the Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons, who sold their properties for peanuts. The enactment of the J&K Migrant Immovable Property (Preservation, Protection and Restraint on Distress Sales) Act 1997 also failed to check the prevalence of fraudulent mutations and distress sale due to the failure of the state government to protect such properties. So much so, the state government informed the J&K Legislative Assembly that about 635 houses and 2,000 kanals of land of migrants were under illegal occupation.25 The state government informed the National Human Rights Commission that it had completed the job of making inventories of the immovable property left behind in the Kashmir Valley by the displaced persons, and that the “total number of structures belonging to the migrants is 16,979 out of which 5,870 structures have been gutted or damaged”.26 Clearly, the list prepared by the state government functionaries was underestimated in a big way to legitimise the fraudulent mutation and forcible occupation of properties owned by the Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons. Ironically, no mention was made of hundreds of thousands of apple, walnut and almond trees besides poplars, willows etc. belonging to Kashmiri Pandits which were felled and sold as timber. The computerisation of revenue records in the Valley has facilitated the process of fraudulent mutations/ transfer of ownership titles in favour of the occupiers by erasing the original ownership records. A community which once excelled in higher education has been forced to abandon the same in its grim battle for survival. Discontinuation of student’s education in camp locations was reported high at 24% for boys and 43% for

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  93 girls at school level, 65% for boys and 74% for girls at college level (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). According to a survey conducted by Neha Kachroo among 110 families in the Muthi Camp-II at Jammu, 12.72% of the displaced families were not able to send their children to school due to financial difficulties.27 These children worked in some local factory or nearby shops. Only 37.83% of the displaced students were going to the Camp school, which had inadequate accommodation, furniture, library, laboratory and other facilities.28 Inordinate delay in the conduct of examinations and then in the release of results by the University of Kashmir was another traumatic experience of the displaced students camped in Jammu.29 This often resulted in the loss of at least two years of their academic and professional careers. And to further compound their problems, the Kashmiri Pandit displaced community has been suffering from a lack of employment opportunities. At the time of their displacement, there were around 12,711 Kashmiri Pandit employees (Kashkari, 2003) out of about 300,000 working with the state government and its undertakings. Almost all migrant employees have retired or died by now. As per the official data placed before the State Legislative Assembly in June 2016, the total number of state government employees was 4,84,901.30 This number increased to at least 700,000 with the addition of employees serving central government, public and private sector undertakings, which too have little representation of Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons. Fresh recruitments among this minority community have been negligible. The state government is reported to have made over 2,65,000 recruitments during the decade (1991–2000), out of which only 345 were Kashmiri Pandits (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). According to a survey of 498 families at Muthi Camp-I and II, there was 669 claimants for immediate employment (as on 8 April 1998), out of which 53% were graduates and 40% postgraduates, all in the age group of 20 to 40 years.31 A sizeable percentage (72%) of Kashmiri Pandits eligible for employment were reported to be unemployed and looking for jobs (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). This policy of denial of employment avenues to the displaced persons has wreaked havoc on the very survival of this community. Response The initial response to this colossal tragedy was of muted silence, which was facilitated by the absence of social media and visual media reporting. All through the past three decades, the response of the Indian government to the organised ethnic cleansing/genocide of Kashmiri Pandits has been marked by its reluctance to deal effectively with the extremists and terrorists responsible for this tragedy. Its priority has been to prevent any fallout/backlash in the rest of the country. No terrorist has been convicted/punished for committing

94  Kulbhushan Warikoo the gory acts of death and destruction. There has been an abject failure of law-and-order machinery, executive, judiciary, civil society, media, the intellectual and political elite of the country even to raise their voice and act against the perpetrators. The case of Farooq Ahmad Dar alias Bitta Karate, who himself admitted on TV channel to have killed over 20 Kashmir Pandits, was released on 27 October 2007 by the trial court citing lack of evidence. A Kashmiri journalist laments that “Bitta Karate eluded justice because the criminal justice system in Jammu and Kashmir is quite dead” (Gilani, 2007: p. 7). On 24 July 2017, the Supreme Court of India dismissed a public interest litigation that sought a fair and independent investigation into Kashmiri Pandits’ killings between 1990 and early 2000. The Apex Court ruled: We decline to entertain this petition under Article 32 of the Constitution of India, for the simple reason that the instances referred to in the present petition pertain to the year 1989–1990, and more than 27 years have passed by since then. No fruitful purpose would emerge, as evidence is unlikely to be available at this late juncture (Gigoo and Sharma, 2018: pp. xiv–xv). This is in stark contrast to the active judicial intervention by the lower court, Delhi High Court and Supreme Court of India in conducting the trial and conviction of persons accused of anti-Sikh riots in Delhi in November 1984, even after a lapse of about 30 years. A three-member bench of the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), while disposing off a set of petitions filed by Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons represented by Panun Kashmir Movement, All India Kashmiri Samaj etc., in its ruling of 11 June 1999, likened the crimes against Kashmiri Pandits as “akin to genocide”.32 It ruled that “the crimes committed against the Kashmiri Pandits are by any yardstick deserving of the strongest condemnation. And there can be no gainsaying the acute suffering and deprivation caused to the community”.33 Observing that while acts akin to genocide have occurred in respect of the Kashmiri Pandits and that, indeed, in the minds and utterances of some of the militants a ‘genocide-type design’ may exist, the crimes against the Kashmiri Pandits, grave as they undoubtedly are, fall short of the ‘ultimate’crime: Genocide.34 The Kashmiri Pandits who were forced to leave their homes have been designated as ‘Migrants’ and not ‘Internally Displaced Persons’, thus denying them the facilities and compensation of their lost homes, land, jobs, businesses etc. Even the registration process of Kashmiri displaced persons was initiated by voluntary organisations like Jammu and Kashmir Sahayita Samiti in Jammu and Kashmir Samiti in Delhi. The government started registering displaced families in March 1990, and the number of such families increased from 2,101 in March 1990 to 56,041 by the end of March 1991(Chrungoo, 2003). But tents/camps for only 5,720 families were set up in Purkhoo, Muthi, Mishrawallah and Nagrota, adjacent to nullahs and watersheds, which were flooded during monsoons causing immense misery to the displaced persons (Chrungoo, 2003). This led to the death of thousands of Kashmiri Pandits due to disease, heat strokes, snake bites and accidents.

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  95 The  majority of the Kashmiri Pandits lived in rented accommodation at Jammu, Delhi and other places living off their savings, jewellery and distress sale of their properties in the Valley for peanuts. But for the payment of measly monthly living allowance to only 16,800 displaced families in Jammu, no substantive steps have been taken for the relief and rehabilitation of the victims. The Kashmiri Pandit inmates of Jagati Camp near Jammu have been holding daily protest demonstrations since October 2020, demanding an increase in their monthly allowance of INR 3,250.00 per persons subject to a maximum of INR 13,000.00 (about US$170) to INR 25,000.00 (about US$330) per month, but without any response from the government. This deliberate negative and malicious attitude of the government towards the sufferers should be seen in the context of the central government largesse provided to Jammu and Kashmir, sans Kashmiri Pandits. The budget for the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir for the financial year 2020–2021, which provided one INR 1 lakh crore (US$15 billion), including Direct Benefit Transfer (DBT) to 45,000 beneficiaries and 60,000 pensioners, made no allocation for Kashmiri Pandits.35 And for the fiscal year April 2021– March 2022, the federal government provided INR 1.08 lakh crore (about US$16 billion) for Jammu and Kashmir, which is the highest ever.36 And this time too, not a single penny has been earmarked for the relief and rehabilitation of Kashmiri Pandits displaced persons. When various parties and separatist outfits in Kashmir realised that the forced exodus of Kashmiri Pandits tarnished the image of Kashmiri Muslims, they were quick to start a malicious campaign that the then governor Jagmohan engineered the exodus. This blatant lie, which was and is being parroted by one and all in the Valley, was a well-crafted strategy to deny the facts of ethnic cleansing/genocide of Kashmiri Pandits. The truth is that the victims fled in private trucks, taxis etc., paying exorbitant charges, as little bus transport was available due to the serious security situation. The majority of the families could only carry bare minimum clothes leaving their belongings behind (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). During the past 33 years, the perpetrators have not accepted the truth, not to speak of any remorse. Instead, whenever state or central government would make a symbolic announcement of the return and rehabilitation of Kashmiri Pandits with dignity, local separatists and extremist groups respond with renewed threats of violence. Irked by the statement of Hurriyat Conference leader Mirwaiz Umar Farooq inviting few Kashmiri Pandits to Srinagar on 19 July 2005 to discuss their possible return to the Valley, four militant groups Al-Nasreen, Farzadan-e-Millat, Save Kashmir Movement and Al-Arifeen warned against their return to the Valley.37 It is an irony that a vocal section of Indian media, academia and the Muslim elite who are now identified with the Tukde Tukde (Breaking India) gang, picked up and further propagated the lies manufactured by Kashmiri separatists. Whereas there has been a total denial of the genocide of Kashmiri Pandits by the Valley Muslims, the general Indian

96  Kulbhushan Warikoo response has been of disbelief and being mute spectators. The Bollywood, intelligentsia, political elite, media and others who take up any sundry issue on the social media etc. have acted deaf and dumb, remaining silent and indifferent. The caste and regional divide afflicting the Indian society, in which non-Brahmans constitute a majority, has also been responsible for the general indifference and apathy towards Kashmiri Pandits, who belong to the upper caste of Brahmans. As regards the Indian Muslims, they have largely maintained a studied silence, while the extremist Muslims side with the Kashmiri separatists and Islamists. However, Shiv Sena, led by the late Balasaheb Thackery, came to the rescue of Kashmiri displaced youth by providing reservation of seats to professional courses in Maharashtra. Later some central institutions and many other states followed suit. This step enabled hundreds of Kashmiri Pandit youth to become trained professionals, which fetched them jobs in the private sector. The Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP), taking cognisance of the gruesome tragedy, played it up in their campaigns and election meetings, which did help the party in mobilising Hindu votes and bringing the party to power both at the centre and in many states. As regards rendering of substantive help to the victims, party leaders like late Kedar Nath Sahni (then BJP president, Delhi) and late Madan Lal Khurana (then chief minister of Delhi) helped numerous Kashmiri Pandits in Delhi in getting tehbazari rights as street vendors in various markets and about 150 positions of teachers in Delhi. Many erstwhile engineers and professionals took up the job of being street vendors to make their both ends meet. There has been consistent denial, apathy and a conspiracy of silence. It is believed that the Indian government has been following a policy of co-opting the Kashmiri Muslim intellectual, media, social and political elite in various capacities to manage the crisis in Kashmir. While retaining their demands of Azadi (freedom)/secession from India, the majority of Kashmiri Muslims are content with the booty gained through the occupation of Kashmiri Pandit houses, land, business/educational establishments, many places of worship and even the cremation grounds. They do not want any undoing of their accumulated wealth and any dilution of the total Islamisation of Kashmir with the exclusion of non-Muslims. They have succeeded in instilling the idea in the corridors of power in Delhi that Kashmir would be at peace without its indigenous Kashmiri Pandits, who need to be kept away from the Valley. There has been massive economic development in Kashmir during the past 33 years through the billions of dollars of liberal central government assistance and generation of wealth through the grab/sale of Kashmiri Pandit immoveable properties, business, educational and religious establishments. And no Kashmiri Muslim beneficiary wants to let go of this appropriated wealth and restore the Kashmiri Pandits their lost territorial locus. The harsh reality is that nothing has been done even to alleviate the miseries of 800-odd Pandit families who could not move out of the Valley and have been living a life of abject poverty with no means of sustenance. Many of them were forced

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  97 to shift from their homes to temporary rented accommodation for safety within the Valley itself. The astounding success of the recently released Bollywood film The Kashmir Files (in March 2022) portraying the gory killings and ethnic cleansing of Kashmiri Pandits has rattled many Indian mainstream intellectuals and politicians, who have dubbed it as an attempt by the Hindu Right to vilify the Muslims. The film has evoked strong denial by the Kashmiri Muslims of their organised assaults, killings, land grabbing of properties etc. of Kashmiri Pandits. It has been accompanied by renewed threats by Islamist organisations like Lashkar-e-Islam asking the residue Pandits in the Valley to leave or get killed. It only demonstrates their determination to consolidate the Islamicisation of Kashmir, exclusion of non-Muslims from the Valley and agenda of jehadi separatism. The fact remains that the genocide of Kashmiri Pandits has been carried out by the armed militants with the tacit support of the political, intellectual and the Kashmiri Muslims. And now they want rest of India and the world to forget and cover up this tragedy of Kashmiri Pandits. As regards the Hindu right organisations like RSS and BJP, they have appropriated the popularity of the film as vindication of their ideology and as a means of consolidation of their vote bank. However, they have not taken any step to alleviate the miseries of Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons. In fact, the BJP government just got a massive budget outlay of over INR 1.12 lakh crore (over US$16 billion) for the Union Territory of J&K for the year 2022–2023 passed by the Indian parliament. (Greater Kashmir 26 March 2022), which does not include a rupee for the beleaguered Pandits. The film based on actual happenings and over 700 testimonies of the victims and their families has been an eye opener for the majority of Indians who could not believe that such a gruesome tragedy could be enacted in an otherwise secular, tolerant and democratic India. At the same time, the stiff opposition to this film by the left leaning liberal and Muslim sections of Indian society shows that they are interested only in their politics of BJP versus the rest. They fail to realise that the genocide of Kashmiri Pandits and their ethnic cleansing from the Valley is an assault on the very idea of inclusive, tolerant, democratic and secular India. Until and unless this bitter truth is realised and accepted by the Kashmiri Muslims and Indian society at large, the Kashmir experience puts a big question mark on the sustainability of Indian territorial integrity and its value system. Conclusion All basic human rights to life, property, freedom of faith, health, education and equal participation in social and economic progress of the indigenous minority of Kashmiri Pandits have been violated. Terrorism unleashed by Islamist terrorists since 1989 specifically targeted Kashmiri Pandits for their un-Islamic faith. Massacres of Kashmiri Pandits, burning down, destruction and usurpation of their homes and other immoveable properties,

98  Kulbhushan Warikoo kidnappings and rape of women and forced exodus of the entire community are crimes against humanity. The looming threat to their womenfolk and forced conversion to Islam, total breakdown of law-and-order machinery and targeted killings led to the spontaneous exodus of Kashmiri Pandits from the Valley, most of them escaping in the dark hours of the night. Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits was carried out through their systematic persecution, vilification campaign, declaration of jehad (holy war), abductions, rape, torture, brutal killings and massacres and forced expulsion followed by destruction and occupation of their homes and other properties and means of livelihood, thus closing all prospects of their return to the Valley. Kashmiri Pandits present a classic case of human rights violations, oppression, dispossession of their property and territory, marginalisation in cultural, economic and political terms and adverse discrimination on the basis of their distinct ethnoreligious identity. This displaced community is a victim of sinister design unleashed by Pakistan-sponsored terrorists to deprive the ancient and indigenous Kashmiri Pandits of their territorial locus in Kashmir to permanently alter its social and political order to a mono-ethnic Islamist state. Restoration of human rights and homeland with dignity, security, freedom of faith and religion of this displaced minority community, duly safeguarded by appropriate legal, administrative, and institutional arrangements and structures, is the sine qua non for peace and security in Kashmir. Kashmiri Pandit community is on the verge of extinction faced with high death and low birth rates, wide dispersal, high incidence of serious diseases like depression, cancer, heart ailments, diabetes, kidney disorder and so on. The displaced community living in Jammu, Udhampur, National Capital region etc. has lost few hundred lives to the second wave of Covid, at the beginning of March 2021. In several cases, more than two members of a family, including parents or their children living with them, have succumbed to this deadly virus. Breaking down of family structures has resulted in the loss of community bonds and social cohesion. While memories of persecution, terror and killings have been haunting Kashmiri Pandits, their uprootedness, loss of homes, properties and other avenues back home in the Valley, coupled with the lack of Indian social, economic, administrative and political support and judicial redressal, has turned the entire community despondent and alienated. As Kaul (2020: p.12) puts it, “successive central and state governments treated them with a malicious cynicism – Pandits were of importance only as political pawns, to be trundled out as examples of the ravages of fundamentalist Islam.” Political marginalisation of Kashmiri Pandits in state and national politics is complete. In 1952, 1962 and 1967 assembly elections, Kashmiri Pandits represented three constituencies—Habba Kadal and Amira Kadal in Srinagar district and Pahalgam in Anantnag district. By 1972, they were reduced to one constituency of Pahalgam (Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People, 2006). Later on, gerrymandering of Kashmiri Pandit strongholds by merging parts of these

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  99 constituencies in Muslim majority areas closed all chances for Kashmiri Pandits to win any seat. And after their forced exodus and dispersal across India, the Kashmiri Pandits have been kept out of any political participation. Very few Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons have been able to register themselves as eligible voters. Even the Delimitation Commission constituted by the BJP government has failed to take cognisance of the electoral rights of about half a million displaced Kashmiri Pandits scattered in Jammu, Udhampur, National Capital Region, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Maharashtra etc. It could have addressed this issue by allocating few assembly constituencies for the displaced Kashmiri Pandits. Here one would state that way back in 1947–1948, Pakistan reserved 12 seats in its 53-member Pakistan-occupied Kashmir assembly exclusively for nearly 30,000 Kashmiri Muslim and 434,000 Jammu Muslim refugees who migrated to Pakistan soon after partition, even if they are settled/scattered in cities like Rawalpindi, Sialkot, Lahore, Punjab across Pakistan (Tariq Bhat, July 25 AJK Elections: Constituencies of Kashmiri Refugees spread across Pakistan. The News, 21 July 2021). In spite of being forced into a life of destitution and indignity, the peace-loving Kashmiri Pandits retained their basic values and moral strength, living a frugal yet dignified life. There has been no case of any criminal activity or vices such as theft, robbery, financial frauds, murders, prostitution, violence or anti-India activities involving the Kashmiri Pandits. Over 20,000 Kashmiri Pandit boys and girls are working/living abroad, mainly in the US, Europe, Australia, and West Asian Muslim countries. No Kashmiri Pandit displaced person has ever sought political asylum abroad, unlike many Kashmiri Muslims and Sikhs who have used an anti-India plank to gain entry and employment abroad. Many Sikh and Kashmiri Muslim emigrees have been engaged in running anti-India campaigns through social media, organising meetings and protest demonstrations. Despite the fact that the displaced community is totally marginalised and pushed to the wall, they remain patriotic Indians while suffering passively in silence. That the aborigine Kashmir Pandit minority suffered organised ethnic-religious cleansing at the hands of ideologically bigoted, violent and sadist Islamist killers in the Muslim-majority Kashmir is a dark blemish on the credentials of Indian secular democracy. India needs to take cognisance of the dark side of its electoral system and set right the malpractices of vote bank politics determined by religion, caste and regional divide. At the same time, the deformities in the process of delivery of justice need to be removed. In view of the circumstances explained above, it becomes, therefore, imperative to take at least some basic steps to instil confidence in this beleaguered displaced community and save it from getting obliterated, on the following lines: 1 Following the revocation of Articles 370 and 35 A and the creation of the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir, the central government needs to carry out a thorough and special census of Kashmiri Pandits scattered

100  Kulbhushan Warikoo across India and also abroad, to establish their proper and exact numbers. This becomes necessary because the Census of 1981 understated their numbers at only 110,000, which is belied by the exodus of about 450,000 Kashmiri Pandits after 1989. The fresh census should assess the impact of displacement on the socio-economic and health conditions of the Kashmiri Pandits. Besides, domicile certificates to all Kashmiri Pandits who or whose ancestors were born in Jammu and Kashmir should be issued (Pulla, 2022). The local Muslim bureaucracy has succeeded in derailing the process of issuing these domicile certificates. 2 Guiding Principle No.21 on Internal Displacement38 states, No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of property and possessions. The property and possessions of internally displaced persons shall in all circumstances be protected, in particular against pillage, attacks, being destroyed or appropriated. Property and possessions left behind by internally displaced persons should be protected against destruction and arbitrary and illegal appropriation, occupation or use. The issue of restitution of houses and landed properties of Kashmiri Pandits displaced persons, occupied forcibly or acquired through other means, including distress sales, needs to be addressed on a priority basis. The government should initiate steps to: a Prepare a detailed tehsil/district-wise inventory of landholdings, houses, shops, business establishments, religious, educational and cultural establishments, orchards, trees and other forms of immovable properties left behind by the displaced Kashmiri Pandits before their exodus by inviting details from the affected people so that the actual extent of losses can be recorded. b Declare null and void the sale deeds, attorneys and fraudulent mutations/transfer of Kashmiri Pandit properties by the local Muslim mafia comprising the usurper-patwari-Tehsildar-politician-bureaucrat nexus and restore the properties to their rightful owners. The recently launched mechanism of inviting complaints from the affected Kashmiri Pandits is  not making any headway due to the stiff resistance of the local Muslim occupiers aided by the local bureaucracy, political elite, with the militants resorting to targeted killings of some Kashmiri Pandits still  left in the Valley. Recently, in April 2022, the terrorist outfit Lashkar-e-Islam issued a fresh threat to Kashmiri Pandits still living in Kashmir, to convert to Islam or leave the Valley or get killed. They even killed one Satish Kumar Singh, a driver by profession in Kulgam on 13 April 2022, to demonstrate their intention. (ANI 13 April 2022). The threat letter warned, “Leave Kashmir or get killed. Every Kashmiri Pandit wil l die. Kashmir is only for those who accept and follow Allah.

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  101 Every Kashmir Pandit who is in Kashmir will be despatched to hell” (opindia.com/2022/04/kashmiri-hindu-shot-dead-by-islamic-terroristsin-kulgam). c Provide adequate relief and compensation in lieu of the losses of their moveable and immoveable properties to the affected persons. 3 Now that Jammu and Kashmir is a Union Territory, the jurisdiction of the  National Minority Commission should be enforced there to look into  the problems of non-Muslim minorities. It may be recalled that in 1982 the J&K state legislature had passed a bill to set up the State Minority Commission, only to be repealed subsequently by the then G.M. Shah government. The former chairman of National Commission for Minorities, Dr Tahir Mahmood, had made a strong recommendation to the state chief minister, asking the state government to take legislative and executive measures for according to minority status to Hindus living in the state.39Ironically, the benefits of affirmative action programmes for minorities are granted to Kashmiri Muslims, who form a majority in Jammu and Kashmir instead of Kashmiri Pandit minority. 4 Central government and voluntary agencies should come forward to assist the Kashmiri Pandit displaced persons and their institutions by providing liberal assistance in terms of land, finance and infrastructure to build educational and cultural institutions and also small hospitals/clinics to cater to the specific needs of this population, in the same manner as is being done through Development Finance Corporations exclusively set up for the welfare of minorities and scheduled castes and scheduled tribes. The Government of India can follow the example of over 100,000 Tibetan refugees who were provided land for settlement and liberal financial assistance for setting up educational and cultural institutions, thus safeguarding their distinct culture and identity. 5 The J&K government, in its written reply to the State Assembly, admitted in 2012 that “of the 438 temples in the Valley, 208 had been damaged”. However, Kashmiri Pandit Sangharsh Samiti disputed the government figures and stated that “around 550 temples were damaged and 50,000 kanals of land encroached upon” (Ashiq, 2012). Urgent measures need to be taken to restore, repair and maintain the temples and places of pilgrimage in the Valley by setting up a Kashmir Hindu Religious Shrines Board to take care of all their shrines. The government can easily restore and reconstruct Hindu temples, institutions and houses abandoned, destroyed or occupied along the bank of River Jhelum as part of the ongoing Srinagar Smart City Project. Similarly, the government needs to work out legal and institutional mechanisms for safeguarding and promoting the rich ethno-cultural heritage of Kashmiri Pandits. Late General S.K. Sinha, who was governor of Jammu and Kashmir (2003–2008), had proposed setting up an Islamic University and a Sharda University to preserve and promote the rich and ancient Buddhist and Hindu heritage of Kashmir. Though the

102  Kulbhushan Warikoo Islamic University of Science and Technology was set up at Awantipura, Kashmir, in 2005, the Sharda Peeth has not yet seen the light of the day. There is an urgent need for the establishment of Sharda Peeth/University in Kashmir to act as a national centre to preserve, study and promote the rich and ancient Buddhist and Hindu heritage of Kashmir in the form of rare manuscripts, artefacts, shrines, temples, architecture, language and culture. 6 Legislative and criminal proceedings related to terrorist atrocities and crimes heaped on the Kashmiri Pandits be initiated by setting up Special Courts/Tribunal to ensure expeditious trial, prosecution and punishment of terrorists. So far, no terrorist has been convicted. At the same time, a high-power commission be set up to investigate the causes and consequences of the forced displacement of Kashmiri Pandits. 7 Civil and political rights of the Kashmiri Pandits need to be protected and promoted by giving them adequate representation in various legislative, government and public bodies. A Kashmiri Pandit delegation met the Delimitation Commission at Delhi on 26 March 2021 placing before it the demand of reservation of five seats in the Assembly of the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir for the Hindu and Sikh minorities of the Kashmir Valley, “as they have remained unrepresented in Jammu and Kashmir continuously for the last five decades, initially due to gerrymandering of the Assembly constituencies in the Valley and later by the forced mass exodus due to terrorism in Kashmir”.40 They cited the precedence of seat reservation for “Sangha’s Lamas with no bounded territory in Sikkim” and also in Pudducherry Assembly where the Government of India nominates three members with voting powers to the 30 elected members Assembly”.41 Several Kashmiri Pandit organisations based in Delhi and Jammu have sent several memoranda to the prime minister of India and other important functionaries of the central and J&K government, making a fervent appeal for taking some tangible steps to address the above-stated “concerns of the long neglected community of kashmiri hindus”.42 Notes 1 The community’s forced exodus started in late 1989.Ever since, they have not been able to go to the Valley. 2 See The UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of  Genocide. 9 December 1948. https://www.un.org/en/genocideprevention/ genocide.shtml 3 Holocaust Memorial Day Trust. https://www.hmd.org.uk/learn-about-theholocaust-and-genocides/what-is-genocide/the-ten-stages-of-genocide/ 4 Report on the impact of migration on the socio-economic conditions of Kashmiri displaced people (2006, March). J&K Centre for Minority Studies, Jammu. India, Internet Archive Open Library. https://openlibrary.org/works/OL24058136W/ Report_on_the_impact_of_migration_on_the_socio-economic_conditions_of_ Kashmiri_displaced_people

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  103 5 Article 370, which granted special status and autonomy to the state of Jammu and Kashmir, was included in the Indian constitution as a “temporary, transitional and special provision”. Article 35 A, which was introduced by a Presidential Order of 1954, empowered the J&K Legislature to define a ‘permanent resident’ of the J&K state and to provide special rights and privileges to those permanent residents (Teng and Gadoo, n.d). 6 Choudhury Rahmat Ali (1933). Now or Never; Are We to Live or Perish Forever? The Pakistan Movement. https://web.archive.org/web/20110419012150/http:// www.chaudhryrahmatali.com/now%20or%20never/index.htm 7 The bold letters of the five Northern units of undivided India make ‘Pakstan’. Later on, the alphabet ‘i’was added after Pak to make it easier for pronunciation. 8 Author’s interview (at Srinagar in mid-March 1987) with late R.K. Kak, the then Kashmir correspondent of Statesman. Kak, a veteran Kashmiri journalist, had broken the news in his newspaper in December 1948. 9 The Statesman 28 January 1949. p 6. 10 Cited in Bazaz, Prem Nath,(1941). Inside Kashmir. Srinagar. p.288. 11 The incident was reported by the vernacular press and also Kashmir Times on 17 February 1987(p 1). 12 See Daily Afaq, 16 November 1992; Daily Nida-i-Mashriq, 30 January 1993; Daily Srinagar Times, 6 May 1993, 23 June 1993. 13 The announcement was published in a popular local newspaper Alsafa, Srinagar on 14 April 1990. 14 A young girl Sarla Bhat was raped and brutally murdered in April 1990 by Kashmiri Muslim terrorists, who even threatened her family not to cremate her. For gory details of the incident, please refer (Gigoo, and Sharma, 2018, pp. 5–8). 15 Daily Excelsior, Jammu, 23 March 1997. 16 Times of India 27 January 1998. 17 National Human Rights Commission, New Delhi, Case No. 998/94-95. NHRC; Case No. 1181/94-95/NHRC. p. 10. 18 www.anianews.in 17 March 2020. 19 Dr. Jitendra Singh’s interview was published in Kashmir Sentinel, Jammu, 1–28 February 1999. p. 12. 20 See Kashmir Sentinel, Jammu, 1–15 October 1999. 21 See Kashmir Sentinel, Jammu, 1–15 October 1999. 22 For his interview, see Times of India, 19 November 1997, p. 15. 23 Kashmir Sentinel 16 December–15 January 1999. 24 Kashmir Sentinel 16 December–15 January 1999 25 Kashmir Sentinel, 16–30 April 1999. 26 See letter from the Commr. & Secy. to Government, Revenue Deptt., J&K Govt. to Registrar, National Human Rights Commission, dated 25 June 1999, Koshur Samachar, Delhi, November 1999, pp. 31–32. 27 Kashmir Sentinel, 1–15 October 1999. 28 Kashmir Sentinel, 1–15 October 1999. 29 Displaced Students Suffering one way or the other. Kashmir Sentinel, 16–31 August 1998. 30 Greater Kashmir 22 June 2016. 31 NSS Survey at Muthi Camp. Kashmir Sentinel, 16–31 August 1998. 32 National Human Rights Commission, New Delhi, Case No. 998/94-95. NHRC; Case No. 1181/94-95/NHRC. 33 National Human Rights Commission, New Delhi, Case No. 998/94-95. NHRC; Case No. 1181/94-95/NHRC. 34 National Human Rights Commission, New Delhi, Case No. 998/94-95. NHRC; Case No. 1181/94-95/NHRC. 35 See J&K Budget has betrayed displaced Kashmiri Pandits. Outlook (The News Scroll) 21 March 2020.

104  Kulbhushan Warikoo 6 Greater Kashmir, Srinagar, 18 March 2021. 3 37 See Stay away from Valley, militants warn. Times of India 23 July 2005. 38 See International Review of the Red Cross No. 324. Pp. 545–56. 39 Dr. Tahir Mahmood’s letter of 12 January 1999 to Dr. Farooq Abdullah is cited in Hindustan Times, 15 January 1999. 40 Kashmir News Service 26 March 2021. 41 ibid. 42 KPs seek PM’s intervention, probe into atrocities. Daily Excelsior, Jammu, 14 March 2021. See also Kashmir Times, Jammu 14 March 2021.

References Abdullah, Sheikh Mohammad (1986). Aatish-e-Chinar (an autobiography). (In Urdu). Ali Mohd. & Sons. Ashiq, Peerzada (2012, October 4). 208 temples damaged in Kashmir. Hindustan Times. Assad, Bashir (2017). K File: The Conspiracy of Silence. Vitasta. Chowdhury, K.L. (2003). Health Trauma in Kashmiri Pandit Refugees. Paper presented at the Conference on Kashmiri Pundits: Problems and Prospects. New Delhi, ORF, 1–2 September. Chrungoo, Ajay (2003). Kashmiri Pandits: Problems, Prospects and Future. Paper presented at the Conference on Kashmiri Pundits: Problems and Prospects. New Delhi, ORF, 1–2 September. Das, T.K., Bhattacharyya, R., &Sarma, P. (2022). Revisiting geographies of nationalism and national identity in Bangladesh. Geojournal, 87, 1099–1120, 10.1007/ s10708-020-10305-1 Dixit, Sanjay (2020). Unbreaking India: Decisions on Article 370 and the CAA. Good Reads. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56380260-unbreaking-india Gigoo, Siddharth and Sharma, Varad (2018). A Long Dream of Home: The Persecution, Exodus and Exile of Kashmiri Pandits. Bloomsbury. Gilani, Iftikhar (2007). The Pandits’ Open Wound. The Pioneer. 15 September, p. 7. Kamran, Tahir (2017). Choudhary Rahmat Ali and his Political Imagination: Pak Plan and the Continent of Dinia. In Ali Usman Qasmi, Megan Eaton Robb (eds.). Muslims against the Muslim League (pp. 82–108). Cambridge University Press. Kashkari, V.K. (2003). Problems of Employees. Paper presented at the Conference on Kashmiri Pandits: Problems and Prospects. New Delhi, ORF, 1–2 September Kashmiri Samiti. (1986). A Report on February 1986 Riots in Kashmir. Delhi. Kaul, Anand. (1924). The Kashmiri Pandit. Utpal Publication. https://archive.org/ details/thekashmiripanditanandkoul. p.38 Kaul, K.L. and Teng, M.K. (1992). Human Rights Violations of Kashmiri Hindus. In Raju G.C. Thomas (ed.). Perspectives on Kashmir (pp. 175–188). Westview Press. Khan, A.Q. (n.d.) The Myth: Discrimination against Kashmiri Pandits? Srinagar. Koul, Mohan Lal. (1999). Kashmir: Wail of a Valley. Delhi: Gyan Sagar. Lawrence, Walter R. (Walter Roper), Sir (1894). The Valley of Kashmir. London: H. Frowde. https://archive.org/details/valleyofkashmir00lawruoft/page/6/mode/2up Pandita, Kashinath (Tr.) (1991). Baharistan-i-Shahi. Firma KLM Private Limited. Pandita, Kashinath (Tr.) (2018). A Muslim Missionary in Mediaeval Kashmir (being the English translation of TohfatulAhbab). Voice of India.

Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits  105 Pandit, Kashinath (2019). Ten Studies in Kashmir: History and Politics. Academic Foundation. https://www.icssr.org/publication/ten-studies-kashmir-history-andpolitics Pandita, Rahul (2017). Our Moon has Blood Clots: A Memoir of a Lost House in Kashmir. Penguin Random House. Pulla, V.R. (2022). Movies that Actually Get History: The Case and a Half of Kashmir Files: A Study in Social Blogging. Space and Culture, India, 10(1), 5–15. https://doi. org/10.20896/saci.v10i1.1265 Punjabi, Riyaz (1993) The Concept of an Islamic Caliphate: The Religious and Ethnic pulls of Kashmir Militant Movement. Journal of Peace Studies, 1(1), 43. Report on the Impact of Migration on the Socio Economic Conditions of Kashmiri Displaced People (2006. March). Seecoalharbour.com. https://www.seecoalharbour. com/book/report-on-the-impact-of-migration-on-the-socio-economic-conditionsof-kashmiri-displaced-people/ Stanton, Gregory (1996). The 8 Stages of Genocide. Genocide Watch. http:// genocidewatch.net/2013/03/14/the-8-stages-of-genocide/ Suvir, Kaul (2020, January 29). The Right to Return. Indian Express, p. 12. Teng, M.K. and Gadoo, C.L. (n.d.). White Paper on Kashmir. Delhi, p. 75. http:// www.ikashmir.net/whitepaper/chapter1.html Warikoo, K. (1998). Islamist Mercenaries and Terrorism in Kashmir. Himalayan and Central Asian Studies, 2(2), 35–57. Warikoo, K. (2011). Islamist Extremism in Kashmir. In K. Warikoo (ed.). Religion and Security in South and Central Asia (pp.67–82). London: Routledge. Wolpert, Stanley A. (1984). Jinnah of Pakistan. Oxford University Press.

5 Narratives, Violence and Consent The Normalisation of State Violence in Jammu and Kashmir Devika Mittal

Introduction Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) is among the heavily militarised regions in the world.1 To counter the insurgency that began in 1989, the Indian state imposed the Armed Forces (J&K) Special Powers Act, 1990. The law gives impunity to the armed forces.2 This is in addition to other security laws, such as the Jammu and Kashmir Public Safety Act 1978 (PSA).3 These laws have amounted to human rights violations which international and government-appointed inquiry commissions have documented. There are reports of extrajudicial killings, fake encounters and even sexual violence by the state forces. Yet, the laws continue to exercise power. On 5 August 2019, Article 370 and Article 35A, which gave J&K a special status due to its history of aligning with the Indian union, were abrogated. While Article 370 gave the erstwhile region of J&K the right to have its own special constitution and to make its own laws in all matters except in the fields of finance, defence, foreign affairs and communications, Article 35A prohibited outsiders to permanently settle in Kashmir or buy land, access state government jobs.4 Further, the status of J&K as a state was changed into that of a union territory.5 The implementation of this decision entailed the imposition of a complete curfew in the region that restricted fundamental rights of the people as the government restricted movement, blocked communication channels and house-arrested prominent political leaders.6 After about a year, the curfew coincided with the nationwide Covid-19 lockdown that spanned about two months. Even during the Covid-19 lockdown, the union territory struggled with low-speed internet which caused several problems, such as restricted access to healthcare and education.7 The J&K situation, especially post–5 August 2019 poses an antithesis to the model of democracy that India bases itself on. The preamble to the Constitution of the world’s largest democracy is based on the ideals of equality, liberty and justice. However, the state’s action did not see any major protest by Indians living outside of J&K. On the contrary, when Articles 370 and 35A were abrogated, there were victory rallies conducted in different parts of the country. In fact, some of the opposition leaders also welcomed DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-5

Narratives, Violence and Consent  107 the step.8 How do we understand this contradiction? How has the state manufactured consent for the violation of these ideals? This study focuses on the people in the rest of the country and examines their understanding of the curtailment of basic rights and compromise of the constitutional ideals in J&K. To understand the popular discourse, the role of the production and circulation of state-manufactured narratives and the contribution of media in this meaning-making process is examined. After a brief note on the methodology, the chapter is structured to begin with a theoretical contextualisation of the state violence in J&K. To understand the xenophobic attitude that underlies state violence and arbitrary steps, such as the abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A and curfew, the chapter moves on to examine the politics of narratives. The section explores the state-manufactured narratives around the history and the contemporary situation in J&K and notes that a historical narrative which delegitimises Kashmiri sub-nationalism and secessionist demands is circulated through the national curriculum. The following section probes the institution of media and locates it as a means to the ends of the Indian state. Referring to the media reportage of some incidents, the role of media in reproducing the state narrative and further consolidating them as the “sole” truth is explored. Deconstructing “Kashmir”: A Note on Methodology This chapter seeks to examine that the normalisation and even justification of militarisation and state violence in J&K by people in the rest of the country is based on the analysis of the state discourse on Kashmir which is circulated through different mediums and which feeds into the popular discourse. Focusing on media as one of the mediums, the study analyses reportage of some important events in mainstream and alternative Indian media portals. The arguments of the study also draw heavily from the responses of a questionnaire (please refer to the Appendix below) that sought to inquire the popular narrative on the sources of violence in J&K, the decision of the abrogation of Article 370 and on the freedom of the press. While the questionnaire was originally aimed for circulation among non-J&K Indians, it received responses from people of J&K too since it was circulated online. The questionnaire received a total of 116 responses. In terms of the ethnic composition, the respondents include Kashmiri Muslims, Kashmiri Pandits, people from Jammu and non-J&K Indians from different parts of the country. A total of 82 non-Kashmiri Indians participated in the questionnaire. Understanding State Violence There has been a long history of political violence in the modern world. With colonisation, the entire world was controlled by a few using systematic violence. The nation-states have fought against each other. Even within their

108  Devika Mittal own territory, nation-states have resorted to violence. They have committed genocide in both colonised lands and in their own nation-states (Baer, 2017; Mann, 2005). The Germans, according to Baer (2017), committed “the first genocide of the twentieth century in German Southwest Africa (present-day Namibia) between 1904 and 1907” (Baer, 2017, p. 3). In fact, she links the genocidal strategies of the Germans in Namibia to the Holocaust using the metaphor of “genocidal gaze”. She argues that when the Herero and Nama people rebelled against the German imperialists, they were killed in concentration camps and forced labour camps. During the Third Reich, the same supremacist ideology that dehumanised people and concentration camps was used by the Nazi Germans to kill Jews, communists and many other groups (Baer, 2017). While Nazi Germany was a totalitarian regime and cannot be regarded as a “democracy”, Mann (2005), in his study of ethnic cleansing, believes that democracy has always carried the possibility of violence. This emanates from the fact that in a democracy a majority can tyrannise the minorities. This is especially true for multi-ethnic contexts. This, however, does not mean that it is only limited to multi-ethnic democracies. Mann (2005) delves into the history of some Western democratic countries and demonstrates how these nation-states used violence to homogenise their populations ethnically. It could do so as the state has, as Weber (1946) rightly points out, the sole monopoly of legitimate violence. In the name of protecting integrity and sovereignty, states wage war against secessionist attempts. It also has the weapons, including the weapon of manufactured legitimacy, to declare war against any group that may question it. India is not an exception. The state violence in J&K and particularly in Kashmir is primarily a response to Kashmiri sub-nationalism and secessionist demands. Indian state’s response to Kashmiri sub-nationalism can be characterised as xenophobic. Xenophobia is, as Akinola (2020) defines, the display of hatred, hostility and violence against those people categorised as ‘Others’, ‘outsiders’, ‘immigrants’, ‘non-locals’ and ‘foreigners’ (p. 149). Used specifically in the context of national communities, foreigners, immigrants or any group that is not part of the community is subjected to discrimination and hatred. Here, the Kashmiri nationalists are being considered as the “other” or out-group as they resist inclusion in the Indian national community/ nation-state. To counter armed insurgency and secessionist movement, the state introduced several xenophobic steps that include erasure of Kashmir’s history in the national curriculum, heavy militarisation in the region combined with draconian laws such as the Armed Forces (J&K) Special Powers Act in 1990. AFSPA gives the armed forces the right to shoot at sight, torture, raid houses and arrest without warrant.9 AFSPA also protects the army persons with legal impunity. Doing so, AFSPA violates the fundamental constitutional rights of right to life, liberty, equality, freedom of speech and expression, peaceful assembly and protection against arbitrary arrest granted to the

Narratives, Violence and Consent  109 citizens of India. As documented by human rights’ organisations10 and government-appointed commissions and noted by the Indian judiciary (Noorani, 2003), these unrestrained powers have been misused by the armed forces. There have been extrajudicial killings, fake encounters, extrajudicial disappearances, tortures and rapes.11 The Justice Verma committee of 201212 noted the sexual violence committed by the armed forces in conflict zones. The report read: We now address a very important, yet often neglected area concerning sexual violence against women – that of legal protections for women in conflict areas. Our views on this subject are informed by the plight of a large number of women from areas in Kashmir, the North-East, Chhattisgarh, Odisha and Andhra Pradesh who were heard at length in the course of preparing our report. We are indeed deeply concerned at the growing distrust of the State and its efforts to designate these regions as ‘areas of conflict’ even when civil society is available to engage and inform the lot of the poor. 13 (Report, 2013, p. 149) But, as stated earlier, the state wields a weapon of legitimacy to justify its violence. Mann (2005) talks about ideological power, which he defines as “the mobilization of values, norms, and rituals in human societies” (Mann, 2005, p. 30). He demonstrates how political regimes and groups acquire this power and legitimise their acts and mobilise support. The role of ideology has been emphasised in several studies on genocide (Baer, 2017; Feierstein, 2014; Karpinski and Ruvinsky, 2016; Oncioiu, 2016). Oncioiu (2016), in her analysis of ethnic nationalism in Romania and Serbia, talks about the significance of the construction of the other. She writes, “[i]n cases of extreme forms of violence, there is a pattern: there is ‘us’ – the superior, almighty us – and there is ‘them’, the inferior, dangerous ‘them’ who must be eliminated” (Oncioiu, 2016, p. 27). Indeed, she notes how the “other” is constructed. Similarly, in their studies on the Nazi holocaust, Feierstein (2014) and Karpinski and Ruvinsky (2016) demonstrate how the Nazis acquired the ideological power and established themselves to be the superior race and demonised the Jews as the “other”, regarding them to be racially inferior and a threat to the nation. Speaking of acquiring this ideological power, the states have the power and the means to form and circulate an ideology that may justify their violence. The Indian state does possess this power. It has the power to construct a narrative and the means to disseminate it as the sole ‘truth’. Kashmir: A Conflict of Narratives The roots of the Kashmir conflict go back to the time when India got independence from British rule. Faced with the decision to join either India or

110  Devika Mittal Pakistan, the princely state of J&K was in trouble. The princely state of J&K consisted of different regions – Jammu, Ladakh, Gilgit (Northern Areas) and Kashmir Valley, which was internally divided into several principalities. The treaty of Amritsar (1846) between the East India company and Raja Gulab Singh of Jammu handed over the princely state to the Dogra rulers. The non-Kashmiri, Hindu rulers had ruled the state from 1846 to 1947 (Zutschi, 2009, p. 10). Both India and Pakistan wanted the princely state for political and strategic concerns. The political desire for J&K is well explained by Chenoy (2006) as he argues that for Pakistan acquiring this Muslim-majority region was important for its nationalism, which was founded on the “two-nation theory”14 that argued that Hindus and Muslims constitute two separate nations and that Muslims would be oppressed under Hindu-majority rule. Thus, the region with 77.1% Muslim population (Zaidi, 2003) could not be left in the Hindu-majority India. On the other hand, having a Muslim-majority state would have helped post-partition India in its image of being secular. Thus, Kashmir became an important region for both the countries (Chenoy, 2006, p. 24). According to the two-nation theory that guided the partition, all Muslim majority areas had to go to Pakistan, while Hindu majority areas were to join India. As per this, the princely state of J&K was supposed to join Pakistan. While the princely state was ethnically diverse, Muslims constituted the majority. However, the ruling Dogra king Maharaja Hari Singh wanted the state to be independent (Sebastian, 1996, p. 320). From this point, the historical narrative begins to vary, depending on one’s identity. Given the scope of this study, we shall look at the official Indian narrative and few alternative narratives. India circulates its official narrative through several mediums, including the national curriculum. The Class XII NCERT textbook of political science states: Before 1947, Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) was a Princely State. Its Hindu ruler, Hari Singh, did not want to merge with India and tried to negotiate with India and Pakistan to have an independent status for his state. The Pakistani leaders thought the Kashmir region ‘belonged’ to Pakistan, since majority population of the State was Muslim. But this is not how the people themselves saw it – they thought of themselves as Kashmiris above all. The popular movement in the State, led by Sheikh Abdullah of the National Conference, wanted to get rid of the Maharaja, but was against joining Pakistan. The National Conference was a secular organisation and had a long association with the Congress. Sheikh Abdullah was a personal friend of some of the leading nationalist leaders including Nehru. In October 1947, Pakistan sent tribal infiltrators from its side to capture Kashmir. This forced the Maharaja to ask for Indian military help. India extended the military support and drove

Narratives, Violence and Consent  111 back the infiltrators from Kashmir valley, but only after the Maharaja had signed an ‘Instrument of Accession’ with the Government of India. It was also agreed that once the situation normalised, the views of the people of J&K will be ascertained about their future. Sheikh Abdullah took over as the Prime Minister of the State of J&K (the head of the government in the State was then called Prime Minister) in March 1948. India agreed to maintain the autonomy of Jammu and Kashmir. (NCERT, 2015, pp. 149–171) While this official narrative makes a note of the fact that India was not the initial choice for Kashmiris and that they wanted to be independent, does not probe it and even seem to reject the idea that Kashmiris would have chosen Pakistan. The narrative paints the Pakistani claim over Kashmir to be illegitimate and forced. Later in the discussion, the chapter mentions that there are separatist assertions in Kashmir and states that there are three groups of people, among which is a group that wants Kashmir to merge with Pakistan. It, however, does not deliberate on why people from Kashmir may want to accede to Pakistan. This narrative also underplays the ethnic heterogeneity of J&K. Alternative narratives unveil the complex socio-political geography of the region. According to Arakatoram (2009), Kanjwal et al. (2018), Sebastian (1996) and Zutschi (2009), among others, there were many voices against the Maharaja of J&K. Arakatoram (2009) and Sebastian (1996) note that the Dogra rule had traditionally been oppressive towards the Muslims. In fact, according to Arakatoram (2009), it was in the interest of both Muslims and Kashmiri Pandits to overthrow the Dogra rule as both suffered under the Dogra rule (p. 36). The freedom movement led by Sheikh Abdullah was a secular one. Sheikh Abdullah was opposed to the king, but he also did not support joining Pakistan. Arakatoram (2009) further argues that Abdullah was close to Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, and this had made the Pakistani state suspicious. Fearing that J&K will eventually join India, Pakistan sent troops, who were supported by Muslims in the Poonch sector (Arakatoram, 2009, p. 36). While Arakatoram’s narrative (2009) recognises diverse political aspirations, it does not probe the situation of the Kashmiris, especially that of the Muslims, sufficiently. Sebastian (1996) offers a different narrative. In October 1947, states Sebastian (1996), the Muslim rebels of Poonch led an uprising against the Dogra ruler, but they were brutally suppressed. To support them, a tribesman from across the border entered the region. Once they crossed Poonch and entered the Kashmir Valley, they started killing, raping and looting indiscriminately. In response, Hari Singh turned to seek help from India. Jawaharlal Nehru agreed to help Hari Singh but on the condition that the princely state will accede to India. Hari Singh accepted this on certain conditions that included the conduct of a referendum that would let the people of J&K decide their future.

112  Devika Mittal Zutschi’s narrative (2009) also highlights the role of Pakistan in contributing to the political turmoil. She argues that the Pakistani state had supported the rebels (Zutschi, 2009, p. 10). Her accounts also highlight the ethnic heterogeneity of the J&K region as it also notes the rebellion by the people of Gilgit region, which remains completely missing in the official textbook narrative. Moving further, as we know, the aforementioned referendum never took place. Following the first India-Pakistan War of 1947–1948 over Kashmir, the UN officially declared Kashmir to be a disputed territory and formalised an international border that divides Indian-administered J&K with areas of J&K that Pakistan administers. At that time, India and Pakistan got control over, respectively, 65% and 35% of the J&K region. Following the IndoChina War of 1962, China took 20% of Indian-controlled J&K.15 Mahmud (2006) asserts that while Pakistan’s acceptance of J&K and the region administered by them to be a disputed territory and not their “integral part” shows ambiguity to some extent, India clearly claimed J&K to be its “integral part”. The official map of India shows the entire J&K region to be part of India. The textbook narrative also supports this. The secessionist aspirations on both sides of Kashmir also never died down. The aspirations also received backing from the Pakistan army through the supply of arms and training. Many militant groups worked on both sides of Kashmir. The militancy took a new turn in the 1990s, and it was to counter this militancy that the state-imposed the Armed Forces Special Powers Act 1990 on J&K (Kanjwal et al., 2018). The Indian narrative expressed in the NCERT textbook does not make any mention of this law or the problems with militarisation. It does not probe that heavy militarisation, AFSPA and rigged politics in the region could be the reason for the rise of armed insurgency. In his article, Chenoy (2006) points out that there was no self-introspection. During the 1987 elections, Chenoy states, the opposition Muslim United Front candidates were robbed of a significant number of seats. Counting agents and candidates were beaten and thrown out of [the] counting centers. It was in response to this that large numbers of youth crossed over to Pakistan and were trained and armed (p. 25). According to him, “though Pakistan trained and armed the young Kashmiris who had crossed over to garner support for their ‘freedom struggle’, the provocation arose primarily from India, not Pakistan” (p. 25). Also, according to the NCERT textbook, the insurgency is being controlled. The text reads: The initial period of popular support to militancy has now given way to the urge for peace. The Centre has started negotiations with various separatist groups. Instead of demanding a separate nation, most of the separatists in dialogue are trying to re-negotiate a relationship of the State with India. (NCERT, 2015, p. 158)

Narratives, Violence and Consent  113 The narrative makes no mention of the plebiscite. Thus, imbibing the message that Kashmir is now part of India. With the recent change in the status of J&K, the section on Article 370 has been removed from the NCERT textbooks. In the updated textbooks, J&K has been integrated into the Indian union. With this, the state seems to complete the task of dismissing the historical fact of it being a “disputed territory”.16 Kashmir is, thus, a conflict of narratives. It is, however, the state narrative that shapes the popular discourse and which is circulated through the mainstream media. Manufacturing Consent for Violence: Media and Kashmir Media is regarded to be the fourth pillar of democracy. However, this has often proved to be far from reality. The media has not been neutral. Reddy (2006) has explored the role of media in the agenda-setting process. He demonstrates how media can play a passive or even an activist role to push a certain agenda and shape policy and public interest (Reddy, 2006, p. 299). This power of the media to influence or to “manufacture consent” has been theorised by Herman and Chomsky (1988). The propaganda model of Herman and Chomsky (1988) uncovers the undemocratic face of the media. Set in the American context, their work established the nexus between media, corporate class and the state. India does not present an exception in this sphere as well. The leaked report of the Press Council of India, titled “‘Paid News’: How corruption in the Indian media undermines democracy”, reveals the nexus between media and political groups as it demonstrates how media was used by various political parties and electoral candidates to further their interests (Mathew, 2016, p. 103). The need for revenue, notes Mathew (2016) and Banerjee (2008), makes this relationship between media and political groups to be a mutually beneficial one. Prabhash (2005) also argues that media often reflects the views of the dominant groups and that it is used to shape public opinion. Prabhash focuses on the way the media shapes public perception about marginalised groups and their struggle for rights. He shows that the media presents protests in a particular manner. It tends to highlight violent protests, shaping the public mindset that protests are violent and wrong. This, in turn, helps reproduce the legitimacy of the establishment (Prabhash, 2005, p. 56). According to him, this selective reportage is done for news value or for increasing the Television Rating Point (TRP) of their news channels. He also attributes the selective reportage and interpretation to the social background and the resulting cultural assumption of the journalists (Prabhash, 2005, p. 55). The relationship between media and political power is also defined by the norm of state censorship. Abraham (2012) has explored the symbiotic and robust relationship between the media and government in the name of “national security”. While Abraham’s study was based in the context of

114  Devika Mittal international relations, the argument of “national security” and the factors mentioned above also holds for the case of media in conflict zones. There is much control over the media coverage of J&K. The mainstream media attributes the violence in J&K solely to the armed insurgents. There is significantly less reporting about violence by security forces. Those few reports also tend to cover up or justify the violence. The analysis of the media reportage of the 1996 poll elections by Navlakha et al. (1996) provides one such example. Their study demonstrates how the mainstream Indian media presents a state-manufactured narrative of events. They write: In some of the border areas, particularly in Baramula and Kupwara even those who were not on the voters’ list were forced to go to the polling booths on election day. The army or other security forces had set up parallel booths near the official polling stations where the non-voters were made to line up and receive a ‘No-vote’ rubber stamp on their forearm after verification from a member of the security forces. (p. 1927) The Indian media, however, did not cover the elections with objectivity. While they initially did publish news reports about the use of force by the security forces, eventually they carried reports that praised the administration and the security forces for holding a “peaceful” election, contradicting their own statement and dismissing any charge of violence. Further, Navlakha et al. (1996) note, “they declared it as the beginning of the democratic process in Kashmir and the people’s rejection of militancy and Pakistan” (p. 1927). They even refer to some of the editorials which also underplayed the use of force and regarded the actual process of voting to be “fair” (Navlakha et al., 1996, p. 1927). As for the local media, a strike was being observed by them in protest of the government’s direction to not carry any statement, release or interview of the opposition party and militant groups. There was also strict state censorship of the local newspapers (Navlakha et al., 1996, p. 1928). The local media does face strict censorship. In 2016, the state imposed a “media blackout” after the encounter of Kashmiri leader Burhan Wani.17 J&K has been a dangerous place for the journalists. The journalists face opposition from both the police and security forces and militant groups.18 Writing about what it means to be a local journalist, Kanjwal et al. (2018) report: When working to document the (Indian) occupation as a photographer, the threat to one’s self and family members is a crucial point of concern…each photograph is both a protest in and of itself and simultaneously, a documentation of a particular form of protest, be it one of resistance or resilience. (p. 86)

Narratives, Violence and Consent  115 Post–5 August 2019, the media censorship has further increased. The curfew entailed a total blackout of communication. After 167 days of suspension of internet, internet services were restored in certain parts of the territory, but the access was restricted to a total of 153 websites. These websites were related to services and entertainment. Social media websites remained to be blocked.19 In October 2019, journalists in Srinagar staged a sit-in protest against the communication blockade and restrictions on the media. Holding placards that read, “Journalism is not a crime” or “We are journalists not mouthpieces”, they also highlighted the detaining and torture of journalists by security forces.20 Since August 2019, several journalists have been detained and harassed.21 Following from the above discussion, it should not be surprising to note that the news about these journalists and the protest against restricted media coverage did not find much space in mainstream media, both print and electronic. In fact, the mainstream media was an essential means for the state to claim normalcy after the abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A. Most of the mainstream Indian newspapers welcomed the abrogation of the Articles 370 and 35A. They reproduced the government’s argument that linked the abrogation with development, claiming that the legal impediments to development will be removed, with no critical or objective commentary. A news report of Republic Bharat, a popular news channel, praised the decision and painted it to be a decision that was long awaited, just and beneficial for Kashmiris. The report reads: There would be no permission required to set up industry and infrastructure if Article 370 is scrapped. Furthermore, in this case, the RPC [Jammu and Kashmir State Ranbir Penal Code] will be replaced by IPC [Indian Penal Code] and every amendment of the Constitution that will apply to the rest of India will automatically apply to Kashmir as well. Along with that, jobs and educational institutes would be open to everybody. The removal of the Article will also allow West Pakistan refugees, Dogras, Bakarwala and Kashmiri Pandits would have an equal stake in the state without any permissions.22 Likewise, the Economic Times report mentions that when the home minister announced the decision, some opposition parties protested, but it does not probe the reason. The report carries the word “bedlam” to capture the reaction of the opposing parties. This report, like other reports, also merely reiterates the government’s argument. While it does not mention about the claim of development, it carries the home minister’s statement that seeks legitimacy by claiming that this decision is based on the demand and aspiration of local population, referring to the people of Ladakh.23 On the first anniversary of the abrogation, the Indian Express carried an op-ed that reiterated the government’s claim linking the abrogation with development of the region. The

116  Devika Mittal article also dismissed the claim of opposition parties that the decision of abrogation was undemocratic.24 The initial news reports also depicted the ethnic groups besides the Kashmiri Muslims to have a homogeneous voice and claimed that they welcome abrogation. This is especially true for their reportage on Kashmiri Pandits. Following the rise of militancy in the 1990s, which had a strand that based itself on religious fundamentalism, the Kashmiri Pandits were attacked, and they were forced to flee from the valley and seek refuge in Jammu and other parts of the country. The Kashmiri Pandits feel that they were let down both by the Kashmiri Muslims and by the ruling government at the state and the centre level.25 However, the Kashmiri Pandits’ opinion about the claim for independence is not homogeneous. The news producers, however, do not exhibit this heterogeneity of views among the Kashmiri Pandits. Several mainstream Indian news channels, including Republic Bharat,26 The Hindu27 and NDTV28 claimed that the Kashmiri Pandits univocally welcomed the decision. A very few reports, such as one by The Quint, covered opinions of Kashmiri Pandits, who, like most Kashmiri Muslims, condemned the decision. The report refers to a petition signed by some Kashmiri Pandits, Dogras and Sikhs that stated that they “unequivocally condemn the abrogation of Article 370”, and have made a call for ‘an immediate lifting of the state of siege’ in the Valley”.29 A year later, several mainstream news portals reported that Kashmiri Pandits demand the restoration of Article 370.30 There was, however, no news debates or coverage in the electronic media. The mainstream media, as we note, is far from being objective. However, it feeds into the popular discourse. It shapes or reiterates the views of common Indians about Kashmir, its history and contemporary situation. “Kashmir” through the Eyes of an Indian How does an average Indian make sense of Kashmir and the conflict? We discussed the official narrative around the history and contemporary situation of Kashmir, which is circulated through the curriculum and the media. To understand how they may shape the perspective of average Indians, let us turn to the responses of a questionnaire. Separating the responses of people of J&K from the questionnaire, a total of 82 Indians shared their view. On the question of Kashmir being an “integral part of India”, 80.4% (66 people) of total responses were affirmative. One of them, a Delhi-based researcher, writes in capital letters, “It is by all standards, historically, legally and constitutionally an integral part of India.” Many other responses also link to the afore-mentioned textbook narrative. “Raja Hari Singh signed the instrument of accession. Also, when the Pashtun tribal militia attacked the people of Kashmir, definitely, the Kashmiri people wouldn’t had shown an inclination towards Pakistan”, writes a respondent. Another person writes,

Narratives, Violence and Consent  117 At the risk of sounding banal, I was always taught that Kashmir is a part of India. In school, as well as when I had the opportunity to travel to Kashmir as a child. I love that it is a part of India. Historically, Kashmir has been integral part of India that is Bharat. Great Hindus saints like Adi Shankaracharya developed the culture. Plus, in modern times, even after the partition when Pakistan invaded Kashmir and started genocide of Hindus in Mirpur, then Raja of J&K legally joined India without India’s pressure. This is acknowledged by the United Nations too Reasons another respondent. The eight respondents who disagree also base their argument on the textbook narrative. One of them writes, “Nehru (Jawaharlal) had promised to carry out the plebiscite which would determine the answer to this question, but it was never carried out. I believe the right to decide that lies (rather lay) with Kashmiris, not us.” The eight respondents who choose not to align with either of the extremes draw on the narratives’ ambiguity. A Delhi-based undergraduate student of journalism explicitly mentions the politics of media and hyper-nationalism that dismisses any alternative narrative. The response reads: I have been following the matter for the last three years. Whenever there has been any event against Kashmiris, people blame them for what they face. No one tries to look beyond the picture portrayed by hyper-nationalist media. Even in these situations, if one tries to stand with victims for the sake of human rights, they face the anger of proclaimed nationalists. The influence of the state-manufactured narrative around the conflict and its circulation through the media can be seen from the responses on a question around the challenges confronting J&K. Most of the respondents tend to focus solely on Islamic fundamentalism and militancy, which, according to them, also exists only because of funding by Pakistan. This is not to argue that there is no religious fundamentalism on the part of Kashmiri Muslims or that the claim of Pakistan support is incorrect. However, the lack of objectivity and denial of violence by the state and security forces makes a claim incomplete. As we had noted in the previous section, the media reporting is biased and only focuses on the violence by the armed insurgents. This explains the views of many respondents, including this one by a young student from Lucknow (Uttar Pradesh), who writes: People (in Kashmir) are being brainwashed into thinking that the Indian forces are kidnaping the missing men from their family. In some parts, the general public is being harassed too, and we need to bring justice to those people Anti-Indian and anti-Hindu propaganda by Pakistan.

118  Devika Mittal Given the fact that agrees that Kashmir is an integral part of India, one would expect that the question of the decision to abrogate Articles 370 and 35A will gather a similar percentage (80.4%) in the affirmative. The data, however, speaks differently. Out of 82 responses, only 54 people (65.8% of total responses) agree that the decision was correct. The responses may have been more varied, but this was restricted as the questionnaire did not give a third option, and so the respondents had to take a side. Some people who agree or who did eventually choose the option even if they were unsure register their dilemma. Many call out the state for what they thought was an “undemocratic” move. A Delhi-based researcher writes, “I am not against the law as much as I am against its implementation. Also, given the current government’s ideology, the intent becomes questionable.” The respondent is  referring to the ruling government’s ideology of Hindutva or Hindu Nationalism and sees this step to abrogate Articles 370 and 35A to be anti-Muslim. Most responses also tend to reiterate the claim of the government that the decision was taken to benefit the local people. An engineer from Kolkata (West Bengal) opines, “(There would be) increase in chance of investment development and growth. Transparency will increase, and fundamental rights of people will be more likely to be followed.” A government employee from Agra (Uttar Pradesh) also saw the special status and constitution as an  impediment to implementation of progressive laws like the Right to Education act that guarantees free and compulsory education to all children aged 6 to 14 years of age, laws against caste discrimination and for female empowerment. There are four respondents who did not want to take an extreme side. One of them (a research scholar from Pune, Maharashtra), who eventually chose to “disagree”, writes Yes (to the decision), as there seemed no other way of changing the worsening situation, No for the way it had to be done, which is not what India should practice, and No for the kind of exploitation that’s likely to happen. However, I am sure that as people, especially women, they are better off within India than out of it as our models of development are far fairer than the other choices at present. The response reflects a deeper understanding of the conflict and the contemporary situation as it entails both politics and oppression by the government and by radical groups. Conclusion Exploring the Indian state’s xenophobic attitude towards Kashmiri sub-nationalism or their demand for the right to self-determination and how it attempts to curb it through state violence, the chapter focused on how the state manufactures consent from non-Kashmiri Indian citizens for the state violence. In its deliberation on the process, the chapter explored the knowledge production around the conflict.

Narratives, Violence and Consent  119 The chapter explored the state-manufactured narrative that dismissed the disputed status of J&K and regarded Kashmir to be an “integral part” of India. Its circulation was also examined. Focusing on the media reportage around specific incidents, the chapter demonstrated that through media narratives that underlie national security and national cohesion ideas, the Indian state shapes the idea of violence. It shapes what or whose violence can be termed as “violence”. The chapter argues that the Indian state invisibilises its xenophobic attitude and violence by manufacturing and circulating narratives that focus entirely on the violence of the “other” or seeks consent whenever state-sponsored violence is made visible through hyper-nationalist sentiments. Appendix: Questionnaire 1 What is your profession? 2 Mention your age. 3 What is your city name? (Kindly mention if you are Kashmiri.) 4 Mention your educational qualification. 5 Is Kashmir an integral part of India? • Yes • No • Not Sure 6 State the reason for your response to “Is Kashmir an integral part of India”. 7 List some problems of Jammu and Kashmir. 8 What/who hinders development in Kashmir? 9 Is there an adequate media coverage of Kashmir? • Yes • No 0 If you replied No, state the inadequacies and issues. 1 11 Do you think there is an unhindered freedom of press in Kashmir? 12 Do you support the abrogation of Article 370? • Yes • No 13 State the reason for your response to “Do you support the abrogation of Article 370”. 14 Mention your news sources for Kashmir. • Indian Mainstream Newspapers and TV channels like Republic, ABP, Times Now etc. • Local Newspapers/websites like Greater Kashmir, Rising Kashmir, Kashmir times etc.

120  Devika Mittal • International news sources like Aljazeera, BBC • Indian alternative media websites like The Print, The Wire, The Quint 15 Have you come across this photograph from J&K? If yes, please elaborate on what had happened? However, the picture was not explained to the respondents to understand the context in which they had seen this particular photo. The story behind this photo was presented differently by national, alternative and local media. Notes 1 This fact has been documented in many reports including the Human Rights Watch Report. which can be read at https://www.hrw.org/reports/2006/india0906/ 3.htm#_ftn80 2 The bare act of the Armed Forces (Jammu and Kashmir) Special Powers Act can be read at https://www.mha.gov.in/sites/default/files/The%20Armed%20Forces%20 %28Jammu%20and%20Kashmir%29%20Special%20Powers%20Act%2C %201990_0.pdf 3 The bare act of the law can be read at http://jkhome.nic.in/pdf/PSA0001.pdf 4 The al-jazeera report titled “Kashmir special status explained: What are Articles 370 and 35A?” gives a detailed explanation of the provisions of the two constitutional acts. The report can be read at https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2019/8/5/ kashmir-special-status-explained-what-are-articles-370-and-35a 5 A mainstream news portal explains the changes. Read https://www.indiatoday.in/ india-today-insight/story/how-kashmir-changed-on-august-5-1577706-201908-06 6 Refer to BBC report https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-49246434 7 Refer to the report by Scroll at https://scroll.in/article/968719/a-year-withouthigh-speed-internet-ravaged-health-education-entrepreneurship-in-kashmir 8 Refer to the BBC report “Article 370: The Indians celebrating Kashmir’s new status” https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-49250594 9 The bare act of the law can be read at https://www.mha.gov.in/sites/default/files/ The%20Armed%20Forces%20%28Jammu%20and%20Kashmir%29%20 Special%20Powers%20Act%2C%201990_0.pdf 10 The UN Kashmir report of 2019 mentions several fake encounter cases, rapes and  torture under AFSPA. The report can be accessed at https://www.ohchr. org/Documents/Countries/PK/KashmirUpdateReport_8July2019.pdf. Amnesty International has also released several reports. One such report can be accessed at https://www.amnesty.be/IMG/pdf/rapport_inde_kashmir.pdf 11 Read https://thewire.in/rights/26-years-after-kunan-poshpora-army-still-enjoysimmunity-for-sexual-violence 12 Following the Damini Gang Rape case of 2012 and the popular outrage against it, a committee known as the Justice Verma Committee was constituted to review the anti-rape law. 13 The Justice Verma Committee report can be read at https://www.prsindia.org/ uploads/media/Justice%20verma%20committee/js%20verma%20committe%20 report.pdf 14 The two-nation theory was developed by Choudhry Rahmat Ali in Cambridge in 1933 in a pamphlet titled “Now or Never; Are We to Live or Perish Forever?” and was later on taken forward by Muhammad Ali Jinnah (Das et al., 2022).

Narratives, Violence and Consent  121 15 The figures are mentioned in the news report titled “Kashmir: How Line of Control has changed in 70 years”, which can be accessed at https://www.indiatoday.in/ news-analysis/story/kashmir-how-line-of-control-has-changed-in-70-years-15791182019-08-09 16 For details, refer to the report in The Hindu. The report can be accessed at https:// www.thehindu.com/education/schools/ncert-adds-scrapping-of-article-370-dropsportion-on-jammu-and-kashmir-separatist-politics-in-its-class-12-textbookchapter/article32150875.ece 17 The details of the media blackout can be read at https://www.thequint.com/news/ india/kashmir-valley-under-media-blackout-govt-raids-printing-presses-burhanwani-newspapers (last accessed on 29 April 2021). 18 The article titled “Journalists in Kashmir Are Oppressed by Security Forces and Government”, written by Raqib Hameed Naik, cites examples that demonstrate the threat to local journalists. The article can be read at https://theglobepost. com/2018/01/25/kashmir-journalists-oppression/ (last accessed on 30 April 2021) 19 A detailed news report is available at https://www.news18.com/news/india/153websites-unblocked-in-parts-of-j-bank-govt-sites-on-list-social-media-still-off-radar2463585.html 20 For a detailed report of the protest, read https://www.thecitizen.in/index.php/en/ NewsDetail/index/9/17651/We-Are-Journalists-NOT-Mouthpieces-KashmiriPress-Protests-Valley-Siege (last accessed on 30 April 2021) 21 The report titled “2020 saw surge in ‘harassment’ of Kashmir journalists” mentions many cases of Kashmiri journalists who have been detained and harassed by security forces. Read https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/12/29/india-govtcrackdown-forces-kashmir-media-to-self-censor 22 The full report can be read at https://www.republicworld.com/india-news/generalnews/abrogation-of-article-370-for-jammu-and-kashmir-and-its-consequencesexplained.html 23 The Economic Times report can be read at https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/ news/politics-and-nation/article-370-to-be-abrogated-amit-shah-announces-inrajya-sabha/articleshow/70530972.cms 24 The op-ed titled “Abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A has created possibilities of development” can be read at https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/ jammu-kashmir-special-status-abrogation-august-article-370-6541354/ 25 A story by Kaveree Bamzai covers the many aspects of the exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits, including how the younger generation copes with the community memory. The story can be read at https://theprint.in/opinion/haider-to-shikara-whykashmiri-pandits-are-done-being-homeless-and-voiceless/354482/ 26 Republic Bharat carries a report about the celebration of this decision by Kashmiri Pandits residing in Australia. The report can be read at https://www.republicworld. com/amp/india-news/general-news/kashmiri-pandits-support-abrogation-of-article370-in-australia.html 27 Read The Hindu report titled “Kashmiri Pandits hail amendment of Article 370” at https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/kashmiri-pandits-hail-scrapping-ofarticle-370/article28824366.ece 28 The NDTV report titled “’Now We’ll Be Able To Return’: Kashmiri Pandits Over Article 370 Decision” can be read at https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/now-wellbe-able-to-return-kashmiri-pandits-over-article-370-decision-2080766 29 Read the detailed report at https://www.thequint.com/amp/story/news/india/ kashmiri-pandits-dogras-sikhs-condemn-abrogation-article-370-jammu-andkashmir 30 One such report carried by The Telegraph can be read at https://www.tribuneindia. com/news/j-k/restore-special-status-kashmiri-pandits-118887

122  Devika Mittal References Abraham, Rhea. 2012. Media and National Security. India: KW Publishers. Akinola, A. (2020). Xenophobia, the Media and the West African Integration Agenda. In D. Moyo and S. Mpofu (Eds.), Mediating Xenophobia in Africa (pp. 147–166). Palgrave MacMillan. Arakatoram, K. (2009). The Rise of Kashmiriyat: People-Building in 20th Century Kashmir. The Columbia Undergraduate Journal of South Asian Studies, 1(1), 26–50. Baer, Elizabeth R. (2017). The Genocidal Gaze: From German Southwest Africa to the Third Reich. Wayne State University Press. Banerjee, Sumanta. (2008). Media: Bashed from Outside and Flawed from Within. Economic and Political Weekly, 43(31), 10–12. Chenoy, K. (2006). Contending Nationalisms: Kashmir and the Prospects for Peace. Harvard International Review, 28(3), 24–27. Das, T. K., Bhattacharyya, R., and Sarma, P. (2022). Revisiting Geographies of Nationalism and National Identity in Bangladesh. Geojournal, 87, 1099–1120. doi:10.1007/s10708-020-10305-1 Feierstein, D. (2014). Genocide as Social Practice Reorganizing Society under the Nazis and Argentina’s Military Juntas. Rutgers University Press. Herman, E. S., and Chomsky, N. (1988). Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media. Pantheon Books. Kanjwal, H., Bhat, D., and Zahra, M. (2018). “Protest” Photography in Kashmir. Women’s Studies Quarterly, 46(3 & 4), 85–100. Karpinski, F., and Ruvinsky, E. (2016). Sexual Violence in the Nazi Genocide: Gender, Law, and Ideology. In Ugur Umit Ungor (Ed.), Genocide: New Perspectives on its Causes, Courses and Consequences (pp. 149–176). Amsterdam University Press. Mahmud, E. (2006). Status of AJK in Political Milieu. Policy Perspectives, 3(2), 105–123. Mann, M. (2005). The Dark Side of Democracy: Explaining Ethnic Cleansing. Cambridge University Press. Mathew, S. (2016). Paid News and Media Industry: Dynamics and Status. Amity Journal of Media and Communication Studies, 6(1), 101–106. Navlakha, G., Manchanda, R., and Bose, T. (1996). Political Situation in Kashmir: Duped by Media and Government. Economic and Political Weekly, 31(29), 1927–1931. NCERT. (2015). Politics in India Since Independence: Textbook in Political Science for Class XII. Noorani, A. G. (2003). Kashmir and India’s Judiciary. Economic and Political Weekly, 38(48), 5014–5015. Oncioiu, D. (2016). Ethnic Nationalism and Genocide Constructing “the Other” in Romania and Serbia. In Ugur Umit Ungor (Ed.), Genocide: New Perspectives on its Causes, Courses and Consequences (pp. 22–48). Amsterdam University Press. Prabhash, J. (2005). Mediated Rights: Media, Women and Human Rights in India. The Indian Journal of Political Science, 66(1), 53–74. Reddy, G. (2006). Media and Public Policy. The Indian Journal of Political Science, 67(2), 295–302. Sebastian, P. (1996). Kashmir behind the Propaganda Curtain. Economic and Political Weekly, 31(6), 319–321.

Narratives, Violence and Consent  123 Weber, Max. (1946). Politics as a Vocation. In H. Garth and C. W. Mills (Eds.), Essays in Sociology (pp. 26–45). Macmillian. Zaidi, S. (2003). The Intractable Kashmir Issue: Search for a Rational Solution. Pakistan Horizon, 56(2), 53–85. Zutschi, Chitralekha. (2009). India, Pakistan, and the Kashmir Issue 1947 and Beyond. Asian Intercultural Contacts, 14(2), 8–13.

6 Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide? Framing and Naming the Anti-Sikh Violence of Delhi 1984 Silvia Tieri The selection of a form and level of explanation for riots and pogroms, a context in which to place the discourses of violence – for scholars as well as journalists and politicians – is a serious political act. (Brass, 1996a, p. 6) Naming the violence does not reflect semantic struggles alone…the act of naming constitutes a performative utterance. (Das, 2007, p. 206)

The still-short history of post-colonial India is marked by many shocking instances of violence, and 1984 accounts to one of the worst cases of public violence, collective violence, violence against a religious minority, and specifically anti-Sikh violence. From 31 October to 4 November, in the aftermath of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s assassination at the hands of her Sikh bodyguards, widespread and largely systematic attacks targeted at Sikhs took place in various cities of India, especially New Delhi. Many details are yet to be uncovered, and stories to be told; perpetrators have escaped condemnation, and victims still long for justice. However, the facts of 1984 are largely known. It has been established that except for a few initial cases of harassment, beating, and arson imputable to individuals who were angered by Gandhi’s assassination, the violence against Sikhs was largely organised by some politicians of the Congress Party and implemented with the connivance of the police, resulting in the murder of at least 3,000 Sikhs in Delhi only (the victims’ numbers are still contested), long-term devastation of families, and significant destruction of property. The memories of the November 1984 violence are kept alive both in the country and abroad: Delhi 1984 resurfaces in the news on its anniversaries when Indians – people, civilian associations, NGOs, and religious groups – gather on the streets of the Indian capital to remind the state of its many unresolved legacies. On the same anniversaries, as well as on other public events associated with the Indian government abroad, 1984 calls for memory and justice also in the strongholds of the Sikh diaspora. On the streets of London, DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-6

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  125 Vancouver, and other cities, the violence of 1984 is retold through Englishwritten banners that often reclaim the name of “genocide” for it, hence gaining visibility beyond the city and the country that was violence’s actual theatre. After decades, while the Sikh diaspora keeps growing wealthier, more numerous, and politically visible, 1984 remains a painful and urgent issue for large sections of it, thus continuing to work as a fulcrum in the articulation of diasporic Sikhs’ relation with their ancestral and their current homes. Having circulated through different narratives, its history has been necessarily sown also into political ones, becoming an instrumental argument for agendas as different as Hindu nationalism and Sikh separatism. The 1984 anti-Sikh violence, and precisely the issue of its framing and recognition, came to be inextricably linked to questions of state violence and minorities’ status in India, first of all Sikhs’. When the violence took place, it was portrayed as a retaliation against Sikhs for Indira Gandhi’s assassination, which in turn had been a retaliation for the attack she had ordered in June against the Sikh militants who had made Harmandir Sahib in Amritsar, Punjab, their bastion. This military operation (known as Operation Bluestar), in turn, had come as the dramatic culmination of an extended confrontation between the centralising Gandhi government in New Delhi and the Punjab-based militants headed by a Sikh preacher, Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale, who had initially received support from the Congress but eventually turned against it.1 This confrontation had generated convulsion in the Sikh-majority state of Punjab. As the movement took a clear secessionist turn, militants would use the November 1984 violence to exemplify the vulnerability of Sikhs as an Indian minority and justify the necessity of a separate homeland for their security and self-determination: Khalistan.2 Because members of the ruling party were found to be directly and indirectly implicated in its organisation, the anti-Sikh violence compromised the democratic and secular outlook of the Indian state and the reputation of the Congress Party in particular. Its aftermath added to the shame. The appointment of three commissions, eight committees, and two special investigation teams proved insufficient to conclusively convict the criminals responsible for it.3 For example, Congress politician and MP Sajjan Kumar was sentenced to life imprisonment as late as December 2018. This has made it possible for the Bharata Janata Party (BJP) to draw attention to 1984 and its delayed justice process for capitalising electorally against the Congress.4 The attempt of the BJP to extract political gains from the crimes of 1984 is bitterly ironic, as members of this party too are implicated in grave instances of planned religion-based violence against Muslims, including in Ayodhya in 1992,5 Gujarat in 2002,6 and Delhi in 2020.7 From the point of view of this chapter, the instrumentalisation of 1984 in larger political agendas makes the question of its names and narratives appear even more relevant. Indeed, what justifies the inclusion of a discussion on the 1984 Delhi antiSikh violence into this volume is not the extent to which it is known but rather its “unsettled” status.

126  Silvia Tieri As instances of violence attain a place in history books and collective memory, they mostly get crystallised into a specific nomenclature. For example, when we talk about the mass murder of the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire during World War I, we call it “the Armenian genocide”. “Genocide” is also used, rather uncontrovertibly, to indicate the violence targeting the Tutsis during the Rwandan Civil War. The Kristallnacht of 1938 is recalled as  a pogrom due to its anti-Jew character as well as state’s connivance in its  implementation. Inter-ethnic and sectarian violence in disintegrating Yugoslavia in the 1990s is usually referred to as ethnic cleansing (although some have challenged the notion that ethnic cleansing is any different from genocide),8 and so forth. This, however, is not the case for 1984. “Genocide” is used, and increasingly so, especially by groups in the Sikh diaspora.9 Its supporters include (but are not limited to) groups favouring separate Sikh statehood. But “genocide” is just one among the many terms used by politicians as well as journalists, academics, and people in general to give the 1984 anti-Sikh violence a name. A quick look at the writings produced on it, or a Google search for that matter, suffices to populate a rather long list of names, including “massacre”, “carnage”, “bloodshed”, “pogrom”, the mentioned “genocide”, and (the most frequent) “riots”. Besides, while one is more general and the other rather specific, both “violence” and “riots” are often qualified with the adjective “communal”, thus producing “communal violence” and “communal riots” as additional names. Here, I have used “anti-Sikh violence” so far because it seemed the most general of the lot (although there is hardly any neutral name, as I shall note in a moment). Events’ frequent crystallisation into specific nomenclatures does not imply that each historical instance of violence finds its incontrovertibly appropriate definition in a single term and it shall be referred only by such term. While, as mentioned, in most cases the given name of the event soon becomes standard, in other cases the task of naming is less straightforward. The debate around what is traditionally known as the “Sepoy Mutiny” of 1857 proves a case in point. As “mutiny” implies a reversal of a military order posed as legitimate, critics of that order – a colonial one – argued that the event was an “insurrection”, a “revolt”, or “war of independence” instead. Clearly, there is impressive performativity in violence’s names. This poses the question: What is the right name for each specific instance of violence? Calling a “war” a “massacre” might seem obviously wrong because if an instance of violence can qualify as a “war” it is far more extensive than what the name “massacre” suggests. But the tricky issue with naming is that it is not just a question of not under/overestimating violence’s material scale and duration; as the 1857 “mutiny” case shows, naming violence also poses the problem of capturing its intents and effects. But according to whom? The mutineers or the army? The task of establishing intents and consequences of violence is more complex than the already-complex one of gauging supposedly more “objective” aspects like its spatial, temporal extension, and number of casualties. Intent and effect introduce a level of

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  127 subjectivity into the definition, since both expected and actual results of violence can appear profoundly different when considered from the perspectives of the opposing parties involved in it. In his now-classic Riots and Pogroms, Brass (1996) convincingly argues that naming violence is a political act. From this, I infer that not-naming is equally political, that no name can achieve neutrality, and that each name tells a story. Brass maintains that after violence materialises, another “struggle” takes place “to gain control over the right to interpret it” (Brass, 1996, p. ix): This conflict encompasses their [riots and pogroms] labelling, the making of judgments concerning their causes, the determination of the social composition and motives of rioters and “pogromists,” the degree of organization and/or spontaneity involved in riots and pogroms, the reasons why members of particular groups are selected for violent assaults, and the degree of implication in them of the state and its agents. (p. ix) Thus, each of the names used to frame the 1984 violence implies judgements about one or more of the following: the size of violence, its causes, the identity of perpetrators and victims, but also its intents and – I may add – its effects. In all, each name is a narrative of it. This chapter considers the narratives coagulated in the names which have been given to Delhi 1984 – genocide, riot, pogrom, communal violence/riot – to argue that, although “genocide” is not as suited as “pogrom” to describe the intent and implementation of the perpetrators’ violence, it carries a psychological and political value that requires acknowledgement, as it connotes violence’s meaning as experienced and seen by many Sikhs. Perpetrators and Intent Inflicting violence on the Sikhs was expected to benefit the Congress Party’s performance in the then upcoming elections; to galvanise Hindu voters in a moment of national consternation and anxiety;10 to consolidate the image of the Congress government as the defender of the nation’s unity against the supposed threat represented by the Sikh, of which Gandhi’s murder had come as the latest and most shocking illustration (Brass, 1996a, pp. 35–36; Rao et al., 1985, p. xi; Van Dyke, 1996, p. 203). Report to the Nation soon identified “a number of unscrupulous politicians who are habitually associated with anti-social elements and down-right criminals” (Rao et al., 1985, p. iv). According to Van Dyke, although top Congress leaders did not order the killings, these were “organized for the government by forces which the government itself had created” (Van Dyke, 1996, p. 206). However, many interpreted Rajiv Gandhi’s notorious comment

128  Silvia Tieri on his mother Indira’s death – that “when a big tree falls, the earth shakes” – as an implicit justification of the violence from his side.11 Perpetrators were mobilised, armed, instructed, and transported by local Congress leaders, directly or through local gangsters (Kishwar, 1984, pp. 15, 20, 23; Tambiah, 1997, p. 1176; Van Dyke, 1996, pp. 202–207). They were allocated to various points of attack identified by “Congress Party officials carrying voter lists, ration cards and school registers… marking them with paint Nazi style prior to the arrival of the crowds” (Van Dyke, 1996, p. 207). In the resettlement colonies created during Gandhi’s Emergency and controlled by the Congress,12 the violence saw a significant participation of backward castes from the urban villages and scheduled castes13 who supported the government party (“Who Are the Guilty?” 1984). In many cases, mobs were brought into the targeted neighbourhood from outside. But in other cases, they were not. The women survivors interviewed by Chakravarti testified, “The killers are from here. It’s all lies that they were outsiders” (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2723). Indeed, in a desperate attempt to save their men’s lives, they had “attempted to remind the killers of the codes and ties of mohallas”. Having been directly involved in relief work, Das reconstructed the facts of Sultanpuri, where some of the ghastliest violence took place. In this resettlement colony, the attack by neighbours-perpetrators on the Sikh victims revealed a previous caste conflict between Chamars and Sikligar Sikhs, which merged into the broader context of widespread antiSikh violence in retaliation to Gandhi’s murder. Das demonstrates that while the discourse on violence was framed in terms of religious affiliations, i.e. Hindus against Sikhs, the “actualization of the violence… shows how sectarian affiliations were broken by caste differences and divided into fractions of ‘working classes’” (Das, 2007, pp. 148–149). Thus, there were cases in which the notion of “settling scores” with the Sikhs as a community for their supposed sins against the nation emboldened some to settle scores that were personal ones instead. The episodes of violence were distinct from one another as much as characterised by common patterns. Victims and Effects In the first place, people became victims14 because of their religious identity: “Whether they followed the Sikh religion or not, their cultural affiliation to Sikhism was clearly the overwhelming cause of the killings, and so, unsurprisingly, the survivors spent a long time in defining their relationship with the religion” (Chaudhry, 2019, p. 10). Broadly speaking, it appeared that Sikhs were attacked in retaliation to Gandhi’s assassination at the hands of her Sikh bodyguards. This implies that her assassins had been identified as Sikh individuals, and their blame transferred to the Sikh community as a whole. Such transfer of blame, however, is not logically obvious. Indeed, indiscriminate anti-Sikh violence as an “act of legitimate vengeance” remained “inexplicable” (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2723) to those

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  129 who experienced it. Victims were ordinary citizens who not only had nothing to do with the assassination, but in many cases, as shocked as other Indians, were fasting to mourn Gandhi’s demise, or “belonged to a family which had respected and supported the Congress Party in the past” (p. 2724; Kishwar, 1984, pp. 11, 14, 19). The actions and intentions of two individuals were projected as the will of a whole group (“the Sikhs”) not just because the motive of Gandhi’s bodyguards had been a “religious” one, that is, to seek revenge for the Indian Army’s attack on Harmandir Sahib; what made the scapegoating of the Sikhs appear viable was its larger context, i.e. Punjab’s prolonged instability which had worsened relations between Hindus and Sikhs.15 Until then, there had been no history of sectarian violence16 between the two communities, and many conceived the Sikh and Hindu identities as reciprocally fluid (which is the case still today for some). However, the enduring “Punjab problem” with which the central government had been grappling for years had produced discourses that interposed sharper boundaries between the Hindu and the Sikh, and often represented the latter as deviant. Gandhi’s assassination came not only in the aftermath of a military operation that had hurt the sentiment of the Sikh panth,17 including its most liberal and nationalist sections that had no sympathies for the militants. It also occurred on the backdrop of a prolonged otherisation of the Punjabi Sikh as anti-national and anti-Hindu. It was within this context that “khun ka badla khun se lenge” could come to logically mean “to exact revenge through Sikh blood”.18 These contextual events – Punjab’s instability and the otherisation of the Sikh – provided the reason for the anti-Sikh violence to be sewn into an ongoing political narrative (Sikhs as anti-national) and hence to acquire a potential weight in the political game. As is often the case with instances of public group violence scapegoating an ethno-religious minority, violence was preceded and accompanied throughout by rumours.19 The rumours included that the Sikhs were rejoicing at Gandhi’s death, amassing weapons, poisoning Delhi’s water supplies, and killing Hindus on trains coming from Punjab (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2723; Das, 2007, pp. 109–110; Jeffrey, 1986, p. 12; Kishwar, 1984, pp. 18, 23, 24; Mitta & Phoolka, 2008, p. 210; Rao et al., 1985, pp. x–xi; “Who Are the Guilty?” 1984, p. 1979) and that Rajiv Gandhi, who was soon sworn as prime minister, wanted his mother’s death avenged (Brass, 1996a, p. 24).20 The rumours provided the casus belli to activate latent hostility where the notions of the Sikh as a threatening other had already been formed and consolidated on the backdrop of Punjab’s upheavals. Historically, Sikhs were not perceived as a “problem minority”. Indeed, this was the first case of widespread violence perpetrated by the majority against the Sikhs, whose belonging and compatibility with mainstream India had not been questioned until the rise of militancy in Punjab. The violence, however, was not indiscriminately sectarian in the sense that it did not target all people identifiable as Sikhs, or at least it did not do so

130  Silvia Tieri with the same intensity and viciousness. Instead, perpetrators appeared to discriminate among victims, in the first place based on gender. They seemed to act based on a “‘code’ of killing” for which “it was adult men who were the ‘proper’ targets of the attack” (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2725), although this obviously did not imply that women and children were spared. Victims were primarily “Sikh males in the age group 20–50”, as soon concluded by the now-famous report Who Are the Guilty?, released immediately after the events by a civilian committee of inquiry (“Who Are the Guilty?” 1984, p. 1979).21 That mobs and gangs targeted Sikh males was evident from the patterns according to which they attacked (Mukhopadhyay, 2015, pp. 79, 80, 141). Who are the Guilty reported that these were discernible both in the heart of the city and in resettlement colonies: The targets were primarily young Sikhs. They were dragged out, beaten up and then burnt alive [emphasis added]. While old men, women and children were generally allowed to escape, their houses were set on fire after the looting of valuables. Documents pertaining to their legal possession of the houses were also burnt. (“Who Are the Guilty?,” 1984, p. 1979) These patterns proved the attacks’ organised nature and their common matrix. They also showed the intention to inflict violence in a punitive, exemplary, visible fashion, aimed at “teaching Sikhs a lesson”(Das, 2007, p. 124; Mitta & Phoolka, 2008, p. 74) and “‘settle’ scores” (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2723): “In all affected spots, a calculated attempt to terrorise the people was evident in the common tendency among the assailants to burn alive the Sikhs on public roads [emphasis added]” (“Who Are the Guilty?” 1984, p. 1979). Patriarchal societies acknowledge men as providers, decision-makers, and defenders. The targeting of males can be interpreted as robbing the Sikh victims of all immediate and future security, since it accounted to eliminating a family’s source of income, as well as possible retaliations (Kishwar, pp. 13–15; Van Dyke, 1996, p. 208). The elimination of men as sources of security and the violation of the household resonate in the memories of an old Sikh man whom Tarlo met in Welcome, a trans-Yamuna resettlement colony: “Tell me, how can someone loot a house when the head of the family [emphasis added] is sitting right there inside it? But this is exactly what happened here in Welcome” (Tarlo, 2000, p. 66). Similarly, a woman survivor had told Chakravarti: We thought that they might be attacking Sardars on the streets but how could we think they would come into people’s houses and attack them?… In our whole lives we could never imagine that people could go into other’s houses and kill them there. (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2722)

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  131 The gendered nature of violence altered the order of the home as a typically gendered space. Saluja’s interviews with survivors documented that “The men were forced to stay indoors due to the imminent danger to their lives, with women acting as a link to the outside world” (Saluja, 2015, p. 347). For Das (2007), the targeting of males, hence the gendered nature of violence, finds an explanation in Hindus’ sense of insecurity vis-à-vis the demonised Sikh man. Das points out that the violence of November 1984 was gendered in a way that sets it apart from Partition as a previous case of largescale violence between religious communities. Feminist scholarship has documented how, in 1947, women were persecuted with peculiar vehemence by means of rape, gang rape, kidnappings, tattooing, mutilations, forced marriages, honour killings and honour suicides (Butalia, 1997; Menon & Bhasin, 2011). Gendered violence was inflicted on women not just by the “other” men and own male kins (also helped by women) but also by the policies of the nation-state for the restitution and rehabilitation of women (Das, 1997, Chapter 3; Menon & Bhasin, 1993). A traditional repository of communities’ honour, the female body during Partition emerged as a primary field for the humiliation of the enemy and the affirmation of the self; this included the  demarcation of boundaries circumscribing the new nation; hence, the female body was also “territorialised” (Abraham, 2014, pp. 38–43). By contrast, in 1984, “the dominant themes were those of humiliation of men [emphasis added]. Women were not attacked, though there might have been isolated cases of rape” (Das, 2007, p. 13).22 Das suggests that the 1984 violence against Sikhs was gendered not just because it killed men primarily, but because it did so for “regaining a lost masculinity on the part of Hindus”, earlier lost to the hyper-masculine Sikh male embodied by the defiant militant (pp. 110–114). Indeed, violence against Sikh men as “an instance of their emasculation” possibly explains male survivors’ silence around it (Saluja, 2015, p. 357). According to Mukhopadhyay, the frequent use of arson to inflict deadly violence on the victims connoted a clear emasculating purpose: Interestingly, the common weapon of destruction was neither a dragger nor a sword, used previously in episodes of mass violence in the sub-continent. This death by fire method was in fact a re-enactment of a grotesque sub-plot, a typical Delhi-creation of the late 1970s and early 1980s – which by 1984 was commonly referred to as “bride-burning”. (Mukhopadhyay, 2015, p. 77) Another point needs to be noticed about the 1984 violence being sectarian (anti-Sikh) and gendered (targeting men). In many cases, arsonists were directed to target Sikh houses and shops by local gang leaders or police officers connected to the Congress Party who already knew that the family or the owners in question were Sikh. In other cases, men were caught outside their homes and workplaces because gangs happened to be on their way and

132  Silvia Tieri recognised them as “sardars”. This was possible because of the appearance of the Sikh male body.23 The visibility of gendered markers of Sikhi (men’s turban and beard) makes Sikh men stand out, and did so in unfortunate ways in 1984, thus allowing perpetrators to identify and assault people walking and driving on the streets, and riding public transport – as in the chilling incidents documented by Rao et al. (1985), Ghosh (2002), and Das (2007, pp. 124–125). This also allowed the violence to acquire a peculiar anti-Sikh connotation in its performance, as material markers of Sikhi often became its first targets: perpetrators violated the men as Sikh by tearing off their turban, pulling and cutting their hair, before beating them or setting them ablaze (Mukhopadhyay, 2015, pp. 76–79; Rao et al., 1985, pp. x, 2; Thapar, 1986). In a bid to save their lives, many men took the painful decision to cut their hair and shave their beards, a self-mutilation both physical and psychological. With time, when things returned “normal” and looking Sikh was not dangerous for life anymore, some regrew their hair and tied the turban again; others did not. Violence also caused a “mass exodus of the Sikhs from Delhi” (Mukhopadhyay, 2015, pp. 81, 121; Rao et al., 1985, p. xii). Violence did not end with the return to normalcy but had long-term consequences. Those who faced it and survived, primarily women and children who had lost their menfolk to murderers and mostly belonged to low-caste and low-class backgrounds, bore unspeakable psychological and material costs. In the aftermath of violence, they found themselves in precarious circumstances. The violation of their homes eliminated any sense of security (Chakravarti, 1994, p. 2722). Trust towards the state which they thought protected them was replaced by a sense of betrayal and the longing for Khalistan, imagined as an alternative and just homeland (2722). Left without husbands and fathers in a patriarchal system that demeans widowhood, women and children faced poverty and harassment, including widows’ forced remarriages (Arora, 2017, pp. 111– 138). Saluja pointed out that while survivors’ victimhood is emphasised, their agency is seldom acknowledged; in fact, many improved their lives with extreme resilience and hard work (Saluja, 2015). However, not everyone managed. State-assisted rehabilitation was slow, controversial, and inadequate. In 1985, women whose husbands had been killed were allocated housing by the government in a resettlement colony, Tilak Vihar. Arora documented the colony, better known as the “Widow Colony”, as “a place that engenders continual forms of structural violence” (Arora, 2020, p. 2), where unemployment, drug abuse, and the sheer concentration of survivors imposes on them, till date, “continuing confrontation of loss and trauma in their everyday lives” (2020, p. 15; 2017). Naming the 1984 Violence and Its Narratives Like in the case of 1984, “riots” and “pogrom” are often confused and keep being used almost interchangeably. However, they mean violence in different

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  133 ways. In Riots and Pogroms, Brass provides a classic definition, although it is also true that in many cases a distinction between the two is futile because instances of violence often feature elements of both (Brass, 1996a, pp. 32–34, 2003, p. 32; Ghassem-Fachandi, 2012, p. 9). “Riot” connotes violence as spontaneous and unorganised, involving two or more groups against each other. By contrast, in the case of 1984, various elements unmistakably pointed towards the organised nature of violence. A comparison of the various episodes of violence that occurred throughout the five days in Delhi and the rest of India highlighted that systematic murders started only on November 1, whereas Gandhi’s death had been announced on October 31. Hence, while the initial aggressions against Sikhs were sparse and possibly spontaneous (but not lethal), the murders began after being planned and ordered (Mitta & Phoolka, 2008, pp. 30, 43; Rao et al., 1985, pp. iv, ix, x, 1, 3). Additionally, they “began at approximately the same time all over Delhi” (Van Dyke, 1996, p. 207), and plans to attack Sikhs had been reportedly made even before Gandhi’s murder (Rao et al., 1985, p. x; Van Dyke, 1996, p. 213). Thus, at best, the definition of “riot” might apply to the initial attacks against Sikhs on the 31st; but certainly does not capture the timings and patterns of the persecution that extended over the next four days and killed Sikhs in thousands. In fact, the way murderous attacks against Sikhs were directed by politicians, managed by local goondas, and implemented by paid individuals sourced from marginal groups seems a perfect example of what Brass defines with an oxymoron “institutionalized riot system”, whereby, far from spontaneous and uncontrollable events as their naming would suggest, “riots” are a constitutive part of India’s political business (Brass, 1996a, p. 12).24 On the other hand, “pogrom” describes violence as a planned endeavour, a rather unilateral attack, directed towards a specific ethnic group and implemented with the direct or indirect participation of the state. Hence, pogrom appears best suited to define the anti-Sikh violence in 1984.25 Authorities’ connivance was most evident in the behaviour of the police, who was “either utterly indifferent or positively hostile to the Sikh” (Rao et al., 1985, p. iv). Also, evidence pointed towards the implication of those who controlled electricity supplies and trains (Thapar, 1986), and buses, and possessed information about people’s addresses, as illiterate mobs of outsiders would have not been able to identify houses and shops by themselves (Van Dyke, 1996, p. 207). The one-sidedness of the attack, hence the pogrom narrative, is further confirmed by the fact that there was no retaliation from the Sikhs but self-defence, and virtually all casualties were Sikh. Delhi 1984 is not the only “pogrom” turned “riot”. Many cases of violence involving ethno-religious groups in India are labelled as riots without much critical consideration. For example, this also seems to be the case for the latest attacks perpetrated by Hindu groups against working-class Muslim households in Northeast Delhi in February 2020.26 There is a general consensus over the fact that, like in 1984, specific buildings were pre-emptively

134  Silvia Tieri identified based on the religious identity of their occupants; and that Delhibased politicians, this time from the BJP party, were implicated. Yet, as it gets typically referred to as “the 2020 Delhi Riots”, this event is in the course of crystallisation as a riot, specifically a communal one. The word “riot” and the concept of violence it implies – that certain groups are suddenly taken by frenzy and resort to violence against each other – had wide currency in colonial law and historiography (Mehta, 2006). This might explain why, although often incorrect, it endures as a default name for ethnic and sectarian violence in contemporary India as well. Because violence was directed at the Sikhs as a religious community, many framed it first and foremost as a case of communal violence. Like “riot”, “communal” is another framework of colonial consolidation. Not coincidentally, as an adjective it often occurs in conjunction with the noun “riot”. However, defining 1984 as a communal riot appears problematic for various reasons. First, the concept of “communalism” can be ambiguous per se because it was developed based on the mistaken belief that religion is the fundamental cleavage shaping South Asian society. During colonialism, communalism got strengthened as a key lens to read and make Indian politics, serving the interest of both the colonial administration and sections of Indian society (Chandra, 2009). The colonial notion of religious community has been criticised as a Western-centric construct that largely misunderstood South Asian reality to produce structured policy-relevant knowledge about the colonised population. However, as the communal identities came to constitute the currency of the political economy of the Raj, Indians eventually adopted them into their worldview. Second, “communal” hardly applies to 1984 because hostility between Sikhs and Hindus, although worsened by the historical circumstances, was neither long-standing nor structural, differently from the Hindu-Muslim conflict around which the concept of communalism was modelled. Third, the notion of communal violence does not reflect the nature of 1984, which largely consisted of purposeful and engineered attacks. Communalism emphasises notions of atavistic passion and hatred, implying that violence is rooted in groups’ structural hostility against each other; hence, that violence is visceral, uncontrollable, and inescapable. For this reason, by ambiguously placing blame on “intercommunal strife”, naming violence as “communal” assists in concealing questions of agency and responsibility and those who benefit from it. On the other hand, “genocide” might seem applicable to the case of 1984 at first. As per the UN Genocide Convention (1948) definition, “genocide” exists when the “intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group” is pursued through any out of five acts.27 Two among these – “killing members of the group” and “causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group” – took place in 1984. Also, it is clear that these acts were inflicted on Sikhs as an ethno-religious group. The critical issue remains the determination of intent: “with the intent to destroy,

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  135 in whole or in part”. What does it mean to destroy; and on what scale a people’s destruction qualifies as genocide? While establishing what constitutes a “part” (“in whole or in part”) is not straightforward, there seems to be a consensus that destruction means structural elimination or extermination. This is where genocide appears to represent the facts of 1984 inadequately: there was no genocidal intent then because the killings were engineered for the sake of the Congress’s political gain, not for the fundamental eradication of the Sikhs. However, the name of genocide is reclaimed by many Sikh religious and political groups, including pro-Khalistan ones, as well as used by scholars who considered the events from a Sikh perspective. For example, according to Keppley Mahmood: Though some will find the analogy with Nazi Germany here too extreme, both the explicit targeting of amritdhari Sikhs as traitors following Operation Blue Star and the clear earmarking of Sikh residences and businesses in the post-assassination carnage speak to an incipient genocidal campaign. (Keppley Mahmood, 1996, p. 138) A better appreciation of the choice of the term “genocide” in this context is possible by considering how victims made sense of the violence and what effects violence had on them. Violence put under question their position within the Indian nation, and their future under the rule of the Indian state. State complicity in the killings betrayed them as citizens and “legitimised the victim’s emotional investment in an alternative watan: a different country which to many women, along with other survivors, made Khalistan almost a necessity” (Chakravarti, 1994, pp. 2723–2724); in addition to this, “the state following November 1984 was perceived by them as Hindu” (2726). Tarlo’s interlocutor in Welcome coagulated the notions of group persecution and mass expulsion from the homeland in one sentence, saying, “‘They had created a second Pakistan for us’” (Tarlo, 2000, p. 67). Also Saluja’s recent interviews with survivors showed that “most respondents emphasised that the 1984 violence marked a sudden sense of rupture in their consciousness” (Saluja, 2015, p. 346). All Sikhs felt attacked, and shared with survivors a status of victim vis-àvis the violence by virtue of its being religion- and group-based. Hence, this “sudden rupture in consciousness” was not limited to the people who physically encountered and survived violence in Delhi and in India, but involved many other Sikhs, including those in the diaspora. The killings of November were seen by many, both in India and abroad, as a continuation of the June attack on Harmandir Sahib by the Indian Army, thus giving “rise to the view among overseas Sikhs that the very existence of the Sikh panth was in danger” and triggering their involvement in the “politics of homeland” (Shani, 2002, p. 16).

136  Silvia Tieri The link drawn with the events of June is critical. The temple invasion’s traumatic nature (Gayer, 2000, pp. 19–21; Shani, 2010) and the shadows it cast on the relation between Sikhs and India can hardly be overestimated. Tatla defined this event in itself “an act of genocide” against Sikhs as a nation (Tatla, 1999, p. 28).28 More importantly, the state played the role of the perpetrator, like it would do the following November. The storming of the temple – its violation as the centre of Sikh spiritual and temporal power, the material destruction, the death of civilians in thousands – in Punjabi was called ghallughara (often translated into English as “massacre” or “holocaust”, but also “genocide”), a name previously given to two massacres inflicted on Sikhs as a minority by the Mughals (Tatla, 2006). In this way, November 1984 together with June 1984 got inscribed into the larger context of Sikh history – i.e., the history of the Sikhs as a nation – and read as yet another instance within a long persecution, whereby since their constitution as a defined group and a minority, the Sikhs had to struggle for survival against the threat of majoritarian states, of which the post-colonial “Hindu” state was the most recent embodiment (Singh, 2007). In sum, the anti-Sikh violence of November 1984 was made sense of as the latest manifestation of the Indian state’s genocidal intent against the Sikhs as a national group defined by a minority religion. Conclusions: 1984 as Genocide? The anti-Sikh violence that took place in Delhi in the early days of November 198429 is remembered as the first case of large-scale violence among religious communities after Partition, as one of the worst episodes of public violence, sectarian violence, and violence against a minority in the history of post-­ colonial democratic India, as well as, remarkably, the only case of collective violence targeted at Sikhs specifically. As witnesses, journalists, activists, and scholars progressively reconstructed its dynamics in greater detail, it appeared that violence included gendered, class, and caste dimensions which merged into a larger discourse of sectarian violence. According to such discourse, perpetrators embodying the nation’s majority turned against a minority that had supposedly become “anti-national”. These days of violence that shook Indian and Sikh consciousness have been named and keep being referred to in different ways. The narrative of 1984 as “riot” is easily contested by the evidence of violence’s organised and unilateral nature. By contrast, “pogrom” best captures these two elements – that violence was planned, and a specific group persecuted – as well as another key feature: the implication of state agencies. In sum, 1984 was not a Hindu-Sikh riot, but an anti-Sikh pogrom. Besides, the narrative of communalism intrinsic in “communal violence” or “communal riots” is to be similarly dismissed. “Genocide” too fails to describe the event’s scale and intents as precisely. There seems to be reason in interpreting the anti-Sikh violence as a shorttermed political tactic aimed at producing immediate electoral gains to the

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  137 advantage of the ruling party. Violence was designed to “teach Sikhs a lesson” and eventually consolidate the majority Hindu electorate’s confidence in the Congress government’s ability to preserve national unity against the formidable challenge of Sikh militancy, which had already produced an otherisation of the Sikhs in general. In other words, violence was a criminal demonstration that the central state remained strong and resolute, that Indians (Hindus) stood with it and confided in its power, and that none could dare put its position in jeopardy because its leader’s murder was soon “avenged”. It was a performance to boost the Congress Party’s position rather than an attempt to eliminate Sikhs from India or Delhi. While genocide defines – although with ambiguities – violence as aimed at exterminating a group as a whole or in part, those days of violence executed with elections in mind were designed with punitive and not genocidal intent. Hence, “pogrom”, and not genocide, appears the most appropriate word to describe violence as it was conceived and implemented by its perpetrators. However, for those who were at violence’s receiving hand, such intents often acquired a different meaning and produced other effects. November 1984 appeared a continuation of the invasion of Sikhs’ holiest shrine by the Indian Army, which had occurred five months earlier. In the eyes of many Sikhs, both events were made sense of as the latest instance in a long history of persecution of the Sikhs as a minority at the hands of India’s majoritarian state power. It is within this historical narrative that the reclamation of “genocide” to name the 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms advanced by some Sikh people, political groups, as well as scholars needs to be contextualised and understood. For many Sikhs, whether they experienced the violence directly or vicariously, 1984 came as a traumatic realisation that India was no safe place for them, and their existence in the country was in danger. Thus, although applying the notion of “genocide” is technically incorrect to frame these horrific crimes, it is necessary to understand and acknowledge the historical, psychological, and political meaning that calling 1984 a genocide carries for those who, through their bodies and/or their identities, became its victims. Notes 1 Harmandir Sahib, also known as Golden Temple, is the most important Sikh shrine and symbol of Sikh spiritual and temporal power. It is located in the city of Amritsar, in the North-Western state of Punjab. Punjab neighbours Delhi, and it is a Sikh-majority state since its territorial reorganisation of 1966. The Indian Army attacked Harmandir Sahib in June 1984 in a controversial military operation code-named “Bluestar” aimed at flushing out Sikh militants and their leader, Bhindranwale. In the morning of October 31, Prime Minister Gandhi was shot dead by two of her security guards, who were Sikh. For details on the rise of Bhindranwale, the involvement of the Congress in Sikh politics, and Operation Bluestar, see Jeffrey (1986) and Tully and Jacob (2011). 2 Khalistan, literally “land of the pure”, is the name given by some Sikh nationalists to a prospective Sikh state. Those supporting secession from India (Sikh separatists) understand Khalistan as an independent state. The idea of a territorial

138  Silvia Tieri homeland for Sikhs predates Indian independence. It was the main preoccupation of Sikh leadership since the late colonial period, especially when it became clear that the end of British rule would have come along with the partition of British India, which also meant the partition of the Punjab region, where Sikhism originated and most Sikhs lived. However, the movement for the creation of a Sikh state separate from India gained momentum in the 1980s, on the backdrop of prolonged violence between the Indian Army and Punjab-based Sikh militants. See Kudaisya and Tan (2004, Chapter 4) and Chatterjee (2019). 3 Marwah Commission (1984); Misra Commission (1985); Dhillon Committee (1985); Kapur-Mittal Committee (1987); Jain-Banerjee Committee (1987); Ahuja Committee (1987); Poti-Rosha Committee (1990); Jain-Aggarwal Committee (1990); Narula Committee (1993); Nanavati Commission (2000); Mathur Committee (2014); Central Government Special Investigation Team (2015); 2018 Supreme Court Special Investigation Team. 4 The BJP is an Indian Hindu nationalist party. It is the major political force in contemporary Indian politics along with the Congress Party. 5 In December 1992, mobs instigated by members of various Hindu nationalist groups destroyed the Babri Mosque of Ayodhya, in the Northern state of Uttar Pradesh. They considered the mosque to have been built on the land where the Hindu god Ram was born (Ram janam bhoomi). A Ram temple is currently under construction. For more details, see Van Der Veer (1987), Ludden (1996), and Meghwanshi (2020) among others. 6 In 2002, anti-Muslim pogroms took place in Gujarat, a state in Western India. Historically, Gujarat had been a major theatre for the development of Hindu nationalism. At the time of the pogroms, its chief minister was Narendra Modi, currently India’s prime minister (BJP). For more details, see Shani (O. Shani, 2007) and Ghassem-Fachandi (2012). 7 In February 2020, violence broke out in working-class neighbourhoods of New Delhi. This took place on the backdrop of the BJP’s defeat in the Delhi elections, won by the Aam Admi Party, and of widespread protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act recently approved by the BJP central government, a bill which many consider to be Islamophobic. The victims of the violence were mostly Muslim people, although also Hindu people and police officers were killed. The episode is often referred to as “the 2020 Delhi riots”; however, evidence points to the involvement of BJP politicians, police’s unresponsiveness, and targeted attacks against Muslim houses, shops, and houses of worship. For more details, see Human Rights Watch (2020), and newspaper reporting from February-March 2020. See also Varshney’s commentary (Varshney, 2020). 8 The notion that ethnic cleansing constitutes a typology of violence of its own has been contested by some. Instead, ethnic cleansing has been often understood as not significantly different from genocide. Differently from genocide, ethnic cleansing has not been codified as a crime in international law. For a detailed discussion of ethnic cleansing vis-à-vis genocide, see Lieberman (2010). 9 For example, in 2018, a Connecticut-based Sikh association got the governor of  the state to proclaim November 1 as “Sikh Genocide Remembrance Day” (Aherne, 2018). In 2020, the Canadian city of Surrey, home to a sizeable Sikh community, declared November 2020 as “1984 Sikh Genocide Remembrance Month” (Singh, 2020). In 2020, the Legislative Assembly of Ontario debated a Private Member’s bill proposing to proclaim the first seven days of November in each year as “Sikh Genocide Awareness Week” (Sikh Genocide Awareness Week Act, 2020). These examples of memorialisation of 1984 as a genocide are not meant as an exhaustive list. More initiatives have been similarly undertaken in the US, the UK, Canada, Australia, and India.

Communal Riot, Pogrom, or Genocide?  139 10 The following national elections of December 1984 resulted in a landslide victory for the Congress Party, and recorded a history-high turnout. 11 The comment was part of a speech Rajiv Gandhi gave in November 1984. 12 Between 1975 and 1977, certain civil rights sanctioned by the Constitution were temporarily suspended and power centralised, thus allowing Prime Minister Indira Gandhi to rule by decree. The period is known as “the Emergency”. For details, see Jaffrelot and Anil (2021). 13 Caste might be defined, although simplistically, as a central institution of Indian society whereby individuals belong by birth to an endogamic group (caste), traditionally characterised by hereditary professions and peculiar customs. Caste presents regional variations. Generally speaking, Brahmins or priests occupy the apex of the caste hierarchy, followed by bureaucrats and clerks, traders, cultivators, artisans, and menial workers in the inferior ranks. Dalits or scheduled castes, relegated to the very bottom, have been victims of the practice of untouchability, as their touch or sight is considered polluting for members of upper castes. Because it is hereditary, caste defies social mobility. Caste cuts across religious communities. It is still cause of grave discrimination and inequality. For details, see Jodhka (2012), Ambedkar (2014), Sarkar and Sarkar (2014), and Meghwanshi (2020) among others. 14 Brass points out that the term “victim” implies the idea of violence as chaotic, whereas “target” suggests it is organised and purposeful (Brass, 1996a, p. 84). However, in this case I use both “victim” and “target” (and “to target”) interchangeably. 15 Bhindranwale’s speeches often targeted Hindus. Also, in the early 1980s, Punjab was shaken by the murders of various public figures opposed to the militants, as well as of ordinary people. Some appeared to be cases of sectarian violence. However, the victims included Sikhs averse to the militants’ cause too. See Tully and Jacob (2011). This wave of violence had the effect of consolidating the image of the Sikh militant as a terrorist, and of Sikhs in general as pro-militants. 16 Understood here as physical violence. Arguably, a phenomenon like shuddhi could be otherwise seen as a form of violence. 17 The community of believers. “Literally, the word refers to a distinctive body of belief or the following of a particular religious leader. For Sikhs it simply means ‘the Sikh community’” (Singh, 2019). 18 “Khun ka badla khun se lenge” means “We will avenge blood with blood”. This slogan was reportedly shouted by crowds and could be heard while Gandhi’s lying in state was broadcasted on public television, thus contributing to spread a frenzied climate (Kishwar, 1984, pp. 19–20; Mitta and Phoolka, 2008, pp. 22, 98; Van Dyke, 1996, p. 209). 19 Jeffrey (1986) highlights transformations in information, communication technology, and mass media as relevant factors in Chapter 1 of his “What’s Happening to India?”. 20 Rajiv Gandhi took oath on October 31, on the same day of his mother’s assassination. 21 Who Are the Guilty also reported evidence of violence against children and women: “In some areas of Mangolpuri the team heard from the survivors that even children were not spared. The team also came across reports of gang-rape of women” (“Who Are the Guilty?” 1984, p. 1979). Also Kishwar documented rape (1984, pp. 11, 13, 14, 16) based on survivors’ interviews. Mitta and Phoolka (2008, p. 75) stress that rape was largely ignored in authorities’ dealing with the crimes of 1984, in terms of both investigations and consequent reparations. 22 See also previous footnote.

140  Silvia Tieri 23 In order to give Sikhs a clear group identity, the Sikh code of conduct came to include also external symbols of Sikhi, the “five Ks”, that visibly identify a person as Sikh. Out of these, turban and unshorn hair are the most visible. The turban is  compulsory for Sikh men, but not so for Sikh women. Similarly, long facial hair stand out on male bodies more than on female bodies. This makes turbaned bearded (keshdhari) men more easily identifiable as Sikh. As much as “keeping hair” is a religious norm, cutting one’s hair is considered a sin and Sikhs are supposed to refrain from it. However, Sikhism is a highly diverse cultural and religious tradition. Compliance with the 5 Ks, especially turban and hair, is a divisive issue. While some consider that only those who comply with the prescriptions are truly Sikh, others identify as Sikhs without necessarily complying with them fully, e.g. cutting their hair to various extents. For more details on turban, hair, and symbols, see the voices Amritdhārī, Keśadhārī, Sahajdhārī, Five Ks, Turban in Bowker (2003); see also Ahluwalia (2017) and Takhar (2017). 24 In The Production of Hindu-Muslim violence in contemporary India (Brass, 2003) and Forms of Collective Violence (Brass, 2006), Brass elaborates the concept of Institutionalised Riot System (IRS). He focuses on Hindu-Muslim “communal riots” instigated by Hindu-nationalist parties and groups, and in the first place aims at explaining their persistence. However, the conclusion he reaches are applicable to other cases as well, including the one discussed here. In particular, Brass argues that “riots” are planned; closely connected with political competition, especially elections; and that they involve different actors, each with a specific role, the local political leader often figuring as the instigator, and goondas as the implementers. 25 On the planned nature of the attack, it is worth recalling Tambiah’s (1997) observation: “Indeed, the Parliamentary announcement, in setting up the Official Misra Commission, unproblematically referred to the phenomenon as ‘incidents of organized violence’” (p. 1179). 26 See footnote above on the facts of Delhi, 2020. 27 For a detailed discussion of the definition of genocide, see Bhattacharyya (2024) in Chapter 1 of this volume. 28 See also Shani (G. Shani, 2010), which discusses 1984 as a cultural trauma and its memorialisation in the diaspora. 29 As mentioned above, the initial attacks that occurred on October 31 differed from those of the following days.

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142  Silvia Tieri Meghwanshi, B. (2020). I Could Not Be Hindu: The Story of a Dalit in the RSS. Navayana. Mehta, D. (2006). Documents and testimony: violence, witnessing and subjectivity in the Bombay Riots, 1992–1993. In R. Lardinois & M. Thapan (Eds.), Reading Pierre Bourdieu in a Dual Context: Essays from India and France (pp. 259–298). Routledge. Menon, R., & Bhasin, K. (1993). Recovery, rupture, resistance: Indian state and abduction of women during partition. Economic and Political Weekly, 28(17), 2–11. Menon, R., & Bhasin, K. (2011). Abducted women, the state and questions of honour: Three perspectives on the recovery operation in post-partition India. In K. Visweswaran (Ed.), Perspectives on Modern South Asia: A Reader in Culture, History, and Representation (pp. 119–133). John Wiley & Sons. Mitta, M., & Phoolka, H. S. (2008). When a Tree Shook Delhi: The 1984 Carnage and Its Aftermath. Roli Books. Mukhopadhyay, N. (2015). Sikhs: The Untold Agony of 1984. Tranquebar Press. Rao, A., Ghose, A., & Pancholi, N. D. (1985). Report to The Nation: Truth About Delhi Violence. Citizens For Democracy. Saluja, A. (2015). Engaging with women’s words and their silences: Mapping 1984 and its aftermath. Sikh Formations: Religion, Culture, Theory, 11(3), 343–365. https://doi.org/10.1080/17448727.2015.1102554 Sarkar, S., & Sarkar, T. (Eds.). (2014). Caste in Modern India. Permanent Black. Shani, G. (2002). The territorialization of identity: Sikh nationalism in the diaspora. Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism, 2(1), 11–19. Shani, G. (2010). The memorialization of Ghallughara: Trauma, nation and diaspora. Sikh Formations: Religion, Culture, Theory, 6(2), 177–192. https://doi.org/10.108 0/17448727.2010.530512 Shani, O. (2007). Communalism, Caste and Hindu Nationalism: The Violence in Gujrat. Cambridge University Press. Sikh Genocide Awareness Week Act (2020) (Gurratan Singh). https://www.ola.org/ sites/default/files/node-files/bill/document/pdf/2020/2020-02/b177_e.pdf Singh, G. (2020, November 7). Gurpreet Singh: Surrey proclaims 1984 Sikh Genocide remembrance month. The Georgia Straight. https://www.straight.com/news/ gurpreet-singh-surrey-proclaims-1984-sikh-genocide-remembrance-month Singh, Pashaura. (2019). Panth (“path” or ’way’). In A Dictionary of Sikh Studies. Oxford University Press. https://www.oxfordreference.com/display/10.1093/ acref/9780191831874.001.0001/acref-9780191831874;jsessionid=1E2B17BEF 6581D7D8EA81115CE611CCE Singh, Pritam. (2007). The political economy of the cycles of violence and nonviolence in the sikh struggle for identity and political power: Implications for Indian federalism. Third World Quarterly, 28(3), 555–570. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 01436590701192744 Takhar, O. K. (2017). Sects (Sikhism). In A.-P. S. Mandair (Ed.), Sikhism (Encyclopedia of Indian Religions) (pp. 391–398). Springer. Tambiah, S. J. (1997). Friends, neighbors, enemies, strangers: Aggressor and victim in civilian ethnic riots. Social Science and Medicine, 45(8), 1177–1188. Tarlo, E. (2000). Welcome to history: A resettlement colony in the making. In V. Dupont, E. Tarlo, & D. Vidal (Eds.), Delhi: Urban Space and Human Destinies (pp. 51–71). Manohar.

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7 Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide? Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma

Introduction Early in the morning of 01 January 2020, I received a tagged video in my (the first author) Facebook account, which included a new year message requesting the Assamese diaspora to develop the habit of speaking in Assamese in their respective residences (Sirodin Axomiya, 2019). The video made by my classmates (Mr Rrituraj Sharma and Mr Parthajeet Sarma) is commendable, demonstrating how the colloquial Assamese language has evolved or changed over time incorporating words of other languages, especially that of the English who ruled India for more than 200 years. Following this, they produced another video which was circulated near the time of Magh or Bhogali Bihu (harvest festival of Assam) (Sirodin Axomiya, 2020), this time challenging the viewers to speak in purely Assamese for one minute, simultaneously nominating three batchmates of ours. The idea of this video was to create a chain of nominations for pure Assamese speakers. While it is indiscernible to what extent the videos have been translated into reality, perhaps, it warrants qualitative methodology research; the question is why the need emerged for such videos. These videos were a form of protest against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act 2019, popularly known as CAA.1 Chapter 2 has shown how pre-­and post-­promulgation of CAA provoked hate and xenophobia between the Hindu and Muslim communities, generating anarchy and violence in Delhi (Chapter 3). With an amendment to the Citizenship Act 1955 (the Citizenship Act, 1955), the Citizenship Amendment Bill (CAB) was introduced first in the Lok Sabha (the lower House of the Parliament of India) on 19 July 2016. However, following vehement protestation and cavil from the public of North East India, left-­liberals, and political opposition, the Bill was referred to the Joint Parliamentary Committee (JPC) on 12 August 2016. Accordingly, the JPC submitted its report to the Parliament on 07 January 2019, which was passed by the Lok Sabha on 08 January 2019. However, the CAB could not be passed in the Rajya Sabha (upper house or house of the elders—constitutionally the Council of States) following the dissolution of the 16th Lok Sabha, and, therefore, the CAB lapsed. Nonetheless, with the onset of the fresh 2019 DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-7

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  145 Lok Sabha elections, CAB, inter alia reappeared as one of the salient issues in the election manifesto (Sankalpit Bharat-­ Sashakt Bharat, 2019) of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). Following the colossal mandate in favour of BJP’s return to power for the second consecutive term (Bhattacharyya and Pulla, 2019), the Union Cabinet reintroduced and cleared the CAB on 04 December 2019, pushing for its introduction in Parliament. Consequently, Mr Amit Shah, minister of home affairs, introduced the CAB in the 17th Lok Sabha on 09 December 2019 and passed smoothly in the Lok Sabha on 10 December 2019. Subsequently, Rajya Sabha passed it on 11 December 2019. Finally, the CAB received presidential assent on 12 December 2019, becoming the CAA. Notwithstanding the enactment of CAA, this escalated nationwide protests; the sheer savagery of the protest oscillated to peregrinate beyond the nation, reaching the diasporic Indian communities dwelling across the countries of both Global North and South. However, the consternation over CAA in North East India differs from that of the rest of India. It is indeed deeply rooted in British Colonialism. This chapter first revisits the history of Assam to demonstrate how xenophobia developed against (il)legal migrants from Bangladesh and the Bengali-­ speaking people since the time of the Bengal Presidency. Following this, it briefly discusses the language movement followed by Assam Agitation leading to Nellie Massacre. The penultimate section discusses the Assam Accord. The final section discusses whether Assam is heading towards a silent genocide. Revisiting History of Assam: An Overview Before revisiting the rich history of Assam, it remains paramount to mention that Assam is home to approximately 30 ethnic groups (indigenous tribal and other ethnic communities) having their ancestral languages and dwelling in the region for centuries—a potpourri of Tibeto-­ Burman, Indo-­ Aryan, Austroasiatic, and Tai populations (Firaque, 2020; Hazarika, 2018; Saikia, 2004; Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). The physical geography of Assam consists of the mighty Brahmaputra and the Barak (or the Surma) Valley, along with North Cachar Hills and Karbi Anglong. The Brahmaputra Valley, North Cachar Hills, and Karbi Anglong comprise the ethnic communities of Assam, predominantly alongside Bengali-­speaking communities. At the same time, Barak Valley is mainly dominated by Bengali-­speaking communities. As reported by the 2011 Census of India (n.d.), there has been a decline in the percentage of people speaking Assamese, Bodo, Santali, and Rabha. Medieval Assam was ruled by a powerful kingdom known as the Ahom Kingdom for nearly 600 years, from 1228 CE to 1826 CE (Figure 7.1) (read, Gogoi, 2023; Phukan, 2003; Saikia, 2004). The Ahom rule came to an end in the wake of the British annexation of Assam in 1826 following the signing of the Treaty of Yandabo on 24 February between “His Majesty and the East India Company and the Governor of Legaing Maha Min Hla Kyaw Htin, on

146  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma

Figure 7.1 Ahom Kingdom. Source: Reading literature—Phukan (2003); Gogoi (2023).

behalf of the king of Ava of the Kingdom of Burma” (Bhattacharyya, 2023, p. 9; Gogoi, 2023; Phukan, 2003). Following British annexation, Assam was incorporated as a part of the Bengal Presidency2 from 1826 to 1873. The Britishers, reluctant to learn Assamese, introduced Bengali as the language of the offices, courts, and educational institutions in 1836,3 which undoubtedly fuelled controversy amongst the intelligentsia community of Assam. A possible explanation as to why the British introduced Bengali in Assam—Lord William Bentinck (14 September 1774–17 June 1839), the first governor general of British India, whose key concern was to regain the loss-­making status of East India Company, adopted drastic austerity measures. One of the measures could be to introduce Bengali in Assam, which could reduce the mammoth cost for them in learning Assamese. There could be a debate here as to whether Assamese was the region’s language in courts and administrative works before the advent of the British. Scholars argue that Assamese has been a lingua franca of the region since Ancient Assam (Goswami, 2004, p. 271). Indeed, in its early formative stage,  the Assamese language can be found in the stone inscriptions—for instance, at Ambari Guwahati, the Gachtal Octagonal stone pillar, etc. (Sharma, 2004, p. 268). Goswami (2004) argues that the Assamese, the

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  147 easternmost Indo-­ Aryan language, emerged from Magadhi Apabhramsa, taking definitive shape in ancient Kāmarῡpa, which can be labelled as Kāmarῡpi Prakrit (Goswami, 2004, p. 273). It is similar to Bengali but is an independent language. As Goswami (2004, pp. 272–273) put it: The Assamese language is basically a Magadhan language. Coming from the regions of Videha-­Magadha through North Bengal, Assamese entered Kāmarῡpa or western Assam where this speech was first described as Kāmarῡpi which is evident from the remarks of Hiuen Tsang who visited the kingdom of Kāmarῡpa in the first half of the seventh century AD during the reign of Bhāskaravarmana. He remarked: “The men (of Kāmarῡpa) are of small stature and their complexion of dark yellow. Their language differs a little from that of Mid-­India.” This is the first reference to the Assamese language. This distinctly shows the relationship of Assamese with the Magadhan speech. George Abraham Grierson (1934, p. 34) made similar arguments as he argued: We may trace Magadhi Prakrit from Magadha in three lines: to the south it has become Oriya, to the south-­east it has become first western and then eastern Bengali, and to the east it has become first Northern Bengali and then Assamese. Similar arguments are reiterated in Volume 5, Part 1, Linguistic Survey of India, compiled and edited by George Abraham Grierson (1903–1928). Gogoi (2023) seemingly asserts that during the reign of Suhungmung, the Assamese language accomplished significant growth. She argues that from the reign of Suhungmung “the chronicles or court records were started to be written in [both] Assamese …[and] Ahom language[s]” (Gogoi, 2023, pp. 92–93). It is evident that Assamese was a developed modern language at the time of the advent of the British. Indeed, in 1813, Assam received its first printed book entitled the New Testament (Dharmapustakar Antobhag) under the joint leadership of William Carey (17 August 1761–9 June 1834)—a Christian missionary, social reformer, translator, and cultural anthropologist from England—the founder of Serampore College (Serampore University), and Atmaram Sharma. And by 1819, the original The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments, was translated into Assamese by the Mission Press of Serampore Missionaries.4 Besides the Cotton Collegiate, the first modern school in the region was established in 1834 (Bhattacharyya, 2023). Therefore, neglecting Assamese and replacing Bengali as the courts’ language, and in administrations and schools, was a deliberate attempt to insult the language and its people. However, despite reluctance, in the initial years, the educated people of Assam did apply Bengali in their writings and in administrative and other official works. For instance, Axom Buranji was written in Bengali by Haliram Dhekial Phukan. However, the

148  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma increased number of Bengali recruits in government jobs vis-­à-­vis increased unemployment among the local youths of Assam gradually started seeding xenophobic attitudes or anti-­Bengali syndrome among the people of Assam (Barpujari, 1998; Bose, 1989). Nevertheless, despite the surrogacy of the Bengali language in Assam, there emerged a gradual literary awakening of the Assamese language under the architect of the American Missionary, Doctor Nathan Brown (22 June 1807–1 January 1886) along with the publisher, Oliver Thomas Cutter, who published the magazine Orunodoi in January 1846 in the Baptist Missionary printing press in Sibsagar (now Sivsagar) (Goswami, 2012; Sarma and Sharma, 2023), albeit the idea behind the printing press was to propagate Christianity. Earlier, in 1839, Grammar of the Asamese Language was written by William Robinson, an inspector of schools (Robinson, 1839). With the establishment of the American Baptist Mission Press, Assam further witnessed the growth of the language germinating a whole host of literary scholars—Anandaram Dhekial Phukan, Gunabhiram Barua, Hemchandra Barua, and Nidhi Levi Farwell; their debates, creativity, and ideas started proliferating, disseminating, and penetrating amongst the common mass, making the common mass aware of the diverse local, national, and international issues—science, mathematics, geography, politics, and other topics of general knowledge (Goswami, 2012; Sarma and Sharma, 2023, p. 124). Nathan Brown (1848) further galvanised its intellectual scholarship by publishing a treatise on the Assamese language. This treatise perhaps compelled the British to critically reflect on their grave mistakes, which were echoed in the 1854 report on the province of Assam by Andrew John Moffat Mills, Judge, Sudder Court, Mymensingh (Mills, 1854). Miles Bronson (1812–1883), another American Baptist Missionary like Nathan Brown, arrived at Sadiya in 1838. He established a school at Joypur and started learning Assamese and other dialects of the surrounding tribes— Khamti, Noctes, Singpho, and Wanchos and prepared books for the locals. Bronson’s lexicographic skill gave Assam the first bilingual—Assamese and English—dictionary in 1867 (Bronson, 1867). Assam thus gradually emerged as a prolific publishing space—the Assamese literary environment burgeoned, giving rise to the birth of several newspapers and magazines. Assam Bilasini (1871–1883) was the first Assamese newspaper from Auniati Satra, one of the neo-­Vaishnavite satras, founded by Niranjan Pathakdeva, Majuli, the riverine island. The founder of this newspaper was satradhikar, Sri Sri Duttadev Goswami, and it was published by Dharma Prakash Press (Goswami, 2012; Sarma and Sharma, 2023). Similarly, while Assam News (1882–1885)—the first Anglo-­Assamese weekly—was edited by Hem Chandra Barua and was published from Gauhati, Assam Bandhu (1885–1886), a monthly newspaper, was published from Nowgong under the editorship of Gunabhiram Barua. Another newspaper called Mau, publishing radical views, was launched in 1886; however, because of the radicalisation of the insights, Mau was coerced to plug off its circulation.

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  149 Founded by ‘Probashi’ students of Assam in Calcutta under the umbrella of Axomiā Bhāxā Unnati Xādhini Xabhā, Jonaki (1889–1896), a magazine, emerged as an enlightenment, taking the shape of the era of Romanticism in Assamese literature. The Jonaki era is flamboyantly addressed as Jonaki Jug (Goswami, 2012; Sarma and Sharma, 2023). Assamese Literary Society is another Calcutta-­based students’ organisation that helped shape the growth of Assam’s literature and culture. These two organisations—Axomiā Bhāxā Unnati Xādhini Xabhā and Assamese Literary Society—launched Asam Sahitya Sabha in December 1917 (Bhattacharyya, 2023; Sarma and Sharma, 2023) with Padmanath Gohain Barua and Sarat Chandra Goswami, respectively, as its first president and secretary.5 Other newspapers and periodicals of the time are Usha, Bijuli, Banhi, Banti, The Times of Assam, and The Advocate of Assam. However, most of these publications were short-­lived primarily because of a lack of financial support, but these publications constructed a strong foundation proving modern Assamese as an ‘independent’ language (Goswami, 2004; Grierson, 1934). Arguably, by the grounding of a robust foundation by some of these publications, the 1854 report on the province of Assam by Andrew John Moffat Mills, alongside the continuous efforts and initiation of American Baptist Missionaries and literary stalwarts—Anandaram Dhekial Phukan, Gunabhiram Barua, and Hemchandra Barua—through petitions and memoranda, in 1873, a few months before the creation of Assam as a separate province, the government revised its earlier language policy. Lieutenant Governor of Bengal George Campbell decided to adopt Assamese [alongside Bengali] as the official language[s] of the courts and schools (Goswami, 2012, p. 221) for its native speakers. After this, Assamese was made a medium of instruction in primary schools, while Bengali remained the language of instruction in middle and high schools. There were, however, vociferous remonstrances against retaining Bengali as the medium of education at the middle and high school levels over suspicion that the Bengali language would supersede the Assamese language. Bengali, however, remained a medium of instruction in middle and high schools until the end of the nineteenth century (Chattopadhay, 1990). In his book Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson (2006), an expert on South East Asia’s military conflicts, devotes Chapter 4 to Creole Pioneers. In so doing, Anderson (2006, p. 47) applied the term Creole (Criollo) to a person of European descent but born in the Americas (Das et al., 2022). As Anderson (2006, p. 47) commented: [W]hether we think of Brazil, the USA, or the former colonies of Spain, language was not an element that differentiated them from their respective imperial metropoles. All, including the USA, were creole states, formed and led by people who shared a common language and common descent with those against whom they fought.

150  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma In Chapter 9, the authors have applied creole nationalism embedded in Bangla creole (Das et al., 2022) to demonstrate how the issue of Bangla creole in East Pakistan led to one of the most brutal genocides of the world during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War. In this chapter, we use ‘creole [sub]nationalism’ (Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021) to refer to Assamese culture, tradition, and Assamese language in a similar but slightly different context. We argue that the Assamese creole, as a sub-­nationalism, was visible amongst the Assamese creole pioneers who continued to voice their protests against Bengali as a medium of instruction. Indeed, Assamese creole sub-­ nationalism generated “hate, [xenophobia] and sense of inferiority” among the Assamese creole pioneers supporting their mother tongue, which in turn emerged “into revolutionary impulses” (Anderson, 2006, p. 57) and continue to be reflected in the language movement, Assam Agitation, Nellie Massacre, and, more recently, protests against the National Register of Citizens (NRC) and the CAA 2019 (discussed below). Nevertheless, despite the significant progress of the Assamese language in the literary landscape, the primary schools in Assam suffered from the lack of availability of textbooks in the Assamese language. In February 1874, the territory of Assam—Kamrup, Nagaon, Darrang, Sibsagar, and Lakhimpur, along with Cachar, Goalpara, and the Hill districts (Khasi-­Jaintia Hills, Garo Hills, Naga Hills)—was segregated from Bengal Presidency and constituted as the North-­East Frontier (1874–1905), a non-­ regulation province of the chief commissioner with its capital in Shillong. Sylhet was also separated from Bengal Presidency and added to North-­East Frontier in September 1874. The addition of Sylhet means adding the Bengali population (especially Bengali Muslims) to North East Frontier (Misra, 2017; Das and Bhuyan, 2023). However, the people of Sylhet displayed contestation over its inclusion in North-­East Frontier. Nevertheless, Lord Northbrook (also known as Thomas George Baring, First Earl of Northbrook: 22 January 1826–15 November 1904) paid a visit to Sylhet and ensured that the education and administration of the courts would be operated from Calcutta University and Calcutta High Court while unravelling the employment opportunities of the tea gardens and a market for their local products (Das and Bhuyan, 2023; Hossain, 2013; Misra, 2017). In 1892, the Assam Bengal Railway was established to connect Assam and Sylhet with the Chittagong Port city, enhancing tea export via the port. The new avenues subsided the protests of the people of Sylhet, but the migration policies changed by the new administration, unsurprisingly, failed to consider the historical and sub-­ cultural values of the North-­East Frontier region (including the burning issue of language) (Das and Bhuyan, 2023; Misra, 2017). As Hossain (2013, p. 262) put it: The administration of this new province adopted two major policies: first, it would ensure the smooth recruitment of tea labourers from outside6 and, secondly, it would oversee a policy of sponsored migration of

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  151 Bengali peasants from East Bengal districts to the countryside of Sylhet and Assam to facilitate the expansion of agriculture. This was done under the slogan ‘Grow more food’. Evidently, colonial officialdom did not consider historical or cultural contiguity when it declared Assam to be a new administrative province. (Hossain, 2013, p. 262) Critics argue that the ‘Grow more food’ migration policy programme was weaponised to concoct political plots (Assam Portal, 2007; Borkakoti, 2013; Borooah, 2013; Singh, 1990). According to the 1891 Census, in Assam, the proportion of Muslims to 10,000 of the population stood at 2,710 (General Report on the Census of India, 1891, 1893, p. 172). Following the first partition of Bengal into East and West in 1905, East Bengal and Assam were grouped together and made an administrative province from 1905 to 1912. Nawab Sir Khwaja Salimullah Bahadur (7 June 1871–16 January 1915), the fourth Nawab of Dhaka, himself an ardent supporter of the Partition of Bengal and a member of the Legislative Council of Assam and Bengal and a vice president of All India Muslim League (AIML)7 “persuaded the peasantry Muslims of the densely populated districts of Mymensingh, Dhaka, Pabna to migrate to Assam and settle in the fertile char8 areas of Goalpara, Kamrup, Darrang, Nowgong, Sibasagar and Lakhimpur” (Bhattacharyya, 2019, p. 112; Borkakoti, 2013). This persuasiveness is conceived as a political conspiracy to increase the Muslim population in Assam in the name of growing crops. CS Mullan made this observation in the Census of India 1931, Volume III, Assam, Part I-­Report (Table 7.1; Figure 7.2). He argued that in 1911 only a few peasants from East Bengal (present Bangladesh) had crossed beyond Goalpara and other migrants from East Bengal in the Assam Valley constituted professionals, clerks, and traders. However, in the decade 1911–1921, the migrants from East Bengal migrated far up the valley and started colonising surrounding Nowgong, making up 14% of the total population; in the then Kamrup District, the peasantry migrants occupied the wastelands of the Barpeta subdivision; CS Mullan (1932) further argued that the settlement of the migrants in Darrang was at its earliest stage; while in Sibsagar and Lakhimpur, the migrant settlement seems to be scarce, Goalpara comprised

Table 7.1  Number of Persons Born in Bengal in Each District of Assam, 1911–1931 (Ms = Mymensingh and Population in 000s) Year Goalpara

Kamrup

Darrang

Nowgong

Sibsagar

Lakhimpur

1911 77(Ms.34) 4(Ms.1) 7 (Ms.1) 4(Ms.1) 14(Ms.Nil) 14(Ms.Nil) 1921 151 (Ms.78) 44 (Ms.30) 20(Ms.12) 58(Ms.52) 14(Ms.Nil) 14(Ms.Nil) 1931 170 (Ms.80) 134(Ms.91) 41(Ms.30) 120(Ms.108) 12(Ms.Nil) 19 (Ms.2) Source: Census of India 1931, Volume III, Assam, Part I – Report by CS Mullan, page 50.

152  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma

Figure 7.2 Increase in the Number of Persons Born in Mymensingh in Goalpara, Kamrup and Nowgong Districts in Assam, 1911–1931. Source: Census of India 1931, Volume III, Assam, Part I-­Report by CS Mullan, page 50.

approximately 20% of the migrants of the total population (see Table 7.1, Figure 7.2). Based on these evidence, CS Mullan (1932, p. 50) asserted: Probably the most important event in the province during the last twenty five years—an event, moreover, which seems likely to alter permanently the whole future of Assam and to destroy more surely than did the Burmese invaders of 1820; the whole structure of Assamese culture and civilisation—has been the invasion of a vast horde of land-­ hungry Bengali immigrants, mostly Muslims, from the districts of Eastern Bengal and in particular from Mymensingh. This invasion began sometime before 1911, and the census report of that year is the first-­report which makes mention of the advancing host. But, as we now know, the Bengali immigrants censused for the first time on the char lands of Goalpara in 1911 were merely the advance guard-­or rather the scouts-­of a huge army following closely at their heels. By 1921 the first army corps had passed into Assam and had practically conquered the district of Goalpara. Critics address the startling growth of the migrant population from East Bengal under ‘Grow more Food’ as ‘Grow more Muslims’ (Singh, 1990, p. 70; also Assam Portal, 2007). It is to be noted here that because of the size of Bengali Muslims of Sylhet and other parts of Assam, the AIML succeeded in forming its first elected government in November 1939 in British Assam. The large-­scale colonisation of the Muslim peasantry (Figure 7.3), however, continued during the reign of AIML (Gohain, 1980) under Sir Syed Muhammad Saadulla’s (21 May 1885–8 January 1955) government,9 who allocated 15,088 thousand acres (61,058,969,701 thousand hectares) of the land of Assam to resettle the Bengali Muslim migrants (Bhattacharyya, 2019; Saikia, 2019). While Gohain (1980, p. 418) calls it a ploy to increase the Muslim vote banks (Pisharoty, 2019) and “‘silent invasion’ by foreigners”, we question

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  153

Figure 7.3 Migrants from East Bengal/East Pakistan in Assam, 1901–1951. Source: Census of India, created by the Authors.

whether it was a larger clandestine plan, an artifice towards silent genocide bearing profound and far-­reaching implications (discussed below). The cascading effect of this form of the geopolitics of migration started building sub-­nationalistic threats among the indigenous people of Assam10 linked to Jati, Mati and Bheti—nationality, land, and the hearth (Baruah, 1999; Dutta, 2017), referring intensely to one’s clan, home, and homeland (Bhattacharyya, 2019). To restrict the further occupation of the land of the indigenous people and prevent the flow of Muslim migrants from East Bengal, the British drew a line system (modified in 1939). However, AIML requested the government to rescind the line system and replace it with a more liberal policy (Bhattacharyya, 2019; Nath and Kumar, 2010). Of the Bengali migrants arriving in Assam from East Bengal from 1901 to 1951, approximately 85% were Muslims (Saikia, 2019). Nearing the partition of undivided India into India and Pakistan based on religion via the deployment of two-­nation theory,11 advanced by AIML leader Muhammad Ali Jinnah (Das et al., 2022), the three-­ membered Cabinet Mission—Stafford Cripps, A.V. Alexander, and Pethick Lawrence—which arrived on 19 March 1946 in Delhi, proposed grouping Assam with North

154  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma Eastern Pakistan zone12 (Bhattacharyya, 2009; Das et al., 2022; James, 1997). However, following vehement opposition from Assam Congress Committee, alongside prodigious support rendered by Mahatma Gandhi, the father of the nation, Assam was excluded from being under the governance of East Pakistan. Nevertheless, Assam had to sacrifice Sylhet, the Muslim-­majority district covering an area of approximately 18,969 square kilometres to East Pakistan except for the thanas of Badarpur, Ratabari, and Patharkandi and a portion of the Karimganj thana, and bear changes in its political map following the Sylhet referendum (Bhattacharyya, 2019; Das and Bhuyan, 2023; see, Dutta, 2024, Chapter 8 of this volume). Unsurprisingly, between 1951 and 1971, the growth rate of both Muslim and non-­Muslim populations in Assam stood at 182% (Borooah, 2013)— there were 1,982,000 Muslims in 1951 which increased to 3,592,000 in 1971; and in terms of non-­Muslims, there were 60,47,000 in 1951, which increased to 1,10,33,000 in 1971. Scholars argue that this phenomenon is not due to natural growth because, in the aftermath of India’s independence, Assam faced staggeringly high mortality and moderate fertility, albeit the fertility rates13 among Muslims are higher than that of the Hindus. Therefore, the demographers attribute the exponential growth of population (both Hindus and Muslims)—mostly illegal (undocumented) migrants (refugees) from East Pakistan (Saikia, 2019)—to the following: first, the 1947 partition of undivided India into India and Pakistan that led to the riots between Hindus and Muslims; second, the escalation of xenophobia and violence from West Pakistanis against East Pakistanis, post the partition, including 1964 Hindu-­ Muslim riots in East Pakistan; third, the 1965 India Pakistan Aerial War; and fourth, the xenophobia leading to genocide during the Bangladesh War in 1971 (refer to Chapter 9 of this volume) (Das et al., 2022). It is to be noted here that according to the Section 2(1)(b) of the Citizenship Act 1955, an illegal migrant is defined as an individual of a foreign soil who entered India (i) without a valid passport or other travel documents and such other document or authority as may be prescribed by or under any law in that behalf; or (ii) with a valid passport or other travel documents and such other document or authority as may be prescribed by or under any law in that behalf but remains therein beyond the permitted period of time. (The Citizenship Act, 1955) Notably, the 1961 Census of India reported the entry of 2,20,691 infiltrants into Assam. Between 1961 and 1966, 1,78,952 infiltrants were either deported or had voluntarily left the country; however, approximately 40,000 infiltrants have failed to leave the country (White Paper on Foreigners Issue, n.d.). Nevertheless, post the partition, the Liaquat–Nehru Pact (or the Delhi Pact),14 a bilateral treaty, was signed on 08 April 1950 (File No: PA50B1228)

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  155 between the Union of India and Pakistan aimed at safeguarding the minorities via a guarantee of “complete equality of citizenship, irrespective of religion, a full sense of security in respect of life, culture, property, and personal honour, freedom of movement within each country and freedom of occupation, speech and worship, subject to law and morality”. The treaty inter alia also mentioned that the migrants (refugees) who would return home on or before 31 December 1950 would be eligible to get back their immovable properties (Baruah, 1999, p. 119). Furthermore, four tribunals were established by mid-­1964 to investigate cases of suspected infiltrants and serve quit India notices (White Paper on Foreigners Issue, n.d.). Alongside this, the new Constitution of India made special provisions to grant citizenship to the refugees for nearly two decades (until 01 January 1966) (Bhattacharyya, 2019; Nath and Kumar, 2010). The Hindu refugees who entered India without documents (in other words, illegally) after this date were required to follow the legal process of naturalisation for the accomplishment of citizenship. Baruah (1999, p. 119), however, argues: The Immigrants(Expulsion from Assam) Act of 1950 implicitly distinguished between Hindu refugees and Muslim illegal aliens. But the law was repealed in 1957. Then a secret administrative order from the government of India in 1965 said that East Pakistani minorities, that is Hindus, settled in India for more than six months could be granted citizenship by a District Magistrate following some very easy procedures. The administrative order was withdrawn in 1971, but the order became a source of dispute in negotiations between the Assam movement leaders and the government. Nevertheless, most refugees failed to take the legal course for different reasons and continued to live as illegal migrants. For these illegal migrants (following predominantly Hindu faiths), the government promulgated the CAA 2019, taking Liaquat–Nehru Pact as the backdrop.15 Nevertheless, the increasing Bengali population vis-­à-­vis the enactment of the States Reorganisation Act 1956,16 which aimed at reorganising the boundaries of the states and union territories, taking language as the key indicator, again sparked the language movement. The following section discusses the language movement. Language Movement It remains well documented that the linguistic issue remains an emotional issue among the people of Assam. According to the 25th edition of the Ethnologue: Languages of the World published in 2022, among the parameter “at least 10 million first-­language speakers”: Assamese occupies 67th position and is spoken by 15.3 million native speakers; Bengali occupies the 5th position and is currently spoken by 233.7 million; and Sylheti Bengali occupies 91st position and is spoken by 10.3 million (Summary by Language

156  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma Size, 2022). As per the 1931 Census of India, the number of Assamese speakers stood at 1.74 million, which increased to 4.55 million in 1951 (Chubbra, 1992). One might question here as to what the cause was for the increase of Assamese-­speaking people in the 1951 Census: Is it natural or something else? Ethnographic observation reveals that the then political map of Assam (undivided) showed Karimganj as a Bengali-­dominated geographical space. Besides, in the United Khasi-­Jayantiya Hills, Garo Hills, Mizo Hills, and United Mikir and North-­Cachar Hills, the percentage of population speaking Assamese was meagre and stood approximately at 5% during the time (Trivedi, 1995). Renowned scholars like HK Barpujari (1998) have reported that the reason for the increase in Assamese speakers is because the ‘tea tribes’ reported their first language as Assamese. In addition, many Bengali Muslims from East Pakistan (East Bengal) too reported their first language as  Assamese, perhaps for two key intentions: first, to assimilate with the Assamese society; second, for prospective landholding (Chubbra, 1992; Trivedi, 1995). Witnessing the artificial growth of Assamese speakers in the 1951 Census, the Assamese creole pioneers again started their demand for the incorporation of Assamese as the official language of the state; this demand further escalated following the enactment of the States Reorganisation Act 1956. In 1950, Asam Sahitya Sabha passed a resolution to make Assamese the official language of Assam (Chattopadhay, 1990). The magnitude of the movement helped in the inclusion of Assamese in the Eighth Schedule to the Constitution of the Republic of India (Trivedi, 1995), signalling that Assamese, as per Articles 344(1) and 351 of the Constitution of India, was entitled to representation on the Official Languages Commission. In 1959, Asam Sahitya Sabha again passed another resolution, this time with the demand of making Assamese the only official language of Assam, which not only fuelled political controversy but triggered protests. While the Assam Pradesh Congress Committee (APCC) buttressed Asam Sahitya Sabha’s resolution by passing a resolution of support, non-­Assamese speakers such as non-­Assamese students of Shillong launched protests. Alongside, Silchar and Karimganj Bar Associations demanded President’s rule. At times, the protests turned violent, killing an Assamese student and injuring six. It is important to note that in the early part of 1963 the Ministry of External Affairs admitted to enlisting foreigners in the voters’ list (Reddi, 1981), which arguably were mostly Bengalis. So, on 10 October 1960, under the leadership of the third chief minister of Assam, Bimala Prasad Chaliha of the Indian National Congress, who remained in the office for nearly 13 years (12 December 1957 to 6 November 1970), proposed the Assamese Official Language Bill in the Assembly making provisions for two official languages—Assamese and English (with the intent of carrying the legacy of Colonialism for an interim period), which was passed on 24 October 1960 (The Assam Official Language Act, 1960, 1960). Enforcement of this act on the one side ignited the flame of a mixed bag of protests in Cachar, Karimganj of Barak Valley, and on the other side, the

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  157 Manipuris, indigenous Cacharis, and even a group of Muslims submitted a memorandum to the home minister via their organisation Shanti Parishad requesting Assamese to be kept as the only Assamese language in the offices and schools. The protests and counter-­protests between the two groups escalated, leading to violence and deaths. This compelled the government to revisit the Language Act and make an amendment on 07 October 1961, known as the Assam Official Language (Amendment) Act 1961. Clause 5 of this amendment read: 5. Without prejudice to the provisions contained in Section 3, the Bengali Language shall be used for administrative and other official purposes up to and including the district level in the district of Cachar.17 Gauhati University (GU), a premier institute of the region established on 26 January 1948, in 1970, pledged to make Assamese a medium of instruction in its then affiliated colleges that remained scattered in erstwhile North-­East Frontier Agency (NEFA; now Arunachal Pradesh), Meghalaya, and undivided Cachar District (present Dima Hasao District, formerly North Cachar Hills), Karimganj, and Hailakandi.18 GU made it explicitly clear that the English language, being a colonial legacy, would also continue hand in hand alongside Assamese. However, GU announced no deadline to make their pledge a reality. The smoke of this pledge had already started kindling a fire of protests among the protestors of undivided Cachar. The rising level of protests had compelled the GU to release a circular in March 1972, allowing students to write answer scripts in Bengali. A section of the student community from the Brahmaputra Valley reacted to this move by supporting the students of Cachar—while they agreed and endorsed the circular in favour of the students of Cachar writing their answer scripts in Bengali, they failed to bolster the same for the Bengali students of the Brahmaputra Valley. Asam Sahitya Sabha, too, reinforced this argument. Consequently, the GU reversed its stand, making it explicit that only answer scripts in English and Assamese would be accepted, which again triggered protests and violence, spilling a few public spaces with blood. The Honourable Apex Court of India had to intervene by releasing a stay order (Chattopadhay, 1990; Debates on Governor’s Address, 1973; Kamrupee, 1972). Nevertheless, these protests kindled the idea of a university in the Barak Valley. But, of course, there were voices of protest from the students’ community of the Brahmaputra Valley on the ground that the idea of establishing a university in the Barak Valley would violate the suggestion of the States Reorganisation Act 1956, which had announced Assam as a state for the Assamese-­ speaking people. In 1994, Assam University, a Central Public University, was founded in Silchar through an act of the Parliament of India. Nevertheless, the undocumented migrants’ conundrum, mainly from erstwhile East Pakistan, continues to be an issue of concern taking the shape of “raw nerve, a collective paranoia, and widely regarded as a festering problem

158  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma only due to [Central Government], New Delhi’s continued nonchalance towards Assamese concerns since the time of Jawaharlal Nehru regime” (Pisharoty, 2019, p. 27). Assam Agitation is discussed in the following section. Assam Agitation The culmination of the migrants’ crises (including internal migrants from various parts of India and Nepal as Nepali dairy herders); the high natural reproductive growth among the Muslim population (Baruah, 1999; Bhattacharyya, 2009; Borooah, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019); the medium of instruction movement (Gohain, 1981; Guha, 1980; Kimura, 2013); the forced sterilisation aimed at population control during the 21-­month (1975 to 1977) state of Emergency19 under Mrs Indira Gandhi’s regime (Harris Green, 2018) as well as the fear of being surrounded by Bengali speakers (Weiner, 1983) resurfaced the issue of sub-­nationalism. Weiner (1983) argued that the Assamese realised that their community was much smaller when compared to the Bengali-­speaking population surrounding the geographical territory of Assam. In 1980, the population of Bengali-­speaking people in Bangladesh stood at 88.5 million, followed by West Bengal with 54.4 million (1981 Census) and 2 million in Tripura, thus adding a total of 145 million Bengali-­ speaking population (Weiner, 1983). Therefore, Assamese creole entangled in “linguistic and sub-­ cultural identity (ethnic and indigenous identities)” of jati, mati, bheti (Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021, p. 7) again took centre stage, creating a turbulent chauvinistic environment that led to large-­scale civil unrest among the people of Assam. Also known as Assam Movement or Anti-­Foreigners Agitation, this movement was launched under the joint leadership of the All Assam Students Union (AASU) and All Assam Gana Sangram Parishad (AAGSP). The movement demanded the deportation of ‘illegal migrants’ vis-­à-­vis the removal of the names of ‘illegal migrants’ from the state voters’ list who continue to act as a vote bank for the political parties. Taking the movement’s violent rigours and creole sub-­nationalism into context, Weiner (1983) compared it with large-­scale civil conflicts in Malaysia, Lebanon, Northern Ireland, and Cyprus (Bhattacharyya, 2009; Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). Guha (1980, p. 1699) although agreed that the Assam Agitation was a national movement, he, however, criticised the movement as “chauvinist, undemocratic in content, and proto-­fascist in its methods”—a movement dictated by the Assamese middle class, who controlled the powerful print media of the time (Guha, 1980). Scholars like Gail Omvedt (1981) and Hiren Gohain (1981) made constructive criticism of this study and the debates therein, as argued by Guha (1980), especially in the context of chauvinism, right to self-­ determination, and the question of nationality. Notwithstanding these debates, one has to agree that the creole sub-­national movement further sharpened xenophobia against the Bengalis (both Muslims and Hindus from Bangladesh) and often turned violent,

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  159 killing people of both sides (Bhattacharyya, 2009; Baruah, 2021; Gohain, 1980; Pisharoty, 2019; Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). Gohain (1980, p. 419) argued that the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) tried to repaint Assam Agitation as an anti-­Muslim movement because the then RSS general secretary, Rajendra Singh, visited Assam and “declared that the Hindus from Bangladesh should be allowed to stay on, but the Muslims be driven out”. Overall, due to state-­sponsored firing to control the agitators, the state lost 855 young Bravehearts—the martyrs.20 At the same time, the violence spearheaded by the agitators too turned ugly in different parts of Assam—Tinsukia, Dibrugarh, Kamrup, Nagaon, and Barpeta (Bhattacharyya, 2009; Gohain, 1980; Pisharoty, 2019; Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). Statistics suggest that between 1979 and December 1982, the number of murders stood at 272; there were 425 cases of arson, 1,404 assault cases, and 330 cases of explosions. On 18 February 1983, a Friday, a significant day for the Muslims, the xenophobic violence against the Bengali Muslims at Nellie, located near the Dharamtul Bridge in Nagaon, culminated in genocide—Nellie Massacre (Kimura, 2013). Nellie Massacre Amid the Assam Agitation, the 1983 Assam Assembly elections were announced. Driven by politics of greed, the then prime minister, late Mrs Indira Gandhi, on the eve of the election, committed a blunder by deciding to bestow ‘the right to vote’ to the four million Bengali migrants from Bangladesh (Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019; The Assam Tribune, 2008). The AASU leaders announced a boycott of the elections and demanded that the voters’ list be made public, and the suspected illegal migrants be deported, possibly to Bangladesh. Disturbing as it is, the consequence of this enormous blooper fuelled additional hate and fear among the indigenous communities regarding jati, mati, bheti leading to the xenophobic pogrom following a series of large-­ scale communal violence in various geographical spaces—Nagaon, Morigaon, Gohpur, and Goreshwar (Hazarika, 2019; Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019). In the Nagaon District, the xenophobia between local Assamese (opposing the election) and the migrant Muslims (election supporters) translated into clashes, the first on 12 February near the Gagalsari area under the Morigaon police station. The waves of the clash reached the neighbouring villages inhabited by native Assamese speakers and plain tribes, killing four Muslims and five Assamese Hindus. This followed an attack on three Assamese villages by migrant Muslim villagers under the Lahorighat police station. This incident led both the Bengali Hindu and Muslim communities to join hands in a slightly different area of the Nagaon District and attack Assamese villages, burning 27 houses of its inhabitants while killing three Assamese and two Bengali Hindus. This further escalated xenophobic violence. On 14 February, in the Botabari and Singhara area under the Lahorighat police station, the migrant Muslims attacked Assamese Hindu

160  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma villages and burned 139 houses. As a counter retaliation, in Titatola 144 homes of Muslim migrants were ravaged by the Assamese Hindus. On the same day, the migrant Muslims devastated Assamese families and their properties in the Mikirbheta area. As a continuation of these conflicts, on 15  February, the Muslim migrants under the Lahorighat police station burned the properties of 172 Assamese Hindu families, annihilating 9 of them. All these gruesome incidents indicate that the overall atmosphere in the Nagaon District was volatile (Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019). Nevertheless, on the eve of the election, the then inspector general of police (IGP) (Law and Order), KPS Gill, assessed the ground reality and suggested holding the election in phases to avoid violence (Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019; The Assam Tribune, 2008). It is to be noted here that the state agents killed more than 500 AASU volunteers during this election (Rehman, 2006). According to the assessment of the IGP, in 63 constituencies violence-­free elections were possible, but 23 constituencies, including Nellie, were identified as ‘troubled spots’ for holding the election. During the election, approximately 70,000 police and paramilitary forces were deployed to maintain law and order— albeit, overall, the voter turnout was poor, and there were reports of stealing ballot boxes, looting, and rioting in several constituencies (BBC News, n.d.; Kimura, 2013; The Assam Tribune, 2008). Although repolling was ordered in several polling booths, the Congress Party won the election with a two-­ thirds majority. Earlier, the government officials, too, were reluctant to attend the election duty, fearing for their safety and security. Still, the prime minister announced, “No one has the right to stop the election” (BBC News, n.d.), but declared group insurance for those officials who were delegated election duty. We argue that the autocratic decisions and announcements from a sitting prime minister incited the already-­simmering environment in the rural setting of the Nagaon District (Kimura, 2013), intending to massacre the Bengali Muslims inhabiting the nearby villages. As Pisharoty (2019, p. 90) put it: … between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m., a murderous mob comprising people from nearby villages —inhabited by the plain tribes Tiwa (also known as Lalung), and two Scheduled Caste Assamese groups, Koch and Hira—surrounded as many as fourteen settlements of Muslims of East Bengal origin and killed whoever came in sight. These were mostly children, women, old people—all those who didn’t have a pair of legs faster than the killers. The mob set ablaze the houses to push out those inside them, then circled them from all sides before hacking them to death with sharp machetes and spears, or with poisoned arrows shot from bamboo bows. Following villages were attacked by an angry mob carrying out genocide— Nellie, Borbori, Baihati, Bhogdubi Habi, Alisinga, No.I Muladhari, Silbheta, Silcherri, Endurmari, Matiparbat, Borojolah, Bhatinimara, and Mikirbheta.

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  161 This massacre took 1,819 lives, which is obviously an official count, but unofficial estimates account for approximately 3,000, which is reinforced by Radhakrishna Pisharoty, the then press advisor to the governor of Assam (Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019). Three key witnesses to this genocide were print media reporters: Hemendra Narayan of The Indian Express, Bedabrat Lahkar of The Assam Tribune, and S Sarma of ABC News. It was indeed Hemandra Narayan’s reporting in The Indian Express that raised eyebrows in the national media and created ripples of alarm amidst the international media, calling it one of the biggest riots since India’s partition. This carnage left about 6,000 people homeless, coercing them to take refuge in relief camps (BBC News, n.d.; Kimura, 2013; Pisharoty, 2019). Mrs Indira Gandhi visited the carnage site four days later and announced a grant package of £330,000 but failed to take moral responsibility for the massacre; instead, she blamed the agitators for committing a heinous carnage (BBC News, n.d.; Pisharoty, 2019), without taking into consideration the emotion of the indigenous people of Assam. However, two and a half decades later, the then IGP, Mr KPS Gill, admitted that the 1983 election was a mistake (The Assam Tribune, 2008). Though the pain of this horrific incident keeps haunting the victims, evidently 688 criminal cases were filed against the perpetrators, of which 378 were closed after the final report stating lack of evidence; charge sheets were filed for the remaining 310 cases. Sadly, however, all the charges were dropped off, and not a single perpetrator was accused of the vicious crime. Critics reckon that this was because of the Assam Accord,21 which was signed on the wee hours (2:45 am) of 15 August 1985 by the representatives of the concerned stakeholders, namely the then prime minister Mr Rajiv Gandhi,22 Union Home Secretary Ram D Pradhan alongside other dignitaries, Government of Assam, and the leaders of the Assam Agitation—ASSU President Mr Prafulla Kumar Mahanta, General Secretary Mr Bhrigu Kumar Phukan, and Mr Biraj Sarma. Besides, the 600-­page report, entitled The Commission of Enquiry on Assam Disturbances, 1983, prepared and submitted to the Hiteswar Saikia government by the Tewary Commission,23 has been secretive and remains non-­public (Rehman, 2006). The 1985 Axom Gana Parishad government also followed in its footsteps— officially closing the chapter of the Nellie Massacre. All India United Democratic Front (AIUDF) has been working to put this report in the public domain. However, the six-­hour tragic tales of this massacre have been capsuled by Subasri Krishnan, a Delhi-­based filmmaker, in her documentary entitled What the Fields Remember, keeps the killing fields of Neille alive (Banerjee, 2015; Rangan, 2015). Assam Accord Central to the Assam Accord was the solution to the foreigners’ issue (Clause 5) and constitutional, legislative, and administrative safeguards of the indigenous people of Assam through the preservation and promotion of the

162  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma socio-­cultural, linguistic identity, and heritage (Clause 6).24 The other clauses of the Accord entailed fencing the border, building border roads, and setting up border outposts. Now almost three and a half decades after signing the Accord, the question is, were the clauses of the Assam Accord translated into reality? The answer is perhaps ‘a big no’. This is because the then weasel-­ worded Assam Accord bearing an amateurish read, which was indeed a ‘Memorandum of Settlement’ between the concerned stakeholders “not passed by the Parliament, is now [an] outdated [document] as [many] events [in more than three decades] have overtaken it” (Borkakoti, 2013, p. 39; Ravi, 2012). However, it was reactivated during the anti-­CAA movement and has been used as a tool to safeguard the indigenous communities of Assam. As per the NRC for Assam during the Census of India 1951, one of the key demands of the Assam Agitation was the detection and deportation of those illegal migrants who entered Assam after 1951. However, clause 5 of the Assam Accord settled 01 January 1966 as the base data and the year. This means all-­foreign individuals who entered Assam prior to this date and year, including those whose names were incorporated on the electoral rolls used in the 1967 elections, will be regularised. However, those foreign individuals who entered Assam after 01 January 1966 (inclusive) and up to 24 March 1971 should be detected as per the provisions of the Foreigners Act 1946 and the Foreigners (Tribunals) Order 1964. And the foreign nationals who entered Assam on or after 25 March 1971 should be expelled and deported. The Accord’s signatories failed to take into account the Bangladesh Liberation War 1971, which lasted for more than eight months between East and West Pakistan, starting on 26 March until 16 December 1971. During this period, large-­scale refugees (mostly Hindu migrants) entered India and sought refuge mainly in the present North Eastern states (erstwhile undivided Assam, Manipur and Tripura). In this war, India played a proactive role in helping Bangladesh win over Pakistan. Another sub-­clause of clause 5 of the Assam Accord was for the government to give due consideration to the constraints in implementing the Illegal Migrants (Determination by Tribunals) Act 1983 (India: Act No. 39 of 1983), which was passed by the Parliament during the Indira Gandhi regime amid the Assam Agitation. Known in short form as IMDT Act 1983, it received assent from the president of India on 25 December 1983 and was published in the Gazette of India, Extra, Part II, Section I, on 26 December 1983. The IMDT Act was promulgated in Assam on 15 October 1983, even before it was assented by the president of India, albeit the act extends to the whole of India. The act aimed to determine whether an individual is an illegal migrant via a Tribunal. Should the Tribunal flag a foreign individual as an illegal migrant, the central government must expel such illegal migrants from the country and resolve other matters linked to it. The critics argue that the IMDT Act was embedded in flaws as it appeared to be one of the biggest obstacles in expelling illegal foreigners (Borkakoti, 2013; Ravi, 2012; The

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  163 Hindu, 2005). The burden of proving a suspected foreign individual as an illegal migrant lies on the whistle-­blower or the police rather than the accused (Borkakoti, 2013; Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). IMDT Act was arguably unethically legitimised in the Assam Accord (Borkakoti, 2013; Ravi, 2012). The honourable Supreme Court of India repealed this act following a challenge by the former chief minister of Assam Mr Sarbananda Sonowal, vide a writ petition, Sonowal vs Union of India, 5 December 2006 (Sinha, n.d.). The judgement of the Apex Court argued that under the IMDT Act only 10,015 foreign individuals out of 3,10,759 cases of inquiry were declared as  illegal migrants, physically expelling only 1,481 illegal migrants as of 30 April 2000 (The Hindu, 2005). Arguably, the increased cases of (il)legal migrants have not only altered the demographic profile of the indigenous people of Assam (please also refer to Figures 7.4, 7.5, and 7.6) but also crossed the threshold of threats impacting the identity, language, and culture of the local people of the state (Bhattacharyya, 2019; Das and Bhuyan, 2023; Nath and Kumar, 2010; The Hindu, 2005). The threat was explicitly visible during the Assam Assembly Election 2021. During the third phase, in an election rally on 3 April 2021, at Bhabanipur, Bajali District, the native place

Figure 7.4 Share of Muslim population to the total population of Assam (1901–2011). Source: Census of India; created by the authors.

164  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma

Figure 7.5 Intercensal Population Growth Rate of Hindus and Muslims in Assam (1951–2011). Source: Census of India, created by the authors.

of the first martyr Khargeswar Talukdar, Abdur Rahim (Junior Ajmal)—son of Maulana Badruddin Ajmal, founder of AIUDF and the self-­ declared voice of migrant Bengali Muslims—sent shockwaves when he said: Amradahri-­ topi-­ lungiwallah manusher sarkar hoiba. Aamrar ma-­ bhanidder dupatta izzat kora lagbo, amrar mabhanidder burkhar izzat  kora lagbo (we beard-­cap-­lungi wearing people will form the government. The duppata of our mothers and sisters have to be respected. The burqa of our mothers and sisters have to be respected). (Kalita, 2021) Similar statements were made at another election rally on 30 March 2021 by AIUDF: Uppar Allah, dharti ka uppar Badruddin Ajmal, Inshallah (there is [a] God above and Ajmal in the ground) (Singh, 2021)

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  165

Figure 7.6 Trend of Population Growth of Hindus and Muslims in Barak Valley (1961–2011). Source: Census of India; created by the Authors.

Unsurprisingly, the United Liberation Front of Asom (ULFA), the insurgency organisation, launched in Sivasagar on 7 April 1979 in parallel to the Assam Movement demanding an independent sovereign nation-­state of Assam for the indigenous people, has largely remained silent on the issue of Bangladeshi migrants. Instead, it is apparent that ULFA has encouraged infiltration. Evidence suggests that the ULFA cadres used the Char areas inhabited by the migrant Muslims as their safe haven to carry out unlawful activities; the ULFA leaders themselves have been taking shelter in Bangladesh (Borkakoti, 2013). Nevertheless, witnessing the gradual trend towards change in demographic profile (which we call a silent genocide), in 2009, Mr Aabhijeet Sharma, president of Assam Public Works, an NGO, filed a petition in the honourable Supreme Court demanding the deletion of the names of the presumed 4.1 million illegal migrants (mainly from Bangladesh) from the electoral rolls, their deportation from the state, as well as updation of the NRC. In response to this petition, the Apex Court ordered updating the NRC in 2013, the process of which started in 2015.

166  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma Towards a Silent Genocide While the question of Assamese creole sub-­nationalism hinged on linguistic and socio-­cultural identity attached to jati, mati, bheti continues to remain an emotive issue among the indigenous people of Assam, the Muslim Census (2021) unravels that the Hindu communities of Assam have been reduced to a minority in 11 districts out of the total of 35 districts (Figure 7.7). The Census of India is yet to reveal its 2021 data. Nevertheless, the Muslim Census (2021) shows that the decadal increase of its population is more than 31%. This Census estimates that its population has risen to over 40%, comprising approximately 14.02 million of the state’s total population (Sarma and Bhattacharyya, 2021). Out of the 14.02 million Muslims, only 4 million indigenous Muslims constituting Goria (converted from other indigenous tribes and groups), Moria (those brought by the Ahoms for their artistic skills of making weapons and utensils), and Deshi (those who converted from Koch-­Rajbongshi community) are indigenous Muslims (The Hindu, 2021). It is arguable that infiltration and the process of migrant Bengali-­Muslimisation signal that the state is following the footstep of Kashmir (Chapter 4; see also Pulla, 2022) and is under the grip of silent genocide. The phrase ‘silent genocide’ was used in the case of the Guatemalan genocide, especially during the reign of Efrain Rios Montt—the 14-­month dark days between 1982 and 1983—during this period, about 440 Mayan villages were wrecked; children were the key targets where at least 200,000 children lost at least one parent; rape, pillage, and murder were a common feature and 620 massacres were carried against the Mayan peasants (Shreve, 2021). Approximately 2 million Mayan people became victims of state-­sponsored genocide during the protracted Guatemalan Civil War (1960–1996) between the Government of Guatemala and the leftist-­rebel groups. In addition, approximately 200,000 sought refuge in Mexico after fleeing the country to escape violence, while about a million Maya civilians faced internal displacement (Blakeley, 2009). In this chapter, we use the phrase ‘silent genocide’ in the context of changing linguistic, demographic, and sub-­ cultural sub-­ nationalism. One has to acknowledge that the definition of genocide, as put forward by the United Nations, is narrow and “includes an element that is often hard to prove, the element of ‘intent’” (When to Refer to a Situation as “Genocide”, n.d.). Obviously, it is not easy to prove the intent of this case too, but the demographic transformation is evident, which in turn has impacted the linguistic and socio-­cultural structures of the state. Besides, as discussed above in the chapter, meticulous historical observations indicate that some of the genocide stages propounded by Dr Gregory H. Stanton, president of Genocide Watch,25 are co-­occurring. These are: classification (Stage 1), symbolisation (Stage 2), polarisation (Stage 6), ‘new’ discrimination (Stage 3), and denial (Stage 10) (Chapter 1). As a measure of preventing illegal infiltration, as mentioned above, based on the Citizenship Act 1955, Clause 5—the foreigners of the Assam Accord and the Citizenship (Registration of Citizens and Issue of

Source: Muslim Census (2021).

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  167

Figure 7.7 District-wise Percentage of Muslim Population, Assam.

168  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma National Identity Cards) Rules 2003—the NRC updation was started in 2015 under the jurisdiction of the honourable Supreme Court of India and completed on 31 August 2019 (Das and Bhuyan, 2023; Hazarika, 2019). In the NRC exercise, 33.2 million people had initially applied for registration in the citizenship records based on legacy data, out of which 31 million were included in the citizenship record while leaving out 19,06,657 residents who failed to make it to the list. The critics argue that the NRC was a flawed exercise as the names of many native residents of the state have been excluded. This chapter, however, does not delve into the issues of statelessness, deportation, or human rights. We argue that despite being a faulty exercise, NRC is crucial to detecting future (il)legal migrants entering the country. Another loose prevention measure taken by the right-­wing government at the centre and the state is the implementation of the CAA, 2019. Through the implementation of CAA, 2019, the government aims to grant citizenship to the Hindu illegal migrants from Bangladesh and keep Assam a Hindu state for at least the next decade. But unfortunately, the implementation of CAA, 2019 sparked a series of politicised cataclysmic events stemming from misleading information diffused by some so-­called creole pioneers to fulfil their vested interests. These pioneers hurled a barrage of false accusations. For instance, the founder leader Krishak Mukti Sangram Samiti (KMSS), Mr Akhil Gogoi, presently MLA from Sivasagar constituency, misled the people of Assam that with the implementation of CAA, Hindu Bangladeshis from Bangladesh would arrive in the state, which would change the demography and the language of Assam, thus transforming the state, similar to that of Tripura. The inhabitants of the dynasty of the Tripura Kingdom were called Tipra (Debbarma, 2023). Following the partition of undivided India into Pakistan and India, and during and in the wake of the Bangladesh Liberation War 1971, Tripura witnessed a large-­scale flow of Bengali Hindu migrants from East Pakistan, which transformed the state’s demographic profile reducing the Tripuri population to a minority. Similar misguiding arguments were vociferously floated by one of the senior journalists, Mr Ajit Bhuyan, who went on to become the maiden member of Rajya Sabha by piggybacking on the Indian National Congress and AIUDF (Baruah, 2021). These creole pioneers deliberately failed to mention that the Bengali (il)legal migrants from Bangladesh speak ‘Bengali’ and are no longer a minority in the state but continue to pose staggering threats to landholdings, causing ‘silent land transfer’ from indigenous to non-­indigenous peoples. These claims are reinforced by the report titled The Committee for Protection of Land Rights of the Indigenous People of Assam (Baruah et al., 2017), which the Brahma Committee Report further buttressed on January 2018 under the leadership of former chief election commissioner Hari Shankar Brahma (Eyben, 2018a, 2018b; Sushmita, 2018). During the anti-­ CAA movement, alongside fear, anxiety, and anger, Assamese media (including social media) too played crucial roles in spreading xenophobia, especially against the Bengali Hindus. At various locations,

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  169 protests witnessed were subverted by thuggery. We argue that misinformation was a blessing in untwining spurious and fake information, further aggravating xenophobia. Evidence galore that the majority of the middle-­class and elite Assamese families are to be blamed for creating the threat to the linguistic culture by educating their children in “convent schools or high cost private English medium schools [that continue to mushroom in the state] acquir[ing] highly developed competency in English through constant exposure to the language but at the cost of cognitive academic language proficiency in the home language” (Boruah, 2023, p. 6). This is indeed the legacy of colonialism and a status symbol for education in English-­ medium schools (Bhattacharyya, 2009). At the same time, it is needless to mention that the standard of most government schools, mostly vernacular medium schools, are distressingly poor. Of course, it is not wrong to educate the children in English medium; but in doing so, most of these parents have neglected the children’s natural abilities to learn and nurture multiple languages, thereby neglecting their mother tongue skills (Assamese and other indigenous languages). Observation sadly suggests that in many middle-­ class and elite families, the mother tongue remains a colloquial language where the children in the family cannot read and write the language. Sirodin Axomiya videos developed by Mr Rrituraj Sharma and Mr Parthajeet Sarma that had short-­ term ripples stressed the colloquial language (Sirodin Axomiya, 2019; 2020), which when practised religiously and rigorously with continuous exposure would help an individual to acquire the reading and writing skills. We, however, argue that the middle class and elite, while weaponizing CAA as an asset to protest with regards to “CAA being a threat to the Assamese language and culture” have failed to realise that they themselves, to a considerable extent, are responsible for developing this threat. Equally, Asam Sahitya Sabha (formerly Axomiā Bhāxā Unnati Xādhini Xabhā), a more than a century-­old literary organisation has done very little to sustain the Assamese language and culture. As one of the oldest organisations built on the principle of developing Assamese culture and language, it should have been proactive in establishing vernacular medium schools and colleges. Agonisingly, there is not a single academic Assamese journal on the University Grants Commission (UGC)-CARE list when GU is the architect of the ‘medium of instruction movement’. In December 2019, when the state was under the teeter of horrid protests against CAA, honourable Prime Minister of India Mr Narendra Modi tweeted: I want to assure my brothers and sisters of Assam that they have nothing to worry after the passing of #CAB. I want to assure them-­no one can take away your rights, unique identity and beautiful culture. It will continue to flourish and grow. (4:28 am, 12 December 2019)26

170  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma Accordingly, the government assured to safeguard the people of Assam by implementing Clause 6 (discussed above) of the Assam Accord. Central to the implementation of Clause 6 are to define who indigenous peoples of Assam explicitly are and who an Assamese is. It is imperative to mention that the answers to these questions are indeed complex and highly sensitive. Taking the definition from the Census report 1951, Baruah et al. (2017, p.  28) defines the indigenous people of Assam as someone who belongs to the state, speaks the Assamese language or any other dialect of Assam or the tribal community, “and in the case of Cachar, the language of the region”. The vernacular term used for the indigenous population is Khilanjia. Sanmilita Mahasangha, an umbrella organisation of approximately 49 indigenous tribes of Assam, has put forward a far more radical definition of who an indigenous individual of Assam is. As Sanmilita Mahasangha argues: …indigenous persons of Assam are those who have been living in Assam continuously from 24 February, 1826, the date of Yandaboo Treaty and they alone should be termed and accepted as “indigenous “people of Assam”. In defining the term ‘Assamese’ the Maha Sangha has opined that those whose mother tongue is Assamese and have used/ spoken/ read Assamese as an associate language or lingua franca, in addition to their own language/dialects and are preaching and practicing their own culture, should be accepted as “Assamese” (taking “Assamese and “ indigenous” as interchangeable/ synonymous) for the limited purpose of receiving, or being claimant to, the privilege of the special Constitutional, Legislative and Administrative safeguards granted by the Government of India under Clause 6 of the Assam Accord, 1985. (Baruah et al., 2017, p. 29) This definition reinforces the 1981 Martínez Cobo Study of the United Nations on indigenous peoples (United Nations, n.d.). The vehement protests triggered by anti-­CAA compelled the government to take measures to safeguard the indigenous communities of Assam, following the ambiguous description of Clauses 5 and 6 of the Assam Accord. In line with the debates of NRC, in February 2020, the committee appointed by the government submitted its recommendations on the implementation of  Clause 6 of the Assam Accord, which was not made public until late Mr  Nilay Dutta, the then Arunachal Pradesh advocate general and three other members of AASU independently released the report in August 2020 (Firaque, 2020; The Indian Express, 2020). The recommendation extended the definition of Assamese beyond people speaking Assamese, including the indigenous tribal and ethnic communities, as well as the migrants (including those from erstwhile East Bengal) and their descendants who entered

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  171 Assam on or before 01 January 1951 (Firaque, 2020; The Indian Express, 2020). Clause 6 would apply to these communities. Those migrants who entered Assam after 1951 but prior to 24 March 1971 would not be considered Assamese but citizens of India. Subject to acceptance of the recommendation, the migrants (after 1951–24 March 1971) would be eligible to vote but not contest an election in 80–100% of Assam’s assembly seats and local bodies (Firaque, 2020; The Indian Express, 2020). Besides, the committee recommended 80 to 100% reservation in the parliamentary seats of Assam; reservation in jobs (80 to 100% reservation of jobs in government, semi-­ government, government undertakings, and 70 to 100% in private partnerships); and land rights (including the transfer of land only to the ‘Assamese’ people). Regarding the safeguard of the language, Assamese would continue to be the official language of the state, but in the Barak Valley, the Hill Districts, and the Bodoland Territorial Area Districts (BTAD), the respective local languages should operate as the official language. In addition, Assamese should be mandatory for recruitment in state government services; similarly, in the Barak Valley districts, BTAD and Hills Districts, the native languages of these regions should be compulsory for recruitment. For the overall development of the indigenous tribal languages (Bodo, Mishing, Karbi, Dimasa, Koch-­ Rajbongshi, Rabha, Deuri, Tiwa, Tai, and other indigenous languages), steps should be taken to establish academies (The Indian Express, 2020). Further, the Janagosthiya Samannay Parishad, Assam (JSPA), along with 17 organisations of indigenous Muslims (as discussed above), has launched an online portal—jspacensus.com—a ‘Mini Muslim Census’— ‘Mini NRC’ to segregate the migrant Bengal-­ origin Muslims from their indigenous counterparts (The Hindu, 2021). The proof of the pudding is in its tasting. Only time will tell as to what extent the recommendations to Clause 6 would safeguard the state’s indigenous communities. Notably, the Government of Assam is working in tandem with the stakeholders to incorporate the Population Control Bill/Two-­Child Policy to check the population and tackle unemployment and the state’s overall economic development (Methri, 2021). But, most importantly, to prevent infiltration, the government should work seriously to fence the 4,096-­kilometre-­long (2,545 miles) India-­ Bangladesh border. The Land Boundary Agreement (LBA) and the exchange of enclaves (chhitmahals) between India and Bangladesh was signed and ratified on 6 June 2015. This border is the world’s fifth most extended international snaking boundary, sharing 2,217 kilometres with West Bengal, 262 kilometres with Assam, 856 kilometres with Tripura, 443 kilometres with Meghalaya, and 18 kilometres with Mizoram (Jamwal, 2004).27 The complex border passes “through rivers, villages, agricultural land, and personal properties” (Banerjee and Chen, 2012, p. 4)— these borders are highly porous (Banerjee and Chen, 2012; Chattopadhyay, 2003) and need to be fenced. These are, of course, official measures. Indeed, CAA has been a wake-­ up call. Silent genocide is already on the brink.

172  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma However, the people of Assam need to take up the challenge to prevent it by “ never givi[ing] in” (Churchill, 2003, p. 307). As Churchill said: …never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never – in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. (Churchill, 2003, p. 307) Indeed, the people of Assam need to be conscious that their children and future generation learn the mother tongue and culture of the homeland alongside other languages and cultures. Notes 1 The Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, 2019. Ministry: Home Affairs. https://prsindia. org/billtrack/the-­citizenship-­amendment-­bill-­2019 2 With Calcutta (present Kolkata) as its capital, the Presidency of Fort William, or Bengal Presidency (also later came to be known as Bengal Province), was one of the divisions of the British Empire in India. The geographical jurisdiction of the Bengal Presidency covered large parts of present South Asia and South East Asia. 3 Language of Judicial and Revenue Proceedings Act No. XXIX of 1837. https:// www.indiacode.nic.in/repealed-­act/repealed_act_documents/A1837-­29.pdf 4 Works/Bible Translations. Center for Study of the Life and Work of William Carey, D.D. (1761–1834). https://www.wmcarey.edu/carey/bib/works_bible.htm 5 Asam Sahitya Sabha. https://asamsahityasabha.org/ 6 Following the establishment of the first English tea garden at Chabua in Upper Assam in 1837, the tea business began to flourish and proliferate. Initially, the tea gardeners and companies employed local Bodo-­ Kachari labourers, who were over-­exploited but were underpaid. So, the local labourers became reluctant to work in the gardens. With the development of the tea gardens in the 1850s, the British planters started facing an acute shortage of human power. Nevertheless, the availability of cheap labourers from famine-­hit regions of North West Province and Oudh (comprising Chotanagpur plateau, Kalahandi and Ganjam of Orissa, Baster, Jabalpur and Bilaspur of Madhya Pradesh, Deoria, Balia, Basti, Gazipur, Azamgarh and Gorakhpur of Uttar Pradesh, Guntur and Visakhapatnam of Andhra Pradesh, and Midnapur, Purulia, Bankura, and Burdwan of Bengal) came to them as blessings. The British tea companies started taking advantage of the situation through large-­scale recruitment of underprivileged and browbeaten victim communities of feudalism on cheap wages and fake promises. These migrant communities belong to the Mundari-­speaking group of the Austro-­Asiatic linguistic family; their migration continued until 1940 (see Das and Bhuyan, 2023; Gohain, 1980; Hossain, 2013). 7 All India Muslim League (AIML) was founded on 30 December 1906 at the Muhammadan educational conference held in Dhaka. 8 Char is a tract of flood plain surrounded by water on all sides but is much smaller in size to be called an island. They are usually formed by accretion of sediments stemming from the hydro morphological dynamics including erosion and deposition of the sands of the rivers and their tributaries (Banglapedia, n.d.). 9 Muhammed Saadulah first ruled as a chief minister from 1 April 1937 to 19 September 1938 (from the Assam Valley party in coalition with the Indian

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  173 National Congress), then from 17 November 1939 to 24 December 1941 (Assam Valley Party, AIML), and then again from 25 August 1942 to 11 February 1946 (Assam Valley Party, AIML). 10 Including indigenous Muslims. 11 The two-­nation theory was initially propounded by Choudhry Rahmat Ali in 1933, a law student at the University of Cambridge. 12 The proposal of the Cabinet Mission made three groups of undivided India: Group A comprised of the Hindu Majority provinces taking Madras (now Chennai), Bombay (now Mumbai), Orissa, and the United and the Central Provinces; Group B consisted of the northwestern Muslim majority province, the Sind and the Punjab and Group C incorporated the north-­eastern Pakistan Zone (including Bengal and Assam), where the majority of the people followed Muslim religion (Bhattacharyya, 2009, 2019; James, 1997). 13 Although the overall fertility rates of India have plummeted in recent times; when  the fertility rates are compared among the religious groups, the fertility rates among the Muslims remain highest followed by the Hindus (Kramer, 2021; Nagarajan, 2021). 14 Agreement between India and Pakistan Regarding Security and Rights of Minorities(Nehru-­Liaquat Agreement). Ministry of External Affairs. Government of India. https://mea.gov.in/TreatyDetail.htm?1228 15 Explained: The Nehru-­Liaquat Agreement of 1950, referred to in the CAB debate (2019, 12 December). The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/article/ explained/explained-­what-­was-­the-­nehru-­liaquat-­agreement-­of-­1950-­referred-­ to-­in-­the-­cab-­debate-­6162191/ 16 The States Reorganisation Act 1956 (Act no. 37 of 1956 of Parliament of India) was enacted on 31 August 1956 and came into force on 01 November 1956. This act was promulgated on the basis of the report of the Fazal Ali Commission. Accordingly, the country was reorganised into 14 states and 6 union territories (Das and Bhuyan, 2023). 17 The Assam Official Language (Amendment) Act, 1961. Assam Act No. XXIII of  1961. https://www.indiacode.nic.in/bitstream/123456789/4926/1/the_assam_ official_language_%28amendment%29_act%2c_1961._0_recognized.pdf 18 However, one can argue that the decision of making Assamese the medium of instruction failed to hold much water. This is because, following the States Reorganisation Act of 1956, the princely states of Manipur and Tripura were given the status of the union territory, and almost one and a half-­decade later, with the promulgation of the North-­Eastern Areas (Reorganisation) Act, 1971 (1971), Manipur and Tripura were established as states and the state of Meghalaya was created by carving out geographical spaces from two districts of Assam—the United Khasi Hills and Jaintia Hills and the Garo Hills on 21 January 1972. Shillong, the capital of undivided Assam, was shifted to Dispur. Both Mizoram and Arunachal Pradesh also attained the status of Union Territories on 21 January 1972 and were raised to the status of states on 20 February 1987. Earlier, Nagaland gained statehood on 01 December 1963 with the geographical space carved out from Assam and NEFA. 19 Approximately 6.2 million Indian men, perhaps mostly Hindus (due to the absence of a Uniform Civil Code) were sterilised during the one-­year period of 1975, which was 15 times higher than the number of people sterilised by the Nazis (Biswas, 2014). Sadly, the Emergency was intertwined with the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA) 1971–1977, which arrested and detained about 1,00,000 citizens (which included scholars, journalists, activists, and community members) who protested the Emergency (Indian.com Education Desk, 2015). 20 Khargeswar Talukdar was the first martyr, who succumbed to his life on 10 December 1979 due to police firing.

174  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma 21 Accord between AASU, AAGSP, and the central government on the Foreign National Issue(Assam Accord), 15 August 1985. https://peacemaker.un.org/sites/ peacemaker.un.org/files/IN_850815_Assam%20Accord.pdf 22 Mrs Indira Gandhi, the third prime minister of India, who held office on 14 January 1980, was assassinated on 31 October 1984 by her two bodyguards, Beant Singh and Satwant Singh. Her son, Mr. Rajiv Gandhi, took oath as the prime minister of the country. 23 After the Nellie genocide, the Government of Assam constituted the Tiwary commission under Section 3 of the Commission of Enquiry Act, 1952 vide Notification No. PLA/658/83/17, 14 July 1983, under TP Tiwary, a retired IAS officer to examine why and how the massacre took place from January to April 1983. The commission submitted its report in May 1984. 24 In 1986, to implement the different clauses of the Assam Accord, a new Department was lauched in the name of “Implementation of Assam Accord Department” during the year 1986. Please visit, The Assam Accord. Government of Assam: Implementation of Assam Accord. https://assamaccord.assam.gov.in/portlets/the-­ assam-­accord; please see also, History. Government of Assam: Implementation of Assam Accord.https://assamaccord.assam.gov.in/about-­us/history#:~:text=The%20 Assam%20Accord%20was%20signed%20on%2015%20th,Assam%20 Accord%20Department%20%E2%80%9D%20during%20the%20year%201986 25 The Ten Stages of Genocide. http://genocidewatch.net/genocide-­2/8-­stages-­of-­ genocide/ 26 Narendra Modi (4:28 am, 12 December 2019). Twitter.com. https://tinyurl. com/5adf9kt9 27 India, Bangladesh patrol border (2014, 14 January). The Hindu. http://www. thehindu.com/todays-­paper/tp-­national/india-­bangladesh-­patrol-­border/article 5575974.ece

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Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  177 Grierson, George Abraham (1903-­1928, compiled and edited). Vol. V. Indo-­Aryan Family. Eastern Group. Part I. Specimens of the Bengali and Assamese Languages. Linguistic Survey of India Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, India. https://dsal.uchicago.edu/books/lsi/ Grierson, George Abraham (1934). On the Modern Indo-­ Aryan Vernaculars. Reprinted from the Indian Antiquary, Vols. lx, lxi, lxii (1931–1933), p. 186. Bombay: British India Press. Guha, Amalendu (1980). Little Nationalism Turned Chauvinist: Assam’s Anti-­Foreigner Upsurge, 1979-­80. Economic and Political Weekly, 15(41/43), 1699–1718. http:// www.jstor.org/stable/4369155 Harris Green, Hannah (2018, 06 October). The Legacy of India’s Quest to Sterilise Millions of Men. Quartz India. https://qz.com/india/1414774/the-­legacy-­of-­indias-­ quest-­to-­sterilise-­millions-­of-­men/ Hazarika, Sanjoy (2018, 23 January). Who is an Assamese? Business Line: The Hindu. https://tinyurl.com/24zz87bu Hazarika, Sanjoy (2019, 06 November). Assam’s Tangled Web of Citizenship and the Importance of a Consensus. The Hindu Centre for Politics and Public Policy. https://www.thehinducentre.com/the-­arena/current-­issues/article29724344.ece Hossain, Ashfaque (2013). The Making and Unmaking of Assam-­Bengal Borders and the Sylhet Referendum. Modern Asian Studies, 47(1), 250–287. https://doi.org/10. 1017/S0026749X1200056X India.com Education Desk (2015, 26 June). Emergency in India during 1975: Atrocities and Acts during Emergency. https://www.india.com/education/ emergency-­in-­india-­during-­1975-­atrocities-­and-­acts-­during-­emergency-­1581724/ India: Act No. 39 of 1983, Illegal Migrants (Determination by Tribunals) Act, 1983, 26 December 1983. https://www.refworld.org/docid/3ae6b57b14.html James, Lawrence (1997). Raj-­The Making and Unmaking of British India. London: Abacus. Jamwal, N.S. (2004). Border Management: Dilemma of Guarding the India-­ Bangladesh Border. Strategic Analysis, 28(1), 5–36. Kalita, Prabin (2021, 3 April). Ajmal son’s ‘dadhi, topi & lungi’ salvo sends shockwaves. The Times of India. https://tinyurl.com/wank8kvt Kamrupee (1972, 05 August). Cool Behind the Noise and Funny. Economic and Political Weekly, 7 (31/31/33: Special Number). Kimura, Makiko (2013). The Nellie Massacre of 1983: Agency of Rioters. New Delhi: Sage Publications India. Kramer, Stephanie (2021, 21 September). Religious Composition of India. Pew Research Center. https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2021/09/21/religious-­ composition-­of-­india/ Methri, Gloria (2021, 10 July). Assam to Fast Track Population Control Policy; Govt To Issue Notification In Aug: CM Sarma. Republicworld.com. https://www. republicworld.com/india-­n ews/general-­n ews/assam-­t o-­f ast-­t rack-­p opulation-­ control-­policy-­govt-­to-­issue-­notification-­in-­aug-­cm-­sarma.html Mills, Andrew John Moffat (1854). Report on the Province of Assam. Calcutta Gazette Office. Calcutta: Thos. Jones. Misra, Udayan (2017). Burden of History: Assam and the Partition—Unresolved Issues. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Mullan, C.S. (1932). Census of India, 1931, Volume III, Assam, Part I.-Report. Assam. Assam Government Press, Central Publication Branch, Calcutta, Government of India.

178  Rituparna Bhattacharyya and Pranjit Kumar Sarma Muslim Census (2021, 06 February). Muslim Population in Districts of Assam. http:// muslim-­census.com/2021/02/muslim-­population-­in-­districts-­of-­assam/ Nagarajan, Rema (2021, 12 June). Assam Muslims Have Recorded Sharpest Fall in Fertility since 2005-­06: Govt data. Times of India. http://timesofindia.indiatimes. com/articleshow/83450140.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&utm_medium= text&utm_campaign=cppst Nath, Hiranya, and Nath Suresh Kumar (2010). Illegal Migration into Assam: Magnitude, Causes, and Economic Consequences. Sam Houston State University, Department of Economics and International Business, Working Paper No. 10-­06. http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1750383 Omvedt, Gail (1981, 28 March). Little Nationalism Turned Chauvinist: A Comment. Economic and Political Weekly, 16 (13), 589–590. Phukan, J.N. (2003). The Tai-­ Ahom Power in Assam. In H.K. Barpujari (Ed.) The Comprehensive History of Assam, Vol. II, pp. 49–60. Guwahati: Publication Board Assam. Pisharoty, S.B. (2019). Assam: The Accord, the Discord. New Delhi: Penguin Random House, India Private Limited. Pulla, V.R. (2022). Movies that Actually Get History: The Case and a Half of Kashmir Files: A Study in Social Blogging. Space and Culture, India, 10(1), 5–15. https://doi. org/10.20896/saci.v10i1.1265 Rangan, Baradwaj (2015, 12 September). They Remember So We Don’t Forget. The  Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/baradwaj-­rangan-­on-­ what-­the-­fields-­remember/article7641365.ece?homepage=true Ravi, R.N. (2012, 23 September). Assam Accord, a Pernicious Deception. The Statesman. https://basantipurtimes.blogspot.com/2012/09/assam-­accord-­pernicious-­ deception.html Reddi, P.S. (1981). Electoral Rolls with Special Reference to Assam. The Indian Journal of Political Science. Indian Political Science Association, 42(1), 27–37. https://www.jstor.org/stable/41855074. Rehman, Teresa (2006, 30 September). Nellie Revisited: The Horror’s Nagging Shadow. Tehelka. https://web.archive.org/web/20061111192753/http://www.tehelka. com/story_main19.asp?filename=Ne093006the_horrors.asp Robinson, William (1839). Grammar of the Asamese Language. Government Seminary, Gowhatti, Serampore Press. https://digital.soas.ac.uk/IB00000029/00001/pdf Saikia, Nandita (2019, 18 December). Citizenship Amendment Act: BJP Chasing Ghosts in Assam; Census Data Shows Number of Hindu Immigrants May Have Been Exaggerated. First Post. https://www.firstpost.com/india/citizenship-­amendment-­ bill-­bjp-­chasing-­ghosts-­in-­assam-­as-­census-­data-­shows-­number-­of-­hindu-­immigrants-­ couldve-­been-­exaggerated-­5640511.html Saikia, Yasmin (2004). Fragmented Memories: Struggling to be Tai-­Ahom in India. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Sankalpit Bharat-­Sashakt Bharat (2019). Bharatiya Janata Party, Sankalp Patra, Lok Sabha, 2019. http://library.bjp.org/jspui/bitstream/123456789/2988/1/BJP-­Election-­ english-­2019.pdf Sarma, Barnali, and Sharma, Pooza (2023). Assam in the Colonial Period. In R.  Bhattacharyya (Ed.) North East India through the Ages: A Transdisciplinary Perspective on Prehistory, History, and Oral History, pp. 112–136. New York and London: Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003157816-­5

Is Assam Under the Shackle of a Silent Genocide?  179 Sarma, P.K., and Bhattacharyya, R. (2021). Assembly Elections of India, 2021: Revisiting Assam. Space and Culture, India, 9(1), 6–28. https://doi.org/10.20896/ saci.v9i1.1189. Sharma, M.M. (2004). Assamese in Early Inscriptions. In H.K. Barpujari (Ed.) The Comprehensive History of Assam. Volume 1. Ancient Period. From the prehistoric Times to the Twelfth Century AD, p. 268. Guwahati: Publication Board Assam. Shreve, J.B. (2021, 9 September). The Silent Genocide – Guatemala’s Genocide of the  Mayans. https://theendofhistory.net/the-­silent-­genocide-­guatemalas-­genocide-­ mayan-­genocide/ Sinha, S. (n.d.). Supreme Court of India: Sarbananda Sonowal vs Union of India on 5 December 2006. https://indiankanoon.org/doc/1436100/ Singh, Bikash (2021, 30 March). There is God above and Ajmal in the ground: AIUDF chief Badruddin Ajmal. The Economic Times. https://tinyurl.com/k2zcxwrv SirodinAxomiya – চিৰদিনঅসমীয়া (2019, 31 December). -১ - How Can an NRA contribute to Assamese https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzuACesvnnQ SirodinAxomiya (2020, 11 January). চিৰদিনঅসমীয়া - ২ - এক প্ৰত্যাহ্বান : ৬০ চেকেণ্ড অসমীয়া ক�োৱাৰ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9V0AEnByGE Summary by Language Size (2022, 07 May). Ethnologue: Languages of the World. https://web.archive.org/web/20190312060544/https://www.ethnologue.com/ statistics/size Sushmita (2018, 19 May). Brahma Committee Redefines Basic Elements of ‘Indigenous’ Individual to Assam. CJP. https://cjp.org.in/brahma-­committee-­redefines-basic-­ elements-­of-­indigenous-­individual-­to-­assam/ The Assam Official Language Act, 1960, (1960, 19 December). Assam Act No. XXXIII of 1960. https://www.indiacode.nic.in/bitstream/123456789/4925/1/the_ assam_official_language_act%2c_1960._0_recognized.pdf The Assam Tribune (2008, 19 February). 83 Polls were a Mistake: KPS Gill. https://web. archive.org/web/20120207000801/http://www.assamtribune.com/scripts/details. asp?id=feb1908%2Fat02 The Citizenship Act, 1955 (1955, 30 December). Act No. 57 of 1955 https:// indiancitizenshiponline.nic.in/UserGuide/Citizenship_Act_1955_16042019.pdf The Hindu (2005, 14 July). IMDT Act is the Biggest Barrier to Deportation, says Supreme Court. https://web.archive.org/web/20110514050935/http://www.hindu. com/2005/07/14/stories/2005071405551200.htm The Hindu (2021, 15 April). Online census of Assamese Muslims launched. https:// www.thehindu.com/news/national/online-­census-­of-­assamese-­muslims-­launched/ article34325747.ece The Indian Express (2020, 11 August). Explained: What is Clause 6 of Assam Accord? https://indianexpress.com/article/explained/explained-­what-­is-­clause-­6-­of-­assam­accord-­6550486/ The North-­Eastern Areas (Reorganisation) Act, 1971 (1971, 30 December 1971). Act No. 81 of 1971. https://www.indiacode.nic.in/bitstream/123456789/1534/1/ 197181.pdf Trivedi, V.R. (1995). Documents on Assam, Part – A. New Delhi: Omsons Publications. United Nations (n.d.). Indigenous Peoples at the United Nations. Department of Economic and Social Affairs Indigenous Peoples. https://tinyurl.com/yc3babcm

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8 ‘Recovering Violent Pasts’ Revisiting Moments of Xenophobic Violence and Uprooting from Partitioned North-East India Binayak Dutta Reflecting on Amnesia and Absence of Assam Political and academic focus on genocidal processes, persecution, and displacement of minorities from East Pakistan, post-partition has been few and far between, and it is only recent realizations about the prolonged partition experience of the East that have forced the Indian state to engage with the genocidal process of eastern violence and its fallouts. In seven decades, it was only the second time in 2019 that Parliament engaged with a dedicated national debate on violence and its consequences in Eastern Pakistan, now Bangladesh, through the Citizenship (Amendment) Bill 2019, now act, known in short form as CAA 2019. The act was promised first in 2014 and reasserted in the 2019 manifesto of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The BJP also promised it in the Assam elections manifesto of 2016. Though its attempts to pass it in the Parliament in 2016 and 2019 in the beginning of the year fizzled out, its return to power in May 2019 with an overwhelming majority in the Lok Sabha facilitated the passage of the act. The first serious attempt to debate violence in East Pakistan was undertaken in parliament preceding the passage of the Immigrants (Expulsion from Assam) Act 1950.1 Though over the last seven decades and more, there has been a steady stream of xenophobia and violence-induced displacement across the international borders from East-Pakistan/Bangladesh into India (Azad, 2003), there persisted a systematic denial of this violent reality in view of the Indian state attaching more importance to Punjab over the eastern experience (Chakrabarti, 1999). From the birth of Pakistan on 14 August, 1947, ethnic and religious minorities in East Pakistan were very precarious as, unlike in the west, a substantial section of minorities persisted in lingering at their ancestral homes. But as xenophobia, violence, and persecution became institutional, there was a steady exodus of non-Muslims into India. Hindus, who constituted 31 percent of the total population in East Pakistan in 1947, were reduced to 22 percent in 1951 (Barkat, 2008). As people migrated, the eastern states of India bordering Pakistan faced a crisis. One of the epicentres of intense activity was Assam. Yet, for historians, till recently Assam was a forgotten site of Indian partition history. The primary reasons DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-8

182  Binayak Dutta for this selective amnesia have been twofold. First, the hegemonic nature of the secular ideology of the Indian state dominated over the society where histories of violence were seen as undesirable to national interests of ‘unity’ and ‘integrity’ (Bhattacharyaa, 2008) and hence left undiscussed. Second, the ethnic antagonism between the Assamese and the Bengali in the Brahmaputra Valley ensured the denial and subversion of such narratives. But in India, violence was an inevitable part of the construction of victimhood in India post-partition, and the Punjabis successfully constructed their claims for rehabilitation on its basis. But for the violence affected in Eastern India, of which Assam was a part, it needed many more rounds of genocidal violence to revive debates on the xenophobic violence and recover the eastern narrative. Like Punjab, where scholars (Butalia, 2000) working through riots and genocides since 1984 in contemporary India began to revive debates on partition of India, carnages like Nellie in Assam in 1983 (Gupta, 1984; Kimura, 2013), the massacre of Bengali-speaking non-Bodos in Bodoland in 2012 (Pathak, 2012), and the recently concluded NRC2 related deaths between 2016 and 2019 became moments when violence in partition and post-partition Assam recovered focus of national attention to resist what Pierre Nora called, attempts “…to annihilate what has in reality taken place” (Nora, 1989). Unfortunately, most scholars who have begun working on Assam since the last two decades have not contributed much to exploring this violent history through the prism of Sylhet. On the contrary, recent scholarship have only added to the recovery of violence and genocide, with assertions that “… the state did not recognize that subtle forms of violence was ‘violent enough’ to force the minorities to migrate” (Ghoshal, 2021, p. 245). It is important to assert that Assam’s independent position within partition historiography in India through the partition of the district of Sylhet remains seminal towards understanding the nature of ‘violent displacement’ itself with all its complexity. The partition of the East, especially Assam, offers interesting sites to also understand the experiences of partition violence by the various ethnic indigenous groups such as the Khasi and Jaintia (affected by the partition of Sylhet) on the one hand and Garo and the Hajongs (affected by incorporation of Mymensingh into East Pakistan) on the other. The idea of reinviting focus to partition and post partition xenophobic violence from north-east India provides a background to understand displacement experiences and narratives across the Indo-Bangla border in this frontier region of the Indian subcontinent that affects the region even today. The Sylhet Referendum Experience: Setting the Xenophobic Violent Foundation The decision of the colonial government to finally quit India made evident that like Punjab and Bengal colonial Assam was also to be partitioned. But Assam was a singular experience as the partition process concerned, not the province as a whole but only the south Assam district of Sylhet, through a

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  183 referendum. For the Muslim League, having resolved the Punjab and Bengal, Sylhet in Assam was their last battle ground. The Star of India, dated 4 July 1947, carried reports of an important Muslim League leader observing, “so the first and the last battle of Pakistan will be fought in Sylhet”. The chief secretary of Assam noted in his fortnightly report dated 18 June 1947 that Muslim League “tactics are reminiscent of those adopted by the Nazis in Sudetenland and capable of producing undesirable effects and risk that the referendum may be prejudiced …” with ‘terror’ becoming an integral element of the League campaign. Fieldworkers recounted about “threats and physical intimidation liberally applied by the Mussalmans on the Hindu minority”. Acutely uncomfortable with the philosophy of Pakistan, the Hindus of Sylhet were conscious that they would be the minorities in the new state of East Pakistan and were especially insecure represented by the use of words such as ‘bhoi’/santrash’ or terror. Communal tension had become a part of Sylheti social life. In an essentially primordial society where holding of land was an important component of status, the people of Eastern Bengal and Sylhet were conscious of the importance of retaining their hold over their ancestral land. But when partition finally came, they preferred to leave their ‘desher bari’ and flee to India. Palie ashte hoyechilo (we had to flee and come), was what Labanga Devi (name changed on request), presently residing in Guwahati, recounted of those difficult days. Sushil Babu (name changed on request) pointed out that, while threats, xenophobia, violence, and intimidation held the field during the Referendum, the threats held good even in the post-Referendum days. The report of the Referendum commissioner, retained at the National Archives of India, clearly pointed out that The National Guards penetrated into the remotest village and created panic in the minds of the non-Muslim villagers Xenophobic violence in Sylhet was just not a tactics of psychological warfare in a contest; it became an everyday practice of league fieldworkers. Reports of violent mob behaviour were also reported from Amtoil voting centre of South Sylhet, where the police opened fire. These were also reported to the highest levels at London (Dutta, 2009–2010). Post-Referendum Sylhet: Tales of Horror Violence intertwined with xenophobia in Sylhet was an experience common to both sides in the battle, but it was overwhelming on those that supported the retention of Sylhet in India, which increased manifold after the Referendum came to a close. Post-Referendum Sylhet was a fertile ground of opposing emotions. While, on the one side was fear, suspicion, and hate and violence, on the other side was jubilation, victory celebrations, and licentious behaviour of League supporters. While the League supporters celebrated on the

184  Binayak Dutta streets with processions and fireworks and observed ‘Thanks giving Day’, as a public expression of jubilation, the Star of India in its edition of 16 and 18 July 1947 reported that at the grassroots the League workers shouted provocative slogans and intimidated the minorities (Bagchi & Dasgupta, 2003, p. 169): 19.7.1947 … the law-and-order situation was worsening. The exuberance of the Muslim League at the creation of Pakistan sounded like threats to the minority community. Community relationship between the two communities – the Hindus and the Muslims rapidly deteriorated. The threats by local Muslim Mirasdars or local substantial landholders of Sylhet to the Hindu peasants and professional classes were fresh in the minds of the residents. Thus, when the results of the Referendum came in, it opened the floodgates of retribution and revenge. The Dawn, a pro League newspaper reported in its 5 July 1947 issue that Muslim League successfully intimidated and absorbed the Jamiat leadership in Sylhet into its ranks. The intolerance of the League aggravated after the Referendum. While the Hindus had every reason to be suspect and intimidated, even the Jamiat ul Ulama I Hind–supporter Muslims opposing the League were not spared, which, in turn, heightened the Hindu insecurity. Late Mahesh Babu (name changed on request), hailing from Sunamganj, recollected that Jamiati workers in Sunamganj were paraded throughout the town on donkey back with turtle shell garlands around their neck. As the League resorted to killing and humiliation of Muslims who were in opposite camps, the condition of the Hindus worsened. The League supporters spared no effort at intimidating the Hindus in the interior areas of the Sylhet District, during the Referendum and beyond. Police reports that were filed after the Referendum process was completed noted, “conditions in Sylhet are very insecure and general intimidation at the behest of Muslim National Guards continue” (Chakraborty, 2004). The Muslim National Guards who numbered more than 15,000 in Sylhet during the Referendum became the instruments for League intimidation. Another police report noted: armed bands move about and threaten vengeance on those who might have voted against joining East Bengal. (Chakraborty, 2004) Those who represented the losers in this tussle were greatly apprehensive, terrorized, and traumatized in this atmosphere. They were precariously poised between their past as obedient Congress workers and the uncertain future. The Sylhet Referendum represented a critical moment for the

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  185 pro-India residents of Sylhet, who constituted a small group of diehard Jamiati Muslims who would not succumb to the League brand of Islamic politics and the Hindus in general, commonly identified as ‘Kafers (Chakraborty, 2004)’. The tension of the moment was captured by Suhasini Das, who observed: 14.7.1947 … at night, I talked to the neighbours. They were all worried that the League could be planning some mischief. They were especially worried about protecting the womenfolk. (Bagchi & Dasgupta, 2003, p. 169) The launch of a witch-hunt to punish the opponents of the Muslim League, by the Muslim League leadership with the active participation of the Muslim League National guards, led to almost all the prominent pro-India campaign leaders fleeing Sylhet by the time partition was actually effected on 15 August 1947, which had a back-breaking impact on the morale of the Hindus of the district. The flight of people from their homes was also captured by the Gandhian leader, Suhasini Das, as she noted: when people close to me decided to leave Sylhet, tears flooded my eyes … people were leaving Pakistan in search of safe havens elsewhere … The empty houses stared back at us in despair … Some thieves were freely looting these empty houses. Nobody stopped them. (Bagchi & Dasgupta, 2003, p. 171) Lawlessness had become the law of the day, and the minority civil society lay terrorized and marginalized. In post-referendum Sylhet, the security of the womenfolk became an important consideration in the deciding of the need for displacement. Primordial societies as the Indian, attached considerable importance to inviolability of women, who were the most valuable repositories of family honour in patriarchal society. Though women played little role in the actual decision to move, concern for their security became a potent justification for the patriarchs to move out of their ancestral homes. The ‘concept of honour’ was intimately connected to women’s security, and, therefore, threat to women and their honour was the best way to traumatize society. This sentiment also found an echo in the diary of Suhasini Das, who noted that all the people in her area were engrossed in their worry of “protecting the womenfolk” (Bagchi & Dasgupta, 2003). Community experiences of an earlier age became proverbial and swept across minds as the menfolk made hurried moves to move to safe locations and save the honour and life of the women in the family. The predatory tones of the Muslim peasants in the rural areas made life unbearable for the people. Hashi Devi (name changed on request), belonging to an affluent family, of Jinarpur of the Deogarh pargana of Habiganj

186  Binayak Dutta subdivision, recounted tales of rising militancy of the Muslim rural folk led by the Muslim National guards, and threw light on social transformation of Sylhet after the Referendum. She recollected: … when the Referendum was completed our own peasantry used to attack our house with cries of ‘drive out the Hindus, drive out the Hindus’, adding at times ‘Drive out the people of the Zamindars family’. But what was worse was that the more adventurous peasants would shout ‘capture the Hindu women’. My father realised that it was no longer possible to protect our life and honour and decided to move out of our ancestral house in the village and move to our house in Habiganj, from which I was shifted swiftly to my husband’s house in Shillong. Contemporary accounts pointed out that though Pakistan was “not an exclusive Muslim country … a large part of its population belongs to other faiths, yet the religion of one community has been accepted as the ideology of the new state” (Guha, 1951). The Muslim League activists began to propagate that Pakistan was an exclusive zone for the Muslims where the others had no place. They indulged in terror as a means of fulfilling their “holy duty to evict the kafers (i.e., Hindus) from Sylhet (which was now a part of East Pakistan) before it is too late” (Chakraborty, 2004). The predominance of this sentiment in the post-Referendum days in Sylhet is borne out in Suhasini Das’s account as well, when she noted: The Muslim League was going about telling people that only Muslims would be welcome in the new nation. The others were dispensable. (Bagchi & Dasgupta, 2003, p. 169) Narratives and newspaper accounts of the period indicate sudden loss of intimacy and outbreak of violence in various parts of Sylhet immediately after its transfer to Pakistan. The Dawn, an ostensibly pro-Pakistan newspaper, observed that communal disturbances had broken in areas of the Lakhai Thana. Reports of deployment of local police to stop the movement of people from neighbouring areas such as Kishoreganj and Brahmanbaria point to the existence of cross-district participation in the violence and its immense magnitude. The Dawn – dated 27 August 1947 – quoted the deputy commissioner of Sylhet, Khan Bahadur Habib Ali, that there were reports of the presence of troops in the disturbed areas, with orders to open fire on violent mobs if necessary. The same newspaper, the next day reported: …reports of unrest and lawlessness are reaching Shillong from the Habiganj division of Sylhet district. Congress, League and Communist leaders are touring the disturbed areas……the government of Assam has declared certain areas in assam, adjacent to Sylhet as disturbed area.

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  187 After partition, such incidents were recurrent, but received little attention from the government despite complaints being filed at the highest levels by the minority leadership in East Pakistan. Xenophobia, violence, and violation of the Hindu minorities acquired a regular pattern between 1947 and 1950 and continued on varied scales and in varied forms with occasional smatterings of a large conflagration. While violence broke out on a large scale at Habiganj in 1947, in 1948 it was the turn of Noagaon. On the night of 11 February, about 1,200 Muslims attacked the Kaibarta3 locality to take revenge for a failed attack on them about six months earlier. The mob scared the villagers, who were mostly women and children, by bursting crackers and shouts of the Muslim religious war cry of Allah Ho Akbar and set the houses on fire (Roy, 2012). Life and property of the Hindu minorities were under threat and was raised for extensive discussion at ministerial and official levels between April and December 1948. Threats and intimidations of the non-Muslim minorities were a part of both official and popular programmes at Sylhet, and it took various forms. Jogendra Mandal, in his resignation letter addressed to Liaquat Ali Khan, specifically refers to the cases of xenophobia and violence against the Hindus, especially the scheduled castes who had stayed on at Sylhet after partition. Arguing that the life of the scheduled caste Hindus of Habiganj District was brutally insecure, Mandal pointed out: Their “women were ravished, their houses raided and properties looted by the police and the local Mussalmans. The military pickets posted in the area not only oppressed these people and took away foodstuff forcibly from Hindu houses but also forced the Hindus to send their womenfolk at night to the camp to satisfy the carnal desire of the military.” (Jurist Commission, 1965, p. 360) Apart from physical violence, the violation would also extend to the indiscriminate requisition of Hindu houses of the other towns of Sylhet. Dacoity, forced conversions, forced marriages, and abductions became a part of rural life. Raids and violation of Hindu Houses were also common. The large-scale requisition of Hindu property, across East Pakistan, left no doubt about official support to efforts at making the lives of urban Hindus uncomfortable and conveying a message to them to leave their homes and hearth. By the close of 1949 and beginning of 1950, the communal situation in East Pakistan was volatile and precarious. Aggravated by continuous outpourings of a local militia, Ansar propaganda, mob violence broke out in Biani Bazar and Barlekha police station areas in Sylhet (Kamra, 2000). In February 1950, matters reached a crescendo when the East Pakistani media in collusion with the ruling political leadership in East Pakistan launched an attack on the minority community leaders of inciting communal passion and unrest in East Pakistan. Within days of the launch of this campaign, as the chief secretaries of East Pakistan and West Bengal met at Dacca, riots broke out in East Pakistan based on rumours that thousands of Muslims had been killed and

188  Binayak Dutta hundreds of women molested in West Bengal. In the frenzy that followed, the riots spread to almost all the districts of East Pakistan, including Sylhet. While riots broke out in Dacca on 7 February 1950, it reached Sylhet by the 11th. A memorandum submitted to Liaquat Ali Khan, the Pakistani prime minister on his visit to Dacca in March 1950, by the Hindu minority leaders of East Pakistan noted that by 11February the local Ansar (local militia) leaders were indulging in speeches that bordered on extreme incitement and provocation (Jurist Commission, 1965). Their newspaper, ANSAR, detailed acts of forcible conversion of Hindus in the rural areas of Sylhet by Muslim crowd led by local maulvis.4 Real trouble started in Sylhet town on 13 February and continued unabated till the 16th. Official reports recorded as many as 60 cases of stabbing, which led to the death of the victims, and rampant arson, which led to burning of about 10 to 12 houses in the town. Violence also rapidly spread to the rural areas within the Sadar, Biswanath, Chatak, Fenchuganj, Balaganj, and Golapganj police stations. In all these cases, the memorandum observed that large number of Hindu villages were attacked and completely destroyed. Hindu girls were abducted and raped. There was mass conversion of Hindus which followed a set pattern. A few mullahs would first visit the village and ask the Hindus to save themselves by embracing Islam. This was followed by certain symbolic rituals, for instance Brahmins being made to tear their sacred thread and recite the Kalma or the basic prayer in Islam. Any show of resistance was met with mob violence of looting and burning the village, killing of people, and abduction of women. The memorandum further elucidates that, in the first part of February, several Muslim leaders of Sylhet town engaged in extensive propaganda about acts of communal violence that were supposed to have broken out in West Bengal and Karimganj subdivision5 of the Cachar District of Assam and called on the Muslims of Sylhet to take revenge (Choudhury, 2021; Dutta Pathak, 2017). On 10 February, which was a bazaar day and a Friday, a large graphic and provocative placard6 was  hung on a strategically located light-post in the Bandar Bazar Road of Sylhet town which intended to incite the Muslims into violence. This placard attracted the attention of those who visited the area and predictably an agitated mob gathered around it. On the 11th, a public meeting was held which was marked by the attendance of Muslim leaders, some of whom delivered inflammatory speeches. On the 12th, rumour spread around the town that AK Fazlul Haque (son of former premier of Bengal and a prominent Muslim League leader in East Pakistan) had been assassinated in Calcutta. Violence broke out on the 13th in the town and quickly spread to the rural areas. This violence was of unprecedented scale and, as in the case of 1948 riots, began by targeting those who belonged to the lower castes in the district. If in 1948 it was the Kaibartas, in 1950 it was the Naths (Choudhury, 2021). In Manikpur, 25 houses of the Nath (weaver) community were looted. In the Jalapur area, all the Hindu houses in the villages of Senagram, Ajmatpur, and Daspara were looted and deities and idols were destroyed. At Lal Bazar, all the Hindu shops were looted and houses in the

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  189 neighbouring villages were burnt; similar fate awaited the Hindu shops at Rakhalganj Bazar. While most of the Hindu houses in villages Jhapa and Samalsasan were looted, all the Hindu houses at the Steamer Ghat at Fenchu Ganj were burnt down. In Maijgaon and Machnabahar, several Hindu houses were looted and burnt. Within Bagalganj police station, several Hindu houses were looted in Sukanpur, Madhurai, and Kathalkair villages, while conversion of Hindus to Islam took place on a large scale in its neighbouring villages (Jurist Commission, 1965). Looting of Hindu houses also took place at a large number within the Golapganj police station. Reports of abduction of Hindu girls was also recorded from the village Dakshinbhag within the Golapganj police station. And when the girls were returned the next day in a precarious condition, they had to be hospitalized. All the Hindu houses of Dandapanipur,7 Krishnapur, Kurma, Rajaganj-Akhra, Singerkatch-Akhra, Bulchandergaon, Satpara, Mahabatpur. and Tukerkandi, located within Biswanath Thana, were looted. A large number of murders also took place in these areas, and death threats were made to carry out conversions (Jurist Commission, 1965). Jiten Babu (name changed on request), hailing from Purkayastha para in Sylhet, recounted during my interface with him, “the Muslims living near our house at Jugotila, near Sylhet town, set our house on fire”. In view of this unprecedented violence and violations, Hindu residents of Sylhet, reluctantly and with a heavy heart, shifted to India. Civil society was already polarized, and recollections, both published and otherwise, refer to the deep mistrust that spread among the Hindus and the Muslims. “Our classmates looked at us as enemies and we were apprehensive of the Muslims, anticipating an attack on our lives”, is how one of the respondents, Sushil Babu (name changed on request), remembered those years, but tales of violence had even larger impacts, as it has in contemporary societies. Biren Babu (name changed on request) recollected that there were large processions of slogan shouting Mussalman which intimidated the Hindus, forcing them to huddle together in homes. He recollected that there was a terrible carnage in a neighbouring village of Lakhanaband, where Mussalman crowds were on a rampage, the most horrible incident being the brutal killing of all the men in a Brahmin family, and the crowd carried away two of their womenfolk. The situation in the rural areas were even more precarious than the towns, which also saw large-scale riots. This was one of the many incidences which shook the conscience of the Hindu population in East Pakistan and India, when many of the Hindu men went back to their ancestral village to bring back those who had remained in the ‘desher bari’ or ancestral home. One incident gave rise to hundred apprehensions, and thousands were willing to leave their homes. While, politically, the riots and vandalism had deep-rooted impacts, the cultural assaults were even more acute. One of the letters addressed to Babu Rajendra Prasad, retained at the National Archives of India, which pointed out that “Hindus out of fear were giving up-wearing dhotis and were taking to wearing lungis”, was a very significant statement beyond just its immediate sartorial content and contexts.

190  Binayak Dutta The ‘Unsuspecting Victims’ beyond Hindu-Muslim The Dawn reported that even before the partition was affected, the Partition Council was seized with the problem of displacement and refugee-hood of thousands of Hindus, who were leaving their homes due to the deteriorating law and order situation. But there was no attempt to engage with the experiences of the ethnic-indigenous communities who also cohabited those areas which fell to the scalpel of partition in 1947 along the Indo-Pakistan borders on the east. Partition of Bengal and Assam in 1947, culminating in the Radcliffe Line of 1947, which not only divided the Hindus and Muslims of this region on religious and ethnic lines but also divided the smaller ethnic  communities like the Khasis, Garos, Hajongs, Rabhas, Karbis KochRajbongshis, the Reangs, and the Chakmas, to name a few. The initial scheme of partition completely bypasses the indigenous communities like the tribes of the region which also shared space with the Hindus and Muslims in the partitioned geo-spaces. Cyrill Radcliffe, the Referendum ommissioner of the Sylhet Referendum, was categorical in asserting, “… In my view, … neither the Garo Hills, nor the Khasi-Jaintia Hills nor the Lushai Hills have anything have anything approaching a Muslim majority of population in respect of which a claim could be made” (Mansergh, 1983, p. 756). But such assertions did not reflect the situation on the ground as both Sylhet and Mymensingh, which were to be incorporated into East Pakistan, were also the home of many indigenous tribal communities, the Khasi- Jaintia and Garo tribes being among the prominent. Both the colonial and the post-colonial leadership were willing to accommodate the disruptive nature of the cartographic exercise called ‘partition’ and ignored claims of boundary readjustments along ethnic lines. As for the Garos, the claims of the Garo leader Mikat Sangma ‘to shift the Pakistani border across Mymensingh by 30 miles’ was completely ignored by both the colonial and the Indian-Pakistani state despite the line separating ‘people who are ethnically one’ and division of the land occupied by the Garos into two zones, one of which is in Pakistan (Bertrand, 1958). The Garos were not alone in this area. Besides the Garos, there were the Hajongs as well. The drawing of border not only brought untold misery by dividing their homeland but also created unprecedented social friction and communal antagonism because of the settlement of non-indigenous communities in their lands. Loss of property, and disruption of communication also endangered their connection with their kinsmen who were located on the ‘wrong’ side of the border. The systematic settlement of Bengali settlers in the hill areas of the Garo-inhabited lands of Mymensingh spiralled into unprecedented violence and systematic riots leading to large-scale displacement of the Garo and Hajongs into Garo Hills in India. Almost immediately after the formation of Pakistan, like other non-Muslims in East Pakistan, the Garos were ideologically and culturally marginalized as they were gradually beset with the problem of actual physical violence perpetrated by the ordinary Muslims living in the various localities of East Pakistan. Though they were

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  191 numerically very small, about 40,000 living in the border areas, “fear and insecurity became a constant factor in the life of Bengal’s Garos …The Leaders of the Muslim League spoke openly that everyone in East Pakistan had to become Muslim” (Bal, 2007). Robbins Burling (2008), an American anthropologist working among the Garos, pointed out: what the Garos have come to call ‘the first riot’ began in December 1964 when hundreds of landless peasants were dumped in the Garo areas of north Mymensingh. … they resorted to thievery, and then they began to terrorize the people among whom they had been dumped… Animals and grain were stolen; some houses were burnt. Women were raped; some people were beaten, a few were killed, terror spread through the settled villages… The Garo living everywhere in Bangladesh felt insecure. Even some of those who lived far from the border decided to flee to India. (Raha & Ghosh, 2008, p. 359) While the ideology of Pakistan as a theocratic state and hardships at their native land prepared them for displacement, the statements made by the Indian leaders addressed to the minorities across the borders held much promise of prosperity and welcome.8 But in fact, migration of the Garo and Hajong refugees started in January 1964 as the first wave of Garo refugees “entered the Garo Hills of Assam on the 18th of January, 1964”. According to press reports, by February, about 80,000 refugees had crossed into Assam. Depositions before commissions of enquiry point out that “Muslims used to come and take whatever they wanted without the house owner’s permission”. Jisu Sangma, one of the Garo refugees from Nalitabari, pointed out: when he used to go out for work they used to come to his house and harass his wife and daughters. The Muslim miscreants tried to abduct his daughters. They wanted to marry his daughter Kona Sangma. As there was no alternative left, he had to leave Pakistan and come to India. He crossed the border on 8th February, 1964. The depositions of Kulodini Sangma, Ganendra Hajong, and Phulchand Hajong were no different from Jisu (Jurist Commission, 1965). The Census Report 1951 (Vaghaiwalla, 1951), observed that, following the Noakhali Riots, in October 1946, there had been an almost steady and continuous exodus of the Hindus of Pakistan into Assam. According to a census taken in July 1949, there were 24,600 families of displaced persons in Assam or approximately 114,500 persons: Soon after the 1949 Refugee Census occurred, the incidences of Soneswar and Habiganj, the oppression of the Hajongs in Northern Mymensingh … Then came the gruesome incidents over large areas of

192  Binayak Dutta East Pakistan in February-March 1950, especially Dacca. These led to the inevitable result, viz, the desertion by hundreds and thousands of Hindus in East Pakistan of their hearths and homes to seek shelter in the neighboring districts of West Bengal and Assam whichever was nearer. (Census of India Vol. XII, 1951, p. 357) The number of displaced people almost touched about half a million by April 1950. A large number of displaced people preferred to settle down in Assam. The Census of 1951 revealed that 259,946 persons settled in plains and only 14,509 persons moved to the hill areas (Census of Assam, 1951, p. 357). The political situation in East Pakistan only contributed to the inflow of more Hindu refugees into Assam. As against 273,000 refugees in the Census of 1951, the number of refugees returned in 1961 Census was 628,000. Apart from xenophobia, physical violence, and intimidation, economic genocide was an active policy of the new Pakistani government adopted against the minorities especially the scheduled castes and indigenous communities residing at Sylhet. This policy was first implemented against the Namasudras of Habiganj, immediately after partition in 1947, where the fishing nets of the fisherfolk were burnt by the League volunteers along with their homes (Seminar, 510, p. 45). The Pakistan government’s decision to seal the international Indo-Pak border had similar effects on the Khasi-Jaintia of the border areas who depended on Sylhet for supplies of rice and salt (Laloo, 2018). Partition and the amalgamation of Sylhet with East Pakistan caused “a virtual economic blockade of the Khasi hills” (Rustomji, 1973, p. 111). The movement of goods were initially discouraged and subsequently stopped from moving between Khasi-Jaintia hills and East Pakistan. While the KhasiJaintia people of the hills found themselves cut away from their kinsmen in the plains, they were also reduced to penury without a market for their agricultural produce and mineral resources. Trade, which amounted to more than Rs 3 crore annually in the pre-partition days, came to a standstill, which resulted in the tribal communities residing at the borders between Khasi Hills and Sylhet being brought to the brink of starvation (Snaitang, 1997, p. 170). The affected in the Khasi Hills district amounted to about 80,000 people and about 16,000 households. This resulted in large-scale migration of people from these border areas to new settlements selected for their relocation in the Ri-Bhoi region of present Meghalaya (Snaitang, 1997, p. 175). Border areas across the Khasi-Jaintia Hills were neither safe nor secure. A recent study by Faith Elwin Kharbuli, through extensive fieldwork among the displaced Khasi-Jaintia people in villages along the Indo-Bangladesh border, makes a case about violent experiences of the indigenous communities between 1947 and 1971. Kharbuli refers to one such case: Beidum Sucheng from Dawki, Jaintia hills, who was about twelve years old when the partition took place, who recalled how her mother was

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  193 arrested for about 15 days, when she was caught crossing the border to sell her goods which included tobacco, soap, betel-leaves and milk, which was seized by the Pakistani authorities. (Kharbuli, 2020) Perhaps the most extensive violence of partition in the Khasi-Jaintia borderland had to do with economic genocide. With partition the people’s access to the agricultural lands on the other side came to an end. Cultivable agricultural lands along the border were neglected for many years because of border disputes. Numerous cultivators found that they had become separated from their most valuable source of income – land. Land owners found that the borders ran between their homes and their fields. Working the land on the other side of the border continued to be a common practice but there were several problems. Many of the people had to make a decision on whether to give up their lands or to move across the border to keep them. (Kharbuli, 2020) H. Pinesingh Temthai from Nongjri in East Khasi Hills, who was about 12  years old when the partition took place, recalls how Pakistani officials harassed him and his family for crossing the border to work on their fields, which became part of Pakistan. He recounts how their Sirdar advised them to leave their agricultural lands and settle on the Indian side of the border. Similarly, when partition took place, Kalet Lamin from Dawki, who was about 15 years old, states that “they had to abandon most of their lands in Pakistan and settle on the Indian side as they were continuously harassed by Pakistani nationals” (Kharbuli, 2020). Conclusion Despite the passage of seven decades and more since partition of the subcontinent, attempts to write about xenophobia and violence in Indian history are fraught with grave risks. On the one hand, there is no clarity about understanding that violence and genocide cannot have a universal standard. In the context of the Eastern India, of which Assam is a part, it is important to attempt the same. Meghna Guha Thakurta appropriately argues that “violence is not always to be measured by external acts of murder, loot or abduction. … violence also typifies a state where a sense of fear is generated and perpetrated in such a way as to make it systemic, pervasive and inevitable” (Guha Thakurta, 2002, p. 55). This is an interesting and realistic perspective to adopt while rewriting the history of prolonged eastern genocide. While there is no doubt that there are fears of rekindling old wounds, revisitation of the history of violent partition appears inevitable where violence has been endemic to the discourse of rehabilitation in post-colonial India. Evidence of

194  Binayak Dutta violent uprooting has been central to any claim to rehabilitation of people from Pakistan, in India institutionalized by the Immigrants (Expulsion of Assam) Act 1950. Enacted by Indian Parliament, provisio to section 2(b) of the act, provides that persons migrating to India “on account of civil disturbance or the fear of such disturbances in any area now forming Pakistan…” alone could be treated as a legal migrant to India from those areas constituting Pakistan, and the persons so migrating would not be treated as illegal immigrants and expelled or deported out of India. After partition, Sylhet and East Bengal became East Pakistan, and lakhs of refugees migrated to India between 1947 and 1971. While the formal process of transfer of power and freedom from colonial yoke have been documented in Indian and colonial archives and in the history textbooks with clinical care, a study of popular experiential history and the history of violence post-partition continues to await focus. The fragmentary nature of the memories of the ‘victims’, render the construction of the holistic picture of the process of partition and trauma of the ‘victims’ of the east an uphill task. Yet, it would not be proper to conclude the writing of the history of decolonization without attempting to integrate forgotten communities’ experiences of violence with it. While partition created victims, victimization of the partition ‘survivors’ in the East have continued in the North-Eastern states. These new experiences have led the displaced millions, who had migrated to this region, to engage in a process of ‘denial’ of their ‘refugee hood’. The unresolved state of international boundaries of this region, post-partition problems over minority management by post-colonial nation states, and the inability of the states to complete the process of rehabilitation of partition-displaced people and refugees alike even after 74 years of partition have combined to keep partition alive in popular consciousness. A renewed appreciation of violent history of partition and displacement has become more critical today with the renewal of agitated and animated debates on the questions of citizenship and illegal immigration with the National Register of Citizens (NRC) imbroglio in Assam and the Citizenship (Amendment) Act 2019. There is no denying that the trauma of these partition- and post-partition-displaced people and their violent experiences are far from over. But that it is one issue that the Indian state and the governments in north-east of India are waking up to. Notes 1 This is a very significant legislation as it created the basis to create an intelligible differentia between persecuted refugees from East Pakistan and illegal immigrant economic opportunity seekers. In Section 2 of the act, it was clearly pointed out that persecuted migrants (referred to as refugees) would not be expelled from Assam. 2 NRC, or the National Register of Citizens, was suggested to be compiled as a comprehensive citizens databank for Assam by the All-Assam Students Union (AASU) in early 1980s as a way out of anti-immigration conundrum that Assam

‘Recovering Violent Pasts’  195 was in from 1979 to 1985. This suggestion was finally accepted in the tripartite meeting between Government of India, State Government of Assam, and AASU to  take stock of the implementation of the Assam Accord. As the process got underway, the pilot project led to violence, and it was temporarily put on hold. A petition was preferred before the Supreme Court in 2009, which finally decided in 2014 that the NRC should be completed in a time-bound manner. The process became very contentious, leading to a large number of suicides. The Citizenship (Amendment) Act was gazetted on the 12 December 2019 and was promulgated to exempt the migrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Bangladesh belonging to Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist, Jain, Parsi, and Christian faiths, who had entered India on or before 31 December 2014, from prosecution as illegal immigrants under the Passport (entry into India) Act 1920 and the Foreigners Act 1946. 3 Hindu fishermen were known as Kaibartas within the Hindu occupational caste hierarchy, while the Muslims of the same occupational caste were called Maimals. 4 In a theocratic environment, conversion, as a process of religious persecution, would enlist the participation of local clergymen, who would sanctify or certify successful completion of such acts of conversion. 5 It was a part of the erstwhile Sylhet District that finally was retained in India and over which resentment persisted in East Pakistan and now Bangladesh among the political leaders and scholars alike. 6 The placards under the caption, Julum In Hindustan on Muslims, had handdrawn pictures showing the Hindus with weapons in their hand dragging the Muslims bound by ropes and a pool of blood following them in prominent red colour. 7 Located within half a mile of the Thana. 8 Statements of Mahatma Gandhi, reported in Amrita Bazar Patrika, Calcutta, 23 July 1947, and of Jawaharlal Nehru, reported in Amrita Bazar Patrika, Calcutta, 15August 1947.

References Azad, Salam (2003). Atrocities on the Minorities in Bangladesh, Amity for Peace. Bagchi, Joshodhara, and Dasgupta, Subhoranjan (2003). Trauma & Triumph, Stree. Bal, Ellen (2007). Becoming the Garos of Bangladesh: Politics of Exclusion and Ethnicization of a ‘Tribal’ Minority, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 30(3), 439–455. Barkat, Abul, et al. (2008). Deprivation of Hindu Minority in Bangladesh: Living with Vested Property, Pathak Samabesh. Bertrand, Gabrielle (1958). Secret Lands Where Women Reign, Robert Hale Ltd. Bhattacharyaa, N. (2008). Predicaments of Secular Histories, Public Culture, 20(1), 57–73. Burling, Robbins (2008). The Border that Divides the Garos. In Manis Kumar Raha and Aloke Kumar Ghosh (Eds.) North-East India: The Human Interface, Gyan Publishing House, 345–364. Butalia, Urvashi (2000). The Other Side of Silence Voices from the Partition of India, Duke University Press. Chakrabarti, P.K. (1999). Marginal Men, Naya Udyog. Chakraborty, B. (2004). The Partition of Bengal and Assam, 1932-1947, RoutledgeCurzon. Choudhury, Mousumi (2021). The Home Torn Apart, Notion Press.

196  Binayak Dutta Das, S. (2002). A Partition Diary, Seminar, 510, 43–46. Dutta, B. (2009–2010). From History to Lore: An Interesting Anecdote from the Sylhet Referendum, 1947, Janakristi, Annual Journal of the Folklore Society of Assam, 3(1–3), 78–86. Dutta Pathak, M. (2017). You Do Not Belong Here, Notion Press. Ghoshal, A. (2021). Refugees, Borders and Identities: Rights and Habitat in East and Northeast India, Routledge. Guha, S. (1951). Non-Muslims Behind the Curtain of East Pakistan, East Bengal Minorities Association. Guha Thakurta, M. (2002). Uprooted and Divided, Seminar, 510, 54–60. Gupta, S. (1984). Assam A Valley Divided, Vikas Publishing House. Jurist’s Commission (1965). Recurrent Exodus of Minorities from East Pakistan and Disturbances in India, The Indian Commission of Jurists. Kamra, A.J. (2000). The Prolonged Partition and Its Pogroms, Voice of India. Kharbuli, Elwin F. (2020, July). The Sound of Silence in the Hills, Partition Studies Quarterly, 3. Kimura, M. (2013). The Nellie Massacre of 1983, Sage Publications. Laloo, S.T. (2018). My Grandmothers Tales of the Partition, 1947, Café Dissensus, May. Mansergh, Nicholas (1983). Transfer of Power, Vol. XII, Her Majesty’s Stationary Office. Nora, Piere (1989, Spring). Between Memory and History, Representations, 26, 7–24. Pathak, S. (2012). Ethnic Violence in Bodoland, Economic and Political Weekly, 47(34), 19–23. Raha, Manis Kumar & Ghosh, Aloke Kumar, (ed) (2008). North-East India: The Human Interface. Gyan Publishing House, p. 359. Roy, H. (2012). Partitioned Lives: Migrants, Refugees, Citizens in India and Pakistan, 1947-65, Oxford University Press. Rustomji, Nari K. (1973). Enchanted Frontiers, Oxford University Press, pp. 110–111. Snaitang, O.L. (1997).Memoirs of Life and Political Writings of the Hon’ble Rev. J.J.M. Nichols Roy, Vol. 1, Shrolenson Marbaniang, p. 170. Vaghaiwalla, R.B. (1951). Census of India, XII, Municipal Printing Press.

9 Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque

Introduction Genocide is the most brutal and cruel act of crime against humanity. Generally, mass killing is widely understood as genocide. It has become a human rights issue in the last century. Although the term ‘genocide’ was first used and introduced by Polish lawyer Raphael Lemkin (1900–1959) in 1944 in academia, the acts relating to genocide existed from the beginning of human civilization. The word ‘genocide’ is comparatively new, but the concept is quite ancient (Kuper, 1981), and it happened in all periods of human history (Andreopoulos, 2020; Sartre, 1971; Smith, 1999). The former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill said that until World War II genocide was considered “a crime without a name” (Vasel, 2018). Lemkin (1943) campaigned for the recognition of genocide as a crime under international law. The International Military Tribunal1 recognized genocide as a “crime against humanity” in 1945 (United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, n.d.), and the United Nations (UN) Genocide Convention considered genocide as an “international crime” in 1948 (Article I). All signatory nations of the UN Genocide Convention are committed to prevent and punish the acts of genocide in their jurisdictions. Bangladesh had to face genocide in 1971 during its Liberation War. Sylhet like all other regions of the country also suffered a huge loss of innocent people because of planned and systematic genocide carried out by the Pakistani army and its Bengali collaborators at some of the places within the  region, which have been identified later as the spots of the genocide (Mohammed, 2013, p. 2). The unprecedented genocide that took place in the Sylhet region in the war of liberation is still less known as enough literature on the issue has not been developed yet due to lack of research. This chapter shows how Benedict Anderson’s (1983) notion of creole nationalism (in this chapter Bangla Creole) triggered hate and xenophobia between West and East Pakistan, leading to brutal genocide during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War (Das et al., 2022), stemming from the linguistic movement. This chapter investigates the nature, causes and consequences of the genocide committed in the Sylhet region, bringing out the cruelty of Pakistani soldiers DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-9

198  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque and their Bengali collaborators grounded on the data collected from the witnesses as well as different documents and other shreds of evidence. Background of the Study Creole nationalism is a kind of nationalism based on the identity of people living together in a territory, speaking the same language, having similar traditions, ancestry, history, genealogy etc. Nationalism is something ‘imagined’ by a group of people considering their homogeneous characteristics. The idea of a nation gradually develops in the course of time and goes through generation after generation. Indeed, it is socially constructed (Anderson, 1983, p.  5). As stated above, this chapter demonstrates how creole nationalism provoked the linguistic movement in East Pakistan (present Bangladesh) as a result of the suppression of the Bengali language and culture by the Pakistani rulers. The suppression indeed helped in developing Bengali nationalism or Bengali creole among the people of East Pakistan, leading to the Liberation War of Bangladesh. In other words, the spirit of Bengali nationalism evolved centring on the Bengali creole in the face of continued discrimination, deprivation and exclusion meted out by the Pakistani ruling elites, pushing the Bengalis to revolt against this unjust state policy of Pakistan. The Government of Pakistan tried to obliterate this Bengali revolt by committing unparalleled genocide on the Bengalis, resulting in a complete failure on its part, ensuring the emergence of a new nation, Bangladesh. Creole nationalism is connected with the identity of people (Anderson, 2001, 2006; Yuval-Davis, 2006, 2011), and, therefore, Anderson’s perspective of creole nationalism may be well employed to explain and analyse the genocides committed in different parts of the Sylhet region as well as across Bangladesh. Genocide in Bangladesh

Although many of the genocides have been recognized with hatred and anger in the history of human civilization, the genocide committed by the Pakistani army and its collaborators in East Pakistan, during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971, has not been globally recognized yet (Jahan, 2013). Pakistani army and its Bengali agents, in the name of Operation Searchlight, killed around 3 million innocent Bengalis, raped 200,000 to 400,000 women and girls, and forced approximately 8 to 10 million people to take refuge in India, along with the internal displacement of about 30 million people (Das et al., 2022; Haque, 2017, pp. 48–49). It is important to know why Pakistan committed such carnage on the soil of erstwhile East Bengal, a major wing of Pakistan state called East Pakistan. East Bengal was named East Pakistan after Pakistan became an independent state. Undivided India was partitioned into two independent countries—India and Pakistan—by the colonial British rulers on 14 August 1947 using the two-nation theory of Choudhry Rahmat Ali, which was later on espoused by Muhammad Ali Jinnah (Das et al.,

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  199 2022). This two-nation theory showed that Hindus and Muslims of India were two nations following two different religions and thus should have two independent countries, India for Hindus and Pakistan for Muslims (Jones, 2007, 2008). That is how India and Pakistan emerged, breaking up the Indian subcontinent in 1947. East Bengal joined Pakistan as East Pakistan since the majority population were Muslims, considering Islamic solidarity of the people of both wings. The political leaders of East Bengal and perhaps its common people wanted Pakistan as the homeland of all Muslims of the Indian subcontinent. They hoped that the Muslims of the Indian subcontinent would have a better life and peaceful environment in independent Pakistan, a country that would be exclusively for Muslims. But Muslim solidarity of both the wings gradually started dying within a short period after the emergence of independent Pakistan. The stepmotherly attitude of the West Pakistani rulers towards East Pakistan, showing disrespect to the people of East Pakistan, ridiculing their language and culture, depriving them of due socio-economic development etc. shattered their long-cherished dreams of living together as Muslims. The Bengali Muslims of East Pakistan soon realized that religious solidarity based on Islam is not enough to live together in Pakistan, a country that was created for all Muslims irrespective of their other ethnic identities like language, history, culture and ancestral traditions (Anisuzzaman, 2002; Das et al., 2022; Jahan, 2002). It is worth noting that though Islam was the main religion of the people of East and West Pakistan, their other ethnic characteristics like language, food habits, ancestral traditions and many more cultural traits differed a lot from each other. This extreme ethnic difference came out to be the bone of contention before the people of East Pakistan. Bengali Muslims of East Pakistan insisted that Bangla be made one of the state languages of Pakistan since the majority of people of Pakistan were Bangla speaking. Pakistani rulers outright ruled out this demand of Bengalis, reminding them of Urdu as the language of Muslims, and only Muslim sentiment led to the creation of Pakistan (Muhith, 2014). The Government of Pakistan ultimately failed to convince the Bengalis to give up their linguistic identity and, as a result, started applying forces one after another to suppress the bud of Bengali nationalism. At one point, the situation went out of the hand for the Pakistani rulers when the police opened fire at the agitating students of Dhaka University following the declaration of Urdu as the state language of Pakistan by Muhammad Ali Jinnah, killing a few students and injuring many others on 21 February 1952 (Anisuzzaman, 2002; Das, 2003; Lewis, 2011). This was the beginning of Bengali nationalism that came up heavily before the people of East Pakistan, forcing them to think beyond their Muslim identity and replace it with Bengali identity. The suppression of the Bengali language and culture continued in different forms by the ruling elites of Pakistan, causing further tensions between the two wings of Pakistan, refuelling the sentiment of Bengali nationalism in the

200  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque eastern part. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the Awami League (AL) leader who was the champion of Bengali nationalism, placed six-point demands2 to the Government of Pakistan, asking for more autonomy for East Pakistan in 1966. However, the Pakistan government identified six-point demands as an act of sedition aiming at disintegrating Pakistan and, therefore, arrested Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his 33 associates. Arresting Sheikh Mujibur Rahman pushed the Bengalis to be united based on the sentiment of Bengali nationalism, causing the deterioration of the law-and-order situation in the face of the robust movement of the Bengalis demanding the immediate release of Sheikh Mujib. At last, Sheikh Mujib and his associates were released, dropping all the charges against them in 1969 (Hossain, 2013; Maniruzzaman, 2003). Amidst the chaos and anarchy in East Pakistan, the government declared the schedule of general elections on 7 December 1970 for both national and provisional assembly for the first time after the emergence of Pakistan. AL gained a landslide victory in the national assembly of Pakistan as well as the provincial assembly of East Pakistan, defeating Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), causing further momentum for Bengali nationalism. Despite the victory in the elections, the Pakistan government intentionally delayed the transfer of power to Sheikh Mujib and other elected representatives of AL from East Pakistan, creating doubts and mistrust among the AL leaders and the common people in East Pakistan about the Pakistani ruling elites and their hidden agenda. It was soon understood that the Pakistani rulers never intended the Pakistanis to be governed by the AL, which was a political party of Bengalis. The situation in East Pakistan turned out to be explosive because of quick outburst of civil unrest across the province. The AL leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman addressed a mammoth gathering in Dhaka on 7 March 1971, asking his people to be ready to lodge strong resistance against the enemies, indicating the imminent struggle for securing independence (Das et al., 2022; Muhith, 2014; Sobhan, 1993). Finding no other options, the Government of Pakistan decided to silence the voice of Bengali rebels with blood and fire, unleashing the reign of war against the unarmed Bengali nation. The Pakistani army first attacked the police camp in Dhaka, Dhaka University campus, Hindu inhabitants of old Dhaka on 25 March 1971 at midnight, killing more than 7,000 people in Dhaka overnight under Operation Searchlight. The Liberation War began immediately with the arrest of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman amidst the mass killing in Dhaka on 25 March. Operation Searchlight, at last, ended with the  surrender of the Pakistani army after a nine-month-long bloody war. Considering the series of events that took place right from the beginning of Pakistani rule to the end of it with the independence of Bangladesh involving the Bengalis of East Pakistan, it could be well said that it was a blueprint of ethnic cleansing designed by the then Pakistani rulers to wipe out the Bengalispeaking people from the eastern part of Pakistan. Against these backdrops, this chapter discusses the genocides carried out in Sylhet.

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  201 Genocides Carried Out in Sylhet

This study focuses on the genocide in the northeastern part of Bangladesh called Sylhet, which includes four districts, namely Sylhet, Habiganj, Moulvibazar and Sunamganj. Sylhet is one of the important divisional headquarters of Bangladesh, bordering the Indian states of Assam and Meghalaya. It is also a city corporation and is often considered the hub for business, education, health and the tea industry. Along with mainstream Bengalis, different ethnic communities have been living in Sylhet for centuries (Hoque, 2018, p. 42). The landscape of Sylhet is different from other parts of the country, and the economy has been prosperous since ancient times (Siddiqui, 2021, p. 19). Sylhet region is a vital part of the history of the Liberation War of Bangladesh. The strategy and tactics of this war for the entire country were framed in the Sylhet region. Armed resistance in response to the crackdown on 25 March of 1971 became the reality to protect the defenceless Bengalis. Bengali army officers and soldiers of Pakistan armed forces, Bengali politicians and leaders of Mukti Bahini3 met at Teliapara Tea Estate manager’s bungalow of Habiganj of Sylhet to premeditate armed resistance. The combined forces of Bangladesh divided the entire country into 11 sectors to defend and encounter the Pakistani military and their collaborators. The four districts (then sub-divisions) of Sylhet region were placed under the sectors 3, 4 and 5 (Jahir, 2018, pp. 17–20). Teliapara Tea Estate manager’s bungalow was the first military headquarters of Mukti Bahini consisting of the Bangladeshi military, paramilitary and civilians during the Liberation War. Three Liberation War heroes4 along with others, who were the bright members of Mukti Bahini, came from the Sylhet region. Sylhet is the land of many freedom fighters, organizers of the Liberation War and pro-Bangladesh politicians. From the geopolitical perspective, Sylhet was an important region for the Liberation War of 1971, which had the longest border with India with many India-Bangladesh outposts that had helped the Bengalis to flee as refugees to India. Many guerrillas of the Mukti Bahini went to India through these outposts to be trained to counterattack the Pakistani armed forces. Indian arms entered Bangladesh through these outposts. Therefore, the Pakistani armed forces had to give special attention to the Sylhet region during the Liberation War. Although entire Bangladesh experienced genocides in 1971, the brutality and cruelty of the premeditated genocide of Pakistani military forces in the Sylhet region were incomparable with other regions (Jahir, 2018, p. 176; Shorma, 2016, p. 23). Pakistani army first targeted Bengali-speaking freedom fighters and then Bengali Hindus in their killing mission throughout Bangladesh. In Sylhet too, freedom fighters and Hindus had been indiscriminately killed, considering these two groups as the real enemies of Pakistan. Though people generally know about the genocide carried out in Bangladesh during the Liberation

202  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque War, the spots of genocide in different regions, the way people were killed and the reasons behind the killing etc. remain unknown. There are different spots of genocide in the Sylhet region, which, like many regions in Bangladesh, are least known inside and outside the country (Figure 9.1). This region experienced deportation, mass murder, genocidal rape, arson etc. However, no academic study has so far been undertaken to dig out the truths relating to the spots of genocide, the reasons behind the mass killing, the perpetrators responsible for the killing and the opinions of the martyrs’ relatives for

Figure 9.1 Study Area (The Map is Developed by the Authors).

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  203 claiming compensation etc. This study intends to find out the answers to these questions and add knowledge to the study of genocide at home and abroad. Research Design The objective of this study is to learn about the genocides committed in the Sylhet region during the Liberation War of Bangladesh. In so doing, it tries to explore the following objectives: 1 To dig out the facts and figures concerning the genocides committed in the Sylhet region during the Liberation War of Bangladesh; 2 To find out reasons behind the genocides committed and the people responsible for committing such genocide; 3 To understand the predicaments of the relatives of the martyrs and their claim for compensation. Materials and Methods

The study is qualitative in nature. Five spots of genocide have been identified in different districts of the Sylhet region, and these five spots are purposively selected as the study areas. Both primary and secondary data have been collected to meet the objectives of the study. Primary data have been collected from 25 research participants purposively selected because of being close relatives of the martyrs using an in-depth interview method. Moreover, we had the opportunity to interview five genocide survivors who somehow escaped the killing on the spot. All the in-depth interviews except one were held at the genocide spots. In addition, an informal discussion has been held with five eyewitnesses to extract the facts involving the genocide they had witnessed. Secondary data have been collected from existing literature, both rich and grey, archives, newspaper reports, etc. Ethical Considerations

We ensured verbal informed consent from all of our research participants before the interview. Many of our participants were found not comfortable with written informed consent because of perceived fear of the perpetrators and their associates who are still around. We, therefore, gave up the idea of insisting the research participants on written informed consent. The study turned out to be a highly sensitive one during data collection as many of the potential research participants refused to be interviewed on the issue of genocide because of the hidden threat from the perpetrators and their associates. Although we assured the research participants of maintaining the confidentiality and anonymity of their identity, some of them were still not convinced and refused to talk about the issue. Therefore, we selected those as the research participants who spontaneously agreed to be interacted with after

204  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque knowing the objectives of the study. Those who agreed to cooperate in divulging the facts about the genocide were given full freedom to answer or not to answer any questions we asked. Even we allowed the participants to leave the interview spot in between if felt uncomfortable. The spot and time of the interview were fixed according to the convenience of the participants. Thus, the participation in the interview was completely voluntary on the part of the participants. We promised that the data shared with us during the interview would only be used for the current study, maintaining full confidentiality and anonymity of the identity of our research participants. In some cases, the participants allowed us to use pseudonyms for presenting the facts of genocide if needed. Since this study is self-financed, the researchers could not provide any compensation to the participants for their time and labour. The researchers had full sympathy and empathy with the participants who were the close relatives of the martyrs, genocide survivors, and eyewitnesses carrying the unbearable pains with them for the last 50 years. Limitations of the Study

The study has some limitations. Only 35 participants had been interviewed which could be described as a small sample size for a study of this sort of sensitive and historical one. Besides, data collected from the close relatives of the martyrs could not be cross-checked with the perpetrators as it was practically not possible. Since close relatives of the martyrs shared the facts relating to the killing of their near and dear ones, there were many emotions attached to the data that could naturally lead to some distortions of the facts. Despite these limitations, we believe that data collected from close relatives, genocide survivors, eyewitnesses and secondary sources have adequately helped to depict the overall picture of genocide that was committed at different places in the Sylhet region. Data Analysis and Interpretations

Since the data were mostly qualitative based on the stories shared by the research participants in Sylheti Bangla,5 we first translated and transcribed them carefully. The transcribed data were then coded after reading them line by line. All the codes were merged with each other to identify some categories that helped understand the facts relating to the genocide committed at a particular place. We then developed themes and sub-themes based on different categories, finding out the reasons behind the genocide committed and the people responsible for it. The themes and sub-themes have also portrayed the picture of predicaments of the close relatives of the martyrs, survivors and eyewitnesses and their desire for compensation from the state with the verbatim they shared during the interview. Thematic analysis technique has been followed to depict the overall picture of genocide that was committed in different districts under the Sylhet administrative division.

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  205 Findings of the Study Facts and Figures Relating to Genocides Committed in Sylhet

On the same day of the crackdown on 25 March 1971, the Pakistani army launched the campaign against the Bengalis in Sylhet. The campaign of mass killings, rape, pillage, setting fire and abduction continued till 15 December 1971. As a result, the genocide of 1971 caused at least 5,365 loss of lives in the Sylhet region. Among these, 2,399 Bengalis were killed in Sylhet, 736 in Sunamganj, 1,307 in Moulvibazar and 923 in Habiganj by the Pakistani army and their collaborators (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 295–96). Table 9.1 states the genocidal mission of the Pakistani army and their collaborators in the Sylhet region. Beyond these data, many anonymous Bengalis were killed, wounded, physically tortured and raped. A complete and inclusive database on casualties, torture, rape, oppression, plundering and pillage of property by the Pakistani occupants and their collaborators is not created yet. Therefore, data on casualties, rape and loss of properties in the Liberation War of 1971 are varied. For instance, a study completed by Bangla Academy found that 133 women were killed in Sylhet during the Liberation War (Jahir, 2018, p. 176). The government documented major genocide spots in the Sylhet region. However, some of the spots might be still unknown as they happened in the remotest villages. The genocide spots witnessed the brutality of the Pakistani army and their native collaborators, which are recorded in the government reports (Jahir, 2018, p. 176; Mohammed, 2013, pp. 295–296). For example, Burunga of Osmaninagor and Adityapur of Balaganj, sub-districts of Sylhet; Sreeramsi and Raniganj of Jagannathpur, sub-district of Sunamganj; Naria of Moulvibazar; Holderpur, Makalkandi and Kagapasha of Baniachong, sub-districts of Habiganj; Jolshukha of Ajmiriganj, sub-district of Habiganj; and Krishnapur of Lakhai, sub-district of Habiganj are the most known and media-focused genocide spots in the Sylhet region. Each of these genocides witnessed more than a hundred victims (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 55–199). Genocide was committed at least in 160 places in the Sylhet region. Table 9.2 lists the genocide spots with the help of published literature in Bengali (Jahir, 2018; Mohammed, 2013, 2017; Shorma, 2016), newspapers and unpublished reports and field data. Discussion on Major Genocides in the Sylhet Region Burunga Genocide in Sylhet

Burunga, a village in Osmaninagar sub-district of Sylhet, witnessed a brutal genocide on 26 May 1971. Hundreds of innocent Bengali Hindus were ferociously killed by the Pakistani soldiers under the leadership of a captain, who was instigated by the local collaborators (Chatterjee, 2020).

Districta

Killed civilians Wounds/disabled Physically tortured Raped

Setting fire

Pillaged Killed women Killed intellectuals

Sylhet Sunamganj Moulvibazar Habiganj Total

2,399 736 1,307 923 5,365

769 435 2,709 1,235 5,148

620 370 2,897 1,330 5,217

337 95 370 320 1,122

1,029 260 1,825 615 3,729

693 205 850 380 2,128

25 4 29 23 81

30 --25 6 61

Source: (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 295–296). a In 1971, these were subdivisions under the Sylhet district. Currently, these administrative units are called district under Sylhet administrative division.

206  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque

Table 9.1  The Brutality of the Pakistani Army and their Collaborators against the Bengalis in 1971

Table 9.2  Genocide Spots in the Sylhet Region of Bangladesh Sub-district

Genocide spots

Sylhet

Sylhet Sadar

Amberkhana, Puran Lane, Khalpar, Kamalgorh, Bandar Bazar, Baruthkhana, National Bank of Pakistan, Weather Office, Tutlikor, Mira Bazar, Mirza Jungle, Dariapara, Subid Bazar, Noyasarak, Hawapara, Sylhet Medical Hospital, Ilaskandi, Akalia, South Surma, Kolapara, Lakkatura Tea Estate, Malnicherra Tea Estate, Boroshala, Salutikar, Mohaldik, Kewacherra, Kalagul Tea Estate, Kalagul Slum, Khadimnagor Tea Estate, Khadimnagor Slum-3, Tarapur Tea Estate Padmakesh Chowdhury Bari, Kormokolapoti, Biswanath Bazar Burunga, Adityapur, Ilashpur, Lalkoilash, Gowalabazar, Sadipur, Surikona, Sherpur, Galimpur Fenchuganj Fertiliser Factory, Momincherra Tea Estate, Fenchuganj Thana Mewha-Fulbari Madrasha Road, Barcout, Sundishail Supatola, Matiura, Alinagor,Charkhai, Shewla, Kurar Bazar, Muria, Lawta Luharmahol, Kaliganj, Chargram Maligram, Borochotul Bhirakhai, Helirai, Asampara, Khan Tea Estate, Hemu Gowain River Bank, Purnha Nagar, Chatargram, Kamaeid, Kachuyarpar, Gourinagor, Mitrimahol Thegoria, Dulura Derai, Perua, Ghungiargaon, Shayamarchor Dharmapasha, Dharmapasha Bazar, Kamalbaz Chhatak Bazar, Baghbari, Noyingaon Sreeramsi, Rosulpur, Raniganj

Biswanath Balaganj Fenchuganj Golapganj Beanibazar Zakiganj Khanaighat Jointapur Gowainghat Sunamganj

Sunamganj Sadar Derai Dharmapasha Chhatak Jagannathpur

(Continued)

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  207

District

District

Sub-district

Genocide spots

Moulvibazar

Moulvibazar Sadar

Moulvibazar Town, Moulvibazar College Staff Quarter, Gorua, Batorkhali, Shah Bondor, Baurbagh, Vujhbal, Chandopur, Ajmeru, Khidur, Kajirbazar, Basudebsri, Troylukyabijoy, Kamalpur, Dashin Poylabagh, Goyghor, Naria Gobindabati, Panchgaon, Kholagram Kulaura, South Side of Railway Station, South side of Nabin Chandra High School, Laskarpur, Kulaura Kulaura, Chatolgram, Kadipur, Hossainpur, Pushainagor, Ghagtiah, Prithimpasa, Kolirkuna, Kormoda, Rauthgaon, Hajipur, Baromchal, Brammon Bazar Borolekha Railway Station, Shahbazpur Bank of Juri River, Sagornal, Kalibari, khaktia, Jongirai, Dasinbagh Bhanugach, Sreepur, Shamshernagar, Shamshernagar Airport Runway, Poton Ushar, Taradhighir Par, Choitraghat, Portabi, Laksmipur, Choychiri, Dheoracherra, Dheoracherra Tea Estate, Kamudpur Purbasha, Rajghat Tea Estate, Shindurkhan Tea Estate, Shishelbari Tea Estate. Varaura Tea Estate, Mirzapur, Sreemangal Wapda Resthouse Habiganj Town Shayestaganj High School Field, Borchor, Khowai River Bank Krishnapur, Lalchanpur, Gokulnagar, Chandipur Nabiganj Bazar, Shakha Borak River Bank, Kanaipur, Goyahori, Jonotori, Mohammedpur, Uoishankar Holdarpur, Kagapasha, Makalkandi, Jilua, Haruni, Nazipur and Gugrapur Ajmiriganj Bazar, Jolsukha Mirpur Bazar Chunarughat Bazar, Hatunda, Chandpur Tea Estate, Gazipur, Kathuyamara, Lalchand Tea Estate, Nalua Tea Estate Montola, Abzalpur, Teliapara, Teliapara Bazar, Teliapara Tea Estate, Uttar Surma, Surma Tea Estate, Sultanpur

Rajnagor Kulaura Borolekha Juri Kamalganj Sreemangal Habiganj

Habiganj Sadar Shayestaganj Lakhai Nabiganj Baniachong Ajmiriganj Bahubal Chunarughat Madhabpur

Source: Prepared by the authors.

208  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque

Table 9.2  (Continued)

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  209 The Pakistani invaders and their collaborators had a meeting on 25 May 1971, announcing at Burunga and other nearby villages that all people must be present on the morning of 26 May 1971 to take part in the formation of the Peace Committee6 at the local high school ground. It was further announced that the ‘Peace Card’, locally known as Dandi Card, would be distributed among the people present there on that day. This Dandy Card will save the holder from the attack of the Pakistani army. Those who failed to show the Dandi Card on demand would be treated as enemies of Pakistan, and considered members/supporters of Mukti Bahini. According to the announcement and the advice of two Razakars,7 the people from nearby villages reached the Burunga High School ground on the morning of 26 May 1971 (The Samakal, 26 May 2018). The Pakistani army asked the Muslims to stand on the north side of Burunga High School and the Hindus on the east side. At noon, the Hindus were asked to sit under a tree on the ground of Burunga High School. The Muslims were asked to bind all the Hindus with four persons together. A former Union Council Chairman protested: This is not a provision of Islam. Everyone has been invited here to  establish peace. Is it right to tie the people with a rope after the invitation? (Dhar, 2020) The Muslims were released after reciting Kalema.8 They were asked to leave the ground with the slogan of Pakistan Zindabad.9 The Bengali Hindus remained tied. The Hindus began to cry out of fear and requested to free them on the condition that they would abide by the rules and instructions of the Pakistani Army. The Pakistani army and the local collaborators did not consider their request. About 100 Hindus were lined up in three columns and killed indiscriminately by burst-fire. Then the Pakistani forces poured kerosene on the dead bodies and set them on fire to confirm their death (Sayeed, 2020). The next day, on 27 May 1971, the Pakistani army came to the genocide spot and hired some labours to bury the burnt and half-burnt dead bodies beside the school. A genocide survivor (Figure 9.2), who is a retired teacher of Burunga High School, said: I saw countless people, including my father and brother, being shot and burnt to death while standing on the stage of the barbaric genocide. Fortunately, I somehow survived. The horrifying act of that day still trembles my body. (The Samakal, 26 May 2018) A team of the International Crimes Tribunal10 visited the genocide spot of Burunga on 22 May 2011. The Tribunal completed their investigations and

210  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque

Figure 9.2 Local School Teacher, who Escaped from the Mass Killings, Describes the Genocide Committed by the Pakistani Army and their Collaborators. He was also Shot by the Military. (PC: Shuyab Ahmed Khan).

collected shreds of evidence to submit their report to prosecute the war criminals (The Samakal, 26 May 2018). Sriramsi Genocide in Sunamganj

Sriramsi is an economically prosperous and Bengali Muslim-inhabited village located at the Mirpur Union in the eastern part of Jagannathpur sub-district of Sunamganj. Many people from this village have been living in the United Kingdom and some other countries in Europe since the 1950s. In 1971, non-resident Bengalis sent foreign currencies as donation from abroad to the Mujibnagar Government11 of Bangladesh (Mohammed, 2013, p. 105). They also sent funds to the Mukti Bahini to buy arms and other logistics to fight against Pakistani invaders to free the country. The non-resident Bengalis also organized protests abroad against the atrocities of the Pakistani military in Bangladesh. They formed a movement to ensure international public opinion and sought the attention of the international statesmen, politicians and human rights activists in favour of the Bengali nationalism-based nationstate ‘Bangladesh’ and its right to self-determination. On 31 August 1971, the Pakistani military carried out a genocide at Sriramsi village, invading Sriramasi Bazaar through the river by seven to eight boats. They called a meeting with local collaborators on the ground of Sriramasi High School, aiming to engage the local people in the Peace Committee.

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  211 Two notorious Razakars of Chilaura village called the local youths to join the Peace Committee for establishing peace in their village (Mohammed, 2013, p. 105). The villagers immediately gathered at the school ground in the hope of establishing peace in their area (The Daily Jugantor, 31 August 2019). The Pakistani soldiers became aggressive and threatened those who were late to attend the meeting (Mohammed, 2013). A witness of the atrocities of Pakistani forces (Figure 9.3) said that the Pakistani soldiers tied the hands and feet of the people present there in the meeting. Later, the tied Bengalis were put in a line and burst-fired. Among the dead were students, teachers, government employees, Imam12 of the local mosque, head master and Head Moulovi13 of the high school, businessmen, youths, ordinary villagers and visiting relatives. Immediately after the genocide, the Pakistani army burnt 250 houses in Sriramsi village (jagonews24. com, 31 August 2019). A local Razaker was the mastermind of this genocide (Shorma, 2016, p. 31). Like other genocides, accurate numbers of casualties in Sriramsi atrocities are not documented yet. However, at least 126 dead bodies were identified by the local people during the burial. Another source claimed that at least 200 Bengalis were killed in the Sriramsi massacre (Shorma, 2016). After the genocide, the Pakistani soldiers detained young girls, women and housewives and took them away by boats. The captured women and girls never came

Figure 9.3 A Genocide Survivor Indicates the Spot of the Atrocity of the Pakistani Army and Their Collaborators. (PC: Shuyab Ahmed Khan).

212  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque back to their village, and nobody knows about their fate. The frightened people, later on, fled the village to save their lives. There was no one found left in the village for the burial of dead bodies. The dogs and foxes dragged the dead bodies, and the situation became terrible with the stench of rotten corpses. After five or six days of the genocide, people from neighbouring villages came to the spots, recovered the dead bodies and buried them at the Dhigirpar Cemetery (Kalerkantho, 31 August 2019). A genocide survivor said: The genocide of that day still shakes me. The Pakistan Army asked the villagers to attend the meeting to establish peace. I also went to attend. After a few minutes of the meeting, the Pakistani Army tied up the Bengalis in a group of 8/10 persons and fired indiscriminately. I  was detained in a classroom of the high school with a few other people. Suddenly, we were released for unknown reasons. Luckily we survived! A four-member committee of the International Crimes Tribunal visited the genocide spots at Sriramsi on 21 May 2011 to investigate and collect the evidence about the atrocities. An officer of the International Crimes Tribunal said: We have received a lot of evidence in the last two days. Eyewitnesses are giving us detailed information about the genocide. (banglanews24.com, 22 May 2011) Naria Genocide in Moulvibazar

Naria is a Bengali Hindu-inhabited village located at the upper Kagbala Union of Moulvibazar. In 1971, this village was remote and disconnected from the mainland, being surrounded by numerous haors14 and beels15 that made the village inaccessible during the rainy season. The boat was the only mode of transport, and the people moved on foot during winter. The village was economically disadvantaged, and the people were mostly illiterate at the time of the Liberation War (Mohammed, 2013, p. 120). The Pakistani army attacked this village under Operation Searchlight, targeting the Bengali Hindus to exterminate them from the country. On 14 May 1971, the Pakistani invaders in collaboration with the Razakars carried out a genocide in this village. A troop of 12 soldiers reached Naria on foot from the Sherpur camp passing through Sadhuhati village. After hearing the march of Pakistani invaders towards Naria, a few villagers jumped into Farcha beel, and a few ran away and tried to hide in the nearby bushes and jute fields to save their lives. But the invaders shot the fleeing people indiscriminately, leaving many of them dead on the spot.

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  213 A Muslim genocide survivor said: In mid-April of 1971, the Hindus of Naria became terrified when the Pakistani attacks and atrocities on the Hindus substantially increased. Local Razakers asked the Hindu villagers to be converted to Islam in order to escape from the attacks and atrocities. The Hindus refused the proposal of the Razakars. Then the Razakars suggested the Hindus to marry off their daughters to the Muslim boys. The Hindus refused it too. The Razakars asked them to hand over their cows to them, but the Hindus did not agree. These collaborators informed the Pakistani forces about the existence of Hindus in Naria. The Pakistani military attacked Naria on 14 May 1971. Many Hindus of this village ran away from their house to save their lives. The Pakistani army barred the villagers from fleeing away and detained more than a hundred men, women and children. Then they separated men from women and children. All women and children were detained in a house. Later, they brought up the Hindu males to the yard of a Hindu gentleman, lining them up, including the Hindu gentleman, and killing them by burst-fire. After the killing, the Pakistani soldiers first raped the women and girls and then killed them. Local collaborators including Razakars and Al Badars16 set fire to the houses and granaries in the village. Later, the Razakars looted paddy, cows, gold, cash, furniture and groceries from the uninhabited village (Mohammed, 2013, p. 121). It was the first genocide committed in Moulvibazar under the Sylhet division (The Daily Ittefaq, 23 April 2007). After this genocide, Naria became an uninhabited village. There was no male left to perform the funeral rites of the  dead bodies. The skeletons of the Hindu gentleman and his wife were recovered from the burnt house after two days. As the stench of the corpses became unbearable, the Razakars ordered the relatives of the dead from the neighbouring villages to bury the corpses, otherwise they would be killed too. After being threatened, five to six relatives of the killed Hindus from nearby Abdalpur, Noagaon and Khagrakandi villages came and buried the bodies in the premises of the house of that Hindu gentleman. Once Bangladesh gained independence, the freedom fighters came to Naria, exhuming this mass grave, recovering the skeletons and burying them at the bank of the nearest river Manu (Mohammed, 2013, p. 121). Accurate casualties of the Naria genocide are not documented yet. According to the relatives of the genocide victims, at least 26 people, including 7 members of the same family, were killed on that day (Prothom Alo, 25 March 2021). A genocide survivor said: I was a student in class ten in 1971. The local Razakars captured and took me to the Pakistani Army. Then they lined up me for bursting fire. I somehow survived and got life for the second time. The Pakistani soldiers thought that I was dead, leaving me on the pile of corpses. The bullets wounded my two legs.

214  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque A five-member committee of the International Crimes Tribunal, as already discussed above, visited Naria and completed their investigations on the genocide carried out against humanity on 24 May 2011 (banglanews24.com, 24 May 2011). Makalkandi Genocide in Habiganj

Makalkandi is a lower-caste Hindu-dominated remote downstream area of Habiganj District. The village of Makalkandi was prosperous in terms of education, employment and economy (bdnews24.com, 18 August 2010). In 1971, this village was inaccessible as many haors surrounded it. A river divided this village into two parts. The tributaries of this river form a circle around both the banks, making the village inaccessible from the outsiders’ attacks. The residents of this village felt safe during the Liberation War, refraining from leaving the village for India with the status of being a refugee. Rather, many Hindus from neighbouring villages took refuge in Makalkandi considering it more or less safe. Even the locally elected Member of Parliament (MP), who happened to be a Hindu, preferred this village for the safety and security of his family members (Mohammed, 2013, p. 183). This safe and secure life of the Hindus annoyed the collaborators of the Pakistani invaders, informing the Pakistani military about a base of freedom fighters at Makalkandi. Furthermore, they also persuaded the occupant Army that the Bengali Hindus of Makalkandi were members of the Mukti Bahini. On 17 August 1971, the Pakistani army and local collaborators chalked out a plan at a meeting to attack Makalkandi the very next day (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 183–185; Shorma, 2016, pp. 26–27). On 18 August 1971, a contingent of the Pakistani army reached Makalkandi in 40 to 50 boats (banglanews24.com, 18 August 2013) under the leadership of a major, killing more than 200 innocent Hindus, including 11 members of one family in five Hindu inhabited villages named Makalkandi, Jilua, Haruni, Nazipur and Gugrapur (Prothom Alo, 18 August 2010). The villagers were busy with their worship at the century-old Chandi temple to observe Vishahari Puja on that day. Suddenly, Pakistani armed forces opened fire from the boats on the worshipping villagers at around 9.00 am killing 78 Hindus of whom 44 were women (Kaler Kantha, 17 August 2019). Few villagers jumped into the nearby Suta River and somehow survived, and around 40 villagers escaped from the genocide with serious injuries. The target of the Pakistani army was to wipe out the Hindus from this area (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 183–185; The Daily Protidiner Bani, 1 September 2011). A genocide survivor shared: Pakistani forces snatched a four-day-old baby from his mother’s lap and shot him dead. After the genocide, the soldiers raped Hindu women and girls, burned houses with petrol and gun powder, and looted stocked paddy, gold and cash. The survivors fled to India in fear of

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  215 further attack. At least 50 people died of various diseases, including diarrhoea, on the way to India for survival. I still tremble when I think of these hellish mass killings because of being only Hindu. Krishnapur Genocide in Habiganj

Krishnapur is a remote village in the Lakhai sub-district of Habiganj, located at the bank of the Balabhadra River. This village remains surrounded by water for nine months of the year. Many of the villages in the adjacent areas were inaccessible in 1971, and the villagers had no clue about the imminent attacks of the Pakistani army. The occupant army perhaps knew nothing about this village in the first seven months of the Liberation War. None protested against the Pakistani invasion, nor had anybody joined the Mukti Bahini from this village. Pakistani army attacked Hindu-majority villages in the low-lying areas of Bangladesh, including Habiganj of Sylhet, and carried out genocide till August 1971. By September 1971, the perpetrators were on the back foot in the face of frequent attacks from the freedom fighters causing colossal loss of their lives (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 199–200; Shorma, 2016, pp. 24–26). Krishnapur was attacked in the early morning of 18 September 1971. The villagers had observed Mahalya puja throughout the night on 17 September 1971. Most of the Hindus were asleep in the morning as they had enjoyed Kirton17 the whole night. A witness, who was a genocide survivor, said: A young leader of Islami Chattra Shangha18 instigated the Pakistani soldiers and brought them into the village. They robbed and pillaged in the village. The soldiers and Razakars rounded up 130 Hindus in front of the Kamalamayee High School ground, killing them by bursting fire. Only seven people somehow escaped with severe bullet injuries. The brutality and mass killings committed on the Bengali Hindus in this village are a wicked part of the history of genocides globally (sharebiz.net, 18 September 2019). The Pakistani soldiers were then invited by the Razakars to enter the neighbouring Hindu village called Chandipur where only 16 families lived at that time. A genocide survivor stated: 45 persons were lined up and killed by bursting fire. Only two men escaped killing. The Pakistani soldiers then attacked Lalchanpur village. They lined up at least 40 Hindus and killed all of them. They also killed all Hindus in another neighbouring village called Gokulnagar. A genocide survivor informed: At least 200 Hindus were killed in Chandipur village.

216  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque It is still not possible to make a list of how many Hindus were killed by the Pakistani soldiers and Razakars on 18 September 1971. A genocide survivor said: I, myself, recovered 127 dead bodies, floating them in the river as there was nobody to perform the funeral according to Hindu rituals. An eyewitness of the genocide said: The Pakistani soldiers surrounded the entire village early in the morning. The villagers woke up hearing enormous sounds of machine guns and bombing. The Pakistani soldiers indiscriminately fired on the villagers. None could escape as the soldiers surrounded the entire village. The perpetrators raped Hindu girls and women, physically assaulted the villagers, burned down all the houses and looted their ornaments and money. They snatched the children and had thrown them into the river in front of their parents. The Pakistani soldiers also charged bayonets at innocent Bengalis. Another genocide survivor stated: Few people of Krishnapur came back from Lakhai Bazar on 17 September 1971. They saw some engine-driven boats coming from Astagram police station of neighbouring Kisoreganj district, patrolling alongside Krishnapur haor nearby the village. The local Razakars informed them that the Pakistani soldiers had no plan to attack Krishnapur as the villagers were not involved in the Mukti Bahini, which was a blatant lie. Consequently, the causalities resulting from the attack of the Pakistani Army soared beyond imagination. A freedom fighter/ eyewitness of Habiganj shared: Pakistani perpetrators committed genocide in this village with the help of local Razakars; otherwise, it would not have happened in Krishnapur. After the Liberation War, the collaborators of the genocide joined the pro-liberation forum to escape the trial of committed crimes against humanity. The main convicted who allegedly incited the Pakistani soldiers to attack this locality became the president of a pro-liberation political party of the Lakhai sub-district as well as the chairman of the local Union Council after the independence (Kalerkantho, 18 September 2016, bdnews24.com, 4 March 2010). A genocide survivor filed a lawsuit against the perpetrators in March 2010 at the Habiganj District Magistrate’s Court. It is the first case of crime against humanity filed by the International War Crimes Tribunal in the Sylhet Division (sharebiz.net, 18 September 2019).

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  217 Bengali Hindus Are the Innocent Victims of Genocides in Most Cases

Pakistani rulers treated Hindus of East Pakistan as collaborators of India. They also blamed the Hindus, describing them as conspirators against the Pakistani state. The Razakers instigated the Pakistani forces, labelling the Hindus as the prominent supporters of Bangladesh, and blaming them for being backed by the Indian state (Haque, 2017). From these perspectives, mostly Hindus became the worst victims of the genocide committed by the Pakistani army and their collaborators in the Sylhet region. The Bengali collaborators instigated the Pakistani army by providing forged data, showing the areas as Hindu inhabited, and claiming them as the supporters of the Mukti Juddha (Liberation War). The Pakistani army and their collaborators considered Bengali nationalism as an ‘Indo-Zionist’ conspiracy, prompting the Hindus to become innocent victims of the genocides in most cases (Chowdhury, 2020). The Urdu-speaking Bihari population of East Pakistan supported the Pakistani army during Bangladesh Liberation War, helping them to exterminate the Bengalis. They believed that Pakistan must be the land of the Muslims only (Farooq, 2009, p. 141). Many of the Genocide Spots Were Remote and Inaccessible

Although most of the battles for Liberation occurred in towns, suburbs and places that had transport and communication facilities across the country, genocides committed in the Sylhet region were mostly remote and inaccessible. During the Liberation War, district, sub-division and the headquarters of police stations became insecure due to attacks and counterattacks by the Pakistani armed forces and freedom fighters. Not all genocides were committed in these places. Rather, remote and inaccessible areas of low-lying Bangladesh, especially in the Sylhet region, became the target of the perpetrators of committing genocide. Thus, genocide and the atrocities of the Pakistani army were not much exposed in the media during the time of the Liberation War (Dummett, 2011). This study found that many genocide spots remain unknown even after five decades of the Liberation War. Bengali Collaborators Are the Main Perpetrators of the Genocide

The Bengali collaborators like the members and organizers of the Peace Committee, Al-Badar, Al-Shams19 and Razakers were the main perpetrators of the genocides carried out by the Pakistani army (Haque, 2017, pp. 91–93; Jahir, 2018, p. 326; Mohammed, 2013, p. 2; 2017, pp. 36–37; Shorma, 2016, p. 24). These collaborators provided all logistic support and information to the Pakistani army (Hiro, 2015). Most of the Pakistani soldiers and commanders deployed against the Bengalis came from Panjab province (Jaffrelot, 2002), who had no idea whether the villages were inhabited by Hindus or Muslims. They did not know about the transportation and communication system to reach these villages. But the collaborators guided the Pakistani

218  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque army to commit genocide in the remote villages inhabited by the Hindus. The eyewitnesses and genocide survivors in the Sylhet region argued that the Bengali collaborators assisted the Pakistani soldiers in committing each genocide. Genocidal Rape

Between 200,000 to 400,000 Bengali women/girls were the victims of genocidal rape by the Pakistani military and their collaborators in the Liberation War (Brownmiller, 1993; D’Costa, 2011, p. 108; Gerlach, 2010). Most of the raped women were Hindus (Bartrop & Jacobs, 2014; Islam, 2019). Additionally, many women were abducted by the perpetrators, declaring these women as ‘gonimoter maal’20 (war booty), who could be enjoyed and raped by anybody (D’Costa, 2011, p. 108). Every genocide spot in the Sylhet region witnessed the rape and abduction of women and girls who were the relatives of killed ones. The Pakistani invaders and their collaborators took genocidal rape of the women as a war weapon (Jahan, 2013, p. 248, 250). At least 2,128 women and girls were raped in the Sylhet region (Jahir, 2018; Mohammed, 2013). However, a complete list of genocidal rape in the Sylhet region (as well as Bangladesh) has not been prepared yet. Moreover, the Pakistani army claimed that the real figure of raped Bengali women in the War of 1971 was lower than claimed; however, they did not deny the rape of women (Brownmiller, 1993, p. 48). For the sake of ‘protecting the integrity of Pakistan’ and ‘protecting Islam’, the Pakistani Army and their collaborators were engaged in systematic rape, barbaric assault and killing (Kabir, 2010). Pillage and Setting Fire to Grab the Property of the Victims of Genocides

Pillage and setting fire to houses were common in most genocide spots in the Sylhet region (Mohammed, 2013, pp. 55, 105, 120, 181–187). The field data show that Bengali collaborators were mainly involved in looting stocked crops, livestock, ornaments and cash money of the genocide victims. The Pakistani soldiers were generally involved in the killing mission of Bengalis. In many cases, the Bengalis left their homestead before the attack of the Pakistani forces and their collaborators. Eventually, the genocide survivors and their relatives had to cross the border to take shelter in India. One of the aims of looting and setting fire to the victims’ houses by the collaborators was to permanently seize the property of these helpless people. Discussion Ethnic Cleansing and Creole Nationalism

Based on the perceived threat to their power, authority and existence, ethnic identity remains crucial for the perpetrators to eliminate a particular ethnic

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  219 community. At the same time, an ethnic community facing elimination based on its ethnic characteristics like language, literature, songs, ancestral traits, natural assets and many others take the challenges to fight back against the perpetrators with all its physical and mental strengths for survival. It is a common practice for the powerful perpetrators (say, state actors or a powerful ethnic community) to first neglect the other (say, less powerful) ethnic community, maltreat them and then perceive them as dangerous ‘other’. The less powerful community is also hated or treated as exotic or weird because of their culture, which does not match those in power with the mainstream community. In most cases, discrimination, deprivation and exclusion policies are developed to suppress this ‘other’ – the targeted ethnic group. We argue that the suppression escalates to a stage where the targeted ethnic group become victims of killing and mass violence, thereby carrying out the genocidal intent embedded in ethnic cleansing. This study tries to explain the genocide committed in Bangladesh during its Liberation War from the lens of ethnic cleansing, as proposed by Oncioiu (2016). Bengali nationalism was, in fact, budding among the Bengalis before the partition of India in 1947, but the feeling of ethnic nationalism became intensified during the time of Pakistani rule because of the maltreatment of the Pakistani ruling elites towards Bengali-speaking people. Pakistan never wanted Bengali nationalism to flourish and was aggressive in suppressing Bengali culture. But the Bengalis were committed to saving their language, ancestral traditions and cultural elements, settling their ethnic nationalism as the final one to be safeguarded with all sacrifices. Pakistan decided to eliminate the spirits of Bengali nationalism by committing an unprecedented genocide on the Bengalis of East Pakistan, exactly as discussed by Oncioiu, who described it as ethnic cleansing (2016, p. 27). Benedict Anderson’s Conception of ‘Imagined Communities’ and the Bengali Genocide

The Pakistani rulers indeed adopted the plan of genocide to destroy the Bengalis of East Pakistan during the Liberation War in 1971. As already discussed, the Pakistan government wanted to assimilate Bengalis into Islamic nationalism, making them forget their own language, history and culture. But Pakistan eventually failed, ending up disintegrating its unity and integrity. Fundamentally, genocide aims to abolish an ethnic group, but in a broader sense it covers more than that (Andreopoulos, 1994). Most of the genocides did not only abolish an ethnic group but also their cultural artefacts. The genocide committed by Pakistan in Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971 is an example of it. This so-called idea of the formation of a nation through committing genocide became the ideology of the perpetrators. Indeed, “nationalism became the ideology of the leaders who, once in power, had all the mechanisms necessary to implement genocide” (Oncioiu, 2016, p. 29).

220  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque There are different aspects of genocide, including political, social, cultural, economic and biological. However, Michael Mann coined only four types of genocides: physical, political, legal and cultural (Mann, 2005, p. 234). The data of this study suggest that the genocide committed in Bangladesh from 25 March 1971 to 15 December 1971 comprised all these above-mentioned aspects. In the name of Operation Searchlight, the military crackdown began to exterminate Bengalis, who demanded their rights to self-determination (Das et al., 2022). Pakistan’s dreadful and ruthless plan destroyed the Bengalis politically, socially, culturally, economically and physically. The brutality and cruel activities carried out against the Bengalis during the Liberation War in 1971 could be tantamount to genocide (Payaslian, 2012; Rummel, 1994, p. 315); however, debates among the scholars to define these killings as genocide or not genocide (Beachler, 2007; Bose, 2005) may be described as confusing and misleading. Although the Bengali genocide of 1971 is a brutal incident globally in terms of its causality and atrocities, it remains ‘strikingly little known’ (Jones, 2014). This genocide has been termed as ‘massacre’, ‘mass killings’, ‘mass destruction’, ‘mass murder’ and ‘annihilation’ in different reports and publications produced in Bangladesh and abroad. Perhaps, this is because of the propaganda of Pakistan and its cronies, disregarding the emergence of Bengali nationalism based on Bangla creole (language, tradition and culture) (Jones, 2015). In addition, the right-wing political parties collaborating with Pakistani forces distorted the facts of the Liberation War of Bangladesh, often making hindrances towards ensuring the recognition of the genocide at different times. Inadequate research on the genocides committed in Bangladesh during the Liberation War is another reason for not being recognized as ‘genocide’. However, the Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi recognized it as ‘genocide’ on 31 March 1971 within a week of the massacre (Boissoneault, 2016). Deploying Benedict Anderson’s conception of ‘imagined communities’, we argue that the Pakistani army was directly involved in mass killings aimed at Bengali ethnic cleansing/ Bengali genocide. Each person is a member of a nation or ethnic community, and there is no one without a national identity (Anderson, 1983, p. 184). Bengali community became a nation with similar ethnic identities based on their common history and cultural heritage developed over thousands of years. However, from 1947 to 1971, the Pakistan state mechanism tried hard to assimilate all people of its two parts within a single identity, that is, ‘Pakistani Muslim’. But the cultures of the people of East and West Pakistan were significantly different. The socio-culture system of the people of East Pakistan bred different nationalisms from that of ‘Pakistani Muslim’ – which was not only ‘Bengali.’ A state does not need to form only one nation; rather, many nations can emerge within a state. Indeed, a nation is an imagined political community (Anderson, 1983). That is how Bengalis emerged as an imagined community, which perhaps the Pakistani state failed to realise before the independence of Bangladesh. Hence, Pakistan

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  221 committed hellish genocides in different parts of Bangladesh, including Sylhet, during Bangladesh Liberation War. Benedict Anderson’s (1983) conception of ‘imagined communities’ complies with Seton-Watson’s (2020) statement. According to Seton-Watson (2020, p. 5), if a significant number of people in a community ‘consider themselves’ a nation or behave like a nation, it is a nation. The terms ‘consider themselves’ and ‘imagine themselves’ are the same here (Seton-Watson, 2020, p. 5). This context of a nation or ethnic identity refers to the Bengali community of East Pakistan, a nation with its ethnic identity. However, a very small portion of the Bengali community became collaborators of the Pakistani army to gain personal benefits through the pillage of property of the genocide victims. Therefore, we argue that the Pakistani armed forces’ indiscriminate killing of the Bengali people in 1971 is clearly a genocide aimed at Bengali ethnic cleansing. Anderson (1983) believed that community members must not need to know each other to be a nation; instead, they should imagine each other to some extent. This conception of Anderson is reflected in the Liberation War of Bangladesh. When the Pakistani invaders attacked the Bengalis in 1971, the people of this community around the world became united to establish a sovereign state with the spirit of Bengali nationalism. For instance, the Bengalis of the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, Europe, Australia and other parts of the world collected funds for Mukti Bahini and the exiled acting government of Bangladesh. The non-resident Bengalis vehemently protested the genocides committed by Pakistan, blockading Pakistan embassies and high commissions in different parts of the world. The movement of the non-resident Bengalis of East Pakistan against Pakistani atrocities showed the feeling of oneness of known and unknown members of their nation. Conclusion Bengali culture and traditions (Bangla Creole) evolved through centuries, which in turn translated later into Bengali nationalism during the Pakistani rule in East Pakistan. Pakistani rulers found it unacceptable to become Pakistani as well as Bengali, describing Bengali culture influenced by Hindu traditions as fully contradictory to the Muslim identity of the Pakistanis. Bengalis of East Pakistan were firmly committed to their creole nationalism based on ethnic identity. Still, Pakistani rulers outright discarded it, unleashing its army to crash all the resistance of Bengalis, teaching them a lesson for their fascination with Bangla culture in 1971. Unparalleled genocide carried out by the Pakistani army and their Bengali collaborators in East Pakistan could only be explained as ethnic cleansing of the Bengalis. This study demonstrated how Sylhet region witnessed this barbaric mass killing. The Hindus were massacred in different inaccessible spots, labelling them as freedom fighters, speculating as having closely connected with the neighbouring enemy, India. Creole nationalism of Bengalis and ethnic cleansing attempted

222  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque by the Pakistani army and its collaborators gave birth to a new baby, Bangladesh, on 16 December 1971, as a sovereign and independent country on the world map. Notes 1 The International Military Tribunal (IMT) opened at Nuremberg on 20 November 1945, six and half months after Germany surrendered. This war crimes trial held after World War II. In 1942, the governments of the Allied powers announced their intent to to conduct a fair trial for crimes against the peace of the world. 2 The six points are: (1) Pakistan should be a federation with parliamentary form of government based on the universal adult franchise according to the spirit of the Lahore Resolution; (2) The Federal Government should deal the subjects relating to defence and foreign relations, and all other residual subjects should be vested in the provinces; (3) There will be two separate but freely convertible currencies for the two wings of East and West Pakistan. A separate Banking Reserve should be introduced for both wings. Furthermore, separate fiscal and monetary policy should be adopted for East Pakistan; (4) The power of taxation and revenue collection should be vested in the federating units, and the federal centre would have no such power. The federation would be entitled to a share in the state taxes to meet its expenditures; (5) There should be two separate accounts for the foreign exchange earnings of the two wings; the foreign exchange requirements of the federal government should be met by the two wings equally or in a ratio to be fixed; indigenous products should move free of duty between the two wings, and the constitution should empower the units to establish trade links with foreign countries; (6) East Pakistan should have a separate military or paramilitary force, and Navy headquarters should be in East Pakistan (Das et al., 2020). 3 The Mukti Bahini is also known as the Bangladesh Forces. The immediate precursor of the Mukti Bahini was Mukti Fauj. Mukti Bahini was formed with Bengali members of Pakistan military, paramilitary and civilians during the Liberation War of 1971 to fight against the Pakistani Army and their collaborators to gain the independence of Bangladesh. 4 MAG Osmani, commander-in-chief of Bangladesh Forces, MA Rab, the chief of staff of the Bangladesh Army and CR Dutta, key sector commander of the Mukti Bahini during the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971. 5 It refers to the dialect or language spoken by the people of Sylhet in Bangladesh. 6 The Peace Committee, locally known as Shanti Committee in Bangla, was formed by the Pakistani army during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971. The main function of the Peace Committee was to aid the efforts of the Pakistani army to annihilate the Bengalis fighting for independence. The Peace Committee recruited the Razakars throughout East Pakistan (current Bangladesh). The leaders of the Peace Committee were collaborators of the Pakistani army, who committed genocides during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971. 7 ‘Razakar’ is an Arabic word which literally means volunteer. Razakars were formed as an East Pakistan Paramilitary force that aided the Pakistani army to  annihilate Mukti Bahini and Bengalis who demanded the right to selfdetermination. 8 To be a Muslim it needs to recite with believing the statement: “There is no deity except God and Muhammad is the messenger of God.” 9 ‘Pakistan Zindabad’ means “Long Live Pakistan.” These two words were at the beginning of the national anthem of East Pakistan, which was considered as the de facto national anthem of East Pakistan during its existence until 1971.

Genocide in Sylhet during the Liberation War of Bangladesh  223 10 The International Crimes Tribunal (Bangladesh) was set up in 2009 in the light of the International Crimes (Tribunals) Act 1973, which was enacted by the newly independent government of Bangladesh to investigate and prosecute perpetrators of the genocides committed in 1971 by the Pakistan army and its collaborators during the Liberation War. 11 Mujibnagar Government is the provisional government of Bangladesh, which was formed on 10 April 1971 at Baidyanathtala of the current Meherpur District. The place was renamed Mujibnagar by the proclamation of independence of Bangladesh in honour of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Later this provisional government was termed ‘Mujibnagar Government’. 12 ‘Imam’ is an Arabic word, which refers to an Islamic leadership position. In Bangladesh, Imam is commonly used as the title of worship leader of a Mosque. 13 Head moulovi is a teaching position at the school, who teaches Islamic religion. 14 The wetland ecosystem of the low-lying area of Bangladesh is called haor. 15 A lake-like wetland with static water in the low-lying area is called beel in Bangladesh. 16 Al Badar was a paramilitary force composed of the Bihari and Bengali Muslims who were the collaborators of the Pakistani army. The members of Al Badar took part in the operation directly or were accompanied by the Pakistani army against the Bengalis during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971. (‘Badar’ is an Arabic word that means ‘full moon’. It refers to the Battle of Badar of the history of Islam.) 17 The Hindu religious songs describe a legend or Sree Krishna and Radha or express devotion to a deity or discuss the spiritual incidence of Hinduism. 18 Islami Chattra Shangha is the predecessor of Bangladesh Islami Chhatrashibir, which is a student wing of Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami. Many leaders of Islami Chattra Shangha led the formation of Al-Badr, which was involved in the 1971 killing of Bengali intellectuals (New Age, 27 January 2016). 19 ‘Al-Shams’ is an Arabic word that means sun. It was a paramilitary wing of different anti-liberation Islamist political parties during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971. The leaders and activists of this force are convicted along with the Pakistani army for the genocides committed in Bangaldesh in 1971. The leaders and activists of the Al-Shams were the collaborators of the Pakistani army during the Liberation War of Bangladesh in 1971. 20 ‘Gonimoter maal’ means materials as well as women, men and children that are gained from the enemy during war.

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226  Tulshi Kumar Das and Mohammad Jahirul Hoque Rummel, R. J. (1994). Death by Government: Genocide and Mass Murder Since 1900. Transaction Publishers. https://www.amazon.com/Death-GovernmentGenocide-Murder-Since/dp/1560009276/ref=sr_1_1?crid=F76HIILJKMBZ &keywords=Death+by+Government%3A+Genocide+and+Mass+Murder+Since+ 1900&qid=1678218885&s=books&sprefix=death+by+government+genocide+ and+mass+murder+since+1900%2Cstripbooks-intl-ship%2C344&sr=1-1 Sartre, J.-P. (1971). On genocide. In R. A. Falk, G. Kolko, & R. J. Lifton (Eds.), Crimes of War: A Legal, Political-documentary, and Psychological Inquiry into the  Responsibility of Leaders, Citizens, and Soldiers for Criminal Acts in Wars (pp.  534–549). Random House. https://www.amazon.com/Crimes-war-politicaldocumentary-psychological-responsibility/dp/0394414152/ref=sr_1_1?crid= 19U1VSJZ0SCWA&keywords=Crimes+of+War%3A+A+Legal%2C+Politicaldocumentary%2C+and+Psychological+Inquiry+into+the+Responsibility+of+ Leaders%2C+Citizens%2C+and+Soldiers+for+Criminal+Acts+in+Wars+%28& qid=1678219466&s=books&sprefix=crimes+of+war+a+legal%2C+politicaldocumentary%2C+and+psychological+inquiry+into+the+responsibility+of+ leaders%2C+citizens%2C+and+soldiers+for+criminal+acts+in+wars+%2 Cstripbooks-intl-ship%2C664&sr=1-1 Sayeed, A. (2020, January 2). The barbaric Pakistani forces led by Niazi carried out massacres in Sylhet and Sunamganj. Prothom Alo. https://www.prothomalo.com/ bangladesh/%E0%A6%A8%E0%A6%BF%E0%A7%9F%E0%A6%BE%E0% A6%9C%E0%A6%BF%E0%A6%B0-%E0%A6%A8%E0%A7%87%E0%A6 %A4%E0%A7%83%E0%A6%A4%E0%A7%8D%E0%A6%AC%E0%A6%B E%E0%A6%A7%E0%A7%80%E0%A6%A8-%E0%A6%AC%E0%A6%B0% E0%A7%8D%E0%A6%AC%E0%A6%B0-%E0%A6%AA%E0%A6%BE%E0 %A6%95%E0%A6%BF%E0%A6%B8%E0%A7%8D%E0%A6%A4%E0%A 6%BE%E0%A6%A8%E0%A6%BF-%E0%A6%AC%E0%A6%BE%E0%A6% B9%E0%A6%BF%E0%A6%A8%E0%A7%80-%E0%A6%B8%E0%A6%BF %E0%A6%B2%E0%A7%87%E0%A6%9F Seton-Watson, H. (2020). Nations and States: An Enquiry into the Origins of Nations and the Politics of Nationalism (Second). Routledge. Shorma, A. (2016). Muktijudher Purbapor (Book in Bangla) (On the Eve of the Liberation War). Sylhet: Nagree. Siddiqui, M. (2021). Brihattar Sylheter Adiparba (Book in Bangla) (Early Period of Greater Sylhet). Dhaka: Dibyaprakash. https://www.haritbooks.com/productbrands/dibyaprakash/ Smith, R. W. (1999). State power and genocidal intent: On the uses of genocide in the twentieth century. In L. Chorbajian & G. Shirinian (Eds.), Studies in Comparative Genocide (pp. 3–14). Palgrave Macmillan. Sobhan, R. (1993). Bangladesh: Problems of Governance. Delhi: Konark Publishers. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. (n.d.). Polish victims. In Holocaust Encyclopedia. https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/polish-victims Vasel, J. J. (2018). In the beginning, there was no word …. The European Journal of International Law, 29(4), 1053–1056. Yuval-Davis, N. (2006). Belonging and the politics of belonging. Patterns of Prejudice, 40(3), 197–214. Yuval-Davis, N. (2011). Belonging and the politics of belonging. In J. McLaughlin, P. Phillimore, & D. Richardson (Eds.), Contestingrecognition: Culture, Identity and Citizenship (pp. 20–35). New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

10 Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka Politics of Sinhala-Tamil Tensions Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan

Introduction Sri Lanka is home to different ethnic groups such as the Sinhalese, Tamils, Sri Lankan Moors and Sri Lankan Malays, which form the social fabric of its society. However, the country’s ethnic contestations and identity formation are deeply embedded in its socio-political structures since the colonial era. The protracted civil war between the Sri Lankan government and Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) between 1983 and 2009 emerged from an ethnic conflict with a strong geographical dimension (Anandakugan 2020). While there is sufficient evidence to suggest that both sides committed some form of human rights violations during the final Eelam war (2006–2009), there are contestations on whether there was a clear intent to exterminate a large number of Tamils in the northern province of the country. There are also divergent perspectives on whether the campaign of ongoing militarisation in the northeast of the country is a targeted effort to reorganise the Sri Lankan society. Looking at all these mentioned issues, the first section of this chapter looks at whether the last Eelam war amounted to a genocide or a successful military operation against Tamil militancy, the second section discusses the history of ethnic relations between the Tamils and Sinhalese; the third section explores the highly protracted civil war, the fourth section looks at the last Eelam war, and the fifth section discusses the post-civil war developments. Genocide or Successful Anti-militancy Operation? The term ‘genocide’ was first coined by Raphaël Lemkin in 1944 and encoded as an official term in the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (CPPCG) in 1948 (Feierstein 1967, 2). Although the scholarship on genocide has grown beyond recognition over the last two decades, there is little consensus among the scholars working on genocide on defining terminologies, length and time frame. There are contestations on whether the term represents an old-age act of annihilating groups or communities, or it is a modern-day phenomenon that is qualitatively different from former acts (Feierstein 1967, 11). The term ‘genocide’ carries a DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-10

228  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan strong meaning where it is the worst form of human behaviour to deliberately kill a particular group of people due to ingrained and deep-seated hatred (Feierstein 1967, 11). Daniel Feierstein argues that the official definition only covers ethnic, racial or religious groups that were a target of systematic and deliberate destruction. Hence, he urges his readers to go beyond the official definition of genocide and include political, cultural and social groups. In contrast, it is observed that if a genocide is determined by irrational human beings, it would not be successful (Centeno 2020). Another interesting perspective is whether the act aims to reorganise society in the wake of widespread insecurity and terror. Feirstein’s argument that genocide is a social practice where society is reorganised prompts one to perceive violence in a different manner (Feierstein 1967, ii–viii). Following the Holocaust during the Second World War (1939–1945), several ethnic cleansing campaigns took place in Latin American countries, mass violence orchestrated by the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s and the genocide of the Tutsi in Rwanda in the 1990s. Examining the last Eelam war, many human rights groups argue that the Sri Lankan state carried out ethnic cleansing and/or genocide against its minority Tamil population in North-East Sri Lanka. In February 2015, Sri Lanka’s Northern Provincial Council passed a resolution that blamed the government of committing ‘genocide’ against Tamils (Ramakrishnan 2015). Moreover, in response to a question sent by the Indian newspaper The Hindu, Ravina Shamdasani, spokesperson for the high commissioner, stated via email: “This [the U.N. report] does not preclude such a finding [that genocide was committed] being made as a result of further criminal investigations, including by the hybrid court that we recommend” (Ramakrishnan 2015). The spokesperson added, “The crime of genocide requires specific objective and subjective elements. On the basis of the information we were able to gather, we did not come to the conclusion that these elements were met” (Ramakrishnan 2015). On the contrary, however, some defence strategists, mainly from Sri Lanka, consider the LTTE’s demise during the last Eelam war as an example of a successful counterinsurgency operation (Haelig 2017). Given the highly opaque and convoluted nature of the civil war, it is difficult to categorise and define the last Eelam war’s character. There are allegations that both the Sri Lankan state and the LTTE resorted to xenophobic attitudes and war crimes during the final Eelam war, including constant shelling and bombing of civilians in safe zones, the onslaught against the Muslim community and the internment of Tamil civilians. The next section will explore the history of the ethnic tensions in the lead up to the civil war that resulted in the otherisation of the Tamil community. Ethnic Tensions in the Colonial Era The civil war (1983–2009) in Sri Lanka stemmed from the ethnic differences and tensions whose roots could be traced to the colonial era. The Sinhala and Tamil ethnic identities came into being around the 12th century due to the

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  229 divisive and segregated forms of representation based on ethnicity, language and caste that survives in post-colonial Sri Lanka (Perinpanayagam 2008). In the colonial period, primordial identity and related socio-political developments were arguably major causal factors, discussed below, for SinhalaBuddhist nationalism’s revival. First, the resurrection of Sinhala-Buddhism was a response to colonial rule in Sri Lanka. The Kandyan resistance against British rule (1796–1818) had a trickle-down effect on smaller resistance movements in other regions that rejected missionary efforts to convert their people into Christianity. Although the initial response to proselytisation was an indifferent attitude, it gradually moved to a marked resistance even in places not directly affected by the uprising (Kaplan 2001, 196–205). By the 1860s, the local resistance to colonial rule became more visible where they accepted challenges to host public debates in which the doctrines of Christianity and Buddhism were openly discussed. In some famous debates, the Buddhist representatives even defeated their Christian rivals. For instance, the hosting of the Panadura debate between a Sri Lankan Buddhist orator Migettuwatte Gunananda Thera and Father David de Silva in 1873 greatly inspired a new generation of Sinhala Buddhist activists (Silva 2005, 427– 429). Gunananda was well spoken and witty in his arguments and appealed to the masses (Silva 2005). They defeated the Christians, who previously had ridiculed and underestimated their Buddhist counterparts in these public debates (Silva 2005, 427–429). Second, there were frequent invasions in the 9th century from South India that compelled the Sinhalese to abandon their dry-zone settlements, move to the wet-zone areas and eventually to the central hills where they currently reside (Perera 2016). Anuradhapura, once the thriving capital of the Sinhalese Kingdom, was abandoned due to multiple Indian invasions. This historical grudge from the colonial period turned into a modern reality. The majority of Buddhist Sinhalese continuously felt they were under siege by the more dynamic and entrepreneurial Hindu Tamils (Kaplan 2001, 196– 205). Moreover, the abandoned areas turned into a buffer zone separating the Tamil-dominated areas from the Sinhala ones. Although there was some degree of interaction and trade between the two regions’ rulers, there was a lack of free and fluid communication between the people (Kaplan 2001, 196–205). Third, there was a parallel development that paved the way for a revival of Buddhist confidence. This was after the setting up of the Ramanna Nikaya (Buddhist order) in 1865 that made a conscious effort to cleanse the sanga and return to a cleaner form of Buddhism independent of Hinduism (Silva 2005, 427–429). Buddhist revival had progressed tremendously by the 1880s where the Vesak Day celebration was resuscitated along with agitation to make Vesak Day an official holiday. The Buddhist revivalism was the initial step in the regaining national pride in the country. The SinhalaBuddhist community referred to the Mahavamsa and the earlier Dipavamsa records for historical detail (Seoighe 2016, 451). While both chronicles are

230  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan a combination of fact and myth, they explain Buddhism’s special place in the island’s political and social consciousness. They capture the Buddha’s visit to Sri Lanka long before Buddhism’s official arrival on the island and how he established his divine mission there (Seoighe 2016, 451). Fourth, the Tamil community that gained disproportionately in employment and education sectors under the British colonial practices of divide and rule. Moreover, they could rely on the support of their Indian counterparts in Tamil Nadu (Hayward and Raheem 2017, 248). The benefits gained by the Tamils and the ignorance of the colonial system developed a perception among the majority that they were cornered by their minority counterparts. Such perception strengthened the Sinhala-Buddhist ethnic sentiment (DeVotta, 2016, 78). Prior to independence in 1948, there were strong links between the Hindu and Buddhist communities in Sri Lanka. For instance, the Nayakkars had Hindu and South Indian origins, even as they frequented Theravada Buddhism while getting Hindu brides for Buddhist kings. For their political benefits, the British broke this link and established ethnic polarisation that continues to run deep in the Sri Lankan society (Kaplan 2011, 196–205). Ethnic Tensions in Post-Independence Sri Lanka Since independence from the British in 1948, the country’s political structure shifted from autonomous political units to a consolidated and single unitary system. However, like many other post-colonial states, Sri Lanka could not deal with the conflicting needs, interests and demands of the different ethnic groups. As a result, ethnic tension became apparent in independent Sri Lanka. The Sinhalese and Tamil political leaders were unable to reach feasible compromise amid the varying claims and demands by different political groups. Despite the calls for greater protection of minority rights, successive Sri Lankan governments have leveraged on Sinhalese nationalistic sentiments to secure their own interests, political power and pool of resources—to rectify the perceived and imagined injustices of the colonial period, including the disproportionate advantage given to the Tamils (Hayward and Raheem 2017, 248). As a result, the political position of the Sinhalese-Buddhist majority was strengthened through the enactment of the 1948, 1972 and 1978 constitutions (Pararajasingham 2018). In the 1950s, the Sinhala-Buddhist nationalists were against the government’s granting of Tamil minority rights, including meaningful devolution of powers to the northeast region because, as they perceived, it would undermine the state’s unitary structure (Veluppilai 2006, 95). They had fashioned an ideology that validated majoritarian rule and neglected the interests of the minorities. For Sinhala nationalists, religious pluralism was a threat to their identity and Sinhalese way of life. The government policies were mostly guided by the demands of Sinhala nationalists which created further divisions in the society and worsened the conflict between the ethnic groups.

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  231 For instance, one of the first language agitations in Sri Lanka started in 1956 when the government implemented a new rule under which the licence plates on all vehicles including private cars would have the Sinhalese alphabet Sri (DeVotta 2004, 109). The Tamils protested against the law through acts of civil disobedience to voice their unhappiness, including using the Tamil Sri on Tamil-owned vehicles and boycotting some buses. Sinhalese groups reacted to the anti-Sri campaign in a mob-like manner by smearing tar over Tamil letters on public buildings, street signs, buses and commercial boards. In some instances, they even painted the Sinhala Sri on the foreheads of anyone who looked Tamil (DeVotta 2004, 111). The anti-Sri movement in Sri Lanka became an acid test for Tamils, who rejected efforts to impose the Sinhala language on them. Ethnic tensions further widened after the passing of the Sinhala Only Act in the same year that declared Sinhala the country’s sole official language. The act made it harder for Tamils to gain access to employment and education opportunities, especially in university and local government jobs. Tamil civilians protesting against the implementation of the act were attacked by Sinhala mobs resulting in a four-day riot. By the 1960s, the secular, multi-cultural and multi-ethnic model was replaced with a communal one in favour of the Sinhalese community. The two main political parties of Sri Lanka—the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) and United National Party (UNP)—competed with each other on who would better protect the Sinhalese majority interests at the expense of the minorities in order to gain their votes (Cawthra and Luckham 2003, 182). Hence, the gradual shift towards a hostile and strong communal identity was supported by mainstream politicians and Buddhist monks who enjoyed a great deal of political and social power. In 1971, the government enforced the standardisation policy that gave a higher benchmark for Tamil students applying for university (Subramanian 2014, 35–40). The 1972 Constitution, which exemplifies this Sinhala Buddhist project, reduced minority groups to second-class citizens (Hayward and Raheem 2017, 248). It also gave Buddhism a central position in the country. The constitution prevented the judiciary from assessing the constitutional validity of legislation. New citizenship laws also disenfranchised many Tamils, especially those of Indian origin, brought by the British to work on tea plantations, and their efforts to repeal the new citizenship legislation were futile (Subramanian 2014, 35–40). The ethnic discriminatory policies resulted in the Tamil nationalist movement that sought to challenge the majoritarian structure and devolve greater powers into the Northern and Eastern areas. Negotiations and discussions between the government and Federal Party had some success, including the signing of new agreements such as the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam Pact of 1958 and the Senanayake-Chelvanayakam Pact of 1965 (Subramanian, 2014). Despite its limitations, the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam Pact was a  milestone as it epitomised a political agreement between the Sinhalese and  Tamil leaders for the first time. Each side agreed to concessions, with

232  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan Bandaranaike consenting to devolve power to the regional councils and Chelvanayakam agreeing to less than federalism. However, there was resistance from certain sections of the Sinhalese and Tamil groups who felt that the pact was not in their respective communities’ best interests. For instance, within the Tamil community there were varying perceptions of the degree of autonomy given to the provinces. On the other hand, the Sinhalese nationalists felt that the two pacts would undermine the country’s unitary state structure that resulted in their abrogations (DeVotta 2005, 150). Highly Protracted Civil War Minority communities viewed the centralisation of power as a tool to implement policies and institutions that benefitted the Sinhalese community (Deegalle 2006, 1–2). In return, the weak local government structures received little powers, institutional support and funding. The bouts of initial violence in the country gradually morphed into protracted conflict, including low-intensity militant activity in the North-East. In 1983, ethnic tensions were sparked when 13 soldiers were ambushed and killed by the LTTE in the northern Jaffna peninsula that provoked anti-Tamil riots across the country (Al Jazeera 2007), known as Black July (BBC 2013). Hundreds of Tamil homes and businesses were looted, destroyed and burned, and many were killed too. Angry mobs attacked several Tamil-dominated neighbourhoods, and around 100,000 Tamils in Colombo were displaced. Tamil women were raped or compelled to appear naked in front of angry and abusive crowds (BBC 2013). Members of the police were, at best, mere bystanders and, at worst, colluded in the riots (Human Rights Watch 2004). Prior to Black July, many Tamils were sympathetic to the Tamil cause but did not fully support militancy against the government. The anti-Tamil pogrom radically changed the landscape with a significant increase in membership for all the Tamil militant groups in the country (Bass and Amarasingam 2016, 5). The pogrom was a defining period when the conflict escalated into a fullfledged civil war. It also prompted questions on inter-ethnic relations and the state’s negligence in preventing or minimising the violence. Many Sri Lankan Tamils realised that their fundamental safety was at stake and prompted them to migrate to various countries, giving rise to the Tamil diaspora and transnationalising the conflict (Human Rights Watch 2004; see also, Funding the “Final War”: LTTE intimidation and extortion in the Tamil diaspora 2006). Many Tamils fled to Canada given that the reforms in the country’s immigration and refugee policy in the 1980s accommodated a large number of post1983 refugees. Toronto also helped the asylum seekers to expedite their refugee hearing process and increase their average acceptance rate to approximately 85% instead of the usual 60–70% (Amarasingam 2016, 205). Tamil nationalism was an equally opposing force to Sinhala nationalism. The Sri Lankan government was confronted with a Tamil guerrilla insurgency that was as spiteful as the ones in Iraq and Afghanistan (Gunia 2019).

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  233 The LTTE invented the notorious suicide belt, engineered the use of female suicide bombers and institutionalised suicide bombing. The LTTE leader, Velupillai Prabhakaran encouraged young militants to join the Black Tigers, the suicide attacks wing of the LTTE, by glorifying martyrdom (Gunia 2019). In the 2000s, the LTTE orchestrated a string of vengeful attacks and murders, including the assassination of then Foreign Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar in his official residence. The LTTE had gained ground in many areas in the North and the East and established a de facto Tamil state with courts, police and taxation system under its control. It also managed to secure significant funding from diaspora groups by perpetuating the Tamil minority’s narrative in a vulnerable position within the wider region (Hayward and Raheem 2017, 255). Over time, the group equipped itself with the most sophisticated artillery, tanks and weapons to buy arms in Asian and African black markets. While the majority of the country’s politicians pandered to hardline Sinhala-Buddhist groups for their political mobilisation, these associations also depended on the state for their own mileage. Many of these hardliners opposed the idea of an ethnic solution with the Tamils and openly promoted war (Uyangoda 2007, 1–5). They contended that the Buddha’s prohibition on killing applied merely to the Sangha and not to lay society. Nonetheless, H.L. Seneviratne has written that the entire Sangha (Buddhist order) cannot be blamed for advocating violence since it is not a monolithic organisation with one consolidated ideology. The responsibility of the monastery-led national revival has been two-tiered, comprising of cultural and economic aspects (Seneviratne 2007, 88–94). The economic project was taken up in the 1930s and 1940s by a group of monks who were interested in rural development-peasantry, health, conflict resolution and rural self-government. These pragmatic monks accepted cultural and ethnic diversity as a fact of Sri Lankan life and represented a continuity that was accommodating, pluralist and inclusivist. One such monk was Baddegama Samitha, who took a positive stand towards creating long-term peace among different ethnic groups in Sri Lanka. In 2002, he made a passionate speech in the parliament on the role of religious leaders could play in the country’s peace and social cohesion processes. He also criticised those who were stirring up communal tensions within the Sinhalese majority (Deegalle 2006, 1–2). In the cultural aspect, the second group of monks pushed for a hegemonic and exclusionist appropriation of the country for the majority Sinhalese and their religion. They used the Sinhala-Buddhist nationalist slogan to mobilise themselves against providing the Tamils and other minorities with their fundamental rights (Deegalle 2006, 1–2). The Sinhala-Buddhist nationalism in the 1980s and 1990s was represented by the right-wing nationalist political party Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU), which preferred a military solution over a probable peace agreement with the LTTE. The group that drew its assertions from a plethora of Buddhist revivalist movements insisted that the Tamil community’s territorial claims were unlawful. These movements had a rather ideological and organisational leaning (Holt 2016, 107).

234  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan On the other side, the Tamil nationalist project led by the LTTE brought its resentment and frustration faced by the Tamil community that resulted in the construction of an ethnic consciousness viewed as the only alternative to one’s survival in Sri Lanka (DeVotta 2019). In Colombo, the LTTE took Tamil nationalism too far by inflicting violence on unarmed civilians. For instance, hundreds of Muslims living in the North-East were kidnapped and had their goods stolen. During the civil war, Muslims supported the government and opposed the separatist movement. Those living close to LTTEcontrolled places played significant roles by providing the military with intelligence on the LTTE, resulting in the mass eviction of 60,000 Muslims from the northern mainland and the horrific massacre in Kattankudy in 1990 (DeVotta 2019). Furthermore, the LTTE’s violent campaign did not resonate with the entire Tamil community. Some LTTE cadres became uncomfortable with the centralised power structure intertwined with Prabhakaran’s increasing dictatorial tendencies. The group had no reservations in obliterating their own people if they had to. Tamil families in LTTE-controlled areas were forced to give up one son to fight in the jungle trenches (Human Rights Watch 2004). Moreover, many moderate Tamils such as lawyer and politician Neelan Tiruchelvam were assassinated for urging the LTTE to accept concessions from the government and end the war. In 1978, Prabhakaran killed one of his men who was suspected of defecting to a rival militant Tamil group. For him, the idea of a Tamil leaving the group or suggesting a compromise was tantamount to betrayal (Subramanian 2014, 85). As a result, many Tamils who had supported the LTTE in the early years either left or distanced themselves because they could no longer identify with the Eelam cause. Paradoxically, the LTTE was fighting against the Sri Lankan state’s ethnocratic nature only to create an ethnocratic state of its own (Uyangoda 2011, 55). Both sides adopted communal and xenophobic attitudes to strengthen the status and position of their own community. On the one hand, the deeply embedded prejudices by the Sri Lankan state led to the otherisation of minority groups, particularly the Tamils, and on the other hand LTTE evicted Muslims from areas under their de facto control in efforts to establish an independent Tamil state. Propaganda was also extensively used by both the government and the Tamil Tigers during the civil war. While the state-run media sanitised, manipulated and politically packaged the conflict before feeding it to the masses, the LTTE had a media and propaganda unit where training videos were frequently shown in villages to entice child soldiers to join them (Subramanian 2014, 131). The early members of the group felt that violence in a certain direction was justified. However, there was no reason for them to continue fighting for the cause when the violence became senseless and spinning out of control. Journalist Samanth Subramanian conducted an interview with a former LTTE member Raghavan, who believed in the armed struggle and a separate homeland for the Tamils in the early days. However, he felt distressed with Prabhakaran’s brutal tactics, including

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  235 compelling LTTE cadres to kill their own family members if they were a part of a rival militant group, prompting him to leave and flee to the UK (Subramanian 2014, 83–89). Subramanian also gives an interesting first-hand account of stories of Tamil officers who worked for the Sri Lankan army during the civil war. The author writes that while there was approximately 20–30% Tamils working in the military in the 1970s, it dropped close to zero by the 1990s (Subramanian 2014, 58–61). Patriotic Tamil officers gradually lost their enchantment with the military when they faced institutional discrimination, including stalling of their promotions, racist slurs turning mainstream and other officers spying on them to ensure that they were not working for the LTTE (Subramanian 2014, 58–61). There were also instances when Tamil-speaking Muslims were recruited instead of ethnic Tamils for posts that required translating intercepted Tamil communications (Subramanian 2014, 76–77). The preferential treatment given to the majority Sinhalese population in all public spheres resulted in the security forces, and even the civil service became predominately Sinhalese (Kaplan 2011, 196–205). Tamils who realised that learning Sinhala was necessary for their careers were considered traitors by the Tamil trade union (Subramanian 2014, 55–57). Simultaneously, Tamils working for the military were shunned by their own community for working for the ‘enemy’ (Subramanian 2014, 55–57). Nonetheless, some Tamil diaspora sections resonated with the cause continued to provide political and financial assistance to the LTTE. While some diaspora members dominated the societal structures and had a strong ideological commitment, others were at the receiving end of harassment, extortion and intimidation, including journalists and activists who attempted to expose the LTTE’s mass atrocities (Human Rights Watch 2004). One of the most notorious attacks took place in February 1993 when four men in a parking lot assaulted activist and journalist D.B.S Jeyaraj for his critical reporting of the LTTE through his Muncharie newspaper (Funding the “Final War”: LTTE intimidation and extortion in the Tamil diaspora 2006, 16). At the same time, majority of the victims were too afraid to report the instances of harassment and extortion to the police, the few who reported did not usually receive a swift response from the authorities. When the Sri Lankan army launched an offensive in Jaffna in 1987, India issued warnings that the political and humanitarian implications could lead to food shortages and refugee exodus to Tamil Nadu in India. New Delhi responded through humanitarian assistance by providing an airdrop of food over Jaffna called Operation Poomaalai (Mehta 2009, 162). However, it did not seek the approval of the Sri Lankan government. The heightened political engagement resulted in the signing of the Indo-Sri Lankan accord in 1987 between former Sri Lankan president Junius Jayewardene and former Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi that paved the way for a ceasefire between the Sri Lankan state and the LTTE and deployment of an Indian peacekeeping force (IPKF) of approximately 75,000 soldiers. New Delhi

236  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan soon after deployed a small IPKF to oversee the ceasefire and surrender weapons by the LTTE (Mehta 2009, 158). Following a short honeymoon period, the LTTE refused to give up its weapons. The IPKF’s peacekeeping phase shifted to peace enforcement. The small-sized IPKF expanded into a four-division force to pursue offensive operations against the LTTE (Mehta 2009, 158). At the same time, India hoped that the terrorist group would reconsider its decision and rejoin the political process. The change in orientation of being friends with the LTTE to enemy worsened the situation in which the IPKF forces were unprepared and ill-equipped. The LTTE, which had no intentions of rejoining the peace process, had entered into a secret deal with former President Ranasinghe Premadasa to get rid of IPKF from the country (Mehta 2009, 159). Eventually, around 1,200 Indian peacekeepers lost their lives, and it was forced to withdraw in 1990 (LePoer 2002, 3–4). The LTTE did not want New Delhi to redeploy its peacekeepers to Sri Lanka again and hence assassinated Rajiv Gandhi at an election rally in Tamil Nadu in 1991 (DNA India 2020). The Tamil Tigers were infuriated with New Delhi’s efforts to forge the Indo-Lanka accord in 1987 that, in their opinion, did not address the concerns of the Tamil community. Final Eelam War The Sri Lankan government declared its victory in May 2009 when the army killed many top military personnel of the LTTE, including Prabhakaran, ending one of the world’s deadliest armed conflicts. Pictures of Prabhakaran’s dead body were circulated in the media, signifying the end of the civil strife. The Uppsala Conflict Data Program has estimated that approximately 65,365 people were killed from 1989 to 2009 by state and non-state actors (UCDP 2020). The international concern has been on the high death toll during the last few months of the civil war when the LTTE and Tamil civilians were trapped in a narrow stretch of land. Since then, there are contestations on whether the events that unfolded during the final stages of the war constituted a successful counter-terrorism operation or should be decried as a genocidal or ethnic cleansing act (Kingsbury 2012, 82). There are contestations on whether the government’s majoritarian policies, including the tactics it used in its war against the LTTE, was a deliberate attempt to target the Tamil community in Sri Lanka. There are strong allegations that the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE resorted to war crimes during the civil war’s final stages. This could arguably include the onslaught against the Muslim community by the LTTE, as stated earlier. Alternatively, there could be another set of serious charges levied at the government and Tamil Tigers, including war crimes, crimes against humanity and gross human rights violations. There is also grave concern about the enforced disappearances that took place during the civil war, with a backlog of approximately 60,000 to 100,000 since the late 1980s (Amnesty International 2020).

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  237 Although Colombo signed the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearances in December 2015 (Ministry of Foreign Relations – Sri Lanka 2015), most of the cases of the disappearance have been largely unaddressed, including the trauma of the ‘white van’.1 Another way of determining whether genocide took place during the ethnic conflict is using the mens rea (criminal intent) principle, which states that the intent of the crime could constitute as genocide (Kingsbury 2012, 82). The mens rea principle states that the guilty party had committed an offense with a deliberate intent to cause harm (Cornell Law School 2022). American lawyer Bruce Fein has said that former Sri Lankan president Mahinda Rajapaksa and Sarath Fonseka, former general of the Sri Lanka army, should be convicted of 12 counts of genocide, including constant shelling and bombing of Tamil civilians in safe zones (Kingsbury 2012, 86). In January 2009, a few months prior to the end of the war, around 750 Tamils were killed, and over 2,250 were maimed (Kingsbury 2012, 86–87). The government vindicated the internment of Tamil civilians on the grounds that they were looking for LTTE militants. The proof for the allegations, according to Fein, was based on court documents, affidavits and eyewitness reporting (Kingsbury 2012, 86–87). However, the Mahinda Rajapaksa government refuted these claims and labelled its encounters as ‘humanitarian operations’ that were aimed at saving Tamil civilians from the clutches of the LTTE. In this narrative, the military is perceived as the saviour and the LTTE as vicious for using civilians as human shields. One reasonable question that has been asked is what the government and military were supposed to do when the Tamil Tigers were destroying Sri Lankan society and launching violent attacks against innocent people. Given the LTTE’s tendency to withdraw from peace negotiations and ceasefires, it was difficult for the government to trust them. There are also arguments that the country is better off without the presence of the LTTE. However, the government’s tactic of defeating extremism was through aggressive military force that did not differentiate between militants and civilians. This strategy advocates turning a blind eye to collateral damage of the war in which many innocents are killed indiscriminately. The successive Sri Lankan governments have failed to exhibit any political will and genuineness to launch proper commissions of inquiry on wartime investigations and  take responsibility for the high civilian death toll. In instances where homegrown mechanisms were launched, such as the Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission (LLRC) under Mahinda Rajapaksa’s tenure, they were weak institutions with an inadequate mandate, lack of independence and lack of witness protection (Cronin-Furman 2020, 136–140). Furthermore, countries such as India, Iran, China, Russia and Pakistan, with their own ethnic issues, effectively protected Colombo from war crimes investigations under South-South solidarity against a perceived Western imperialist project (Cronin-Furman 2020, 136–140).

238  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan The state’s version of the highly opaque and convoluted war does not leave any room for an alternative interpretation. In addition to statements by UN officials and others concerned with the alleged atrocities, the civil war has also been perceived differently within the country by the Sinhalese and Tamil communities. While most of the Sinhalese have accepted this linear narrative of the civil war, the Tamils have rejected it to create their own versions of the truth (Perera 2016, 70–72). As a result, there has not been a mutually agreed account of what happened during the last few stages of the war, and the country’s history has been and will continue to be narrated differently based on the individual’s background and experiences. The dominant version of the war is what the “victor” state narrates. Developments after the Final Eelam War The LTTE’s military defeat did not trigger a transformation of the broader political infrastructure, although there were attempts at direct negotiations and discussions (Hayward and Raheem 2017, 245). The power asymmetry between the winning and losing parties and the void in a political transition resulted in a lack of a political will to address the root causes of the conflict. Instead, it decimated support for Tamil-dominated structures and propagated the narrative that Sri Lanka is a unified Sinhala country. It also marked a ‘second independence’ (Seoighe 2016, 451) for the country where territorial control of the North-East provinces by the Tamils were handed back to the government. Mahinda Rajapaksa sought to consolidate his power and garner support by projecting the military victory as the preservation of SinhalaBuddhist tradition during his tenure. The LTTE’s military defeat epitomised the type of Sinhala Buddhist nationalism that he firmly believed and promoted. The ethnic tensions continued even after the end of the civil war, driven by economic, social, and political factors. Some of the underlying factors have persisted and worsened due to the enforcement of majoritarian ethno-religious policies driven by the Sinhala-Buddhist ideology under Mahinda Rajapaksa’s helm. These nationalistic attitudes have been reflected in speeches by political leaders. Field Marshal Sarath Fonseka said in 2015: I strongly believe that this country belongs to the Sinhalese, but there are minority communities, and we treat them like our people. We being the majority of the country 75%, we will never give in and we have the right to protect the country. We are also a strong nation. They can live in this country with us. But, they must not try to, under the pretext of being a minority, demand undue things. (Venugopal 2018, 29) There are increased efforts to militarise, change demography and securitise development systematically and in organised manner (Jones 2015). Some

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  239 academics have contended that public surveillance in the North-East continues after the war (Rasaratnam 2016, 4). The military has played a proactive role in development, civil administration and economic activity. The military’s rehabilitation program for former LTTE soldiers was deemed a noncooperative and non-inclusive endeavour because it did not involve the participation of Tamil leaders. The military is also accused of appropriating Tamil land, with tens of thousands of military personnel being deployed in the North-East and the army expanding its property development on these areas (Satkunanathan 2013). The government has termed this as ‘high-security zones’. While the military has historically played a role in commercial activities, it has expanded its role into large-scale property development, business ventures, holiday resorts, farming, restaurants and construction projects (Satkunanathan 2013). The armed forces are running some development, agriculture and reconstruction programmes and permission to initiate new projects has been subjected to the military’s approval. Some have argued that the use of the military for development projects rather than the civil administration is a more effective and feasible option given its track record of delivery (Satkunanathan 2013). On the other hand, there is a criticism that the military holds an unequal balance of power over a weaker civil administration plagued by inconsistencies and irregularities. Instead of strengthening the civil service, the state has transferred the power into the hands of the military. The government is believed to have plans to alter the ethnic demography of the areas by resettling thousands of Sinhalese families in the North-East. Subramanian has written that these families from the South were being relocated in properties that were snatched from the Tamils (Subramanian 2014, 13–17). There are also reports that Buddhist religious symbols have penetrated Tamil-dominated areas where barely any Sinhalese families lived (Minority Rights Group International 2011, 12–14). It became a common practice to build a Buddhist shrine in places where a Bodhi tree was found in  north-east. Another issue has been of replacing Tamil names with Sinhala ones. For instance, in Jaffna the name Thiruvadinilai was renamed as Jambukolapatune (Minority Rights Group International 2011, 12–14). Sinhalisation in the North-East has gained greater visibility. Although Neil DeVotta has argued that the inception of the Yahapalana government (2015– 2020) has led to greater religious and ethnic tolerance, the process of Sinhalisation continued during its tenure. Former Sri Lankan President Maithripala Sirisena (2015–2019) extended an order that transferred police powers to the military under the pretext of public security. Moreover, Sirisena’s administration also upheld its unitary state structure and Buddhism’s special place in the constitution. Diana Oncioiu has argued that the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ concept can be used  to fathom extreme forms of violence. In highly divisive societies, the ‘us’  represents the superior group and ‘them’ as the inferior who poses a

240  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan significant threat to one’s identity and needs to be ‘eliminated’ (Oncioiu 2016, 27–29). In Sri Lanka, the Tamil community has perceived itself as culturally and linguistically different from the Sinhalese. Conscious of this unique and disparate identity, the proliferation of Sinhala-Buddhist culture is likely to be perceived as cultural destruction and a diminution of their personal space. While the increasing militarisation could be justified as a necessary evil to prevent the LTTE’s resurrection, this could lead to great distrust between the state and the Tamil community. It could also perpetuate minority fears and anxieties that the government does not want to transition to a sustainable peace. Sasanka Perera has argued that while victory structures were built in the North-East to commemorate war heroes, memory spaces for civilians and combatants who died were lacking (Perera 2016, 70–72). The government also destroyed many LTTE structures such as bunkers, cemeteries and Prabhakaran’s house to eradicate its legacy. There has also been work written about memory studies and how the Tamil community’s experiences of repression and discrimination have persisted in the post-war era (Dibbert 2016). Sinhalisation and militarisation could be deemed as social practices to reorganise and destroy the fabric of Sri Lankan society. In Sri Lanka, the war aimed to obliterate social relationships of equality and respect and replace them with power relations. It is a process that began long before and concluded long after the actual persecution of the targeted group. Conclusion This chapter has explored the various debates on whether the Sri Lankan state and the LTTE committed genocide during the last phases of the civil war. Sri Lanka lacks a comprehensive national identity for its heterogeneous community. The Sinhala-Buddhist nationalists would continue to perceive minority groups as a threat to their culture and way of life. Although the LTTE following its obliteration in 2009 no longer poses a threat to the dominant ethnostate structure, ethnic conflict is driven by social, political and economic factors. As the Sinhala-Buddhist nationalist identity strengthens under Gotabaya’s administration, international calls for liberal reforms are likely to increase as well. The government’s resistance to negotiations for a political solution and retraction from its promises to build a liberal order has led to greater international pressure over wartime accountability and reconciliation. Note 1 White vans were vans without number plates that abducted critics and dissidents of the state during the civil war. The Rajapaksa family was accused of being behind this ‘white vans’ scheme.

Ethnic Violence in Sri Lanka  241 References Al Jazeera (2007, March 27), Timeline of Sri Lanka’s civil war. https://www.aljazeera. com/news/2007/3/27/timeline-of-sri-lankas-civil-war-2. Accessed on 15 April 2022. Amarasingam, A. (2016). Post-War Sri Lanka and the “Big Bad” Diaspora. In Amarnath Amarasingam and Daniel Bass, Sri Lanka: The Struggle for Peace in the Aftermath of War (p. 205). C. Hurst & Co. Amnesty International. (2020, February 14). Sri Lanka: Fulfil the Demands of the Families of the Disappeared. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2020/02/ sldisappearedfeb142020/#:~:text=The%20Sri%20Lankan%20government%20 must,on%2014%20February%20in%20Colombo. Accessed on 2 January 2021. Anandakugan, N. (2020, 31 August). The Sri Lankan Civil War and Its History, Revisited in 2020. Harvard International Review. Bass, D. and Amarasingam, A. (2016). Introduction: Problems and Prospects for Post-War Sri Lanka. In Amarnath Amarasingam and Daniel Bass, Sri Lanka: The Struggle for Peace in the Aftermath of War (p. 5). C. Hurst & Co. BBC (2013, July 23). Remembering Sri Lanka’s Black July. https://www.bbc.com/ news/world-asia-23402727. Accessed on 16 April 2022. Cawthra, G., and Luckham, R. (2003). Governing Insecurity: Democratic Control of  Military and Security Establishments in Transitional Democracies (p. 182). Zed Books Ltd. Centeno, M. A. (2020). Paradoxes of War, Week 8. Coursera. https://www.coursera. org/learn/war. Accessed on 16 January 2021. Cornell Law School “Mens Rea”. https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/mens_rea. Accessed on 15 April 2022. Cronin-Furman, K. (2020). Human Rights Half Measures: Avoiding Accountability in Postwar Sri Lanka. World Politics, 72(1), 136–140. De Silva, K. M. (2005). A History of Sri Lanka (pp. 427–429). Penguin Books India. Deegalle, M. (2006). JHU Politics for Peace and a Righteous State. In Mahinda Deegalle, Buddhism, Conflict and Violence in Modern Sri Lanka (pp. 1–2). Routledge. DeVotta, N. (2004). Blowback: Linguistic Nationalism, Institutional Decay, and Ethnic Conflict in Sri Lanka (p. 109). Stanford University Press. DeVotta, N. (2005). From Ethnic Outbidding to Ethnic Conflict: The Institutional Bases for Sri Lanka’s Separatist War. Nations and Nationalism, 11(1), 150. DeVotta, N. (2016). Engaging Sinhalese Buddhist Majoritarianism and Countering Religious Animus in Sri Lanka: Recommendations for the Incoming U.S. Administration. The Review of Faith & International Affairs, 14(2), 78. DeVotta, N. (2019, May 4). To Explain Sri Lanka’s Bombings, Look Within, East Asia Forum. https://www.eastasiaforum.org/2019/05/04/to-explain-sri-lankasbombings-look-within/. Accessed on 9 March 2023. Dibbert, T. (2016, May 7). The repression of Sri Lanka’s Tamils Continues, The Diplomat. https://thediplomat.com/2016/05/the-repression-of-sri-lankas-tamilscontinues/. Accessed on 19 April 2022. DNA India. (2020, May 21). Rajiv Gandhi’s 29th Death Anniversary Today, WAS Assassinated in Suicide Bomb Attack. https://www.dnaindia.com/india/report-rajivgandhi-s-29th-death-anniversary-today-was-assassinated-in-suicide-bomb-attack2825466. Accessed on 12 December 2020.

242  Roshni Kapur and Amit Ranjan Feierstein, D. (1967). Genocide as Social Practice (p. 2). Rutgers University Press. Funding the “Final War”: LTTE intimidation and extortion in the Tamil diaspora. (2006, March 14). Volume 18, No. 1(C). Human Rights Watch (p. 16). Gunia, A. (2019, April 25). The Birthplace of the Suicide Belt.’ Sri Lanka’s Deadly History of Suicide Bombings. TIME. https://time.com/5575956/sri-lanka-historysuicide-bombings-birthplace-invented/. Accessed on 9 March 2023. Haelig, Carlton G. (2017). “The Sri Lankan Civil War: Turning COIN on it Head and Learning to Adopt” Small Wars Journal. https://smallwarsjournal.com/jrnl/art/thesri-lankan-civil-war-turning-coin-on-its-head-and-learning-to-adapt. Accessed on 21 January 2021. Hayward, S., and Raheem, M. (2017). Sri Lanka: Social Cohesion…. In the Eye of the Beholder. In Fletcher D. Cox and Timothy D. Sisk, Peacebuilding in Deeply Divided Societies (p. 248). Palgrave Macmillan. Holt, J. C. (2016). Buddhist Extremists and Muslim Minorities: Religious Conflict in Contemporary Sri Lanka. Oxford University Press. Human Rights Watch (2004, November). Sri Lanka: Tamil Tigers Forcibly Recruit Child Soldiers. https://www.hrw.org/news/2004/11/11/sri-lanka-tamil-tigers-forciblyrecruit-child-soldiers. Accessed on 14 January 2021. Jones, S. (2015, May 28). Sri Lanka Accused of Waging ‘Silent War’ as Tamil land is  Appropriated by Army. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/globaldevelopment/2015/may/28/sri-lanka-army-land-grabs-tamil-displacement-reportoakland-institute. Accessed on 9 March 2023. Kaplan, R. (2001). Monsoon: The Indian Ocean and the Future of American Power (pp. 196–205). Random House Paperbacks. Kingsbury, D. (2012). Sri Lanka and the Responsibility to Protect: Politics, Ethnicity and Genocide (p. 82). Routledge. LePoer, Barbara Leitch, (2002). Sri Lanka: Background and U.S. Relations. In Walter Nubin, Sri Lanka: Current Issues and Historical Background (pp. 3–4). Nova Science Publishers. Mehta, Ashok K. (2009). India’s Counterinsurgency Campaign in Sri Lanka. In Sumit Ganguly and David P. Fidler, India and Counterinsurgency: Lessons Learned (p. 162). Routledge. Ministry of Foreign Relations, Government of Sri Lanka. (2015, December 15). Sri Lanka Signs International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearances. https://mfa.gov.lk/sri-lanka-signs-international-conventionfor-the-protection-of-all-persons-from-enforced-disappearances/. Accessed on 18 January 2021. Minority Rights Group international (2011). No War, No Peace: The Denial of Minority Rights and Justice in Sri Lanka (pp. 12–14). https://minorityrights.org/ publications/no-war-no-peace-the-denial-of-minority-rights-and-justice-in-sri-lankajanuary-2011/. Accessed on 14 January 2021. Oncioiu, D. 2016. Ethnic Nationalism and Genocide Constructing “the Other” in Romania and Serbia (pp. 27–29). Amsterdam University Press. Pararajasingham, A. (2018, December 5). An Evaluation of Sri Lanka’s Democratic Credentials. Asia Times. https://asiatimes.com/2018/12/an-evaluation-of-sri-lankasdemocratic-credentials/. Accessed on 9 March 2023. Perera, S. (2016). Warzone Tourism in Sri Lanka: Tales from Darker Places in Paradise (pp. 70–72). Sage.

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11 Xenophobia in South Africa Can this Morph into Genocide? Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon

Introduction It is now well known that genocide does not occur overnight. It develops gradually over time and gains momentum, as tell-tale signs such as hate speech, insults, incitement, discrimination, dehumanisation and assaults are often deliberately ignored. Although the South African government has primarily been in denial about acknowledging this challenge, xenophobia is one of the most serious problems facing the country. Across the political and ideological spectrum in South Africa, in many cases the language used by government ministers, bureaucrats and those responsible for essential services at the local level (e.g., health care) have been blatantly xenophobic. There is a tendency to stigmatise immigrants as criminals, as people who undermine economic development and take jobs from locals. This has fuelled prejudicial attitudes towards immigrants, particularly those from other African countries. These are important antecedent indicators that can anticipate the potential and serve as a catalyst for violence against targeted groups. This chapter reviews the escalating incidents of xenophobic violence since 1994 in South Africa, focusing on the loss of lives, injuries, loss of livelihoods, detention and displacement. The chapter questions popular stereotypes that South Africa is being flooded by migrants, who undermined employment opportunities for locals, especially in the informal sector. The chapter draws attention to how statements by politicians and traditional leaders fuel xenophobia. A key contention is a potential for xenophobia to morph into genocide. The UN has developed the following definition of genocide as acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, as such: killing members of the group; causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part (United Nations, n.d.: 1). The chapter concludes that there is a need for a more sensitive, human rights approach to address the plight of migrants, which is cognisance of the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-11

Xenophobia in South Africa  245 circumstances that contributed to undocumented immigration escalation. The data for this chapter is drawn from the authors’ ongoing research on xenophobia and migration, surveys conducted by the Human Science Research Council (HSRC), and various national and international reports, including the South African Human Rights Commission and the United Nations. This chapter is divided into five sections. The first section highlights the links between xenophobia and genocide. South Africa’s history of migrant labour and undocumented migration is briefly reviewed in the next section. The role of the media in influencing public perceptions of foreigners is analysed in the third section. In the fourth section xenophobic violence since 1994 is reviewed. The role of the state in promoting xenophobia is analysed in the final section of this chapter. Xenophobia and Genocide On 9 December 2019, the International Day of Commemoration and Dignity of the Victims of the Crime of Genocide, UN Secretary-General António Guterres remembered the victims of this heinous crime. He lamented that the world has frequently failed to act against threats of genocide which have resulted in numerous crimes against humanity and ethnic cleansing. The secretary-general emphasised that the “[h]olocaust did not start with the gas chambers, nor did the genocides in Rwanda, Srebrenica or Cambodia start with mass killings. They were all preceded by discrimination, hate speech, incitement to violence and the dehumanization of ‘the other’” (United Nations, 2019: 1). To further explore how xenophobic intolerance can transform into genocide, a useful classification has been developed by Dr Gregory Stanton (2016), president of Genocide Watch, and this is summarised in Table 11.1. It is evident from Table 11.1 that the beginning of genocide frequently finds its expression in hate speech. This form of speech can encourage and promote violence against a minority community. According to Maynard and Benesch (2016: 71), the formulae of speech that “catalyze mass violence, and the ways in which they do so, are strikingly similar across different cases” of genocide. Hate speech is a global problem, as signified by the launch of the United Nations Strategy and Plan of Action on Hate Speech (2019), which acknowledged a disturbing groundswell of xenophobia, racism and intolerance. The Plan of Action also warns against the growth of organised efforts by certain groups to weaponise public discourse to demonise and debase specific outgroups (such as foreigners). The document recognises that hate speech can act as a form of incitement to physical acts of discrimination and violence. On the 25th anniversary of the Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, 12 April 2019, Secretary-General António Guterres gave a speech that linked

246  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon Table 11.1  Different Stages of Genocide 1. CLASSIFICATION: All cultures 6. POLARISATION: Extremists drive the have categories to distinguish groups apart. Hate groups broadcast people into ‘us and them’ by polarising propaganda. Motivations for ethnicity, race, religion or nationaltargeting a group are indoctrinated ity: German and Jew, Hutu and through mass media. Tutsi. 2. SYMBOLISATION: We give names 7. PREPARATION: Plans are made for or other symbols to the classificagenocidal killings. National or perpetrator tions. We name people ‘Jews’ or group leaders plan the ‘Final Solution’ to ‘Gypsies’, or distinguish them by the … targeted group ‘question’. colours or dress, and apply the Euphemisms such as ‘ethnic cleansing’, symbols to members of groups. ‘purification’, or ‘counter-terrorism’ conceal true intentions. 3. DISCRIMINATION: A dominant 8. PERSECUTION: Victims are identified group uses law, custom and political and separated because of their ethnic or power to deny the rights of other religious identity. Death lists are drawn groups. The powerless group may up. In state-sponsored genocide, members not be accorded full civil rights, of victim groups may be forced to wear voting rights or even citizenship. identifying symbols. 4. DEHUMANISATION: One group 9. EXTERMINATION begins and quickly denies the humanity of the other becomes the mass killing legally called group. Members of it are equated ‘genocide’. It is ‘extermination’ to the with animals, vermin, insects or killers because they do not believe their diseases. Dehumanisation overvictims to be fully human. comes the normal human revulsion against murder. 5. ORGANISATION: Genocide is 10. DENIAL is the final stage that lasts always organised, usually by the throughout and always follows a genostate, often using militias to provide cide. It is among the surest indicators of deniability of state responsibility. further genocidal massacres. The perpeSpecial army units or militias are trators of genocide dig up the mass often trained and armed. graves, burn the bodies, try to cover up the evidence and intimidate the witnesses. Source: Stanton, 2016.

past acts of genocide with the rising levels of intolerance in many parts of the world. In his remarks, he expressed concern about hate speech, stating: Particularly troubling is the current widespread proliferation of hate speech and incitement to violence. Things that were very clearly present in Rwanda immediately before the genocide. They are an affront to our values, and threaten human rights, social stability and peace … Today’s commemoration gives us an opportunity to once again raise our voices against racism, xenophobia and related intolerance … Wherever they occur, these evils should be identified, confronted and stopped to prevent them leading, as they have in the past, to hate crimes and genocide.

Xenophobia in South Africa  247 The secretary-general was particularly troubled by rising levels of xenophobia in many countries. According to a definition developed jointly by the International Labour Office (ILO), International Organization for Migration (IOM) and Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) (2001: 2), xenophobia refers to “attitudes, prejudices and behavior that reject, exclude and often vilify persons, based on the perception that they are outsiders or foreigners to the community, society or national identity”. His concern is perhaps unsurprising. Existing research suggests that there is a continuum that links xenophobia and genocide (Brannigan, 1998; Maynard and Benesch, 2016). Migrant Labour and Undocumented Migration Historically, the mining and agriculture sectors in South Africa have been dependent on migrant labour from southern African countries. In fact, much of South Africa’s mineral (and natural) wealth has been produced on the backs of migrant mine workers. The apartheid government subtly encouraged or turned a blind eye to clandestine migration to ensure an abundant supply of cheap labour but was opposed to black migrants applying for citizenship. The Aliens Control Act of 1991 was based on 1913 legislation that excluded blacks and was amended in 1930 and 1937 to exclude Jews. Between 1913 and 1986, black people could only enter South Africa illegally or as contract workers as they were not allowed to apply for temporary or permanent resident permits. The racist orientation of South African immigration policy became evident when the government welcomed whites from neighbouring states in South Africa who felt threatened by black majority rule (Maharaj, 2002). In the post-apartheid era, most immigrants came to South Africa to escape poverty and destitution in their own countries and civil wars and political instability. A key concern is the poverty, violence and underdevelopment that engulf many African countries. According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, the countries surrounding South Africa, except for Namibia and Botswana, are among the poorest in the world (Kraemer-Mbula and Scerr, 2015). While commonly associated with that fleeing political persecution in terms of the 1951 United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, there has been increasing realisation that those escaping from poverty and destitution could be called ‘economic refugees’. Many South African communities have been particularly unwelcoming to foreigners from Africa and commonly refer to this group as kwerekwere (a disparaging word for African immigrant). Surveys have revealed that immigrants in South Africa had a reasonably good education, as well as vocational experience and skills (Ferraro and Weideman, 2020). There is significant evidence to suggest that South Africa’s international migrant community is a significant cause of job creation in the country and economic growth. A report from the United Nations Conference

248  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon on Trade and Development (UNCTD) (2018) indicates that intra-African migration flows could substantially increase continental growth, boost trade and improve labour productivity. A World Bank report by de Berry et al. (2018) discovered that, during 1996–2011, international immigration had a positive impact on the South African labour market. Researchers found that, on average, the addition of one immigrant worker to the South African labour market creates roughly two jobs for the native-born.1 This outcome is consistent with recent research from the International Monetary Fund (2020), which shows that international migration was positively associated with macro-economic performance in a range of host countries. Even though most immigrants living in South Africa are gainfully employed, the potential contribution they could make to the local economy was limited because many were not engaged in the activity for which they were trained or skilled. Undocumented migrants, in particular, lead a precarious existence with the constant fear of being arrested and deported. These immigrants formed part of a ‘helot class’, who are at the mercy of callous landlords and were exploited by employers. Within a capitalist society, ‘undocumented’ status is a profitable legal phenomenon that allows employers to create and sustain a vulnerable reserve of labour, that is, when compared to ‘documented’ workers, obedient and low-cost (Cohen, 1989). As the cost social reproduction of ‘undocumented’ labour is displaced from the employer and the state, these ‘new helots’ are a profoundly profitable phenomenon. In addition, divisions between ‘documented’ and ‘undocumented’ labour undermine working class solidairty and ‘helotisation’ serves to undermine the labour movement as a whole. They are denied citizenship and did not receive any social, political or welfare benefits in South Africa. Despite their positive contribution to the national economy, foreign nationals are frequently accused of economically disadvantaging locally born South Africans. Migrants are seen to threaten the jobs of locals and also undermine wages. This was apparent in public opinion research by Gordon (2017). It would appear that a majority of adults living in South Africa thought that international migrants were taking jobs from locals. Such unfounded stereotypes were often perpetuated in the media. Media and Xenophobia Most people in South Africa are misinformed about the number of international migrants that reside in the country. The question has been the subject of media speculation for many years. Consider, for instance, the recent statement made on 13 November 2020 by (at the time of writing) president of ActionSA Herman Mashaba (TimesLive, 23/11/2020). He claimed that there were 15  million “undocumented foreigners” residing in South Africa. Such wild exaggerations are not only made by politicians seeking office. National Police Commissioner Khehla Sitole once claimed that 11 million undocumented foreigners were living in the country. Even though these specious claims are

Xenophobia in South Africa  249 regularly made without evidence, they are enthusiastically accepted by the populace. This classification of a group as a numerous threat to the health and wealth of the nation is one of the first stages of genocide outlined in Table 11.1. Current public opinion research has found that a majority of the national population believe that there are tens of millions of foreigners living in South Africa. Gordon et al. (2020) assessed responses to the following question using data from a nationally representative attitudinal survey: “[o]f every 100 people living in South Africa, how many do you think were born outside the country?” The general public provided a range of differing answers to this straightforward question. About a quarter (23%) of adults stated that between 11% and 30% of the national population was foreign-born, and a similar proportion said it was in the 31%–50% range. Even more outlandish, nearly a quarter of the general public believed that more than half the South African population was born outside the country. These lay estimations diverge substantially from estimates by the United Nations Population Division (2020), which estimate that foreigners account for no more than 4.8% of the national population. Given this, we have to ask where do South Africans get their information about the international migrants? Gordon (2020a) analysed which sources the general public trusted most to provide the best information on international migrants living in South Africa. Survey participants were provided with a list of different sources that ranged from more traditional kinds of media (e.g., radio or newspapers) to more contemporary sources (e.g., social media). The most popular sources of information were television and radio; these sources were particularly mentioned by those who held strong anti-immigrant views. This is perhaps not surprising; scholars have been highlighting the role played by the South African mass media in perpetuating anti-immigrant stereotypes for decades (e.g., Danso & McDonald, 2001; Moyo & Chiumbu, 2020; Smith, 2011). This research suggests that how the media is organised (i.e., who gets to speak, what stories are told and how) influences the public attitudes towards international migrants. Only a tenth of the adult population mentioned internet sources (including Twitter and Facebook) as a trusted source of information on foreigners. Despite this finding, it is clear that social media is progressively becoming a significant aspect of contemporary xenophobia in modern South Africa. There is an organised campaign to spread disinformation about and amplify existing antipathy towards foreigners on social media. A recent report from the Centre for Analytics and Behavioural Change shows how social media in South Africa is now actively manipulated to fuel pre-existing xenophobia and stoke discord (News24, 24/08/2020). A study by Chenzi (2020) chronicled the influence of social media on driving xenophobia discourses in the country. Fake news was primarily driven by the rapid substitution of social media platforms for broadcast and print news platforms for a growing number of South Africans. Negative media portrayals set up undocumented migrants as soft targets for violence.

250  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon Xenophobic Violence Since 1994, outbreaks of xenophobic violence have been evident in South Africa, with sporadic attacks against foreigners, looting of their premises and loss of lives. Females are not spared in these attacks, and they experienced domestic violence, sexual harassments, physical attacks and verbal abuse (Gounder and Maharaj, 2022; Memela and Maharaj, 2018). Violent discrimination against a minority is one of the stages of genocide identified by Genocide Watch in Table 11.1. Table 11.2 summarises many of the most prominent episodes of xenophobic violence in the country over the last 27 years. At this stage, it is important to acknowledge that we do not have a clear picture of the level of xenophobic violence in South Africa. The South African Police Services (SAPS) do not collect data on anti-immigrant hate crime. Indeed, a recent report from the African Policing Civilian Oversight Forum suggests that SAPS is reluctant to prosecute crimes that specifically target foreign nationals (Edwards & Freeman, 2021). Due to lack of reliable official data on xenophobic violence, civil society organisations have sought to fill the gap. Drawing on the Southern African Migration Programme database of media coverage, Crush and Ramachandran (2015) contend that there were 178 documented episodes of collective violence against foreign small-business owners between 2009 and 2014. Xenowatch has chronicled hundreds of violent xenophobic incidents in the last two decades. To obtain statistics on anti-immigrant hate crime the non-proprietary platform sources data from media reports as well as original research and crowdsourcing. Xenowatch recorded 994 xenophobic incidents between 1994 and 2022. Due to underreporting from victims as well as insufficient data gathering by law enforcement and journalists, these figures may underestimate the problem. According to the Hate Crimes Working Group, poor data capture on hate crime (as well as hate speech) is a particular problem in South Africa (Mitchell & Nel, 2017). Another approach to capturing data on hate crime is to look at levels of self-reported participation. Drawing on data from the South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS), an annual cross-national opinion survey, we measured self-reported participation in anti-immigrant violence during 2015–2021.2 Respondents in those SASAS rounds were asked the following question: “[h]ave you taken part in violent action to prevent immigrants from living or working in your neighbourhood?” Public responses to this question on xenophobic violence are displayed by survey round in Table 11.3. Survey participants may be reluctant to talk about potentially incriminating information with fieldworkers due to social desirability bias (Krumpal, 2013). When reviewing the results, the reader should be aware that there might be underreporting of participation in violence amongst the general public due to this type of bias. A vast majority of ordinary adults (30 million men and women) claim not to have taken part in xenophobic violence and would never do so. This finding highlights the general level of intolerance that most in the country have

Table 11.2  Xenophobic Violence and Killings in Democratic South Africa Timeline 1994 to 1995 In December 1994 and January 1995, armed youth gangs in Alexandra Township outside of Johannesburg, Gauteng Province, destroyed the homes and property of suspected undocumented migrants and marched the individuals down to the local police station, where they demanded that the foreigners be forcibly and immediately removed. 2000 In August 2000, seven xenophobic killings were reported in the Cape Flats district of Cape Town. Seven foreigners from different African countries were killed on the Cape Flats. Amongst those who were attacked by local South Africans were two Nigerians, one Kenyan and two Angolans.

2008 On 8 January 2008, two Somali shop owners were murdered in the Eastern Cape towns of Jeffreys Bay and East London. In March 2008, seven people were killed including Zimbabweans, Pakistanis and a Somali after their shops and shacks were set alight in Atteridgeville near Pretoria. On 11 May 2008, an outburst of xenophobic violence in the Johannesburg township of Alexandra triggered more xenophobic violence in other townships. Initially, it only spread in the Gauteng Province. After two weeks, the violence jumped to other urban areas across the country, mainly Durban, Cape Town and Limpopo Province. 2013 On 2 February 2013, eight South African police officers tied a 27-yearold Mozambican man, Mido Macia, to the back of a police van and dragged him down the road. Subsequently, the man died in a police cell from head injuries. The incident happened in Daveyton, East of Johannesburg, South Africa. On 26 May 2013, the South Africans mob killed two Zimbabwean men in xenophobic violence in Diepsloot, South Africa. (Continued)

Xenophobia in South Africa  251

2009 From 14 to 17 November 2009, 3,000 Zimbabwean citizens living in the rural community of De Doorns, an informal settlement near Breede Valley Municipality, in the Western Cape, were displaced as a result of xenophobic violence. It selectively targeted Zimbabweans despite the presence of other foreign nationals (e.g., Lesotho nationals) living and working in the same area.

1998 In September 1998, two Senegalese and a Mozambican were thrown from a moving train in Johannesburg by a group of individuals returning from a rally organised by a group blaming foreigners for the levels of unemployment, crime and even the spread of AIDS.

2015 In January 2015, a Somali shop owner shot and killed a 14-year-old boy, Siphiwe Mahori, during an alleged robbery in Soweto Township. The incident triggered waves of attacks and looting of foreign-owned shops. On 8 April 2015, a spate of xenophobic violence occurred after Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini commented that foreigners should go back to their home countries because they are changing the nature of South Africa society with their goods and enjoying wealth that should have been for local people. On 12 April 2015, attacks on foreign nationals continued in KwaZulu-Natal when shops in Umlazi and KwaMashu, outside Durban, were torched. In V Section, a shop owned by a foreign national was set on fire by a mob of suspects. Five people were killed. 2018 A series of violent May 2018 protests took place in the country’s North West province. During these protests, foreign-owned small businesses were targeted by angry mobs. It has been estimated that as many as a thousand such businesses were burned and looted during the violence. Foreign business owners were the target of the violence and looting in Soweto on the 31 August of 2018. Four died during rioting and looting, targeting foreign-owned businesses in the township. Twenty-seven people were arrested. 2020 On 23 November 2020, All Truck Drivers Foundation and the UmKhonto WeSizwe Military Veterans Association marched in Durban, calling for foreign nationals to be deported. Five people were arrested for public violence during the protest.

2017 On the 24 February 2017, the “Mamelodi Concerned Residents” marched in Pretoria to protest against the presence of immigrants in their communities. The march sparked a wave of looting of foreign-owned small businesses. The rioting resulted in the arrest of 136 people.

2019 On 25 March 2019, xenophobic riots targeting African immigrants broke out in Sydenham, Jadhu Place and Overport areas of Durban. Around 100 people attacked businesses owned by foreign nationals. On 3 September 2019, mobs attacked foreign-owned shops in Jeppestown. In Alexandra, the Pan Africa shopping centre was set alight by arsonists after the stores had been looted. Police reported that two burnt bodies were found in one of the stores. Police had made 189 arrests. A sit-in started when around 250 refugees encamped outside the Cape Town offices of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees on 8 October 2019. Protestors demanded to be relocated to a third country outside of South Africa and other than their country of origin.

Source: Adapted from https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/xenophobic-violence-democratic-south-africa-timeline

252  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon

Table 11.2  (Continued)

Xenophobia in South Africa  253 Table 11.3  Count and Percentage of Adults Willing to Take Part in Violent Action

Have done it in the past year Have done it in the more distant past Have not done it but might do it Have not done it and would never do it (Can’t choose)

2015

2016

2017

2018

892 (2.4) 1,272 (3.4) 4,869 (13.2) 29,723 (80.3) 240 (0.7)

1,224 (3.2) 2,052 (5.4) 3,827 (10.1) 30,087 (79.7) 565 (1.5)

355 (0.9) 1,673 (4.2) 4,592 (11.6) 32,510 (82.4) 310 (0.8)

804 (2.0) 2,966 (7.4) 4,468 (11.1) 31,319 (77.6) 815 (2.0)

2019 2020 944 (2.3) 3,913 (9.3) 4,563 (10.9) 30,915 (73.7) 1,598 (3.8)

2021 1,258 (3.0) 4,043 (9.5) 5,055 (12.0) 31,228 (73.9) 596 (1.4)

Note: Percentage of total adult population of the country in parenthesis. Source: HSRC South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS) 2015–2021.

for anti-immigrant violence. However, about a 50th of the general population admitted to committing a violent action against international migrants recently. Around a 20th, depending on the survey round, confessed to participating in the more distant past. Discouragingly, many non-participants indicated that they were prepared to take violent action against foreigners in the future. More than a tenth 8th of the adult population (or 5 million people) said that they had not taken part in such an action but would be open to doing so in 2021. That such a substantial proportion of the public would be prepared to voice interest in partaking in violent action against foreigners should be a cause for concern. So far, we have not considered the link between anti-immigrant attitudes and self-reported participation in anti-immigrant violence in South Africa. Table 11.4 looks at past participation in violent behaviour by whether an individual welcomed all immigrants, some immigrants or no immigrants.3 Hostile attitudes were discovered to have a modest effect on participation in the distant past and a robust effect on recent participation. An unwelcoming attitude towards foreigners also had a significant effect on the willingness to participate amongst non-participants. The more welcoming a non-participant, the less likely that non-participant was to stated that they might engage in anti-immigrant hate crime in the future. These findings are consistent with prior research by Gordon (2020b) that examine participation in anti-immigrant hate crime. In summation, we can conclude that xenophobic perceptions could, under certain circumstances, encourage people to engage in acts of violent xenophobia. The frequency of xenophobic violence displayed above cannot be understood outside of the general popularity of vigilantism in the country. South  Africans from all walks of life have come to depend on non-state policing for their security needs. Much of the middle class, for instance, are customers of the country’s numerous commercial security firms as well as

254  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon Table 11.4  Count and Percentage of Adults Willing to Take Part in Violent Action by Whether an Person Welcomed Immigrants (column percentages)

Have done it in the past year Have done it in the more distant past Have not done it but might do it Have not done it and would never do it (Can’t choose)

Welcome Welcome All Some

Welcome None

Total

1.6% (0.60) 5.1% (1.08) 7.2% (1.28) 84.9% (1.78) 1.2% (0.37)

5.0% (1.19) 9.0% (1.51) 17.7% (2.20) 67.5% (2.61) 0.9% (0.30)

3.0% (0.46) 9.6% (0.86) 12.0% (1.02) 74.0 (1.30) 1.4% (0.21)

2.5% (0.57) 12.7% (1.53) 11.4% (1.62) 72.2% (2.10) 1.2% (0.30)

Note: Linearised standard error in parenthesis. Source: HSRC South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS) 2021.

semi-official community guards. Those on the lower rung of the economic ladder have turned to vigilante organisations. Sometimes vigilante violence is managed through traditional authorities, with local chiefs or headman punishing suspected criminals (Kynoch, 2016). Often, however, it would appear that most violent self-help is sporadic, opportunistic and disorganised (also see Smith, 2019). Gordon et al. (2021) found that two-fifths of the adult population felt that it is alright for the members of the public to beat up crime suspects. In addition, these researchers discovered that almost half  of the populace thought that those who kill armed robbers should not be blamed. Results show that many see non-state violence as a valuable crime-control tool. State Denialism and the Response to Xenophobia The previous section has shown that xenophobic violence is a serious problem in South Africa. But over the last 20 years, the government response to this challenge has ranged from benign neglect to overt denialism. Both National President Thabo Mbeki (1999–2008) and his successor Jacob Zuma (2009–2018) reacted harshly to the use of the term ‘xenophobia’ in the press and sought to downplay any allegation that prejudice against migrants was widespread in South African society (for a review of this denialism, see Gordon, 2019). At a memorial for those who died in the May 2008 attacks, for instance, President Mbeki said: The word xenophobia means a deep antipathy towards or hatred of foreigners. When I heard some accuse my people of xenophobia, of hatred of foreigners, I wondered what the accusers knew about my people, which I did not know. (Mbeki, 2008: 1)

Xenophobia in South Africa  255 Many senior members of government embraced this kind of denialism. In response, for instance, to reports of xenophobia during the violence in Khayelitsha, then minister of police Nathi Mthethwa declared that “xenophobia is not going to happen…There is no such systematic thing as xenophobia in the country” (News24 15/07/2010). As Crush and Ramachandran (2014) argued, others in government sought to minimise the role of xenophobia in this type of violence by shifting the blame onto other social ills (such as crime, unemployment or inequality). The denial of violent discrimination is the central part of the progression towards genocide. In another illustrative example of how xenophobia denialism concerns, a special committee called to investigate anti-foreigner riots in April 2015. During the course of their investigations, committee chairs (and Members of Parliament) Tekoetsile Motlashuping and Nozabelo Bhengu spoke to the press about their use of the word ‘xenophobia’. Mr Motlashuping told media outlets that the label ‘xenophobia’ did not apply to South Africans and warned the media not to use that word. Nozabelo Bhengu explicitly said: “journalists, you must refrain from using xenophobia because it means having extreme hatred which we don’t have as South Africans” (IOL, 10/07/2015). Some have despaired when confronted with the debate over whether the word ‘xenophobia’ should be used, viewing the debate as unimportant and futile. Bishop Paul Verryn at Johannesburg’s Central Methodist church, for example, said: “It’s semantics in the face of disaster. It’s eating cake while the world goes hungry. There’s been a thunderous absence of good leadership” (Mail & Guardian, 17/04/2015). There have been allegations that the South African government, politicians and public officials have not only ignored xenophobic violence but have helped promote anti-immigrant stereotypes. This is not a recent allegation; at the end of the 1990s, the international NGO Human Rights Watch (1998) warned that “South Africa’s public culture has become increasingly xenophobic, and politicians often make unsubstantiated and inflammatory statements” about foreign nationals. Indeed, politicians like Mangosutho Buthelezi and Joe Modise were complicit in demonising foreigners, particularly undocumented migrants, in the 1990s. This group was accused of straining the national economy and sabotaging the entire post-apartheid economic transformation project. In more contemporary times, prominent politicians (such as Lindiwe Zulu, Maggie Maunye and Nomvula Mokonyane) have turned their ire on foreign-owned small businesses. This group is now frequently demonised as a crime and job threat. A recent report from Human Rights Watch (2020) argued that xenophobia is entrenched in state institutions in the country with particular state agencies (such as SAPS and Home Affairs) signalled out as especially problematic. The rhetoric of political leaders can have a profound effect on the lay beliefs of the general public. Based on data drawn from multiple countries in the Global North, Lenz (2013) has shown that rhetoric from elite politicians can have a powerful effect on the opinions of their voters and supporters.

256  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon To understand what the above may look like in practice, consider a speech given in South Africa by the former Zulu king Goodwill Zwelithini kaBhekuzulu on 23 March 2015 in the riverside town of Pongola. As outlined in Table 11.2, this address inspired large-scale anti-immigrant riots. After reviewing the King’s speech, the South African Human Rights Commission (SAHRC) confirmed that the King promoted anti-immigrant attitudes in his Pongola address. SAHRC Chair Lawrence Mushwana told the press that the monarch stated “that immigrants are in South Africa to steal the wealth of the nation and suggested that they may be criminals. He unequivocally called upon executive authorities to order all foreign nationals to leave the country” (EWN, 03/09/2016). He concluded, however, that King Zwelithini’s comments on migrants were not “hate speech”, and the monarch was not prosecuted. The failure to hold public figures such as King Goodwill Zwelithini accountable for their public utterances illustrates why fighting xenophobia is so difficult in South Africa. Consequently, many non-nationals are reluctant to report ‘hate crime’ (including hate speech) to the authorities. Those affected by hate crime may fear “victim precipitation” (i.e., victims supposedly responsible for the abuse they suffer) in South Africa. Victim-blaming is dangerous as it demeans those affected by xenophobic violence and may also result in fear of secondary victimisation (i.e., invert or overt discrimination against survivors of hate crimes). As a response to this fear, victims may be less willing to seek help from the police. Indeed, many foreigners do not think that the police will protect them (Human Rights Watch, 2020). This is not surprising; past studies have accused the police in South Africa of ignoring charges of hate crime against foreign nationals and further victimising foreign complainants (Edwards & Freeman, 2021). Conclusion There are some common characteristics associated with xenophobia and genocide. These include classification, symbolisation, discrimination, dehumanisation and polarisation. As Akinola (2014: 56) has argued, “[w]hat often begins as mild expressions of dislike can easily develop into institutionalized discrimination, psychological trauma, physical abuse, and hate crimes and brutal killings”. This chapter has shown that hate speech, dehumanisation and violence against international migrants are quite common in South Africa. Over the past two decades, many political leaders in the country have pedalled anti-immigrant narratives while denying the reality of xenophobic violence. These trends can be compared to the first four stages of genocide progression (Table 11.1) outlined by Genocide Watch. It is evident that significant initiatives are required to prevent the country from progressing any further down the road towards the mass extermination of foreign nationals. It was ironical that xenophobia developed as a result of progressive democratic political transformation in South Africa. The fear of foreigners

Xenophobia in South Africa  257 developed because of the great expectations of the poverty-stricken masses and the inability of the new government to deliver immediately. The ‘enemy’ was no longer the apartheid state but foreigners who were undermining and exploiting local opportunities. While at a national level there was a call from the trade union movement and the government for restraint and understanding of the plight of the undocumented migrants, workers believed that their livelihood and resources were being threatened. There is a need for a more sensitive, human rights approach to address the plight of migrants, which took cognisance of the circumstances that contributed to undocumented immigration escalation. After decades of failures and failed initiatives, a faction within the South African state is willing to tackle xenophobia. The Department of Justice and Constitutional Development (DOJ&CD, 2019) published a National Action Plan to Combat Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance (hereafter the NAP) on 25 March 2019. This new approach seems to have coincided with the ascension of National President Cyril Ramaphosa. The NAP outlined steps to meaningfully address problems of prejudice in South African society, acknowledging the existence of xenophobic violence and outlining steps to address this problem. Currently, President Ramaphosa seems less attached to ‘xenophobia denialism’ than his predecessors. However, in terms of large anti-xenophobia initiatives, the Ramaphosa Administration has not differentiated itself from its predecessors. Despite a change in rhetoric, little tangible evidence of change has been observed so far on the ground. Notes 1 An area of direct conflict and confrontation between the locals and foreigners has been in the informal sector, particularly hawking. Foreign hawkers believe that they played a key role in developing this sector, and locals were now trying to force them out and appropriate the fruits of their labour (for a further discussion, see Crush & Ramachandran, 2015). A significant body of research has suggested that migrant-owned small, medium and micro-enterprise actually created job opportunities and improve economic growth. 2 The SASAS series was designed to measure the South African public’s attitudes, beliefs, behaviour patterns and values with regards to a range of issues. One of these issues concerns international migration. All SASAS surveys are designed to yield a representative sample of adults who are 16 years and older living in South Africa, regardless of their nationality or citizenship. SASAS has a sample of 3,000 adults living in private homes, and most rounds are completed between the months of October and December. During the SASAS questionnaire, respondents were told that they would be asked questions about “people from other countries coming to live in South Africa”. Respondents were then asked a series of questions about international migrants. 3 To capturing welcoming attitudes, SASAS respondents have been asked the following question: “Please indicate which of the following statements applies to you? I generally welcome to South Africa… (i) All immigrants; (ii) Some immigrants; and (iii) No immigrants.” In 2018, 25% of the South African adult (16  years and older) population said that they would welcome all immigrants, 47% would welcome some immigrants and 26% would welcome none.

258  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon References Akinola, A. O. (2014). South Africa and the Two Faces of Xenophobia: A Critical Reflection. Africa Peace & Conflict Journal, 7, 56–67. Brannigan, A. (1998). Criminology and the Holocaust: Xenophobia, Evolution, and Genocide. Crime & Delinquency, 44(2), 257–276. Chenzi, V. (2020). Fake News, Social Media and Xenophobia in South Africa. African Identities. https://doi.org/10.1080/14725843.2020.1804321 Cohen, R. (1989). Citizens, Denizens and Helots: The Politics of International Migration flows in the Post-war World. Hitotsubashi Journal of Social Studies, 21(1), 153–165. Crush, J., & Ramachandran, S. (2014). Xenophobic Violence in South Africa: Denialism, Minimalism, Realism (No. 66; South African Migration Programme, Vol. 7, Issue 2). https://doi.org/10.4102/sajs.v106i1/2.16 Crush, J., & Ramachandran, S. (2015). Doing Business with Xenophobia. In J. Crush, A. Chikanda, & C. Skinner (Eds.), Mean Streets: Migration, Xenophobia and Informality in South Africa (pp. 25–59). Southern African Migration Programme. Danso, R., & McDonald, D. A. (2001). Writing Xenophobia: Immigration and the Print Media in Post-apartheid South Africa. Africa Today, 48(3), 115–137. https:// doi.org/10.1353/at.2001.0050 Department of Justice & Constitutional Development (DOJ&CD) (2019). National Action Plan (NAP) to Combat Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance. Available at: https://www.gov.za/sites/default/files/gcis_document/ 201903/national-action-plan.pdf Edwards, L., & Freeman, L. (2021). Policing and Non-Nationals: Deficit Analysis of Police Prevention, Detection and Investigation of Xenophobic Violence in South Africa African Policing Civilian Oversight Forum. EWN (2016, 03 September). No Causal Link between Zulu King’s Speech & Xenophobic Attacks. Available at: https://ewn.co.za/2016/09/30/No-causal-linkbetween-Zulu-kings-speech-xenophobic-attacks Ferraro, F., & Weideman, M. (2020). Labour-Related Experience of Migrants and Refugees in South Africa. Scalabrini Institute for Human Mobility in Africa. Available at: https://www.icmc.net/future-of-work/report/04-south-africa/, accessed 10 February 2021. Gordon, S. L. (2017). Waiting for the Barbarians: A Public Opinion Analysis of South African Attitudes towards International Migrants. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 40(10), 1700–1719. https://doi.org/10.1080/01419870.2016.1181770 Gordon, S. L. (2019). The Popularity of State Discourses on Anti-Immigrant Violence in South Africa. The Round Table: The Commonwealth Journal of International Affairs, 108(5), 567–578. https://doi.org/10.1080/00358533.2019.1658345 Gordon, S. L. (2020a). Knowledge, the Media and Anti-immigrant Hate Crime in South Africa: Where Are the Connections? In D. Moyo & S. Mpofu (Eds.), Mediating Xenophobia in Africa: Unpacking Discourses of Migration, Belonging and Othering (pp. 99–116). Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3030-61236-8_5 Gordon, S. L. (2020b). Understanding the Attitude–behaviour Relationship: A  Quantitative Analysis of Public Participation in Anti-immigrant Violence in South Africa. South African Journal of Psychology, 50(1), 103–114. https://doi. org/10.1177/0081246319831626

Xenophobia in South Africa  259 Gordon, S., Roberts, B., Struwig, J., McHunu, N., Mtyingizane, S., & Zondi, T. (2020). Size Does Matter: The Relationship between Perceived Immigrant Group Size and Attitudes towards Foreign Nationals. Southern African Journal of Demography, 20(1), 28–56. Gordon, S. L., Wentzel, M., & Viljoen, J. (2021). Anti-immigrant Violence as Social Group Control Vigilantism? Understanding Attitudes, Behaviours and Solutions. In  N. Bohler-Muller, C. Soudien, & V. Reddy (Eds.), Ethics, Politics, Inequality: New Directions: State of the Nation (pp. 285–304). Human Sciences Research Council Prees. Gounder, K., & Maharaj, B. (2022). Xenophobic Violence, Displacement and Reintegration: A Case Study of Female Migrants in Isipingo, Durban, South Africa. In M. Glass (Ed.), Urban Violence Resilience and Security: Governance Responses in the Global South. Edward Elgar (In Press). de Berry, J. P., Hovhannisyan, S., Baum, C. F., Ogude, H. R., & Sarkar, A. (2018). Mixed Migration, Forced Displacement and Job Outcomes in South Africa. World Bank. Human Rights Watch. (1998). Prohibited Persons: Abuse of Undocumented Migrants, Asylum Seekers, and Refugees in South Africa. Human Rights Watch. Human Rights Watch. (2020). “They Have Robbed Me of My Life”: Xenophobic Violence Against Non-Nationals in South Africa. Human Rights Watch. International Labour Office (ILO). International Organization for Migration (IOM), Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) (2001). International migration, racism, discrimination and xenophobia. Discussion paper prepared by the ILO, IOM and OHCHR for the World Conference Against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance, Durban, South Africa. International Monetary Fund. (2020). World Economic Outlook, April 2020: The Great Lockdown. International Monetary Fund. IOL (2015, 10 July). Stop Using the Word Xenophobia. Available at: http://www.iol. co.za/news/politics/stop-using-the-word-xenophobia-1883743 Kraemer-Mbula, E., & Scerr, M. (2015). Southern Africa. In UNESCO Science Report: towards 2030 (pp. 535–565). Available at: https://en.unesco.org/sites/ default/files/usr15_southern_africa.pdf Krumpal, I. (2013). Determinants of Social Desirability Bias in Sensitive Surveys: A  Literature Review. Quality and Quantity, 47(4), 2025–2047. https://doi.org/ 10.1007/s11135-011-9640-9 Kynoch, G. (2016). Apartheid’s Afterlives: Violence, Policing and the South African State. Journal of Southern African Studies, 42(1), 65–78. https://doi.org/10.1080/0 3057070.2016.1087167 Lenz, G. S. (2013). Follow the Leader? How Voters Respond to Politicians’ Policies and Performance. University of Chicago Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/poq/nft013 Mail & Guardian (2015, 17 April). Xenophobia in South Africa: ‘They Beat My Husband with Sticks and Took Everything’. Available at https://www.theguardian. com/world/2015/apr/17/xenophobia-south-africa-brothers-violence-foreigners Maharaj, B. (2002). Economic Refugees in Post-Apartheid South Africa – Assets or  Liabilities? Implications for Progressive Migration Policies. GeoJournal, 56, 47–57. Maynard, J., & S. Benesch (2016). Dangerous Speech and Dangerous Ideology: An Integrated Model for Monitoring and Prevention. Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 9, 70–95.

260  Brij Maharaj and Steven Lawrence Gordon Mbeki, T. (2008). Address of the President of South Africa, Thabo Mbeki at the  National Tribute in Remembrance of the Victims of Attacks on Foreign Nationals. Available at: https://www.polity.org.za/article/sa-mbeki-national-tributein-remembrance-of-xenophobic-attacks-victims-03072008-2008-07-03 Memela, S. and B. Maharaj (2018). Refugees, Violence and Gender: the case of women in the Albert Park area in Durban, South Africa. Urban Forum, 29: 429–458. Mitchell, Y., & Nel, J. A. (2017). The Hate and Bias Crimes Monitoring Form Project: January 2013 to September 2017. Available at: http://hcwg.org.za/wp-content/ uploads/2018/02/Report-Hate-Bias-Crimes-Monitoring-Form-Project-SCREEN.pdf Moyo, D., & Chiumbu, S. H. (2020). Talk Radio and the Mediation of Xenophobic Violence in South Africa. In D. Moyo & S. Mpofu (Eds.), Mediating Xenophobia in Africa: Unpacking Discourses of Migration, Belonging and Othering (pp. 43–65). Springer International Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-61236-8_3 News24 (2010, 15 July). ‘Xenophobia Hysteria’ Dismissed. Available at: http://www. news24.com/SouthAfrica/News/Xenophobia-hysteria-dismissed-20100715 News24 (2020, 24 August). Coordinated Attempt to Manipulate Xenophobiacentered Conversations on SA Social Media. CABC Report Shows. Available at: https://www.news24.com/news24/southafrica/news/co-ordinated-attempt-tomanipulate-xenophobia-centered-conversations-on-sa-social-media-cabc-reportshows-20200824 Smith, M. J. (2011). Violence, Xenophobia and the Media: A Review of the South African Media’s Coverage of Xenophobia and the Xenophobic Violence Prior to and Including the Events of 2008. Politikon: South African Journal of Political Studies, 38(1), 111–129. https://doi.org/10.1080/02589346.2011.548673 Smith, N. R. (2019). Contradictions of Democracy: Vigilantism and Rights in Postapartheid South Africa. Oxford University Press. Stanton, G. (2016). The Ten Stages of Genocide. Available at: http://genocidewatch. net/genocide-2/8-stages-of-genocide/ TimesLive (2020, 23 November). Mashaba Checked Over Claim that there are 15 Million Undocumented Foreigners in SA. Available at: https://www.timeslive.co.za/ news/south-africa/2020-11-23-mashaba-checked-over-claim-that-there-are-15-millionundocumented-foreigners-in-sa/ United Nations (2019). Amid Alarming Surge of Xenophobia, Racism, SecretaryGeneral Calls on States to Urgently Heed Genocide Warning Signs, in Message for International Day. Available at: https://www.un.org/press/en/2019/sgsm19900.doc. htm United Nations (n.d.). Office on Genocide Prevention and the Responsibility to Protect. Available at: https://www.un.org/en/genocideprevention/genocide.shtml United Nations Conference on Trade and Development. (2018). Economic Development in Africa Report 2018: Migration for Structural Transformation. United Nations. United Nations Population Division (2020). International Migrant Stock. Available at: https://www.un.org/development/desa/pd/content/international-migrant-stock

12 1994 Rwanda Holocaust A Critical Analysis of Xenophobia Mutating to Genocide against the Tutsi Rituparna Bhattacharyya, Venkat Rao Pulla, Charles Kalinganire, and Gaspard Rwanyiziri Introduction Every year, 07 April is observed as the International Day of Reflection on the Rwandan genocide. In 2022, the 28th anniversary of the genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda was memorialized by the international community. In about 100 days, more than one million people were slaughtered, belonging mainly to the Tutsi, an ethnic minority group, including some people belonging to the Hutu and Twa ethnic communities (Chrétien, 2003; Commemoration of International Day of Reflection on the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, 2020; Milnes, 2021). Approximately 250,000 to 500,000 women became victims of gender-based violence (Amnesty International, 2004; United Nations, n.d.)—“rape, genital mutilation, hacking off of breasts, sexual slavery, forced abortion and forced marriage” (Amnesty International, 2004, 6; Totten, 2017). A significant number of women became widows, and 400,000 and 500,000 children were left orphaned (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Totten, 2017). Debates, however, continue among the scholars regarding the contestation of the actual number of victims in this Holocaust, which perhaps will remain unknown forever (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020; Milnes, 2021; McDoom, 2020; Meierhenrich, 2020; Reydams, 2020; Reydams and Tissot, 2021; Verpoorten, 2005, 2020). Current president of  Rwanda, Paul Kagame, in conversation with Jeune Afrique’s journalist François Soudan (2015, 55–56), commented: it was a “popular” genocide, in the sense of being carried out by the common people. The difference between the Holocaust, and the Genocide of the Batutsi in Rwanda, is that Rwanda happened before the eyes of the world, live. Everybody in the international community, including the Catholic Church was aware of what was taking place. The international community had the opportunity to stop the Genocide in Rwanda and they didn’t. Was it blindness, or complicity? The Tutsi population’s killing rate is four times higher than the rate at which the Nazi Holocaust was committed (Jean-Paul Akayesu Case, n.d.). Besides, DOI: 10.4324/9781003205470-12

262  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. an uncountable number of animals (including the cattles) were annihilated and infrastructure ravaged. Kalisa (2006, 515) describes the remnants as “the theatre of genocide” (known as le théâtre du génocide in French). The spontaneous repercussions of the brutal butchery stemmed following the killings of Rwandan President Juvénal Habyarimana and Cyprien Ntaryamira, the Hutu president of Burundi, on 6 April 1994, as the flight carrying them was preparing to land at Kigali Airport, assassinating everyone on board (Kamusella, 2021; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Milnes, 2021;). However, the cause of this shocking genocide, which explicitly fits the stages of Gregory H Stanton’s Ten Stages To Genocide1 (see also Chapter 1)—the Tutsis were discriminated against and dehumanized, were referred to as ‘cockroaches’, their human rights stripped away—reducing them to ‘bare life’ (naked life) (Agamben, 1998) with no political significance and exposed to violence and death. Léon Mugesera’s speech in 1992 in Kabaya further reinforces this—“‘let no snake [Tutsi] escape you’ (Ntihagire inzoka ibacika). Not even a baby, they argued, because a child of a snake is also a snake (umwana w’inzoka ni inzoka nawe)” (Mironko, 2006, 182; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). We argue that the genocide against the Tutsis was rooted in Rwanda’s colonial and historical geography bearing political contexts. Over decades, the mounting xenophobia against the Tutsis led to civil war (1990–1993), further sparking the 1994 genocide against the same community. The international hegemonic powers—Belgium, the US, France and the UN remained mute spectators (BBC, 2019; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Soudan, 2015)—not only failed to intervene adequately in the massacre, which continued until 19 July 1994, but also were unable to acknowledge it as ‘Genocide’ (Human Rights Watch, n.d.; Ignoring genocide, 1999). The major players responsible for the sheer savagery leading to genocide were the Akazu, or Zero network (an informal Hutu extremists organization, an  aide of Agathe Habyarimana, wife of the assassinated President Habyarimana), Impuzamugambi (Hutu militia), Interahamwe (a paramilitary organization meaning those who stand together), Kangura (a  Kinyarwanda and French-language magazine, founded by the editor Hassan Ngeze) and Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM) (Des Forges, 1999; Gomaa et al., 2021; Kamusella, 2021; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; Milnes, 2021). This chapter begins with revisiting the painful reality of xenophobia leading to genocide against Tutsis, as well as the consequences of the same in Rwanda. In doing so, the chapter aims to show how, in the aftermath of genocide, communities cope with trauma by gradually rebuilding, as well as the factors that contribute to this process; it also describes how the government and community seek justice through the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), the National Court System and the traditional Gacaca Court System.

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  263 History of Rwanda Rwanda, geospatially located in Central Eastern part of Africa, dictated by fertile volcanic soil and a rugged hilly landscape, shares borders with Uganda in the north, Tanzania in the east, Burundi in the south and the Democratic Republic of the Congo in the east (UNEP, 2011). The total geographical area of the country is 26,338 square kilometres (land: 24,668 square kilometres; water: 1,670 square kilometres) (REMA, 2021; UNEP, 2011; CIA, 2022). As discussed above, the country is home to three ethnic groups: Hutu, Tutsi and Twa. Reydams and Tissot (2021) argue that the trend of the Rwandan population remained blurry before the 1950s; however, from 1956 to 1991, Rwanda witnessed one of the fastest trends in population in the world, with annual growth rates remaining between 3% and 3.8%, resulting in tripled growth of population in three decades. As of August 2022, 13,246,394 people live in Rwanda, with a growth rate of 2.3% (NISR, 2023). At the time of the 1994 genocide, the population of Rwanda stood at 7 million, of which 85% belonged to the Hutu community, 14% were Tutsis and 1% Twa (United Nations, n.d.). According to the UNESCO Institute for Statistics, in 2018, the total literacy rate among its population aged 15 years and older stood at 73.2 %(69.4 % females and 77.6 % males),2 which is a staggering improvement from 38.24% in 1978.3 At the time of the genocide, most of its population lived below the poverty line, which escalated further to 77% in 2001 (The World Bank in Rwanda, 2021). For centuries, Rwanda has strived inordinate domination over the African Great Lakes region, which served as a refugee haven for over two million Rwandans in the aftermath of the genocide. The majority of the refugees belonged to the Hutu community, who escaped when the former rebels of Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), took control of the country after chasing the Hutu power regime, responsible for the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi (Chrétien, 2003). Revisiting the pages of history unfolds that the powerful Rwandan Kingdom, ruled by Tutsi monarchs (Mwami, plural Abami) belonging to the Nyinginya clan, prevailed from the mid-18th century onward. The Tutsi monarchs engaged in extending the territory of their kingdom, deploying central military powers embedded in multi-layered hierarchies of political, economic and socio-cultural relationships interweaving the ethnic groups of the kingdom (Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations, 1996). Kigeli IV, aka Rwabugiri (1860–1895), a Tutsi ruler, rolled out similar strategies of territorial expansion while consolidating the bureaucratic administrative structures, but he followed the policy of disallowing foreigners from entering his kingdom (d’Heusch, 1966; d’Hertefelt, 1971). It should be noted here that while historically the Tutsi community worked as military commanders, nobles, local officials or cattle herders, Hutus were subsistence farmers, and marginalized Twa were either potters or hunter-gatherers (Kagame, 1954; Kellow and Steeves, 1998). Table 12.1 briefly illustrates the historical chronology until the country gained independence in 1962.

264  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. Table 12.1  Brief Outline of the Timeline till Rwanda Gained Independence 1884

1919

1926 1957 1959

1960 1961–62

After the Berlin Conference, Ruanda became a German Colony. Under German colonialism, the conventional Hutu-Tutsi relationship was transformed into some form of a class system, where Tutsis were favoured over the Hutus. Following the Treaty of Versailles, Ruanda-Urundi, the German colony became a protectorate under the League of Nations and were governed by the Kingdom of Belgium. But Belgium, too, followed a similar governing policy to Germany—two different Tutsi monarchs administered the territories. The Tutsis gained the privilege of Western-style education. The Belgians introduced a system of ethnic identity cards to differentiate the Tutsis from the Hutus. Under the Belgian rule, a political party promoting the emancipation of the Hutus’ community—(PARMEHUTU – Parti de l’Emancipation des Hutu) was launched. Hutus rebelled against the Tutsis alongside the Belgian power. As a result, 150,000 Tutsis were compelled to flee to the neighbouring countries such as Burundi, Uganda, Tanzania and former CongoKinshasa (currently the Democratic Republic of Congo). The Belgian colonial powers organized municipal elections where the Hutus won. The Belgian colonial powers were withdrawn, and Rwanda and Burundi gained independence as two separate nations.

Sources: Bridgman and Clarke, 1965; d’Heusch, 1966; d’Hertefelt, 1971; Deutsch, 2006; Frontline (n.d.); Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations (n.d.) and United Nations, 1996.

As discussed above, Rwanda became a German colony after the 1884 Berlin Conference, held on 15 November, when Germany expanded its empire to the Africa Great Lakes region, apparently aimed at fighting slavery, at least on the surface, and the slave trade (Deutsch, 2006).4 At this point, Rwanda Kingdom to the north and Urundi to the south, together known as Ruanda-Urundi, were added to its empire to be ruled as part of German East Africa. And by 1898, the German Colonial rule established its suzerainty over Rwanda (Bridgman and Clarke, 1965; CIA, 2022). However, the German regime instituted an indirect governing system that kept the Tutsi Nyinginya clan in power as chiefs maintaining order over the Hutu (Kamusella, 2021; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations, 1996). Scholars argue that distinguishing between a Tutsi and a Hutu is often tricky because of the similar physical characteristics and historical multi-­ layered hierarchies (Chrétien, 2003; d’Heusch, 1966; d’Hertefelt, 1971; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations, 1996). Over time, due to increased social mobility, there has been socio-cultural assimilation, perhaps via the institution of marriage. Moreover, both Tutsi and Hutu communities “speak the same language, [Kinyarwanda] and share the same culture [and faith, mainly Christians]” (d’Hertefelt, 1971; United Nations, 1996, 7; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; see Kellow and Steeves, 1998), yet the Hutus developed irrational fear and prejudices against the Tutsis leading to xenophobic attitudes against them (Bordeau, 2010; see also Chapter 1). However, via the

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  265 acquisition of wealth or being an owner of a large number of cattle, a Hutu “could be assimilated into the Tutsi group; [similarly], impoverished Tutsis could be regarded as Hutus” (United Nations, 1996, 7; see Kellow and Steeves, 1998). Arguably, an individual’s socio-economic status or the household may decide whether one is a Tutsi or a Hutu. Nevertheless, Tutsis are considered a superior class to the Hutus because of their higher social positions; perhaps this was the key cause of xenophobic hatred. This observation bears resonance with the hardworking and diligent Lhotsampa group of Bhutanese people, who originally hailed from Nepal and demonstrated marks of superiority over the other three ethnic groups—the Bhutanese, Ngalong and Sarchop—but faced coerced xenophobic displacement from Bhutan, the land of the Drukpas, during the 1980s, confronting brutal human rights violation and crime against humanity (Pulla, 2016; see also, Bhattacharyya, 2017). Turning to Rwanda, historical evidence suggests that before the colonial era all the ethnic groups— Hutu, Tutsi and Twa shared cordial relationships with each other. During World War I (28 July 1914–11 November 1918), Belgian forces gained control of the central East African twin territory—Ruanda-Urundi, from 1922 to 1962. In other words, post–World War I, that is, in 1919, the League of Nations5 mandate was granted to Belgium to rule Ruanda-Urundi, and, like Germany, it governed the territory indirectly via the Tutsi kings applying a divide and rule policy, which continued until 1959. However, it should be noted that after World War II (1 September 1939–2 September 1945), the twin territory of Ruanda-Urundi was reconstituted as a UN trust territory. As stated above, Rwanda gained independence from Belgium in 1962 and became a republic (Figure 12.1); thereafter the monarchy was abolished, but this opened the road to the Hutu revolution. Gregoire Kayibanda, a Hutu lineage, became the republic’s new president. On 18 September 1962, the Security Council recommended the 17th session of the UN General Assembly to admit the Republic of Rwanda to membership in the UN. Earlier, in the 1920s, under the influence of the Catholic Church, the Belgium colonial regime introduced the disclosure of ethnic origin (from the paternal side) on documents like identity cards and administrative and academic records (Kellow and Steeves, 1998; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). The introduction of identity cards gradually erected rifts and tensity between the ethnic groups because one ethnic group started gaining privileges and rights over the other ethnic group. On the eve of its independence, founded on a sectarian, ethnic ideology propelled by the Union Nationale Rwandaise (UNAR), the ruling elite of the Belgian authorities prematurely fostered another party called the Parti du Mouvement de l’Emancipation Hutu (PARMEHUTU), which nurtured further segregation and ethnic tensions (Kalinganire et al., 2017; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). The increased tensions ignited the Hutu uprising known as ‘Hutu Peasant Revolution’, or ‘social revolution’ (1959–1961), killing approximately 10,000 Tutsis, and thousands became homeless and faced displacement. Moreover, some Tutsis

266  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al.

Figure 12.1 Administrative Map of Rwanda. Source: Authors.

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  267 were coerced to flee to the neighbouring countries—Burundi, Uganda, Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) and Tanzania. Therefore, at the beginning of the 1960s, many Tutsis, to protect themselves from the Hutus, desperately endeavoured to seek Hutu identity cards, even though it required bribing officials (Kellow and Steeves, 1998). However, xenophobia and ethnic violence of recrimination continued. Xenophobia and Growing Retaliatory Ethnic Violence After independence, fresh cycles of ethnic tensions erupted; this time, xenophobic counterattacks by the Tutsi refugees taking refuge in the neighbouring countries—Burundi, Uganda, Zaire and Tanzania, who organized ten sets of attacks between 1962 and 1967, hatching new refugee waves in these countries and thus taking the number to 480,000 by the end of 1980. It is estimated that in the 1963 massacre, the number of Tutsis killed ranged between 10,000 and 14,000 (United Nations, 1996, 204; see, Kellow and Steeves, 1998). As a result, the entire African Great Lakes region became submerged in political instability (Kellow and Steeves, 1998). During the peak of continued xenophobic ethnic tensions, in 1973, Major General Juvénal Habyarimana, again a Hutu by descent, hailing from northern Ruhengeri prefecture, captured power in a military coup d’etat, which not only further escalated the regional rivalries but also heightened ethnic hostility (Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations, 1996). Major General Habyarimana established the second Republic, to be governed by a single party, the Mouvement Révolutionnaire National Pour le Dévelop­ pement (MRND—National Revolutionary Movement for Democracy and Development) (Verpoorten, 2005). His government practised the “establishing ethnic and regional balance” policy, which turned out to be a reinstitutionalization of ethnic discrimination practices of the colonial times, whereby reservations were affirmed based on ‘ethnic proportions’ underpinned by the number of posts and resources apportioned to the three ethnic groups, allocating 10% of the quotas (jobs and resources) to the Tutsis (Kellow and Steeves, 1998; United Nations, 1996, 204). Verpoorten (2005) argues that under the regime of President Habyarimana the total number of Tutsis was intentionally underreported, aimed at keeping the school enrolment and job quotas low. Since 01 January 1990, the Rwandan army trained and established Interahamwe—armed civilian militias. Within a span of three years, thousands of Tutsis were obliterated across the country. Indeed, Habyarimana played criminal politics by governing an oppressive totalitarian regime flooded with corruption, propaganda and elimination of potential contenders and journalists (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020). In addition, like many sub-Saharan countries, Rwanda too was inundated with socio-economic and public health problems—famine, failure of crops, the debt crisis, HIV/AIDS, government’s austerity measures, multi-dimensional poverty and overpopulation (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; Reydams and Tissot, 2021). The civil

268  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. war (1990–1993) and the fall of the international coffee market in the 1980s heightened its problems further (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020). The ethnic tensions embedded in xenophobia further escalated with the launch of the insurgent outfit Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) in 1988 in Kampala, Uganda, comprising of about 7,000 Rwandan Tutsi elite refugees who had been living in Uganda since the 1960s and had gained experience of serving the National Resistance Army of President Yoweri Museveni that ousted the previous Government of Uganda in 1986. The primary aim of the armed RPF was the repatriation of Rwandan refugees, and accordingly, from Uganda in October 1990, RPF triggered a guerrilla war on Rwanda, slaughtering a few thousand Hutu peasants in northern Rwanda; in parallel, the Hutu militants killed about 2,000 Tutsi civilians. As mentioned above, the government used media, particularly the radio—Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM) and the print media—Kangura as tools for the proliferation of hate and rumours. And illiteracy among the majority of the population acted as a boon in unfurling abhor and falsehood, which further aggravated ethnic conflicts. Evidently, one in eight Rwandans suffered internal displacement by March 1993. This civil war formally ended in August 1993 with the Arusha Peace Agreement, or Arusha Negotiations (or Arusha Accords)—the Peace Agreement between the Republic of Rwanda Government under the opposition leadership of Foreign Minister, Boniface Ngulinzira [Republican Democratic Movement (MDR)], until January 1993 when President Habyarimana replaced him with Defense Minister James Gasana (MRND) and the RPF.6 Organization of African Unity and the heads of state in the African Great Lakes region acted as the mediators of this Peace Agreement. The dialogues—a set of five protocols (accords) of the Peace Agreement—began on 12 July 1992 and ended on 4 August 1993, with the signing of the accord between the Rwandan government and the RPF in Arusha, Tanzania (Guichaoua, 2015, 2020; Kamusella, 2021; Kellow and Steeves, 1998; Reydams and Tissot, 2021; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Verpoorten, 2005). Among other things, the Arusha Agreement constituted “the principle of power-sharing within the framework of a Broad Based Transitional Government”. It also reaffirmed “their unwavering determination to respect principles underlying the Rule of Law which include democracy, national unity, pluralism, the respect of fundamental freedoms and rights of the individual”; importantly, the “conflictual situation between the two parties can only be brought to an end through the formation of one and single National Army and a new National Gendarmerie from forces of the two warring parties”, and, most importantly, to recognize that the unity of the Rwandese people cannot be achieved until a definitive solution to the problem of Rwandese refugees is found and that the return of Rwandese refugees to their country is an inalienable right and constitutes a factor for peace and national unity and reconciliation.7 In a way, the Arusha Agreement confiscated the brutal powers of President Habyarimana’s regime, transforming it into a transitional government, which, however, appears to have been

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  269 nullified by President Habyarimana as “scraps of paper” in a speech on 15 November 1992 (Guichaoua, 2015). As Guichaoua (2015, 77) commented: Speeches like this coming from the authorities within the MRND toward the latter part of 1992 provoked quite a bit of polemics and were frequently held up to illustrate the presumed refusal of negotiations on the part of the President and his party, the MRND. But this is to make unduly short shrift of the profound communication gap between political leaders confident in their mass appeal and the negotiators in Arusha. The latter, speaking on behalf of the opposition and the rebel army, were busy putting together consensual arrangements intended to unseat an incumbent president supremely confident that he would come out of the electoral process stronger and legitimized anew. (Guichaoua, 2015, 77) With 2,548 UN military personnel, including 440 Belgian soldiers, 1777 formed troops and 331 military observers, and 60 civilian police (from 40 countries, including Russian Federation) under Jacques-Roger Booh-Booh, the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) was established on 5 October 19938 through Resolution 872 passed by the UN Security Council, aimed at assisting and supervising the Arusha Accord implementation. However, Accord implementation remained far from reality. Indeed, the clauses linked to ‘power sharing’ and the amalgamation of the armed forces of the two parties perhaps became a vehicle of trepidation in the already-­ turbulent landscape leading to genocide in the following year. More than 100 Days of Genocide against Tutsis Following the surface-to-air-missile attack and killing of the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi, Rwanda further kindled into turbulence and flames, mainly against the Tutsis. Within half an hour of the flight crash, the presidential guard members, Akazu, Impuzamugambi and Interahamwe, meticulously planned and organized systematic killings by operating roadblocks and identifying Tutsis. As discussed above, the RTLM, through its broadcast, started disseminating hate and racism against the moderate Hutus, Belgians, the United Nations and the Tutsi civilians using the ‘cockroach’ goad, thereby licensing the occurrence of genocide. Agathe Uwilingiyimana (Madame Agathe), the prime minister and then acting president of Rwanda (18 July 1993–7 April 1994) and her ten Belgian peacekeepers deployed for protection were killed by the government gendarmerie on 7 April in her residence. Following this incident on 7 April, Belgium withdrew its peacekeeping force. And by 21 April, other countries followed suit, so the UNAMIR’s military force plummeted to 270. Hence, at its 3,368th meeting on 21 April 1994, the UN Security Council adopted resolution 912,9 through which its original mandate to assist in the implementation of the Arusha Peace Agreement was

270  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. changed and was delegated to act as a mediator between the parties aimed at fixing a ceasefire agreement, helping in the restart of relief operations, and keeping track of the developments in Rwanda as well as the safety and security of the civilians including the UNAMIR refugees. In its 3,392nd meeting on 22 June 1994,10 UN Security Council adopted Resolution 929, sanctioned Operation Turquoise under the leadership of French military forces—contingents of 2,550 French troops and 500 African troops aimed at establishing a humanitarian zone (safe zone) in the southwest of Rwanda from 23 June to 21 August 1994. Operation Turquoise saved the lives of thousands of civilians in South West Rwanda; the troops, however, permitted the génocidaires—government officials, soldiers, and other militiamen—to escape Rwanda via the spaces under their control. These people fled mainly to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), erstwhile Zaire, the second-largest country in Africa after Algeria and the largest country in sub-Saharan Africa, occupying the 11th position in the world in terms of geographical space. Along with them, 1.4 million civilians, majority of them belonging to the Hutu community, escaped to DRC and other neighbouring countries—Tanzania and Burundi fearing that they would face annihilation by RPF. By 18 July 1994, the RPF gained control of the majority of the Rwandan space except for the humanitarian space under Operation Turquoise. On 19 July, RPF led by Paul Kagame established Government of National Unity at Kigali by declaring a unilateral ceasefire and the end of more than 100 days of genocide. With the removal of Operation Turquoise on 21 August 1994, the RPF captured the whole of Rwanda (BBC, 2019; United Nations, 1996, n.d.). Nevertheless, post the genocide, the atmosphere in Rwanda and the neighbouring countries of DRC, Uganda, Tanzania and Burundi remained volatile. The refugee camps at DRC were plagued by waterborne diseases, killing thousands while others fell sick. These camps were also used as sites primarily by the génocidaires to store arms and plan and launch attacks on Rwanda, which led to the war between Rwanda, Uganda and DRC in 1996. Indeed, Rwanda and Uganda invaded the eastern DRC to eradicate the génocidaires. Of course, the factors triggering the First Congo War (or Africa’s First World War) are far more complex and beyond the scope of this chapter, but the Rwandan genocide is definitely one of the attributes where Rwanda played one of the key roles as a foreign actor in the war. Alleviation from Genocide Trauma The critical question that arises is how Rwandans heal from the embers and residues of one of the most brutal Genocides in the world. The alleviation of the majority of its citizens from the status of ‘bare life’ to citizens bearing political diligence (Agamben, 1998) became a profound objective of the Rwandan government. In so doing, one of their central measures was to ignore emotions, stoicism and disannul the quality of ‘bare life’ but recognize

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  271 the perpetrators of genocide while balancing truth, justice, peace and security among the Rwandans. As one of the first healing steps, the country launched the National Unity and Reconciliation Commission in 1999 to rebuild the Rwandan identity. At the end of 2001, Rwanda’s government unveiled a new flag and national anthem as part of its drive to promote national unity and reconciliation after the 1994 genocide. The new national anthem refers to the Rwandans as one people, rather than Tutsi, Hutu and Twa. To strengthen this, legislation has been passed to combat discrimination and divisive ideological views of genocide. It is worth mentioning that post the genocide, approximately 125,000 suspects were arrested and put in crowded jails meant for only 15,000 inmates (Woody and Stemler, 2019). The Rwandan judicial response embarked upon seeking justice at three hierarchies—International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), the National Court System and the Gacaca Courts. Following the passing of the Organic Law in 1996, the Genocide suspects were divided into four categories depending on the scale of the crimes committed by the perpetrators and the position of the perpetrators. While ICTR and national courts shared Category 1 suspects, the suspects categorized between 2 to 4 were referred to Gacaca Courts (Woody and Stemler, 2019). Those suspects who planned, organized and supervised various acts constituting genocide were placed in Category 1. These suspects were mainly the high-profile leaders holding national, local or religious positions and engaged in heinous murders and various brutal forms of gender-based violence. Category 2 comprised those suspects who participated in the “acts of criminal participation, …intentional homicide or of serious assault against the person, causing death” (Woody and Stemler, 2019, 376). While those committing ‘serious assaults’ consisted of Category 3, offences against property were placed under Category 4 (Woody and Stemler, 2019). International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda

Resolution 955 was adopted on 8 November 1994 at its 3,453rd meeting of the UN Security Council11 mandating the creation of the ICTR at Arusha, Tanzania, which began its operation in 1995 and its Appeals Chamber located in The Hague, Netherlands. The primary objective of the ICTR was to identify génocidaires and constitute legal proceedings against them and other persons responsible for serious violations of international humanitarian law in the Rwandan territory between 1 January and 31 December 1994 (Scharf, 2008). On 8 March 1996, UNAMIR’s mandate came to closure following the Security Council’s adoption of Resolution 1050 (1996) at its 3640th meeting,12 but the force’s withdrawal continued till April. Through this Resolution, the tribute was paid to the UNAMIR personnels serving in Rwanda since 1993. Besides, the secretary-general was motivated by the Council to

272  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. maintain a UN office in Rwanda so that the government’s efforts can be supported to proselytize national reconciliation, build the judicial system, expedite the return of the refugees and reconstruct and strengthen the country’s infrastructure. Evidently, in 1998, Jean-Paul Akayesu, former Mayor of Taba, was the first to be convicted of rape and sexual violence as crimes of genocide. Chapter 1 has outlined the definition of rape and sexual violence as per ICTR Jean-Paul Akayesu judgement (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998, see also, Jean-Paul Akayesu Case, n.d. and Totten, 2017). Based on the definition, ICTR made the following decision: These rapes resulted in physical and psychological destruction of Tutsi women, their families and their communities. Sexual violence was an integral part of the process of destruction, specifically targeting Tutsi women and specifically contributing to their destruction and to the destruction of the Tutsi group as a whole. (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998, para, 731) Of course, Akayesu did not commit the crime himself, but his orders did, killing about 2,000 people of Taba commune (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998; Jean-Paul Akayesu Case, n.d.). Considering genocide as a form of gender-based violence by ICTR, Akayesu faced conviction on several counts: rape as a crime against humanity; other inhumane acts as a crime against humanity; and rape as a crime of genocide (Chamber I: The Prosecutor Versus Jean-Paul Akayesu, 1998; Jean-Paul Akayesu Case, n.d.). By 2000, approximately 100,000 genocide suspects were waiting for trial. Besides, as of December 2012, the trial phase of the ICTR mandate was obtained, indicting 93 high-profile individuals—government officials, politicians, people in business and religious, militia and media leaders—for violations of International Humanitarian Law and Genocide. For example: a Jean Kambanda, the prime minister of the caretaker government, was convicted of life in prison among these high-profile individuals (Simmons, 1998). b After World War II, Julius Streicher at Nuremberg was convicted for disseminating hatred via the media (Chapter 1). Similarly, in the Rwanda genocide, three media personnel—Ferdinand Nahimana, RTLM founder; Jean-Bosco Barayagwiza, top position board member of the Comité d’initiative, RTLM and founding member, Coalition for the Defence of Republic(CDR); and Hassan Ngeze, chief editor of Kangura newspaper— pled guilty to genocide on multiple counts in front of the UN Tribunal, including incitement of hate and violence, conspiracy, and crimes against humanity, extermination and persecution. This judgement was delivered by Judges Navanethem Pillay (presiding), Erik Mí¸se and Asoka de Zoysa

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  273 Gunawardana. While delivering the verdict, Navanethem Pillay commented: “[w]ithout a firearm, machete or any physical weapon, you caused the death of thousands of innocent civilians.” The verdict prosecuted Ferdinand Nahimana and Hassan Ngeze with life imprisonment, while Jean Bosco Barayagwiza was sentenced to 35 years of imprisonment (Three Media Leaders convicted for genocide, 2003). c Emmanuel Rukundo, an ordained Roman Catholic priest and a chaplain in the Rwandan military and head of the St Leon Minor Seminary in the Gitarama in 1994, was also indicted; his ICTR trial began on 15 November 2006, and he was convicted of one count of genocide and other multiple counts of murder, sexual assault of a young Tutsi woman plus crime against humanity (Trial Chamber II, 2009) sentencing him to imprisonment for 25 years, which was however reduced to 23 years in October 2010 (Adetunji, 2009; JusticeInfo.net, 2016). d Pauline Nyiramasuhuko, family and women’s development minister, was the first woman to face conviction by ICTR on 24 June 2011 for disseminating conspiracy to commit genocide, crimes against humanity and several counts of severe violations of the Geneva conventions. e On 21 December 2011, Matthieu Ngirumpatse, chairman of Rwanda’s then-ruling MRND, and his deputy, Édouard Karemera, were labelled ‘joint criminal enterprise’ and sentenced to life in prison for public incitement to committing genocide and widespread rapes and sexual assaults of Tutsi women and girls (UN News, 2011). f Following this, on 20 December 2012, Augustin Ngirabatware, minister of planning, was convicted for direct and public incitement, genocidal rape and crime against humanity. He was initially sentenced to 35 years imprisonment, which was reduced to 30 years following an appeal on 18 December 2014. Table 12.2 shows the breakdown of the cases. However, after over two decades of functioning, ICTR’s term ended on 31 December 2015. In 2010, the UN Security Council established the International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (IRMCT), which continues to operate offices in Arusha, Tanzania and The Hague, Netherlands, to conclude the remaining work of the ICTR and its counterpart, the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY). The case summaries and the full list of completed and pending cases of the indicted individuals can be accessed at—ICTR Case Summaries (ICTR Case Summaries, n.d.), and United Nations International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (n.d.). The National Court System

As discussed above, the National Court System, too, played a significant role in prosecuting the génocidaires, including those suspects committing brutal

274  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. Table 12.2  ICTR Indicted 93 Individuals Concluded Proceedings for 82 Accused 28 transferred to a state to serve the sentence 1 awaiting transfer to a state to serve their sentence* 23 have served their sentence 8 died while serving their sentence 1 died before being transferred to serve his sentence 1 died before transfer to the mechanism 3 died before the judgement 14 acquitted 2 had their indictments withdrawn 4 cases referred to national jurisdictions 3 referred to Rwanda 1 referred to France 6 Fugitives 5 fugitive cases under Rwandan jurisdiction 1 fugitive cases under mechanism jurisdiction * The International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (Mechanism)concluded the appeal proceedings for this case, but the review proceedings are currently ongoing for this case. Source: Key Figures of Cases. United Nations International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals Legacy website of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. https://unictr. irmct.org/en/cases/key-figures-cases; Key Figures of ICTR Cases, United Nations.International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. https://unictr.irmct.org/sites/unictr.org/files/publications/ictrkey-figures-en.pdf

atrocities such as rape. Under this system, 10,000 génocidaires faced prosecution by mid-2006, out of which 22 were awarded capital punishment in 1998; however, in 2007, the death penalty was abrogated by the Rwandan government, thereby unblocking the justice pipeline for transfer of ICTR genocide cases to these national courts (The Justice and Reconciliation Process in Rwanda, 2014). The Gacaca Court System

Pronounced as GA-CHA-CHA, “Gacaca is a Kinyarwandan word meaning ‘lawn’ or ‘grass’” (Woody and Stemler, 2019, 379), where the members of the community gather in an open space—lawn or grassy square of the town or village to resolve conflict among its citizens. This informal form of conflict resolution model had remained prevalent in Rwanda since the early 20th century, where the hearings of these courts were more or less limited to contention over property and livestock (Woody and Stemler, 2019). This model is perhaps similar to the Panchayati Raj (Council of five officials) institutions, a local self-government system prevalent in rural India’s villages.13 However, this Gacaca model is not unique to Rwanda alone; this

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  275 type of justice model based on customary laws is found in several African countries (Deng, 2018). The Rwandan government revived these 12,000 traditional community courts in 2005 by modifying Categories 2 and 3 as a way to build reconciliation and seek justice (at the grass-roots level) for the thousands of the génocidaires awaiting trial at the National Court System (Cunneen, 2003; Luft and Thomson, 2021; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; The Justice and Reconciliation Process in Rwanda, 2014; Woody and Stemler, 2019). The Gacaca courts heard those offences who were accused of assault, murder crimes and property. The concept of Gacaca is unique in the sense that it is a local and community-based restorative justice system based on customary law, albeit the reparation and trauma healing remains far more complex. Nevertheless, the Gacaca model bestowed a sense of “ownership” over their own unique experience of conflict (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). This is because the state had no power of direct interference and orchestration. Indeed, the Gacaca, a victim empowerment justice model, operated as a communities’ court at the grass-roots level, regulating traditional and community-based processes of accomplishing justice and maintaining peace and tranquility. For this, the system elects judges (excluding those labelled as elites—clergy, elected officials and magistrates) to listen to the suspects awaiting trial; notably, the majority of these courts were operated by women judges, whose performances were found to be competent when compared to their male counterparts. In addition, the Gacaca system has the power to reduce the sentences if the accused/guilty was penitent and paid for reconciliation with the community (Luft and Thomson, 2021; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). Critics, however, have pointed out the failure of Gacaca on several fronts, which are outlined below: basic violations of the right to a fair trial and limitations on accused persons’ ability to effectively defend themselves; flawed decision-­making (often caused by judges’ ties to the parties in a case or pre-conceived views of what happened during the genocide) leading to allegations of miscarriages of justice; cases based on what appeared to be trumped-up charges, linked, in some cases, to the government’s wish to silence critics (journalists, human rights activists, and public officials) or to disputes between neighbors and even relatives; judges’ or officials’ intimidation of defense witnesses; corruption of judges to obtain the desired verdict; and other serious procedural irregularities. (Justice Compromised, 2011) Despite its flaws and failures, since 2005, the Gacaca system brought 1.2 million cases to justice—65% were found guilty; however, these courts were drawn to a close on 4 May 2012.

276  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. Girinka

Needless to mention again, post-genocide Rwanda was mired in extreme forms of multidimensional poverty. As Pulla and Kalinganire (2021, 26) argue: During the Rwandan genocide in 1994, 90 per cent of the country’s cattle were slaughtered. Livelihoods were decimated, and the cow was recast as a symbol of inequality and deprivation, rather than of wealth and social status. After the genocide, cows simply reminded many Rwandans of the tragedy that had befallen their country. As poverty worsened, the gap between those who had cows and those who did not grow wider. (Pulla and Kalinganire (2021, 26) Launched in 2006 by Paul Kagame, the current president of Rwanda, Girinka (One Cow per Poor Family) is a pro-poor social protection programme to alleviate poverty and vulnerability amongst the poorest households: reduce malnutrition among children and gravid mothers; use manure from cows for increasing crop production; increase family income through the sale of surplus milk; and, most importantly, build a strong sense of harmony among the Rwandans (The One Cow Per Poor Family Program (Girinka) in Rwanda, n.d.). ‘Girinka’ is a Kinyarwandan word meaning “may you have a cow”. In fact, Girinka is a traditional custom in Rwanda to donate cows, symbolizing respect or gratitude, whereby the custom demands passing on the first heifer to the next. The success of this programme recuperated again, bestowing the  cow as a ‘traditional symbol of prosperity’ (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021, 26). Arguably, rooted in the cultural practices of Rwanda, Girinka is a part of Rwanda’s Homegrown Solutions, embracing the Millennium Development Goals under Rwanda’s Economic Development and Poverty Reduction Strategy (EDPRS). Indeed, EDPRS is a seven-year programme under the Rwanda vision 2020 of the Rwandan government (Equity Case Study: Rwanda—One Cow per Poor Family, 2012). Under EDPRS, Girinka was launched at the local level, and to reach the beneficiary the vehicle operating the Girinka programme travels via several layers—it is the job of the Rwandan Agricultural Board (RAB) to purchase cows using the funds allocated to them from different funding agencies: the Rwandan government, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and wealthy citizens. Only those cows are purchased that duly fulfil the rigorous health guidelines inter alia, that is, the cow is disease-free and healthy and, significantly, pregnant (Equity Case Study: Rwanda—One Cow per Poor Family, 2012; Hahirwa and Karinganire, 2017; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). Each ubudehe or village chooses the beneficiaries of the purchased cows; during the community meetings, the village leader compiles a list of community members and decides the right beneficiary of receiving the cow (Hahirwa

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  277 and Karinganire, 2017; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). There is evidence to suggest that although the Girinka programme suffered from the mastitis issue (Petherick, 2016), as evident from available statistics, as of 2013, 149,225 families became beneficiaries of Girinka gaining promising benefits in specific parameters of Millennium Development Goals (the One Cow Per Poor Family programme (Girinka) in Rwanda, N.D.). In the mid-1990s, the life expectancy at birth was 29, which improved to 69 in 2019; similarly, the maternal mortality ratio in 2019 stood at 290, which has plummeted from 1,270 per 100,000 live births in the 1990s (The World Bank in Rwanda, 2021; see also, Abbott et al., 2017). This observation, however, calls for in-depth empirical research. Everyday living with trauma in post-genocide Rwanda is a challenging task. The practices of geohumanities, including that of social work, call for the reconstruction of resilience, endeavouring both individual and community-centred practices. As Pulla (2013, 5) argues: that recovery from any calamity does not involve the restoration of the status quo but instead requires the development of pathways leading forward to possible and preferred futures. In response to both manmade, and natural disasters, individuals and collectives face the challenge of ‘[w]hat now and what next?’ amidst the damage, loss or the central preoccupation of the social work profession that played and continue to play an invaluable role throughout the process and that it is how the remaining critical challenges to effective social cohesion will be overcome. (Pulla, 2013, 5) Evidently, many accomplishments have been observed in Rwanda in the last three decades (Abbott et al., 2017), but it is not easy to understand how it became possible to heal and unite the divided citizens; reconciling them within a short span of time is an arduous task, as observed in different postconflict countries of the world. Imihigo

In 2006, in the aftermath of the genocide, and to rebuild Rwanda, the RPFled government launched a decentralized service delivery development programme via the deployment of the Imihigo. The word Imihigo is also a Kinyarwanda term, meaning a homegrown innovation model embedded in good internal governance and people-centred approaches where the leaders pledge in public to accomplish specific goals, usually to achieve a self-­defined policy but face public humiliation if they would fail to execute the pledge (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021; Scher and MacAulay, 2018). As a result, the government first delegated the decentralization method of service delivery to the district mayors, who would remain solely accountable for implementing

278  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. development programmes (Scher and MacAulay, 2018). Having roots in pre-colonial Rwandan socio-cultural practice, Imihigo is a tool of public sector performance and a road to deliver outputs linked to the country’s socio-economic development. Funded from the national budget based on central government priorities, Imihigo service delivery tool is an amalgamation of modern work practice with Rwandan tradition, rendering ample opportunities to its citizens and local governments to participate in Imihigo targets and execute its own policies and solutions (Case Study from The Global Report, n.d.). Imihigo was bolstered across the government agencies and ministries following its success at the district level. Although critics argue that the citizens and the local governments had limited access to participate in the Imihigo targets, the Imihigo 2019/2020: Evaluation Executive Report unravels that the average Imihigo target implementation performance of the 30 districts stands at 68.44%, which is breathtaking (Imihigo 2019/2020, 2020). Nyaruguru occupies the first position with 84.09%, followed by Huye with 82.88% in the second place and Rwamagana with 82.42% in the third place. The three districts occupying the bottom ladder of performance are Rusizi with 50.01%, Karongi with 51.25% and Nyabihu with 52.95% (Imihigo 2019/2020, 2020). Witnessing the impressive rebuilding of Rwanda, demonstrating a fast-growing economy of sub-Saharan Africa (Abbott et al., 2017), on 07 April 2019, on his official Twitter account, President Kagame commented: “there is no way to fully comprehend the loneliness and anger of survivors” (President Kagame, 2019; see also, Paul Kagame, 2019). The president went on to state: we have asked them to make the sacrifices necessary to give our nation new life. Emotions had to be put in a box. Someone once asked me why we keep burdening survivors with the responsibility for our healing. It was a painful question, but I realized the answer was obvious. Survivors are the only ones with something left to give: their forgiveness. (President Kagame, 2019) These homegrown initiatives have successfully declined the country’s overall poverty rates, which stood at 55% in 2017, signalling a marked declination of the Gini Index—the inequality measure from 0.52 in 2006 to 0.43 in 2017 (The World Bank in Rwanda, 2021). Rwanda has demonstrated improvement in its GDP (purchasing power parity) and GDP per capita, which were estimated at $ 30.141 billion and $2,200, respectively, in 2021; these figures are, however, contested (CIA, 2022). This low-income country indeed aims to become a middle-income country by 2035 and a high-income nation by 2050 (The World Bank in Rwanda, 2021), which obviously appears highly ambitious. It is arguable that it is the blend of traditional with modern values in the form of homegrown initiatives as recovery alternatives that proved fruitful in

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  279 helping its citizens recover from the scourge of intense suffering and endure the process of rebuilding. This is reflected in an interview with President Kagame “ Rwanda can’t be Rwanda without its own traditions. They are the foundation we build upon” (Soudan, 2015, 80). This is further reinforced by a series of tweets commemorating the 25th International Day of Reflection on the Rwandan Genocide by President Kagame (Paul Kagame, 2019): I [also] thank my fellow Rwandans, who joined hands to recreate this country. In 1994, there was no hope, only darkness. Today, light radiates from this place…. How did it happen? Rwanda became a family, once again. The arms of our people, intertwined, constitute the pillars of our nation. We hold each other up. Our bodies and minds bear amputations and scars, but none of us is alone. Together, we have woven the tattered threads of our unity into a new tapestry… Our people have carried an immense weight with little or no complaint. This has made us better and more united than ever before… At a memorial event some years ago, a young girl brought us to tears with a poem. She said, “There is a saying that God spends the day elsewhere, but returns to sleep in Rwanda.”…Then she asked: “Where was God on those dark nights of genocide?”, she asked. Looking at Rwanda today, it is clear that God has come back home to stay…To survivors, I can only say thank you. Your resilience and bravery represent the triumph of the Rwandan character in its purest form. (President Kagame, 2019) Nevertheless, like many other nations (both rich and poor), the Rwandans too have been walloped by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Indeed, COVID-19 has pushed approximately 119 and 124 million people worldwide to the brink of extreme poverty in 2020. Although governments worldwide have implemented 1,600 short-term social protection measures, 4 billion people are yet to be covered by social protection measures (Goal 1. End Poverty in all its forms everywhere, n.d.). It has been estimated that in 2021 the headcount poverty rate in Rwanda surged by 5.1 percentage points, taking the number of people living in poverty to more than 550,000 (CIA, 2022; The World Bank in Rwanda, 2021). Despite these worst weathers, Rwandans remain unvanquished. They have proved to be brave and resilient, failing utterly to succumb to complacency, seeding various other initiatives that reshape the lives of the survivors, apart from the aforementioned government-initiated homegrown solutions in rebuilding Rwanda. Some of the organizations helping to heal lives by rehabilitating human warmth and repairing individual trauma are: CNLG: National Commission for the Fight against Genocide; FARG: Genocide Survivors Support and Assistance Fund; IBUKA (Remember): National Umbrella Organisation for Survivors of Genocide against the Tutsi; AVEGA Agahozo: Association of Genocide Widows and FAWE-RWANDA: the

280  Rituparna Bhattacharyya et al. Rwanda Forum for African Women Educationalists; and AEGR: Genocide Survivors Students Association (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). ‘I am Rwandan’ programme is another excellent enterprise to reinfuse patriotism among its citizens. To sustain the spirit of rebuilding Rwanda and invoke a difference, the government and its leadership have pledged all the driving forces to take the collective vow of ‘Never Again’ while discerning the unique Rwandan identity of Ndi Umunyarwanda (I am Rwandan) (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). The majority of the initiatives discussed above imply fundamental and ethical values—Gufashanya (Solidarity/self-help), Ubumwe (Unity), Ubunyarwanda (Rwandanness), Igihango (Covenant) and others. These values helped the country to emerge from the profound toll of uncanny melancholy deathscape and heighten social interrelatedness, which further facilitated a road to reconciliation. Hence, the pledge ‘Together, we can’ makes sense. Each citizen is reminded over and over again to believe in themselves and their strength because Ak’imuhana kaza imvura ihise (the external aid comes after the rain shower) (Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021, 28). Mention may also be made of other programmes of collective healing— remembrance and mourning (Kwibuka); decent memorial sites for dignified exhumation and inhumation of victims; amplified by survivours’ testimonies, organization of talks at different institutions, including in the churches, schools, universities, clubs etc.; recognition of those people demonstrating outstanding selfless humanitarian services via ‘Unity Reward’ in the ‘Protectors of Friendship Pact’ (Abarinzi b’Igihango) model. And importantly, genocide studies should be incorporated into education so that the younger generation learns how Rwanda emerged from the days of darkness, despair and despondency to a state of illuminating sunlight (Paul Kagame, 2019; Pulla and Kalinganire, 2021). Conclusion The chapter has briefly recalled the historical reality demonstrating how xenophobia against the Tutsis evolved and transformed into genocide. The chapter also discussed how post-genocide reconciliation was fostered across the communities and how the moral narratives were shaped. Indeed, the government’s various initiatives have tried to engineer peace and love and to inculcate positive values in its citizens. Notes 1 The Ten Stages Of Genocide. Holocaust Memorial Day Trust. https://www.hmd. org.uk/learn-about-the-holocaust-and-genocides/what-is-genocide/the-ten-stagesof-genocide/ 2 Rwanda. UNESCO Institute for Statistics. http://uis.unesco.org/en/country/rw 3 Rwanda Literacy Rate 1978–2021. Macrotrends. https://www.macrotrends.net/ countries/RWA/rwanda/literacy-rate

1994 Rwanda Holocaust  281 4 However, there is an argument that Rwanda and Germany became colony of the German Empire following a conference in 1890 in Brussels. 5 The Treaty of Versailles, the peace treaties of World War I, signed on 28 June 1919, located at the Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles, Paris, declared the end of the state of war between the Central Powers of Germany (Austria-Hungary, the Ottoman Empire, Bulgaria and their colonies) and Allies of World War I or Entente Powers France, Britain, Russia, Italy, Japan, and the United States. Following this, the peace treaty was negotiated at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 and 1920, which was registered on 21 October 1919 by the Secretariat of the League of Nations, founded on 10 January 1920, headquartered in Geneva. 6 Peace Agreement between the Government of the Republic of Rwanda and the Rwandese Patriotic Front. http://www.incore.ulst.ac.uk/services/cds/agreements/ pdf/rwan1.pdf 7 Please refer to endnote 4 8 Rwanda-UNAMIR: Facts and Figures. https://peacekeeping.un.org/sites/default/ files/past/unamirF.htm 9 Resolution 912 (1994). UN Security Council. https://www.un.org/en/ga/search/ view_doc.asp?symbol=S/RES/912%281994%29 10 Resolution 929 (1994). UN Security Council. https://www.un.org/en/ga/search/ view_doc.asp?symbol=S/RES/929%281994%29 11 Resolution 955 (1994). Security Council, United Nations https://www.un.org/en/ ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=S/RES/955%281994%29 12 Resolution 1050 (1996). Security Council, United Nations. https://www.un.org/ en/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=S/RES/1050%281996%29 13 The Constitution (Seventy-third Amendment) Act, 1992.India.gov.in. https:// www.india.gov.in/my-government/constitution-india/amendments/constitutionindia-seventy-third-amendment-act-1992

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Index

Pages in italics refer to figures and pages in bold refer to tables. 1984 as Genocide 136 1984 Violence 124, 125, 127, 131, 132, 135 Aam Admi Party (AAP) 58–60, 138 Ahuja Committee 138 Akayesu, Jean-Paul 10, 13, 14, 261, 272 anti-Sikh violence 21, 70, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 133, 136 Apartheid 3, 12, 247, 257 Armed Forces (Jammu and Kashmir) Special Powers Act 1990 (AFSPA) 20, 21, 108, 112 Article 35A 55, 106 Article 370 24, 55, 103, 106, 107, 113, 115, 116, 119 Arusha Peace Agreement: Arusha Negotiations or Arusha Accords 268, 269 Asam Sahitya Sabha 149, 156, 157, 169, 172 Assam Accord 145, 161–163, 166, 170, 174, 195 Assam Agitation 21, 145, 150, 158, 159, 161, 162 Assam Bandhu 148 Assam Bilasini 148 Assam News 148 Auniati Satra 148 Axomiā Bhāxā Unnati Xādhini Xabhā 149, 169 Babri Mosque 58, 138 Bangla 3, 21, 199, 204, 221, 222 Bangla Creole 22, 150, 197, 220, 221 Bare life 16, 18, 19, 262, 270 Barua, Gunabhiram 148, 149

Barua, Hem Chandra 148 Barua, Padmanath Gohain 149 Bengali in Assam 146 Bengali Muslims 3, 150, 152, 156, 159, 160, 164, 199, 223 Bentinck, William 146 Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) 38, 54–62, 65, 67, 68, 70, 96, 97, 99, 125, 134, 138, 145, 181 Birkett, Sir William Norman 5 Bronson, Miles 148 Brown, Nathan 148 Cabinet Mission 153, 173 Carey, William 147 Central Government Special Investigation Team 138 Chaliha, Bimala Prasad 156 Churchill, Winston 1, 2, 7, 172, 197 Citizenship Act 1955 58, 144, 154, 166 Citizenship Amendment Bill 15, 38, 144, 172 COVID-19 33, 43, 106, 279 Creole Nationalism 22, 150, 197, 198, 218, 221 Delhi High Court 61, 64, 94 Delhi Police 18, 61–67, 70 Delhi riots of 2020 38 Dhillon Committee 138 Digital Nationalism 34, 35, 40 Dominion of Pakistan 22 East Pakistan 3, 8, 21, 22, 150, 153, 154–157, 168, 181–183, 186–192, 194, 195, 197–200, 217, 219–222 Economic Genocide 22, 192, 193

Index  287 Ethnic Cleansing 2, 4, 6, 12, 17, 76, 87, 93, 95, 97, 108, 126, 138, 200, 218–221, 228, 236, 245, 246 Ethnic Violence 2, 22, 55, 227, 267

Internet Hindus 40 Islamisation / Islamicisation of Kashmir 96, 97 Islamophobic 42, 57, 59, 138

Facebook 18, 33–35, 40, 43, 45, 144, 249 Final Eelam War 227, 228, 236, 238 Foucault, Michel 19

Jain-Aggarwal Committee 138 Jain-Banerjee Committee 138 Jinnah, Muhammad Ali 81, 82, 105, 120, 153, 198, 199 Jonaki 149

Gender-based violence (GBV) 12, 261, 271, 272 Gendered violence 12, 131 Genocidal Rape 202, 218, 273 Genocide Convention 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 19, 76, 134, 197 Genocide in Bangladesh 198 Genocide of Kashmiri Pandits 6, 20, 76, 87, 93, 95, 97, 98 Girinka 276, 277 Goswami, Sarat Chandra 149 Government of Pakistan 198, 199, 200 Grow More Food 151, 152 Hate Campaign 77, 82, 85, 86 Hebdo, Charlie 33, 34, 37, 45, 46 Highly Protracted Civil War 227, 232 Hinduphobia 41, 42, 48 Hindutva: Hindu Nationalism 34, 55, 56, 58, 61, 65, 66, 69, 118, 125, 138 Hitler, Adolf 1, 5, 7 Holocaust 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 12, 17, 23, 102, 108, 109, 136, 197, 228, 261, 280 Homo Sacer 19 Hutu 4, 16, 246, 261–264, 264, 265, 267, 268, 270, 271 Imihigo 277, 278 Immigrants (Expulsion from Assam) Act 1950 181 Indian National Congress 156, 168 Indian peacekeeping force: IPKF 235 The International Criminal Court, ICC 10, 11, 12 International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda: ICTR 9, 10, 13, 14, 23, 262, 271–273, 274 International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, ICTY 9, 10, 11, 12, 273 International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals, IRMCT 273, 274

Kagame, Paul 261, 270, 276, 278, 279, 280 Kapur-Mittal Committee 138 Khalistan 126, 132, 135, 137 Language Movement 21, 145, 150, 155 Lebensraum 1 Lemkin, Raphaël 4, 5, 7, 8, 197, 227 Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) 22, 227, 228, 232–240 Malom massacre 20 Marwah Commission 138 Mass killing 6, 11, 12, 17, 197, 200, 202, 221, 246 Mathur Committee 138 Media and Xenophobia 248 Migrant Labour 23, 245, 247 Millennium Development Goals 276, 277 Mills, Andrew John Moffat 148, 149 Misra Commission 138, 140 Modi, Narendra Damodar 9, 19, 56–59, 66, 138, 169, 174 Mountbatten, Lord Louis 19 Mullan, CS 151, 152 Muslim women 54, 56, 58, 66 Nanavati Commission 138 Narula Committee 138 National Register of Citizens (NRC) 21, 22, 38, 47, 58, 59, 64, 66, 150, 162, 165, 168, 170, 171, 194, 195 Nazi Germany 1, 2, 7, 16, 108, 135 NCERT textbook 110, 112, 113 Nellie Massacre 8, 21, 145, 150, 159, 161 Never Give In 1, 2, 172 Nuremberg International Military Tribunal 10 Nuremberg trials 5 Orunodoi 148

288 Index Persecution 79 Phukan, Haliram Dhekial 147 Pogrom 21, 66, 70, 87, 124, 126, 127, 132, 133, 136, 137, 159, 232 Poti-Rosha Committee 138 Quran 53, 80 Radcliffe, Cyrill 190 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) 67, 97, 159 Robinson, William 148 Shiv Sena 96 Sikh diaspora 124 Silent Genocide 8, 21, 144, 146, 148, 151, 153, 155, 157, 159, 161, 163, 165, 166, 167, 169, 171, 173, 175, 177, 179 Singh 19 Sirodin Axomiya 144, 169 Stanton, Gregory H 13–15, 20, 24, 25, 26, 77, 105, 166, 245, 246, 262 Streicher, Julius 11 Supreme Court Special Investigation Team 138 Sylhet Referendum 177, 182, 184, 190, 196 Sylheti Bengali 155 Taba commune 10, 13, 272 Thackery, Balasaheb 96 The Citizenship (Amendment) Bill 2019 (CAA/anti-CAA) 15, 16, 18, 21, 22,

38, 54, 55, 56, 58, 59, 61, 63–70, 144, 145, 150, 155, 162, 168–171, 181 The Gacaca Court System 274 The Hague Convention of 1907 14 The Kashmir Files 20, 97 The National Court System 23, 262, 271, 273, 275 The Pakistan Army 112, 212, 223 Ten Stages of Genocide 14, 17, 19, 20, 23, 24, 174, 280 Tutsi 3–5, 13, 16, 17, 23, 126, 228, 245, 246, 261–264, 264, 265, 267–269, 271–273, 279, 280 Twa 261, 263, 265, 271 Two-nation theory 81, 110, 120, 153, 173, 198, 199 Undocumented Migration 23, 245, 247 United Liberation Front of Asom: ULFA 165 United Nations 4, 5, 8, 23, 24, 117, 166, 170, 197, 227, 244, 245, 247, 249, 252, 261, 263, 264, 264, 265, 267, 269, 270, 273, 274, 281 West Pakistan 3, 115, 162, 199, 220, 222 Whatsapp 18, 33, 34, 38, 66 World War I 2, 4, 7, 126, 265, 281 World War II 2, 5, 7, 8, 10, 14, 197, 222, 265, 272 Xeno-racism 3